A British girl staying in America learns some new customs. By a new writer to us.

By Robert Gunn

“I can’t believe that I moved two thousand miles to get away from my parents, just to deal with the same crap here. These people treat me like a child!” Megan lay on her bed, ranting on her cell phone with her best friend, Beatrice, in London. She’d just moved to New York for a study abroad program at Columbia, which she loved, but her host family was driving her crazy.

“Yes, you’re right there. At least I’m not still getting my bum smacked. They wouldn’t dare! But they gave me a curfew, for Christ’s sake! Well I’m going to a club tonight and I’ll come back when I bloody well please. As a matter of fact, it’s time to get ready to go, so I’d better ring off. And behave yourself, Bea. You may be at University, but you’re not so far from home that your dad can’t pay a visit with his cane. Cheers!”

Meg showered, did her hair and makeup, shimmied into a short, tight black dress and crossed the room to check herself out in a full length mirror. She was five foot two, 110 pounds, had small, firm breasts, a round little behind, and straight, brown hair that fell over her shoulder blades. It was a simple style, but she took care to keep it soft and silky and was rather proud of it. She chuckled.

“Look out, yanks,” she said, “the British are coming!” Then she peeked out of the door to her room to see if the coast was clear.

‘It sounds like Tom and Diane are downstairs watching telly,’ she thought to herself.

Meg slipped into the hall and tiptoed down the stairs with her high heels in her hands. At the front door she took her host parents’ keys from a hook, trotted out to their car, and drove away grinning like a Cheshire cat with a bowl of cream.

A few blocks down the road she turned on her iPod and let her music blast through the car speakers.

‘Finally, as loud as I want!’ she thought.

But she turned it down when she reached a deserted street. Meg pulled over, rolled down the windows, fished a joint out of her purse, lit it and took a deep hit. Then she drove on.

‘Just one to make things a bit more interesting,’ she thought.

When she’d smoked about half her joint, Meg turned right and pulled into the left lane of a busy street, forgetting that Americans, being rather backwards, drive on the right. Headlights bore down on her, a horn blared, and she swerved and hit a street lamp pole. She wasn’t hurt, but flashing blue lights appeared before she even had time to swear.

*          *          *

It was just after 11 o’clock when the Johnson’s doorbell rang. Tom sat bolt upright in bed and looked at the clock.

“What the hell?” he said. It rang again.

“Tom, what’s going on?” Diane asked.

“Damned if I know.” Then he noticed that blue lights were flashing through the curtain and peeked out the window.

“Oh, Lord,” he said. “Honey, come here and check this out.” A police car was parked at the kerb, and an officer was on their doorstep clutching Megan by the elbow.

Tom clenched his teeth, threw on a robe and went downstairs with Diane right behind him. He yanked open the front door and confronted Meagan, who was standing with her head bowed, and a young policeman who looked vaguely familiar. The policeman smiled at him.

“Evening, Mr Johnson. Does this belong to you?” Tom stared at him for a moment, and remembered a teen-aged kid kissing his older daughter, Margot, on that same doorstep.

“Jimmy! Is that you? It’s good to see you again!” He glared at Megan. “Although I wish it was under better circumstances. What did she do this time?”

“Driving under the influence, possession of a couple of grams of marijuana, and she clipped a light pole. I’m afraid that your car has a seriously crumpled fender, Mr J. She was pretty mouthy too, until we put the cuffs on her. That shut her up!

“When we put her in the patrol car she asked us to call the British Consulate, and we told her she could call whoever she wanted after we booked her. She begged us not to arrest her, and reluctantly asked us to call you.

After a while I figured out that you were the Tom Johnson she was talking about, and when she explained why she was staying with you I made her a deal. I told her that I’d bring her here instead of arresting her, but only if she’d accept whatever punishment you thought was appropriate.” He grinned.

“I figured that if you do to her what you used to do to Margot she’ll stay sober and drive carefully for a long time, if for no other reason than that she can’t sit down behind the wheel.” Megan jerked her head up and stared at him.

‘Oh no,’ she thought, ‘he can’t mean what I think he means!’

Don’t worry, Jimmy,” Tom said, “we’ll make sure that she doesn’t do this again. Megan!” She met his eyes. “Living room. Now. We’re going to have a nice, long chat.”

Megan swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” she said, and walked briskly into the house with a glowering Diane right behind her.

‘Did I just call him sir?’ Megan thought. ‘I don’t say that to anyone, except Dad when he’s about to thrash me. Why did I agree to let them discipline me however they see fit? I can’t believe that this is happening!’

“Goodnight, Jimmy,” Tom said, “maybe you can stop by for a beer sometime.”

“I’d like that, Mr J. Good luck with her. If anyone can straighten her out, you can.”

Jimmy walked back to his police car and Tom went into the house.

*          *          *

Tom walked down the hall and into the living room, where Megan and Diane sat silently. His wife was glaring at the nineteen year-old college freshman, who was studying her shoes to avoid facing the fire in her host mother’s eyes. Diane had fetched a hairbrush, and as soon as she saw it Megan knew that she’d be burning soon enough.

Tom sat down on the couch next to his wife, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

‘We’ve got to calm down or this could get out of hand,’ he thought, ‘and I’m going to have to rein Diane in somehow. She looks madder than a bull with a burr under its tail! But first things first.’

“Megan, look at me.” She met his eyes. “Things aren’t working out and we both know it. You’ve been nothing but rude and disrespectful to us since you got here and we’re not going to put up with it anymore. We were ready to send you home, but then I had a long conversation with your father.” Megan sucked in her breath.

‘Oh no,’ she thought, ‘not daddy!’

“We have his full support to discipline you, and by now I’m sure you know what that means. But I’m going to give you a choice. You can be polite, obey our rules, and accept the consequences if you don’t, or you can go home on the next flight. By the way, your father said to tell you that his cane is supple and ready to use.

“Well, young lady, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Megan sighed. ‘What can I say?’ she thought. ‘They’ve got me bang to rights.’

“You’re right,” Megan said. “I’ve been horrible to you, and I apologise. I can’t believe that I stole and smashed your car! It was inexcusable, and I promise to pay for the repairs.”

“Well, that’s a step in the right direction,” Tom said. “Come here, Megan.” She walked across the room and stood in front of them.

“Now to confirm, do you agree to accept corporal punishment from us?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Okay, here are our rules,” Tom said. “You can’t be disrespectful, disobedient, dishonest, or unsafe. We’ll add more specific rules if necessary, and we have the right to punish you for breaking them with spankings, paddlings, grounding, and corner time. We will always listen to what you have to say, but the final decisions about proper behaviour and discipline will be ours.

In return, you’ll be allowed to stay in our home and continue your ‘study abroad’ program. Any of us can change our minds about this agreement at any time, in which case you’ll be sent home immediately. Does that sound fair?”

“It does,” she said.

Tom nodded. “Okay, since you’ve already broken every rule that you just agreed to, you’re going to to get a lickin’ right now! Your father insisted that your first spanking be on your bare bottom, so Diane’s going to do it, but I won’t hesitate to warm the seat of your panties in the future.” He looked at his wife.

“Diane, I think that a hand spanking with ten hairbrush swats at the end should do the trick.”

Megan’s jaw dropped.

“But I was going to…” Diane started to say.

Tom held up his hand to stop her.

“I know, you wanted to blister her bottom with the hairbrush, but you were looking forward to it a little too much. Give her the hand spanking of her life and drive the lesson home with the brush. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with her for a long time after that.”

Diane glared at him. “You want me to give her a hand spanking?” She looked at Megan like a wolf locking eyes with a fawn. “I’ll show her a hand spanking!”

Diane got up, reached under Megan’s hair, and took her by the ear. Then she half led, half pulled her into the den, closing the door behind her.

*          *          *

Diane sat down on the couch and tipped the red-faced teenager over her left knee.

“Did you think you’d get off easy because most of your spanking will be with my hand?” She tugged Megan’s tight skirt up over her waist and pulled her see-through black panties down to her knees. “I don’t need a hairbrush to blister your bottom!”

Diane hooked her right leg over the backs of Megan’s knees, wrapped her left arm around her waist, and unleashed a barrage of four smacks a second on her pert, white bottom with the force of two months of pent up frustration behind them.

The shock of the first spank made Megan jump and squeal.  Her mother had hand-spanked her bare behind hard and often, but it had been nothing like this. The pain seared her rear end and there was no time to recover between swats. Diane set her bottom on fire and stoked the flames relentlessly.

“Aaaahh! I’m sorry ma’am, I’ll never do it again!” After about twenty seconds Diane paused.

“You waltz into our home like a spoiled brat and give us nothing but lip and rudeness when we were trying to help you! Columbia is one of the top schools in the country and all you do is party. Do you want to flunk out?” She slapped her butt three times.

“We gave you a curfew because you have no self discipline. You need parental guidance and we’re going to give it to you, and if you can’t sit down for the rest of the term you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.” Then she picked up where she’d left off, whaling every inch of Megan’s bottom as hard and as fast as she could.

Megan squealed and pleaded, squirmed and struggled, but Diane’s grip was too strong for the petite teenager to break free. After another hundred and fifty swats Megan’s face was wet with tears and Diane stopped, shook out her hand, and grabbed the hairbrush.

“And now for the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” she said, patting the scorched, crimson bottom with the four inch wide, five inch long cherry wood brush. “You’re going to count every swat and say, ‘Thank you ma’am, I’m sorry for being a naughty girl’.” Then she swatted the middle of Megan’s right cheek hard, with a wrist snap.

“Yaaaa!” Megan shrieked, and paused for a couple of seconds, breathing hard. “One, thank you, ma’am, I’m sorry for being a naughty girl.” Crack! “Two, thank you, ma’am, I’m sorry for being a naughty girl.” Crack! “Three, thank you, ma’am, I’m sorry for being a naughty girl!”

Megan was sobbing after three swats and bawling so hard that she couldn’t speak after five. Diane continued spanking her at a rhythm of one swat every two seconds. The first five covered her upper bottom and the rest focused on her sit spots. She stopped at ten, set the hairbrush down on the couch, and gently patted the teen’s burning backside.

“You didn’t count the last ones, but I’ll excuse it because you were crying so hard.” She unwrapped her leg from Megan’s knees and let her go. “Stand up,” she said.

Megan struggled to her feet and grabbled her bottom.

“Hands off your rear end!”

Megan jumped and moved her hands to her sides. Diane glared at her for a second, sighed, stood up, and hugged her. Then she held her at arms length. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes ma’am,” she sobbed, “I’ll never do it again.”

Diane nodded. “Take off your panties, cross your arms behind your back to hold your skirt up, and go stand in the corner by the TV. I want you to put your toes against the walls and push your nose into the corner as far as it will go.”

Megan did as she was told, crying her way across the room.

“Don’t you dare move until we give you permission. If you disobey me you’ll get another spanking.” Then she walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

*          *          *

“Nobody can hand spank like you can, darlin’,” Tom said when Diane emerged into the living room. She gave him a dirty look and held up her hand, which was almost as red as Megan’s bottom, and went into the bathroom to run cold water on it. By the time she returned and sat down beside him, the sound of sobbing in the den had stopped.

“Why don’t you peek in and make sure that she’s still in position and then bring her out here for a minute,” Tom said.

Diane got up and headed for the den. “She’d better be in position. I promised her another spanking if she moves and I don’t know if my hand can take it.”

“Don’t worry. If she’s foolish enough to disobey you at this point you can use the hairbrush to your heart’s delight.”

Diane smiled.

She opened the den door a crack and looked in. Then she turned to Tom, nodded, and opened it all the way.

“Megan, put your clothing in order and come out here, please. We’d like to speak with you.” Megan emerged from the den with mascara running down her face and Diane handed her a box of tissues. Then she rejoined Tom on the couch.

“Come here and sit with us, Megan,” Tom said.

She walked over to them and hesitated. “If you don’t mind, sir, I think that I’d prefer to stand.”

Tom smiled. “Okay. You survived your first spanking and all’s forgiven. I trust that your behaviour is going to be different from now on.”

“Yes sir, I promise that it will be. I know that I’ve been dreadful and that you were trying to help me, and you were right when you said that I lack self discipline. I guess that I still need someone to correct me from time to time.”

“Believe me, if you break the rules again you’ll be back over our knees so fast that it’ll make your head swim! And there’s something I want to show you.” He reached behind the couch cushion and pulled out a paddle.

“This is a traditional American school paddle. It’s sixteen by five inches of solid maple, half an inch thick and, as you can see, drilled with holes over its entire surface.”

He turned and hit the leather couch cushion full force with a resounding smack that made Megan jump. Then he locked eyes with her.

“If you ever pull another stunt like you did tonight I’ll paddle your behind until you can’t sit down. Do I make myself clear, young lady?”

Megan went stiff and her eyes were wide. She nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll never do it again, I swear.”

“Alright. Go to your room.”

Megan turned towards the stairs.

“And Megan?”

She turned and looked at him.

“You’re grounded until after mid-terms. You’ll go to class or to the library but nowhere else. We’re going to confiscate your phone and you’ll use your laptop and tablet for schoolwork only, and God help you if you disobey us on this. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Now go to your room.”

When she’d gone to her room and closed the door, Tom said, “Well honey, how long do you think it will be before we have to bend her over again?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “but it might take awhile before she learns not to risk it.” He sighed and they went back to bed.

The End

© Robert Gunn 2018