Excerpt from Parenting Today magazine September 2023 issue. Letters from readers section:
This month's featured letter comes to us from the daughter of a subscriber. To protect her privacy we've changed her name and she will be referred to as ‘Emma.’ We hope you enjoy her letter.
Dear Excellence,
My name is Emma and I'm seventeen years old. My parents are long-time subscribers, and they thoroughly enjoy your magazine. In recent months the discipline section of your magazine has featured some articles on corporal punishment. These have mainly been geared towards parents who are administering the punishment. I thought readers might like a story from the perspective of someone on the receiving end. To that effect, I'm writing to tell you about a spanking I was given recently. At the time of this writing, it has been three weeks. This was the first spanking I've had in about three years, and it was a humbling experience to say the least.
When I asked my parents for advice on writing this letter they gave me a suggestion of some questions I should answer. I'll list them here and then proceed to answer each one as I go along.
What did I do to earn this punishment?
How did Dad prepare me for the spanking?
How was my spanking carried out?
What did I learn from the experience?
What did I do to earn this punishment?
It all started one Friday night when I was hanging out with a friend of mine from school. This friend, I'll call her K, lives about three houses down from me. We were hanging out at her house while her parents were out for the evening. K told me she had a surprise for me. I was in fact quite surprised when she went into her bedroom closet and came out with a twelve pack of beer that she'd been hiding from her parents. I drank one with her, then another, and another. In total we each drank five. I stayed a little while longer, then left and staggered back home. I thought that I would be able to casually stroll in and hide my drunken state. I was very much mistaken.
Between my difficulty with balance and the smell of alcohol on my breath it didn't take much for my dad to find me out. He chose to wait and deal with it the next day. I barely managed to get upstairs to my room, passing out shortly thereafter.
The next morning, I woke up with an awful hangover. My mom helped me out by cooking me a nice big breakfast, which was accompanied by about four cups of coffee. After I ate, my dad told me that I should take a shower and get dressed, and that we needed to talk when I finished getting ready. I had a good idea what this ‘talk’ was going to lead to so I dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. I wanted some kind of padding on my backside, even though it wasn’t likely to help much.
I was really hoping to either convince him that the hangover was punishment enough, or get by with a good long grounding. If I had been grounded for about two weeks I would have had to miss a concert that I had already bought a ticket for. Surely, that would teach me a lesson.
How did Dad prepare me for the spanking?
I met Dad in the living room and we sat on the couch talking. It was clear early on in the conversation that there would be no hope of a grounding. Dad also didn't find the hangover to be a sufficient consequence. I apologized for my actions, and told him that I understood that there would be consequences. Then it was just a matter of discussing the specifics of it. Anytime he was going to spank me, he always discussed it with me beforehand. I appreciated this as I think it would be a much more scary experience if I didn't know what to expect.
Dad decided that I'd get one lick for each beer I drank. In addition, since I was four years below the legal drinking age I'd get four more added on. Also, since drinking was something I'd been warned about repeatedly, he tacked on three more as a reminder. We both stood up then and he hugged me. My dad never liked giving me spankings any more than I liked getting them. He'd always give it his best effort, but to him it was like an unpleasant chore that he had to do.
He told me to go to his office and get the ruler, and then come back to the living room. Having me retrieve the implement has always been part of the ritual. I've learned from life experience that anticipating a spanking can be almost as bad as getting one. Having to carry the ruler and hand it to him always helps the reality of the situation sink in for me.
The ruler itself is eighteen inches long and probably an inch and a half wide. It's maybe an eighth of an inch thick, and I can tell it's made from a very sturdy wood. I can never avoid thinking about how badly it's going to sting when it impacts my bottom. That makes the short walk from dad’s office to the living room feel about three times longer than it is.
How was my spanking carried out?
I came back to find a padded barstool in the center of the living room, just like I had when I’d been spanked before. I approached trepidatiously, and handed dad the ruler. He had me stand in front of the stool, and widen my stance, so that my feet were about shoulder width apart. Then he told me to bend over the stool and grab on to the legs.
This position is always tough for me. It causes my pants and panties to pull very tight across my backside while making it a very easy target. On top of that it's incredibly embarrassing.
I'm not entirely sure why, but as I bent over into position I silently decided to myself that I wasn't going to cry this time. That didn't work out so well. I felt dad line the ruler up on my bottom and tap it a couple of times. Then he uttered the words I dreaded so much.
"Okay Emma, here it comes."
Then he drew the ruler back and swatted my butt with a resounding sharp crack. The sting of the impact was even worse than I had remembered. I let out a whimper. He paused his usual three or four seconds, and then brought the second lick down right on top of the first, and I inhaled through my teeth. The third lick got my sit spot really good and brought out a yelp as my eyes also started to water. The fourth and fifth brought me to a full on sob. By the seventh lick I was blubbering incoherent apologies. Dad probably wanted to end it there out of mercy, but he is a man of his word. If he tells me I’m getting a certain number of licks he always follows through. He kept going and I think I lost count around nine or so.
Finally, Dad told me that it was done and I could get up when I was ready. I slowly pushed myself back up to a standing position. This spanking was exceptionally difficult to endure. Partly because Dad had paid a lot of attention to my sit spots, and partly because I’d never had this many licks before.
He set the ruler down on the stool and hugged me. I sobbed into his chest for a few minutes. When I settled myself a bit and pulled back dad told me once again that he loved me. I told him I loved him too, and then went up to my room.
I lay face down on my bed for a while and finished crying. Once I was done I got up and took off my jeans and panties, then checked my bottom in the mirror. There was a line of dark red along the lower portions of my bottom and some of the backs of my thighs. It was very sore to the touch as expected.
What did I learn from this experience?
This painful lesson was not a new one, but rather a reinforcement of one I was taught previously. I should have known better than to drink at my age. I guess there are some things that I just have to learn the hard way. Still, I think it's better to learn it from the ruler than a Driving Under the Influence.
For the rest of the weekend the lesson continued to be taught every time I sat down. I've given a lot of thought to the whole experience, and I can honestly say I will not be drinking again anytime soon. I hope you've enjoyed reading this letter, and I hope I've provided some valuable insight.
Sincerely,
Emma.
The End
© Paul Tecres 2024