I was watching a ball game on TV when my kid sister called over the railing, “Hey Ron, come up here. Let me show you what I found.”
I was annoyed at being interrupted but I had to respond. Ever since mom gave Helga permission to spank me, I’ve tried to be on my best behavior.
It all started when my friend Jorge and I got busted by the cops for smoking some weed. It wasn’t a big deal; I mean the state just passed a law making it sort of legal. Well, I guess there were a couple of technicalities. You could have it. You just couldn’t sell it, buy it or smoke it. You could magically come into possession of it and as long as you keep it as a “collectable” item, it was OK – unless you are16 years old. Jorge and I were still under age.
At least I can say this about the cops. They were cool about it. They did a check on the computer and found out that Jorge and I were “clean;” that is, we didn’t have any other things on our record. So instead of arresting us and charging us, they took us home to let our parents deal with it.
And my parents most definitely did deal with it. They took my license and my car keys and my cell phone and my computer was moved to the kitchen where I could use it only to do homework, and my TV was impounded. I was sent into electronic exile.
That wasn’t the worst of it. Mom and dad were livid that I had disgraced and humiliated the family. For one thing, mom was running for city council and if word of this got out, it would ruin her chances.
I heard my dad say words that I had not heard in a half dozen years, “Son, bring me the chair.”
“No dad. You can’t do that, I’m too old!”
“Old enough to do the crime; old enough to do the time. Now get that chair in here now.”
As a child I was made to prepare for my spanking ritualistically. I had to bring the implements of my spanking: namely “The Chair” and a hairbrush or slipper to the living room, and then get undressed. This hadn’t happened for a long time. Even Helga hadn’t been spanked in a while although she never got more naked than her panties.
I brought the chair from the hallway into the living room. The living room was the place for a public execution. It was the most public place in the house, but at least it was not visible from the street.
Dad had undone his belt. This was going to be painful.
“No dad,” I said again.
“Drop those pants,” was his reply.
“You can’t do that. I’m a big boy. Helga will see.”
“You’re a big boy, alright,” mom put in, “too big for those britches you’re wearing. It’s only appropriate that you lose them.”
“At least send Helga away. I don’t want her to see me.”
“She’s staying,” dad said, “She has to see what the consequences of this kind of activity are.”
“But she’ll see my ….”
Helga actually laughed, “I know what boys look like. I studied Sex Ed in school. Sheesh, stop being such a little boy!” This statement had me concerned since the last time Helga saw me naked I was a little boy. She was just a toddler then.
I got my pants down and pulled down my underwear as fast as I could and got over my father’s lap. I wanted to hide my shame as much as possible and get the ordeal over as quickly as possible.
I soon forgot about the shame as my father’s belt bit into my flesh. I had always thought that spankings were painful things but they were mostly more humiliation than pain. That was then. This was now. I guess mom and dad held back in the past, but not this time. Apparently the intensity of the spanking was proportionate to the seriousness of the offense. Being almost arrested is a very serious offense.
Dad wasn’t at it very long. I probably only got about a dozen swipes with the belt, but each one of them felt like I was being branded.
It was over quickly but painfully and dad barked, “Get up.”
I put my hands to my behind and pulled them away quickly. I could not bear even to touch the spots dad had spanked. I then realized that Helga was gawking at me. I covered my front with my hands.
“Turn around,” mom ordered, “Show Helga what happens to children who disobey the law in this house.”
I was actually relieved to face away from my family. I could not bear to look at their faces.
“You know the drill,” mom said, “In the corner. I’ll tell you when you can come out.”
I stood there hands on my head, bare ass to the room. Dad put the chair away. Mom went into the kitchen to prepare dinner, Helga stayed behind. I couldn’t see her there but I could sense her presence.
Mom finally released me to get dressed and ordered me to go upstairs and clean up and come down for dinner. As I pulled up my underpants, it hurt. I managed to get them on my butt but it felt uncomfortable. I tried my pants but the material was too stiff and pressed against my rear end and chaffed. It was a too painful trip up the steps.
I stopped off at the bathroom and grabbed some ointment. I stripped in my room and looked at my backside in the mirror, but that only confirmed what I knew – I could already distinctly feel exactly where every welt was.
I applied the ointment carefully to my bruised and battered buttocks. I found a soft-cotton T-shirt and folded it carefully and placed it against my butt and held this in place with boxer shorts. It almost looked like I was wearing diapers. I decided to forego the pants.
Dinner was a quiet affair and after Helga and I cleaned it up, mom dropped the other bomb on me. She announced the conditions of my punishment but also said, “Who knows what you’ve gotten into. We can’t trust you. So one of the first things we are going to do is search your room to see if you have any more. So if you have any, it would be in your best interest to hand it over.”
All of us went upstairs. I immediately went into the closet, took the shoebox off the top shelf and handed it to mom. She took it to the bathroom. I could hear the toilet flush. I worked hard for the money to buy it and now it was down the drain.
I was hoping that handing over the last of my stash would be the end of it. However, mom soon instigated a detailed search of my room. Both she and dad and even Helga were checking everything even undoing the bed.
So it was inevitable that they also found my other stash – my pornography. Now I am not talking Playboy. I am talking about some pretty perverted stuff here. Mom said, “I’d have your father spank you again if you weren’t so sore. We will have to take some more severe measures I can see.”
After ransacking my room, they left with orders that I was to put it back in order and to stay in it.
Later, I was called down to the living room for a “family conference.” Helga was already there.
“Ron,” mom began, “you’ve proven yourself too unreliable to be left to your own devices. We can’t have you doing these kind of things and looking at filth. You’ll never grow up to be a responsible adult.
So you are going to have to be closely supervised. Now neither your father nor I can take off work so we can stay home and watch you, so we have decided to hire someone to do it.”
My mind went racing. Who do they know well enough to “babysit” me? Old Mrs. Horton next door? I hope so, she’s half blind and brain-addled. I could easily fool her and get away with things.
What mom said next was totally unexpected, “So Helga will be your watcher.”
The news was so shocking, that it didn’t immediately register. “Helga who?” I thought. Then it occurred that my sister’s name is Helga.
“You can’t mean her,” I protested, pointing at my sister. “She’s only 12. I’m older than her. She can’t tell me what to do.”
“She’s a lot more responsible than you are,” dad argued.
Mom continued, “She will keep an eye on you and report everything you do wrong to us. She has the right to inspect your room at any time with no notice. She has the right to tell you when you can go out, and when you must come back. She has the right to approve who comes over to visit you
And she has the right to discipline you. If you get out of hand, she has the right to spank you.”
“She can’t do that. She’s just a kid!”
“Think of it this way. You can let her spank you, or she can let one of us do it. I assure you, it will be worse if we do it. So far, all we have authorized her to do is hand spank you. Now if the offense is serious enough, we can still add to it, but we think that immediate correction is more effective.”
I was beaten in more ways than one. “On the bare?” I asked.
“If she thinks it’s necessary, yes.”
Somehow I got the impression that she would always think it necessary.
So this kind of brings me to where I am now. At first Helga was eager to exercise her new found power over me and would call me for a spanking for the most minor of misdemeanors, but after a while, she settled down and I was actually able to get through whole days without going over her lap.
It also helped that I was getting better at covering my tracks and finding places to hide my “treasures.” The obvious place to hide a dirty magazine is in a drawer or between mattress and box springs. Those were two of the first places Helga would go when she conducted her random inspections of my room. Sometimes I was there when she walked in; sometimes she did them while I was away; other times I was in the house and could hear her in there.
However, I was confident that she would never find the slots that I had taped to the back of the headboard on my bed. They were nothing more than cardboard and duct tape construction but each of them could hold several magazines.
So when she called me to come up and see what she had found, I figured it was nothing worse than a misplaced piece of dirty laundry. In addition to inspecting for contraband, she was also in charge of inspecting my room for cleanliness and neatness as well. I even needed her permission as to what posters I could put up on the walls: sports figures were OK, sexy female rock singers were not.
When I got to my room I found her with her head stuck out the door and the door partially closed so I couldn’t see in. She waited until I got right up to my room and then opened it fully.
My heart sank. There on the bed, spread out on display was my complete magazine collection.
She folded her arms and tapped one foot. “Well, what have you got to say?”
“I … I …,” was all I managed to babble.
“You know mom and dad don’t like this stuff. Didn’t you learn your lesson? What do you think they’ll do for a second offense?”
The memories of pain past came back. My rear end clinched up at the thought of another spanking like the one I got only a month or two ago.
“Please don’t tell. I’ll do anything!”
“You know that I will have to spank you for this, don’t you?”
I nodded my head and held it down in shame as I mumbled a “yes.”
“And since this is a particularly special crime, it will have to be a particularly special spanking.”
I nodded again, still focusing on the floor between us.
“I’ll make you a deal. I won’t tell mom and dad, but you have to keep what we do absolutely to yourself or I will show them the magazines and you’ll be in deep trouble then.”
“OK,” was all I managed to say.
“Tomorrow is Saturday. Mom and dad will be out. We’ll do it in the morning. For the moment, you are restricted to your room until mom and dad come home.”
Helga took the magazines and left. A thought occurred to me that if I could find where she hid them, I could take them back, destroy the evidence and weaken her case with our parents. The problem was, I did not have the right the search her room, so if I did it, it would have to be when absolutely nobody was home and that didn’t occur often. Besides, Helga’s a smart girl, she probably could hide them anywhere and would most likely not restrict hiding them to her room.
My thoughts then turned to what was going to be so “special” about this spanking. Heretofore, Helga had been restricted to hand spanking me. Was she going to use something else? I knew all the implements she had at her disposal: her hairbrush, dad’s belt, her slip on sneakers, even the ping pong paddle from the playroom downstairs.
I could hear her around various parts of the house chatting away on her phone. I decided to put the game on the little TV in my room to get my mind off my fate.
That evening at dinner mom asked her how my behavior was during the day. Helga responded, “Well I did an inspection of his room …” Here she went silent. This was it. She was going to tell. My stomach knotted. The second hand on the wall clock may have moved twice, but it seemed to have taken an hour for each movement.
She continued, “and I found.” Again silence.
“some minor infractions and I had him fix them on the spot. I didn’t even think it was worth a spanking.”
I started to breathe again. Helga had kept her promise. I felt like jumping up, hugging her and kissing her, but that would have been totally out of character for me.
Helga smiled at me and gave me a wink. It was game on, and I wondered what her next move was going to be. I could only wait until tomorrow morning.
Saturday was a busy day in our house. Mom would meet up with her friends, go shopping, have lunch, do some more shopping and otherwise blow about 5 or 6 hours of the day. Dad did a thing called golf.
This meant that us kids had the run of the house except that for the last 8 weeks, Helga was in charge of the running. I have to admit she was pretty lenient with me. After a morning room inspection, I was normally allowed to go out with my friends as long as I was back by the time she specified.
But not today; today I was restricted to my room with a stern warning not to come out until Helga called me.
After a while, I could hear some commotion downstairs. I thought I heard voices. Was that it? Was she having a party and because she had the magazines as blackmail, I was not able to tell on her? I would be lucky to get off so easily.
Anyway I brooded in my room for about 45 minutes. Suddenly, Helga opened the door. She came in and closed the door behind her. She had a scarf in her hand.
“Take you shirt off and put your hands in front of you,” she ordered. I did and she very effectively bound my wrists with some tie wraps. I was beginning to get apprehensive, but I wanted to get this special spanking over with, so I did not disobey.
Next she blindfolded me with the scarf. I could feel the silkiness around my head and it was quite comfortable. It was also quite effective; I couldn’t see a thing.
“Come with me,” she said as she led me by my arm. I could sense where I was even without seeing.
“Careful now,” she said as she turned me around and stopped me. “There’s a step down. Trust me and take it slowly.”
I put my foot out and let it down. Helga did a terrific job leading me. As I got about half way down, I could hear mutters and even some giggling. There were people there: at least several of them.
“Last step,” Helga announced. I felt both feet on the solid floor.
She led me into what I was sure was the living room and turned me around. It was quiet; I could hear people moving around I could even hear some of them breathing. I could tell that I was facing them.
“Hands behind your head,” Helga ordered. In spite of the wrist ties, I was able to do this easily.
Then I felt my sister’s hands as they went for my belt and undid it. The snap and zipper came next. Finally she hooked her fingers into the waistband and pulled my pants down.
Ever since mom said that she could spank me “in the bare,” Helga had never passed up the opportunity to do so. However, normally I was the one who took my clothes off. This time I was being stripped against my will.
I could have put up a fight, but it was useless. I was blindfolded, my hands were tied, and there were more than one of her. How many more, I did not know.
As the pants got past my knees there was some tittering and giggling in the audience.
Soon Helga was back steadying my shoulders with her hands. “Step out of them,“ she commanded. I could feel someone else tugging at the legs of my pants.
That someone else also lowered my underpants much to the delight of the crowd. As soon as my privates were exposed, there were gasps, giggles and some hushed whispering.
I was left to stand there like that for a while. Then someone – I couldn’t tell who, but whoever it was, was shorter than Helga – led me a couple of steps and turned me about 90 degrees. I could feel this person’s long hair and got the faint scent of a perfumed soap as she (as I guessed) got close to me to move my hands back in front of me.
She led me by these hands about two more steps and I could hear Helga’s voice come from in front of me. “Bend over,” she said.
I then felt two sets of hands on me as I was obviously being positioned over her lap. It was an all too familiar pose for me and I was soon in perfect position.
Helga didn’t start spanking immediately. She had a speech to make.
“Girls, I invited you over here today to have you watch me spank my brother who has been a naughty boy. You all saw the magazines he was reading. Doesn’t it make you mad that boys look at women that way?”
I heard a couple muffled “um-hums” from the crowd.
“I’ve been spanking my brother for a couple of months now, and it has been effective as a means of behavior modification. Some of you may have noticed that he is now more courteous. However, spanking alone has not been effective enough as you can see.
I think he was actually getting used to being naked over the lap of his ‘little’ sister, so I decided to up the stakes. Public humiliation is the key. I would have like to have taken him to the mall and done it there, but that’s not practical.
Besides, there’s no value in doing it in front of people he doesn’t know.
I am glad you could all make it to witness my brother getting what he deserves. I hope he learns his lesson this time. If he doesn’t, then maybe the next time I’ll invite each and every one of you to spank him.”
I could hear a buzz from the crowd.
“So without further ado – spanking my older brother!”
I could feel her body shift as she raised her arm. Down it came and hit me squarely on my left buttocks. It hurt! She hit me a lot harder than she normally did. I don’t know if she was trying to impress her audience or if she was as charged up on adrenaline as I was.
Spank after spank she delivered. I started to jerk with each one of them. After a while I started yelping with each one of them. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.
I don’t know how long she kept spanking me. It seemed like a long time. This was an elaborate set up and I am sure that she didn’t want to disappoint the crowd. To have that many people show up. (How many, I wondered) for a 60-second spanking would have been anticlimactic.
I was crying and sobbing uncontrollably by the time she stopped.
There was a moment of silence and then from a corner of the room, I heard a clap. This was soon followed by other claps and from the sound of scraping chairs the movement of the sound, I could tell that Helga had earned a standing ovation.
As the applause died down, Helga’s assistant – judging by her height, a different girl this time – helped me up and led me to the corner. “Hands on head,” I heard Helga tell me from behind.
I stood there with my back to the room. I could hear the milling around and hushed whispers. Apparently the crowd was gathering around congratulating Helga.
“Fell free to have a feel.” Helga said as she now stood next to me. At this she ran her fingertips over my hot and tender ass.
Soon the other girls did the same. It didn’t occur to me to count how many times my ass was touched, but my estimates was well into the 20s. There is no way the room could have held that many people. I guess some girls went back for seconds.
Eventually I could sense that the room was emptying. I could hear the back door open and indistinct voices outside.
I stood there in silence until I head Helga come back in. She turned me around and snipped the ties around my wrists. “You can take the blindfold off.”
I did and saw several chairs positioned in the living room: all facing the spanking chair.
“Help me get this place cleaned up,” Helga ordered.
As we were returning the furniture to where it belonged, she explained it to me.
“I am sure that by this afternoon I will have pictures and videos of me spanking you. A couple of the girls took pictures. In fact, I think they all did. If you don’t want them to get out, you’ll behave yourself from now on and you won’t mention this to anyone else.
All the girls that were here today are girls that you know. Some of them you see almost every day. They know who you are. You don’t know who they are. They have all been sworn to secrecy. This will be a secret among just ‘us girls.’ That is, unless you do something stupid.
Now think about it. From now on whenever
you go out and you see a girl, you’ll have to think, ‘Did she see
me get spanked?’ You’ll have to wonder, ‘Why is she smiling?’
She might just be amused at seeing you with your clothes on.”