CAROLINE SPANKED

BY MASTER CHRIS

Part 3

From the age of 11 my 'regular spankings' were all done in the
nude. The exercise was stunningly embarrassing for me and, as I
developed even further as an adolescent, my breasts grew, my
nipples got darker and much larger, my bottom became rounder, my
light blond pubic hair stayed a light non-helpful dusting that
never really covered anything and the level of humiliation at
having to strip in front of my parents increased on the
logarithmic scale.

On rare occasions however, I had experienced a different kind of
spanking. This kind of punishment was more formal and,
fortunately, only happened once or twice a year. A 'proper'
punishment was terrifying and much, much worse. These kinds of
punishments were reserved for times when I had been really bad.
The last 'proper' punishment I'd received had been when I had
just turned 11 and had sneaked into the nearby woods with two of
my friends. We weren't allowed to go into the woods on our own.

The second I got home, I knew I was in for it.

"I just got a call from Maureen's Mom. You were in the woods,
weren't you?" said my Mom.

I nodded miserably. To my horror I wasn't immediately pulled over
my Mom's knee.

"Get to the living room corner and you can wait there for your
father," my Mom instructed. "He'll give you a proper strapping
when he gets home. Maybe that will improve your memory of where
you should and shouldn't go when you play."

I started crying right away when sentenced was pronounced. As I
headed to the corner I knew that I was in for a horrible night.

When my father gave me a strapping, I would be bent over a piece
of furniture, usually the arm of the sofa. My pants would be down
of course and my bottom bare but it was my father's leather strap
that made the experience worth being afraid of. Unlike my regular
spankings, a proper punishment took time and the strap was an
implement that was used in a way that each smack was given a
moment to sink in. The net effect was a deep burning heat that
would leave me drenched in tears.

If it was my mother giving the proper punishment, she favored a
long handled bath brush. It was also a fearsome instrument and
she could place her smacks within millimeters of where she
intended.

It came as no surprise that once my regular spankings became all
nude spankings that there would be some change to my 'proper'
punishments. I thought of it numerous times after I was 11 and
when I'd get in a little trouble. My parents threatened several
times that year to give me a proper punishment and the threat
alone was enough to have me change my behavior instantly. For
years I had found myself bent over for a proper punishment at
least once a year if not twice but the year I was 12 I managed to
get through an entire year without a proper spanking. I continued
to have numerous regular punishments and while I never got
comfortable with having to strip naked, it was something that I
grew to expect.

Shortly after I turned 13, disaster struck and I found myself
facing my first proper punishment in 14 months. I had been
playing with friends and, despite my best opportunity to resist,
I found myself trying a cigarette for the first time. My parents
were nowhere to be found. After all, I wasn't close to home but
my friend Angela's mom came across us in the back yard. I was
terrified. I begged her not to call my Mom but the call went out
before I even got home.

My Mom was waiting at the front door when I arrived a few minutes
later, tears already welling up in my eyes. I looked up at her,
hopeful that I'd be in for a regular punishment but one peek at
her face and I realized that I was in deep, deep trouble.

"I'm too angry to even talk to you about this," my mother said
with a grim face. "Get in the house."

My head hung down in despair. I was going to get it.

My Mom took me by the arm and dragged me into the living room.
"Clothes off," she said in disgust.

As usual, I removed all my clothes quickly and headed for the
corner.

"I didn't tell you to get in the corner Caroline," my Mom said
slowly. "I can see you're having a great deal of trouble
listening to your parents. We'll see what a proper spanking does
for your hearing. Now get back over here."

I turned around and came back to my Mom. I figured I'd be bent
over the arm of the sofa but my Mom had other ideas. I had grown
some in the last 14 months and we had a low-backed easy chair in
the living room. My Mom had me turn the chair around so it was
facing away from the room. Grasping me firmly by the arm and
dragged me to the back of the chair.

"Bend over it," she said.

I whimpered a bit as I bent over the back of the sofa. My
mother's hands pushed at my back until I was fully bent over. My
feet were firmly touching the floor but my bottom was now placed
way up high in the air. It was the perfect level for a strapping
which I was sure was coming later.

My mother wasn't quite done. With her foot, she pushed at my
ankles until they were wide apart, each foot touching the legs of
the chair. I could feel the air conditioning in the room wafting
across my suddenly very exposed pussy and realized for the first
time that not only my bum but also my complete vulva were fully
exposed from behind. I felt more vulnerable than at any time in
my life.

My Mom scooped up my clothes and left me there, bent over,
exposed to the room.

It would be close to an hour before my father got home and in
that intervening I suffered an agony of anticipation. I dared not
move an inch and every sound in the house sounded like a stranger
walking in. I was mortified.

My father finally got home and I could hear my parents talking to
each other about my transgression. I didn't have long to wait
now.

I could here my father pause at the hall closet. There could be
only one thing he'd be stopping for; his leather strap. I sobbed
into the soft cushions of the chair back that my face and breasts
were pressed into.

My Dad's strap was a weapon to be feared. It had started out life
as a belt I suppose but no longer carried any kind of buckle. It
was pure black, worn leather. It was 2 inches wide and although
it was quite thick it was also very supple. He would double it up
and usually used a full swing before the leather would connect
with my bottom in a tremendously loud smack. The sound would
arrive at my ears before the scorching sensation reached my
brain. Once the strapping was underway though, the pain and
intensity was pretty much non stop until it was over.

The tears started as I thought of that strap coming closer to my
helpless bottom.

I could sense him standing right behind me and suddenly thought
of the exposed view I was providing. It had been hideous enough
over the past year and change to have to show my breasts and
pussy hair as well as my often exposed bottom in front of him but
being spread out and bent over like this was awful. I could feel
his eyes looking right up between my legs. I knew he could see
everything I had.

"Well Caroline?" his voice was right behind me. "Do you have
anything to say for your incredibly stupid behavior?"

"No, Sir," I mumbled. There was really no excuse.

"Your mother and I have tried to explain how dangerous smoking is
for you but you clearly haven't been willing to listen to that
lesson. Now I'm going to try to have you learn it in a way that I
hope you won't forget.

A sob burst from me. I knew what was about to happen.

My father's left hand came down on the small of my back to hold
me still and suddenly the sound of the first smack reached my
ears. I searing pain followed a moment later and I burst into
tears. He waited a few seconds then the strap came down again
full across my buttocks. Each couple of seconds the strap made a
blistering line of fire across my bottom. The lines went first up
from the crease of my buttocks to the top of my crack and then
down again. I would have jumped up to try to escape except for my
father's firm hand on the small of my back. It went on for
several minutes by which time I was a sniveling mess. I was
sobbing and crying without pause and snot was dripping helplessly
from my nose. I was beet red and unable to think about anything
but my prayers that the strapping would stop.

Finally it did. My legs had been kicking all over the place but
my father used his foot to push my ankles back to the sides of
the chair.

My father waited a moment or two until my sobbing was almost
under control before getting my attention again. I was feeling
much more naked again with my father walking around the chair
still holding the strap in his hand. My bottom was on fire.

"Well Caroline, you've been punished for not following the
rules," said my Dad. "You knew that not smoking was an absolute
rule in this house, you broke that rule and you've been punished
for it. But, I haven't punished you for actually smoking. I'm
going to give you four more strokes with the strap for that now.
I expect you to remain absolutely still for four more strokes.

I sobbed again. My bottom couldn't take any more.

My father was standing beside me now, facing towards my bottom
with a view over the small of my back. To my absolute
humiliation, I felt his cool hand touch my burning buttocks then
pass all over them, feeling the heat.

"Oh my God," I whispered to myself. The sheer embarrassment of
having my father touch my buttocks was mortifying.

"Alright Caroline," he said softly. "Are you ready for your four
strokes?"

I paused for a moment before answering. I took a depe breath then
said softly "Yes, Sir." I was in for the surprise of my life.

As soon as I said I was ready, my Dad's hand stopped on my right
buttock. He was still standing at my side, facing towards my
bottom and his left hand was firmly cupping my right buttock with
his fingers pointing down towards the floor. This left his thumb
resting along the side of the crack of my bum. As humiliating as
it was to have my Dad's hand on my freshly strapped, absolutely
naked buttock, what he did next took my breath away.

With a firm motion, my father pulled my right buttock to the
side, pulling my bottom crack wide, wide open.

"No!" I cried but before I could move an inch, the strap was in
motion and with a heat hotter than the sun itself, it landed
along my inside of my still white crease.

My hands leapt back to try to reach the exposed flesh.

"Hands DOWN Caroline!" my Dad said firmly. With a bout of fresh
tears, I lowered my hands again.

No sooner had I done so but the strap was in motion again,
delivering another line of fire on top of the first.

My cries were inconsolable but there were still two strokes to
come. My father was already in motion, moving to my other side
and holding my left buttock now firmly in one hand. I could feel
him pulling it and again, I was left spread wide open.

He held me like that for a moment and I found all my attention
focused on a 1 inch square of flesh, my pink and now exposed
anus.

I was held like that for a long moment then the strap was in
motion again. This time the other side of my white crease
received the strap and again I was in agony. A pause then the
strap was in motion again. This time, the strap didn't cover the
exact spot but was shifted an inch closer to the center.

To my shock it landed along the middle left and middle of my
crease including right over my pulsing anus which turned to
flames.

My hands clawed back of their own accord, pulling at my buttocks,
stretching them wide in a vain attempt to let the burning heat of
my anus get at the air in the room.

My father moved behind me once again, watching me pull myself
wider and wider apart, not caring that I was exposing my most
intimate parts to the room. "Well, she's not going to forget that
in a hurry." It was my Mom. They were both there, behind me and I
was showing everything to them as I continued to pull my buttocks
wide open despite my desire to protect myself.

It was several minutes before the humiliation of being exposed
could overcome the pain along the crease of my buttocks. I let my
bottom go and returned my hands to the cushion in front of me.
After all, I had not been given permission to get up.

"No Caroline," said my father. "I think the position you were in
suits you best, get those hands back there and hold your bottom
wide open."

I reached back slowly and pulled my hot buttocks wide open again.
This time I was reluctant to do so. Although I had just done so
willingly while the pain in my anus was severe, now it was to
expose myself further and I could feel more tears coming as I
exposed my bum and my pussy from behind. There was nothing I
wanted to do less than open myself like that but after the
strapping I'd just had, I was prepared to obey virtually any
instruction. When I had spread my buttocks as wide apart as I
could, I waited. I could feel the eyes of my parents looking
directly into that area that I would have done anything to
protect.

I was left like this for a minute or two. They seemed like days
to me.

Finally, my father spoke again. "This position seems to get your
full attention. From now on, if you're to get a proper
punishment, you'll be waiting just like this over the chair.
You'll be nude. You'll have your feet spread and you'll be
holding your little bottom wide open like this waiting for
punishment. You'll do that Caroline, no matter who is in the
room. Do you understand?"

I whimpered my reply. "Yes, Sir."

"Very well, you can stand up now," he said. I stood up slowly and
turned to face him. My hands went to the top of my head without
asking. I had experienced such a number of regular spankings in
the nude now that I knew not to cover up no matter how much I
wanted to.

My father reached over and took me by the arm. I thought I was
heading to the corner but in fact his destination was only about
half-way. They had placed a short footstool from my Dad's
workshop in the middle of the room. It was about a foot high and
no more than a foot square. I was told to get up on the footstool
and put my hands on my head. I was still crying some. My parents
sat down on the sofa where I was right in front of them when it
finally occurred to me. The living room curtains were wide open!

While I'd been bent over being spanked I was pretty much
invisible but now, now I was standing in front of the whole
neighborhood. At least I was facing away from the picture window
in our living room wall but anyone who looked directly into the
house at this moment would see my naked back and buttocks.

My father looked my up and down. He and Mom were standing right
in front of me. "Sixteen minutes Caroline," he said, looking at
his watch.

Tears trickled down my fact again at this newest humiliation.

When the time on the stool was over, I was finally left to head
upstairs and put my t-shirt for bed. I was never so happy to
leave the living room as that moment.

It was the last time I ever tried smoking.