Dear Alana- 11- Written by Louis Vancisic

Dear Alana,

So this is the continuation of the story of one of my most memorable punishments; an incident, that occurred when I was twelve and Cathy was nine.

In my last letter, I told you about how I aided my sister Cathy to visit her friend in violation of Mom's rules about not leaving the house except when she's at home. Then, not knowing she already knew better, I lied to Mom and assured her that we'd been good girls. This made Mom even angrier and she slapped my face very hard four times.That's where I left off.

*****

I will admit that slapping me across the face four times served to relieve the anger that had boiled up inside of Mother and she could now think more clearly about the steps that must follow. Her tone shifted from one of rage to one of profound disappointment. Speaking to the both of us, she reminded us that what we did was not only an issue of obedience, but just as importantly, safety. At the end she asked us if we understood why we were going to be punished.

I know that what Cathy wanted to say was "because we didn't follow your stupid and unreasonable rule about us having to stay in the house all the time." I put my finger to my lips and though her eyes condemned me for my submissiveness, she nodded her assent.

"Ye..yes, Mommy", I began shakily, "because I ..uh …..disobeyed your rules and helped Cathy leave the house and go down the street. I know it's wrong to disobey you and you should punish me for doing that."

"Then sweetie", her voice softened, "why did you do it?"

"Be….be…because it's so hard for Cathy to not be with her friends. I don't mind being alone so much. I like to read anyhow. But Cathy really needs to play and be with other kids. I feel so bad for her, Mommy." Sympathy poured through Mom's stern visage.

"I do too sweetie. It hurts me to have to keep you girls cooped up so much but it's just too dangerous out there. I just can't take that chance ….and I can't let you take that chance either. I know you understand that, Janet?"

"I do Mommy …I'm really sorry … but please, Mommy ….don't punish Cathy too. I encouraged her to do it and told her to leave by the window. She said you'd be angry and I told her that you wouldn't find out. Besides I am the older sister and it was my responsibility."

Icaught Cathy's eyes widen in amazement and the offer a fluttering….thanks.Mom raised her eyebrows.

"Do you fully understand what you are saying? You know that I believe in a full and separate punishment for each offense and for each culprit. That means whatever punishment Cathy would have received, you will receive in her place."

"Yes…Mom ..I understand." I understood even more. I also understood that, on Cathy's behalf, I would not be receiving spankings suitable to a nine year old. No, the level of correction would be adjusted to suit my greater size and stamina. However, just so I don't lose sight of whose spanking I'm getting, Mom will prepare me as she would my little sister.

I also understood that the multitude of punishments facing me would likely require that it be administered over several days.

"All right then. I will begin by reminding you of the offenses that each of you girls have committed. Janet, you are guilty of deliberate disobedience, putting your sister in danger and lying to me. Cathy,you are guilty of deliberate disobedience and disregarding safety. That's five serious offenses girls. So what does that mean?"Cathy glanced at me. I swallowed hard.

"F..five punishments Mom."

"Five serious punishments", she corrected. She went on to describe a series of corporal punishments and their corresponding offenses but the one that most upsetting was the grounding. Spankings and whippings are painful and humiliating but relatively quick. There was a three day weekend coming up and except for chores, I was to be completely restricted to my room. My bedtime would be six o'clock sharp; washed up, teeth brushed, in my nightie and in bed. My chores and schoolwork would all have to be done by then. There would be no radio, no books, no dolls, just bed, until 8AM the next day. Fourteen hours a day to do nothing but sleep and stare at the four walls. I actually began taking comfort that my corporal punishments would serve to relieve the crushing boredom.

Meanwhile, Mom turned to Cathy.

"As for you, little girl, you're not going to get off the hook entirely. You may not get a spanking but you're going to see several. You are to be present and watch while your big sister takes all of her, and, I remind you, all of your, spankings."

My first reaction was to want to protest against this additional embarrassment but I could not argue with the soundness (from her perspective) of Mom's reasoning. So that wasn't going to go anywhere. So I focused on the positive. Guilt racked Cathy would be nothing but compassionate. I knew a girl whose younger brother and sister would often revel in watching or hearing her get a spanking. Then, later on,when she was in her room crying, they'd sneak in and cruelly tease her. If Cathy snuck into my room it would be to comfort me with a kiss and a cool washcloth.

"Y..yes Mommy", Cathy reluctantly acknowledged.

"Very well then, right after dinner I will administer, to you Janet, Cathy's spanking for disregarding safety."

"Uh ..Mom ", I sheepishly began "I'm um …not really hungry. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather uh ….get my sp….spanking now and maybe …you know ……um ….just skip dinner."

Mom chuckled. "I know what you mean sweetie. Sure, we can do that."

"Th…thanks, Mom" I murmured.

She instructed me to bring her the hairbrush while she set up the chair. I executed the distressing errand and with vibrating hands turned over the formidable smooth wooden backed instrument. Mom examined it and then instructed me to raise my skirt. I stooped slightly, secured the hem of my pleated jumper and under slip and gracefully began lifting them to my waist. I could not suppress a moan of humiliation and my lips vibrated as I heroically fought to hold back the tears clouding my eyes. Mom spoke again, very gently this time, once more explaining her view of the situation.

Moved by her warm tone, I truly endeavored to focus on and profit from her words but could not counter the distracting embarrassment of my bare thighs and panty covered privates on display. Cathy's stares added to my humiliation and I could not stem the waves of furious blushes cascading across my face.

I tried moving to Mom's side to get in position but she had other ideas. Guiding me back to stand directly in front of her, she reached forward and laid her fingertips on the waistband of my panties. Ignoring my gasp and "protesting" she slowly edged the thin intimate garment down my legs to the bottom of my thighs, exposing my huddling ivory colored buttocks and …….uh… well ..…. you know what else.

Standing like that, all exposed, in front of my mother and little sister, I wished I could melt into the floor. Finally, Mom pulled me around to her side. Placing one hand on her outer thigh, with other securing my upturned clothes I bent forward and wriggled myself into place on her lap. Then releasing my skirt I repositioned my hands, one to Mom's calf, the other to a chair strut, to keep them out of trouble.

Mom turned to Cathy and asked her to hold the hairbrush while she gave me a "warm up."

Then, satisfied with everyone's position, Mom touched my huddling feminine curves; then raised her arm and delivered a sharp SMACK across the surface of both cheeks. They quivered from the force of the first blow. My first response to the blows was only a grunted "Uh!", but this was soon replaced by more anxious "oh's" and "oo ooh's".

I endured the first ten spanks quite well. The next round , however, began challenging my twelve yard old fortitude. Mother's hand fairly bounced off my bottom as she progressively spanked it harder. Fighting to preserve some demeanor, I pressed my legs together. As the correction continued, a fearful suffering burned my bared bounding bottom, virtually obliterating my shame and offended modesty.

I no longer felt like the budding teenager with developing bodily charms; I felt only the little girl yielding to the pain of a spanking. I felt my reddened bottom, arch up only to flatten in convulsive reactions to the slowly applied but stinging blows bestowed by my mother. As the count approached I could make out the sound of my own gentle weeping; weeping, that increased in both pitch and intensity with each succeeding spank. Without fanfare, the spanking ended at the thirtieth blow. Stretched out across Mom's knees, I continued to cry and wriggle my blazing bottom in every direction to ease the discomfort of the spanking.

Mom stroked my hair and rubbed my back and cuddled me on her lap. Later on I would better appreciate the beauty of those loving gestures but, at that moment, the frightful knowledge that this was, but, an all too brief interlude, overwhelmed my ability to feel much emotional comfort.

Finally, Mom informed me that it was time for me to get up and spend some time in the corner "contemplating the lesson that I was being taught." And to help keep me focused, I was to maintain my skirt and slip in the "up position." Amidst, a flurry of tears, my right hand reached back to clutch the hem of my skirt and ensure that my bottom remained on display. Mom helped me to rise and gently took my hand and led me to the designated corner where I would spend the next twenty minutes.

In my family, the purpose of corner time is for us to contemplate our mistakes and assess how our punishment will help us from repeating our sins. Usually it's at the conclusion of the corporal punishment and so, at first, I greet it as a welcome relief from the pain of the spanking. The relief, however, quickly fades as I now have the added burden of keeping my hands away from my flaming behind. Rubbing is absolutely forbidden so to counter the temptation to reach behind me, I keep a tight grip on my skirt and repeat to myself that each anguished throb is helping to make me healthier and stronger.

I also seek relief in wriggling my bottom and shuffling my feet. These little mental and physical strategies do help but it's really the passage of time that provides a meaningful diminution of the painful pulsations. Picking up the punitive slack, however, is a sense of rising shame at such continued exposure to my mother. But having Mom leave the room to attend to other matters only makes me fell even more anxious. For now, the possibility exists that I might be out of her line of sight, makes the temptation to reach behind and touch my burning behind even more unbearable. So, instead of concentrating on the benefits of my punishment, I strain to hear her movements, inching my head and eyes to the right in hopes of catching a glimpse of the room without being noticed. But not daring enough to complete the turn, I am never sure where she is and so caution prevails and my hands frustratingly remain in place.

The cumulative effect of the physical and emotional anguish usually keeps me crying the whole time. Anyhow, this time, with Mom and Cathy present the whole time, no such temptation existed. An eerie silence, punctuated only by my sniffled sobs, prevailed as Mom read a book and Cathy just sat there fretting and looking. Though nobody was speaking to me, I didn't feel, in the least, ignored. I'm sure that Mom wasn't so engrossed in her novel that she didn't glance up from time to time to study her handiwork. And though she spoke not a word, I knew that she was thinking. For Mom had often told me what a pretty bottom I had and how nicely it colored from a spanking. I'd blush but she would say it with such love that I could only feel flattered.

There was one other difference from normal corner time. Corner time is used as an additional penance at the completion of a spanking. So your punishment isn't over till corner time is over.

"Alright Janet, you may come back now." I cringed and turned around. Shuffling back toward Mom, head bowed and hands fumbling with my skirt, my eyes fixed on the waiting hairbrush.