Sunday, 6 November 2011

Don't Look Now - an Awakening story

I recently posted a story from a reader about his awakening to the arousing nature of a sound spanking. I challenged other readers to share their experiences and Brett took me up on that challenge sending me the most delightful mixture of fact and fiction as to how his feelings were awakened as a young man.


From Premium Spanking. A young lady has her bottom bared and readied for smacking.


From Punished Brats. Mum goes to work and the girl's lungs open up.


Freshly spanked and on display. From Platinum Fetish.

Don't Look Now

What is it that makes us who we are? The good and the bad. The common and the unusual. This question, of great interest to people, has yet to be answered to everyone's satisfaction. Many questions follow, starting with a consideration of the familiar "nature vs nurture" debate. Are we born with all possibilities predetermined? Or do we pop out of the womb as empty vessels ready to be filled and shaped by experience? Does the truth lie somewhere between? 
 
When Jacob Miller was a boy, he saw something he would never forget. It may have changed him forever. It may have only given him an extra push in a direction he was already headed. What Jacob saw was what his mother called a good sound spanking. He had seen spankings before, both good and sound, but on this occasion it was his big sister who got in trouble. Katie Miller was sixteen at the time. Now if you were a boy barely thirteen, do you think that might be something you would remember? Well, Jacob sure remembers it and everything that happened that day.

To begin to understand Jacob Miller's big sister, then a Junior attending school at Reseda High, this phrase should apply---full of rebellion. Like "good sound spanking," full of rebellion was his mother's three choice words to describe her daughter, though by most standards, Kathleen Margaret Miller, named after her great grandmother, was not so bad as you might think, and you might also be inclined to thank Audrey Miller for that -- and go right ahead and give some credit to Audrey's husband, Robert Miller, that all five of the Miller kids, three boys and two girls, were the kind who would not have caused you much grief as neighbors. For generations the Miller mission in life had been to make good boys and girls. It appeared they had the formula, and if there was to be any Miller rebellion, it had to be strictly an underground movement.

And so Katie Miller's rebellion at sixteen was something of a covert operation. Up to the point where this short story really begins, she had been pretty successful at it. Audrey did not know the half of what was going on in her daughter's head. The teenager often wished to express her full inner turmoil but was obliged to keep a lid on it when in the presence of her mother. When it came to modern teen angst, Audrey was not particularly sympathetic. She was generally not fond of anything that could be described as modern, and "kids these days have it so easy" was her familiar refrain. In the Miller household, Katie's mother was always the final arbiter of propriety and fashion, her tastes running strongly in favor of wholesome. This was to Katie's enduring torment, and when the sixteen-year-old left the house for school in the morning, she was dressed like just a girl---a pretty girl, but nothing worn to flirt with the boys or to proclaim her awesome sense of style. For school Katie wore comfortable attire, but not to forget a firm commitment to her higher education.

Once Katie got to school, or for that matter any distance outside her mother's sphere of influence, all was revealed behind the veil. It was there that the teenager's free spirit, both bright and dark, could take flight and join the ranks of the restless. Young Jacob had often seen his sister hanging out with the wrong kids, the kind who made his Mom have a cow. It was his Dad who had won the argument that all the Miller children should attend public school, where a wider mix of teenagers from more diverse backgrounds were brought together for what passed as a contemporary education. Katie did not have to look the part to fit comfortably with the rougher-edged crowd. Having the attitude was enough. Jacob admired his older sister, and he figured all would remain cool as long as she could manage her two separate worlds and keep them from colliding. That collision was unthinkable.

When it happened that day, Jacob Miller was in his bedroom. Outside his door the house would have been quiet but for his big sister in the midst of a snit. A big one. He could hear the raised voices coming from the direction of the kitchen, and they were making him anxious. He did not care for confrontation in any case, and voices raised at home were usually the first sign of trouble. It had become more apparent that morning at breakfast. Katie was being disrespectful and argumentative with Mom---and didn't she know that was risky business?

"All my friends get to go!" He heard her yell. Jacob knew who some of those friends were, and he wondered if his mother might be smart to say no. Johnny Manson, a senior at Reseda High and Katie's current crush, a name that was never going to be spotted on the student honor roll, was going. Still, Jacob was siding with his sister. Thirteen was too old for parents not to let you go where you wanted to go, and Katie was no less than sixteen. He had been keeping his opinions to himself.

Young Jacob had sensed the tension in the house for days. Sis had been ornery and sullen, and she and Mom had been kind of at it the whole time but not so out of hand as to get Katie in trouble. Jacob was not aware of the fact that, after much frustration the previous year, Audrey Miller had decided that her troubled daughter, after all the groundings and privileges lost, needed a little more space to express her unjustified grievances. It really was none of his business, and that afternoon he was in his room with the door closed and minding his own. He didn't think anyone even knew he was home. It was a rare Saturday afternoon in June that he was not at the park with a bat and ball in hand. When he heard things heating to a fevered pitch, he cracked his door.

"We've been over this and over this. I don't know these friends of yours, and I don't care what their folks let them do."

"It's for one blessed night. I'm not going to do anything wrong!"

"I would have never dreamed to ask your gramma to let me spend the night on some beach and with boys there. I don't want to hear another thing about it."

"This isn't the farm, Mother," Katie said, and Jacob cringed at his sister's snotty tone. He cringed harder when she shouted, "How am I supposed to have any damned social life?"

As he listened to the domestic battle that day, in his mind there was a word taunting Jacob. He was not about to admit it to anyone but, for the longest time, the word had had a way of messing with his insides. Now it teased him again with a wicked grin, poking him in the ribs to ask if he thought it might just happen. What he wanted was for the word to go away. He was sure Katie had not suffered the indignity of a spanking in a long time. She thought she was much too old. If it was not already something too obvious to be taken for granted, he knew Katie's thoughts on the matter because he had recently caught her smoking a cigarette at Reseda Park and had warned her what could happen if she wasn't careful. His big sister had snorted, informing him that she didn't think so. No way. Jacob thought he was being helpful, but instead he was a dumb little brother to even suggest such a stupid thing.

He did not want it to happen. Never mind his fascination. Forget what was eating at his belly. Jacob would have been much happier if nobody ever got spanked at the Miller house, and to get a better idea of what was going on, he was a mouse opening his bedroom door and stepping out into the hallway. From the direction of the kitchen, Katie's voice was rising higher. He was hearing words he wished he wasn't hearing -- words that spelled trouble. But how much trouble? What kind of trouble?

"Watch your language, young lady!" Mom did warn her, but Katie wasn't listening. 

Jacob had heard her use curse words before. Many times. Coming from the mouth of that different person away from home and with her friends and the way she talked, if Mom ever heard, his big sister would have been marched away right then and there - maybe even swatted right in front of her friends and on the way home to a mouth-soaping. Knowing Mom, it would not have surprised him at all, but Katie might have just died of embarrassment if it happened.

As the argument coming from the kitchen increased in intensity, Jacob's stomach in sympathy tightened. His insides felt as if he was the one in trouble. Katie's friends were not around that day, and that was lucky for her, because a point was reached where she totally lost it. Jacob's big sister shouted, right to their mother's face, a woman who had been raised on a farm and with God's holy book to guide her, three words put together as the most unholy of suggestions.   

For several beats of his heart, there was an agonizing silence. He then heard the drawer opened and quickly slammed shut. Audrey Miller did not say a word, not one, not two, not three. There were scuffling noises and Jacob rushed back into his room. Out of sight behind the door he tried to catch his breath, then a peek around to see his older sister being marched down the hall towards her own bedroom and fussing up a storm.

In hindsight, Katie never had a chance. Audrey Miller nee Holmberg was the hard-working farm girl of Nordic stock, still wiry strong, and now a fiercely determined parent gripping a recalcitrant daughter's upper arm, dragging her to the fate awaiting her in the bedroom. Katie, for all her struggling, was not raised on a farm, had instead lived a life of leisure, was a mere slender girl digging her bare toes into the carpet, hoping to plant her small feet as if she did not know better than to make things even worse for herself---and Jacob saw the threat held in his mother's left hand. Mrs. Miller had taken the little red paddle from the junk drawer in the kitchen where it must have resided since the oldest Miller boy was at kindergarten. At least Katie was being spared the hairbrush, and that for Jacob was a relief. Everyone feared that brush, but the hard plastic paddle was certainly no picnic when Mom was feeling righteous. The little red paddle was no day at the beach, unless it was one that ends with someone getting the worst sunburn they could imagine. Katie should have been scared of the prospect, but as she was being propelled in a forward direction, Jacob heard only outrage. "You can't do this! I'm too old for this!" Katie yelled, but it was soon after, coming from the direction of the teenager's bedroom, that the tone had changed. From down the hall, words were muffled but clearly outrage had turned in favor of the fear. "Please, Mom! Please don't do this!" There was defeat in that voice. Audrey Miller had already decided, and Jacob knew it too. His big sister was not too big for a good sound spanking.

The sounds of an epic struggle were coming from his sister's room, and Jacob had to decide if he was going to look in to see what was happening. There was nothing stopping him but the enormous risk of getting caught. And then there was his conscience. He could feel the risk as a tingle up and down his spine and all in his middle. His guilt was harder to locate. He crept silently down the hallway to take just a quick peek around Katie's half-open door and... his heart stopped beating. Sis was already in position, struggling face-down over the lap where his mother had rooted herself at the corner of the bed. The sight would be burned into his memory.

It had been many years since he had actually seen his big sister turned over the disciplinary parental knee. It appeared that, whether six or sixteen, the scene did not change. Katie's right arm was pinned behind her back limiting movement but not to prevent the squirming, or the waving of her feet in the air as if they were white flags of surrender seeking amnesty. It was her shorts and underpants abandoned in a pile below her toes that looked as if they had given in, and her little brother was then all the more certain that he should not be where he was standing. Katie Miller was no longer a skinny child; now raised high for Mom's angry paddle were two plump bare cheeks of a nubile behind, rounded, upturned, a target the color of morning sunshine and fresh cream, and Jacob knew for sure those bare cheeks would not be pale for long. He watched in terrible awe as his mother raised her right arm and then brought the little red paddle down with a razor-sharp snap low on Katie's right buttock, thankfully not the meaty whack of the hairbrush, yet the higher pitched crack of thin hard plastic on flesh that startled the frozen boy.

Katie was no less shocked. She squawked as if stung by a wasp the size of a robin. Lightning quick was a second flash of red and his sister had a matching paddle spank on her left cheek to complain about, and complain she did. "Mom!" was a screech to the heavens, the teenager frantic as her mother simply proceeded to administer the penalty.

Applying sharp lick after sizzling swat, one on top of another, right where she had targeted the first two, punishing without a pause for Katie to even catch her breath, it was clear that Audrey Miller was dedicated to giving her daughter something to fuss about. Focused discipline, snap-crack-pop, flat hard judgment applied to delicate surface, and Jacob's blood was pounding in his head. There was just something about seeing a bare-bottomed spanking that caused a chemical reaction. As Katie kicked harder, Jacob pulled back from the doorway.

He had seen too much, and he was concerned about being spotted. Jacob Alan Miller knew he was being a very bad boy to spy on his big sister's almost naked punishment. Confused, it was a jolt to see that Katie was no longer a child, yet still being corrected over her mother's knee. Paddled. Spanked. From behind the door he stood perfectly still listening rapt to the relentless beat. He was the only other person at home, and maybe the neighbors would not hear what was happening. You could not listen to the hollering and think anything but that the little red devil being applied to that fair fanny must be fire, and that this mother was in no charitable mood after having been told by her daughter to go fuck herself. Jacob was feeling pity for his now not-so-big sister.

"You - will never - ever - talk - to me - like that - again!" The crack of the paddle served as punctuation for Mrs. Miller's scolding, and Jacob was not sure what to do. There was a narrow gap where the door was hinged to the frame, and through that crack he was able to see into the bedroom again, and there was his big sister, he could barely believe, with a shiny apple bottom, face to the carpet and bawlin' like a baby. A strong right leg had been clamped over the back of his sister's knees, so Katie must have tried sliding off the lap where she was now trapped for her lesson. Jacob could not make out much of her babbling, only that Katie was truly sorry and desperate to be spared even one more lick of the firecracker paddle.

This was not a good thing. Jacob looked up to his older sister. They had had their spats for sure, but Katie was cool. She liked cool stuff. At school she was popular and much more independent than her little brother, but none of that mattered now. The rebellious teen had more than met her match, and through the space between the door and its frame, Jacob was receiving the message loud and clear: Mom still ruled at home. Of that fact, his big sister was being reassured in the time-honored fashion. Neither looking nor sounding like a girl sixteen, the words burst from a twisted red face in a big pink bubble. "Pleeease, Mommmmmy!" a little girl cried. 

Katie Miller moved in desperation, in any which way she could, but her raised ruby rear was going nowhere but for a spanking. Jacob joined her in the prayer for an ending. He blocked out the knowledge that she would hate him for what he was seeing, and squinting his eyes, having found the best angle for viewing, he stood witness to his once tough sister's loss of the battle, loss of her voice, rasping in her throat until the little red paddle had finally ceased its scolding.

"What happens to children who act the way you've been acting?"

"I'm sorry," Katie blubbered with a face the wet mess of a wretched five-year-old.

"Take your hand away."

"No! No! No! I'll be good! I promise! I promise!"

Jacob believed his sister. She had managed to get her free hand back to rub, and the frantic edge to her voice was completely convincing. More spanks with that merciless little paddle would be torture, yet Katie obeyed her mother.

"I asked you a question, Madam."

"Mommy, please, they get a spanking."

"I will not raise such a spoiled brat. Is that clear?" 

It was clear. Jacob, in a daze, stood listening to the subsequent lecture, his mother lightly patting with the paddle as Katie, each time twisting to escape the plastic where it touched her blisters, without hesitation, gave all the right answers and with not a glimmer of her recent attitude. Kathleen Margaret Miller, named after her great grandmother, had had enough. She was Mommy's little girl. She had learned her lesson.

His sister was finally allowed to stand. Jacob did not think it funny, yet Katie's bottom looked almost comical, as if the paddle had stamped its perfect oval likeness onto her two sorry spots where he could imagine heat rays radiating from a cartoon sun. There was nothing funny about a hopping high-schooler marched over to the corner.

Poor Katie. She was a rebel in disgrace. Her brother was relieved the spanking was over. Oddly light-headed, his legs trembling, Jacob Miller was still feeling sorry for his big sister when he should have been rushing stealth-like back to his room thankful he had not been caught lurking. The mistake struck him as a bolt of lightning in the form of a voice belonging to his mother, inviting him to come on in, take off his pants and join the party. It was an invitation he could not refuse.

4 comments:

  1. Aunty Andrea, you are cruel, Allowing this to take place, here is a baby brother being invited to take big sisters place and he stops the story. Mommy would have flayed the skin from my butt for this, I know, I heard what she did to Grant for peeping at me while she had me locked on her lap. He never peeped again and I was too scared to peep again after that episode.
    A lovely story.
    Mario

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  2. Bravo readers another just wonderful and amazing story of an awakening! Thank you hope more to come, love these.

    Be well
    Ron

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  3. Love the story. Thank you Aunty Andrea for sharing it with us.

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  4. I'm sure Brett appreciates your comments. I thought it was both well written and brave of him to share this with us.

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