Then and Now
by Anonymous
PART I Then - 1964
Growing up in a small Ohio town, Billy Andrews accepted the beliefs and practices which his parents observed. Children were to be seen, not heard, and behavior was expected to be “good” in the early 1960s, which meant that thoughts and behaviors should be pure, and any straying from the straight and narrow path was to be dealt with as the Bible supposedly dictated: “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” Not that there was really a “rod” anywhere around, but spankings occurred, now and then, and most often they were delivered with a special paddle which hung on the kitchen wall.
So Billy knew, as he walked home from Susie’s house, that a spanking might be in his future. If she actually told. And she said she was going to tell!
At 11, Billy had a normal boy’s curiosity about girls, but in 1964, there was no simple way to satisfy it. Kids talked at school, but their information was not necessarily reliable. There were no books in his home, or in the school library to show what a girl really looked like, you know, “down there.” And Susie was the subject of rumor; other boys said she was willing to show you “hers” if you would show her “yours.” So that’s what he proposed when they were together in her room, and it seemed as if everything would go just as he had hoped, until...
Well, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t had happen before, but nobody else had seen him that way, and maybe she didn’t know that little boys had that happen all the time, sometimes even when they were asleep. As she was pulling down her panties for him to get a better look, he was pulling down his jockey shorts, and then it happened, and she gasped and told him she would tell her mother...
So now he was on his way home, and he had to wonder if she really would tell her mother, and if her mother would tell his mother, and then... But the minute he was in sight of his house, he knew. His mother was standing there, on the lawn. And the paddle was in her hand.
“William Brewster Andrews!” she shouted. She only used his full name when a spanking was in store. “William!” Come over here. And get those pants down right now!”
Now? Here? In the yard, where other people could see?
“Susie’s mother told me about the dirty things you two were doing. You are in big trouble, young man. See, I’m sure she told other mothers about you, and soon the whole town will know, and I want to be sure everybody knows that I raise my children right. Nasty, naughty little boys need to be spanked. I want to be sure everyone understands that we are not the kind of family that accepts behavior like yours. Get over here!”
Billy slowly dragged his feet as he shuffled across the lawn, nervously eyeing that paddle from the kitchen. He was trying to find something to say to prevent her from following up what she had promised when, before he knew it, she had grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked down both his pants and his shorts, leaving his legs imprisoned and his bottom fully exposed. Then, in a second, he felt grasp him around his chest and hold him to her. Then sting of the paddle exploded on his bottom, first on the right side and then on the left, and then a steady rhythm of spanks to both cheeks as he stood there, trying to keep from dancing helplessly about as the spanks rained down.
Try as he may, he could not avoid the paddle, nor could he avoid, as the spanking went on, howling a little and pleading with his mother to stop. In between howls, as he gasped for air, he thought he could hear giggles coming from neighboring lawns, and he knew he was being watched, his his bottom exposed as it turned red and, if he danced around to much, his private parts exposed as well! He decided it was better that he stand still, and take the spanking, rather than have the neighbors get a more intimate view of his nakedness. And soon after he stood still and accepted his spanking, his mother finally did calm down and allow him to pull up his trousers.
“Now, go to your room,” she said. “When your father gets home, he may decide that another spanking is in order. We’ll see. By the way, you ought to know that Susie is being spanked, too, according to her mother. Naughty children get the red bottoms they deserve, in this town, and don’t you forget it!”
Billy went up to his room, dreading his father’s return. His father used a belt, and Billy could only hope that his father, seeing how well-spanked Billy already was, would consider that he had been punished enough. Billy slid his pants down and looked into the mirror to observe the effect of his spanking, when the phone rang. When his mother didn’t pick up the phone, Billy figured she was already talking with the neighbors about what they had seen, and why it happened, so Billy picked up the receiver.
It was Susie. He guessed that her mother, too, was out of the house after her arm had been exercised on her daughter’s backside.
“Did you get spanked?” Susie said, breathlessly, “I got it good!”
“Yeah,” Billy admitted. “With a paddle. In the front yard. Boy, is my bottom sore and red!”
“Mine, too” Susie giggled. “You ought to see it!”
Billy felt a swelling start in his crotch. Even having just been spanked for such behavior, he still felt the urge. “I’d really like to! Can we meet in the playhouse on in back of your place?”
There was a pause. And then Susie said, with a sly catch in her throat, “Well... I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
And she did, and he did, and even though this was not the last spanking young Billy received, it was the one that haunted him - the sight of little Susie’s bare, red bottom, and his own, fixed in his mind for the rest of his life, especially in the years far in the future when spankings would again be a regular part of his life.
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PART II Now: 2009
William Andrews sat in his office, staring at the computer screen. As bank manager of the Southern Pennsylvania and Northern Kentucky, he had little to worry about financially. His marriage of 30 years was secure, and his children were on their own paths to success. He was a respected member of his community and his church and a member of the local school board.
And all of that could come crashing down any time if he kept on with his secret behaviors.
Yet once again, here he was, making an appointment with Ms. Domina Starr, for a sound thrashing at 1 p.m., during his supposed lunchtime conference.
It all began about 20 years ago, when he had reached a plateau in his career and in his marriage. Life was good; nothing was really troubling him... except for the fantasies he so often had by day and the dreams he had by night that he could not share with anyone. For whom could he possibly tell about his teenage wet dreams, in which he was being bare-bottom spanked across a strange woman’s lap, or his adult fantasies, involving the humiliation of being stripped and mocked, while naked, and then put over the arm of a sofa and being hairbrush-spanked? He didn’t understand why these fantasies aroused him but they did, and they were always there, lurking in the shadows of his mind. They never abandoned him, and they were never far from his thoughts all day long, often interfering with his work when he needed to avoid standing up at his desk because his day-dreams, right there in the office, had given him an obvious erection.
And so it was that, when he had become computer-savvy enough to begin surfing the web, he discovered that there were not only many other people who had the same dreams and fantasies but professional dominatrixes in his own city, ready to provide a service that, he felt, he needed to experience at least once. Yes, maybe just once, and then it would all be resolved.
So he had left the office back then to use an outside pay phone, dialed a number from the internet site of “Miss Nancy,” and made an appointment to see her. He didn’t use his own name, of course; it was as “Jim” that he went to the small apartment 20 minutes away from his office, and explained, after a good deal of hemming and hawing and embarrassed disclaimer that this was really about him instead of a “friend” who had asked him to look into the subject, that, yes, he wanted to try the experiment of being spanked. With some input from Ms Nancy, (who had heard variations on this scenario many times before and knew exactly how to deal with it), he agreed that he wanted to pretend to be a teenager, and to be spanked on his bare bottom, with a hairbrush, over her knee.
Miss Nancy had him stand before her, hands at his side, while she lectured him about how naughty teens were no different from naughty little children, and how adults who had the same thoughts were just naughty teenagers with grown-up bodies. If they felt they were naughty, they needed to be treated the same way, and that meant good, old-fashioned spankings, over the knee, except that a hand-spanking wasn’t severe enough to really make an impression, so she preferred to use a good, solid wooden hairbrush on the bared buttocks of the men she spanked. “Now,” she ordered him, get those pants down, and get over my knees, and get the spanking you know you deserve.”
William Brewster Andrews, now Billy Andrews once again, did as he was told: he nervously unbuckled his belt and then unbuttoned and lowered his pants. He could not quite bring himself to lower his shorts; it had been far too long since a strange woman had seen his penis, and he was aware that it was rising swiftly, so he threw himself across Miss Nancy’s lap. “I’m afraid you did not quite follow my directions,” she said, “and that failure will cost you an extra minute over my knee!” She pulled his shorts down, positioned him so his bottom was raised, and then applied that flat side of the hairbrush with a resounding SMACK! to his left buttock. Oh, God, that stung, he thought, but before he could even catch his breath he felt another SMACK! on the right buttock. Then it was SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!, over and over, left and right, and right across the crack, covering his entire bottom until he could not help but yell out and beg her to stop.
But, of course, she did not stop, not for a long time. Not until tears had begun to leak from his eyes, and his behind was a solid, red, burning surface where any more blows would have caused bruises, something he had been careful to warn against.
That had been over two decades ago, decades during which he had become acquainted with other women who provided similar services, during which he had become familiar with the varied effects to be provided by hand, paddle, belt, riding crop, or cane, by being tied up, or strapped to a bed or an upright frame. He had suffered various indignities, from mouth-soaping to an enema. But it always came back to the same fantasy, and the same desire: to lie over a woman’s knee, feeling his bare bottom turned to fire from the application of a solid wooden implement applied with vigor until his buttocks were a solid red color.
So now, he felt the need again. And he would make the telephone call again, and arrange a clandestine appointment for a spanking, and wonder, as he arranged it, and as he drove to the apartment, and as he disrobed, and even as he lay there being paddled: what if somebody else found out? What would happen? How could he explain it?
It didn’t seem to matter any more. Every since that day, long ago, when his mother spanked him in the yard, and he and Susie compared the damage to their spanked bottoms, this was what he wanted, and needed, and would always seek.
