"The Old Lady From Church and the Girl She Raises"
Once upon a time there was this old lady from church and this girl she was raising. Actually, the girl was her granddaughter, but she had raised her since she was a baby. Supposedly her own daughter had gotten into drugs and ended up having a child, the whole thing was a bit scandalous, therefore it was never talked about at church. But all I knew was there was this old lady and this awkward girl and apparently there were mother and daughter, daughter and mother. She was much too old to actually have any children that girl's age, since she was 13 and the lady must have been in her 70's. This was unique though, I always thought for the in a bad way. You see, that girl was in our church youth group and she was always kind of annoying, simply because she was a bit socially awkward. She was loud at inappropriate times, never seemed to get our humor, tried to hard to be friendly at times while coming off as mean at other times. I felt bad for her because I'm sure it was because she was a little on the sheltered side, being raised alone by this old lady, who by all my memories, was awkward herself. She was very conservative, not really connected very much to the secular world and not caring to be, and a bit on the serious side (and "a bit" is being generous). She wasn't exactly mean or cranky, just serious. I don't think I ever saw her laugh, though she did smile a lot. Anyway, the thing I remember most about this odd family was the time I saw her give her 13 year old daughter a spanking. I always loved hearing different moms at church mention the word spanking, though it was rare to get anything more than a mention. And mostly it had to do with "bad boys" and how they needed a spanking, not something I cared about hearing. In fact, for the longest time I figured girls didn't even get spanked at all! But if any girl was probably on the receiving end of a spanking, it was this girl. Anna was her name. I remember various occasions when that old lady would glance at Anna, raising an eyebrow, scolding her with "Anna…" but nothing more was said. Anna shaped up immediately, it seemed. I do remember her saying "I'm going to count to three," but Anna shaped up at like 1.5 seconds so I never got to see what happened. I also remember Anna mentioning that if she disobeyed and watched a rated R movie she would get in trouble. So clearly she did get in trouble (breaking the stereotype of the grandparents who spoil their kids). But finally I realized something. Anna and her mom/grandma lived in a house with lots and lots of windows. I was never one to be a peeping Tom, but at the same time, if I was ever going to start being one, their house was going to be where I got my start. So that is exactly what I did, for about a week straight. I had a baseball, so just in case they spotted me, I could pretend to be looking for it. My excuse for being in their yard, which was a few streets away, was that I happened to have a friend next door to them (which I did, but he had no idea what I was doing). But for that week I watched intently. They were more awkward at home then at church. I won't go into the activities they engaged in from day to day, but I'll just say it was not exactly modern. In fact, their TV was probably from the 60's. I could hear pretty well inside, so I knew if something did happen, I would be able to both hear and see, if it happened to occur in the living room. By the weeks end, I figured my mission was a dud, until I overheard the mom/grandma scolding Anna. "Anna, what did I ask you to do?" "Mom, I am gonna clean up my room later, okay." "Anna…" "What?!" Anna replied, sounding a bit sassy, something I knew could lead to something. "Anna, when I ask you to do something, you need to obey. Do not be sassy with me." "I'm not." Now, I may be tone deaf, because, to be honest, Anna sounded like she was being totally reasonable, but apparently she was being sassy. "Anna, I'm warning you. If you don't stop the sassy talk and go clean up your room you are going to be disciplined." There it was, the word discipline. At this point, I figured I would get some sort of insight into how she handled discipline in that family. I figured that she would ground Anna from her dolls (yes, she was 13 and still played with them) or some weird thing, but come on, spanking a 13 year old? I figured it was wishful thinking. I figured Anna would turn obey, as she tended to do at church. But instead, Anna rolled her eyes and just stood there. "Anna…" Her mom paused. Anna just stood silently. It was getting tense and I was getting excited. "Okay then. I guess we need to have a discipline session." Discipline session? Now things were starting to get interesting. "No mom! Please! Okay, I'll go clean my dumb room!" "No, Anna. Your attitude is unacceptable, and not obeying immediately is disobedience, we have gone over this. And you know what I need to do as your parent when you disobey. So let's go." The old lady grabbed Anna's hand gently and guided her down the hallway into the living room. Things couldn't have been more perfect because I had a full view of the room they headed into. Anna was frowning and looked clearly upset as they walked to the room. Her mom sat down on a chair and began lecturing her. I don't remember the exact words, I do recall a number of Bible verse references and things about obedience. For a second, I thought that maybe discipline session meant a long lecture. How boring would that have been! But then it happened! She finished wrapping up her speech, paused and looked at Anna, then said "Okay Anna, bend over…" Anna started crying as her mom/grandma guided her over her lap. I couldn't believe it! I had seen little kids (those "bad boys") get spanked over the knee before, but this was a 13 year old girl getting bent over this old lady's lap! I stared intently at how awkward the situation was, a 13 year old girl bent over her elderly mother's lap, with her big butt sticking up in the air, about to get a spanking! What I failed to realize until a few seconds after it happened, due to being so stunned at the fact that Anna was about to get an over the knee spanking, was that her mom/grandma lifted up her dress and pulled down her panties. I realized what I was staring at was Anna's bare butt and I felt both excited and a bit grossed out at seeing Anna's bare butt (had she been the hot girl from school I had my eye on it would have been a much different story!). But I didn't care. I wanted to see this! I had never seen a girl's bare butt before, actually, so my initial gross out turned into that male curiosity that drives us to remember such things. I just remember how big her butt was and how awkward she looked. Then my daze was interrupted at Anna screaming "No, mommy, please!" "Anna, you have been disobedient and are getting a spanking, so here it comes, I want you to be still during the spanking or I am going to start over." Anna, crying already, replied with "Okay…" "Ready…" I certainly was. Then it began. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! Anna started screaming as her mom/grandma spanked her butt with her hand. I was surprised at how little pain tolerance she had for a 13 year old. But then again, she was kind of a weird girl. It kept going SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! I heard Anna yelling "Mmmmmoooooommmmmyyyyy! It HURTS!" SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended. Anna was still screaming and crying and her mom/grandma let her lay across her lap for about 30 seconds before lifting her up. Anna pulled her panties up and started rubbing her butt. Then the awkwardness got more awkard as the old lady started praying with her daughter, about how her daughter was being disobedient and for God to help her be more obedient in the future. She ended with "amen" and Anna started to calm down. "Now, Anna, you need to obey me when I ask you to do something. As your mother, I have the authority to raise and discipline you. So when you act the way you did, it is my job to give you a spanking like I did to discipline you. I hope I don't have to discipline you any more but that is up to you. The next time you act like this expect to get another spanking. Understand?" "Yes…" Anna said. "Okay. Now go clean up your room please." I figured I had pushed my luck enough so I ran back home, full of adrenaline from the spectacle I had just witnessed.
"Scary Good"
Growing up, I remember having a very happy childhood. It wasn't stereotypical happy, where my mother and father were always around me 24/7 and we went to amusement parks every weekend, but I felt I had a normal childhood, therefore, by definition, a happy one. With so many people going through such awful upbringings, I could never say anything ill of my own. Sure, my father worked a ton, a little too much if you ask me, but he would always try to make it up for me and my sisters when he was around. And my mom, well, my mom I would call a wonderful mom most of the time. The one time when I thought she turned into a scary monster was when it came to discipline. Now, let me explain that when I say monster I don't mean she was abusive or mean or anything like that. What I mean is, when I was a child, my mom was scary when it came to discipline. Like many moms of the 70's, her preferred method of discipline was the spanking. I could go even further to say that it wasn't her that was scary, it was her spankings. Her spankings were something you would want to prepare for mentally, as they hurt immensely and were psychologically intense. Obviously though, I turned out great so she was doing everything in her power to ensure my future was a bright one. I'll have to admit, she did a good job raising me. Perhaps it was her scary spankings… no, certainly it was her scary spankings that kept me from doing bad things (most of the time) and made a good girl (most of the time). My mother was always a cheerful woman, a little happy go lucky, but she definitely had an edge to her, like the time she yelled at the clerk in the shopping market because he overcharged her. But when thinking about my mom, it seems to always come back to the dreaded spanking she would give if one of us misbehaved. I remember one such occasion. Usually, if we would disobey, my mom would announce that a spanking was imminent and would send us to our room. Once in our room we would concentrated and try to calm ourselves, knowing that we would have to endure a good 30 seconds of intense pain followed by several minutes of soreness. My mom always used this wooden hairbrush, we just called it "the brush." If my mom would say "do I need to get the brush," that meant that we had one last chance before she would say "you are getting a spanking." If she ever said that, it was a pulse pounding moment followed by the worst scenario for a child in our household- bent over our mother's lap, bare bottom in the air, with the brush crashing down repeatedly. Back to my memory. I remember it was a summer day, peaceful and generally palatable. I was trying to find something to do between playing dolls with my older sister and going to my friends house later that day. I was walking through the kitchen to head outside when I heard my mom yell to me, "And just where are you going young lady?" I turned around, confused. I was trying to figure out what had put my mother in such a sour mood. "What, mom?" I asked. "Didn't I tell you to include your little sister when you play dolls?" I was a bit perplexed, hearing this, but as I looked over into the next room, I saw my younger sister who had been crying. As a matter of fact, my sister and I had routinely blocked my younger sister's requests to play with us. At times we were just being mean, but today we simply didn't know she wanted to play. But it was too late. She had told my mother and now my mother assumed that once again, we were being mean and not including her. "I'm sorry mom. I didn't know she wanted to play." I figured that would be enough, as it was the last time I was confronted with this issue. But then my mother replied, angrily rather than in an understanding tone, "I have had enough of your excuses! I told you several times to let your sister play with you and you continually ignore her and me!" I sensed that my mother was truly upset. Then I noticed it. She was holding the brush. My stomach dropped as I immediately knew what was in store. "No mommy! I'm sorry!" I started crying, begging my mom to reconsider. My mom took me by the arm and pulled out a chair, sitting down. I realized at that moment that I would not get the few minute preparation I was so accustomed to, that my spanking was happening now. This made my heart skip with fear and anticipation. My mom pulled my shorts down, all the way to my ankles. I hated the feeling of being undressed before a spanking, both because I felt embarrassed, but also because I knew how much it hurt for the brush to spank bare skin. My mom then pulled my panties down and bent me over her knee. We always were very cooperative when my mom would bend us over her knee, since we knew that being uncooperative would only result in a more painful spanking. As a result, my mom always had us in a perfect and orderly spanking position, sort of the antithesis of what was going on in our heads. Right there in the kitchen I layed submissively, waiting for my mother to give me my spanking. I realized that my little sister was still watching, but to my horror, realized my friend was on her way over. What if she came when I was getting a spanking? My mom was not much of a speechmaker. "Okay, be still…" My mother simply said as she raised the brush into the air. As she did this, I heard footsteps outside and a knock at the door. My mother ignored this, or maybe honestly didn't hear. But I heard and knew my friend was outside. Then SMACK, the brush landed on my bottom. A super sharp stinging sensation pulsed on my area where my bottom had just been spanked. I screamed, reacting to the pain of the initial spank, always the worst, until the next spank that is. SMACK, a second spank came quickly after. The next 30 seconds was a blur, like usual, as my mother delivered about 10 smacks with the hairbrush. I knew not to thrash around, so I screamed in pain and tried to endure the spanking. At this point I didn't care that my friend was outside, I just wanted it to end. Looking back, I don’t think my mom knew how much the brush hurt. I'm sure her own mother spanked her the exact same way, but maybe she forgot how painful it was. It was torture for us. But it was always over pretty quickly. I didn't even realized it, but my mother had stopped spanking me and was already pulling my panties and shorts back up. I cried and rubbed my bottom. Then there was another knock at the door. I then remember my friend was outside and the embarrassment intensified. "Let me get the door." My mother said, to my horror. I heard her answer the door. All I remember next was her saying "Oh, no she can't play right now. She just got a spanking and she is going to sit in her room for a little while, okay?" I heard the door short and my mother telling me "go to your room for a while." As I walked to my room sobbing, I saw my mom head into my sisters room and close the door. I heard my sister screaming "No mommy! What did I do?!" About a minute later, I heard the smack of the hairbrush and the screams of my older sister. This is how I knew what I sounded like, from listening to my sister. I'm sure we were similar when we got spanked. That's how I also know that there was method to my mother's madness. We both turned out good, after all.
“Raising Up a Teenage Daughter”
By the summer of 1982, Edith Hollinsworth had entrenched herself deep in many social circles. She was the head of the parent teacher association at the local school, Sunday school teacher and Bible study leader at the local Baptist church, daily patron to the local grocery store, babysitter to the local neighborhood children (though most mothers in the neighborhood swore by her talents in childcare, few were as social as Edith, therefore didn’t have the need for a babysitter). But most of all, Edith Hollinsworth was mother of the local Hollinsworth children, of which there were five. Four of which, Bobby, Isaac, Thomas, and Jonathan, had all graduated high school and were becoming model citizens in their small town. The fifth child, Emily, was a freshman in high school, the popular girl, like her mother, and probably to become a model citizen like her brothers… if it weren’t for her knack for pushing the boundaries and disobeying authority. Emily was a rebel by no means, she just seemed to make the foolish decision on occasion. One such occasion, in the summer of 1982, became famous (for the bragging her mother would do the next day at the Bible study, then day after at the parent teacher association meeting, then at the grocery store daily, and just about every other occasion when the topic came up). You see, Edith Hollinsworth had taught her daughter Emily a lesson, the old fashioned way, strengthening the good old morals of their town one child at a time. That day, Edith was busy preparing an arts and class lesson for Sunday school, when Emily walked up to her mother. “Mom…” “Yes Emily?” Edith said, looking up from her project. “Can I go over to the pool? Some of my friends are meeting there and I want to be there.” Edith, naturally in charge of all comings and goings in the house, thought a moment, then replied, “No, Emily. Remember, you have that school report due tomorrow and I want that done before you do anything else. You understand?” “But mom!” “No buts!” Edith exclaimed. Emily sulked and walked off in a pout. Edith went back to her crafting, thinking nothing of the very minor skirmish. “Darn,” Edith mumbled. Edith had forgotten to purchase the glitter for the project, as well as extra glue. Edith grabbed her purse and her keys and headed towards the door. “Emily?” Edith yelled. “Yes?” Emily returned, from her room. “I am going out to the store to buy some things. I am not sure how long I will be.” “Which store?” “I think I am going to try that new arts store down the way. But I want you to keep working on that report.” Edith walked out, into her car, then drove away. Not two minutes after Edith had left, Emily lept into action, putting on her shoes and running outside, heading towards the public pool where her friends would be. Meanwhile, Edith drove out a good half hour, to the new store she wanted to try out. And try out she did, finding just what she needed, though maybe not as quick as she would of liked. The more time passed, as Edith shopped and Emily hung out, chatting and laughing near the pool, showing off her new shorts and trading quips about boys with her friends. Finally, she turned to her friends and said “Hey, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be doing homework. And I need to be home when my mom gets home. You know my mom!” Her friends thought nothing of it, knowing how moms are, and Emily ran off home. Content that she had successfully disobeyed, she went to her room and continued the intro to her report. Though Edith was not yet home, Edith was crafty. Instead of the usual route, Edith decided, on a hunch, to drive by the pool. With her commanding personality, she approached Emily’s friends. “By any chance, was Emily here today?” Her friends nodded, trying to cover for her. “Are you sure? I don’t want any of you lying to me, you hear? I’m sure your parents wouldn’t like to hear about lying children.” The weakest of the group broke, timid of Edith Hollinsworth’s strict way. “Actually, Emily was here for a little bit. But she said she is doing homework now.” “Uh huh. Thank you!” Edith headed back into her car, upset but also arrogant at catching a disobedient daughter. “Mrs. Hollinsworth?” The timid child called out. “Yes?” “Is Emily in trouble?” “Oh yes. She disobeyed me.” “Are you going to do anything?” “You know what happens to disobedient children? Emily is going to be disciplined, that is for sure.” All the children were silent. “And you had better hope I don’t tell your parents that you tried to lie to me. I know you are Emily’s friend, but she needs to obey her mother. Now she will have to face the consequences!” One of the older children asked “How long will Emily be grounded for?” Edith was caught off guard, just a little. “I don’t believe in that grounding stuff that some of the younger parents are starting to do. I am old fashioned. When one of my children disobey, the punishment is spanking on their bottom with my trusty paddle.” Edith slammed her car door and drove off, towards her house The boys tried to hide their giddiness at the thought of pretty Emily getting spanked by her mother in her new shorts. It was only minutes until Edith arrived at home. She carried in her supplies she had purchased, then walked into the living room. “Emily, how is the school work coming along?” “Good mom! I’ve been working on it, its pretty tough, but I think it will turn out good.” “Uh huh. Emily, do you want to come here a moment please?” There was no sound for a moment, then Emily emerged. “Yes mother?” “Emily, were you here the whole time?” Emily tried to act surprised. “Yes, of course.” “Are you lying to me?” “No, of course not.” Edith stared into Emily’s eyes. Emily was clearly nervous. “I drove by the pool on the way home. Your friends said you were down there.” Emily’s stomach dropped. “Mom…” “Emily, you disobeyed me and you lied to me. You know what the Bible says about both of those things. Children need to obey their parents, and lying is one of the ten commandments.” “I’m sorry mom. But it was only for a little bit! I just wanted to say hi!” “But you still disobeyed me, and on top of that you tried to lie about it.” Emily put her head down, defeated. “Sorry mom, I won’t do it again.” “Well I hope not. But there needs to be consequences.” “I know. I’m really sorry mom. I’ll go finish my homework, I promise.” “Emily, you disobeyed and lied, and there need to be consequences. What do you think should happen now?” Emily didn’t answer, finally simply said “I don’t know.” “Well, I think I’m going to have to spank you. I know you haven’t had a spanking in a while, but there need to be consequences for your actions and you know the rules of this house.” “No mom! I’m sorry!” “I know you think you are a big girl and can do what you want when you please and don’t have to respect my rules, but you are still my daughter and it is my job to raise you up in the Lord to be a respectable young lady. And the Bible makes it clear that parents are to use the rod of correction with wayward children, no matter their age. I know you think you are too old for correction, but you clearly are still making childish decisions. Because of your actions today, you are going to get a spanking.” Emily tried one last ditch effort to change her mother’s mind. “Mom! Come on! How about I don’t go to any friends houses for the whole week! I’ll make up for it! Spanking is for kids!” “I know about fifty other mothers would would disagree. And besides, I have my ways, and your brothers turned out fine. No, what is going to happen is you are going to get a good spanking, then you are going to finish up your report.” Emily finally gave up. “Fine.” “Okay. Stay here. I am going to go get the paddle.” “Mom, not the paddle!” Edith walked to her room. Emily’s last spanking was when she was 10 years old. As strict as Edith seemed, she didn’t always spank for everything. But this was a textbook spanking scenario and she could not resist her old fashioned ways. Edith dug up the paddle in her closet, a soon to be relic of the Hollinsworth family, then marched back to the living room. Grabbing a chair, Edith sat down and motioned Emily towards her. “Do you remember the last time I had to give you a spanking, Emily?” Emily shook her head no. “I think you were 10. You said something very sassy to me. I gave you a spanking with the paddle and you cried like a baby.” Emily seemed a bit confused why she was being told this. “Well its about to happen again, today. When I spank, I make it hurt. Ask your brothers. So don’t be ashamed to cry, okay.” I’m not gonna cry, mom…” “We’ll see. Now come here.” Emily walked towards Edith, who was sitting on the chair, with the paddle on her lap. “I don’t want to have to do this, but it is a mother’s duty to discipline her children when they do bad things, like disobey and lie. This paddle is a symbol of my authority as your mother, and the symbol of correction and discipline. Mothers have been spanking their children's bottoms for centuries and it has been plenty good for them. I thought you were all done with spankings, but it looks like your bottom needs one last good spanking with the paddle.” Emily sighed, already getting a bit nervous at her mother’s odd attempt at dramatics. “Okay Emily. Pull down your pants and assume the position.” “My pants? What?” Emily said. “You aren’t ten years old anymore. I told you I was going to make it hurt. So pull down your pants and underwear and bend over my knee.” “Mom! Can’t I just like turn around and you can spank me?” “That’s not how we do it, you know that! I’ve always spanked you and your brothers over my knee, its the traditional way that spankings are given. Now are you going to pull down your pants or do I need to do it for you?” Emily slid down her shorts and underwear in one motion, embarrassed at the situation. Edith motioned for Emily to bend over her lap. Emily awkwardly bent forward, resting on Edith’s thighs. “Mom I’m too old for this!” “Emily Hollinsworth! You disobeyed me and went to the pool when I told you not to. Then you tried to lie to me about it. Are you sorry?” “Yes mom!” “Okay, good. I am going to give you 10 hard spanks, 5 for disobeying and 5 for lying. Feel free to cry, but don’t try to interfere by putting your hand in the way or anything like that, or we’ll start over. Understand?” “Okay mom…” Emily was very nervous, remembering that every time she had gotten spanked growing up, it was the worst thing every to her. “Okay. This hurts me more than it hurts you, remember…” Like a Pavlovian trigger, Emily started crying. Then, suddenly, SMACK! The paddle landed sharply on Emily’s bottom. Emily yet out a loud yelp. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Emily let out even louder screams. SMACK! SMACK! “Ouch! Stop mommy!” Emily yelled in tears. SMACK! SMACK! Emily put her hands to cover her bottom and slid right off Edith’s lap. Emily lay in a heap, crying. “Emily! You know what I told you! Get back over my knee, we are starting over!” “No! Mom! Please! I’m sorry! It hurts!” Edith watched her daughter bawl on the ground. “Fine. I’ll have a little mercy. We were at 8 spanks. But since you interfered we are going back to five. So five more, Emily. Come on.” Emily crawled back over to her mom, then, with Edith’s help, sprawled back over Edith’s lap. “I know it hurts! I can see your bottom getting red. But let’s finish this so we can be done with it!” Emily kept sobbing. “Stay still this time and keep your hands away. Kick your legs if you need to, you used to do that when you were little. Just take your spanking! Ready?” Edith began again. SMACK! SMACK! Emily screamed again and started kicking her legs wildly. Even at her size, she still seemed like a little kid, bent over her mother’s lap like she was. SMACK! SMACK! SSSSSMMMMAAAACCCCCKKKK! Edith gave an extra firm swat to finish it off. Emily rolled off her lap and began screaming wildly, kicking and rolling around on the ground, rubbing her bottom with her hands. Edith simply watched, from her chair. Several minutes later, Emily had calmed down a bit. Embarrassed, but relieved, Emily pulled her pants back up and went to her room. Edith followed her. Sitting on Emily’s bed, Edith watched her begin to do her homework again. “You see Emily, you weren’t too old for a spanking. You should remember that next time you decide to break my rules like that. I have given dozens and dozens of spankings between you and your brothers, and I hope that was my last. But I won’t hesitate to get the paddle back out if I need to!” “Okay mom.” Emily kept at her work. “You know I love you. I just want what’s best for you. Sometimes tough love is the best love for a child. You are the best daughter in the world, because you are my daughter. You are a Hollinsworth.” Edith walked out and shut the door.
"Red Badge of Discourage"
It was an exciting day for little Kenna. It was badge day at the girl scout club, to which she was a proud member. The badges being awarded today were for sewing, a specialty she had learned from a young age from her mother, Deloris. Something of a disappearing skill, Deloris was one of the old fashioned types (both in tastes and in age, as she was the oldest mom in the junior girl scout troop). Some of the other, younger moms saw Deloris as a bit of an oddity, not sure whether to look up to her “motherly” ways or to scorn her refusal to jump to the future of cell phones, Skype, and tolerance. But Deloris kept to herself during most of the girl scout get-togethers, so the other moms seemed to see her in a more positive light. her daughter Kenna was also a very popular girl in the group, partially because her mother baked the best cookies. But as Deloris and the other moms mingled and let their girls play, Kenna knew the day was about her. It was about her and her doll she had sewn, by hand (under her mother’s guidance). While the other girls had sewn blankets and other simple things, Kenna proudly walked around with her doll, Lacee. Nevermind the fact that none of the girls played with dolls (except her, of course), this was a time to be proud of her creation. And proud she was. Every chance she got, she shoved Lacee into the faces of the other girl scouts, smiling and soaking up the praise. “That’s so cool Kenna!” One girl would say. Or “How did you do that, Kenna?” from another. Finally, it was almost time to get badges and find out who’s creation was the best. As the girls sat in their seats, listening to the scout master, drone on and on about the important of sewing skillets and the bright futures each of these girls would have, Kenna sat anxiously awaiting her name being called to win the prize (a beautiful blue ribbon). Finally, it was time. The Scout leader pulled the blue ribbon from her bag and began the announcement. “And the winner for the best sewing creation…” A pregnant pause was made, apparently for theatrics (though none of the girls cared for theatrics at a moment like this). “This girl made a beautiful doll and deserves the upmost praise!”… Kenna smiled, thinking of where to put that ribbon. “The winner is… Samantha, and her doll Serenity!” Kenna was shocked. She didn’t even realize that Samantha had also made a doll, from studying videos on YouTube. Everyone clapped and Samantha accepted the award. Then each girl scout was called up to get their badge. Kenna had a distaste for the whole ceremony, knowing she had been passed over for the top award. The troop was dismissed, and it was once again time to mingle for the parents and play for the girls. Deloris walked over to Kenna. “Congratulations Kenna. That is a fine looking badge you earned yourself today.” Kenna was sulking. “What is wrong, my dear?” “Mom, my doll was the best!” “Clearly the judges thought otherwise. You made a good doll Kenna, but not the best. I guess you’ll have to work harder next time.” Kenna was upset, vowing to herself never to sew again. Time passed as the children played. Then, Kenna spotted her chance. Serenity had been left alone, next to Samantha’s backpack. Kenna snatched the doll, found a nice tree and buried the doll next to the tree, smiling the entire time. She figured she had gotten away with the heinous act. But a short time later, Samantha was distraught. “Where is my doll? Has anyone seen it?” Children and parents alike began to gather around. “Let’s all look for it!” The Scout leader ordered. Everyone spread out and began to look, except Kenna. “Kenna, why aren’t you helping?” Deloris asked her daughter. “I don’t know. Its just a stupid doll.” “Kenna, don’t say things like that. Now help look!” Kenna let out a sigh and began to pretend to look. Then, finally working up the accusational courage, one of Kenna’s peers walked up and asked her, “Did you hide her doll? I saw you looking at it and pick it up. Where did you put it?” Deloris overheard this accusation and walked over. “No.” “I saw you!” Kenna stomped her foot. “No I didn’t! You’re stupid!” “Kenna!” Deloris marched up. She looked over at the accuser. “You saw Kenna take the doll?” “Uh huh.” More parents and children began to listen in. “Kenna, is this true?” “No!” Kenna yelled. “Kenna, if you are lying to me and you did take that doll, I am pulling down your pants and spanking you!” There was an uncomfortable air among the other parents and kids now. “Mom! I didn’t!” Deloris gave a stern look. Suddenly, another girl ran up, holding a dirty doll. “I found Serenity! It was buried by that tree!” All eyes were on Kenna and Deloris. “Kenna… did you do this?” Kenna started to cry. “Mom! I’m sorry! I…” “Let’s go!” Deloris grabbed Kenna’s arm and marched her inside the clubhouse. Scanning the room, she spotted a large beanbag chair in the corner. “Mommy! Please!” Kenna screamed. The few onlookers inside the clubhouse turned to witness the coming spectacle. Deloris sat down on the beanbag char and spread her legs apart, in preparation. “Mommy, please don’t give me a spanking! I don’t want a spanking!” “I told you that if you were lying you were going to get spanked! Now bend over!” “No mommy!” “Kenna, come here!” Deloris reached out and grabbed Kenna, taking her over her knee. She quickly pulled Kenna’s pants and underwear down, then slid her skirt down, exposing her bare bottom to the whole room. “Noooooo… please….” Kenna cried out one last time. Her cries were drowned out by a steady series of spankings, with SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, making a morbid soundtrack to the afternoon’s festivities. Young moms watched as old fashioned Deloris demonstrated the proper way to give an old fashioned spanking, calmly but firmly delivering spank after spank on her daughter’s bare behind, as her daughter sat draped over her knee in submission to the punishment. Nobody interfered or said anything, still surprised what was happening. Do parents still spank? Who spanks their child? Who spanks their child like that in front of everyone! The answer was simple. Deloris. She’ll never get a badge for discipline, nor will she win blue ribbon for mom of the year (at least in that troop). But there will be less dolls being buried amongst the lawn of that civic center, that much was sure. As Deloris finished up, giving a final, extra hard slap, Kenna squealed and cried, sobbing and trying her best to apologize. Deloris pulled her daughter’s pants and skirt back up neatly, like she was an expert. Standing up, she held her daughter’s hand and said “Let’s go home.” She marched out with her daughter and got into her car and drove away. Samantha stood with her friends, giggling. “Did you see Kenna! Her mommy gave her a spanking!” Another girl added “She is such a baby!” Voices kept chiming in. “She was crying!” “That looked like it hurt though!” “My mom used to give me a spanking when I was bad! But not in a long time!” “Her mom is weird!” “Kenna was acting so annoying!” The parents stood in their own group. “I can’t believe what Deloris did!” “Hey, I’m all for discipline! I wouldn’t do that, but at least she did something!” “Spanking is horrible! I can’t believe she would do that to her own daughter!” “Hey, I remember when I was little and my mom would spank me! Maybe it will do her good!” “I spanked my daughter when she was young, but I would never do it at their age!” “Should someone call child services?” But among all the murmurs and discussions, time passed. The next girl scout meeting came and things seemed back to normal. Deloris, though, had solidified herself as the thowback, old fashioned mother. If there was a badge for preserving values seen in the 1950’s, they all would have held her down and pinned that badge to her forehead.
"Uberaba"
Past the thick Amazonian jungles of Brazil, lies the relatively small thriving city of Uberaba. Though exotic and far flung, many Americans make their way through the city. Some even settle down, buy up some property, start a family, make a life in the sleepy little city. One such couple was William and Barbara Singleton, elderly missionaries from America who had been ministering to the great and diverse nation of Brazil for decades. Recently, William and Barbara had decided to start a small orphanage, with both the purpose to supply orphaned children with a place to live, as well as raise them up with Biblical principles they would have otherwise missed out on (unless they happened to be children of one of the many, many, many Catholic families living in Brazil…). Enter Edwin, the young boy of 13 years old traveling with his devout parents through South America, visiting churches and orphanages like they were stops on route 66. Edwin was awkward, all his friends back in America new it. To his credit, he knew it as well. He liked girls, but was shy talking to them. So it was a matter of fate when Edwin found himself in the orphanage of William and Barbara. Edwin immediately was introduced to Barbara by his parents. “Edwin, this is Mrs. Barbara… say hello.” Edwin obliged the old lady, wearing a drab dress, long and messy graying hair, thick glasses, and a permanent scowl. Barbara smiled and said “Hello,” to Edwin. The fact that Edwin couldn’t decipher her smile, mixed with the unpleasant tone Barbara had, added to Edwin’s awkwardness. But Edwin was curious nonetheless, to see the goings on in the orphanage. “Bill is over at the church if you want to meet him there. Edwin can stay here and play while you are gone.” Play. Edwin was a little insulted. He was 13, not the age to simply “play.” He doubted they had internet, nevertheless video games or TV. “Come, Edwin, I’ll show you around.” Edwin followed Barbara as she slowly made her way from room to room showing off the fairly nice (given the climate of the city) orphanage they had put together. Young boys and girls darted back and forth from their presence. One girl caught Edwin’s eye. Edwin’s 13 year old eyes caught the gaze of 13 year old Gabriela. “Come, I’ll show you the kitchen,” Barbara said, dragging Edwin away from the pretty Gabriela. As Barbara was showing Edwin the kitchen, a boy walked up to her. “Mrs. Barbara, can I have a cookie? Jose had a cookie so I should have one!” Barbara turned, arms crossed. “He better not have!” “That’s what he said.” Jose ran in the kitchen, yelling “I did not! I was joking!” Barbara turned to Jose. “You better not have. You will be in trouble if you did. Remember, I told you no cookies until after dinner. If you disobey the rules, then you will get a spanking.” Edwin’s attention jumped to high alert. For whatever reason, the thought of Barbara giving a spanking aroused Edwin. Jose shook his head in agreement and ran off. “Anyway, you must look at the silverware Edwin…” … It was some time later that Edwin was free to roam about and “play,” as Barbara had promised. Naturally, Edwin sought out Gabriela. Edwin began to rationalize and realized that Gabriela was Brazilian. She would not be following him back to his friends in America. She might not even know English. He had nothing to be afraid of, so he decided to try out his flirting. “Hola!” Gabriela smiled. “Como estuh… Sorry, I don’t really know Spanish!” Gabriela giggled. “I bet that’s all you speak, huh?” Gabriela smiled. “No! I know English too. We speak Portuguese here though. Spanish too.” Edwin was happy to hear words he understood. “I’m Edwin! You are really pretty!” Edwin realized he had just flirted. He hoped she would not be offended. To his delight, she smiled. “Thank you.” The two talk like… well… 13 year olds for some time. Suddenly, Barbara ruined the fun, relatively. “Gabriela, you need to go do your schoolwork.” “I want to talk to Edwin.” “Now!” Gabriela sighed and walked inside. Edwin was a bit upset, but didn’t dare show it. Barbara walked over to him. “You know,” Barbara said slyly, “it is improper for young boys to be talking to young girls like that. I know what you were doing. We do not allow dating for our children.” “Dating? What on earth are you talking about? That wasn’t dating, just harmless talking.” Edwin wanted to say, but only thought. Instead, he replied, “Okay. Sorry.” Barbara gave a nod and went back inside. Edwin spent the next half hour trying to amuse himself, but wasn’t sure what Brazilians do for fun (though he secretly knew what he wanted to do for “fun,” but knew it wasn’t the time or place for “that.”). However, soon he saw his chance to once again flirt with his dream girl, the one who didn’t know him and barely spoke English. Gabriela walked by outside, seemingly doing a chore of some type. “Hi Gabriela!” Gabriela turned and smiled. “Are you done with your work?” “Oh,” Gabriela stopped, “Well, yes but I am supposed to do my chores and go inside. I am not allowed to talk to you, Mrs. Barbara said.” “Oh, okay. How come?” “She just said no.” Edwin didn’t care for the rule, and figured that once he left things would be back to normal anyway. He commenced to talk to her. “We can just talk for a tiny bit. There’s nothing wrong with that. I like talking to you!” Gabriela walked towards him. “Okay, but we need to go to someplace where she won’t see.” They walk over to the back yard, near some trees. They make small talk once again. Edwin, feeling the eroticism fill him up again, suddenly had Barbara’s image in his head, scowling away. “Is Barbara strict? Seems like it.” Gabriela frowns a bit, “Yes.” “That must be hard.” “Well she is nice and I like her but we just have to follow rules because the Bible says that children must obey. That is what she says.” “Oh okay. Yeah, my parents say that to. Do you always obey?” “Usually. Yeah.” “Have you ever gotten in trouble?” “Yes.” Edwin had to ask. “What happens to you if you get in trouble? What does she do?” Gabriela pauses for a second. “If we get in trouble then we get a spanking.” Edwin feels that rush once again. He motions to his rear, “Really? Like on your butt?” Gabriela giggles. “Yes, on my butt.” Gabriela’s over-enunciation of the word “butt” makes Edwin laugh, though he wasn’t sure why. “Does it hurt?” Gabriela nods. “What do you get spanked with?” “What?” Edwin starts to get nervous, thinking she is on to him. “Oh, uh… I mean, my mom spanked me with a wooden spoon when I was little.” Gabriela thinks for a second. Edwin nervously awaits her response. “A spoon? You get spanked with a spoon?” Gabriela giggles. Edwin realizes that perhaps an American parenting tradition was lost on this native Brazilian. Edwin laughs. “Well, when I was little, yeah. But it was a big one, and made of wood. So it hurt!” Edwin laughs some more, awkwardly. “Oh. I don’t get spanked with a spoon.” “Oh…” Edwin prepares to change the subject. “I get spanked with the paddle. It is wood too. It hurts too.” Edwin was shocked, not expecting the answer, but hoping for it. Edwin shifts the subject away, not wanting to press his luck further. However, little did Edwin know, that minutes later he would have the opportunity to see his fantasy fulfilled soon after its very inception. As they talked, Gabriela forgot about her chore. Barbara approached the two, upset. “Gabriela, what did I tell you? Go inside!” Gabriela rushes away and heads into the home. “I told you, Edwin, it is improper! Please respect our rules!” “I’m sorry, Mrs. Barbara! She wanted to talk to me so I was being polite!” Edwin was nervous about being in trouble. He inadvertently shifted all the blame to poor Gabriela. “I see. Well, I suppose I need to go discipline Gabriela. Thank you for your honesty Edwin.” Edwin had the Tom Sawyer moment, but went the other way with it, opting to have Becky Thatcher take the punishment. Edwin wasn’t satisfied, he wanted to be sure. “What are you going to do?” Edwin asked, scared out of his mind talking to the scowling Barbara. “Well, as the Bible says, he that spares the rod hates his son. I am going to have to spank her, unfortunately.” Barbara walked off. Edwin wanted to follow and watch, but was terrified to. Luckily, Edwin stayed in the back yard and noticed Gabriela sitting by herself in a small studio room near, with a window revealing the room and all events to take place. Edwin got close, but not too close, and prepared for the show. Gabriela sat in the chair, head down. Suddenly, Barbara walked in the room, holding a large wooden paddle, brightly colored brown, with some sort of writing on it. With the window open a crack, Edwin could hear, though barely. Barbara stood, arms crossed with the paddle dangling down. Edwin could make out some lecturing, revolving around obedience. Edwin noticed Barbara say something like “Okay?,” and Gabriela nodded, then stood up. Barbara approached her and motioned with her hand, downward. Edwin was hoping he heard her correctly, “Bare your bottom and put your hands on the chair.” Gabriela turned around and lifted her skirt, sliding her panties down. Edwin almost fainted. Gabriela put her hands on the seat of the chair, head down, tearing up. Barbara walked over and positioned herself next to Gabriela, aiming the paddle by swaying it back and forth a bit. Edwin knew it was time. Barbara reached back and delivered the first swat. A very loud CRACK was heard throughout the property, the fleshy sound of the paddle swatting against Gabriela’s bottom. Gabriela let out a scream. Barbara waited until she had subsided a bit, then gave a second, equally hard swat. Gabriela screamed once again, this time crying. Gabriela put her hands up, rubbing her bottom. “Hands down!” Barbara yelled. “Now you get another swat!” Gabriela put her hands back on the chair. CRACK, a third swat lands on Gabriela’s bare bottom. Gabriela began to cry pretty deeply. Edwin was still fixated. “One more!” Barbara stated, firmly. Barbara aimed the paddle and delivered the final swat. Gabriela immediately stood up and turned around, rubbing her bottom furiously. Edwin gazed at the red bottom, once white, contrasting from her dark Brazilian skin. He had never seen a girl’s bare bottom in person before. Gabriela slid her panties back up and sat down. Barbara approached her and Edwin was trying to figure out what they were saying. He realized they were praying. Edwin, not wanting to evoke the wrath of God any further, decided to return to the front yard, before anyone was the wiser. Soon after, his parents returned. Weeks later and Edwin was back in the states, away from the Amazon, from Gabriela, and from the strict Mrs. Barbara. He was once again in the comfort of his own culture, the comfort of his own home, his own bed. Finally, he could play.