Writing the spanking scene, part 11 "More Happy Tears"

Our story continues in a second volume, also penned by Mr. Little. In part 2 the plot revolves around Eleanor’s desire to make Arthur a disciplinarian HOH, one who will subjugate his own daughter, Hester, to a regime of spankings and corporal punishment for youthful misbehavior. In order to have Hester accept the new regime Eleanor has Betty submit to a sham punishment which Hester overhears–only it is the real thing for Betty.

It was about ten days before the beginning of school, and Eleanor Hadley had finally hit upon a plan which would involve Hester in the subtle and complex web of parental chastisement in such a way that she needs must take compassionate sides. Once having done that, the beautiful brown-haired matron reasoned, precocious and diffident Hester would be so intimately acquainted with the practice that the final and transitional step of making her a victim instead of a mere onlooker or witness would be inevitable.

     “What I’m going to ask, darling, may seem quite unfair, and in advance let me say that you certainly have delighted me with the way you’ve kept out of mischief. But within the next few days, darling, it’s absolutely essential that I find some reason to spank you.”    

  Betty gasped at this and colored deliciously and hung her head, as she began to think about this rather ominous pronunciamento. After a moment, she stammered, “I mean, if you think it will help, sure I’ll deserve one, Mummy. But I don’t exactly know what it’s all about. Could you maybe tell me something about it?”     

 “Of course, darling. Look, you know perfectly well that you’ve taken Hester over to meet the Gilmore children and also Verna and Barbara Carruthers, and Nancy and Sally Jamison. Hester has not only heard about spanking but she’s seen a pretty good one, if what you told me about the way Louise Gilmore punished Janet last week is any sign.”     

 “I thought Hes was going to burst, she sat there staring and she was so pale,” Betty confided.      “I know, pet. And I’m sure she thought that poor Janet’s having to take a hundred and fifty spanks with Louise Gilmore’s little rubber whip was absolutely the last word in torture back from the Middle Ages, didn’t she?”      

“She sure did, Mummy!” Betty giggled. Then, sobering instantly, she hesitantly repeated, “But why do you want me to get spanked, Mummy? How is it going to do anything about Hester?”

Yes, you heard right–150 lashes with a rubber dogwhip. All described in meticulous detail. Anyway, Betty’s mother lays out the idea, but it is Betty who comes up with the plan.
 

“Maybe I could drop a dish or something—”    

  “That’s it!” Eleanor Hadley almost gleefully exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “Uncle Arthur is having his things sent in from Pomona, and they ought to be arriving any day now. Maybe even tomorrow. Yes, that’s exactly the way to do it! If you and Hester happen to be unpacking and you just drop something, and then I come in and scold you and sentence you to a good spanking and take you upstairs and give it to you, after I leave, Hester will probably go upstairs to see you to find out what’s happened. Then you can tell her all about it, and she can see for herself what you look like after I’ve punished you, darling. And if that doesn’t set our precocious young miss to doing some very tall thinking, then my name’s not Eleanor Hadley,” the voluptuous, mature dominatress declared.      “Then I’ll do it, Mummy,” Betty eagerly declared. “Hes is missing so much by keeping herself away from all of us. I know Janet and Barbara would just love to get to know her better, but Hes considers them all kids, and of course you know how she feels about their being spanked. She thinks that all the parents are just monsters, I guess.”

Well, actually, they are monsters, but that’s another matter. Anyway, the plan goes into motion. Betty smashes a plate accidently on purpose and…

  
 Eleanor Hadley had come down to the basement now. “What was that crash I just heard?” she accusingly demanded.    
  “It—it was one of the dinner plates and Betty dropped it,” Hester unhesitatingly averred. Betty stared at her new stepsister with a frown of dismay; this was tantamount to snitching, and all at once she found herself almost sadistically wishing that Hester had been the one to drop the plate instead of herself. That was hardly family loyalty, to tattle like that!    
  “Is that true, Betty?” Eleanor Hadley sternly demanded.   
   “I guess it is, Mother. I was just showing Hester my juggling act,” the lovely golden-haired teenager candidly explained.    
  “Well, young lady, I’m going to show you my famous juggling act too. Come upstairs with me this minute. As for you, Hester, please be very careful. I don’t think I have to tell you that, since it belongs to your own father.”

They go upstairs. Eleanor retrieves a leather sole and sits on the bed.

“Just pull up your skirts and slip and get over my lap. I borrowed Louise Gilmore’s leather sole because it makes a very loud noise.” With this, she turned to the edge of her bed, opened the top of the box which Hilda had brought over, and exhibited the ominous-looking leather sole. Betty gulped nervously. She had had first-hand reports from Janet and Connie Gilmore on the efficacy of this spanking implement, and now that the moment had come for her act of heroism and self-sacrifice, she was just a little uneasy because it was new to her.      Eleanor Hadley went on with a quick whisper: “It would be a good idea, darling, if you would call out a little every so often while I’m spanking you, so that Hester will hear.”

Good idea. a nice scream every now and then would get the message across.
  
 Betty bowed down her head and shoulders, bravely retaining hold of her upthrust garments, while Eleanor swiftly snugged down the little white nylon panties to her daughter’s thighs, exposing the magnificently ripe pink-sheened posterior. Then, circling the girl’s waist with her left arm, she picked up the formidable leather sole, experimentally flourished it in the air, and then let it down with a loud Whack! over the top of Betty’s naked, ripely curved right bottomglobe.    
  The sound was like a pistol shot, and Betty uttered a gasp of painful surprise, lifting her head, her eyes widening at the discovery that this was going to be a rather more taxing ordeal than she had counted on. Eleanor Hadley, pausing a moment, discovered that it was also a highly effective punishment instrument, judging from the bright pink splotch which instantly sprang up on her daughter’s naked flesh. “Get ready, darling,” she murmured encouragingly, “I’ll try not to take too long. And let me say this first, darling, Mummy is very proud of her big brave girl.”  
    Hardly had she finished this laudatory speech when she brought down the sole across the top of Betty’s bare left buttock with an angry “Clack!” And the teenager’s bare hips jerked convulsively under the noisy, stinging impact which at once imprinted a vivid splotch to match the one on the other globe.  
    As Eleanor Hadley warmed to her task, Betty discovered that she didn’t have to make-believe when it came to calling out. After about the fifth spank, which flattened against the ripest curve of her left bottomglobe, she began of her own pained reaction to call out, “Ooooh, Mother!” and “Aaaaahh, Mother!” without the slightest prompting. The loud, almost indecent-sounding thwack of the thick, flexible leather sole against her upturned bare seat produced a furious stinging heat each time the instrument landed, wielded by Eleanor Hadley’s energetic and skillful hand. It wasn’t long before Betty’s hips were swerving and wriggling, much more than when she lay passively on her own bed with her hands strapped ahead of her receiving the spanks of Eleanor’s leather strap, and even her mother was surprised at the convulsive gyrations which her daughter’s bare behind made under the descending arc of the instrument of castigation. She made a mental note to obtain a similar one for future use, because there was no gainsaying that it was highly effective. The bright flaming hue which it left and the very obvious uncomfortable heat which it generated were instantly manifested before her attentively watching eyes, and she found that she had to tighten her arm several times around Betty’s supple waist and pull the squirming, uneasy, groaning girl back closer to her body to continue the spanking.

After 50 swats, it’s over. Hester sees the reddened skin and is aghast. Betty says it’s no big deal. Well finally Hester gets in trouble. She sprays some clothes drying on the line in the back yard with a hose. (For all you Gen-X’s this is the 50’s and that’s the way they did it. They hung clothes on a clothsline.)

Now then, Hester Hadley, you are going to march upstairs to your room, and prepare yourself. And by that I mean, you’re going to take off everything except your bra and panties and stretch out on the bed, do you understand me?”   
   “But, Mrs.—Mrs.—Mrs. Hadley—” Hester stammered, growing very red in the face.  
    “And that’s another thing,” Eleanor Hadley sternly continued. “It’s high time you accepted me as your father’s wife, and gave me at least the respectful title of ‘Mother.’ Imagine, calling me Mrs. Hadley! Yes, Hester, even though you’re going to start college in another week, you’re still extremely immature, even more so than my own sixteen-year-old youngster. Now march up the stairs and get yourself ready. You are going to get your first good sound spanking.”

Finally—here we go.
  
 Feeling sorrier for herself by the moment, Hester at last drew off her dress and then her slip. Again she stared at herself in the mirror, seeing the voluptuous jut of her widely pearshaped breasts with their dark cores pressing against the almost diaphanous white nylon bra, and the exceptionally thick, indeed, somewhat embarrassingly full triangle of dark auburn pussyhair at the crotch of her panties, the apex of her long elegantly contoured thighs. There was also the outline of her garterbelt, for she was wearing flesh-colored nylons and her sandals. With a groan, she put her hands behind her, tentatively appraising her buttocks which until this moment had never known the ignominy of chastisement. Full, firm and resilient, broad fleshy ovals with a gradually broadening crease between them. Then consternation seized her as she recalled how Betty had told her how Eleanor Hadley had always spanked on the bare. Oh no! She was eighteen, she was going to start college next week, it was unthinkable that she would be so humiliated and so shamed!

Eleanor certainly likes the prospect of whipping Hester. A regular Edith Cadivec.
   
Her eyes devoured that magnificent virgin bottom, virgin indeed to the stigmata of corporal punishment. The plump, yet perfectly proportioned oval globes twitched and contorted as Hester contracted her muscles in a desperate attempt to diminish their prominence. The smooth soft tawny skin was prickled with a thousand little fluxions like gooseflesh, and because of the pillow beneath her loins, the magnificent bare bottom was thrust up in the most lasciviously inviting way! In a word, for the first time in her eighteen years of arrogant and self-centered life, Hester Hadley was ready to be whipped.
    
 Eleanor Hadley smiled triumphantly to herself as she watched the half-naked young girl tense all her muscles in an instinctive defense. It would be a while before Hester would learn that the stoic way of relaxing one’s muscles and accepting punishment was by far less taxing to a tender naked girlish bottom. But for the first lesson, there was much to be imparted. And so, without warning, Eleanor raised her right hand and brought the strap down with a wicked CRACK over the tops of Hester’s naked hips. A shrill cry of “Ohhhh!” rose at once, as the startled girl twisted her face round to stare at her stepmother. The strap had left a bright pink swath in its wake over the huddling oval globes. And even as Eleanor raised her hand for a second stroke, Hester began to whimper and to cry: “Oh no—oh please, Mother—not so hard—it hurts so—oh please I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good!”   
   Yes, indeed the magic of the whip had entered this room and permeated the psyche of this rebellious “loner”! Hester did not know it, but in her infantile words of protest and pleading, she was echoing the age-old plaints of every girl who has ever been whipped since the dawn of time.   
   SMACK, the strap bit down wickedly, about an inch below the first mark, bridging both globes. Under it Hester wriggled and then kicked her stockinged legs as she uttered another wild cry of pain and shame: “Eeyeoww! Oh, Mother, please, it hurts terribly, I’ll never do it again, Mother!”   
   By the time Eleanor Hadley had reached the tenth spank which cut with a sonorous impact across the lower summit of her stepdaughter’s squirming reddening behind, Hester was dissolved in tears. She continued to jerk at her strapped wrists, and made the evasive maneuver of trying to twist over to one side to protect her bottom from the uplifted instrument of castigation.  
    But Eleanor’s left palm pinned her down like a worm to the bed, and Eleanor’s calm and mockingly contemptuous voice served to remind the sufferer that she had hardly earned mercy or leniency in the cowardly way she was enduring the first punishment: “Will you hold still, young lady? Do you want me to call Jennie?” SMACK! “I have never seen in all my life a big grown-up girl like you behaving like such a baby, and that’s a fact.” CRACK! “Try that again, Hester, and I will call Jennie and Betty too, you’ve been warned!” SMACK! CRACK! ” You can cry all you like, just keep in position, young lady, remember that!” WHACK!   
   By the twenty-fifth spank, Hester’s tawny-skinned bare bottom was blazing with horizontal stripes from top to base, not an inch of untouched skin remaining, so dexterously and skillfully had Eleanor Hartley’s hand wielded the punishment instrument. Her legs crossed and uncrossed, rubbing together frantically; then one would kick up and lower and then the other the same, while she twisted and turned like an eel over the pillow. But Eleanor continued to maintain her as she would a little child who was rebelling against authority, and the admixture of that sternly pressing palm and Eleanor’s scathingly taunting words proved to be the very method by which Hester was subjugated to endure what had long overdue.
     “There,” her stepmother commented after the twenty-fifth smack had bitten home against the tender curves of both jouncy bottomsummits, “that’s twenty-five. Now you may have two minutes to rest before I give you the second part of your punishment, Hester.”
     And once again the magic of the whip had thoroughly conquered this unruly selfish and self-centered young woman. Bowing her head, her shoulders shaking with sobs, squirming uneasily to find a less onerous place in which to endure her castigation, Hester murmured a faint “Y—yes, Mother.”   
   She tried valiantly to suppress her cries and frantic squirmings and thrashings as the strap began to fall again. Eleanor Hadley noticed this and credited her for it, whether she knew it or not. Nonetheless, the beautiful disciplinarian did not leave off sermonizing her stepdaughter as she brought the strap down, this time all in vertical swipes that lodged their entire burning kiss over one bottomcheek rather than both; and often with her left hand she would grasp the edge of Hester’s squirming hips and pull the girl back into position over the pillow, warning her briefly that another flagrant attempt to escape would mean a call for Jennie and Betty.   
   Hester’s bottom was furiously discolored, and it was obvious to her stepmother that the girl’s skin was quite sensitive, perhaps even more than Betty’s. By the time the fiftieth lash fell over the swollen posterior, drawing a final shriek and then a series of hysterical sobs from the weeping girl, the crisscrossing pattern of welts blazed in both bright and somber hue, the earlier spanks receding and paling, and letting the fresher blows stand out in superimposed crimson fury over the jutting naked bottom.    
  “There!” Eleanor Hadley panted as she lowered the strap for the last time. “I’m going to send Betty up to you in a few minutes while you rest here. And I’ll keep my promise I shan’t tell your father. Betty will come up in about twenty minutes to untie your wrists and to put cold water and cold ream on your bottom.”      “Ohhh—ohhh—oh it hurts—oh M—Mother, I won’t ever do it again—I’m so ashamed,” Hester wept.

Welcome to the neighborhood, Hester. We are not done yet, but I’ll save the thrilling conclusion for next time.

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4 responses to “Writing the spanking scene, part 11 "More Happy Tears"

  1. “For all you Gen-X's this is the 50's and that's the way they did it. They hung clothes on a clothsline.”
    Do you mean that you don't hang them outside in the sun anymore? That's quite hard to believe!

    Like

  2. Great story thanks. Very well written and stiffening.

    Like

  3. There's not much sun in my back yard, Orage.

    Like

  4. In the 60's Paul Little was quite prolific with BDSM and spanking paperbacks.

    Like

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