This story is based on the 8mm film of the same name produced by Nu-West sometime back in the late 70’s or early 80’s. The film remains an iconic piece of work. Stills from the film can be found all over the internet, mostly in tumblr blogs. Why it resonates with aficionados even today is no mystery. Like many early Nu-West efforts, it looks authentic, grainy photo quality notwithstanding. It was a silent film, yet the players’ expressions, their body language and the action manage to push buttons the slickly produced modern videos often fail to do. Nu-West fans will also recognize “Debby,” one of the most famous of the early Nu-West models. Today Debby would be at least 50 years old. Time flies, right? Cindy looks like the girl next door, the one who confided in you that she still got spankings, and the spartan set has the look and feel of times past. The older woman, who I think is Brenda Marshall, looks like a no-nonsense mom bent on teaching her offspring a good lesson.
Originally the story line was a simple “bad report card” scenario. I’ve changed things up a bit, because I wanted a hook for launching a longer story that will pick up where this leaves off. But for now, please enjoy my transformative take on this venerable chestnut.
CINDY AND THE HAIRBRUSH
Cindy arrived at Mrs. Castle’s house early. She had nothing better to do, and truth be told, she wanted to bend Joan Castle’s ear and unload. She had received some interim grade reports and they were not good. She needed a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. As a surrogate mom-away-from-home, Joan was elected.
Joan had accepted the role as a sort of mentor, a worldly woman in whom Cindy could confide when things got rough. It helped that Joan was pretty, intelligent, and assertive. A role model for Cindy, she was the modern woman who had it all, plus an efficient no nonsense approach to life coupled with a sense of humor that always worked to put Cindy at ease. Over the last semester she’d grown close to Mrs. Castle and her family.
But there was also something else. After some reflection, Cindy had to admit to herself that she was attracted to Joan Castle in another way. Her beauty and take charge manner roused feelings in Cindy she could not deny. She almost wished the woman would take charge of her, correct her deficiencies and insecurities, and be the disciplinarian, if necessary. So far she’d been content to let those feelings simmer, but in her heart she knew they were growing stronger. Cindy needed a strong person to lean on, to guide and correct her when she veered from the path. Before, there had been teachers and relatives. Now there was nobody.
Cindy thought maybe Joan had leanings the same way, but she didn’t know. It was just a feeling she got sometimes when Joan would look at her a certain way, or touch her arm or put a hand on her shoulder. Maybe, just maybe, Joan Castle liked girls. Or it could be just Cindy’s overwrought imagination. She certainly wasn’t about to tell Joan how she felt. That might ruin everything.
It was hard being away from home for the first time, and although Grenly College wasn’t that far away, to an eighteen year old who had never been away from her family more than two weeks in the summer for camp, it was an adjustment.
Cindy had scored the babysitting job with Joan Castle to act as companion for Debby, her daughter, by responding to a note posted on a board in the student union. They had met and hit it off nicely. Debby and Cindy took to each other as well. She was a nice kid, a pretty fifteen year old tasting the first stirrings of adolescence. Now Joan called Cindy frequently to be with Debby while she handled appointments and house showings. Joan Castle was a real estate agent and from what Cindy could observe, a pretty successful one.
The door was open when Cindy arrived, so she went right in. She didn’t figure that being a few minutes early would make any difference and besides she wanted to talk to Joan before Joan left for her open house.
“Hello?” Cindy called out but no one answered.
Then she heard it, sounds coming from below. The sharp splatting sound of an object smacking flesh, followed by cries and squeals mixed with pleas for forgiveness. What on earth? Then it came to her. Someone was being spanked. The realization hit her like an electric shock. Her knees wobbled and a perverse excitement took hold. There was something about such an intimate and embarrassing punishment that put butterflies in her stomach and made chills run up her spine, even as it was happening to someone else.
Cindy knew there was a basement rec room. It was where she and Debby spent time together when Cindy babysat. Cindy tiptoed to the basement door and gently turned the knob. Did she dare? Whatever was going on had to be private, but Cindy had to see. The thrill of the secret was too much.
Cindy crept down the stairs, keeping to the shadows. But four or five steps down gave her a full view of the room. What she saw made her heart catch in her throat.
Joan sat in a chair that faced the long side of the room opposite the fireplace and TV. She held Debby face down across her lap. In her hand she held a solid looking hairbrush that she plied with deliberate strokes, her arm flashing up and down, smacking Debby’s cute teenage derriere over and over again. Debby’s skirt had been flipped up and her bottom was bare because her panties had been slipped down to her knees. She howled and pleaded and fluttered her legs as Joan’s delivered smack after smack to her daughter’s bouncing fanny.
“Ow, mama. Please mama. I’ll do better,” wailed Debby as her mom reddened her pert bottom with the hard brush.
“Yes, you will, Deborah Ann, and I’ll have no more of this attitude. Do you hear me young lady?” She added a swift volley of spanks to emphasize her point.
“I’ll stop when the timer goes off. You know that Debby,” said her mom who continued to pepper her daughter’s fanny with vigorous spanks.
“Owww! Wahhh!” wailed Debby. The pop-pop-pop of the hairbrush echoed off the walls.
Cindy heard a ding! Joan halted the spanking. Cindy noticed an egg timer sitting on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The spanking must have been timed. Interesting. Joan lifted her daughter up and turned her over so that Debby now sat in her lap. Joan’s arms enveloped her daughter in a hug. Cindy couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was apparently words of comfort and forgiveness.
She backed up the stairs as quietly as she could.
Cindy tried to make it look as if she’d just arrived when Joan emerged from downstairs.
“Oh hello, Cindy. Just give me a minute to freshen up. Debby is downstairs. She’ll be up in a minute.”
“Ok, Mrs. C.” Cindy’s eyes flitted nervously. Joan cocked her head.
“Is something wrong, dear?”
“No, no, Mrs. C. I’m fine.”
“Well, then. Debby is downstairs.” She picked up her purse. “I’ll see you later. It will be an hour or two.”
Debby was drying her eyes when Cindy descended to the rec room.
“Is anything wrong?” Cindy feigned ignorance of what had happened.
Debby didn’t try to hide it. “Mama spanked me!”
Cindy tried to look surprised. “She spanked you? Why?”
“I got really lousy marks. Last month she said if I didn’t stay off the phone with my friends and my grades didn’t come up, I was going to get two minutes of hard spanking with the hairbrush. I didn’t think she’d really do it, but she did.” She rubbed her bottom through her jeans. “Oh, wow, it really burns.”
The tears soon dried, and Debby reverted to her usual cheerful self. Cindy noticed her quick turnaround in attitude.
“Does your mom spank you often?
“Sometimes. When I mess up I go over mom’s knee and get the hairbrush on my bare bottom.”
“Do you resent your mom for doing that?”
Debby shrugged her shoulders. “I guess not. I deserve it and afterwards she hugs me and forgives me, so I know she loves me.”
That got Cindy to thinking and the thinking became an obsession. She could not get the image of Debby’s bouncing butt out of her head, nor of Joan Castle dispensing the discipline. What would it be like? In her mind’s eye it was she over Mrs. Castle’s knee with her panties at her knees her bottom on lurid display. The thought gave her chills, and Cindy discovered her pussy became wet the more she fantasized about receiving a spanking from the older woman.
What might the outcome be if she were turned up over a matronly lap and bared for such a humiliating punishment? The thoughts of such shame became almost delicious. Alone in her bed at night she wallowed in fantasies of shame and embarrassment, of being spanked on her exposed bottom by Joan Castle, all the while stroking her little button to climax. Might this be a way to forge a bond of intimacy between them? After several days she made up her mind.
It was a Monday morning when Cindy knocked on the door of Mrs. Castle’s house. Cindy wore a pleated skirt in a plaid pattern and a plain blouse. Knee socks and flats completed the ensemble. The effect was to make her look much younger than her age, transforming her from a mature college student to a high school teenager.
“Cindy,” said Joan Castle, “whatever are you doing here?” She was surprised to see Cindy at her back door.
“May I come in, Mrs. Castle? I’d like to talk to you. If you have some time, that is.”
“Why, of course, dear. I’m just having coffee,” she said and indicated for Cindy to follow her. “Would you like some?”
“Yes, please,” said Cindy. Mrs. Castle wore a plain black dress. It looked as though she was getting ready to go to work, but Joan said, “I’m not due at the office for a while, so we can talk.”
The older woman sat down at her counter and poured Cindy a cup.
“Now, what is all this about?”
“Well,” said Cindy, “it’s about my grades. I’m not doing very well.” Her eyes were downcast.
“Your grades are poor?” said Joan. She could also see Cindy was nervous. “Why do you think that is?”
Cindy shrugged. “I don’t know. I have a hard time buckling down, I guess. There are so many distractions. I put things off, waste time, that kind of stuff.” She looked beseechingly at Joan. “And I’m worried I might flunk out and waste all the money my folks paid. It’s not like high school at all where I had to toe the line and show my grades to my parents.”
Cindy paused. She raised her head and met Joan’s eyes. “I just feel so bad about it all.” Cindy took a deep breath, then blurted it out. “Sometimes I think someone should just give me a good hard spanking. Maybe then I’d get, I don’t know, motivated or something.”
Joan sat back, surprised, but evaluating what she’d just heard. She didn’t say a word, but she gazed intently at Cindy’s face for a moment. “I see,” said Joan. “You need to be held accountable, is that it?”
“Something like that,” Cindy mumbled.
“Hmm. Well, I can understand that,” said the older woman. “We all need to be held accountable one way or another.”
Joan feigned nonchalance but Cindy could see her shift in her chair. The woman’s breath quickened and Cindy sensed an undercurrent of excitement even as Joan tried to suppress it.
“So you think maybe you need a spanking, is that it? Motivate you to buckle down?” Joan raised her eyebrows. “Is that what you desire, Cindy?”
Cindy licked her lips and nodded without meeting Joan’s eyes. “Yes.”
Joan sat up and leaned forward. “Have you ever been spanked before, Cindy?”
“It’s not pleasant, you know. It hurts. It hurts a lot.”
“Maybe I need for it to hurt to teach me to do better.”
There was silence for a moment. “Do you know what you are asking?”
“I think so,” said Cindy.
Joan studied Cindy’s face, trying to gage her level of seriousness. “So Debby told you what happened to her, is that it?”
Cindy said nothing.
A look of understanding crossed Joan’s face. “You saw, didn’t you?”
“I knew I’d heard something on the stairs. It was you.”
Cindy squirmed and dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Spying is not polite,” chided Joan. But she did not seem that upset.
“It just happened.”
“Just happened, did it? Well then, you know how I do things. If I give out a spanking, it’s for real.”
“I know,” said Cindy in a small voice.
“You really want to go through with this. You think it will help you.” Joan seemed to be talking to herself.
Joan pulled herself upright up and she shook her head. “I’ll have to say, this is about the most unusual request I’ve ever had. A child rarely asks for a spanking.” She paused, seeming to come to an understanding of the situation. “But then, you aren’t a child are you?” A light flicked on in Joan Castle’s head. “But if it’s what you want…”
“Yes, Mrs. C. It is. I think it will be to my benefit.”
Joan pushed back from the counter and stood up.
“You are quite the young lady aren’t you? A schoolgirl deserving of a good sound spanking. And you do deserve one for spying on a private moment.” Joan’s voice had turned low and seductive. She reached out and touched Cindy’s cheek.
“Well, then. I’ll give you what you want, dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs. C.”
Joan shot her a sharp look, her eyes narrowed. “But let’s get one thing straight.”
“This will be on my terms, do you understand? We do this my way, start to finish. No begging off, no stopping until I say. I give very thorough spankings, dear.”
Cindy gulped. “Yes, ma’am.”
“All right, young lady. Come with me. Let’s take a trip upstairs to my bedroom.”
Cindy let Joan take her by the hand and lead her up the stairs. They were going to Joan’s bedroom, not down into the rec room. This struck Cindy as a more intimate setting. Joan was silent, but there was tension in the air. Cindy’s stomach was in knots, whether due to fear of the actual spanking to come or excitement, she wasn’t sure, but she was aware her pussy was soaking wet. The lips of her quim felt slippery and little surges of pleasure traveled up her spine as she felt the tugging pressure of Joan’s hand pulling her along, demonstrating to Cindy who was in control. It made Cindy feel like a little girl, someone much younger than her actual years. When they got to the bedroom, more surprises were in store for Cindy.
Joan released her hand. “Now, Cindy, I want you stand over there, nose in the corner. Naughty girls who about to be spanked need to think about why they are being punished.”
The tone was authoritarian, Joan establishing herself as a real disciplinarian.
“Go on, you naughty girl,” she said, and gave Cindy a swat on her backside. “I’ll get things ready.”
Cindy said “Yes, ma’am,” and obeyed, repairing to the corner. That slap on her behind tingled like an electric charge as she stood motionless facing the corner. Behind her she could hear the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor and after that, drawers opening and the clattering sounds of a hand moving hard objects around. She waited, all her senses finely attuned for whatever was coming next.
“All right, young lady, turn around and come here.”
Cindy turned to see Joan seated in a vanity chair at the foot of the bed. Lying on the coverlet was a large wooden hairbrush. Joan pointed to her right side. Cindy came close and stood, waiting for the next command.
“You’ve been naughty, haven’t you?” said Joan. She held Cindy with a smoky gaze that promised both punishment and pleasures to come. She picked up then tapped the large wooden flat-backed hairbrush in the palm of her hand and said, “This is a wooden hairbrush, Cindy. It’s size and weight are perfect for spanking the bottoms of naughty girls. It will sting. Are you sure you are ready for this?”
Cindy gulped. “Yes, ma’am.” No she wasn’t sure she was ready by any measure, but she’d come too far. A heady mix of fear, curiosity, and excitement drove her forward.
“Then raise your skirt.”
Cindy slowly grasped the hem of her skirt and pulled it up until the hem was at her waist, her pantied bottom on display.
Joan put the brush in her lap and reached out with both hands, inserting her fingers in either side of the elastic waist band of the brief panties. “These are coming down, Cindy.” Cindy gasped as Joan slid the panties to Cindy’s knees. “I spank only on the bare bottom.” She looked up. “But then you knew that.”
Cindy felt a puff of breeze waft across her bare hind cheeks. It was a strange and vulnerable feeling, the baring of such an intimate body part. The rest of her remained clothed, creating an odd counterpoint to the baring of her seat.
“All right, Cindy. Over my knee, girl.” She pushed gently at the small of Cindy’s back.
Cindy put her hands on Joan’s legs and lowered herself, allowing her body to collapse across Joan’s fleshy thighs. It felt strangely comforting to be held this way, even if her bottom were fully exposed to Joan’s gaze. She looked to her right and saw an image of herself and Joan in a large vanity mirror, the stern older woman and her young charge about to enact an age old ritual of juvenile chastisement. She could watch everything, she realized, like a movie that featured someone else. But in a moment it would be all too real because she was in it.
Joan shifted Cindy until she was satisfied with the position. She placed Cindy just so, her bottom arcing upward, the rounded globes being the highest point over her lap and at the perfect angle to receive the spanking to come. Cindy saw Joan take up the hairbrush. She felt the first tap-tap-tap of the hard wooden surface. Saw Joan raise her arm. She shut her eyes.
There was a whoosh, then a smack! The brush landed on her right bottom cheek.
Whoosh … smack! Left side.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Right. Left. Center.
“Yow!” exclaimed Cindy. It hurt!
She opened her eyes and looked right. Joan’s arm rose and fell at a steady interval, spanking fire into Cindy’s wobbling buttocks. Cindy squirmed, but Joan had her left arm across Cindy’s back, holding her down.
“Tsk! Tsk! No you don’t. Stop that squirming and take your punishment.
Whack! Splat! Smack! The spanks continued to fall, imparting an intense sting to Cindy’s bottom that grew worse with each meaty smack.
Cindy could see as well as feel. The brush struck again and again making her rounded globes judder, a dance of wobbling flesh. Cindy wasn’t a big girl, but she had a nice full fanny and that fanny was now absorbing smack after smack being meted out by a determined woman with plenty of force behind each lick.
Cindy humped up and down, sometimes in time to the spanking, as if she were raising her fanny to meet the descending brush. That was not what she intended and she pressed her hips into Joan’s lap trying to diminish the target area. It didn’t work. The awful heat rose to an unbearable level.
So this is a real spanking. It’s humiliating. It hurts something awful and I’m going to cry.
Joan added scolding to the painful experience.
“I hope (Smack! Crack!) this is teaching you a lesson. (Whack! Crack!) You cannot get ahead (Smack! Whap!) if you slough off your studies (Smack! Whack! Crack!).”
The burning in her seat was now overwhelming.
“Ow! Ow! Yes, ma’am. Oh, yow!” Cindy flailed with her hands and flutter kicked her feet in a futile attempt to throw off the hot sting of the hairbrush which spanked her wriggling fanny with gusto. She looked over in the mirror and saw a desperately squirming girl with a red pair of bottom cheeks being well tanned by a grimly determined woman wielding a stout hairbrush. It would have been a curiously lurid and arousing spectacle had it been happening to someone else. But it wasn’t happening to someone else, it was happening to her and she acutely felt each stinging crack of the brush.
A final flurry of spanks made her wail piteously and tears welled up in her eyes. She slumped over Joan’s lap, spent and totally chastened.
The spanking stopped. Joan put the brush on the bed behind her. She rubbed her palm across the inflamed cheeks of Cindy’s behind.
“There, there, it’s all over now,” she said. Joan continued to soothe the harshly reddened globes of Cindy’s behind with her hand. The next thing Cindy felt was a cooling sensation. Joan had put some kind of lotion in her hand and was rubbing it in little circles. “Is that better?” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Cindy.
“I know it is – from experience,” said Joan. “My mother spanked and believe you me, I got some real burners growing up.”
“You did?” Cindy looked over her shoulder, her eyes still filled with tears.
“Oh, yes. I got it in my sorority, too. In college. With big paddles.”
“Did that hurt a lot?”
Joan continued to massage Cindy’s bottom with the lotion. “It hurt plenty, but you know what we girls did afterwards?”
“No, I don’t.” She had no idea what Joan was getting at.
“Well ….” Joan let her fingers dip lower, into the cleft between Cindy’s legs.
Cindy sucked in her breath at the sudden rush of pleasure. She spread her legs apart.
Joan’s fingers found Cindy’s slit. “My, my. You are all wet, Cindy” Joan’s voice was throaty and seductive. “What we did was pleasure each other, Cindy. As only girls know how to do. It took the edge off the sting. Would you like for me to keep going?” Her fingers now rubbed up and down, in and out of Cindy’s vagina. Waves of sexual delight coursed through Cindy’s body. She pumped her hips, impaling herself on the probing fingers, seeking the magic in Joan’s tender touch that made the pleasure spiral higher and higher. It was coming. A wave was coming.
“Oh, yes, yes. Please. Don’t stop.” Cindy flopped like a fish, squirming and gasping with pleasure as Joan manipulated the little bud in the folds of her sex.
“Nhh…ahhh….nhuhhh,” croaked Cindy. The orgasm hit her like a blinding explosion. She stiffened then jerked and bucked, out of control, like a mad marionette being yanked about on its strings. The waves hit a peak, then died away. Cindy collapsed.
Joan lifted Cindy up and sat her in her lap. “There. How did that feel?”
Cindy lifted her head and kissed Joan on the lips. Joan returned the kiss, opening her mouth, letting tongues entwine. They held that kiss for a long time, then Joan broke away and lifted Cindy to her feet.
“We girls did other things too. After a spanking, I mean. Would you like to see?”
Cindy nodded. Joan proceeded to undress Cindy. When she was naked, Joan took her own clothes off. Together they tumbled into Joan’s bed, and for the long afternoon Joan instructed her eager student in the art of woman to woman pleasure.
Cindy left hours later, satiated, but with a warm glow in her bottom to remind her of what it had meant to receive a real spanking. The experience had been an eye opener, a sea turn. In the end Joan had given her a kiss, a pat on the fanny and the promise of a repeat. Cindy could hardly wait.