Corporal Discipline Protective Services

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

Corporal Discipline Protective Services

(***, Ninja/MMFFF/mmfffffff, Severe, non-consensual paddling, caning, strapping)

A mysterious organization teaches families how to spank. (Approximately 6,525 words. Originally published 2017-12.)

Debby was voluptuously naked, but that was the least of the pretty teen's worries. She was far more concerned with the sight of the small thick wooden paddle and heavy leather strop on the coffee table.

She stood nervously with one hand over her large breasts and another barely covering the reddish-brown bush at her crotch, and pleaded with her parents. But their expressions were grim and promised no mercy. Neglecting chores on a farm was practically a mortal sin. Skipping chores to go make out with Clyde Dawkins, a boy three years older, made it even worse.

She was really in for it. In a normal spanking, she'd be howling over her mother's lap for an endless five minutes of bottom blistering, and then her father would start in with a good forty lashes with the strop.

This did not appear to be a normal spanking. If she was lucky, it'd only be double.

Her stout mother sat on the sofa and patted her lap sternly. She reached for the little paddle that inspired terror in young Debby, when suddenly she stopped. Her expression went puzzled. Then she slumped over like she was sleeping. Her husband, Roger, a tall lean bearded man, frowned.

"Elizabeth?" he said, stepping forward. Then he, too, fell to the floor in a heap.

Debby stared at her parents in bewilderment. She was still so focused on her upcoming whipping that she couldn't quite process what she'd just seen. That was when the two ninjas stepped out of the shadows like ghosts in black and Debby's world faded away.

When Debby came to, she was in a large room with concrete walls. There was a strange smell in the air that was rapidly clearing her mind. She looked around, curious and nervous.

All around her others were waking up. Nearby were a bunch of kids, the girls in pink pajamas like the ones she wore, the guys in pale blue ones. They were all in chairs arranged like a classroom. She spotted her brother, Jack. He seemed fine. He was ignoring her, staring at a cute blond the next row.

At the front of the room were adults sitting at little desks. They were dressed in paper gowns, like the kind given to hospital patients, only these were bright orange.

Debby saw her parents, her father groggily rubbing his head, and she realized that everyone in the room had been drugged in some way. Her heart squeezed painfully as she suddenly remembered she'd been about to get a whipping when her parents had fallen asleep. And then she'd seen... ninjas!

She saw them now, two by the door and a few others roaming the room as guards. They carried small dart guns. They were dressed all in black, their faces wrapped so only their eyes were visible. She couldn't even tell if they were men or women. They looked terrifying.

"Welcome!" said a booming voice. It was slightly distorted, almost mechanical. It was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman speaking. It was coming from some hidden speaker system. Everyone was looking around for the source, but the room was sealed and whoever was talking was outside.

"I realize you're a little confused, so let me explain. I apologize for the unorthodox manner in which you were brought here, but that is required by the clandestine nature of these proceedings.

"I am the president of an organization known as Corporal Discipline Protective Services. Our mission is the preservation of the practice of corporal punishment. We believe that when CP is used correctly, it's a remarkably efficient and effective method of training. However, the greatest threat to the use of CP is when ignorant folks abuse the practice. You four families have been brought here for training and reeducation as you have been convicted of abusing CP."

"What the hell man, let us go!" screamed an angry man on the right side of the room. He was yanking at his wrists and Debby saw with astonishment that he was handcuffed to the desk in front of him. Then she realized all the adults were imprisoned in the same manner. Even her parents. The children were not restrained.

"You will refrain from interrupting me," said the speaker voice sternly.

"You have no right to do this!" snapped the man.

"No legal right, that is correct. But we have a moral right. Now be quiet unless you wish to be punished."

There was a brief silence as the man contemplated this. He was a good-looking guy with fair hair and a strong jaw. He looked to be in his forties and reasonably fit, but he was chained to the desk, and the ninja guards were pointing their dart guns at him. He wisely shut up.

"As I was saying, you four families have been convicted of excessive corporal punishment. We've been monitoring you for the last month and have documented enough cases of abuse that we could easily turn the evidence into Child Protective Services and you'd lose custody of your children.

"However, we don't want to break up families. That's not good for anyone. So this is your only chance to redeem yourselves. If you are ever seen abusing your children again, we will turn you in. There is no appeal to our rules, so don't bother arguing.

"Now I will say that in the vast majority of cases, parents love their children, and any punishment excess is out of ignorance. Either you've never been corporally punished yourself, or it was so long ago you've forgotten what it felt like. Some of you may simply be punishing your children the way you were punished and don't realize you were abused yourself.

"If you are not truly evil people, and I hope none of you are, today's training will teach you how to punish properly in a non-abusive fashion. If you actually are sadists, then your children will be taken away from you."

"You can't do that!" cried one of the women from the front of the room. She was short and stout, with dark hair and a full face. Angry, she did not look very pretty.

"It won't be us doing it," boomed the voice. "Once we turn our video recordings to the state, they'll take away your children and possibly throw you in jail. Trust me, we don't want that to happen. The bad publicity hurts our cause, which is for humane and appropriate forms of corporal punishment."

Debby's father suddenly spoke up. "You're bluffing. You don't have video recordings! That's crazy!"

"Very well," said the voice, and suddenly one of the walls gleamed with a projected video.

Debby immediately recognized their barn and the slim nude figure of her brother Jack. There were giggles from some of the young girls in the room, who turned to stare at him. He crouched in his chair, blushing hotly.

The video showed Jack's buttocks were already a sea of crimson, "warmed up" by his mom's paddle. The cheeks looked blistered and raw, and when Roger started flogging his son with the leather strop, the beating was brutal.

Fortunately, only a few seconds were shown, and just as Debby was thinking, Whew! Glad that's over, the video suddenly showed their living room and a naked Debby kicking and howling across her mother's broad lap as the dreaded small paddle whacked her already-scarlet buttocks. Debby blushed and covered her face with her hands, sinking into her chair.

Quickly then, the wall showed snippets of spankings of each of the children in the room. There were several pretty blond girls getting their bare bottoms whacked with a huge paddle, a boy and a girl getting the hairbrush, and two older girls getting lashed with a long thin stick. The adults watched with white, nervous faces, though the angry blond man seemed even more furious instead of afraid.

"There are plenty more of these videos," said the disembodied voice. "This is just a sample, to show you we aren't bluffing. The full videos have sound, too, so you can hear the impact of the implement on bare skin and judge the severity, as well as the screams of your children."

There was a period of silence while all this information was digested. Then the voice continued, "So now let's begin. We'll go left to right, just because it's convenient. That means we begin with Sharon K. I'll refrain from using any of your last names, for reasons of privacy.

"Sharon is a single mom with two children, Adrienne and Lucas, who are 13 and 12, respectively. Children, would you stand up, please?"

Nervously a slender dark-haired girl got to her feet, as did a her blond brother. After a few seconds, they sat back down, blushing. The girl was cute, Debby thought, though at an awkward age. She was tall and gangly, and her adult face hadn't come in yet. The boy was more pretty than masculine, but in a few years, he'd be a stud.

"Sharon works very hard to make ends meet. She's an account manager and it's stressful, and when she comes home and her children have misbehaved, as children do, she reacts with anger. You should never spank out of anger, Sharon. If you can't control your temper, delay the spanking until your emotions are under control. Do you understand?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," said the short dark-haired woman on the left, scowling.

"You favor the hairbrush when you spank. Were you spanked as a child, Sharon?"

"Uh, yeah, a few times. When I was young."

"Were you spanked with a hairbrush?"


"Do you remember how much the hairbrush hurts?"

The woman frowned, shaking her head. "It was a long time ago."

"How hard is a reasonable spanking for your daughter and son?"

"I don't know. It has to be until they're crying really well and remember it."

"How long do you usually spank them?"

"Uh, just a few minutes," said the woman.

"Liar!" roared the voice, and the woman flushed and winced. "We've monitored you for the past month, and in that time you've spanked Adrienne three times and Lucas twice. The minimum dose you've given them is five minutes and twenty seconds of steady hairbrushing. That's far too severe for such young children. Today you're going to be educated."

Suddenly there was movement by two of the ninjas. They swept in around the short woman, unlocking her from the desk and carrying her to a chair where she was draped over the lap of the taller ninja. The woman was yelling and struggling, but the ninjas maneuvered her easily, as though she were a child. Once she was over the lap, the back of her gown fell open, the side to the audience falling down so that everyone could see the woman was completely nude under the flimsy garment. Her butt was large and bulbous, and extremely white. This was in direct contrast to Sharon's face, which was beet red.

There were gasps and giggles from the children, who sat up and watched with interest. Debby noted the woman's two children were particularly alert.

Out of nowhere the lead ninja suddenly had a large sturdy wooden hairbrush in his hand. He began to smack it down hard onto the big white bottom before him. The splattering sound was loud in the room, Sharon's screeches and protests even louder. But the spanker didn't pay attention to her cries. The ninja just spanked and spanked. He worked the back of that brush all over every inch of the woman's rump, which soon was more pink than white.

"That was one minute of spanking," narrated the voice.

"Oh God, please stop!" cried Sharon. "It hurts, it hurts!"

The spanking didn't stop. The brush went up and down, up and down, over and over in a ceaseless cycle. The speaker announced the second minute, and still the brush paddled hard. Every blow was firm, and though the woman wiggled and writhed, she couldn't escape the ninja's solid grip. She howled and sobbed, her bottom now the color of a tomato.

Finally the third minute was reached and the spanking stopped. The woman lay across the lap, sobbing. "Oh my God," she moaned. "That hurt so bad!"

"Do you feel punished, Sharon?"

"Oh, hell yeah!"

"Do you require more chastisement?"

"Hell no! Please, I'm done! I've had enough."

"Three minutes of spanking like you just endured is plenty for your children. As they grow up, you can spank them for a few extra seconds. Five minutes is the maximum until they're adults, however. And even then that should be reserved for the most serious of offenses.

"The thing you need to understand that is that spankings aren't linear. A two-minute spanking is not twice as bad as a one-minute one -- it's more like three times worse. Ten swats with a paddle is not twice as bad as five -- it's three times worse.

"This is true of all spankings, and it means that to make a punishment more severe, you only need to escalate it a tiny bit. But you all go overboard. Let's show Sharon the kind of spanking she usually gives her children."

Suddenly the hairbrush was flying again, a deadly blur that reddened the big, wobbling buttocks as the woman shrieked and protested. She soon lost all sense coherency, however, babbling and then breaking down into heaving sobs.

"That's five minutes and twenty seconds, the shortest spanking you gave any of your children in the past month. Does that seem a bit severe to you?"

"Oh, yes, it was, and I'm sorry," cried the woman. "I had no idea the brush hurt so badly!"

"Well, the problem is that you spanked your daughter a lot more than this... you gave her nearly ten minutes just last week."

The tearful woman suddenly realized what that meant and opened her mouth to protest when the hairbrush took away her breath. The spanking went on and on, terribly hard, until even her children were fidgeting in their seats nervously, having trouble watching their mother sob like a baby.

"There, that matches Adrienne's spanking of nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Do you think that was excessive?"

"Oh yes! Please don't spank me any more, I've learned my lesson, I'll be more careful in the future, I swear I will."

"That's excellent, and I almost believe you," said the voice. "There's just one problem."

"Oh God! No more spanking, please!"

"I'm afraid you're an adult, Sharon. You're 34 years old. Adrienne is just 13. That means you're 2.6 years old than her. Do you know what that means?"

"No, please, have mercy," sobbed the woman."

"Did you show your children mercy? Didn't they scream and beg for you to stop?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Yes, I'm sure you are, but we must ensure that you never spank your children excessively. That means you need to feel what your daughter felt. That means your spanking needs to be 2.6 times as much as what you've gotten so far!"

Sharon screamed in terror as the brush began to pepper her bottom again. It worked every inch, then worked the same skin again, and then again. A countdown clock was projected on the wall showing there were still seven minutes left in Sharon's 26-minute spanking. By this point her buttocks were black and blue and all the fight had gone from her. She lay slumped across the ninja's lap, a limp doll, dripping tears and snot. The spanking went on and on, the clock slowly ticking down.

"Wait! Please stop!" said a weepy voice. It was the small blond boy, Lucas, on his feet. He was crying. "Please, sir, I know my mother was bad, but she didn't mean to be. She loves us and only spanked us because she thought she was doing the right thing. Please stop. She's had enough. She's learned her lesson."

The spanking and the countdown clock paused. There was a few seconds of stunned silence.

"Is this true, Sharon?" said the voice finally. "Have you learned your lesson?"

Weakly the woman raised her head. She was staring at her son. Tears were flowing now, and they weren't from the pain. "Oh Lucas," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. Adrienne, too! I was a real bitch. I deserved this punishment, I really did."

"It's okay, Mom," said Adrienne, starting to cry as well.

"We forgive you," said Lucas.

The woman shuddered. She looked at the wall, seeing the minutes remaining was just over four minutes. She took a deep breath.

"Sir?" she called out. "I know my children have asked you for mercy, and I'm incredibly grateful and proud of them, but I don't deserve it. I see that now. This is only one spanking for me, while I've over-spanked them dozens, maybe hundreds of times. I deserve the full spanking you have planned for me. Please... continue."

"Very well," said the voice, and suddenly the spanking resumed. The woman wept as her buttocks were welted purple and black, but she took every spank due until the clock read zero.

Her children watched through tear-filled eyes. The others stared in amazement. The other parents looked ill, their faces white with fear.

"You've done very well, Sharon K.," said the voice. "Very well. I consider you reformed. It is now time to move on to our next parent, Carmen C. Carmen has three daughters, Dori, Keri, and Lizi. Would you stand up, girls?"

Three lovely blond girls got to their feet. The oldest, Dori, was fourteen and just stunningly gorgeous, slender and delicate, with a growing feminine physique. Keri was a slim tomboy with hints of red in her blond hair. Lizi was only eleven, and small for her age. She was as cute as a doll.

"Carmen," said the voice, "you use a paddle to spank your kids."

The woman, who was a stout blond, glared at the ceiling. "Don't you dare spank me!" she cried. "I only spank them when they deserve it."

"But your paddle is a big fraternity board, isn't it? The kind that can make a grown man cry?"

"I don't know. I got it at some novelty shop a few years ago. I needed something to control the girls. They were getting out of hand."

"So you've never felt the paddle yourself."

"Of course not! Don't be absurd. And don't dare think that you can spank me. You'll be hearing from my lawyer!"

"And who is your lawyer going to sue?" said the voice. You could hear the smile.

"Why you fucking--"

"Please, ma'am. There are children present!"

Abashed, Carmen quieted. She took a breath. "Look, I get what you're doing, but I've never spanked my children excessively. I use the paddle, yes, but I only give them their ages in swats. That's fair."

"You believe is is fair to give a fourteen-year-old 14 licks with this paddle?"

One of the ninjas held up a large slab of wood. There were gasps from both the adults and children watching. The board was nearly two feet long, thick, and as solid as stone. It looked brutal and deadly.

"Let us see how you answer that question in a moment," said the voice, and ninjas were suddenly pulling the big blond across her desk. Her flimsy gown was opened revealing large, spacious cheeks, snow white. The mounds were thick and full of bouncy fat, which jiggled as the woman kicked her long legs. A Velcro strap was suddenly looped around her ankles, pinning her feet. The woman cursed and jerked, but couldn't escape her bonds.

Then a nina was behind her with the paddle. The woman was turned so her butt faced the children, who all watched with wide, curious eyes !as the heavy slab spanked the big cheeks soundly. With just that first explosive blow the woman screamed as though she was being branded. Her hips jerked as she writhed in agony.

"Ow! Oh my God! Ah, that hurts, oh fuck that hurts!" she yelled. A second spank came down and she screamed again. Then there was a third and she was sobbing, begging for it to stop, yelling that she understood and would be good. Her big butt tossed from side to side as the heavy wood worked it. The paddling finally stopped after she'd been given seven brutal blows.

"How did that feel?" asked the voice.

"Oh my Lord in Heaven," sobbed the woman. "That was insane. I've never felt anything like that before."

"You were never spanked with a paddle like this?"

"No. I had no idea it was so bad!"

"Didn't your daughters tell you?"

"They complained, but I thought they just didn't like to be spanked. That seemed normal."

"How many swats did you get?"

"I don't know. I... I lost count. Ten? Twelve? Was that fourteen?"

"You received seven. Half your daughter's punishment."

"Oh God. Fuck, that hurt. That really, really hurt. That was just seven?"

"That was seven. That's how many you should be giving with the paddle. A board like this is designed for adults. It can be used on smaller children, but you must never swing it very hard, and half a child's age is the maximum. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, I agree!" said the woman quickly. "I'm sorry, girls. You were right. That paddle is too big!"

"I'm glad you're learning," said the voice. "But you gave your daughter 14 swats."

"Oh no! Please, have mercy!" screamed the blond, her voice breaking off as the heavy wooden board licked hard across her big bare buttocks. They were now showing signs of serious reddening.

Slowly the woman was paddled all the way to fourteen swats, and she sobbed the whole time.

"Have you learned your lesson, Carmen?"

"Yes! Yes I have!"

"I almost believe you."

"Oh God, not more. I can't take any more. My ass is fucking roasted!"

There was a beat and then the voice calmly said, "You're not fourteen."

Carmen screamed in dismay.

"You're thirty-eight."

"No, you can't! That many would kill me!"

"It's what you did. Their age in swats. It was 'fair,' you said."

"I was wrong! I was so very, very wrong!"

But Carmen's protests did no good. The ninja with the paddle began to swing it, while the speaker dispassionately reported the count. Twenty, 25, 30, 35. Carmen's big bottom went from scarlet to burgundy to purple, and then headed toward black. The final three were real butt-busters, heavy slams that seemed to rattle the building. Carmen's girls watched in dismay, conflicted between their feelings of justice and sympathy. But at least it was finally over.

Carmen was released and it took the blond over a minute to get to her feet. She couldn't stop crying, or reaching back to fondle her blazing buttocks. She seemed astonished to feel how leaden and hot the flesh was, the big mounds covered with thick swellings inflaming the skin.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she kept saying.

"It's okay, mom," said the pretty Dori. "We know you won't spank us too hard any more."

"I won't, I swear I won't! That paddle... the pain's insane!"

Debby now suddenly realized it was her parents' turn. Her stomach twisted nervously. On the one hand, it seemed rather cool to see them get their just desserts. On the other hand, they were her parents and she loved them, despite the severity of their spankings.

"Roger and Elizabeth D. are next," said the voice. The farmer and his wife stiffened. His jaw locked in rebellion, while she was looking more contrite.

"The two of you have a policy of spanking your children together. Elizabeth warms up the bottom with a small paddle, and then Roger, you give them the strop. That's a good idea and it's fair and appropriate to share the discipline duties, but you two go much too far."

"We're sorry and we won't do it any more!" shouted Elizabeth quickly, her face showing urgent fear.

"You know what has to happen," said the voice. "You've each got to get exactly what you give your kids, Jack and Debby."

Debby and her brother stood and nodded to the others, and then sat back down.

The couple were guided to their feet and moved around to the front of the little desks and leaned forward across them. The gowns, split at the back, opened, revealing fleshy white buttocks for her, and hairy scrawny cheeks for him. Small wooden paddles worked on both buttocks for three minutes. The two groaned, Elizabeth weeping with shame.

"That's a perfect warmup spanking -- just a little dose of the board in preparation for more. But you didn't stop there. You gave double that."

"No!" cried the woman, but it was too late. The paddles were roaring again, the sound deafening in the confines of the room. By the time it stopped, both pairs of buttocks were glowing a deep red.

"How does that feel?"



"We're sorry," said Elizabeth.

"Was that abusive?"

"Yes, it was too severe," said the mother quickly.

The man grunted. "Not by itself, but with the strop after, probably too much."

"You're learning. The only thing is that you're no longer teenagers. You're more than twice as old as your children...."

"No!" cried the couple, but their spanking resumed and lasted for nine more minutes. Both were being paddled simultaneously, but then only Elizabeth's stopped. Roger's ass continued to get swatted for another minute, since he was 48. When it finally stopped, even he was sobbing with relief.

"Oh God, that hurt so badly," said the woman. "My bottom is roasted."

"That's only what you gave your daughter two weeks ago. Adjusted for your ages, of course. Roger gets more because he's older."

"Oh shit!" said Roger. "Now we've got the strop coming!"

"Correct," said the voice. "I believe the usual dose is about 40 lashes?"

"Oh my God, we can't take double that!" screamed Elizabeth.

But then two heavy razor strops were slashing down across their reddened buttocks. They howled, but only got a break when 40 was reached and they were told this was what they gave their children.

"Too much! It's soo severe, especially after a warmup paddling," said Roger desperately.

"Your children are young and felt it much worse," said the voice, and the stropping resumed. The cries of the parents slowly faded through exhaustion, though the thwack of leather on naked flesh never slowed. It was a hundred strokes for the woman, and 112 for the man. Both were shaken and broken when it was over, weeping and admitting that they would change their discipline methods.

The voice moved on to the final man, the blond Debby thought was good looking. He was now pale and nervous, his eyes huge. He'd watched all the other adults suffer terribly, and now he was terrified. He couldn't speak, only wag his jaw, especially when a long thin stick was produced by one of the ninjas.

"Oh please!" said the man. "You can't!"

"You're a widower, Stephen P. Your daughter, Erica, is 17, and her sister, Jenny, is 15. You favor the cane for correction. A worthy implement, but it must be used with caution, especially on children. You were not careful with it, were you?"

"Please!" sobbed the man.

"How many strokes of the cane do you usually give your daughters when you discipline them?"

"It varies," he choked out.

"Give me some examples. Don't forget, I've been monitoring you, so I'll know if you're lying. And the girls can testify, if needed."

The blond man's head slumped forward. "They each get ten every Sunday night," he whispered.

"Whatever for?"

"Just... because. It's a warning spanking, a reminder to be good during the week."

"And if they're not?"

There was a heavy breath. "Then it's worse. At least a dozen, often more. Erica's bigger. She usually gets two dozen."

"And Jenny?"


"You don't think that's too severe?"

"I didn't before, but I do now!" cried the man desperately. "You don't need--"

"But we must," said the voice. "You know we must. I sense fear in your voice, though. You have experienced the cane, haven't you?"

It took him a moment to nod. "Yes. When I was a boy."

"Did it hurt?"


"How many did you receive?"

"Six, usually. Sometimes as many as ten."

"Yet you're much more severe with your daughters."

"They're older." It sounded lame, and he wept a little.

"Now, but you've always been caning them harder than you got. Isn't that true?"

Defeated, the man nodded. "Yes."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know."

"When did your wife die, Stephen?"

"Six years ago."

"Isn't that when you began using the cane on your daughters?"

"How do you know this?" the man cried. "How long have you been watching us?"

"Answer the question, Stephen!"

"Yes, it was after my wife died."

"In your grief, you were angry, weren't you? Did you take out that anger on your girls?"

"I-- I didn't mean to do that. I was just trying to get them to behave."

"With canings every Sunday night."

The ninjas were moving forward, dragging the howling man around so that his butt faced the audience. Debby grinned when she saw gown open and the white bottom exposed. The cheeks were fine, plump but nicely muscled, and beautifully smooth. Across that naked flesh descended a long thin rattan rod, hissing and snapping across the skin.

"Ow! Oh, God!" shrieked the man.

"That's a single stroke, Stephen. That might be an appropriate 'weekly warning' spanking. Perhaps two, or maybe three." The cane lashed down twice more, three pink lines forming across the white cheeks. "Never more than three. Do you understand that?"

"Yes! I'm sorry! It'll never be more than three."

"For girls the ages of your daughters, I would suggest a reasonable dose for a regular spanking is six, or maybe eight strokes of the cane for the eldest."

The cane whirred and cracked, the man yelping. More red lines blossomed. The earlier ones were now a vivid scarlet. Soon eight crimson tracks gleamed.

"Doesn't that seem sufficiently painful to you?" asked the voice.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I was too harsh," said the man.

"You agree that eight is the max for routine correction?"


"On rare occasions, for a serious crime -- say shoplifting or illegal drug use -- a girl Erica's age might deserve a dozen."

"Ow! Oooh, that hurts!" cried Stephen. The lines on his behind multiplied to twelve.

"Yet you gave her two dozen quite often, didn't you? We witnessed it twice in the last month."

"Ah, no more! Mercy!" cried Stephen, but the rod found his butt and doubled the number of marks.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes, it's terrible."

"If two dozen stripes is severe for you, what is it like for your daughter?"

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! I'll never be so strict again, I swear it!"

"Good to hear. But you're a grown man of 42, if your driver's license is correct. Two dozen for your daughter is more like five dozen for you."

"No!" howled the man, but then the caning began in earnest. While one ninja held down Stephen's writhing body, two others, each with a long rattan rod, whipped his fair buttocks. They alternated, one on each side, and the caning was brisk and painful. After every dozen, the speaker would announce the count.

Debby watched in astonishment as every inch of the man's bottom was welted with gory burgundy lines. Some parts of the weals were darker, blue or black. Where the marks intersected, the skin puffed up and darkened, and sometimes split, allowing a trickle or two of bright red blood to emerge.

"Minor scratches," said the voice. "My ninjas are experts and know what they are doing. But children should never be whipped to the blood. Never!"

"I won't, I won't!" sobbed the man. "Please, I've had enough."

"There are still six more to come," said the voice. And the canes whirred and cracked, the man shrieking. Then it was over, Stephen swearing to his daughters he'd be much more lenient with his punishments in the future.

"We shall test that theory," said the voice. "Children, it's time for you to see what your parents have learned. Go to them, and take your spankings."

The adults looked around in confusion. They realized with surprise that their handcuffs were gone, the sneaky ninjas secretly releasing them. On their desk were their respective punishment implements: hairbrush, paddle, strop, and cane.

The children were even more confused. But the voice -- which they now recognized as an authority figure -- guided them. It seemed so calm, so reasonable, that they couldn't disobey. They stood and stumbled forward, going to their parents who embraced them with tears.

"Parents, you must now demonstrate what you have learned. You will each administer a spanking to your children. This will be an ordinary spanking, an example of the kind you will administer in the future. You will do it exactly the way you will in the future.

"Children, I want you to note the severity you receive. If ever you are punished more harshly than this, to an extent you feel it is undeserved, you are to contact me. Your parents will then be severely reprimanded in the same fashion as today. Does everyone understand?"

"We have to spank our kids?" cried Sharon. She was hugging young Adrienne and little Lucas to her. "But they haven't done anything wrong!"

"They know that. This isn't a punishment for anything they've done wrong. It won't truly hurt them. I bet if you ask them, they'll agree to it."

The children were all nodding. "It's okay, Mom," said Adrienne. "Go ahead and spank us. We know you won't do it too hard any more."

The room was soon filled with chaos as Sharon sat tenderly on her chair and drew first her daughter, and then her son, across her lap and spanked them with her hairbrush. She only did it for a few minutes, and it was rather mild, leaving their bottoms pink and warm and stinging, but not blistered. The two children cried, but were smiling as they hugged and thanked their mom.

Near them, the three blond girls were bent over in a row as Carmen used the big paddle on their perfect little rumps. After her own experience, she was mortified at how she'd treated them in the past, and she couldn't bear to give more than a few spanks to the youngest, Lizi, and managing six to the bigger Dori, who didn't seem too bothered.

Debby went over her mom's lap for a couple of minutes with the small paddle, while her father used to strop on Jack. It was only half a dozen lashes before he stopped, though, unable to punish his son any further. Then Debby took her brother's place while he went over Elizabeth's lap for a little paddling. Debby stood there with her pajama bottoms around her knees and winced as the strop stung her terribly. It was only a handful of swipes, though, and then she was wiping away the tears from her face and hugging her father.

On the far right of the room, the beautiful dark-haired Erica, her luscious 17-year-old body bent in half with her broad naked bottom stuck up in the air, gritted her teeth as a thin cane stung her. She got six medium-hard strokes and then her father wanted to stop, but she told him, "No, I'm a big girl. Give me two more, and make them good and hard, like the ones you got."

"But you don't deserve it," he said.

"Yes, I do. Discipline is a gift from a parent to a child."

So he administed two more sharp cuts, and then Jenny, with her small, compact, but perfectly round ass, touched her toes for six crisp slices. They all hugged afterward.

Everyone was hugging, so much that when Jack said, "Hey, where are the ninjas?" they all realized in surprise that they were alone. The black-robed figures had all vanished. Then Debby smelled something. As she was trying to think what it could be, she decided she'd think about it later, after a nap. She was really, really sleepy.

Debby awoke at home, dressed in her own clothes, in her own bed. The memories of the strange experience flooded back to her, but they seemed surreal, like a dream. But when she sat up, her bottom was tender, a touch of soreness from the strop and paddle.

She rushed downstairs and found her parents sitting in the living room, looking dazed. Jack ran in. "Was that real?" he asked.

"I'm sure sore," said Roger.

"Me too," echoed his wife.

Both looked at their children and apologized again, and the family embraced. They saw it was very late, but they were famished, so Jack said he'd go pick up a pizza. He was back in thirty minutes and they all gorged and felt much better.

It was only when she was getting ready for bed that Debby remembered something. She had never been spanked for neglecting her chores! Though she was nervous, she knew it was the right thing to do. She went downstairs and got the paddle and strop and went into her parents' bedroom.

"I... I deserve a spanking," she told them.

They tried to talk her out of it, her father saying she'd been spanked in the room, along with her brother.

"That doesn't count," she said.

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't. That was for something else. A test, or whatever. This one is real."

"It won't be very hard," her mother said.

"It should be hard enough," Debby said. "I was bad and I deserve it. If you love me, you'll spank me."

So they did. Once again the paddle warmed her behind and then her father's strop left her gasping and the tears flowing. It was only ten lashes, though. Nothing compared to past whippings, but good enough. She felt punished. She was tender behind, and she'd certainly remember to behave in the future.

"Thanks, Mom, Dad," she said, kissing them both. Then she crawled into her bed. For the first time in her life, she was happy after a spanking.

The End

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