Shameful or Painful

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2020 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.

Shameful or Painful

(***, MF/f, Severe, non-consensual spanking, paddling, strapping)

A strict family spanks in public. (Approximately 1,459 words. Originally published 2020-05.)

At the Reynolds’ home, punishments were considered sacred. If you were due one, you got it, regardless of where you were or who was around. This meant that over the years Stacy had been spanked in front of aunts and uncles, cousins, friends, her pastor, and even complete strangers. She’d been subject to public spankings in parks, restaurants, gas stations, and malls.

She’d quickly learned that her mother’s hairbrush and father’s belt hurt enough without adding to the spectacle with an audience. She hated spankings of any kind, but ones at home in the privacy of her bedroom were by far preferable to the shame of having her bare bottom reddened where others could watch!

By the time Stacy was in her teens, she was always well-behaved in public. Even at home, when friends or visitors were around, she was an absolute angel. This didn’t mean she was really that good -- just that she’d figured out not to get in trouble when others were there to see her punished.

For many misdemeanors this wasn’t too difficult. When Stacy had a bad report card, for instance, she always took it to her parents in private so that she controlled the unveiling and subsequent punishment session. She still got the spanking, but at least no one else had to see it.

Of course, there were always little things out of her control. Not the behavior -- that was her own fault -- but the timing of getting caught. Like once, when she 14 and had neglected her chores, her mother discovered the problem while Stacy’s friend, Veronica, was there. Stacy was horribly embarrassed to have to take down her jeans and panties and get a long hard hairbrush spanking over her mom’s lap while her friend saw everything.

As always in such situations, Stacy initially felt the shame most of all and thought it was the worst, but as the spanking went on and on, the pain soon became her main focus. By the end she was howling and sobbing and begging like a three-year-old.

Stacy did her best, but it still seemed like two or three times a year her timing would be off or she’d get some bad luck and wind up giving others a show. The older she got, the worst this seemed, so that in her late teens Stacy would have done just about anything to avoid a public display. She rarely had friends over (she went to their homes), didn’t have birthday parties, and dreaded the holidays when relatives visited.

When Stacy was 17 and she was feeling most grownup, she earned herself a doozy of a spanking. She’d gotten behind in social studies, a class required for graduation, and hadn’t written an essay that needed to be turned in on Friday. Desperate, she found one online and bought it, downloading it to her computer and changing a few items to make it her own.

Naturally, she was found out. Her teacher was suspicious as the writing style was nothing like her own, using sophisticated words Stacy didn’t know. A bit of researched turned up the identical essay online and Stacy was busted. She sobbingly confessed and begged for another chance, terrified that if she failed the class she wouldn’t graduate.

Her teacher had pity and agreed that if Stacy could write her own essay that weekend and turn it in on Monday, she’d get a maximum credit of a C, but that would be a passing grade. Stacy agreed. The only problem was that a note explaining this whole mess had to be signed by her parents. Stacy knew she’d be in for a terrific spanking, and since her Uncle Jack was staying with them that weekend, he’d get to see it. That bothered her more than the spanking itself.

So Stacy decided to forge her parents’ signature on the note. She practiced in between writing her essay and by Sunday she could mimic both their handwriting styles and signed the paper. The next day she handed in her essay and the parental notification form, which were both accepted. Stacy had escaped free and clear!

Of course, if you’re reading this, you already know that isn’t true. Why else would I bring it up if it wasn’t disaster for Stacy’s pretty teenage bottom? That’d be like the 10 o’clock news doing a special report on an uneventful plane flight!

Sure enough, Stacy’s chickens came home to roost in the most uncomfortable way. This happened a few weeks later, just prior to graduation. Several of Stacy’s relatives were in town for the event, the extended family proud of their pretty graduate. Stacy was so busy getting ready, going to parties, celebrating, and having fun, that she forgot all about the essay and the forgery. She should have known that her folks talking to Mrs. Davis, her social studies teacher, was a bad idea, but missed the event when her parents went to her school to handle paperwork and other graduation details.

Thus the news came out and that evening, the day before her big day, Stacy arrived home to find her whole family waiting. The expression on her parents’ faces was Not Good. Worse was the leather strap and wooden paddle sitting on coffee table in front of them. Stacy stopped dead in her tracks, mouth ajar in horror, her cheeks flushed with shame at the presence of her aunts and uncles and cousins.

"Plagiarism? Cheating? Forging our signatures?" roared her father, and suddenly Stacy knew what this was about. She tried to weasel her way out, begged for mercy, at least a delayed punishment (“Spank me on Monday, please!”), but her parents were too upset to grant her any kind of reprieve.

"Don’t worry," her father said. "You’ll be getting another spanking on Monday. You’ve committed too many crimes to just get off with one spanking."

"Oh God," moaned Stacy. She argued as much as she dared, which wasn’t much, for she could see her parents were furious at her behavior and she couldn’t really disagree. She did deserve spanking, but did it have to be in front of her boy cousins?

She moaned again as her jeans went down, blushing as her skimpy panties, positively glued to her ass, weren’t skimpy enough and had to end up around her ankles with her pants. Then she was over her mom’s lap and the small wooden paddle -- even worse than the hated hairbrush -- was quickly applied to her round, squirming butt.

Stacy’s spankings were always long and hard, for her parents were thorough and strict, but this one took the cake. Her mother plum wore out that board on her ass, paddling her steadily for nearly 15 minutes. She only paused a few times to test the temperature of her daughter’s butt with her hand, deciding it could use more and continuing with the hard wallops.

Meanwhile, seated on the sofas and chairs were Stacy’s relatives. Her aunts and uncles watched with grim satisfaction, the males admiring the teen’s mature form, while her cousins giggled and gawked. They weren’t immune from physical punishment themselves, but it was still thrilling to see a big grownup girl like Stacy get her plump behind blistered.

When said rump was the color of raw hamburger, it was her father’s turn to attack those buns with his belt. He whipped them thoroughly, extending his target down the back of her legs almost to her knees. The whipping lasted nearly as long as her paddling, leaving Stacy so sore she actually forgot she had an audience. She was up leaping around shamelessly, her jeans and panties kicked off in her agony, hands clutching her buns and squeezing them like plums.

When she finally heard one of her boy cousin’s gasp she opened her eyes and realized she was standing right in front of him dancing lewdly and showing him her neatly trimmed front. He was about 12 and had never seen a naked woman up close, so his education took a big leap that day.

Unfortunately for Stacy, her folks didn’t see this as a positive. Her mother scolded her for intentionally "showing off" and being a "slut." Her father was more blunt: "Since you clearly haven’t learned modesty, we’ll repeat this spanking next Friday night!"

"That’s in addition to Monday’s spanking," said her mother. "And there will be a few more after that, since you’ve been so naughty."

All Stacy could think was that at least her relatives would be gone by then. That wasn’t much cheering up, but it was something.

It wasn’t until later that night that she remembered that Friday evening was when her pizza party was scheduled... almost her whole senior class was coming!

The End