Choose Your Own Spanking
18

(****, ?/?, Edgy, Could contain anything.)

This is an interactive story where you get to choose how the story progresses. (Approximately 536 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

You pretend that nothing's wrong when your parents arrive home. Your Dad is home first. He changes clothes and heads out to the backyard and climbs into the hammock with a cold beer. Mom arrives a half-hour later and starts cooking supper.

You go out back and are chatting with your father when there's scream from the house and your mother rushes out. Dad leaps up and runs into the house and you follow slowly, your heart in your throat. "She's found it," you think.

Your mother is standing by the door of your father's study, a small water bucket in her hand, her mouth open in horror. Your dad rushes inside and she joins him. A few minutes later your dad calls you, and it's not a friendly call. Your feet seem to weigh 20 pounds each as you walk down that corridor.

"How could you!" shouts your father.

"My drapes!" says your mother.

"You're in for the licking of your life!" roars your father.

"Two of them!" adds your mother.

You just keep getting smaller and smaller and feeling worse and worse. A part of you just wishes they'd hurry up and get the whipping over with, but mostly you are afraid.

"Go to your room and undress," orders your dad. "Take _everything_ off. Everything!"

"I'm going to get the paddle," says your mother, leaving.

"And I'm fetching the strap!"

You are left alone. You hurry to your room and strip, your hands shaking, your bottom already quivering in terror. You turn and look at your bare ass in the mirror and wince at the thought that the pale skin will be red and welted in just a few minutes.

The door opens and it's your mother holding the large wooden cutting board you know so well. Without a word she points to the bed and you bend over the footboard, bracing yourself with your outstretched arms. Wham! The stinging is ferocious and your buttocks quiver in spite of yourself. Wham! Wham! Wham!

"Oooh, please," you moan. "No so hard! It hurts, it really hurts!"

"Shut your trap!" scolds your mother and proceeds to warm your butt soundly. When your ass is toasted and pulsing and your bedspread is soaked with your tears, she stops. "Here comes your father, with the strap."

You goan and beg for mercy but your father is there, scolding you and telling you that you have felt nothing yet. You find that hard to believe until the thick leather strap wraps around your legs and you scream bloody murder. It feels like each stroke is taking the skin off the back of your thighs. You howl and wiggle and weep in the purest of misery.

Your father is nothing but thorough, strapping your legs and buttocks a good long time, never stopping until you are covered with thick red welts and have completely run out of tears.

"I hope you have learned your lesson," he says sternly, and leaves. You lie face down on the bed and cry quietly, your buttocks blazing.

"I think I learned my lesson," you murmur quietly to yourself. "I think I learned it _real_ good!"