Two spankings for Barbara

Barbara was yet another one of the nurses that I went out with in the mid to late 1970s. She worked at Hope Hospital in Salford, stood about 5' 5" in her stockinged feet and was ever so slightly overweight. This was something that troubled her, but it was not a matter that worried me. Partly because I find chubby females rather more of a delight than their scrawnier sisters, but also because bouncy girls tend to have larger bottoms, and when it comes to matters disciplinary that is a decided plus.

I was about to give Barbara a not too serious spanking one evening, We had been playing and she had started to tease me. I took it in good part but warned her that if she did not stop it I would smack her bottom. She had decided to carry on, so I was happily engaged in putting her across my knee and raising her skirt when I detected real fear in her voice as she felt my fingers go into the waistband of her panties.

The struggles became intense and given that she knew that we were only playing I thought this very strange indeed. Barbara twisted her head around and pleaded with me, with genuine fear in her voice, not to take her knickers down. Finding all this very curious indeed I decided to sit her up as I thought that there might be a story worth hearing.

Barbara had been spanked and spanked very soundly indeed by her father roughly two years earlier. She would have been about 23 when that had happened and clearly her father's action had left a bigger impression on her mind than it had on her bottom. It had not been the first time that he had spanked his daughter, but she had not been over daddy's knee for some years and had begun to think that she was to old for that treatment. Coming home late and answering her father in an insolent manner had taught her the error of her ways. By the time I met her she was not afraid of a spanking per se, but she was terrified of the lowering of the knickers that preceded such a correction.

This was the first time that a spanking tale had been related to me and I often questioned Barbara about the event. Over the years since then I have invariably asked females if they have ever been taken in hand, and have often been surprised and delighted by the stories that they have told me.

Barbara's father had spanked her in the family home, as her mother bustled around clearing up the plates from the dinner table. Her knickers had been stripped down to below her knees and she had felt her father's hand across her bottom, then down about two hand smacks along her thigh. That remorseless hand had then returned to her bottom via the other thigh before repeating the process all over again - and again!

Following this account I could not allow Barbara to escape unscathed that night. I put her back across my knee, lifted her knee-length skirt around her waist and pulled down her light blue panties. I cocked my leg over her bucking thighs, as low down as I could manage, just as her father had two years before. Holding her hands in my left hand, I spoke to her quietly but firmly:

"Barbara, I decide when you are to be spanked, I decide the severity of the spanking and I decide if you get to keep your panties on or not."

Then I administered the spanking. It was harder than I had intended before she had told me her story, but nowhere near as hard as the correction that her father had administered. Still, I smacked her right cheek, then two smacks on her right thigh, then a couple on the left, before returning to the left cheek and repeating the procedure all over again.

Barbara's father was a man to admire and emulate.