Cherry Bottoms

11/30/2018

Excerpts from the diary of Tania Ferguson:

“It’s time,” my father announced. It was no surprise, the three of us had been sitting, watching the clock, for almost an hour. It would take 20 minutes to walk to the town hall at the pace a family typically walked at. Less if done at the pace normally I used coming home from school. Much longer if dad wasn’t there to prod me along.

“You carry this,” father commanded as he handed me the two tailed tawse. I reluctantly took it, my buttocks clenching involuntarily as my body remembered past associations with the dreaded whip. It hadn’t been used on me often, but they had been memorable.

My dad ushered mom and I outside, closing the door behind him. He didn’t bother to lock it; no one in Cherry Bottoms locked their doors, the crime rate here is very low. The official name of the town is ‘Cherry Blossoms’, which would be used in any correspondence or in ‘polite’ company. Among us kids, however, we called it Cherry Bottoms, as it was common for someone in town to have one. A cherry red bottom, that is.

“Don’t try to hide that in your skirt!” Dad scolded.

Okay, I knew better! I had been holding the tawse tight against my thigh so that the pleats of my skirt would at least partially hide it. It doesn’t really matter: children don’t usually go to the town hall meetings, so anyone seeing me walking that direction would know that I was either going to get an award or there was going to be public discipline administered. Anyone who knew me, which was most of this small town, would know that I was not likely to get an award. Besides, the word was out.

A block ahead I spotted Sarah and her parents turning onto Main Street. They were going the same place we were, and for the same reason. Even from a block away I could see the tawse that Sarah held between her two hands, held as if she were about to present it as an offering. Every family in Cherry Bottoms owned a tawse; it was required.

I should be able to see Francine and her two moms, but they weren’t in sight. Perhaps they went a bit early. Let me explain this: while I had the traditional father/mother family, Francine had two moms. Lesbian couples were not unusual, although there weren’t many who had children. There were also male-male couples, but I knew of only one of my classmates who had two fathers. Lesbians could have a child that was natural to one of them. Sperm donors weren’t hard to come by, and the church was fairly forgiving for whatever means might have been used.

Gay men had to adopt, and that wasn’t a common thing in this town. Nobody from this town would give up a child for adoption, and the outside communities were reluctant to interact with us. The adoption agencies were reluctant to place kids in a homosexual household anywhere and were even more skeptical of us.

Sarah also had parents of both sexes, but her parents were ‘opposite’: the mom was the dominant, Head of Household while the dad was the submissive. Our town is fairly liberal in that sense: a woman was held in the same regard as a man. It was just that every family had to have a dominant, head of household. Being the submissive was not considered to be demeaning nor did it diminish your basic civil rights. There were only a few places where the difference mattered. For example, only the head of household could speak or vote at the town meetings. Tonight, however, another difference would be very obviously, and painfully, made apparent.

You see, there is a reason that the crime rate in Cherry Bottoms is so low: Parental Discipline. That would be discipline OF the parent, not BY the parent! Whenever a family member does something that reflects poorly on the community, the submissive partner of the union would be punished. It doesn’t matter who in the family was responsible for the action, the submissive adult is punished. Yeah, it can suck being the submissive.

Oh, don’t worry, us kids get it too! The elders are firm believers in the ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ philosophy. The actual punishment of a child is left to the discretion of the parents and is never done in public. For things like talking back or skipping chores a kid might get a slap on the wrist or detention, no different than any other community. On the other hand, if a teacher sends a note home, things are much more serious! A copy of the note goes to the office, and on to the council. Now the conflict extends outside of the family, and justice dictates that the parents must suffer from the actions of their children! So then the submissive parent would get it as well as the kid!

Some of the ‘hard line’ parents take this to the extreme. Like Sally’s parents, as an example. ANYTHING that Sally does that displeases her dad results in her mom getting exactly what Sally got!

My parents are a bit different. Most of the time, whenever I would do anything seriously wrong, dad would spank mom and then leave it to mom to punish me, usually the next day. That was good for me; mom didn’t spank as hard. Occasionally the order was different: mom would spank me and dad would spank her later. These would be for little things, like being rude or speaking when I was supposed to be quiet. My parents weren’t that strict, so I really got away with a lot. Now, Francine’s moms were strict! Poor Francine got the tawse for just about any offense!

There are five approved discipline devices: hand, paddle, tawse, strap and cane. The elders provide ‘guidelines’ as to when each are to be used, but it is basically up to the head of house. The hand can be used any time for any reason and doesn’t need to be recorded in the ‘punishment book’. None of the implements may be used to the face or head, however. The council does NOT approve of anyone ending up with a black eye or split lip.

The ‘official’ paddle is a ping-pong paddle made by ‘Franklin’, sold in a two pack down at the local convenience store. Franklin Sports Company must wonder why the per-capita consumption of ping-pong paddles in Cherry Bottoms is so high! This is dad’s go-to implement. I can tell, as it makes a very loud and distinctive POP when it strikes bare flesh! When I was little, Dad would spank mom in the living room and make me watch. It was maybe five or six years ago that he started doing it in the privacy of their bedroom, but I can hear and I know that sound. The paddle may only be used on the buttocks.

The two tailed tawse hurts a LOT more and can be applied to various body parts. I didn’t get to see, of course, but I am pretty sure that the time I cut class mom got a number of lashes across her breasts. That was in addition to the ones on her ass! I know because I could see the edges of some of the marks in her cleavage. Dad must of given her a hundred lashes, it seemed to go on forever! Mom gave me 16, all on my ass, one for each year of my age at that time.

That was plenty, thank you very much! I felt really bad for mom though and never cut class again. Mom had been pretty strict on that occasion, telling me that I could get in serious trouble with the school and town elders! Other things, that didn’t violate school or town rules, mom was much more understanding and would tell me that it wasn’t a big deal. No, really! Mom has pretty much said that she doesn’t mind the little spankings and sometimes she actually encourages me to ‘indulge in a little civil disobedience’. So I might do something that would earn us a hand spanking or the paddle, but NOT the tawse!

The tawse also leaves the greatest marks, other than the cane, so it is the weapon of choice when the objective is to assure the elders and neighbors that a punishment was done sufficiently well. That hasn’t been an issue in our family. Well, at least until now.

The strap is just awful! It is made of this really heavy leather fastened to a wooden handle, which can only be applied to the buttocks and thighs. I have felt exactly one lash from the strap, and hope I never get another. I think mom gets it a fair amount. NO, not because of me! Other than that one time. You see, mom misbehaves too! I am pretty sure that she got it once for something dad did, but they don’t really tell me these things. Ain’t that the bitch? Dad gets caught speeding down Main Street and it’s mom that gets the strap! The walls are thin and the sound is distinct, a lot different than the pop of the paddle or the swick of the tawse. So are mom’s howls.

If mom’s getting it because of something I have done then dad makes sure that I am right next door in my room so I’ll know just how much mom is suffering. If she is getting it because of something that wasn’t my fault then dad will wait until I am gone. One time I had left for school but came right back because I forgot my project. They hadn’t bothered to close their bedroom door so I could hear a familiar WHAP as soon as I stepped in the front door. Mom was crying out, saying over and over how naughty she was, like he might pardon her if she admitted it. I had to walk past their bedroom door to get to my room, and I couldn’t help but look! Mom was naked, kneeling on the floor, her butt held up high. Her butt was already cherry red! She wasn’t crying though: she is one tough cookie! Dad was naked too, which surprised me. He was just standing over her, letting that strap hang down and rest on her back. I just grabbed my project and skedaddled without them seeing me, but not before I heard another WHAP and howls from mom!

The worst is the cane, or so I’m told. Thank God, we don’t even own one! It can be applied to the palms, buttocks, thighs or soles of the feet. I have heard lots of stories, but I have only seen one case where the cane was used. That was when Tommy Higgins decided it would be a good idea to spray paint a foul word on the wall of the school. That was considered vandalism, which is considered worse than theft.

A special town meeting was called, this time at the high school football stadium so everyone could attend. Even us kids were encouraged to attend, which is most unusual. Mrs. Higgins was strapped down to this frame, then heavy pads were placed over the small of her back and across the back of her knees. To avoid an errant lash from causing serious injury, we were told. Mr. Higgins then applied the cane, directed by the elders. The first three lashes didn’t count: too soft, they said. The next dozen were sickening! Oh, how she howled!

Tommy got his in private, also under the supervision of the elders. I don’t know how many, but Tommy was out of school for a week! Then he had to re-paint the wall. So you don’t see any graffiti in Cherry Bottoms!

You might be wondering why such polices don’t lead to severe abuse. Simple: everything other than a hand spanking must be recorded in the punishment book. A member of the council might call on the family at any time and demand to see it. They will review the crimes and punishments to make sure that no one is too harsh or too lenient. The entries in the book had better match what can be verified other ways! The council doesn’t take kindly when the submissive partner or children have marks that aren’t documented in the book. The time I fell off the swing and bruised my butt my parents had witnesses file a report! My mom had suggested that it would have been easier to invent a reason to beat me. I think that suggesting that they lie really made dad angry because I heard mom getting it later, after they thought I had gone to sleep.

Keep in mind, it can work both ways! One time the council came to Mary’s house to inspect, and apparently neither Mary nor her mom had any marks that would support the claims of punishment supposedly administered the night before. The council made them repeat EVERY punishment recorded in the book since the last inspection, with a witness. It took a month to work through all those, during which time Mary could barely sit!

Dad keeps our punishment book private, only showing it to the council when required. Other families leave it laying on the coffee table for guests to read through. Some are proud of how little discipline their perfect little family requires. Others seem proud of how well they apply discipline.

Many families cheat the system, at least a little, kind of an unwritten rule. Hand spanks don’t need to be logged in the book, so who’s to say if the spanking you are getting today is for something new or a continuation of yesterday’s? This is almost a necessity for large families. I mean, my poor mom gets it at least once a month because of me. Fortunately for mom, I am an only child. The Brewster’s have 6 kids; can you imagine what their mom would go through? As long as they can fly under the RADAR and not attract the attention of the council, Mrs. Brewster can just hand spank the kids and not even mention it to the dad.

My parents don’t work that way. Nope, every time I do even the slightest bad thing it’s “Wait until your father gets home!” then mom and I both get it! Occasionally Mom wants to punish me ‘in the moment’, like when I am talking smart or sassing her. Then she will utter that age old saying “This is going to hurt me more than it is you!” and really whack my bottom! In our case that saying actually is true, as Dad always gives her more than she gave me. If it’s the paddle, one swat per year of age has been the standard, recommended by the elders. The way dad applies that rule is that if I get one for each year of my age, mom gets one for each year of her age!

I believe that I have been treated fairly well, but I think that mom gets a real raw deal! There are times that I have pushed mom too far and then she will grab the paddle and pop me once, real hard! Then later dad will give her like ten swats! Occasionally I really piss her off and she will put me over her knees and hand spank me. Let me assure you; she can hit hard! Then dad will give her double what I got. If I have done something to get as many paddle swats as my age, then mom gets her age in swats.

What I don’t understand is that occasionally mom gets all upset about something trivial, then gets out that paddle and gives me my age in swats, except they are exceptionally light! Like a month ago, she paddled me 17 times lightly because I had left dirty dishes in my room. I mean, getting even 17 of those doesn’t hurt as much as one good swat! That night, mom got 39 swats from dad, and I could tell that they were all HARD swats!

So all that is just typical daily life here in Cherry Bottoms. Tonight is different. Tonight Sarah, Francine and I will each have one of our parents punished in public. The three of us were caught together, so the punishments would be done together. I don’t think it is fair, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Plus, we weren’t the only three involved, we were just the only three that had been caught!

You see, the social life for teens in this town simply sucks! There is the library with ‘story time’, which was fine when I was eight! We can hang out at the Burger Shack until they close at 9:00 PM. The high school has dances fairly often, but the chaperones will break up anyone who dances too close. If they have to tell you a second time they place a balloon between you to force the minimum distance. And don’t even try any of the ‘bump and grind’ moves you see on TV!

If you want any action you have to go to the next town over. They have a teen center there that can be worth going to. Movies, a bowling alley, lots of things. The elders don’t approve, but if you get back before curfew they tend to look the other way. When I got my license, mom would let me borrow her car, and even cover for me with dad. I think dad knows; I mean, he has to see that mom’s car is missing from the garage, right? You know, big empty spot next to where he is parking? No one really believes that you are at the library! But as long as I am home by 10:00 PM it’s more of a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of thing.

That ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy really breaks down when the local constable escorts you home, however! It was only a little past curfew! Okay, it was 11:15, but it was a Saturday, not a school night! We had started off at the teen center, but then we were invited to this party. Half the senior class was at this party! I drove, Sarah and Francine were with me, as usual. I SWEAR TO GOD that I didn’t know that the punch was spiked! I didn’t drink that much! I blew a 0.03 is all! I mean, if I had been an adult a 0.08 would have been okay, but as a minor anything above zero is big time trouble!

I would have still been okay if it hadn’t been for those jerks that tried to follow us home! There I am, just driving down the road, minding my own business, under the speed limit. No problem, except these four guys trying to get us to pull over. They kept pulling up beside us, in the opposite lane mind you, and shouting across to us. “Hey Baby, let me show you a good time!” Stuff like that.

There was NO way I was going to stop, no Sir! I figured that if I could get to Sarah’s house and pull into their driveway everything would be fine. Her dad may be the submissive part of the parents, but he is a BIG dude and could have kicked all their asses! I am sure that plan would have worked if it wasn’t for the patrolman. Yeah, it would have been pretty obvious that something was going on, two cars driving side by side, one on the wrong side of the road!

So he pulls us both over. I am kind of relieved, you know? Those jerks were really starting to scare me. The guys in the other car were from out of town, so they got a ticket for reckless driving and sent home. But it was past curfew, so we are in a little trouble right there. Not so much trouble that would result in a public whipping, but more that I would normally be. I was figuring a couple dozen swats from that ping-pong paddle: I can manage that. Then the officer is giving us the third degree for being out after curfew, ‘cause he knows we are local kids.

We are busted, I know it, so there are going to be some cherry red bottoms as a result. We can deal with that. So I’m all ‘Yes Sir, No Sir’ as polite as can be. We would gotten away with just the curfew violation if that guy hadn’t spilt his drink on Francine at the party. During the questioning, the officer sticks his head all the way into the car window. It reeked of alcohol. Out comes the breathalyzer and we all blow 0.02 and 0.03.

In some communities that wouldn’t be worth the officers time. I browse the Internet, I know what goes on other places! I am pretty sure that there are also places where they would have hauled kids like us into juvi and thrown the book at them, which doesn’t seem right either. In Cherry Blossoms, we were escorted home, the officer spoke to our parents, and then it was reported to the council.

‘Conduct unbefitting of a citizen’ was the ruling. Since the conduct was in public, the punishment will be in public.

So now here we are, making our way to the town meeting. Mind you, for most of the town meetings, only the council members will be there. Even in Cherry Bottoms, a town meeting isn’t going to make the top ten list of fun things to do. Frequently there will be some individual that has business with the council, so they will show up. Occasionally there will be some controversial issue that will attract a number of spectators, like when the water tower was being upgraded. Whenever there is something that has to be put to a vote, such as a new tax, all the heads of households will be encouraged and expected to attend, although a fair number abstain.

Tonight, it seemed that all the adults were heading to the town hall! When there is a punishment on the agenda the town meetings do make the top ten list! Normally, a town meeting is DULL! As far as I am concerned, it rates right behind watching paint dry. Public discipline, however, turns it into a spectator event. It is a fairly common occurrence for someone to be disciplined, but to have three on one night makes getting down to the town hall worthwhile! Word travels fast on things like this. I swear that it is like the PTA call list: one person calls two people, who each call two more, and so on. The closer we got the thicker the crowd got, and the more obvious the smirks and finger pointing. With this crowd the balconies will be full and it will be standing room only.

There were seats reserved in the first row for my dad, Sarah’s mom and one of Francine’s moms. The three of us kids, along with our other parent, had to stand against the wall off to the side of the elder’s, on full display. It took forever to get everyone to quiet down and get the meeting started. As always, there was a prayer to start the meeting. Then the secretary did the roll call, even though it was obvious that all 7 council members were present. Everything strictly according to ‘Roberts Rules Of Order’, you understand!

I haven’t gone to many of these meetings, and have considered them all to be too long and boring. This one seemed especially long. The secretary reads the minutes of the last meeting, which seems to take almost as long as the last meeting! The treasurer stands and gives her report. Old business, where the same old things get rehashed and then tabled for the next meeting. There are items on the old business agenda that have been there for years! Then it’s new business. It was the last item of ‘new business’ that I had been dreading.

First, officer Clark was called up to give his account of the facts.

“At approximately 11:16 on Saturday night I observed two vehicles traveling toward town on Main Street. These vehicles were being operated in an unsafe manner, including driving on the wrong side of the road. I executed a traffic stop and pulled both vehicles safely to the shoulder.”

“One vehicle contained two young adult males and two minor males. This was the vehicle observed traveling for an extended period in the wrong lane. Vehicle registration was proper, driver licensed. They were from out of town so I issued them a citation for reckless driving and directed them to leave town immediately, which they did.”

“The other vehicle contained three minor females. The vehicle was properly registered to a local town resident. The driver explained that they were being harassed by the other vehicle and thanked me for rescuing them. Considering that they had been polite and courteous I considered letting them off with a warning regarding the curfew. That was until I noticed the smell of alcohol coming from the vehicle.”

“A standard field sobriety test was issued to all three females. They executed the physical test without problem. It was explained to me that the smell of alcohol was coming from the clothing of one of the females, that a drink had been spilled on her by someone else.”

“I then administered a breathalyzer test. The results were 0.02, 0.03, and 0.02. Considering that they were minors this was considered a failure. As they did not seem to be impaired, I allowed them to continue, escorting them to each of their homes where I spoke with the parents.”

“After further investigation it was established that the minor females imbibed what they thought was a fruit punch. Once they realized it was spiked with alcohol they abstained.”

“Thank you, officer. Fine job. Do the parents wish to say anything in defense of their children?” the elder asked.

It just burned me that my dad had the opportunity to say something, but I wasn’t given an opportunity. I mean, why can’t we have any say at all? I suppose that it is better that I didn’t, as I would probably have said something really stupid and just made things worse! The other two parents declined, but to my surprise, my dad stood up.

“Thank you, your Honor,” my dad began. I never understood this protocol; why was Dad thanking him?

“I apologize for my daughter’s behavior. I would like to thank Officer Clark for his diligent patrol of our roads that keep us all safe. I am quite grateful that he came to my daughter’s rescue with respect to the boys that were harassing them. Given how seriously this situation could have turned out, I feel that any punishment meted out as a result has been well earned.”

“Agreed,” the lead elder replied. “We are all fortunate that there was no injury to person or property, things could have ended much worse. We must, however, maintain discipline and protect the good name of our community. Can we have the punishment frames brought in now?”

I gasped, Francine sobbed and Sarah shrieked. In most cases, a punishment involves having the submissive parent bend over the edge of a table and the dominant partner administer the appropriate number of swats. Twenty was a very common number. Sometimes, for more severe infractions, there were 50 swats. Most people could tolerate 50 swats of the paddle, and many could manage that many from the tawse. The punishment frames were used when the strap or cane was to be used, or the number of tawse lashes exceeded 50.

I want to go on record saying that I was very remorseful! If I could have taken that whipping instead of mom I would have certainly done so! That said, I have to admit that I actually felt proud watching mom walk right up to the frame without any show of fear. Francine’s mom had to be coaxed, and even Sarah’s dad balked. My mom just strode right up and bent over the frame, allowing her hands and feet to be secured.

It is required for all strikes of the tawse, strap or cane to be applied to bare skin. The main reason is so that any tears in the skin will be noticed immediately and dealt with. It may not end the punishment, but at least the target spot can be adjusted slightly. An associated reason is that if clothes are in place and the skin is torn cloth fibers can be forced into the wound, which can lead to festering and infection.

Thus, when given a choice, the person to be punished will choose clothing that best accommodates the baring of the buttocks. For women that is usually a dress. In this case, one of the victims was a man, who chose to wear a kilt. The dress/kilt would be either pinned up or tucked into the waistband. Most women will choose to wear thong underwear, which may be left in place, as long as the entire buttocks are exposed. My mom wore a simple wrap skirt, which she completely removed before stepping up to the frame. She wore no underwear at all. I recently came to believe that my mom uses such tactics to seduce my dad in an attempt to shorten the punishment. It seemed to work, based on the sounds I have heard coming from their bedroom right after a spanking. That approach certainly wasn’t going to work here!

I watched in a mixture of dread and fascination as the three parents were strapped down. As we were standing off to the side, we saw our parents more in profile, while the throngs of spectators got the full ‘rear view’. There was considerable amount of people shifting in their seats and guys adjusting how their pants fit.

“The whipping will continue until we, the council, decides for it to stop. Commence!”

My dad’s blow was the first to land: hard and sharp, the whip making a distinct smacking sound. Mom cried out softly, more of a quick gasp. Normally, when dad is to use the whip, he starts with a hand spanking warm up, which helps mom prepare. While adding more spanking to the overall punishment might increase the long-term pain, it eases the short-term shock. No such warm up today though.

The other two dominants lagged by a few seconds. I would swear that Francine’s mom wasn’t hit nearly as hard as my mom, yet she screamed like there was no tomorrow! Even Sarah’s dad cried out and carried on for several seconds.

The next set of lashes were better synchronized, and perhaps more even with respect to intensity. Again, Francine’s mom drowned out any noise the other two made. A brief pause as all three dominants prepared, then another set of lashes, another scream.

The pace increased a bit as the three dominants established a rhythm and synchronized. None of them wanted to get ahead, which would result in their partner getting more strokes than the others. Nor did they want to fall behind and be accused of lacking. Likewise, the strength of each swat was adjusted so that it at least appeared that they were all being punished the same. You wouldn’t know it from the way Francine’s mom was crying, however.

Given that the frames had been brought out I was not surprised when the count of 50 was reached and there was still no call to stop. I lost count somewhere around 75, as I was distracted by Francine’s mom’s sobbing joined by Sarah’s dad’s wails. I am pretty sure that count exceeded 100, but I couldn’t tell you for sure by how much.

“STOP!” the elder cried. The room was eerily quiet, except for the sobbing coming from two of the punishment frames. From where I stood I couldn’t see my mom clearly, but it didn’t look as if she were carrying on like the other two. I could see her chest rise and fall fairly quickly, indicating that she was breathing hard. Then something happened that I hadn’t seen before: the townsfolk applauded! It started off just one guy in the back, but then everyone picked it up.

One of the council members released the parents from the frame. My mom stood up, gave dad a hug and a kiss and bravely walked back to stand beside me against the wall, except this time facing the wall. Francine’s mom had to be helped, and Sarah’s dad staggered. All three were made to stand such that their exposed buttocks were on display. Francine was trying to console her mom, who turned and put her head on her daughter’s shoulder and just sobbed! Sarah tried to comfort her dad, but he just scowled and brushed her hand away. I put my hand on mom’s shoulder, and she turned to me and smiled! She actually smiled!

There were two more items of ‘new business’, which hadn’t been on the agenda, then a motion to adjourn. Afterward there were refreshments and a lot of milling about. We continued to stand against the wall, us three kids facing out, and the three parents facing the wall. Personally, I would have preferred facing the wall as it was awkward to keep catching glances of the townsfolk.

“I’m so sorry!” I whispered.

“Ssshh!” mom whispered back. Talking at this point is one of those grey areas: they might punish you for it, they might not. Better to just keep quiet.

Mom was in a surprisingly good mood as we walked home. Once we were released from our position she had put her wrap skirt back on, wincing as the fabric dragged across her inflamed skin. The walk back was somewhat slower, mainly because of the continuous embrace my mom and dad held. The last I saw of Francine’s mom she was still sniffling and walking very stiffly. Mom was actually laughing and would occasionally poke at dad, a playful habit of hers. She yelped quite loudly when dad swatted her after a poke, which was a playful habit of his. That settled her down for only a couple of minutes. There were three such swats and yelps during the walk.

When we got home, I was told to go to bed immediately, which I figured was part of my punishment. I was also expecting to be grounded forever and that I would be getting my whipping the next day. To tell you the truth, I was hoping dad would do it, and to give me exactly what he gave mom. Certainly nothing less! I felt bad, and wanted to be square with mom. I was terrified of getting that whipping, but there was something else that I just can’t explain. Not something bad, this was, well, I just don’t have words for it.

I put my nightgown on and got in bed. I had intended to go to sleep like I was told, but my mind was too worked up. So when the strange noises started coming from my parents’ room I went over to the wall that we shared and put my ear to it.

I swear that I am NOT making any of this up!

“You’ve already been spanked!”

“But that was an hour ago!” Mom urged.

“I am NOT going to spank your ass any more tonight!” Dad insisted.

“Then the tits! Do the tits!”

When mom and I talk, or I over hear her conversations with others, she calls body parts are called what they are. Breasts, buttocks, vagina, and penis. When mom is getting punished, it is like she is a different person, and the terms are tits, ass, pussy and cock. The tone of her voice is something that I can’t put down on paper. When I read back what I have written it sounds like I am saying that she was pleading for him to stop, but when I was listening I got the opposite feeling.

“OW! Oh oh, OW! Oh yes, OW! Oh no, not the pussy! Okay, maybe one. OOWWWWW. Oh, oh, okay, maybe one more. OWWW! OWWW! IEEYYA! More on the tits! OWWWWW! The tits I said! OWWWWW! No, the pussy can’t take any more! OWWWWW!”

I stopped listening at this point and went back to my bed, but I could still faintly hear it. It went on for several minutes; a distinct smack of the tawse, and then pleading that didn’t really sound like pleading. Then there were sounds that I thought was someone choking and coughing. Then the rhythmic squeak of bed springs.

I am ashamed to tell you that I was naughty by myself that night. I would normally be embarrassed to admit that I do it, it’s just something private, but we all do it, right? I find myself doing that a lot lately. That night I was more than embarrassed: I was ashamed because it was watching my mom get it that made me want to do it!

I am not going to give you the details of what mom did to me the next day. Yes, damn it, it was mom! She let me off way too easy! I tried to tell her how sorry I was and that I would never do it again, but she just shushed me told me it was okay. That didn’t make me feel better!

“I know you are a good kid,” she told me. “Sometimes, fate plays tricks on us. You need to get out, explore a bit, and sow a few wild oats. Just don’t do anything that would earn the cane, please?”

“Sure mom,” I replied.

Sarah told me that she got her ass paddled pretty good, but no restrictions at all. Francine isn’t supposed to hang out with us anymore. For like, ever! She didn’t say what else happened but I could tell that she wasn’t sitting very comfortably for a few days.

So, a month later all my restrictions were off. We went back to the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell” mode again, although I was very careful with curfew!

I want to take this opportunity to dispel a myth: Cherry Blossoms is NOT a cult! Yes, we are religious and you had better attend Sunday services on a regular basis! But none of our elders claims to be a prophet or to ever have talked to God. Marriage before the age of 18 is not allowed, and a man may not marry a woman less than half his age.

Officially, a man may only have one wife, but with approval of the council, a man may take additional women under ‘guardianship’. It is NOT a sin to have carnal knowledge of a woman taken under guardianship, and any children begot from this union will have equal rights with his other children. There aren’t many instances of this, the usual case being when a woman is widowed and needs someone to administer the expected discipline.

Our elders don’t prohibit us from learning about the outside world. Indeed, we regularly get school assignments that require us to do research on the Internet. We study history and civics from the same textbooks as other schools. Families go on vacations to the same places you might go, kids are sent off to the same summer camps. No, we’re not a cult; I suppose we are closer to being a commune.

Funny; I used to think that living in Cherry Bottoms was the worst thing ever! We are a close knit community, which means you can’t get away with anything! It’s okay when you are really little, but once you become a teen it sucks, especially once I developed a bit of empathy for mom. I mean, I am pretty sure that parents in other communities aren’t punished for their kid’s actions! I believe that even the kids of other communities aren’t spanked and whipped like we are here!

But lately I have been thinking that this place ain’t so bad. I turned 18 last month, and now graduation is just weeks away. I used to say that I would be out of this town the day I turned 18! A year ago I backed off that a bit and promised mom that I would stay at least until graduation. The elders will allow you to leave at that point with their blessing, IF you are 18 and have graduated, so that’s not a problem. They will even allow you to come back if you haven’t done anything to bring disgrace on the town. Sally Fredrickson is an example; she left and came back two years later, and has been living here happily ever since. Billy Thorton, however, has been permanently banned.

Mom had been okay with my plan. Heck, she even bought me a set of luggage for my birthday! I’ll have a high school diploma, a car and set of luggage, so I can go anywhere I want! The problem is that I think that I want to stay here. I can’t really explain why. The for sure part of it is that I love my mom and dad and want to stay close, but there is something else that I can’t describe. Crazy, huh?

If I stay I will likely be married by summer’s end. It is standard to get married by the time you are twenty, unless you are going to college or have joined the military, which is common for the guys. The council will make ‘recommendations’ regarding who might be a suitable husband for an eligible girl. It seems that my recent past has convinced them that I would need an ‘established and strict’ husband, so they are recommending these guys that are like 25 years old! I mean, they are ancient!

I can refuse, up to a point. If I reject all their recommendations and can’t find a suitable one on my own then things might become very difficult for me, and I might be forced to leave. I have decided that I don’t want that, I do want to stay. This really is a good place to raise a family, and that is important to me now.

So daddy has been trying to help out. He arranged a date with Peter Slabodin, the son of one of his co-workers. He is 23, so not quite as bad as the others. He is pretty good looking, has a good job, and even has his own place. We have been on three dates and I kind of like him! He is funny, he actually listens, and is just fun to be around.

On our last date we talked about discipline. I have to admit that I was the one who brought it up. We talked about how we were punished, and how our moms were punished by our dads. We are very similar in that area. Then I asked how he would punish. At first he was talking about the kids we might have. Then I asked him ‘what about me?’ Oh, there wasn’t any chance that it was going to go the other way, like Sarah’s parents! Nope! I am okay with getting my ass smacked, but I don’t want to do it to anyone else! I am not sure that I will be able to spank my kids, so I might be just like my mom!

He told about how when he was little his grandmother watched over him and that she would regularly give him a spanking ‘for all the things she didn’t know about’! How unfair is that? He seemed okay with it. I started getting this really queer feeling when he told me how he would put me over his knee on a regular basis, just for ‘maintenance’.

I swear, I started feeling just like when I am being really naughty all by myself at night. I mean, I got wet between my legs and soaked my panties! I am glad that I was wearing a skirt instead of pants as I probably would have soaked through crotch of the pants as well! When we got up to leave I had to wipe the seat down with my napkin!

So then I asked him, hypothetically speaking, what he would do if I was naughty and doing the ‘solitary sin’. Let’s just say that his response made me actually do the solitary sin that night. And the next night. Okay, every night!

In fact, I am getting a bit wet right now as I write this. Oh, God, I am doomed!