Added: Kawanda Bloodworth - Date: 13.02.2022 15:03 - Views: 20450 - Clicks: 9229
Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements. I was spanked any of times when I was growing up. I'm going to share the last of those spankings with you.
It happened in July of the summer after I graduated from High School.
I was eighteen years and three months old. There's no reason why I should have been spanked and no reason I had to put up with it. I'm a little fuzzy about the incident for which I was punished. It's strange but typical.
Often a spanking overshadows the events that led up to it to the point where I don't remember them clearly.
I remember the punishment but not the "cause". We had been at my aunt's house for lunch. Somewhere along the way, I managed to disagree with my parents about something, I don't remember what. It was just the four of us and it never occurred to me that my parents would get upset about it.
It wasn't like I was yelling at them or anything. The problem was that my Aunt agreed with me and said so. When that happened, my mom went cold. We left pretty soon afterwards. I went straight from my Aunt's to my job in one car while mom and dad Spanked to tears stories the other one home. A few hours later I drove home, having temporarily forgotten about the "argument". Walking in the back door, I immediately entered the kitchen. They were waiting for me.
They'd probably heard me in the driveway. Mom was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, facing the right side of the room and Dad was standing next to her. It was instantly clear that they were planning on spanking me, right then and there. Dad was equally stern but quieter. For a split second, I thought about telling them "no" and giving them a piece of my mind - but maturity kicked in. I decided to just cooperate, bend over and take the spanking that they were obviously there to deliver.
I didn't want to cause a scene. It hurt my feelings that they felt they needed both of them to do it, as if I was going to kick and scream or something. I hadn't done that since I was Spanked to tears stories. No, I walked over to her and was prepared to lie across her lap without any trouble. As humiliating as it was going to be, it was the end of a long day and I didn't have the energy to fight with them. Of course, I knew that I didn't deserve it and that they had no right to do it, but amazingly enough, I loved them and I was willing to go along - because they wanted me to.
After all, it wasn't like I had never been spanked - although it had been at least two years. I wasn't afraid. I knew I could take it. When I got within range, Mom caught me by surprise, grabbing my left wrist and pulling it across her to her left side. I lost my balance and tripped over her lap, landing on her thighs. My chest was hanging over the side of the chair and I was looking at the floor. They started talking about me as if I wasn't there. I quickly put out my hands to catch myself and they hit the floor.
Most of my weight was on them and it felt like I was doing some kind of weird push up. My boobs, of course, rode up toward my face, although they were "tight" enough back then that they didn't smother me. The position was very awkward for me and it was intended that way.
They didn't allow me one shred of dignity. Dad still had hold of my ankles and pushed my legs down toward the floor, jackknifing me. The blood was rushing to my head and it was already a little hard to breathe. I needed both hands to keep from falling over so I couldn't use either of them to block the spanking. Not that I was going to, but they were making sure of it. It was humiliating to be treated as if I couldn't hold still for a spanking or that I would struggle and fight them.
If they had simply asked, I would have bent over whatever they wanted and would probably have pulled down my jeans and underwear for them. Instead, they missed the chance to have me submit to them voluntarily. That was their loss.
I relaxed and reminded myself that it was going hurt but that I could take it. Long ago I had learned that being scared made a spanking a lot more torturous. If I was afraid of it, afraid of how much it was going to hurt, I would be terrified and the terror was a lot worse than the physical pain. I thought to myself that the home of my Aunt, my godmother, was hardly "in public". It didn't matter.
It started almost immediately. The first spank was a bit of a shock, even though I was expecting it. It was a hard slap and it stung. She continued to spank me hard with her open hand on my jeans, as fast and as hard as she could, on the middle of my bottom. Dad held me firm. It hurt. It stung like hell, but I wasn't scared. I knew it would hurt and I knew how much it would hurt. I let the pain flow through me and didn't cry. As long as I didn't let the pain "get to me", I was OK. I wouldn't panic. The terror wouldn't set in. I could take it That was the problem.
For them, the whole point of the spanking was to get me to cry - to scream and beg for mercy. In their minds, I was supposed to humiliate myself. Somehow, I had hoped that we could avoid that particular aspect of my punishment this time around. Re-arranging me on her lap, Mom started spanking on the tops of my thighs and on the "crease".
It hurt more. In fact she was now hitting me on the most sensitive part of my bottom. The pain of each spank demanded my attention but it still didn't make me cry. It was a dilemma. If I let the terror get to me, it would be awful, but if I didn't cry He might pull my jeans and underwear down.
He might even use his belt, which he had threatened several times but done only once before. Even that didn't frighten me enough to cry. I tried to cry and I couldn't. I wasn't able to give in to the fear without surrendering to the panic. I closed my eyes. I needed to let my emotions get to me. Spanked to tears stories other than fear. It didn't take long to realize that my other hurt feelings would do the trick.
I felt betrayed, unloved, lonely. I hated what they were doing to me, the way they were humiliating me. No, I didn't cry from the spanking, but I did start crying. The sadness did it. Sadness that my parents really didn't care about me, didn't respect me, didn't love me; that I was alone in the world.
That got to me. It was enough to make me cry but not send me into a panic. The tears flowed. The sobs and crying followed quickly. Once I got started, the spanking itself helped it along. I knew she wasn't going to last too long with that kind of punishment. She was a fool, and so was he. With that spanking, they were breaking whatever tenuous bonds we may have had left between us. They didn't let up once "they" got me crying.
They just kept hurting and hurting and hurting, holding me down at both ends. It went on for a long time. She was enjoying it. She began to alternate sides, a few slaps on each side before switching to the other. That was another "traditional" part of my punishments. Eventually, my nose started to run and my sinuses filled up from the crying. Between sobs, I cried, "I can't breathe! Don't ever let it be said that it was all Mom's fault. He was no bystander. He was just as bad as she was. That particular day, she hit me and he held me down for it.
But even when he didn't help out, it all happened with his blessing. I didn't care any more about breathing. What was the point if my own parents didn't even love me? It wasn't just this one spanking and it wasn't only the spankings either. I had been trying all my life to live up to their impossible expectations and be a "good Spanked to tears stories whenever I could.
But that day, I stopped caring. The spanking lasted a while longer. The rhythm of sharp thumping slaps kept time with my body being bounced forward and back. And my bottom really hurt. It was getting sore from the prolonged attack. Then she said, "ten more". She took her time; savoring the finishing touch, slowly hit me with ten of the hardest hand-spanks of my life to that point.Spanked to tears stories
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