EMBARRASSED. SHAMED. DEGRADED. DEMEANED. DISGRACED. HUMILIATED. MORTIFIED.
That’s how I felt nine years ago as a 16-year old teenager from having my bare bottom spanked numerous times by my stepdad.
And that doesn’t even get into the other emotions it fed: anger, guilt, hate…
But from having it happen first in front of my younger brother and his 12-year old playmate (a boy I regularly babysat – making those feelings intensify greatly) to the spankings I got a week later on full display in front of not only my younger brother (who was present the whole time) but also in front of my older brother, his girlfriend and two friends of theirs from college who unexpectedly walked into the house during my punishment, my humiliation and shame complete, I also felt new emotions:
Resignation, helplessness and total submission.
As that evening’s spanking began, I was told from that now on, that is how I would be punished: bared from the waist down and spanked regardless of who was in the room – this time it was my younger brother again. And if I continued to reach back with my hands to block the swats, my stepdad would continue to unhook or simply remove my bra each time too (as he had last week and that night), essentially giving me a choice whether to suffer further shame or be compliant and accept my punishment.
As one vicious bare-hand slap after another that night rained down on my bare bottom, I cried and pleaded for mercy that still makes be ashamed to this day for not being stronger and more defiant.
With tears rolling down my cheeks I promised and acknowledged and agreed that I understood how I’d be spanked from that day on and that I knew I’d be spanked each weekend for the next month for my ”poor behavior” and ”disrespect.”
With each demanding question put to me I blubbered out barely coherent answers:
“Are you going to behave from now on?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
“Are you going to start showing me respect?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
“Are you going to start dressing properly?” – yes
“I didn’t hear you?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
“Are you ever going to run out of the house again?” – no
“You promise?” – yes
“Are you going to stop talking back?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
“And what will happen if you do, or if you don’t listen or behave?” – I get a spanking.
“What kind of spanking?” – a… a bare bottom spanking.
“And if you don’t behave while being spanked?” – my top gets removed.
“What about your bra?” – it gets removed too
“I didn’t understand you. What did you say?” – my bra gets removed too
“Are you going to behave from now on?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
Resignation, helplessness and total submission indeed.
Regardless of the embarrassment, the stinging to my bottom was just too much and so I let my unhooked bra fall to the floor as I grabbed the lower part of the legs of the chair with my hands to help brace myself, my younger brother having already seen me essentially spanked twice this way before: naked. (As he had done before my stepdad had unhooked my bra that night, figuring that would keep my hands busy trying to hold it up against my breasts than reaching back attempting to block the swats.)
Between my stepdad’s commands, me crying, Matt watching and my mom in the shower upstairs, no one it seems heard the doorbell.
The first indication that others were behind me was upon hearing a guy’s voice exclaim, “Whoa! What the fuck?! Sweeeeeet!”
An unfamiliar female voice then began giggling.
Then I heard a familiar snort – it was coming from my older brother, Bobby.
And I quickly recognized his girlfriend (now wife) Kris’ voice from her, “Oh my God!”
My stepdad stopped only momentarily, before addressing Bobby: “This is what your sister gets for running around the neighborhood half-naked. Isn’t that right, Becky? Well? Answer me! Well?”
I blubbered out a barely coherent string of “yesses” and could only imagine what they all must of thought of my stepdad’s twisting of what had really happened that day.
Then I heard the other female say, “Come on, Cory. Let’s go and wait in the car for Kris.” (As I later found out, the four of them had double-dated and were dropping Bobby off at home; Bobby was starting college that fall.)
“I said, ‘Let’s go!” she said again, even as she giggled.
Then my mom came downstairs from her shower, yelling at my stepdad as the couple who were friends of my older brother and his girlfriend (now wife) made a hasty exit. I could hear the guy telling his girlfriend, “Did you see the way her tits were bouncing?”, both of them giggling as they closed the door on their way outside.
Embarrassed, shamed, degraded, demeaned, disgrace, humiliated, mortified indeed.
Then as I, in retrospect, made the poor decision to answer back to the way my stepdad “explained” to my older brother and his girlfriend why I was being punished, my bare bottom received several more slaps for my trouble – until my mom demanding that he stop and that I stand up.
When I did, I could do nothing but stand there, my bare bottom most certainly a bright cherry red and on fire as if stung by a hive of bees from that evening’s spanking and an earlier one late that afternoon. I could not help rubbing it while indifferent to my nakedness in front of my mom, my stepdad, my two brothers and my older brother’s girlfriend.
As I stood there, my parents arguing, my younger brother held up and dangled my bra in front of me, grinning. I snatched it from his hands before flinging it across the room in anger – my shame and humiliation already complete.
As my parents continued arguing, my older brother Bobby stared at me, a shocked expression on his face of both disbelief but also disapproval from what my stepdad was saying about my behavior that day.
My stepdad continued, “Who knows? Maybe she was flashing truckers on the way back home.”
I protested: “I did not. I had the towel wrapped around me and…”
But he cut me off and made fun of me saying, “Hear that? But she had a ‘TOWEL’ on! If that’s the way she wants to dress in public, then she has no right to complain about being spanked this way. She already knows that from now on, when she gets spanked it will be on her bare ass. Isn’t that right, Becky?”
I nodded, then mouthed a “yes” when ordered to speak up and answered “on my bare bottom” when questioned as to how I’d be spanked any time it was felt I needed a spanking.
My mom began arguing again, “I said that’s enough…”
I heard my dad saying something like ‘”That’s right. On her bare ass… don’t care what her brothers see…”
As my mom was saying, “I don’t want you spanking her anymore.”
Matt started to say something. Then my mom added, “And that goes for Matt, too.”
My stepdad countered and said something like, “Why? Because now that Miss Spoiled Tart here sheds a few tears? You never demanded I stop spanking him. Why should she be treated any differently? Maybe a sore ass and a little humiliation each week will finally teach her to behave.”
“Becky, should you be treated any differently than Matt? Is that fair?” he asked.
“No,” I replied.
“So if he gets spanked for misbehaving or talking back, how should you be spanked?”
“The same. On my bare bottom,” I answered, my head down in shame.
“When?” he asked.
“Every time I don’t listen,” I replied.
He continued arguing with my mom: “I’ve had it with her attitude, her disrespect and her dressing like a hooker. From now on, that’s the way it’s going to be until she goes off to college and I don’t give a fuck how embarrassed she says she is. If she’s embarrassed naked and bare-assed being spanked over her father’s lap, if she’s embarrassed with her brothers seeing her like that, then she can start behaving herself and watching her sassy mouth. Otherwise…”
At that point I just lost it. Not over my humiliation, my nakedness and the twisting of the truth as to what had happened that day. Not over the spanking.
With my hands on my hips, I turned to face him and yelled back, “You’re NOT my father. My father’s DEAD. Stop calling yourself that, you don’t know the meaning of the word, you son of a bitch! I HATE you! Do you hear me? I HATE YOU!”
There was quite a hush in the room and I just sort of stood there, then began trembling, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Kris, Bobby’s girlfriend, left the room for a moment and walked in the kitchen, returning with an apron for me to drape around myself. As she handed it to me it fell to the floor; I didn’t bother picking it up.
My mom said, “Becky, why don’t you go upstairs and put something on?”
My stepdad replied, “After that outburst? You’re going to let her get away and go unpunished for that? Apparently two spankings today weren’t enough.”
At that point, I outstretched both arms away from my and yelled back at my mom:
“Put something on? What for? You heard him. From now on, why should I bother wearing anything around the house since this is how I’m going to be spanked?”
I stood like that for at least ten seconds or so, everyone staring at me, until finally an incredible sense of shame came over me. I threw my hands across my boobs and pussy and went running off into the living and flung myself onto the couch. There I lay crying, burying my head into the pillows for I’m not sure how long. Then I felt Kris’ hands caressing my shoulders.
A robe in her hand, she whispered to me that my mom wanted me to spend the night at my best friend’s house, that hers and Bobby’s friends were still out front in their car all that time waiting to drive her home and that they’d drop me off, Kris having already called my girlfriend that I’d soon be coming over.
As I stood up, putting on the robe, my mom walked over. She hugged and kissed me and told me that everything was going to be alright. That she was sorry she didn’t act sooner. She handed me a small overnight bag that she had Kris hastily pack for me and walked out of the room, saying she’d see me in the morning. As Kris led me out the door, I didn’t look back into the dining room where I could hear my stepdad still arguing with her but in a much more subdued tone. My mom had told him she was filing for divorce.
There were still more spankings, more humiliation and more shame to come as the divorce progressed. Nor did it matter whoever may have been present as I was often reduced to a crying, naked, jiggling spectacle throughout most of that summer.
For years afterward, I was in denial. Whenever in conversation if asked had I ever been spanked by my parents, I’d deny it. Sure, I’d sometimes acknowledge that my younger brother was spanked while growing up. But not me. And certainly not as a teenager. And never, never, NEVER by my stepdad.
He hadn’t seen me naked since I was in diapers, I’d reply. Only my family and my closest friends knew the truth. Had guys at my high school knew, I would have never lived it down.
But the embarrassment, shame, degradation and humiliation was still there. It still is. Though I’ve finally come to terms that at least the shame isn’t mine. It’s his – for treating me like that.
But even though it has faded with time, the embarrassment and humiliation will always be there.
This was initially published on The Experience Project, July 21, 2011
“A teenage girl who behaves like a child should be dressed like a child.”
That’s what a reader wrote on my blog, making me blush as I read it, as I recalled an embarrassing weekend. Having your bottom bared for a spanking as a teenager was bad enough, but these parents felt that punishment needed something else to be even more effective.
“Teenage girls need an occasional session in which they’re reduced to the status of a little girl.”
That’s what one father, freebooter48, wrote on the Experience Project. Again, my face involuntarily blushed as past embarrassments flashed before my eyes. I protested, but it was freebooter48 who found agreement from others, not me.
“The principle that if you behave like a little girl you will be treated like a little girl should be upheld.” [- HighStandards]
Surely, I countered, that would at least not apply as part of the punishment given to a grad student in a hypothetical situation: (but which I left unsaid, as I was first too embarrassed to admit it, had actually been in REALITY for me) having helped her younger teenage cousin break curfew and then getting caught lying about it all while having previously agreed to being subject to her aunt’s house rules while staying there, which also included being spanked. One of the responses left a lump in my throat, a clear-cut independent confirmation that my aunt had indeed punished me justly.
“Her cousin acted immaturely for her age. [But] the grad student acted even more immaturely for her age, she should wear a t-shirt meant for a younger girl and little girl panties and nothing else. The panties should be small enough so everyone can see that she was spanked. If she violates the dress code, she would lose the panties. It doesn’t matter if there are guests around. She should have thought of that before lying. When she goes out, the t-shirt can be long enough to cover her panties part of the way.” [- powerman2000]
As I gasped and continued reading, he continued:
“And no bra. Bras are a privilege reserved for big girls.”
When I read that all I could think was how my aunt told me in front of my young male cousins, as I stood there bottomless in just my bra, before my spanking:
“If you want to behave like a little girl you will be treated like one. And do little girls have any need to wear a bra?”
As I meekly answered, “No”, she unclasped my bra and pulled it off to the giggles of the boys standing in front of me, adding:
“Maybe a little embarrassment will do you some good.”
My punishment went beyond just the bare bottom spankings, however. (Yes, I received a number of them while I stayed there – and yes, in full view of the boys.). And being made to dress like I was a little girl again was part of it.
(This was not to be the first time I had been punished like this. But at least the previous time happened when I was a teenager. This time I was in my twenties taking grad school classes, making it all the more mortifying!)
The morning after one spanking I woke up to find all the clothes (both outerwear and undies) I had brought with me gone.
All I had to wear was the thin nightie that I had be given to put on the preceding evening(immediately after another spanking) and that barely went below my navel, leaving nothing else to the imagination. It was with only that on with which I had to head downstairs for breakfast with the family, my bare bottom still aglow with redness from the previous evening’s spanking – a fact my younger male cousins were only happy to point out to each other.
During breakfast, my aunt explained that since I had behaved like a little girl, I would continued to be treated and punished like one during my entire extended stay there. That meant not only being subjected to continued disciplinary spankings, but also early bedtimes, supervised baths, no locking of the bathroom door at any time, not being allowed to dress or undress myself and being dressed as if I were still in early middle school!
That last part of the punishment meant I would specifically not be allowed to wear a bra, whether there at the house or anytime when out with my aunt, the only exception being for work (which was also the only time I’d be allowed to wear my “big girl clothes.”). This also meant no jeans, no thong panties and no attractive bathing suits (just one-pieces or frilly two-pieces designed for young girls). To emphasis how serious she was, my aunt announced she intended to take me shopping at the mall that day to pick out my “new” wardrobe for my time there.
My measurements are 34-24-35 and I wear a size XS (sometimes S depending on the manufacturer). I had no major difficulty fitting into juniors small size panties, although the coverage in the front and rear was lower than I liked. A girls’ size medium stretch cotton bikini panties also fit, once the leg bands were snipped to allow the cotton to rip a bit for more leg room.
T-shirts were too problematic and my aunt decided against a t-shirt and panties only rule for me. But a girls size camisole was less restrictive on the shoulders and arms, thus allowing me to wear a smaller size than even a t-shirt. Of course, embarrassingly, neither the front nor back came down far enough to cover even the top of my panties.
I was told that from that point on whenever I received a spanking during the day for disobedience, back-talk or “make-up” ones (for my past inappropriate behavior that my aunt discovered concerning me colluding with my cousin Mallory to get her brothers punished), the only thing I was permitted to wear around the house until bedtime was the small camisole and panties. It did not matter if guests happened to drop by. Disobeying (such as tying a sweater around my waist or wearing a robe) meant the panties came off for an immediate spanking followed by corner time – and the panties were to stay off for the rest of the day. It only took several instances when that happened for me to obey the camisole and panties only rule. Unfortunately, those instances happened when guests had dropped by – much to my consternation and much to their amusement.
The problem that the camisole would not be long enough to go out shopping at the mall was solved when while standing in the kitchen with two of my younger male cousins present, my aunt pulled off the nightie I was wearing, left the room (leaving me naked in front of my grinning cousins) and returned a few minutes later to hand me an old pair of my younger cousin Mallory’s panties. I put them on, but they were tight and only covered the lower half of my bottom while also leaving some of my bush showing in front. Next, my aunt handed me one of my other younger cousin’s Megan’s old sleep gowns that she wore in pre-teen years, an absolutely horrid, short tiny thing with animals prints all over it. Although it was a sleep gown, it could also marginally pass as a dress. I was then instructed to put on my socks and shoes at nothing else.
Without allowed to wear high heels or make-up and with my hair put into pig-tails, I was horrified! If it were legal, I’d have rather worn a string bikini to the mall. At least I would have looked my age! Instead I neither felt nor looked like it.
When I protested and used some inappropriate language to suggest what the sleep gown looked like, I soon found myself over my aunt’s knee, panties at my ankles, for a quick but solid spanking on my already sore bare bottom, much to the delight of my cousins. My vocal protests that I was soon to be seen in public dressed in nothing but my shoes, socks, small pair of panties and the sleep gown ended there.
Listening to the snickering behind me, especially when on the escalators at the mall, was humiliating. Not to mention the smirks from sales clerks who were freely invited into the changing cubicle as my aunt slipped the small gown I was forced to wear up over my head and off, leaving me topless in just the small pair of panties while having me try on various dresses in the juniors’ department.
The constant giggling from the two youngest boys who she brought along with us, including into the changing cubicle added to my embarrassment as they were only too happy to blurt out to the sales clerks that I had received a spanking that morning (as if it wasn’t obvious enough to them already with the small pair of panties I was forced to wear!).
At least a half dozen times my aunt even paraded me out in the open in front of the half circle of mirrors in the main area of the juniors’ department. A number of shoppers snickered at the sight of me with my panties clearly visible, being scolded as I hesitated to turn and let my aunt view the latest thing she had me try on. A few times, a quick lift of whatever dress she had me put on before a sharp slap or two to my butt quickly had me comply while I tried to avoid eye contact with a couple giggling shoppers.
At one juniors’ clothing store, she stood there holding the changing cubicle door wide open, since it was too crowded for the four of us to fit into. That other shoppers could get a peak at me didn’t concern her in the slightest. She even struck up a conversation with one woman who said she liked the short dress my aunt was having me try on.
The woman asked my aunt, “Where did you find that? I’d like to get one like that for my daughter. She starts junior high next year and is tall just like your girl.”
As the small talk continued, it became evident to me the woman thought that I was in junior high as well! I cringed in embarrassment knowing I certainly did not look my age.
At another store, the few cubicles there were occupied so after I was reluctant to do so myself, she simply and nonchalantly lifted up my gown up over my head and handed me a dress designed for a 12-year old to wear, leaving me standing there in nothing but my panties in front of a shocked but soon smirking store clerk. When I tried to hurriedly put on the dress over my head and pull it down to cover my exposed body, I was confounded by it being pinned together near the waist, resulting in complete topless exposure as I struggled with it over my head but not knowing why I couldn’t pull it down further.
Another store had a common changing area for girls (with a number of mothers, like my aunt, bringing in young boys). There she left me blushing and standing in nothing but my panties for five or ten minutes at a time as she went back out onto the sales floor to get something else for me to try on.
I know the purpose of the punishment was to treat me like a little girl until I showed my aunt I could again behave like the college grad should behave. But being spanked and punished like that also MADE ME FEEL like a little girl again. As people stared and smirked at me being scolded and talked to like a little girl, and being undressed in front of them without concern for my modesty and knowing that some of them saw that I had recently been spanked, I most certainly felt like I had regressed backwards in time 20 years.
So obviously, I can’t deny the effectiveness of the punishment freebooter 48 and the others suggested: that of reducing a teenager or even a college-aged woman to the status of a little girl as part of the discipline dished out. The initial bare bottom spankings are bad enough. But the additional humiliation is what really sinks in the shame.
Should a Teenage Girl or Female College Coed Who Misbehaves Like a Little Girl Be Spanked, Punished and Dressed Like a Little Girl Without Concern for Her Modesty?
Probably the most important thing for a teenager girl who is entrusted with babysitting younger boys is for them to have total respect for her authority. After all, when you tell them to behave for either their own safety or for your sanity, you need them to know that it’s an order not a request, even though you may not be that much older than them.
For example, when you tell them it’s time for their bath and you need them to undress, they’ll comply – however reluctanly and despite their embarrassment – if they recognize your authority as loco parentis. Same for telling them to do their homework, turn down the TV or to stop arguing with their siblings.
But imagine what happens to all that respect you’ve built up over time when suddenly one day they see your panties pulled down and your upturned, completely bare bottom being spanked by your stepdad, your legs uncontrollably flying wide open and about from the pain, your unfastened bra falling to the floor releasing your teenage breasts to bounce about as your body wiggles in pain and, upon your standing up and clenching your sore butt with both hands, see you as nothing but a naked, crying, jiggling, spectacle before them?
Ashamed? Humiliated? Wanting to crawl into a hole and hide? Owned – when you later feel like you’re the one being babysat by them because of their constant teasing?
That’s how I felt when this happened to me at age 16.
Oh, and did I mention that my younger brother was watching, too?
It was the beginning of my ”Summer of Shame” and the first of many humiliating, shameful spankings that left me feeling far much more like a little girl in pre-school barely out of diapers with no need for any modesty to be afforded to her than an often impertinent teenage girl in high school heading into 11th grade with a driver’s license.
A few months ago, in March 2012, two 15-year old girls were forcibly stripped completely naked by their teachers Preeti Sharma and Reshma Simaiyain front of more than 40 male classmates.
They had been accused of cheating and the teachers claimed there were going to look for notes hidden on their person. When the girls refused to strip voluntarily, they were forcibly stripped completely naked on the spot. Their classmates laughed, hooted and snickered at them as the girls stood there nude. No scraps of paper were found and after being thoroughly humiliated, the girls had to still endure another three hours with their giggling, teasing classmates before being dismissed.
This is by no means an isolated incident. I’m totally appalled at how accepted the humiliation of school girls seems to be throughout India. Child abuse and abuse of authority happens everywhere – and we here in the United States aren’t immune from it. But in most western democracies the populace is outraged by it.
Last year at school in Orissa, a 8th grade girl was stripped naked in front of 25 classmates because her teacher falsely accused her of stealing money. The girl later committed suicide because of the trauma she suffered.
A teacher at a school in Faridabad paraded a school girl around topless in front of all her schoolmates because her parents forgot to pay a fee.
A schoolgirl in Vijayawada was forced to expose her breasts to all her classmates for not speaking English.
A few years ago, a school girl in New Delhi school was stripped naked by her teacher, ordered to stand on her desk totally exposed and her classmates were urged to make fun of her. Why? Because she didn’t complete all her homework.
In first grade twenty years ago, I suffered a number of embarrassing moments. I had peed myself several times in class and as a result my teacher put me in diapers during recess or lunch period. This went on every day for over two weeks and then occasionally after that. On some occasions students, including several boys, returning to the classroom early saw me partially or fully undressed and then diapered. They were not told to leave the room and therefore got a good look at everything. And I do mean everything.
OK. So, it wasn’t the end of the world and I got over it, learning to live with the teasing.
But years later, as an older student, if I had to take off all of my clothes in front of my classmates each occasional time I did poorly on a test, homework paper or in-class assignment, I might as well simply have gone to school completely naked each day every year after that. There would have been no point in trying to maintain any modesty.
That’s how I later felt in high school when nude pics of me and two close girlfriends were circulated. Those two 15-year old girls probably feel that way now. After all, forty boys saw them standing there totally naked and exposed. They feel ashamed. They feel humiliated. They feel mortified every time they are around those who witnessed or even heard of their degrading treatment. They are now “branded” and they can’t make the boys un-see what they’ve seen. But at least here in the U.S. what happened to my friends and I was considered unacceptable.
Unfortunately, those two teenage girls in India probably aren’t going to have a whole lot of community support. I pray that they have the courage to deal with it.
When are Indians as a whole going to demand an end to the humiliating, degrading strippings of school girls? There are hundreds of millions of decent people in India. When are they going to use their collective power and stop the rampant abuse of children and severely punish the abusers?
I originally published this on my blog at the Experience Project, June 17, 2012.
I pray that when those pigs who raped CBS reporter Lara Logan in Tahrir Square in Cairo get their 72 virgins in their pathetic afterlife, they discover to their dismay that each of them has a very, very, VERY sharp knife in her hand with each female virgin taking turns with the 71 others doing her part to make positively sure that those assholes will feel like John Bobbitt every single moment for all eternity.