Over the years I have had many reports from girls who lived in small communities in the south or who lived on farms anywhere, including in Illinois and Nebraska, and on ranches in Colorado, as well as towns in Texas, Pennsylvania, and Michigan, among others. These reports are from girls who were severely spanked mainly in the 1960’s and 1970’s, although I had some more recent reports from the 1980’s and 1990’s, as well as a few within the past 10 years. As shown here, these girls were frequently strapped and whipped, and spanked hard. In practically all cases, these girls were made to assume a position for their spanking that would raise their bottom up high so they could be spanked hard, most often kneeling with their head down, bending over pillows on a bed, kneeling on an ottoman with their hands on the floor, bending over a spanking horse, and so on. I’m going to start this report right by having you view the whipping of a girl’s bare bottom as she has to hold it up and keep it up to be strapped hard.
Click on the title frame below to see a girl strapped hard. As you can see from the title, this same film will be used in another post concerning Jessica and Tonya who were punished in a manner very similar to that experienced by Erika.
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The Disobedience Spanking shown above for Jessica and Tonya is characteristic of the spankings that are being reported on today by a girl who received them many times. Her spankings were long and hard and represent what many girls have had to receive when they were punished.
I have recently been contacted by a girl who wants me to give her the same type of severe spanking that she had received when she was younger. She has recognized just how important those very severe spankings were in helping her to behave properly and achieve the goals she wants to achieve. As she lives in another state we are having to plan on just what is possible so that I can go to see her for a couple of weeks or so in order to administer the severe spankings along with the close supervision required to actually help her modify her behavior and punish her for her misbehaviors.
If you also need severe spankings to punish you properly so that you behave better, you can see how you may want to plan to receive the spankings you need by clicking on the banner below and go to see the Spanking-Therapy, Spanking-Discipline, and Spanking-Punishment programs available that are designed to obtain your Attitude-Adjustment or Goal-Achievement that you want.
But, for now, I will provide some of the reports that this new girl has sent concerning the spankings she previously received. As I have reported previously, the movies I produce are founded on the actual spanking experiences of girls I have either spanked or who reported to me about spankings that they had received. So, whereas the photos and movies shown are not of the actual girl, they do depict in a very real way just how severely the girls were spanked and punished.
I got this first report from this new girl, who I will just refer to as “Erika”, at a time when I was preparing a report from a girl I knew in the 1970’s who had been spanked and punished in a similar manner to that of Erika who was also spanked during about that time period or a little later. The girl in the 1970’s was living with her uncle who spanked not only her but his young wife. The girl I knew moved in with her uncle when she was 17 and his wife was 21 at the time. The uncle was about 38 at the time she moved in with him, and he treated both girls more as “daughters” than a niece and wife. But that report will come later. For now, I simply provide the report from Erika as she sent it to me.
Erika:
Here is my first report on my spankings. I will also tell you about my preparation for coming to you so that you can spank and punish me. I will tell you what I had to endure and learn just to get to see you to be punished, disciplined and taught again the things I used to know. Mine is a story of what happens when a girl who is used to firm and routine discipline is without, and what must happen to bring her back in line and help her to get and keep her life on track, and to become the type of woman who would attract the type of man who could in fact take care of her in every way. Also, as you know, I am blind, and therefore must trust the one providing my punishment and discipline and what that is like. I am going to work very hard to get the funding I need to help pay your expenses in coming to punish me, and I will lose the weight I have to lose so that I will be healthy and look and feel the way I should. I know that I have gained weight because I have not felt good about myself and the things I have done, and I need to be punished for my misbehavior, and to start I will lose the weight you say I have to lose before you will come to spank me.
Here’s what happened:
My first report for you is from a time when I was a young girl, 15 years old, spending the summer with my aunt and uncle, and my father had come to visit. It was a Friday evening, and my father and uncle had decided I’d been in entirely too much trouble of late, had gotten just one too many spankings in one week and needed to be reminded in no uncertain terms what the rules were and what happens to young ladies who forget their lessons. I had already been spanked 4 times, I believe, and had now to be spanked for that.
For my punishment, I had to get out of bed at exactly 4-AM. I had to be naked, have my bed made, and be laying over the pillows for a hard hairbrush and belt spankings from my aunt. As I lay there she came in and started with the hairbrush and spanked each cheek many, many times. Then she took one of my uncle’s belts and whipped me for a long time.
When she finished I had to then take a bath. At 5-AM I had to report to my cousin who was 18 and he used a switch on me, one of those sturdy birch switches, until 5:20. Then I was taken to my uncle and father out behind my uncle’s house at a tree stump that my uncle used to spank us girls. He also spanked his wife with her bending over that tree stump. My cousin stood me in front of the stump and told me to bend over and place my hands palms down on the top of it. My uncle and father then came to see my bottom, to see if I was truly warmed up and ready for my Saturday all-day punishment. This was going to be an all-day punishment, and not just one spanking and done.
My father spoke first:
“Young lady do you understand why we have decided to spank you in this way?”
I answered, “Yes sir, I have been extremely disobedient this week, and have had to have several spankings from Uncle Terry here on the farm.”
My father reached out and touched my bottom. I flinched, and he asked, “Does that hurt, young lady?” “Yes sir,” I answered tearfully. I always had to call him and Uncle Terry “sir” when I was being punished. “Stop that crying!” my father snapped, smacking my bottom with his hand. It landed with a loud pop! across my bare bottom. I jumped, and he said, “You’re being disobedient even now.” I cried a little, “I don’t mean to sir, it really hurts.” My father said, “I think I’ll began with the heavy leather strap. Maybe 20 or 30 minutes with that will help to straighten your attitude a bit.”
He walked over and selected a heavy leather strap. It was long and he looped one end around his right wrist. The strap had holes punched in it from one end to the other. It would hurt badly before he was done. I knew that for sure. This was not my first experience with it. Again and again the strap rose and fell, rose and fell. It made a harsh Snapping sound as it went across my bare bottom and backs of my legs over and over again. My uncle spoke up and said, “20”. That meant that my father had been spanking me for exactly 20 minutes. I could barely catch my breath between one stroke and the next. He had been raising the strap over his shoulder and bringing it down across my poor naked sore bottom and backs of my legs for all those 20 minutes without spaces in between for me to do more than barely take a breath, only to have it strapped right out of me with the next painful, fiery stroke. As the strap connected with my bottom across the lower part of my butt cheeks, I cried out, “OWWWW! OWWWW!” My father said, “Young lady! I’ll give you a reason to yell like that! We’ve talked about your behavior during a strapping!” Yes we had, and I knew that I had to take my spankings without screaming and if I did I would be spanked harder.
He stepped back just a small amount, raised his arm high above his shoulder, and swish! The strap sliced neatly through the air, and Snap! across the bottom of my butt cheeks, both sides at once, I nearly screamed. But I bit it back. I knew that my spanking was now about obedience, and I was expected to take that part like a young lady, polite and I could cry, yes tears were expected, and it was even ok for me to sob, but I could not, must not! yell like a baby. My father was now insisting on it. He said that when I grew older and found a job that if I were fortunate that my boss would spank me, and that there would be times when I might have to be spanked during the middle of a busy work day and I would need to know how to do so without attracting attention and so he was teaching me now. The strapping continued until my uncle said, “10” This meant that another 10 minutes had gone by with the strap rising and falling. I had cried out 3 times and so had 5 more strokes to endure, and they would not come from the strap. My father reached behind him, and traded the heavy leather strap with my uncle for the riding crop. My father gave me 5 of the hardest strokes I ever received from a riding crop and I cried out with each one, they landed one on top of the next on the bottoms of my butt cheeks, just over the tops of my thighs. That for me is still today one of the most tender spots, and that was the entire point of it. If I wanted to cry out I needed to have a reason. I’d been told to take the spanking a certain way, had disobeyed and like everything else in life, there was a consequence. Finally that part of my punishment was over, and I was told that I would be allowed to rest for 15 minutes. I was to lay across the stump where I was and that I might cry but I was not to be loud about it. I was not to move, and I was not to speak.
I was told that if I did any of those things I’d been told not to, that it would mean an extra switching before the Saturday spanking could continue. I laid across the stump, I cried tears filled with pain, but worse than that they were filled with shame. I hated being made to lay with my badly spanked bottom on display for everyone to see. I hated being made to lay there and wait like that. I hated not being able to reach back and rub my very sore and hurting bottom. I hated most of all however, that I’d been so badly behaved that I’d caused my own father and uncle to feel this was their only choice. I knew better and really could behave better. I’d been a sass-mouth all week, I’d been late to chores and I’d talked-back to my aunt and been very disrespectful on several occasions. I had already gotten spanked several times but had not learned. Now I deserved what was happening to me, and had no doubt, but it did not make it any easier to take.
As I lay there my bottom began to feel cold on top of the burning pain that was now beginning to throb. My legs felt as if they would sting right off my body, and the switched places now covered with welts from the strap were itching and stinging badly. I wanted to kick my legs. I couldn’t hear anyone and so took a chance. I kicked out my legs and at that very moment heard my uncle say, “She’s kicking.” My father turned from what he’d been doing to look just as both my legs shot out. My uncle asked, “Well, what should we do about that?” My father thought a bit and then walked over to me: “Would you like to tell me why you felt it was necessary to disobey me when I specifically told you not to move?” I took a breath, I knew I was in real trouble. “Sir, I was itching and stinging on my legs, and thought that kicking and stretching them would make them feel better. I cannot touch the ground with my feet and so…” My father cut me off with a sharp slap to my bottom. My breath caught in my throat, and I almost strangled on my own words. He slapped me again, and said, “You really are a badly behaved little girl, who really has been too long without proper teaching.”
My Note: Girls who are punished severely will often receive Attitude-Adjustment Spankings, normally with them bending over a chair, bed, sofa, tree stump, or whatever so that they can be whipped hard. Click the following title frame to see Erika get an attitude-adjustment. Of course, this whipping is much shorter than what Erika would receive. When she was whipped, she would be whipped for 15 to 30 minutes or more.
He walked over and he and my uncle talked quietly between themselves for a while. My uncle finally walked over, selected an implement from the rack, and walked over to me. “I fear, young lady that since it was the present condition of your legs that caused your behavior, then we obviously have not made them uncomfortable enough and must do something about that. I’m going to switch your legs from the bottoms of your but cheeks, all the way to your ankles, and you will take each stroke without so much as a word. You may cry you may sob, you may not move, and you may not cry out.”
[NOTE: Many disciplinarians who punish girls hard as Erika was punished, believe that it is important that the girl abide by very strict rules such as not talking, not moving, and staying in position and so on. And if they disobey in the slightest way, they must be punished hard. One girl who was severely punished, and who I may have mentioned before, was taken to a barn and severely spanked and whipped for an hour when she was punished. She was made to bend over a spanking-horse that was kept in the barn just for her spankings. She had to bend over and hold on to the legs of the spanking horse on one side and keep her feet on the ground beside the other legs. A strap was used on her that she had to buy just to use to whip her, and then a stirrup strap was kept hanging on the wall to be used on her if required. If she let go of the legs of the spanking-horse or moved her feet, then the stirrup strap would be used on her with a 5-minute strapping, very hard. If she was told to shut-up and she kept screaming, she would be whipped with the stirrup strap for another 5 minutes. After her punishment in the barn, she had to run, screaming and crying to the house and go to her bedroom and kneel on the bed, presenting herself for an Enema. When he gave her the Enema, she had to hold it as she was spanked. Any “leakage” and she would be sent to the bathroom to expel the Enema and then return to kneel on the bed to be severely strapped with the stirrup strap. Total obedience is expected during these punishment sessions. And, as I have noted before, rules for the girls are often imposed for the sake of controlling the girl, and providing opportunities to spank the girls since they will not be able to follow all of the rules all of the time. Rules are there for a reason, to provide a reason to spank the girl, as in the case of Erika.]
Let me stop here and explain that although my uncle wanted me to cry when I was spanked, he did not want a bunch of yelling and screaming. He believed that a young lady should conduct herself properly as ordered no matter the situation. He demanded it, and she had to learn to behave his way. He began to switch me, and I cried oh so hard. He switched me with the long Birch rod until I sobbed uncontrollably. I was absolutely beside myself with the pain of it and finally my uncle asked, “Now, young lady do you think when we ask you to lay still across the stump and think about what you’ve done to get there, and what is yet to come for you that you can do it and be still doing so?” I shook and shivered from the pain of my switching, and my body was racked with sobs that took my breath but I managed, “Yes sir? “I don’t want it answered in the form of a question.” Then he asked the question, after delivering 50 more strokes, but instead of being across the backs of my legs, he made me spread my legs open and switched the insides of them, causing me to cry that much harder. When he was done he said, “Now, young lady when we ask you to lay across the stump quietly and without moving and to think about why you are there and what is yet to come that you can do so obediently?” I took a shaky breath and answered, “Yes sir.” He positioned me so that my legs were tightly together. He tied me at the ankles to make sure that I remained that way. For 20 minutes I lay that way. It was extremely painful, and I was not allowed to make a sound. Then he came back untied my ankles and I was instructed to continue to keep my legs together and again told not to talk. I could cry but I was expected to behave. I was 15 years old, and was in the words of my father, “A young lady now, and time to learn to behave as such.” I was prone to tantrums and had been harshly punished for those on many occasions. I was expected to be over that stage, and woe unto me and my back side should I forget that.
After 10 more minutes my uncle came back to me. “Your father has gone for a while, he has to tend to your sister. Turns out she thought while he was busy with you she could get herself into trouble back at the house. In the mean time I want to speak to you.” He helped me to my feet, and gently washed my face with a soft cloth, that had been dipped in cool water. He led me over and sat down on the bench next to the brick fire pit in the yard. He took me on to his lap and held me. My bottom throbbed painfully as I sat there and at the same time it was comforting to feel that pain and know that my father and uncle loved me enough to take care of me even to the point of this to see that I grew up knowing what I needed to know.
“Now, I am really sorry that you’ve had to be handled so very harshly. You’re going to be very unhappy for several days even if we do not punish you any further. However, we are going to punish you further.” He rubbed my back and I was shaking inside. I was so scared of what he was going to say next. There were several implements he’d not even touched, and my father as well. They both had their favorites. My uncle’s was an old army belt his great uncle had had years ago. He knew how to swing that in such a way that the very first stroke landed from it would leave a swelling welt and have you jumping and clinching your butt cheeks together even though you knew it would lead to even a worse spanking later on. My father had his trusty switch, and at times he used a cane. He had 3 and neither of them were my favorite but the worse one of all was without a doubt the senior cane. This cane was longer than the others, and a bit thicker, and when you were struck with it, it hurt in a way that left a flaming stripe with the first stroke, and anything after would spread and burn until you thought you’d scream in madness with it. I worried that either or both of those implements could appear and be used rather severely at any time.
As he rubbed my back he slid his hand down until he was rubbing my badly spanked bottom. Each time his hand rubbed across the striped welts I flinched, and each time I did so he whispered, “Don’t keep that up young lady, you’re going to live to regret that.” I would try and fail to be still when his hand crossed my sore bottom again. Finally my uncle said with a sigh, “Well, may as well get on with it. It’s obvious that even as bad as we’ve already punished you, you’re not quite ready to obey without fail.” I tried to catch my breath as his words echoed in my ears. “Now, bend over my lap please?” I did as asked, I went over his lap and allowed him to position me so that my bottom was high in the air, and my legs were up and my feet off the floor. He truly liked to always have my feet off the floor, and my hands too whenever possible. He knew that my not being able to see, and not being able to touch anything while being spanked was hard for me, and made me mindful of every stroke. I hated that position even more than when I was made to kneel and lean across the kneeling bench at church and get spanked by the pastor.
My uncle began to hand spank me. First one cheek then the other. Over-and-over smacks echoing and mingling with my sobs. Finally he stopped, and said sternly, “On your feet young lady! Now!” I stood a bit slower than he preferred and a sharp smack was applied to both butt cheeks at one time. I jumped, and yelled in painful surprise. Again my uncle sighed, and I knew that this meant he believed me to need an even harsher spanking than I’d already gotten up to this point. He led me over to the stump again and asked me to bend over it. I did as I was told, and raised my sore bottom in to the air. Even though it was horribly striped now, I knew there was more to come. Before the army belt came out my uncle spanked me with a paddle. The paddle was made from heavy oak wood, and had holes drilled all though the center of it. I’d had this used on me many times in many positions, and I knew that however I stood I’d have blisters after about 10 strokes, and that I’d get many more than that. The paddle popped over and over from one butt cheek to the other, and I jumped in spite of several warnings to remain still. Twice he actually restarted the paddling, and I cried pitifully when he did. So much so that he asked me if I thought I might need another spanking for throwing such a fit. After a while I began to kick my legs. I couldn’t help it and my uncle knew so. He did not punish me for it, but continued to paddle me. After about 80 strokes he stopped. I was gasping for breath, and sobbing freely. He stood me up and said, “You’ve been an extremely bad young lady, and I have decided we’re going to finish up in the barn. The truth of the matter is that I am going to take you to the barn, strap you, and then use the leather riding crop on you. Then I’m going to turn you over to your father for a while, and when I return we will have a very long and painful session with that army belt you seem to love. At least you misbehave enough that you get it quite often so that one would think you enjoy it, but this evening I am going to make absolutely certain that you do not enjoy it. You will not be able to stand anything to touch your bottom and legs when I am done, but you will not enjoy it.” He spoke sternly, more so than I’d ever heard him before.
We walked together to the barn. He held my hand and led me there without as much as a word. Once inside, I knew what to do. In the back stall that was larger than any other there was a saw horse. I made my way there and pulled the saw horse out in to the center of the stall floor. This particular saw horse was equipped with special places on the front and back for my hands and feet to be shackled in place. I would lay straddled across the saw horse, my bottom high in the air, skin on my bottom and backs of my legs pulled tightly and would take the rest of my punishment there. My uncle first whipped me with the army belt I’d dreaded so much. He told me that was the warm up portion of my spanking, the part that would get me ready for the worse to come. He striped me up and down my bottom and legs, I sobbed freely and my breathing was very hard. I could barely catch my breath between strokes. Finally after what seemed like forever and when I truly thought my bottom and backs of my legs would literally explode in flames, he stopped, but not for long. I barely had time to slow my breathing before he was back. He had the riding crop, and he painfully striped me with it. My bottom throbbed with the pain of it, and I couldn’t help but to cry out and my uncle simply said, “If you are going to cry like that, you’re simply going to deserve it. Understand?” I managed to gulp, “Yes sir…” He continued over and over the rising and falling and snapping sounds of the riding crop, and the harsh pain of it filled every sense of my being. The fiery pain was incredible. The strength with which he struck my poor bottom and legs was incredibly harsh and I couldn’t help after a time flinching and jumping with every stroke. Again my uncle only said, “If you’re going to behave like that you’re going to be given reason.” Finally he stopped and stepped back to look at his work. From the very top of my bottom down to my ankles was covered with swollen angry red welts. I was shaking with sobs, and saying, “I’m sorry, Uncle Terry, I’m so sorry, I’ll be a good girl, I promise. I know I’ve been bad, and I want to be good.” He came over and leaning over gave me a kiss on my cheek, and brushed my hair back from my face. “I’m sorry too sweetie, and I hope you’re learning your lessons. Your father and I do not enjoy this, but you are special and you must be taught better. You must be taught to behave, and very well, people don’t expect much from you because of you being blind, but I know better, and so does your father, and your grandfather, and we only want you to grow up knowing for sure right from wrong, and how to behave like the young lady we know you can.”
As I think about that moment now, I realize I’ve forgotten much of what I learned back then, and have many regrets.
Click on the title frame below to see a long, hard spanking in different positions and with different implements. Again, each implement would be applied for a much longer period of time than that shown. These punishment sessions would often be all day, or at least for a couple of hours. Girls during this time were spanked severely and it was just considered acceptable to spank the girl for a long time and very hard.
My uncle walked away leaving me laying there to think about what had happened up to now, and about what would happen in just a little while. Finally my father came, and he stood quietly for a long time. I had stopped crying long before he got there. I was just cried out. The pain in my back side was as bad or worse than ever but crying would not make it better. I would, however find my tears again, shortly. My father walked over and touched my very sore bottom with a hand on each butt cheek. He at the same time squeezed with both hands, kneading my bottom like dough, and I, without any way to stop myself cried out in pain! “Oww owwww! OWWWW!” I yelled, and howled, I kicked and still he went on squeezing them, pulling them apart and pressing them back together. This lasted only a couple of minutes, but left me feeling weak and shaken.
“I want you to learn a powerful lesson from all this, and I don’t want you to forget this time. You’re behavior sassing with every mouth full, and disobeying when you’re told to do things, we can’t have that and won’t. Do you understand me young lady?” “Yes sir,” I sobbed.
He walked away and came back a few moments later with the very thing I’d been dreading. He, without any more talk, repositioned my legs a bit and leaned me forward a bit so as to raise my bottom a bit higher, and tighten the skin just a bit more, and then, Swish! and Crack! He caned me not once not twice not 5 times, but 24 times. Over and Over rise and fall the cane swished and cracked across my bottom from the top to the bottom curve of my butt cheek over and over, more and more painfully with each fiery stroke. And when he was done I felt as if I were literally on fire. I was crying openly without any attempt to be quiet or hide my sobs, and this was in fact what my father wanted. Sounds confusing, but there were times when he wanted to punish me passed what I could handle with good behavior and make me miserable for my disobedience. Now that the caning was done, he released me from the saw horse, and stood me in the corner for 20 minutes, hands on the wall in front of me, nose literally in the crook of the corner. If I so much moved a fraction of an inch he would slap my bottom harshly across both sides, and reset the timer. Finally corner time was over, and he was calling me to him. He bent me over in the middle of the floor, hands flat out in front of me and strapped me for 20 minutes until I was howling in pain. Finally he said, “Enough! Get hold of yourself, now!” He gave me a few moments to compose myself and then said, “I am going to switch you on your bottom and while I do you may cry you may sob but you may not speak, and you may not yell, and you may not even say, OWWW! Do you understand? This is your final disobedience spanking, and if you disobey me during this one, I will take you to the pastor before church and let him deal with you according to his will. Do you understand me young lady?” “Yes sir,” I answered softly. The fight was gone from me. I was starting to tire a bit, and simply wanted the spanking over. He switched my bottom harder than ever, and finally it was over from him, but I still had one more session from my uncle. My father spoke as he walked out of the stall, leaving me in the corner, “Your uncle is not happy with you. I imagine that not only is he going to finish with you here with the actual whip, I also imagine that you’ll find yourself over his lap tonight for a very long hand spanking and an even longer hairbrush spanking. I am sorry for you.” He walked out and I heard him tell my uncle as they passed each other, “She’s all yours, and she is extremely sore, and sorry. I plan to take her to the pastor tomorrow, it makes the 3RD time this month, and I’d say he’ll spank her in front of everyone.” My uncle sighed, “Well, maybe the pain and humiliation will stop this then.” My father spoke then, ‘”You could stop a bit of it tonight. Give her a very bad whipping in there, and then deal with her before bed. For whatever reason when I punish her I do not get the same result as you. I’d very much like for you to severely take her in hand.”
My uncle took him seriously. He came into the barn, and called me to the front. I was made to stand bent over with my hands palms down on the floor spread shoulder width out in front of me, my legs were spread the same, and my bottom in the air. The birch came down over and over for what seemed a life time. I was sobbing and the pain was unlike anything I’d ever felt even from the birch switch. Finally he stopped, but only for long enough to change his implement of choice. He switched back to the dreaded army belt. He spanked me, for how long I don’t know. Then, as my father had predicted, he did something he did not do often. He went to the wall and took down the leather whip. He raised it over his shoulder, brought it down, I screamed, and things afterward were a bit of a blur for me. He whipped me so harshly I simply cried out in huge gulping sobs, and begged him after a while for forgiveness, promised to obey without fail from now on, and still he continued, the pain of the whip was more horrible than I’d remembered, and finally he spoke, and saying softly but firmly, “I have 12 more strokes for you. I want you to take a moment to compose yourself and then I want you to take these last 12 like a young lady who has finally learned her lessons.” And that’s what he finished with. The spankings ended up being so harsh that the bed time spanking could not be given, but in its place I was made to go to bed on my back side, and not allowed to turn over.
I was a very sorry sad little lady for quite some time after. For the first few days I was allowed to take my meals standing at the end of the table, and was not made to sit more than was necessary. Except for twice daily, when I had to sit bare bottomed on a wooden stool with splinters in it, and not talk or make any movement at all. If I did a record was made of it, and when I was able I’d be spanked for it. Finally I was able with much pain to sit, and my uncle made sure I did plenty of work that required me to sit for long periods of time. I did learn my lesson, and I was taken to the pastor the next day, but was in such shape my spanking for Sunday was put off for two weeks.
Look for another report from Erika next week!
