Embarrassed. Shamed. Degraded. Demeaned. Disgraced. Humiliated. Mortified. The Feelings Of A Teenage Girl Receiving Bare Bottom Spankings From Her Stepdad.
by Becky Romero
July 21, 2011
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.
It is stories of this kind that make me want to kill.
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