I recently saw a copy of your magazine and immediately recognized myself as Debbie in the letter that my ex-boyfriend sent you. Yes I am the one who had two half brothers who never got punished, while I could expect a spanking for just about anything.

Well the events described in that letter are pretty accurate. But as humiliating as the circumstances sound, let me tell you that by the time I was 15, things had gotten much worse. At that point my father was traveling and rarely around which meant that my step-mother had a much freer hand in dealing with us kids. That meant little for my two half brothers. They were still rarely disciplined and never spanked as I was. But the circumstances of my punishment had become much more humiliating. Indeed, I believe they were deliberately designed for that purpose.

For one thing, the spankings were much less private. The discipline scenario had been moved from the privacy of my own or my parents’ bedroom and into the living room. In practice this meant that while the boys were not specifically invited to watch me being punished, they were free to enter the living room while it was happenning. To tell you the truth, I don’t think either of them ever missed a chance to witness one of my spanking sessions.

The way it worked was this: Mom would announce at morning breakfast that Debbie had been naughty again and would be punished in the living room immediately after school at 4 o’clock sharp. My brothers understood that meant a barebottom spanking on my poor tushy. Just the thought that they would be there had me in tears. Before we even finished breakfast, they would be smirking and giggling while I would be crying and mom just acted as though nothing at all special was going on.

When we got back from school, everything in the living room would already be set up. Mom had a folding card table opened in the middle of the room, with a padded bench on one side. Next to the bench would be a utility bag holding a hairbrush, a paddle, a ruler, and that old lengh of leather strap that had been used on my bottom since I was a little girl. Mom would be standing nearby with a frown on her face and her arms folded, waiting expectantly for me to make the next move.

I didn’t have to be told what to do, not unless I wanted the punishment doubled, which I certainly did not. If I was wearing jeans, I would unbutton them and lower them to just above my knees. Then I would lower my panties in the same way. If I had on a dress I needed to pull the dress up and my panties down to make sure my buttocks were totally in view. Then I had to kneel on the bench and spread myself out over the table top with my arms holding the sides, so that my naked behind was sticking up in the air.

I could already be crying at this point, especially if my younger brothers had come in the room and were already watching. My mother would then pick up one of the punishment implements—she might change and use several during the session—and use it for a few practice swats at my heinie. She would tell me she was ready to begin and at that point, I would be paddled or spanked in earnest. I was required to count and shout out the number of strokes as they landed, usually 15 or 25, depending on the nature of the offense.

Some times during the course of my spanking my mother would give me the order “Stretch!” which meant putting my privates on display. This meant I had to reach back with both hands and stretch my bottom cheeks so that my pussy and my asshole were in full view. This meant that anyone who happened to be around got to see everything, not a very pleasant event for a 15-year-old girl. Whenever she asked me to stretch, I had to stay in that position until she told me I could stop. Any deviation on my part was severely dealt with, as I found out much to my regret on one occasion I will describe later.

When I had pulled my cheeks apart and was in the proper position, mother would continue the punishment by administering a hand spanking, which included painfully landing blows directly on my private parts. While she was doing this she would sometimes follow a spank with a squeeze, which meant, for example, if she was on my left side, she would spank my left buttock with her right hand, then squeeze the place she had just struck me.

This would have two effects. First, it would leave pronounced red handmarks on my poor bottom. But secondly, while squeezing me in this manner, my mother would manage to work perhaps two fingers into my pussy and asshole. This would cause me to get very hot. If she kept it up, my pussy would get quite wet and I couldn’t help but do some squirming. My mom knew exactly what she was doing and what was going on but she said nothing. I don’t know if my brothers noticed or not, they usually were completely silent while watching me being punished and humiliated.

When the punishment was finished, I was not allowed to dismount from the bench and table. I had to stay there in position with my bare behind sticking up for at least 30 minutes, some times longer. Finally, Mom would tell me that it was done and I could get up, but before I did so, I had to thank her for caring about me enough to spank me. This would sometimes cause my half brothers to giggle if they were in the living room, although they tried to keep as quiet as possible. When it was over, I would pull up my panties as best I could and race to my room, where I would collapse face down tearfully on my bed.

Now as humiliating as these circumstances were, there is something I have not mentioned that made it all even worse. The main door to our house opened directly into the living room, and the way my mom would set up the table and bench, my heinie would be directly facing the doorway, which was really only about 15 feet away. This meant that anybody who might come to the door would get a full view of my bare behind sticking up in the air, with my head lowered at the other end of the table. It certainly wasn’t difficult for anyone in that position to figure out what was going on. But just to make sure there was no doubt, one of my brothers would usually announce to whomever was there that “Debbie is getting a spanking on her bare bottom. That’s because she was naughty.”

You can easily imagine my feelings when that doorbell rang, as it sometimes did, and my mother turned away from me to answer it. This didn’t happen every time I was being punished but it did happen enough times to keep me in constant fear that my poor bottom would be publicly exposed in this fashion.

Once my mother had answered the door, if she needed money to pay for something as she sometimes did, she would excuse herself and walk out of the room, leaving the astonished visitor to stare at my fully exposed behind. I suspect that on some occasions she took longer than was really necessary to return.

Now this doesn’t mean that absolutely everybody in the neighborhood saw me when I was being spanked. But among those who did were, among others, two very surprised girls who were out selling girl scout cookies, a railway express delivery man, and a delivery boy from Al’s Pizza Palace, who seemed to get more of a bang out of this than anyone else. In fact it was while the pizza boy was waiting to be paid one day, that I made the mistake that I will never forget.

At the point when the delivery boy rang the doorbell, I was in the especially humiliating position of spreading my cheeks so that my asshole and cunt were on view. After my mother left the room, I put my hands back on the table which allowed my bottom cheeks to return to their normal position. When my mother returned to the room she was absolutely furious. “Everything in your discipline sessions is carefully planned,” she told me, “and you are committing a major crime by changing anything. I can assure you that you will be severely punished for this,” and indeed I was.

I was ordered to go around the house completely naked from Friday after school until Sunday night. I was also ordered while in this condition to keep my hands away from my private parts and leave them fully exposed. I was also told that while in this naked state, my brothers had the right to touch me or pinch me or slap me anywhere on my body that they chose and also to give me a full spanking if they thought it was necessary.

But even that wasn’t enough for Mom. She had to show her younger son Billy who was then nine years old how much fun it would be to put a bit of vaseline on his finger and shove it up my asshole as far as it would go, and then wiggle it around. To make sure he understood she gave him a demonstration that had me begging her to stop, which of course she wouldn’t do. My brothers were also told that if they ever had evidence my anus wasn’t completely clean, to show it to Mom immediately so she could administer a punishment enema on top of everything else.

The only thing that seemed more humiliating to me was the day when my mother invited two of her friends to come over to the house for tea and to see, in case they could use it in their own households, just how I was punished when I needed it. I was put through all of the embarassing situations described above, while her friends watched and laughed uproariously.

Well that about covers how I was treated when I was 15, which you can see was a lot more elaborate than when I was 13. Do you think it got even worse than that? Stay tuned and perhaps you’ll find out!

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