Memories of a College Girl – Forbidden Car Ride

By Louise Vancisic and Tiptopper

Story:  F/f teen

Memories of a College Girl – Forbidden Car Ride

By Louise Vancisic and Tiptopper

Hi again. Remember me?

That’s right. I’m Kaite Dolan, the college girl. You even got the pronunciation and spelling right. I’m totally impressed and flattered.

Thanks so much for your kind words. I was quite moved. So yes, it would be my pleasure to share such memories with you.

I have come to understand that being raised strictly is not something for which I should feel any sense of shame. On the contrary, I believe that the maturity and self-confidence that I project is a direct product of living in a family that set high standards of conduct and performance, promoted responsibility and helped us to achieve. Much of that help was praise for our accomplishments and efforts. Some of that help was punishing us for going astray. 

With six children in tow and a father who worked long hours, my mother chose spanking as her primary means of discipline. Being the oldest I was probably spanked the most. And while spankings were generally private affairs, Mom was not averse to letting, or in some cases, requiring my siblings to be present. 

My three year younger sister Karen has probably seen more of my spankings than any of my other siblings but that is because she is often somehow involved.  She is always trying to imitate me and pretend that she is more grown up than she is.  That has gotten us both into trouble more times than I can count.  For example, there was the episode of the car accident two years ago.

It was in my senior year of high school. Dan Evens was offering rides to a select few kids and I was one of them. 

“Come on”, he cajoled. “I’ll even let you bring your cute kid sister.”

I thought Karen would bust with excitement. And I have to admit I was pretty excited myself. Being the eldest, I’ve always felt compelled to tow the line more than Karen. As my heart leaped for the thrill of flying down the road in a convertible full of excited teens; my brain warned of what would happen if my parents ever found out. I begged off but they kept insisting. Karen assured me that we wouldn’t be caught. In the end for reasons I’ll reveal later, I agreed.

And it was a total blast until the accident; and the confrontation with Mom that occurred an hour after that.

Waiting for the return of our younger sister Lucy whom Mom had dispatched to fetch the hairbrush, I felt sick, and Karen’s face had turned pale. I don’t know if at that moment I felt worse about my mother’s disappointment or her anger. I knew Karen felt the same way. We talked about it often. Our parents were good parents and they listened to whatever we had to say. They always made us feel that our welfare was their number one concern. There were rules in the household but only four that were never given reprieve; disobeying, stealing, jeopardizing safety and lying intentionally.

Lucy came out of Mom’s bedroom holding the implement in her hand and walked toward Mom. I eyed the brush and swallowed real hard. Mom stared at us with pursed lips and held out her hand. Lucy handed her the hairbrush. Mom’s gaze focused on me. I looked back and hung my head.

“I’m sorry Mommy. It was wrong of me to disobey you. I made a big mistake and I can tell you it will never happen again. It’s my fault that Karen got involved. Please don’t punish her. Please.  You can punish me harder.”

The room was silent. Karen looked at me with tears in her eyes. Mom came over and put her hands on my shoulders, the hairbrush in her right hand.

“Oh, I will be punishing you, Kaite. You knew when you went riding in that car that you were disobeying my rule about not accepting rides from other kids unless I approved in advance. You also knew that I made this rule for your safety and that of your sisters. That accident could have been much more serious. You could have been killed; and so could your sister. And while I can’t prove it, I suspect that this was not the first time. Am I correct?’

Her question presented me with a familiar dilemma. If I admitted it then I was setting myself up for additional punishment. If I lied again she probably wouldn’t have believed me anyhow and I’d just make her even madder.

I murmured a “yes, Mommy”.

Mom’s eyes darkened. 

“You’re seventeen years old; a high school senior. I’m quite pleased that you willingly take responsibility for your younger siblings and you’re a great help to me. I appreciate that, and I want you to know I love you very much. But that cannot excuse your deliberate disobedience and complete disregard for the safety of you and your sister.”

I watched as she pulled a chair away from the kitchen table, and motioned me to stand directly in front of her.

 “You’re to stay right there and see what you have caused. And don’t you dare look away. And keep in mind that if your sisters’ or your brother disobey me in the future and you have anything to do with it, I’ll take a strap to your bare bottom, and I’ll take them over my knee in front of you again.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“No, Mom. Please …”

The brush in Mom’s hand moved quickly and snapped hard against the back of my thigh. I gasped and tried to hold back my tears.

“I’m the parent here” she barked, “and you’ll not tell me what to do, young lady. Do you hear me?”

“Ye … yes, Mom, I’m so …sorry,” I stammered as I rubbed my leg.

Mom shifted her eyes and ordered Karen to come forth. She laid the brush on the kitchen table behind her and sat down in the chair, and Karen reluctantly advanced. Fear filled her eyes as she walked over to our mother and stood at her right side. She looked up at me for a moment then back to Mom. 

I was devastated.

“Mom, please don’t spank her. It was my fault. Spank me instead.”

Mom pointed the brush at me.

“It was mostly your fault and rest assured your bottom will pay dearly for that. But I’m not about to let your sister go unpunished for disobeying. You both knew better.”

Mom put her hand on Karen’s shoulder and looked her straight in the eye. “

You disobeyed a fundamental family safety rule. Lift your skirt up to your waist.

Karen bit her lip as she executed Mom’s instructions, exposing her bare thighs and a clear outline of her buttocks. I thought about the hairbrush striking those soft mounds and I wanted so badly to reach out and comfort my sister. But doing so would only provoke our mother even further. I might have done so anyhow if I knew she would only take it out on me. But I couldn’t put Karen in jeopardy.

You might ask at this point why I felt so strongly about wanting to protect Karen. After all it was her encouragement that led us to this mess. My initial polite turn down of the offered ride would have spared us from being involved in the accident. I was always the careful, conservative one; Karen the risk taker. All the other kids took turns cajoling, begging and flattering me to agree but respect, and a healthy dose of fear for my parents kept me saying no. Finally, my own good friend, Margie, invited Karen to come along … without me.

To this day Karen’s response brings beautiful tears to my eyes. She thanked Margie but declined saying that even though I was choosing not to go, she wasn’t going to leave me. Understand that Karen was extremely social conscious and had just turned down an opportunity to hang out with two of the coolest and best looking senior boys. And I remembered the many other times she had put her own popularity on the line to insist that I be included.

“Let’s go Karen”, I smiled and grabbing her arm pulled her with me right  into the back of the convertible. In that moment I felt an exhilaration that comes from taking a big risk, bringing joy to someone I love and getting cheered by my friends. That included my best friend; my sister Karen.

And now, even as I looked at the hairbrush and remembered its past visits to my buttocks, my only concern was for my sister.

Suddenly, in one swift movement Mom pulled Karen over her lap and adjusted the upturned skirt to frame the pantied bottom. Instinctively Karen put out the only hand that could reach behind her, palm upward. 

“Mommy, please don’t” I added, as tears streamed down my face.

Her voice grew sharper as she ordered me to be quiet and Karen to put her hand in front of her and keep it there. I popped my hand over my mouth and Karen quickly shot her free hand to the front. She looked at me and I reached out and took her hand in mine. We both knew that if she attempted to try and get up or reach behind, she would receive additional spanks.

I watched as Mom raised the brush and brought it down on the seat of Karen’s panties. I winced at the sound of solid wood striking tender flesh. Karen’s legs kicked and she cried out. I groaned through my tears when Mom raised her hand and I saw the imprint it left behind on my sister’s bottom right cheek.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Kaite! You open your eyes this instant. I want you to remember this the next time you allow your sister to disobey me.”

I raised my head slowly, choked back more sobs and sagged my shoulders in despair.

Mom’s attention returned to Karen. The brush landed hard and Karen jerked forward and shrieked in pain. As it rebounded from my sister’s quaking bottom I observed Mom’s arm tighten round the slim girlish waist. Tears started from her eyes as Mom raised the hairbrush and brought it down again. The sharp crack it produced against my sister’s tender behind was followed by a piercing wail. An anguished cry of Mommy! poured forth from the suffering teen.

Once more Karen felt the wood leave the safety of her behind and heard its ever-so-faint oncoming sound in the air. Squeezing her eyes closed, she jerked when she felt a streak of fire land across her exposed bottom. She cried out and burst into tears. I sobbed while watching my sister pitch forward kicking her legs. The wood landed hard two more times, and I winced when I saw and heard the sharp angry crack of wood on tender girl-flesh.

Eight blows had fallen and Karen was squirming and sobbing over Mom’s lap. She turned her head back beseechingly.

“Please Mommy”, she sobbed, “please  … no more … I’ll be good.”

My mother’s response was to land the hairbrush like a hot coal.

“Now then, young lady; are you going to take any more rides again without permission?”

The brush bounced off my sister’s right buttock.

“Noooo … Mommy …I won’t …please …I’m so … sorry.”

“And are you going to obey our family rules?”

“Noo …I mean yes” Karen wept as she jerked forward into Mom’s thigh from the impact of the harsh implement.

“What happens to children in this family who deliberately disobey?”

My sister knew the answer she had to say but hesitated.

Mom did not; the hairbrush struck again. .

Karen kicked her legs and crossed and re-crossed her ankles to relieve the awful sting., and sobbed “they … get a spanking.”

The hairbrush swept through the air and thudded against the left buttock.

Karen promised over and over again to be a really good girl.

With each blow, I wanted only to shout for Mom to stop or grab her hand. I wished she could hear my private prayers for her to take me instead and do with me as she willed. I wanted to turn away but feared that she would notice and become even more vexed.

Another insufferable blow addressed the lower ridge of Karen’s exposed rear, distributing terrible, stinging flames across the tops of her thighs, as well. The girl’s legs flailed pathetically as she tried to escape the evil wooden object. Her wails changed to tortured shrieks. She squeezed my hand, her head straining backward, her hips swaying in torment. Her feet executed several jolting kicks.

Mom hit her again. I saw my sister’s bottom tremble and shudder, the deep dark stain beneath the panties that covered the soft flesh giving obvious testament to the completeness of the delivered punishment. Karen’s hips rolled back and forth, her unbridled misery obvious in the desolate contortions. I saw Mom contemplate her handiwork, and then gently set down her weapon and train a sympathetic gaze on the sobbing girl.

Huge, heavy sobs poured from my sister. I watched Mom place a soothing hand on Karen’s heaving back. For a long series of minutes, Mom rubbed gentle circles above the punished flesh, murmuring soft, comforting phrases as my sister’s frenzied lament eventually calmed and quieted. The appeasing circles continued even after Karen’s intense crying descended to quieter weeping and the movement of her buttocks and thighs to little twitches.

Karen’s body relaxed, responding to Mom’s placating ministrations. Her breathing became more regular. Mom continued the tender massage between my sister’s shoulders. “It’s OK, sweetie,” our mother kindly intoned. “I know your bottom is sore, but it’ll recover.” I could see that Mom’s expression was no longer one of grim determination to inflict punishment but genuine sympathy for her suffering child. The softness of her words, her touches and her eyes made me feel that I was in the presence of an angel. This was the specialness of my parents; when punishment has been administered there is no hesitation to initiate reconciliation and remind us that we are always loved. And that we could remain safely atop the parental lap until we were ready to stand up.

Eventually Mom helped Karen to her feet, and holding the skirt in her own hands, guided my sister to the corner. There, whispering softly she gently led Karen’s fingers to take hold of the hem and keep the skirt in position.

And now it would be my turn.  Mom beckoned me to her side

“Down with your pants,” she said.

As soon as I complied she pulled me over her lap.

“I know that you wanted to save your sister by wanting to take the blame yourself but Karen knows what the rules are and she chose to break them.  There are consequences to your actions even if others are urging you on,” Mom explained.  However you were right in saying that you were more to blame, accordingly your punishment is going to be more severe.  Lift up.”

When she said that, I knew that my panties were going to be taken down.  I couldn’t really protest as I had already told her that Karen was less at fault than I was.  Still as I felt Mom put her fingers  into the waistband of my underwear and start sliding it down over my bottom I was embarrassed and scared as I knew that my spanking was going to be harder than what Karen had gotten.

When she had pushed my panties down to join my pants at my knees she continued pushing until she had taken off both my panties and pants.  She tossed both garments aside.  Talk about feeling vulnerable!   I wasn’t seventeen years old anymore and in high school, suddenly I was five and back in kindergarten, at least that it was what it felt like.  I could feel my face get red.  Unfortunately I knew that soon that was not going to be the reddest part of my anatomy. 

When she reached down to pick up the dreaded hairbrush that she had lain on the floor I shivered in fear.  Maybe my insistence on telling Mom that I was mostly to blame for our disobedience was not such a good idea, especially since it had not spared Karen.

Mom pulled me in to a better position and I could tell by the way her movements were rough that she was seething.  I was really frightened and I was glad that I had used the bathroom when I first came home as otherwise I might have peed my pants, if I were wearing any pants, that is.  The thought flashed into my mind of how horrible her reaction would be if I piddled on her new carpet that was just installed last month.

Mom gave me a preliminary pat on my bum and I nearly jumped out of my skin.  I heard her softly chuckle when I winced, she knew that this correction was getting to me psychologically as well as it would physically.

She raised the hairbrush and then paused.  I trembled, waiting for that first spank to land.  And I waited and waited some more.  I knew that she was doing this on purpose to increase my anxiety and I’m sure that she could feel me trembling. 

“Oh no!” I thought, “No more waiting!  Please just start.”

CRACK! 

The hairbrush landed with a flash of fire and I got my wish but instantly wished that I hadn’t.  It hurt like hell!  I could feel the imprint from the brush burning in the center of my left cheek.

CRACK! 

The second blow landed on the right cheek.  God did that sting!  There was no warm up, Mom was giving it all she had right from the start.

CRACK! 

A third spank landed followed quickly by many more.  There didn’t seem to be any pattern; left, right, high and then low, I never could predict when they would strike.  All that I could predict was that each one was going to be pure pain. 

The carpet pattern that was inches from nose was already blurry as the tears welled up in my eyes and trickled down my cheeks.  But it was the cheeks at the opposite end of my anatomy that had all my attention and those cheeks were blazing.

Mom was going to town on my posterior and the spanks were adding up quickly; ten, fifteen, twenty, I didn’t know how many.  My math skills were impeded by the blinding pain in my buttocks.  My mother really knows how to make a girl’s bum sting and she was applying all her knowledge to my tender young ass. 

Mom kept whaling away and I kept wailing at the top of my voice.  My feet were drumming on  the carpet.  Some of the spanks were landing on my thighs and, with my legs scissoring as they were, occasionally that wicked hairbrush would strike my inner thighs.  When that would happen I thought that I would faint from the pain.  I wished that I would faint; anything to end this devilish torment.  However unconsciousness eluded me, in fact I was extremely consciousness of every tortured nerve ending in my lower body.

I howled.  I begged.  I pleaded.  Mom totally ignored me.  Of course I was probably completely incoherent at that point anyway. 

Finally Mom stopped.  I didn’t know how long the spanking had been going on.  It seemed like forever.  When I was let up I grabbed my buns in both hands and did the familiar dance around the room with tears and snot running down my contorted face.  It was a dance that I was an expert at; I have had plenty of practice over the years. 

After a short lecture Mom dismissed us to nurse our wounds.  Later when we compared our bottoms Karen’s buttocks were red and angry looking but mine were worse, puffy and swollen.  Both my bum and my upper thighs ranged in color from magenta to purple.  Sitting down was going to be difficult for the next few days.  In my case even walking was going to be painful.  We were two very repentant teens.