Southern girl (M/F story)

It was shortly after my nineteenth birthday that I received the invitation from my aunt and uncle to stay at their house in the southern US for the summer. As I wondered whether to accept their offer, there was one factor that affected my decision. For as long as I could remember, I'd had an interest in spanking, diving into the darker corners of the internet in my frantic search. There was no thought that piqued my interest more than a young woman getting her bottom bared, before being pulled over someone's lap for a long, hard spanking.

One of the things I'd heard most about, as far as the Southern US was concerned, was country whippings: young women being dragged into the woodshed for a good dose of the paddle, or being forced to cut their own switches. If I decided to go, I reckoned there was a small chance I'd hear some juicy stories, or perhaps, if I was lucky, I'd get to witness one myself! I didn't know how often young men like myself got to watch these unfortunate young ladies during their punishments, but I saw no harm in being optimistic. I decided to leave Europe for the first time in my life.

I could tell you about meeting my aunt and uncle, seeing the US for the first time, getting to know my cousin Jane, and exploring my new surroundings, but all that would have been frightfully boring, so I'll skip to the interesting part: Kathy.

Kathy was the second daughter of my uncle's closest neighbour. She was a year older than me, a tall girl with red hair, a bright smile and the shortest skirt I'd ever seen on a woman whose name didn't end with ".jpg". She'd offered to show me around town, and even though I'd seen most of what little there was to see around here, I accepted the offer. If there is ever a chance to follow a girl in a short skirt around all day, it shouldn't be wasted.

A few hours later, we were walking around the fields south of town, while Kathy was talking my ear off with some sort of gossip. I wasn't really paying attention, mainly enjoying the sound of her Southern drawl while wondering how I'd steer the conversation over to my favourite topic. You see, I'd already decided I wanted to hear all about this young lady's spankings, and I would prefer it if I could somehow convince her to tell me herself. I just couldn't see a way to change the subject without being too obvious.

In the end, I gave up and went with a far blunter approach. "Kathy, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure!" she said cheerily.

"It's a bit.... personal, and I don't know if you want to answer it."

"Well, until you ask it, I don't know either," she pointed out.

"Have you ever been spanked?" I said, staring at the horizon. After a few seconds, I looked over at her.

She was staring at me, eyes open wide. "What do you want to know that for?"

I shrugged, trying my hardest to seem like I didn't really care whether she answered or not. "Just curious. I'm trying to see if the things I've heard about the US are true, and one of the things I've heard is that American parents are a lot stricter than their European counterparts."

"I guess that makes sense," she said. "But yes."

"Yes, what?" I asked.

"Yes, I've been spanked. Lots of times, actually," she said, as calmly as if she was discussing the weather. "My butt's felt the belt plenty of times, let me tell you."

Bingo, I thought. Now, how to get as many details out her as possible? "Your dad uses a belt?" I asked, trying to appear both shocked and sympathetic – the former was easy, the latter less so.

"Not JUST that, off course," she said while she started walking again. "A couple of paddles, the yardstick, and sometimes, if I'm really bad, he'll take out the BIRCH." She looked around, as if she was afraid talking about it would summon a birch out of thin air. When it failed to appear, she continued. "Ma uses the brush and a wooden spoon, when she has to, but usually, she sends me to my room and waits for Dad to take care of it."

"You keep using the word 'uses'," I pointed out. "Don't you mean 'used'?"

She shook her head. "Oh no, I'm still spanked, I can promise you that." She looked up while she searched her memory. "Let's see, my last spanking was probably on Friday, so a little less than a week ago. I'd stayed out past my curfew, so Dad took me over his knee and took out the small paddle – about the size of a ping pong paddle. Blistered my butt like crazy." She glanced over at me. "Are you ok? You look pale, and it sounds like you're breathing a bit heavy." Her voice was full of concern.

"I'm fine, just tired," I told her. "I'm not used to walking so far." In reality, the image of this lovely girl draped over a lap, bare bottom paddled until she cried, had filled my head, and I had some trouble concentrating.

"Let's go down to the river," she said. "It's a bit cooler, and you can rest. Anyway, where was I? Last Friday. I thought I'd never sit again, but a few days later, the bruises were gone." She turned her back to me, flipping up her skirt to reveal her panties. "See?" she said, pointing at her cheeks. "Not a mark on me. I heal quickly," she said and smiled. Or at least, I assume she did. I wasn't looking at her face.

"Your breathing's gotten worse," she said, sounding concerned. "It's not far now, then you can rest for a bit."

"Thank you," I said. "That's very kind." Or something to that effect, my mind was elsewhere.

We sat under the trees for a while, dipping our feet in the cold river while she told me all about her spankings. "Sometimes," she told me, "He makes me do corner time on the porch – I have to face the wall, bare from the waist down, on display to anyone who happens to walk past. Can you believe it?"

I shook my head, wondering whether I'd be lucky enough to witness this during my stay. I vowed to always keep my camera phone on me until I did. Some things should be preserved.

"And then, he tells me that I shouldn't talk about my spankings – it's private, he says." She raised her hands in the air in frustration. "Well, it's not very private when I'm on the porch, I can promise you that."

"You just told me," I pointed out.

She looked at me with confusion in her eyes. "Huh?"

"You said your father didn't want you to talk about your punishments. Well, you've just told me all about them."

She clasped her hands in front of her mouth, as if she hoped to catch the words and put them back in. "Oh no! I forgot! I'll get the birch for this!"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. He doesn't need to find out," I told her. While the thought of Kathy being bent over for the birch was VERY appealing to me, she looked so cute and vulnerable I just had to comfort her. I just wasn't cruel enough, I guess.

She smiled at me. "Thanks. You're so kind, you know that?" Suddenly, she looked sad. "But I broke my promise. I SHOULD be punished, it's only fair. But he'll use birch, I just know it. Anything but the birch..." she said, staring at the water.

A thought occurred to me – a thought so appealing I had to look away so that she wouldn't spot the huge grin on my face. "What if I punish you?" I said, once I'd finally gotten my facial features somewhat under control.

She looked up at me. "What do you mean?"

"I take you over my knee and spank you. You're punished for your mistake, but my hand will be a lot less painful than the birch."

She bit her lip. "I don't know," she said. "I'd feel pretty embarrassed going over your knee, considering you're younger than me."

"Well, that's what makes it a punishment," I told her. "It wouldn't do you any good if it wasn't embarrassing." I shrugged. "But it's your call, I'm just offering," I said, trying to pretend I suggested it for HER sake.

"I guess that makes sense." She got to her feet, looking around at the woods around us. "No one ever comes down here, so this is as good a spot as any," she said. "Why don't you sit down on that tree stump over there?"

This was actually happening, I thought to myself as I sat down. A beautiful woman was about to go over my knee for a spanking. I'd pinch myself, but if this was a dream, I didn't want to wake up.

Kathy raised her skirt, lowered her panties to her knees, and leaned over my lap, giving me access to one of the most well-formed derrières I'd ever laid eyes on. I pushed her slightly forward, so that her feet were off the ground, like in the stories I'd read online. I wanted to watch her feet kick. I rested my right hand on her bottom, wondering whether she'd protest if I squeezed her cheeks.

"You don't have to wait any more. I'm ready," she told me as she looked up at me. "Well, as ready as I'll ever be," she said, trying to put on a brave smile.

The first few smacks were, I'll admit, pretty weak. I'd never done this before, and I wasn't entirely sure how hard you were supposed to hit. By the pathetic clapping sound my hand made, the paleness of her cheeks and the complete silence of the girl across my knees, my guess was that the answer was 'A bit harder than that'.

I added a few more slaps, each harder than the previous, and after about a dozen, I got a small reaction: Kathy let out a small 'ow!', and a pink hand print appeared on her bottom before disappearing again.

I kept spanking, harder and harder, and soon, Kathy was kicking her legs, letting out cute little yelps every time my hand landed on her naked skin. I'd gotten into a sort of rhythm, moving from cheek to cheek. Slowly, her bottom was turning pink, and I aimed for the paler parts to make sure her entire backside was the same shade.

She had tears in her eyes, making her cute face look even cuter. I was in heaven, and I wanted it to go on forever.

But of course, it had to stop. When Kathy started kicking her legs, promising to be good, I decided she'd had enough. I helped her to her feet, giving her a hug as she rubbed her stinging rear.

"Thanks," she'd told me. "I'm glad you're such a good friend. I don't know if I could have done this to someone – make them cry like this. I'm lucky you're more determined than me." She kissed my cheek. "Thank you."

I have to admit, I felt like a bastard for manipulating such a sweet girl. Of course, if I could turn back time, I'd do the same thing again. That butt was seriously CUTE!

It was morning, I sat in my room, thinking about the events of the previous day. One thing bothered me: I'd had an erection all through the spanking. Kathy must have felt it, it was poking her right in the stomach. Why hadn't she said anything? Was she thinking about other things, like her impending punishment, and her broken promise? I shrugged. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

Jane entered, wondering if I wanted to play darts. "Sure," I said to my cousin, "But could I ask you something first?" I wanted to know how often Kathy was placed on the porch, so I'd know if I had any chance of seeing it during my stay. "I heard a rumour in town yesterday, about Kathy?"

"What about her?" Jane asked.

"Well... someone told me she is sometimes birched, and placed on the porch to do corner time. Is that true?"

She grinned. "Telling stories to the city boy again, huh? Who was it? Was it Sally, that little brat? Or Joe? I'll knock his teeth out, the stinking -"

"I don't remember who it was," I said hastily. "It's not true then?"

"That girl hasn't been spanked in her life," Jane said.

I blinked, trying to process this new information. "Never?"

"Well, I don't spend all day peeking in through their windows," she told me. "But as far as I know, no." She looked at me. "Why do you ask, by the way?"

I shrugged, trying to hide my sudden and utter confusion. "I thought it sounded cruel," I told her. "I wondered whether we should call the police – cruelty like that can't be legal."

"Always the knight in shining armour, huh?" Jane grinned. "Well, this damsel isn't in distress, so don't charge in. Now, are we going to go outside so I can kick your ass in darts or not?"


She'd been manipulating me, I realized. I was sitting outside, back to a fence as I thought about everything that had happened. That devious little minx. Lied to me right from the start to get what she wanted. Of course, I'd be a lot more upset if 'what she wanted' was something other than 'getting me to spank those lovely cheeks of her a nice, rosy colour."

"Looking thoughtful there. What're you thinking about?"

I looked up. Kathy was standing at the other side of the fence, leaning over it to look at me. "So everything was a lie?"

She nodded. "Every last word. These sweet cheeks of mine hadn't received as much as a smack before you got to town," she said, slapping herself on the behind. "You should be happy. You got the honour of being my first." I said nothing, and she began to pout. "But you're right, I guess," she said. "I shouldn't have lied to you like that. That was very, very naughty of me." She fluttered her eyelids. "Perhaps you, with your big, city-educated brain can think of some way I can be punished for that?"

She was right. I could.