Spanking Camp
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Spanking Camp
Stories about girls getting pantsed, stripped and humiliated by anyone or anything.
I started this one years ago but decided to actually write the ending finally today!
I may one day write a short follow up for the stripping and fate of the rest of Bear Cabin and maybe even the embarassment of the next day for the girls but for now this is all you get! It's a decent place to end it as it's own start along short!
Also I finally did it... I wrote a camp story!
Hope you all enjoyed SDS xx
With love SDS xxx
Archive of my stories can be found here: https://www.girlspns.com/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=1432
Another story that I would be happy to have a sequel, well done SDS
Thanks both!
Like I said not likely any time soon but maybe one day!
Sds xx
With love SDS xxx
Archive of my stories can be found here: https://www.girlspns.com/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=1432
SDS wrote: ↑ Wed Jul 14, 2021 8:22 am
Thanks both!
Like I said not likely any time soon but maybe one day!
Sds xx
Yea I agree, I've been trying to write more constrained stories rater than long epics. Probably even more controversally I belive that my story 'I'm not a littel Girl' probably falls into this catagory and would have been better multiple shorter stories haha!
With love SDS xxx
Archive of my stories can be found here: https://www.girlspns.com/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=1432
Just reading back, I didn't mean your stories, generally I've liked anything you've written
dublinjohn wrote: ↑ Wed Jul 14, 2021 9:05 pm
Just reading back, I didn't mean your stories, generally I've liked anything you've written
With love SDS xxx
Archive of my stories can be found here: https://www.girlspns.com/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=1432
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A board for stories about girls pantsing and stripping others or getting pantsed and stripped
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ADULT FANTASY STORY. MATERNAL SPANKINGS. ALL CHARACTERS
FICTIONAL. IF YOU ARE NOT OVER 18, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER.
READING THIS STORY MEANS YOU ARE OVER 18.
Back in the late 50s, I spent one of my last high school summers working
as a junior counselor at Camp Roanoke in North Carolina. The camp was run by a
pleasant couple in their early forties, Joseph and Betsy Zemmer. Helping them
were five senior counselors, all college-age or older, and five junior
counselors in their final years of high school. The camp was relatively small,
with about fifty boys between the ages of ten and fourteen, divided into five
cabins of ten. Each cabin had a senior and junior counselor. I was seventeen at
the time and helped supervise a cabin of twelve year old boys. Camp Roanoke
began in mid-June and offered eight weeks of swimming, sailing, canoing,
fishing, tennis, basketball, baseball, archery, and overnight camping trips.
There were also bonfires, evening sing alongs, and games of Capture the Flag.
While Mr. Zemmer handled the day to day running of the camp, his wife
supervised the cooking staff, managed the paper work, and took care of some of
the disciplinary problems which arose. In general, we counselors dealt with
minor infractions by confining boys to their cabins when everyone else was
water skiing or playing games. Repeat offenders and more serious trouble makers
were sent to Mrs. Zemmer's house where they learned a good lesson over her
knee. While such methods of discipline are infrequent today, especially outside
the home, spanking was quite common back then, not just in homes but also in
schools, Sunday schools, and even some summer camps.
Like most of my friends in North Carolina, I grew up with a Mommy who was
a firm believer in corporal punishment and who gave babysitters and teachers
permission to handle us the same way when necessary. Since Mommy spanked on
Sunday night after surveying the week's infractions, I grew up dreading the
arrival of "spanking night" (as we called it). There were many Sundays when I
found myself waiting anxiously with my pants and underpants at half mast while
Mommy spanked one or both of my younger brothers first. Billy and Jonny were
four and two years younger than me, respectively. When Mommy had to discipline
more than one child, she always began with the youngest first. That way, as she
explained, the juvenile nature of the punishment would be driven home more
effectively for any older boy waiting his turn. As she often told me,
"If you don't want to be punished like a little boy, David, all you have to
do is start acting your age. If you insist on behaving like a child, I will
continue to punish you like one. You may feel you're too big to be spanked but
believe me, you're not. And who could argue with her, especially when all of
their attention was focused on a red-hot bottom."
With two younger brothers, there were still plenty of Sunday spankings at
home after I turned sixteen. While I tried not to appear too interested, I
usually found some excuse to hang around the living room. I suppose watching my
brothers' spankings lap allowed me to relive my own past experiences without
having to endure the worst of it. Strangely enough, when Mommy stopped spanking
me, my interest in the whole subject only increased. In part, it may have been
my school situation where paddlings were a constant threat. Though they were
rarely used after tenth grade, one still had to be careful, especially if you
had a mom like mine. Whenever any of us got a bad grade on a report card or a
big exam, we got two spankings, one at home and one the next day at school.
Mommy always made us write a letter to our teacher or the assistant principal,
Mrs. Rowlands, explaining why we had done so poorly. With most kids, school
paddlings were given over the clothes during the day with the student bent over
a desk in a teacher's office. Whenever I had earned a paddling at school, Mommy
told Mrs. Rowlands to wait until after school so she would have more time to
deal with me. With Mommy's permission, Mrs. Rowlands always spanked me bare
bottom since she knew this was acutely embarrassing for someone my age. She
would leave me waiting in the corner of her office with my pants down while she
took care of some errands. By the time she returned and took me over her lap, I
really did feel more like a little child than a teenager. I certainly cried
like one when her spanking began.
Given my personal experiences, I perked up at the orientation for camp
counselors when Mrs. Zemmer told us to send any really naughty campers to her.
Suddenly, it seemed as if I might hear or see more spankings that summer. And
the fact that Mrs. Zemmer would be doing the spanking made that prospect even
more appealing. To my mind, she was incredibly sexy, plump but in a sensual
way, with hour-glass curves accented by low-cut sundresses, softly flowing
cotton skirts, and perfume which suggested violets and roses. When she moved,
she rustled and swayed in a way which made my heart jump. As soon as she
mentioned spanking, I began fantasizing about what it might be like to be a
naughty camper sent to her for punishment.
At the start of the second week, I had my first experience with Mrs.
Zemmer's methods. I was just finishing up a late afternoon conoeing lesson with
my ten boys, divided into four canoes. As we headed back across the small lake
and neared the camp dock, Tommy Finley began paddling the canoe in a manner
which splashed the boy seated in front of him. Egged on by his neighbor's
complaints, Tommy continued splashing him while pretending to be paddling
normally. Soon a shoving match erupted and before I could do anything, the
tippy canoe flipped over and began sinking in four feet of water just off the
dock. Since all the boys were wearing life preservers and knew how to swim, no
great harm was done except for an Instamatic camera which got wet and seemed
ruined. (It later recovered once it dried out.) Since Tommy had already been
reprimanded earlier that day for another incident, I realized he had earned a
trip to Mrs. Zemmer. After righting the canoe, securing all the boats, and
getting the boys back to their cabin for the quiet hour which preceded dinner,
I took Tommy aside and quietly told him to accompany me to Mrs. Zemmer's. Since
all the campers knew what that meant, he immediately begged me to ground him
for the soccer game scheduled for that evening. But I shook my head firmly and
reminded him that he had already been warned once that day.
Most times, naughty boys were sent to Mrs Zemmer on their own since
counselors had to stay with his charges. Fortunately for me, Tommy's
misbehavior came just before quiet hour when the boys were safely confined to
their cabin. Though that was usually the time when the counselors got together,
I had better things in mind as I marched Tommy across the meadow and through
the path in the woods to the other side of camp where the Zemmers lived. It was
set at a considerable distance from the cabins and sports fields to ensure
peace and quiet.
As we reached the house, I spotted Mrs. Zemmer seated in a rocker,
knitting on the porch. Reading Tommy's glum and anxious expression, she guessed
immediately what had happened and greeted us by saying,
"It looks like we have a naughty little boy on our hands, doesn't it,
David."
"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Zemmer. Tommy's been a handful all day. I had to warn
him this morning about fighting but it seems like he needs more than a warning.
On the way back from our canoe trip, he tipped over a canoe and probably
wrecked Jimmy Larkin's camera. Since it happened just as we were heading in for
quiet hour, I thought I'd make sure Tommy came up here myself."
"Well, you did the right thing, David. Now then, Thomas Finley, what do
you have to say for yourself? Hmmm?"
Tommy's feeble attempts to justify his behavior was quickly cut off.
"No, no, I don't want any excuses, young man. You were caught rough
housing for the second time in one day and because of your behavior, Jimmy
Larkin may need a new camera. Grounding you for half a day is obviously not
going to work in this case. You need to learn a better lesson and I know just
how to teach it to you. Come inside, Thomas Finley, and let me show you how I
handle naughty boys here."
With that, Mrs. Zemmer put aside her knitting and rose from her chair.
Taking Tommy firmly by the left ear with her left hand, she escorted him across
the porch and delivered three hard spanks to his bathing suit, still wet from
his spill at the lake. As an aside to me, she added,
"You might as well come in too David. There's no harm in your seeing how I
treat boys who misbehave. Don't you attend Baptist Christian Academy?"
"Well then you're no stranger to paddlings, yourself, are you? Don't they
use spanking at BCA?"
With my face flushed, I managed to stammer "Yes" as I followed Mrs. Zemmer
and Tommy into the house. With some effort, Mrs. Zemmer marched the
foot-dragging child to a straight-backed chair where she seated herself.
Holding him now by the wrist, she continued scolding him.
"Thomas Finley, it's all too clear that you need some good, old-fashioned
medicine. I'm going to give you a sound, bare-bottom spanking and I hope you
learn a good lesson on how to behave at this camp. From now on, any misbehavior
will earn you another trip over my knee. I'll make sure David brings you right
back here if there is any more trouble. Do I make myself clear?"
By this time, Tommy was too upset to reply coherently and was beginning to
cry. Despite his struggles to tug away, he was no match for Mrs. Zemmer. First
she bent to slip off his sneakers and socks. She then pulled her white cotton
skirt up, commenting,
"We don't want you to wrinkle this new skirt of mine, do we Tommy."
Without waiting for an answer, she yanked him across her lap and pulled
him over further until his head hung down near the floor and his feet kicked
helplessly in the air. Swiftly pinning his wrists in the small of his back with
her left hand, she peeled his wet bathing suit down and completely off. This
set off an immediate chorus of loud protests which mingled with a more genuine
crying as if Tommy realized the irrevocable process of his spanking has already
begun and there was nothing he could do.
"Before I finish with you, young man, your bottom is going to be bright
red and you're going to be crying real tears. I always spank long and I spank
hard and your first spanking is going to be no exception, do you hear me?
SPANK SPANK SPANK Yes, indeed, SPANK SPANK Thomas Finley SPANK
SPANK you are going SPANK SPANK to be a SPANK SPANK
very well SPANK SPANK spanked SPANK SPANK little boy
SPANK SPANK before I'm through."
She paused, and gestured for me to take a seat on the sofa directly
across from her before continuing. From that position, I could see every detail
of Tommy's punishment. My heart pounded even faster when I realized I could
also see between Mrs Zemmer's legs all the way to a some very lacey pink
panties nestled deeply between her plump thighs. As Tommy wriggled back and
forth, his little willy danced back and forth against her legs. My own penis
got even harder and I continued my discreet attempts to hide it with my hands.
Mrs. Zemmer spanked vigorously with short swings of the hand and a lot of
wrist motion. She alternated cheeks and moved around on each cheek as she
spanked back and forth. By now Tommy had given up protesting and surrendered to
a loud crying interspersed with pleas for no more spanking. But Mrs. Zemmer
simply ignored these cries and continued painting a rosy shade of pink onto his
bouncing white fanny. Held firmly over her lap with his bare legs kicking
furiously, Tommy grew increasingly desperate in his cries as he realized there
was nothing he could do. As his bottom grew progressively redder, his crying
seemed to take on a more juvenile tone.
Without pausing, Mrs. Zemmer looked up and me and commented,
"David, I hope you're paying attention. In my experience, boys who are
Tommy's age usually look and sound more like second or third graders once
they're stripped below the waist like little babies and spanked soundly over my
knee. Last summer, I even had to spank one of the junior counselors after he
stole some money and he was no different. I think he was about your age but he
behaved more like a ten year old once I put him across my lap."
As I realized Mrs Zemmer was hinting I was not too old to be spanked, blood
surged to my genitals, bottom, and face. It was clear to both of us that her
message had hit home. The thought of being turned over her lap and reduced to a
half-naked, crying little boy was too much for me to imagine. It was all too
clear Mrs Zemmer knew exactly how to regress naughty youngsters so they got the
full emotional as well as physical measure of their punishment. For the rest of
Tommy's spanking, I was in a half-daze, my attention riveted on Tommy's red
bottom and Mrs Zemmer's thighs while my mind raced in fantasies that I was
kicking over her lap. Later that night, I masturbated in my cabin bed, tossing
and turning as I resolved to do something to earn a spanking on a quiet day
when no one was around.
Disclaimer: As I child growing up in the 1970's, I wasn't a stranger to
over the knee bare-bottom spankings. It's seems to me that in that era most
mothers used it as a way to keep naughty children in line. This however, is a
work of fiction about a stepmother and much older stepsister who find OTK
spankings the best way to deal with a brat.
Johnny didn't move as he waited for his step mother to come to the door. From
the outside he could hear her footsteps as she got closer.
The young eight-year old boy wanted to run, but the police officer had a firm
grip on his shoulder.
"Good morning Ms, I'm Officer Kevin Jarett, are you this young man's mother?"
"Mrs. Thompson, Johnny was caught with a group of boys lighting firecrackers
and setting little fires in the woods," the office said. "Now, no formal
charges have been filed, but the owner has taken out an order to keep the
boys off the property. If they go there again, they will be arrested."
"I understand," she said. "I can assure you he won't get in any more trouble.
Of course he may not be able to sit down for a week, but he won't cause you
any more problems."
The officer tipped his hat and flashed a slight grin.
"That's the way my mother would have handled it too," he said.
"She must have been a smart lady," Jana said. "You have a nice day, and thank
you again."
With that Jana led Johnny into the house and right into the kitchen.
Johnny knew that was bad news.
Jana had been married to Johhny's father for about 2 years and had taken over
much of the disciplining of her young stepson since Johnny's father traveled
the country covering sports for a major magazine.
Jana was 45 years old, but looked 10 years younger. With flowing blond hair
and a body sculputured body from hours spent in the gym, Jana was still
considered to be very hot.
The gym wasn't the only place she got a workout these days. For the last
eight months or so, she had been using spanking as a method to control
Johnny. At first she, hesitated since she wasn't his real mother, but as his
behavior seemed to go down hill, she convinced Johnny's father to let her
give it a try.
Jana had used spanking as a method to punish her own daughter up to the time
she went away to college, and she was well adjusted.
Johnny knew that being led to the kitchen was bad news, since that was the
room Jana used carried out his punishments.
"Young man, I'm very disappointed you," she said. "You know we have to leave for
the airpot to go pick up your sister, and I told you not to get in any
trouble."
Johnny didn't answer. However, he hated it when Jana called Stephanie his
sister.
Although, he liked her well enough, he didn't feel a kinship.
The little pyro thought for a moment since they had to leave for the airport
he was going to be saved by the bell.
However, there was no such luck.
While she was finishing up her lecture, Jana reached down a with a quick tug and
pulled down his loose fitting shorts and underwear.
"Young man step out of those clothes," she ordered.
He did as he was told.
Jana then took a sit in one of the kitchen chairs and ordered Johnny over her
knee.
WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK!
J
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