Complicit in My Spanking

I sat with the nerdy girls at school. I hadn't really anywhere else to go. I had fairly close friends once but gradually we drifted apart. There seemed too much I wasn't interested in or couldn't talk about. I was very quiet now at school. I could have sat with the alpha group as one of the acolytes but I certainly couldn't prattle about lipstick and make-ups all day or boys, who were a constant source of both frustration and irritation to me. I was quite pretty and boys did make the effort at times but I wanted one who was able to be in charge of the situation. I was lacking in confidence, I didn't want to have to deal with a boy who was scared of offending me every time he did anything, I wanted someone who could take charge and lead. I certainly wasn't a leader. Even though I was quite good at running I was pretty useless at team sports as I never knew what I should be doing, needed to be told what to do all the time. Anyhow boys seemed to fizzle out after a short while; I didn't know whether it was my boredom or theirs. Boys seemed so good at projecting confidence but having so little, so that after a while I just gave up and concentrated on my studies.

I was constantly having crushes on my teachers though. It didn't matter whether they were men or women. They looked kindly on me though, I guess they knew but they never let it be known they knew. I spent most of the time on my own. I'd run on my own a lot and I walked too. At home I tried to keep out of the way and did my homework in my room and any other school research that was useful. At school I developed an interest in art history and worked my way to very good grades in all my subjects. I had deferred my place at uni so I could earn some money and worked in a lawyers office going through old dusty files and putting them on the computers.

My elder sister, Eleanor, when she was at home, kept out of the way too, probably more than me. She was two years older than me and worked and though we had been close once, since Mum remarried things had been, well, difficult.

Eleanor and I were her bridesmaids on the day after I was 18. We had all been pleased when Mum remarried. Brian was an amusing and likeable man, quite handsome too for an oldie. In fact there were loads of good things about him, things we all liked. It was only the spankings.

They began straight after the honeymoon. Neither Eleanor nor I expected them and they were a shock to say the least though I guess Mum must have known. In the first three months I had only received one spanking, I learnt quickly and I had never been badly behaved, always finding it easier to do as I was told even before the spankings, but Eleanor received loads. We were both too old to be spanked but it was Eleanor who argued about it and made it worse for herself. From the beginning we just knew that we couldn't talk about it with anyone. It wasn't the kind of thing one could, I guess. No one would understand, it would always be shameful if anyone found out. So it was only mentioned between the two of us and rarely then.

We were spanked over Brian's knee in the sitting room, with our all lower clothing removed and the rest of the family there to watch. Not only did Eleanor have far more punishments than me but she found them really difficult to accept. We didn't fight them though, not physically, and even though Eleanor argued loudly we always complied. Mum stood by watching but never commented or interfered though I could see her embarrassment as her neck and chest had red blotches on them and her eyes looked watery. After six months Brian realised that I was not getting much punishment and he changed the rules. I was to be punished whenever Eleanor was, we were sisters and should take responsibility for each other. It was this that pushed Eleanor and me further apart I think. I thought it unfair to be punished because of her but knew it was pointless arguing. I also think Eleanor found the guilt she felt about it difficult.

It was obviously very embarrassing taking off our clothes in front of Brian but we did it. Looking back I have to say I am surprised but we did. I was younger and accepted everything I was told to do mostly but Eleanor was not only argumentative but obviously older, her figure fuller and she was far more into boys more. She argued that we were far too old and it was humiliating but to no good. I agreed but wasn't going to argue. Even though it was embarrassing, Mum was there and she was going along with this, with the spankings and with Brian seeing us down there, so we did as we were told. Although I think it was the humiliation for Eleanor that was the most difficult to bear. Afterwards we would both grab our clothing and go to our own rooms. I would rub cream on my bottom as well as shamefully rubbing my pussy to take my mind off what had happened until I gave myself an orgasm.

Surprisingly, I gradually found that I was able to let myself accept the pain as I was spanked, as if I could open up to it and let it flow over me more. Then, the other things became more noticeable, the heat especially, as it wormed itself through my entire hips, and then the throbbing between my legs as I could feel my pussy swelling and my nipples hardening. I also became very aware of Brian's erection pressing against my body too. I hadn't realised, before but as I began watching Eleanor being spanked more closely, how much her pussy lips became prominent when we were over his knee. Hers didn't seem to swell like mine. After accepting the pain the idea of others seeing my arousal and the display of my lips gradually affected me, especially as I knew of my own strange arousal. I couldn't see much evidence with Eleanor and I began to wonder if everyone else could tell that my pussy lips were getting swollen and damp, which caused yet more humiliating feelings. Mixed in with everything else was the awareness of the now constant need to finger myself after a spanking. It had become a very necessary habit. Although I was never argumentative, and now I was coping with the pain well the other feelings made me feel very accepting and submissive. I was accepting my spankings more and more and I suspect Eleanor realised this as she obviously wasn't.

A couple of months after I was spanked because of only her Eleanor moved out and went to live with some friends. It could have been that she thought I might not get if if she wasn't there but I think it simply because she couldn't take it any more. Of course I missed her being around, though I was grateful that there was little dissent in the household and it felt much more peaceful. Now much of the focus was on me.

Within a couple of days Mum came to me to explain that there were to be changes regarding the spankings again. We sat on the bed in my room and talked through what was to happen. Within a short while she told me that me she hadn't liked the arguments and shouting when we were spanked before. I agreed but also that I thought things would be different without Eleanor there. Suddenly, as I was speaking, it occurred to me that I had never thought they would end, simply presumed that they would continue even if Eleanor was gone. I felt myself blushing. It turned out that both she and I were to be spanked when either one of us did wrong, as Eleanor and I had been. I hadn't realised that Mum had been spanked at all before but she admitted she had been quite often. She laughed, telling me that I would probably get as many because of her as I had because of Eleanor. It turned out she was right. During this discussion Mum had gradually relaxed and I, and no doubt Mum, realised that, although I hadn't been asked directly, I hadn't disagreed to either the principle or the specifics. Neither of us came out and said it but as we spoke it became accepted that now I would never object.

I remember her blushingly when she admitted she didn't dislike it and the sex they always had afterwards was the best she had had. I was shocked. I didn't really want all that information but it was interesting to know it wasn't only me that became aroused. She asked whether I masturbated afterwards, my face immediately blazed and my answer needn't be admitted verbally.

By the time I left for university Mum and I were having regular spankings every Sunday regardless of wrongdoings. It had just become easier that way. Initially I was shocked when Mum turned up totally naked for our first spanking together. I was still wearing a sweater and bra but she wore nothing at all and that included pubic hair. I found myself very conscious of Mum's body and I knew she was always very embarrassed to show it to anyone at all. Brian must have been making a point I realised. She had kept herself trim and looked good. Her tits were still relatively firm, her nipples were long and so were her inner lips, which showed whenever you looked.

A few months into the new regime Mum persuaded me that I too should become fully naked for the spankings and shave my pubes as it was unfair on her. I was dreadfully embarrassed about it. Being totally naked was far, far worse, I had nowhere to hide, and the way my body reacted was much too obvious. To me, and to everyone else. Now I was fully displayed to Brian regardless of how I felt. Brian made it clear that he appreciated my nakedness as Mum was too. I didn't really understand why but now I was naked there it seemed even more obvious that I should do as I was told. In fact often Mum began to say things like 'as we aren't in a social situation it isn't necessary for me to keep my legs together' and other comments that had me submitting more openly. She began to position me over his knee with my thighs spread so that I was unable to hide anything of my body, or my arousal, from him at all which caused me all sorts of problems. Of course there had been an intimacy in the situation before, but now I was naked and open when being spanked it felt very intimate.

During all this time my life carried on as normal in every other respect, both at my work and

at home, life appeared as you would expect from a normal family. No hint of our secret ever emerged nor of my embarrassing need to masturbate at an alarming frequency. On the web I found that other people were spanked and lived happily with it, some actually wanting it, so I realised that I was not as deviant as I had thought and, though perhaps not many, there were other people like me and Mum. I wasn't naive enough to believe I could mention it openly though. However the web did also tend to feed my masturbatory tendencies.

At the end of the year I read Art History at a prestigious university three hours drive from home. I lived in a halls of residence and had my own room. I lost my virginity at a Freshers party to a boy no more confident or experienced than the ones who I had known at school. Thankfully he left soon after the act and I only saw him after from a distance. We nodded at each other but never spoke. Another boy took an interest a few weeks later and with the same result. At least the students on my particular course consisted of 19 girls and one gay boy so I was I was never going to have embarrassments of that nature too close to home so to speak.

In the Christmas vacation I returned home and found that Brian had decided that when I was home I had to carry on with our previous agreement. Consequently I was expected to have a spanking each week whilst at home. These kept me obviously quiet and well behaved and secretively very horny and embarrassed. Brian was quite firm in his ordering of my time too which was radically different to having no one to control me at uni. Mum would grin at me from time to time as she guessed my frustration, then humiliation of humiliation, she left a Christmas package secretly in my room that turned out to be a vibrator. Thankfully no one ever mentioned this present, though it turned out to be very useful for quick desperate orgasms.

At uni again I found to my shame that I was missing the spankings and having my routine dictated to and I continued to masturbate at every opportunity with both the vibe and without. Each vacation I would return to Mum and Brian and slip into the old safe arrangement again.

Life carried on like that. Feeling the need for sex but finding it always left me both emotionally and physically frustrated meant I had, usually drunken, sex with someone about once a year but never any boyfriends as such. Also a couple of times a year there were something that seemed to resemble teenage sleepovers but with the girls on my course with considerable nudity and touchings included which no one mentioned afterwards. There was a girl who kissed me and felt my breasts and then kept me at arms length around the campus until the next girls party, where she would kiss and grope me again and I orgasmed. This happened for the rest of the time we were studying and by the end I realised that I was better served by her than the few boys I had had sex with. At the end of the course I found myself with a first class degree and onto a Masters and then a tutor found me a job as a trainee in one of the large London galleries.

The work meant long hours and I managed to rent a small flat nearby so I needn't travel each day. I kept in touch, so to speak, with Mum and Brian as they expected me home each first Sunday in the month for dinner. Obviously food was not the only thing on the menu and though I tried not to admit it to myself I looked forward to these days.

Each week, as a trainee I met with a woman on the staff, Doctor Phillips, she came down into the bowels of the building to see me and talked through what I was doing and how it was going as well as getting me to talk about myself and what I'd done and wanted to do. I liked her, she looked a little like a younger, up market, version of Mum but was far more decisive and strong. These meetings were the only real consistent contact I had with others as I was researching most of the time and I looked forward to them last thing on a Wednesday afternoon. I had other things to do that brought me into contact with her but not regularly as these meetings were.

After about six months these meetings had become much less formal and I was allowed to call her by her first name, Diane and she called me Emily. The discussion also became more wide ranging and often carrying on later than was essential. She was a good listener and good at initiating me talking without me really being aware. I noticed how much she remembered from what I had said in previous meetings about myself, and was aware and intuitive. She remembered everything, even small throw away comments I had made and I began to admit things that no one else had ever known. Things like what I was like at school, what I thought of the boys. She asked me if I had lost my virginity at school and I blushingly told her the boys were a bit frightened of me and none were really what I wanted.

At the next meeting, "So you lost your virginity at uni?"

"Yes." I blushed and felt silly. "But the boys there were just, well, boys. No better than at school really."

"So you really needed a 'man'?"

"Well, someone who was mature perhaps, someone... someone firmer, stronger than me." She waited. "I needed someone who... who could tell me... tell me what I should do. Someone... someone in control." I was blushing madly and looking anywhere, only coming back to her face occasionally.

"Or a woman?" Her head was angled as she looked at me. She was smiling.

"Yes, yes, or a woman, someone in control, taking control."

"You've had sex with a woman?"

"No, no. Not a woman." I blushed even redder. "A girl maybe, only trivially, touchings. Nothing meaningful." I found myself trying to regulate my breathing. I felt really hot. My lips really dry.

"It's time to go." She smiled and I continued blushing for no reason. "Have a good evening. I'll look forward to next week."

"Yes, yes. So will I." I walked out of her office, nearly falling over my own feet.

At the following meeting, after a long conversation about the research, she suddenly said, "I've been thinking of what you said last week." I looked up at her. "Have you ever had anyone take control?"

"Well, teachers and stuff." She sat and smiled, waiting for me to carry on, to fill the space like I did. "Well there is Brian."

"Whose Brian?"

"He's Mum's husband. Not my dad. But he lived with us. He took control." I stopped but the silence grew. "Told Mum and me, and my sister Eleanor whilst she was there. Told us what to do. What not to do."

"And did you accept that?"

"Oh yes. Yes. It's easier isn't it? Well for me anyhow."

We talked about school and uni again for a while, about the rules at school and the lack of them at uni. How I used to find uni unnerving because of that and how I found myself inventing rules for myself.

"And what happened when you did things you shouldn't? With Brian for instance." I looked at her feet in her expensive shoes. I looked at the floor tiles and the carpet. I didn't know what to say. I felt trapped and the silence grew.

"We were disciplined."

"Your sister and you?"

"Yes. Then my mother and me."

"Disciplined." Her soft voice stroked me. I was frightened she'd be incredulous but she didn't seem to be. Simply accepting, soothingly.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"We... had to... we asked him... to spank us."

"You had to ask him?"

"Yes. It was expected."

"So you were complicit in being spanked."

"Yes."

"What had you done, to be spanked?"

"Nothing really." I was hot, my throat dry. "It didn't matter." I was feeling quite faint, my breathing more rapid. "Anyhow, soon it was every weekend regardless."

"You wanted him to spank you?"

"No... Well... I guess I did... Yes." I heard myself say that last single word and knew it was true. I'd never spoken of these things before. I sat in a trance. I felt her eyes on me.

I knew she would ask more. I didn't know what she would say nor what I would reply, what I would admit. That night I drank a full bottle of red wine, masturbating at the same time.

The following week I had a phone call from her secretary informing me that Doctor Phillips would be unable to meet me as she had a meeting in Italy. I felt abandoned. I felt as though she didn't want our meetings because of what I had told her. I threw myself into work and cried a lot, annoyed at my own naivety. After another week I had hardened myself. I received another telephone call from Doctor Phillips's secretary.

"Can't she make it this week either?" I snapped.

After a long pause she continued, "Actually she can, but she is tied up until the end of the day and asked me to ask whether you would mind staying late tonight and meet her in her office."

Thankfully she could not see my red face on the phone. I twice stammered an apology and told her I would see her in her office. It was only later that I realised I didn't know where her office was and had to look it up on the lists.

"You must be Emily." Not a question. It was Diane's secretary, a Mediterranean looking woman, in a very smart suit. I nodded and apologised again and blushed for her. She closed her handbag on the desk and as she slid her arms into her jacket she told me to go in to see Diane. As I heard her heels clicking on the wooden floor behind me I knocked and pushed the door tentatively, she was sitting at her desk on the phone. She ushered me in silently and carried on a conversation about picture frames. The office was larger than I expected with a window catching the early evening sun. When there was a pause I noticed how quiet it was with every one on their way home. My eyes roamed the office, at the paintings and a Turkish carpet on the wall, at the large satchels in a line by the door, at the large art books overflowing the bookcase. When I turned back she was looking directly at me, her chin resting on her hand, her telephone conversation obviously ended. I blushed again.