Sunday, October 24, 2010

Chapter 13: Summertime Blues

When Miss Samantha heard about my recent misdeed and general misbehavior, her look froze my heart.

“I don’t know what you do Miss Summers, but he seems to listen to you. He doesn’t seem to do the same for me.”

Miss Samantha turned to me and said, “Go up to your room and change. You know what I want you to wear.”

“The kilt?”


I knew what she meant, but I was surprised she was going to do this with my mother still here. I put on my frilly panties, my sissy dress, some ruffled ankle socks and my Mary Jane shoes. When I was finished, I saw her in the doorway. She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the stairs. I thought she would wait until my mother was gone, and I was surprised she was pulling me downstairs. I struggled with everything I had. I didn’t want my mother to see me this way.

My mother heard the commotion and looked at us.

“Chris? Miss Summers, what’s going on? Why is my son in that dress?”

“Come with me, I want to show you something.”

She opened up her laptop.

“Oh no…she wouldn’t!” I said to myself as a fear shot through my heart.

“One of the first nights Chris was here, I caught him doing this.”

My mother watched the video. She saw me playing with the panties, feeling them against my face, and impulsively putting them on.

“Are those panties? Chris, I can’t believe this is true. Did you put on the panties in that drawer?”

She looked at me trying to understand. Her eyes were filled with hurt and confusion. I didn’t know what to do, and I just started crying.

“Mrs. Manning, you wanted to know why he is so good with me? Everything you need to know is in this video. Your son needs guidance. He craves feminine authority, but you are not giving it to him. Deep down he wants to be good, but you are not making him do that. Did you punish him for breaking your porcelain?”

“I…I was in shock. My foot…was bleeding.”

“Did you punish him?”


“Don’t you think you should punish him?”


“Why don’t you punish him right now.”


“Bend him over your knee, take down his panties, and give him a spanking.”

“A spanking. We…we don’t believe in that.”

“Yet you’re willing to drive your son hours out to see me because you can’t control him. You’re asking me why he’s so good around me, and not around you, yet you’re going to disregard me advice and stick to your “beliefs”. I’m telling you the solution - put your beliefs aside and give him a good spanking right here, right now.”

She looked a little tentative, but she was at her wit’s end with me. She called me over.

“Chris, come here,” she pointed to the floor.


“You heard your mother, now get over there,” Miss Samantha reinforced her authority.

I slowly walked over.

“Bend over my knee.”

I slowly complied with her request as if I couldn’t believe it.

“Now pull down his panties and give him a good spanking, and tell him why he’s being spanked.”

At first my mom seemed hesitant to spank me, but as her words started heating up, the spanking became more intense. A flood of emotions poured out of her at that moment.

“Chris-you’ve-been-a-bad boy. Don’t you know how much that hurt Mommy’s foot? And some of that porcelain was my Grandmother’s! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO BAD ALL THE TIME!!!”

The spanking started to really hurt, and I was bawling until Miss Samantha intervened.

“Now, you’re hurting the boy. Remember, you’re the adult, and you need to control your emotions. If you can’t control yourself, how can you expect the boy to? Do you see how you’ve bottled up all these feelings instead of dealing with them on a daily basis? You’ve let a lot of little things become a big thing.”

“Yes,” my mother started sobbing.

“Now the important thing about punishment is that it should be just, you should not get emotional, and you should use it to modify his behavior.”

“But what about the dresses and panties?”

“It’s called petticoat punishment. It dates back to Victorian times. Why don’t we take a little walk, and I’ll explain it to you. Chris, pull up your panties. We’re going for a walk. And bring your purse too.”

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