Chapter 1

Spankings in my life didn't used to be as hard on me as they seem to be now. My name is Caroline, I'm 16, in high school, and overall have a pretty great life. I'm an only child but my parents are loving and have provided just about anything a teenage cheerleader could ever ask for. Unfortunately for me, they also provide plenty of discipline.

I can remember when I was small, well, up until I was 11. Spankings seemed to be a fairly simple affair. After all, in our neighborhood, spankings of naughty children is almost universal. Virtually all of my friends have been spanked. When I was younger, we used to talk about it like a badge of honor. Back then if I was naughty or broke the rules, I'd find myself instantly upended, my skirt up or my shorts down and my panties at my knees. Mom or Dad would pepper my little bum all over until it was blowtorch hot and then it would be over. Well, mostly. I'd still get corner time with my red bottom showing. That still happens even now and has since as long as I can remember.

I must say that I hate corner time. For more minor offences, I'm in the corner after a spanking for a minute for each year of my age, 16 minutes at the moment. My bottom in this situation is, of course burning hot and, I'm not allowed to either touch it or cover it up. It's embarrassing to be standing in the corner at my age but once my sobbing is under control, it's mostly boring. I have to wait until my time is up then the punishment is over and I can go back to whatever I was in the middle of doing. It's a hundred times worse if there is someone other than my parents in the room which happens from time to time but even that's not the worst part of my spankings now.

To talk about how I'm punished, I've really got to go back to when I was 11. That's when everything changed.

We have a swimming pool you see. As I said, my parents have done their best for me and having our own pool was a luxury. I guess with both parents working and only one kid, they could afford those kinds of luxuries and I used to love having friends over for pool parties.

No friends were over that day. It was just my Dad and me. He was sitting reading the paper and I was splashing around the pool on a hot summer day. Eleven was a tough year for me I guess. Puberty had started with a vengeance. I had my own little boobies. They weren't much to look at and weren't the biggest of my classmates but many of my friends were still complete flat so I was pretty proud of my pink tipped cones. Mom had me in an A cup training bra that made me feel like a grown up woman. My periods hadn't started yet but I was starting to see the first dash of hair on my otherwise bare pussy and this also made me feel like a grown up.

That being said, I'd been sticking my nose further and further up in the air and no doubt irritating the heck out of my parents when what would be a major change in my life suddenly occurred.

"Dad, I need to go to the mall to go shopping," I announced from the side of the pool.

"I'll see about going later today Caroline," he said as he tried to absorb the sports page.

"No, you need to drive me before lunch," I replied imperiously as though he was my driver, standing by to whisk me wherever I desired.

"I *said* later today Caroline," he said.

I should have taken the hint from his tone of voice but it was hear that I made my fatal error.

"Dad, don't be so lazy, what are you doing anyway? Reading the paper? You could drive me if you'd just put your paper away!"

There was a long silence. I knew immediately that I'd stepped over the line. Even then, I could have recovered. An instant but sincere apology would have set it all right. But no, I was too 'mature' to apologize.

"Pardon my young lady?" He was giving me one last chance to save my dignity.

I swiveled from the side of the pool and pushed off but my mouth was running just a inch ahead of my brain. As I turned I said under my breath but plenty loud enough for my father to hear me, "Old Fart".

My life changed at that moment.

My back was turned but I could hear my father leap out of his chair.

"Caroline Mary! Get your butt out of that pool right this instant.

I turned and could see he was red-faced. I was now in trouble and there was nothing I could do to stop what was sure to happen.

I swam to the shallow end and walked up the pool steps. My father was standing there waiting. As soon as I as in reach, he had a firm grasp of my left ear and I was helplessly propelled into the house.

"I'm sorry," I cried as, slightly bent over, I was painfully pulled into the living room.

"Too little, too late, young lady," said my Dad and I knew that I was in for a spanking.

As we got to the living room, I realized with a stunned shock that I was wearing only my one piece bathing suit and, as I'd mentioned, spankings in my house were always on a bare bottom.

Dad never let go of my ear as he reached down and pulled the strap of my bathing suit down off my shoulders.

"No!" I screamed, suddenly mortified that my newfound breasts were about to become uncovered in front of my father for the first time.

I reached up to stop him but that got me a sharp smack on the back of my hands. "Hands DOWN!" he said firmly and my hands lowered helplessly.

The left strap was pulled down off my shoulders too and now my father let go of my ear to grab the bathing suit with both hands and yanked it firmly down to my waist and the pulled it inside out, over my hips and off.

Suddenly I was trying to cover everything at once, one hand over my pink nippled boobies, the other trying to hide my light dusting of blond hair. I burst into tears at this new humiliation.

My father didn't wait, once the bathing suit was down at my ankles, I was being pulled over his knee as he sat down on a handy chair and then was properly in place for a spanking, nude for the first time in as long as I could remember.

I was already sobbing when the spanking started and, as usual, the super-fast spanks turned my otherwise white bottom into a fire-engine red panel of heat. I can't tell you how long it lasted. It might have been two minutes or twenty but it seemed like it went on for a week without stopping.

I was hiccupping, I was crying so hard. The spanks didn't let me catch my breath at all.

It took a minute or so for me to realize that my father's hand was no longer descending with smacks on my buttocks. Again, I was pulled to my feet, still sobbing freely. With one hand firmly on my arm, I was pulled, as usual, to the nearest living room corner and placed with my nose right in the corner.

"Sixteen minutes, Caroline", he said, as he always does.

It took at least half that time to get my sobbing under control. As the heat in my bum tuned down to a bright throb, I again remembered that I was completely nude, standing in front of my father who had gone outside to the pool deck, retrieved his paper and was now reading it behind me on his easy chair.

I realized that I still had to turn and face him as I always did after a spanking. It was horrible enough that he could see not only my newly spanked bottom but also that I was completely nude but at least, facing the corner, I was hiding my freshly developed body. From behind he could see my pale blond-haired body. I never tanned that quickly and it was early in the summer. My blond pony tail would have been hanging down my bare back and the most significant part of the view would have been my beet red bottom right in the middle of an otherwise smooth white surface. Once I turned, he was going to see *everything* again!

The last half of those sixteen minutes seemed to last forever as my mind raced hoping and dreading the corner time to be over.

"That's sixteen minutes Caroline. Come here," said my Dad firmly.

I sobbed again as I turned slowly. Again, my hands were covering myself both high and low as, with my tiny hands and arms trying to cover everything. I was hunched over as I stumbled towards him.

He had put the paper down to give me his full attention. I could see him looking at me curiously for a moment before a look of recognition came over his face. I was looking right at him and could see that he was suddenly readjusting to how mortified I was standing in front of him. His eyes narrowed as he factored this into my punishment.

"Alright Caroline," he said slowly in a few quiet but very firm voice. Put those hands on top of your head."

Fresh tears streamed down my face as my hands inched away from their job of protection to go up to my head. I had never been in this position before and I could never in my life remember being that embarrassed.

My father waited patiently until I had my hands on my head then adjusted my position.

"Elbows back, Caroline," he said. I moved them apart, feeling my conical breasts pushed up and out by the position.

"Look at me," he told me.

I had been looking at the floor with my face now blushing as hotly as my bottom.

"Why were you punished?" he asked.

This was standard. After a spanking, I always had to say what lesson I'd learned. I told him I'd been sassy and apologized profusely. He kept like that for a full minute or maybe two after I'd said my piece looking me up and down. It wasn't sexual. Well, I don't think it was. He was more inspecting me like you would something in a shop. The scrutiny was agonizing as he looked at my face, down to my new breasts with completely erect nipples. The air-conditioning on the wet breasts had ensured that. His gaze went lower, to my belly, then my bare pubis with its few strands of blond hair that really concealed nothing. I saw his eyes move back up until they were fixed on my blushing red face and then my own eyes again.

"I can see you find this very embarrassing, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Tears were still trickling down my cheeks and onto my chest. I didn't dare lower my hands to catch them. I didn't trust myself to answer so I just nodded my head miserably.

"Good." He said, nodding himself. "We'll make sure this is a regular part of your punishments then from now on." I burst into a fresh set of tears. If only I could turn back time and take back my stupid comment in the pool! "If you don't want to end up embarrassed like this again, you'll have to make sure you don't get into trouble."

Spankings would never be the same.

Chapter 2

Once I'd had my first nude spanking, I held out a faint hope that things would go back to normal. Alas, this was way too much to hope for. In our household, I'd expect to get about a spanking a week. I thought of these as my "regular" spankings. They could be for all manners of offense but mostly were doled out for rudeness, something that I seemed to take a long time to learn.

Regular spankings occurred instantly upon whatever the offense was, at least when I was at home. If we were away from the house, I might be told to 'wait until we get home!' which was a sentence to be avoided.

After that fateful day when wearing my once piece bathing suit meant that baring my bottom required baring my everything, I was a good as I could be desperately trying to avoid another spanking. The pain of that naked punishment went away in an hour or two as it always does but the profound embarrassment that I experienced from having to strip my pubescent body bare in front of my Dad stayed with me for days.

That very night, I lay in my bed wearing my long t-shirt, unable to sleep. I tossed and turned, remembering my father's voice saying, "Caroline, put your hands on your head." Each time I remembered it, I shivered. I remembered over and over, what it felt like to stand, naked in the corner knowing that he was watching me.

Finally, long after midnight, still unable to sleep, I got out of bed. I stood in the middle of my room for a moment, not sure what to do. I listened as carefully as I could for any sound of my parents. No, they had clearly gone to bed a while ago. The house was silent.

As quietly as I could, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor. I was now left wearing only my white cotton panties. Before I could debate it much more with anyone, I pulled them down too. I was naked, once again.

Quiet as a mouse, I tip-toed to the corner of my bedroom. My heart was beating so loud, I was sure it could be heard throughout the house. I knew this corner well. Many was the time that I'd been spanked and then put in this very corner of the house. Even with the lights out, the street light creeping through the curtains was enough to make out the layout of my room.

I leaned forward and pressed my nose right into the corner. I was bare again, showing my naked back and bottom to my room. I imagined my dad looking at me again, sitting in an easy chair and letting his eyes roam up and down my back.

I'd only been in the corner a minute or so when I turned around and faced the room. I put my hands on top of my head and clasped them firmly together. 'Elbows back, Caroline', I imagined him saying and I pulled my elbows way back to more fully display my budding breasts and their very erect nipples. I moved my feet first a tiny bit apart then much more, imagining that I'd be told to spread myself on display to my father.

It was exhilarating. I could feel my breath coming in short gasps. I don't know what the connection was but imagining I was being observed made me blush as deeply as I had earlier that day. I could feel the flush of heat move down my face and onto my bare chest.

Suddenly I held my breath... What that a sound in the house?

I leapt forward and scooped up my t-shirt and panties. I threw my panties into my bed and yanked my t-shirt over my head. A second later, I was under the covers, listening with both ears, still holding my breath.

It was a false alarm. I was the only family member awake and I let my breath out in a slow sigh.

I was experiencing thoughts and feelings I couldn't explain. What on earth was I doing? I felt an itch, a tingling between my legs where I didn't know what to do. I fell asleep that night with my hands jammed together up between my legs, holding my recently exposed pussy as though to keep it from exploding off of me. My panties stayed off all night.

The next day at breakfast the spanking was still on my mind but nothing was said about it at the table. It was as though it was no different a day than any other day after a spanking. Had my father even explained this dramatic moment to my Mom? It seemed not.

While my parents seemed to be back to normal, it took several more days for me to get there. I was the most helpful, polite, easy to manage soon-to-be-12-year-old that my parents could imagine. There's no doubt they noticed the all new me.

Unfortunately, I may have been trying to be good but at the age of 11, it was impossible to stay that way forever.

It was almost two weeks before I got my next 'regular' spanking. This time it was my Mom who would do the honors. She was getting supper ready and had already asked me twice to help by peeling carrots and setting the table. 'In a minute,' I'd replied each time. I was watching TV. The 3rd request was more of an instruction and, again my getting in trouble was completely avoidable.

"Caroline!" my Mom exclaimed. "In the kitchen right now!"

"Oh give me a break!" I said to myself but to my horror, the words escaped my mouth as my mother was walking into the living room. She hear them as clear as day.

"Right," she said, her face becoming firm. "Well, you're getting too big for your britches. You like being here in the living room? Well, you can stay here, right in the corner!" Mom's finger was pointing to the all-too familiar corner which meant I was in for a spanking.

Choking back a sob, I got up from the sofa and walked towards the corner.

"Aren't you forgetting something, young lady?" she asked.

My heart went into my throat as I slowly turned and looked questioningly at my Mom.

Your father has explained how your new spanking routine is much more effective and I think you know that's how you'll be spanked from now on. Get those clothes off."

"Oh God! Oh no, Mom! Please!" I pleaded.

"Off, young lady, right now!"

The tears started trickling down my cheeks as I reached down to pull my t-shirt up and over my head. I kicked my flip-flops off and my shorts were next, leaving me in my cotton bikini panties and my white training bra. I hesitated, dreading what would come next.

The voice was low, firm, commanding... "Everything, Caroline,"

I couldn't hold back a sob as I reached up and pulled off my training bra. It was strange. It was just my Mom, not my Dad and still, exposing my bare breasts and their tight nipples to the room. I reached down and dragged down my panties. The second they were down, I was turning around and rushing to the corner, happier to show my bare bottom and have my front hidden by the corner than to let my Mom see my whole bare front.

"You can just stay there until I'm ready to deal with you," my Mom announced as she headed back into the kitchen.

I could hear her setting the table, doing the work I was supposed to do and it was maybe 10 minutes later that I heard her coming back into the living room.

Her hand was on my arm and I was pulled as usual from the corner and over to her on the chair. She pulled my right over her lap where the spanking started instantly.

As with both my parents, the spanks started out hard and lightning fast, raining down on my unprotected bottom.

For a couple of minutes, I didn't think of my nakedness at all, just the burning, searing heat building in my bottom and my intense desire to have it stop for a second, even a nano-second so I could catch my breath.

That never happened when my parents spanked. Spankings seemed to go on forever. In fact they were probably very short but they were very intense each time. Only when I was unable to catch my breath from the sobbing or when breathing had been reduced to hiccups would the spanking wind down.

I was pulled to my feet and then pulled back to the corner to wind down. "Sixteen minutes Caroline" Just like the first time, it took a few minutes to calm down enough that my complete nakedness once again became the focus of my attention. This time the effect was compounded by my thoughts racing and racing ahead of myself. I wondered if I would once again feel the unbearable itch between my legs and, no sooner had I had that thought than I could feel something starting there. That made me blush even more, if that was possible.

My sobs had dwindled down to a sniffle before I heard my Mom returning from the kitchen.

I could feel her look on my bare back as she took a seat.

"Alright Caroline," said my Mom.

I turned to face her. I was dying to put my hands up to cover myself as I'd tried in front of my father but somehow I willed them to stick by my sides, imagining them to be glued there. My Mom was sitting in the easy chair, waiting for me to present myself.

I walked over to her slowly and then, without being asked did one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. I closed my eyes and raised my hands up, up until they were firmly clasped on my head with my elbows well back then opened my eyes.

My mother was looking right at me, one eyebrow slightly up, interestedly seeing how compliant this new type of spanking had made me. Just like my father had, her gaze deliberately left mine and traveled down my naked body. It wasn't sexual, well not directly anyway, but it made me feel so incredibly vulnerable as though she could see right through me. My embarrassment was profound. I knew I was blushing a deep red and, while my sobbing had stopped, the shear humiliation of the moment continued to cause tears to stream down my cheeks.

"Well?" she asked. "Why were you punished?"

I apologized enthusiastically and promised she'd never have trouble from me again. Once I'd wound down, my Mom told me to get dressed and the punishment was over.

I pulled my clothes back on and, still blushing, headed into dinner.

Dad was home a half-hour later and, at the dinner table, Mom was happy to share with him how my punishment had gone. The effect of my nakedness was talked about as though they were talking about the weather. I kept my eyes on my plate and choked back my tears as the conversation went on. It was clear that both my parents were delighted about this new aspect of my discipline routine and now entrenched it as a standard exercise.

I suddenly had a terrifying thought. On rare occasions I had been spanked in front of my aunt and uncle. When this happened it was already a mortifying experience. Three or four times I had been turned over a parent's knee when either my aunt or uncle or both had been there. True I had been younger at the time but what if they were visiting now and saw me completely naked? I couldn't help myself. I had to know what would happen.

"Um, with this new spanking, um, plan. What might happen if Uncle Joe or Aunt Sue were here? I mean, um, you wouldn't let them see me... you know, completely naked? Would you?" My voice was very polite.

My father looked up in surprise as though the idea hadn't occurred to him. He opened his mouth up to say something but my Mom jumped the gun. "You'd just better be sure you're well behaved if they're around, young lady," she said looking at me firmly. "If you're naughty when your aunt and uncle are here, they're going to get a good long look at every part of you!"

I gasped. My eyes were wide and my jaw fell open. Even my father looked a little surprised by which I guess he'd had a more lenient plan but sentence had now been passed and I would live in fear of that day for months to come.

There was no doubt. My life had changed forever.

Chapter 3

From the age of 11 my 'regular spankings' were all done in the nude. The exercise was stunningly embarrassing for me and, as I developed even further as an adolescent, my breasts grew, my nipples got darker and much larger, my bottom became rounder, my light blond pubic hair stayed a light non-helpful dusting that never really covered anything and the level of humiliation at having to strip in front of my parents increased on the logarithmic scale.

On rare occasions however, I had experienced a different kind of spanking. This kind of punishment was more formal and, fortunately, only happened once or twice a year. A 'proper' punishment was terrifying and much, much worse. These kinds of punishments were reserved for times when I had been really bad. The last 'proper' punishment I'd received had been when I had just turned 11 and had sneaked into the nearby woods with two of my friends. We weren't allowed to go into the woods on our own.

The second I got home, I knew I was in for it.

"I just got a call from Maureen's Mom. You were in the woods, weren't you?" said my Mom.

I nodded miserably. To my horror I wasn't immediately pulled over my Mom's knee.

"Get to the living room corner and you can wait there for your father," my Mom instructed. "He'll give you a proper strapping when he gets home. Maybe that will improve your memory of where you should and shouldn't go when you play."

I started crying right away when sentenced was pronounced. As I headed to the corner I knew that I was in for a horrible night.

When my father gave me a strapping, I would be bent over a piece of furniture, usually the arm of the sofa. My pants would be down of course and my bottom bare but it was my father's leather strap that made the experience worth being afraid of. Unlike my regular spankings, a proper punishment took time and the strap was an implement that was used in a way that each smack was given a moment to sink in. The net effect was a deep burning heat that would leave me drenched in tears.

If it was my mother giving the proper punishment, she favored a long handled bath brush. It was also a fearsome instrument and she could place her smacks within millimeters of where she intended.

It came as no surprise that once my regular spankings became all nude spankings that there would be some change to my 'proper' punishments. I thought of it numerous times after I was 11 and when I'd get in a little trouble. My parents threatened several times that year to give me a proper punishment and the threat alone was enough to have me change my behavior instantly. For years I had found myself bent over for a proper punishment at least once a year if not twice but the year I was 12 I managed to get through an entire year without a proper spanking. I continued to have numerous regular punishments and while I never got comfortable with having to strip naked, it was something that I grew to expect.

Shortly after I turned 13, disaster struck and I found myself facing my first proper punishment in 14 months. I had been playing with friends and, despite my best opportunity to resist, I found myself trying a cigarette for the first time. My parents were nowhere to be found. After all, I wasn't close to home but my friend Angela's mom came across us in the back yard. I was terrified. I begged her not to call my Mom but the call went out before I even got home.

My Mom was waiting at the front door when I arrived a few minutes later, tears already welling up in my eyes. I looked up at her, hopeful that I'd be in for a regular punishment but one peek at her face and I realized that I was in deep, deep trouble.

"I'm too angry to even talk to you about this," my mother said with a grim face. "Get in the house."

My head hung down in despair. I was going to get it.

My Mom took me by the arm and dragged me into the living room. "Clothes off," she said in disgust.

As usual, I removed all my clothes quickly and headed for the corner.

"I didn't tell you to get in the corner Caroline," my Mom said slowly. "I can see you're having a great deal of trouble listening to your parents. We'll see what a proper spanking does for your hearing. Now get back over here."

I turned around and came back to my Mom. I figured I'd be bent over the arm of the sofa but my Mom had other ideas. I had grown some in the last 14 months and we had a low-backed easy chair in the living room. My Mom had me turn the chair around so it was facing away from the room. Grasping me firmly by the arm and dragged me to the back of the chair.

"Bend over it," she said.

I whimpered a bit as I bent over the back of the sofa. My mother's hands pushed at my back until I was fully bent over. My feet were firmly touching the floor but my bottom was now placed way up high in the air. It was the perfect level for a strapping which I was sure was coming later.

My mother wasn't quite done. With her foot, she pushed at my ankles until they were wide apart, each foot touching the legs of the chair. I could feel the air conditioning in the room wafting across my suddenly very exposed pussy and realized for the first time that not only my bum but also my complete vulva were fully exposed from behind. I felt more vulnerable than at any time in my life.

My Mom scooped up my clothes and left me there, bent over, exposed to the room.

It would be close to an hour before my father got home and in that intervening I suffered an agony of anticipation. I dared not move an inch and every sound in the house sounded like a stranger walking in. I was mortified.

My father finally got home and I could hear my parents talking to each other about my transgression. I didn't have long to wait now.

I could here my father pause at the hall closet. There could be only one thing he'd be stopping for; his leather strap. I sobbed into the soft cushions of the chair back that my face and breasts were pressed into.

My Dad's strap was a weapon to be feared. It had started out life as a belt I suppose but no longer carried any kind of buckle. It was pure black, worn leather. It was 2 inches wide and although it was quite thick it was also very supple. He would double it up and usually used a full swing before the leather would connect with my bottom in a tremendously loud smack. The sound would arrive at my ears before the scorching sensation reached my brain. Once the strapping was underway though, the pain and intensity was pretty much non stop until it was over.

The tears started as I thought of that strap coming closer to my helpless bottom.

I could sense him standing right behind me and suddenly thought of the exposed view I was providing. It had been hideous enough over the past year and change to have to show my breasts and pussy hair as well as my often exposed bottom in front of him but being spread out and bent over like this was awful. I could feel his eyes looking right up between my legs. I knew he could see everything I had.

"Well Caroline?" his voice was right behind me. "Do you have anything to say for your incredibly stupid behavior?"

"No, Sir," I mumbled. There was really no excuse.

"Your mother and I have tried to explain how dangerous smoking is for you but you clearly haven't been willing to listen to that lesson. Now I'm going to try to have you learn it in a way that I hope you won't forget.

A sob burst from me. I knew what was about to happen.

My father's left hand came down on the small of my back to hold me still and suddenly the sound of the first smack reached my ears. I searing pain followed a moment later and I burst into tears. He waited a few seconds then the strap came down again full across my buttocks. Each couple of seconds the strap made a blistering line of fire across my bottom. The lines went first up from the crease of my buttocks to the top of my crack and then down again. I would have jumped up to try to escape except for my father's firm hand on the small of my back. It went on for several minutes by which time I was a sniveling mess. I was sobbing and crying without pause and snot was dripping helplessly from my nose. I was beet red and unable to think about anything but my prayers that the strapping would stop.

Finally it did. My legs had been kicking all over the place but my father used his foot to push my ankles back to the sides of the chair.

My father waited a moment or two until my sobbing was almost under control before getting my attention again. I was feeling much more naked again with my father walking around the chair still holding the strap in his hand. My bottom was on fire.

"Well Caroline, you've been punished for not following the rules," said my Dad. "You knew that not smoking was an absolute rule in this house, you broke that rule and you've been punished for it. But, I haven't punished you for actually smoking. I'm going to give you four more strokes with the strap for that now. I expect you to remain absolutely still for four more strokes.

I sobbed again. My bottom couldn't take any more.

My father was standing beside me now, facing towards my bottom with a view over the small of my back. To my absolute humiliation, I felt his cool hand touch my burning buttocks then pass all over them, feeling the heat.

"Oh my God," I whispered to myself. The sheer embarrassment of having my father touch my buttocks was mortifying.

"Alright Caroline," he said softly. "Are you ready for your four strokes?"

I paused for a moment before answering. I took a depe breath then said softly "Yes, Sir."

I was in for the surprise of my life.

As soon as I said I was ready, my Dad's hand stopped on my right buttock. He was still standing at my side, facing towards my bottom and his left hand was firmly cupping my right buttock with his fingers pointing down towards the floor. This left his thumb resting along the side of the crack of my bum. As humiliating as it was to have my Dad's hand on my freshly strapped, absolutely naked buttock, what he did next took my breath away.

With a firm motion, my father pulled my right buttock to the side, pulling my bottom crack wide, wide open.

"No!" I cried but before I could move an inch, the strap was in motion and with a heat hotter than the sun itself, it landed along my inside of my still white crease.

My hands leapt back to try to reach the exposed flesh.

"Hands DOWN Caroline!" my Dad said firmly. With a bout of fresh tears, I lowered my hands again.

No sooner had I done so but the strap was in motion again, delivering another line of fire on top of the first.

My cries were inconsolable but there were still two strokes to come. My father was already in motion, moving to my other side and holding my left buttock now firmly in one hand. I could feel him pulling it and again, I was left spread wide open.

He held me like that for a moment and I found all my attention focused on a 1 inch square of flesh, my pink and now exposed anus.

I was held like that for a long moment then the strap was in motion again. This time the other side of my white crease received the strap and again I was in agony. A pause then the strap was in motion again. This time, the strap didn't cover the exact spot but was shifted an inch closer to the center.

To my shock it landed along the middle left and middle of my crease including right over my pulsing anus which turned to flames.

My hands clawed back of their own accord, pulling at my buttocks, stretching them wide in a vain attempt to let the burning heat of my anus get at the air in the room.

My father moved behind me once again, watching me pull myself wider and wider apart, not caring that I was exposing my most intimate parts to the room.

"Well, she's not going to forget that in a hurry." It was my Mom. They were both there, behind me and I was showing everything to them as I continued to pull my buttocks wide open despite my desire to protect myself.

It was several minutes before the humiliation of being exposed could overcome the pain along the crease of my buttocks. I let my bottom go and returned my hands to the cushion in front of me. After all, I had not been given permission to get up.

"No Caroline," said my father. "I think the position you were in suits you best, get those hands back there and hold your bottom wide open."

I reached back slowly and pulled my hot buttocks wide open again. This time I was reluctant to do so. Although I had just done so willingly while the pain in my anus was severe, now it was to expose myself further and I could feel more tears coming as I exposed my bum and my pussy from behind. There was nothing I wanted to do less than open myself like that but after the strapping I'd just had, I was prepared to obey virtually any instruction. When I had spread my buttocks as wide apart as I could, I waited. I could feel the eyes of my parents looking directly into that area that I would have done anything to protect.

I was left like this for a minute or two. They seemed like days to me.

Finally, my father spoke again. "This position seems to get your full attention. From now on, if you're to get a proper punishment, you'll be waiting just like this over the chair. You'll be nude. You'll have your feet spread and you'll be holding your little bottom wide open like this waiting for punishment. You'll do that Caroline, no matter who is in the room. Do you understand?"

I whimpered my reply. "Yes, Sir."

"Very well, you can stand up now," he said. I stood up slowly and turned to face him. My hands went to the top of my head without asking. I had experienced such a number of regular spankings in the nude now that I knew not to cover up no matter how much I wanted to.

My father reached over and took me by the arm. I thought I was heading to the corner but in fact his destination was only about half-way. They had placed a short footstool from my Dad's workshop in the middle of the room. It was about a foot high and no more than a foot square. I was told to get up on the footstool and put my hands on my head. I was still crying some. My parents sat down on the sofa where I was right in front of them when it finally occurred to me. The living room curtains were wide open!

While I'd been bent over being spanked I was pretty much invisible but now, now I was standing in front of the whole neighborhood. At least I was facing away from the picture window in our living room wall but anyone who looked directly into the house at this moment would see my naked back and buttocks.

My father looked my up and down. He and Mom were standing right in front of me. "Sixteen minutes Caroline," he said, looking at his watch.

Tears trickled down my fact again at this newest humiliation.

When the time on the stool was over, I was finally left to head upstairs and put my t-shirt for bed. I was never so happy to leave the living room as that moment.

It was the last time I ever tried smoking.

Chapter 4

From that fateful day when I was 11 that my spankings became naked spankings my parents knew that the power of humiliation was a much more significant element of my punishment that that of pain. I can still remember my father's eyes narrowing as he realized how embarrassed I was to be completely naked in front of him even though it was years ago, just before I turned 12.

There were two elements to my punishments that were the most dreaded of all. The first would come into effect almost as soon as my punishments involved stripping completely. The second would start over a year later as I turned 13.

Each and every time I was either stripped or told to strip for a spanking was mortifying. I guess most pubescent girls are over-aware of the changes in their bodies when growing up. Although I was still young, I already had small conical breasts with pink nipples. Unlike a lot of my friends, my nipples were quite large and, despite my silent pleas, seemed to become erect at the least provocation. They were light pink, close to the color of my pale skin unlike some I've seen which are more brown. Further down, my pussy hair never really came in very fully. I had a tiny dusting of hair which didn't cover my labia at all. Needless to say, having to expose either top or bottom was an awful experience.

It had only been a few short weeks since that fateful day when my father had dragged me from the pool, stripped down my bathing suit and given me my first completely naked spanking as an adolescent. Since then both of my parents had seen me naked several times. I used to get regular punishments about once per week and you would think that after a few weeks I would have gotten used to the new aspect of my punishment. I'm sorry to say that this never happened.

On this day, however, it was my father who introduced an element to my punishments that horribly continues to this day.

I had, as was common for me, been talking back; something neither parent appreciated. This time it had been to my Dad. You'd think I'd learn after the different punishments I'd had for the same thing and this time I think my father was looking to improve the impact of the spanking a little more. The spanking had started out as I had come to know by now.

"You're in for a spanking, young lady," my father announced.

Tears sprung to my eyes. An apology spilled out of my mouth as though pulled from deep inside me. My Dad was having none of it.

"Caroline if you really want to apologize, learn to not talk back over and over and over. It makes me think that spanking you isn't enough punishment at all."

This brought on a fresh sob.

"Now, get yourself into the living room and get those clothes off," he said. "I expect your completely bare body to be standing in the corner when I get in there to try to teach you this lesson again.

With my head hanging down, I turned from the kitchen and headed to my least favorite room in the house. With no one there to watch, I undressed at a snail's pace. Slowly pulling my t-shirt over my head and then prying off my running shoes, I was delaying the inevitable.

"I expect you to be ready in one more minute, Caroline," my father called from the kitchen. I knew that not being ready might mean a 'proper' punishment with his strap and I was not going to risk that. I peeled off my shorts and panties together then pulled my bra over my head in an instant and literally ran to the corner of the room.

The waiting for punishment was, in some ways the worst part. There I was, 12 now but still just barely an adolescent and the thing that was most important to me was keeping my newfound body private. Here, in the corner of the room, I was completely naked, exposing myself, even if it was just my back and bottom, to anyone who would walk into the living room. Each and every time I was in the corner, I lived in terror of the doorbell ringing or the door opening and some stranger walking in to see me naked in the corner.

This time, I had only a few short minutes to wait. I could hear my father's footsteps as he entered the living room and then sat in the easy chair that so often had been the location of my punishments.

He waited a full minute or two. I could feel his gaze, locked right on me. Looking at my long bare back, looking up from my bare feet along my tanned legs until the white space of my completely naked buttocks. I know the feeling of being looked at like that. Even though my entire viewpoint was the corner of the living room right in front of my eyes, I knew he was looking and I could feel the blush starting on my cheeks and then covering my entire face. The sheer embarrassment factor was extreme.

I was expecting him to call me over at any moment as I had become used to. Instead, he suddenly rose from his seat and left the room. I could hear him going up the stairs as though he'd forgotten something. For a moment I caught my breath, confused. Was he going to get his strap?! But no, the strap was in the hall closet. Where was he going?

A moment later, I could hear the sound of his footsteps heading down the stairs. He was back in the living room now and sitting once again in his seat.

"Alright Caroline," he said firmly. "Get over here for your punishment."

I turned and headed over to him. As I'd now been taught, I stood with my feet shoulder width apart and dragged my hands to the top of my head as though they were made of lead. It took everything I had to expose myself this way. I pulled my elbows back, which lifted my erect nipples higher as though they were beacons.

My father made me stand there for a full minute or maybe more. His eyes went slowly up from my feet to my head and then down and then all the way up again. He could see from my eyes how difficult it was to simply stand there bare naked as he looked at me.

Finally it was a relief when he pulled me over his knee to begin my spanking. As per usual, it was fast, furious and reduced me to tears in seconds. When I was crying so hard I couldn't catch my breath, the spanking stopped. My bottom was ablaze with heat. Unusually, he kept me over my knee for a moment or two until my sobbing started to come under control. My Dad pulled me to my feet. He and my Mom always pulled me then right back to the same corner I'd started in but this time, I was pulled in the opposite direction. My father pulled me to the middle of the blank wall at the other end of the room.

"Hands back on your head, Caroline," he told me.

After a spanking I'm always in a hurry to be obedient. This time there was no hesitation clasping my hands firmly on my head. He pulled me closer to the wall until I was facing it only a few inches away.

"Closer," he said.

I inched closer until just the tips of my nipples were touching the cold surface.

"Feel apart now," he said.

I spread my feet shoulder width apart.

"Wider," he instructed. I spread them wider apart.

"Now, stand absolutely still," he said.

Uncertainty breeds its own anxiety and my heart was pounding. I realized now that my father had left me over his knee a little longer deliberately so that I would be calm enough to experience this embarrassment when I stood up.

Here I was, spread-eagled and completely naked. I was facing away from him but I was still completely bare and the feeling of just my nipples touching the wall was weirdly troubling.

My father had been walking around behind me but had stopped moving.

The flash of a camera was so shocking that I turned in absolute surprise. My father was holding his digital camera and looking right at me.

"Did I tell you to turn around Caroline?" he asked.

I spun back to the wall. OhmyGod! He'd taken my picture. A picture of my bare spanked bottom! OhGod! I was naked in that picture. He'd taken a picture of me naked. A fresh burst of tears sprung from my eyes.

"Oh no Caroline," he said firmly. "If you want to turn around, I think that will be fine. Turn and face me please."

I looked over my shoulder in shock. Did he mean it?

He held out his hand and made a twirling motion with his finger. Yes, he expected me to turn around.

Slowly I did so. The camera in his hand was like a weapon. I was helpless to stop my hands from dropping from my head to cover myself.

"Caroline!" my father said.

I cried as my hands slowly lifted again to expose myself.

I couldn't quite believe it. I couldn't believe that a picture of my bare front was about to be taken.

My father got up close and snapped a picture of my face with the tears streaming down my cheeks. Then he stepped back and focused again.

A flash, and the picture of my completely bare body was immortalized.

"Alright, Caroline," he said. "Into the corner. Twelve minutes."

I ran back to my familiar corner across the room. I couldn't believe what had just happened. What was going to happen with those pictures?

Twelve minutes later, my punishment was over. It would be a couple of days before I would find out what the pictures would be used for. My parents presented me with a new picture album at the dinner table a couple of nights later. It was a very large album with places for many pictures. Only the first page was filled. It was filled with three pictures of me. The first was a full body picture of Caroline's back. She was standing with her hands on her head, her feet wide apart facing the wall. Her bottom was a beet red and the marks of her Dad's hands could still be made out. The next picture was the reverse side. To Caroline's horror, her full body was exposed. From this angle she could make out her hugely erect nipples and every part of her bare pussy lips, not at all covered by her sparse pussy hair.

The third picture was a close up of my face. I could clearly see the tears on my cheeks and my red blushing face.

The album was a good reminder of what was required for Caroline to be a good girl, her parents explained. It would be added to after each punishment.

I begged my parents to reconsider; pleaded for them to destroy the pictures. They weren't buying.

The album would be filled as time went on. The history of my body growing up and working its way through adolescence would be stored in a week-by-week cycle. The album would record my breasts getting bigger and rounder, my nipples getting fatter and, longer (despite my prayers), my bottom rounding out and me getting taller. One thing was constant, my blushing humiliation at being spanked and photographed in the nude.

It was one of the most horrible aspects of my teenage years punishments but it was soon to be made almost intolerable by no longer being private. A month or two later, I would suffer the unbearable experience of watching my aunt and uncle thumbing through the album, seeing my everything.

They would both be well acquainted with every visible nuance of my body when a year later my uncle would participate for the first time in my punishments in what would become the absolutely most humiliating element of my teenage punishment sessions.

Chapter 5

It took some time but eventually my parents found the absolute ultimate buttons to push to get me to behave. From the time I turned 11 and started to get all-naked spankings, I never really got used to the idea of having to strip down and be exposed for my punishments. I say punishments because the actual pain of the spankings, while highly unpleasant, weren't a sufficient deterrent to bad behaviour. It was only the combination of both a hot bottom *and* the embarrassment of having to be exposed and displayed that made me dread it so much that I strove with significant effort to be a good girl.

Being photographed over time was, in its way also hideous. By the time I was 14, my parents were starting to amass a complete record of my physical development through my adolescence as they had completely nude pictures of me both front and back which had been taken after just about all my punishments. The album (ultimately there would be several), was never far from reach. While no one else had ever seen me punished completely naked from the time I was 11, I had been absolutely mortified when I spotted him one day handing my album to my uncle who started leafing through it with a small smile on his face.

It took all I had to not burst into an angry tirade at my father, something I knew instinctively would cause me to be providing my uncle with a live display in short order. Instead I burst into tears and ran from the house until I could calm down. I realized that my father, who did virtually nothing by accident, was drawing a line in the sand for me. He couldn't have been plainer if he had sent me a letter. Cross the line and you'll find yourself displayed in front of your uncle or anyone else he chose. Once I'd come to my senses an hour or two later, I was on my very best behavior for days, something my father certainly noticed.

I was halfway through my 14th year when I would run into serious trouble and my father would escalate my punishments once again.

I was a fool, of course. It was one of those things that I could have completely avoided by simply doing what I already knew was right.

I had been at the local mall with my friends Barb and Sue. We were pretty much inseparable and by the age of 14, I was trusted to go to the mall on my own under certain conditions such as when the 3 of us would go together. We had been cruising around window shopping for awhile when Sue spotted something in an accessories store that she was dying for. It was a hair clip and was priced quite reasonably at $12. Unfortunately for Sue, she didn't have the money on her as Barb and I watched in fascinated horror, she slipped it into her bag as the 3 of us walked out of the store.

You can guess the rest. Sue was nabbed a few feet outside the door and minutes later, the 3 of us were in the community police station which was situated conveniently in the mall itself.

I was praying that an earthquake measuring 50 on the Richter scale would hit the mall and that I'd be swallowed up in the debris but, of course, that was not to happen.

We had to empty our pockets and purses to show if we'd stolen anything else which we hadn't but we were still all in trouble. The police called all our parents and my father came down to collect me. I knew Barb and Sue would get into trouble too. There'd probably be warm bottoms for each of them but no one knew how tough my punishments were.

The police officer told my father that only Sue had been caught with stolen goods on her person but he made it clear that the 3 of us were together the entire time and that we must have all known the contraband was in Sue's purse.

The drive home was deadly silent until we pulled into the driveway at home. Finally my father spoke in a low voice that showed how much it was taking him to control his anger.

"I want to know only one thing Caroline," he said. "Did you know that Sue put that stolen item in her purse before you walked out of the store?"

I nodded miserably. We walked into the house together through the side door which led right into the kitchen. To my horror, I could see that not only my Mom was there but also both my Aunt and Uncle sitting at the kitchen table.

My mother gave me one look and shook her head in disbelief. That made me feel worse than anything. My father grasped me firmly by the arm and propelled me into the living room.

"Well Caroline," he said grimly, "I can't say you don't deserve what you've got coming to you. You can get ready for a proper punishment right now. Clothes off, bent over the back of the easy chair and hold yourself wide open until I come back here to deal with you.

"Oh Please Daddy," I pleaded. "Please wait until Uncle Ken and Aunt Margaret go home."

My father laughed in a way that showed he wasn't amused.

"You made your bed, now you can sleep in it," he said. "They'll stay or not as they wish and if they happen to see how a little thief gets punished on the bare, you have only yourself to blame."

"But I didn't steal anything!" I cried.

"The second you walked out of that store in the company of your friend who you *knew* was stealing, you became an accomplice. It's just as bad as stealing yourself," he said sadly.

With a sob, I started to take off my clothes as he watched. Once again, I was to be punished in the nude and 'proper' punishments meant that I'd be even more exposed and embarrassed than usual. Once I'd gotten my bra off, I could see that my treacherous nipples were, as usual, hard. I pulled my panties down and turned to bend over the chair which my father had now turned to face away from the main room. Now anyone who walked into the living room would be seeing my completely bare from behind.

"Spread, Caroline," said my father and with another tiny sob, I reached back with both hands to pull my buttocks wide open. I was now completely and rudely exposed.

"Stay like that," he said patting my bare buttocks as he returned to the kitchen. I could hear my aunt, uncle and my parents discussing the latest turn of events although they were speaking lowly enough that I couldn't make out much of what they were saying. They talked for 20 minutes or so and during this entire time, I was in the living room, bent over the back of the easy chair with my bare bottom facing the room, my naked and erect nipples pressed into the cloth of the chair back and my hands obediently holding my 14 year old buttocks as wide apart as I could possibly pull. As I'd gotten older, it took a little wide stance each time I was punished over the chair to have my hips rest on the back. When I was 11, my tip toes barely touched the ground but now, at 14 with my long legs, my feet were now outside the chair legs. I had checked out this exact position in the full-length mirror in my room and I knew that I was presenting *everything* I had to whoever looked in on me. It feels even now that I didn't breath the entire time I was bent over waiting as I held my breath in terror of the sound of my uncle or even my aunt coming into the room.

Finally, I could hear the kitchen chairs scraping as one or more people got up. "Oh my God!" I whispered to myself. I could hear people moving around now. For a heart-stopping moment, I held out hope that my aunt and uncle were leaving to let my father finish out my punishment. It was a false hope of course.

I could hear footsteps walking into the living room and closed my eyes and waited.

The bright flash from behind me let me know that my exposed position was now recorded for posterity and my album. My 14 year old pussy and anus would be displayed for anyone who ever saw that album forever. Another flash from a slightly different angle and then a couple of more made me feel like I was being displayed naked in front of an audience of thousands. Being photographed while standing against the living room wall had been awful but this, this was a thousand times worse. A sob burst helplessly from my lips.

"Well Kev," you're right about how exposed she is.

I let out another tiny sob. Kev (Kevin) is my father. It was my uncle Joe speaking. Now my uncle could see absolutely everything.

You know Joe," said my Dad, "you'd think that the embarrassment of being displayed this way would be a disincentive for her to misbehave but I guess not enough. I'm ready to try your recommendations."

What was this? What recommendations had my uncle made to my Dad. Whatever it was, I was not at all looking forward to it. My aunt and uncle had two daughters. My cousins were a couple of years younger than myself but they had both told me that punishments from their Dad were fearsome and usually carried out in the woodshed behind the house so their crying didn't bother their Mom. This didn't sound enticing to me at all.

Footsteps now walked right behind me but whose were they? My fathers? Uncle Joe's?

I heard a popping sound that sounded like a jar or a plastic container opening. What could that be, I wondered.

A large strong hand placed itself over my left hand which was still holding my bum wide open. It pulled my left buttock even wide apart for a moment making me feel helplessly exposed.

The touch of something cold and slimy at the very center of my anus was such a shock I let out a little scream!

"Quiet, Caroline!" my uncle said. Oh God. It was my uncle touching my bottom hole! I'd never been touched like that by another human being. I thought I'd die of embarrassment.

The finger was still there, just the tip, making miniscule circles around the very center of my anus. They must have had some lubricant or something on them because I felt wet and squishy all around there. A moment or two later, the fingertip stopped circling and rested on the very center of my crinkled pink hole.

It waited a moment as I was clenched so tight that I couldn't help it. It waited for over a full minute until my contracted muscles couldn't hold on any more. As my anus spasmed, ready to contract itself again, my uncle's finger moved, firmly pushing past the momentary lack of resistance and embedding its thick tip inside of my body. He twisted it now, covering the entire ring of my now penetrated anus with the slimy, slippery lotion then slowly, firmly, pressed inward in one long slow, twisting motion until, without stopping, he was embedded as fully as he could possibly reach. I cried out, begging him to take the finger out, begging my Dad that I'd be a good girl, begging and crying as the finger waited, the tip buried deep in my belly.

He rotated again, moving the finger in a half rotation to the left, then a full rotation to the right. The finger pulled almost all the way out of me until just the tip was in me then, with more lotion on the finger, it was driven deep inside again. The finger was stunningly humiliating. It made me feel things that I didn't know how to deal with and it moved in and out a number of times, adding more lotion each time.

Finally, after a full two minutes or so of time, it was removed completely leaving me gasping for breath and beet red in embarrassment. For a moment or two nothing happened and I wondered what would be next. My anus and much of my rectum felt strange, tingling, stretched. I struggled to absorb all the sensations. My anus was even more tingly then more again and then itchy too. With a panicky gasp I realized that the ring of my anus felt warm, hot even and there was a strange smell of the lotion in the room that seemed familiar but I couldn't place. My bum was hot now and suddenly I could feel something deep up in my belly that felt like I was being touched still right in the center of my body.

What *was* that? My anus was hot, and started to sting. I pulled harder at my buttocks as the irritation increased. If I could have reached down to blow on it, I would have. The heat was unbearable now and I started to cry.

"Well Joe, it sure looks like she can feel the Vicks in her bottom," my father said.

Oh my God! Vicks Vap-o-rub, the stuff I used to have put on my chest when I was a child for a cold. That was the smell. It used to make my chest all warm and now, now it was deep in my most intimate place. I couldn't stop crying now as my father pulled my hands down from my buttocks and held them both by the wrist with one of his big hands at the small of my back. I didn't want my buttocks to close over the heat. I wanted to pull them open but a moment later the strap made me forget that as stripe after searing striped came down on my poor bare buttocks.

As per usual, it was fast and furious and I was crying as loud as I had ever done before it was over. I couldn't catch my breath for ages and the difference in this spanking from others I'd had in the past was profound. As the heat in my bottom slowly diminished to a deep seated heat, the stinging heat in my anus and deep up inside my body in my rectum became that much more present.

Just as I'd normally be getting myself back in control, this time the deep stinging heat was so part of the inside of my body it was as though I'd been spanked from the inside out. I didn't stop crying for several minutes and during this whole time, the flash of the digital camera let me know that there were several pictures being taken of my freshly spanked cheeks and all the places in between.

Gradually, I got my sobbing under control and then the presence of my uncle and father behind me started my crying again. My Dad picked this moment to make sure I knew that I hadn't been forgotten.

"Ok Caroline, get 'em spread nice and wide."

Fresh tears were automatic as I feared the additional punishment that was almost certainly to come.

Still, holding my buttocks wide apart was a slight relief to the awful burning sensation of the Vicks on my anus and I pulled them wide, wide open. Another series of flashes would record my red bottom held open by my hands and the white ribbon of my inner buttocks punctuated in the center by a glistening but angry pink anal ring.

My father and uncle waited until I was more under control before I could hear footsteps again.

"So Kev," It was my uncle again. "You've used the strap down here in her groove?" As he spoke, his finger tip ran up and down the centerline of my bottom, running from the bottom of my vagina to the bottom of my back tracing over my slippery and still hot crinkled anus on each stroke. It made me shiver all over.

"Yeah Joe," said my Dad. "Only on these proper punishments though. So you think the spoon will be more effective?"

What was a spoon? What were they talking about?

"Oh, no doubt. Here, let Marge show you."

I sobbed again. Clearly Aunt Marge was also in the room. Was there no end to my humiliation?

My uncle put both his hands firmly over mine and a moment later, my buttocks were stretched even wider apart and I was held there solidly.

I could hear my aunt walking towards me now.

With her by one side and my uncle on the other, I knew my punishment was about to continue and I cried at the helplessness of it.

"You go ahead and cry Caroline," my aunt said. "You know that you deserve every bit of this punishment."

She put one hand in the middle of my lower back to hold me immobile and a moment later I felt the stinging stroke of a wooden spoon along the white inner portion of one of my buttocks. It wasn't too bad but it was a shock. Compared to the strap, it was quite manageable and I wasn't too stressed but the wooden spoon is a devastating punishment device in the hands of a skilled disciplinarian and my Aunt Margaret was certainly one.

The wooden spoon smacked over and over and the heat at the point of impact built up extremely rapidly. She worked her way down one side and up the other until my previously white crack was redder than my just-strapped buttocks. Once I was sobbing she paused until I calmed down again with one hand still firmly on my back and the end of the wooden spoon resting along my crack. My uncle continued to have my hands pulling my cheeks wide, wide apart.

"Alright Caroline," she said. "You're almost at the end of your punishment. Now, why are you being punished?"

It took a couple of tries before I could speak a full sentence coherently

"Because I was b-b-b-bad and b-b-because I d-d-didn't tell when Sue stole something." I blubbered.

"Correct," said my Aunt. "Now, hopefully this is a lesson you'll remember for a long time when you think about becoming a criminal."

There was a pregnant pause. It was as though everyone in the room was holding their breath. The sound of a sharp smack arrived at my ears an instant before the sensation arrived at my brain which made it seem like an out-of-body experience. The wooden spoon had descended sharply right in the middle of my spread buttocks over the center of my anus. It felt like I'd been stabbed with a metal spike but before I could shriek in shock and pain, the spoon had already descended again. Ten sharp smacks hit me right in the middle of an already sensitized anus which was still slippery with Vicks before my Aunt and Uncle would stand up and leave me holding my bottom impossibly wide apart.

I don't know how long I was left over the chair, but it couldn't have been more than a few more minutes before I was finally able to stand.

"Fourteen minutes, Caroline," said my Mom and I shuffled off to my familiar corner.

There would be more pictures once corner time was over, this time as I was photographed, my face stayed blushing as red as my bum as I watched my Aunt and Uncle watching me, completely nude before the punishment was finally declared complete.

It was the embarrassment part of the punishment that would stay with me. The memory of being exposed, displayed to my relatives that my parents realized hit me the most. Over the next couple of years, my Uncle Joe saw me punished a half-dozen times. I'm sure he enjoyed each incident much more than I did. My other Uncle, who is the youngest of my Dad's two brothers, saw me get a regular spanking once and that was intensely embarrassing. Uncle Roger is only a few years older than me and having him see me naked even for a few minutes was awful. My Mom gave me that spanking and, worse, Uncle Roger was allowed to peruse my spanking album where he could see every part of me.

Eventually though, even this extreme embarrassment was bound to lose its influence. So, here I am, at sixteen ready to face the most embarrassing punishment ever.

It started this morning. I lost my temper in a moment of craziness and actually threw a bowl against the wall in the kitchen. It's Saturday, you see and I had plans to meet up with my friends Barb and Sue (yes, we're still besties) and hit the mall later. My Mom let me know that I had chores to do including a bunch of laundry and my room that will absolutely take all afternoon so - no going to the mall. I argued way too long but when my Mom gave me that look that she has and said "No, Caroline and that's final!" I grabbed my cereal bowl and hurled it against the wall. Not towards any mind you, just at the wall.

I had no sooner done it than I realized how much trouble I was in. You guessed it. I was to have a 'proper' punishment that very evening.

My Mom looked at me, the milk from the cereal still dripping down the side of the kitchen wall. She was thinking and I know she was thinking about how to punish me.

"Alright, young lady," she said quietly. "You want to throw a temper tantrum like you were a little three year-old child? Well, we can remind you of what it's like to be three years old."

I shivered. This didn't sound good at all.

I was banished to my room for awhile and decided to try to make amends by cleaning up. In the end, it wouldn't help. My Mom was on the phone talking to my Dad and, later to both my Uncles.

Just after lunch, she came to fetch me and I was plunked into a hot bath and told to make sure I was plenty clean. She waited until I'd stripped down and gotten into the hot water. The door was left open and my Mom came to fetch me after I'd been soaking for ages.

She took me by one arm and brought me back to my bedroom where a couple of towels had been placed on my bed. To my absolute horror, I was placed on my back and told to hold my knees up and wide, wide apart. It was terribly exposing and, while I looked unbelievingly, my Mom actually took a couple of pictures of me like that, spread open like a lab frog! I didn't dare protest.

Then, she pulled a chair right between my legs and picked up a pair of scissors. Grabbing a tuft of my blond pubic hair between her thumb and fingers, she snipped it short. In a few short minutes, she had reduced my usually sparse blond curls to a water soaked blond stubble before she reached for a pink Venus razor.

"Oh God Mom! Please no!" I pleaded. The plea arrived on deaf ears. A few minutes later, I was as bare as I'd been at the age of three. She even reached down lower down between my legs and removed the few hairs surrounding my anus.

Some warm oil finished the job and my Mom carefully recorded the new look on the digital camera as I cried softly. The removal of my pubic hair really did make me feel like a little girl. It was as though a mark of my adulthood had been stripped from me.

So, here I am, sixteen years old and completely naked. I've been bent over the back of the chair in the living room for almost half an hour and the room has slowly filled up with both my Uncles, my Aunt and, I can't quite believe this, both my young cousins. The can see everything sixteen year old Caroline has to offer of course, because I'm holding my buttocks wide wide apart. On the chair in front my eyes, is an open jar of Vicks Vap-o-rub which is all I can smell at the moment. I know that I'll be thoroughly treated inside my bottom before I get the spanking on the outside.

All I can think about though is this. I'm sixteen and will certainly live with my folks until I'm at least eighteen. If this isn't the worst, what more severe punishments will they think up in the next two years! Oh my, I'm sure I'm in for surprises to come.