Toy Store Theft Translates to Lifelong
Lesson & Taste for Bare Bottom Penance!
Just one of many marvelous,
illustrated letters featured in RCR #3
My most memorable spanking experience was at the hands of a
relative stranger: the woman who ran the toy store in my home town, Mrs. Emily Winchel.
If you're my age, you'll remember how huge the Davy Crockett era
was to kids in the mid to late 50's. If you're not, allow me to explain that Davy was the
first in what has turned out to be a long line of popular TV or movie marketing phenomena.
Davy toys were many, & every kid wanted as many of them as they could talk their parents
into buying.
My parents were cool enough to get me a coonskin cap, a Davy
shirt, a flintlock rifle, & a powder horn. But I didn't have the flintlock pistol that
completed the set, & I really wanted it. I was 12 at the time & I remember how that
pistol was all I could think of. My parents said they'd get it for my birthday, but to my
way of thinking, that was next to never since it was months away. I had some money saved
up from my allowances & wanted to buy the gun myself, but my parents wouldn't let me.
So I used to go into the toy store in town
& moon over the
flintlock pistol & a few other Davy items, too. I got so desperate that I tried to talk
the lady who ran the store into letting me have the pistol right away since my parents
were going to buy it for me anyway. Mrs. Winchel (I'll never forget her name or face!) was
really nice, but she wouldn't go for it. She told me that learning to wait for some of the
things I wanted was an important lesson. She smiled & promised that the pistol would be
right there waiting for me when it was time for me to have it.
I liked Mrs. Winchel, but I thought she was stupid for not letting
me have the gun. I tried whining at my parents again, but they just told me to be quiet
about it, or I could forget getting it for my birthday. I concluded my parents were stupid
too, & started dreaming about that pistol & how I could get it.
I wasn't the smartest kid in the world. I decided to steal the
pistol & say I found it in the woods if anyone asked. There were no security cameras or
alarms in those days, & there wasn't much cause for anyone to be suspicious in our town
anyway, so it wasn't all that hard for me to hang around the store & walk out with a
pistol one day when Mrs. Winchel got a phone call.
I was so happy to have the gun that I didn't care that I'd stolen
it. I really thought my plan was foolproof too, so the very next day, I added the pistol
to my Davy outfit & proudly displayed it for all to see. My friends all thought I was
the coolest thing in town. They assumed my parents had bought me the gun & didn't
question me at all. That got my confidence flying, but that only lasted until my mother
rang the lunch bell & called for me to come home.
My blissful happiness ended as soon as I walked into the kitchen
& saw the box the pistol had come in sitting on the kitchen table. Like I said, I wasn't
the smartest kid in the world. I'd stuffed the box under my bed the night before,
&
forgotten all about it. I couldn't think of anything else to say when my mother demanded
to know how I got it, so I told her I'd raided my piggy bank & bought it. I knew I'd get
in trouble for disobeying her, but I wasn't so dumb that I didn't know which was the
lesser of two evils, disobedience or theft!
My parents weren't big spankers & I hadn't gotten spanked since
I was 8, so I figured I'd get grounded & have my allowance withheld for a week. But then
my mom decided to go upstairs & take a look at my piggy bank. The stupid pig squealed as
soon as mom checked it, & then the you know what really hit the fan!
Mom turned out to be far from stupid, after all. As soon as she
knew I hadn't bought the gun, she deduced what I'd done & interrogated a frightened
confession out of me in a matter of minutes. Mom was real scary when she was mad,
& she
was real mad that day! She took the pistol & my hand, & nearly dragged me the few
blocks to the toy store.
Mrs. Winchel was alone in the store when we entered. I recall her
eyes opening wide in surprise when mom put the gun on the counter & told her what I'd
done. I recall her insisting that I look up at her instead of at my feet, & then I'll
never forget how hurt & disappointed she looked. For the first time, I felt really,
really guilty for stealing the gun.
Mom was sort of ranting, but Mrs. Winchel was as calm as could be.
I stood as still as I could while Mrs. Winchel calmed mom down. Mom said something about
not knowing what to do with me, to which Mrs. Winchel replied that she had a very good
idea of the best course of action. Mrs. Winchel had 4 kids of her own, was a pillar of our
church, &, as a career woman, was respected by my mom & most of the other women in
town. I guess you could say that she was ahead of her time in one respect, but the
solution she came up with was very old-fashioned indeed!
I wish I could remember every word that was said, but I don't.
However, I do recall some of what was said, & have since recreated the following
conversation in my fantastic memory of that day: "All children are tempted to steal,
Betty. Most don't because they listen to what we try to teach them. The ones who don't
listen aren't really bad, they just need a little extra lesson. I've known you & little
Billy since he was born. You've done a good job raising him. He's a good boy. He just made
a mistake."
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Fiction is
fine,
letters are dandy,
& photos &
art are eye candy.
Butt,
sometimes, you've just gotta
see it to believe it...
And
really
appreciate it!!! |
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Grown
WOMEN
AND men
DO blush,
beg, sniffle &, sometimes, bawl like
bad little kids
when they're scolded, stripped &
oh-sooo SOUNDLY SPANKED
by a diehard devotee of
THE single-most
sensational
acts of D/s ever invented by man or woman kind! |
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SEE for yourself
in one of Scarlett Hill Studio's real spanker, real raw reaction
sought
& required psychodramas
&
YOU WILL BELIEVE!
AND NOW YOU CAN,
with ease!! |
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"But he stole this gun from you!!"
"Yes, he did. But we'll take care of that,
& I'm sure Billy
will never steal anything again..."
I recall worshipping Mrs. Winchel right then. She was going to let
me off the hook, & calm mom down at the same time, too. Before I could canonize her in
my thoughts though, Mrs. Emily Winchel-- career woman, religious pillar, & mother--
finished her sentence.
"...after he has paid his penance for breaking the Eighth
Commandment."
Penance?!?
I went to church with my parents
& all that, but
I wasn't a particularly religious kid. Still, I knew enough to know penance was not
a good thing. I wasn't sure what Mrs. Winchel meant. Neither was mom, so she asked.
Unfortunately for me, Mrs. Winchel was only too happy to clarify her meaning.
"Speaking from my own experience, Betty, I think Billy should
receive the sound spanking he earned for stealing the toy. And then he should work here in
the store for an hourly wage until he pays it off. That would teach him not to steal,
&
also the value of working for something he wants."
I didn't like the sound of Mrs. Winchel's solution at all! I tried
to say so, but both women turned on me with danger in their eyes, so I shut up. I really
thought I was too big to be spanked, & mom wasn't a big believer in spanking anyway, so
I expected her to thank Mrs. Winchel for her suggestion, & then not follow it.
But I learned a hard lesson that day-- just when you think you've
got parents figured out, they'll do something to surprise you! Mom did, in more ways than
one. She not only said she thought Mrs. Winchel was right, she also said she thought that
since she was the injured party, she should be the one to give me my spanking.
I was too shocked to move or say a thing at first, but Mrs.
Winchel wasn't. She looked at me, then at mom, smiled, & said she would happily treat me
as if I were her own son, who she said never committed the same crime twice after having
his bare bottom spanked!
Bare bottom!
I would have run out of there, but mom was still
holding my hand. I whined loudly about being too old to be spanked, being real sorry
already, all that sort of thing. But I may as well have been mute & invisible. Neither
woman paid the slightest attention to me as they settled the rest of my fate. I would be
left in Mrs. Winchel's care until the shop closed at 5 p.m. She would bring me home on her
way home, but until then, I was at her mercy. She assured my mother that I would learn a
lesson I'd never forget, & then begin earning the hourly wage that would pay for the
stupid pistol.
I really couldn't believe my mother would leave me in the clutches
of the obviously sadistic Mrs. Winchel, but she did. I recall watching the door close
behind her & feeling like it was the end of my joyously youthful world. I stood stock
still, not knowing what to do. It was the longest, most scary moment of my life.
Mrs. Winchel swept past me & went to lock the front door. She
turned the "Out to Lunch" sign toward the street, & then came at me like an
avenging angel out to smite the devil. I'd always thought Mrs. Winchel was a pleasant
looking lady-- she was about 5'4", buxom & matronly, wore her hair up in the
fashion of the day, smiled a lot, & had nice, friendly brown eyes-- but right then she
looked like Godzilla to me!
"In the back, my boy. You've got a good, sound spanking
coming. Let's hop to it." I think she said, & I recall thinking she had to be out
of her mind to think I'd "hop" to get my ass spanked! It had been years since my
last spanking, but I hadn't forgotten how terrible it was. My dad had administered my last
spanking & it was awful, but somehow, I had the feeling the one Mrs. Winchel planned to
give me would be even worse.
Mrs. Winchel put a hand on my shoulder
& guided me to the
storage area behind the store. I took tiny little steps at first, but then Mrs. Winchel's
free hand whacked my backside hard & I scampered the rest of the way. I remember being
surprised at how much that first smack over my pants & shorts stung, & how my mind
raced wondering how much worse it would feel on my bare bottom!
I was too scared to care about pride, so I started begging,
pleading, & whining before we got into the back room. I knew I was going to get spanked,
& I knew it was going to be on my bare bottom, but it never occurred to me really
resist. Mrs. Winchel was my elder, & a woman I'd known all my life. I sure didn't want
her to show me how experienced a spanker she was-- what she'd said about her son had
already convinced me!-- but being 12 back in the 50's was a lot different than being 12
today. I was going to get bare bottom spanked, & all I could do was try & whine enough
to make her want to go easy on me.
Mrs. Winchel propelled me through the storage room door
& into
the middle of the big, forbidding warehouse area. There were rows of shelves that rose way
above my head & boxes scattered around. Mrs. Winchel paused for a moment, then pushed me
toward a stack of crates. Before I could grasp everything that was happening, she sat down
on one of the crates, pulled her skirt up out of the way, & pulled me between her knees.
Locking her legs around mine, she held me fast & then got my full attention as she
reached out & took hold of the stretch waistband of my pants.
"No! You can't! Please don't! Not on my bare heinie!..."
I'm sure these were among the many protests I squealed while the determined mother of 4
demonstrated her expertise at baring bad bottoms for spanking. When I tried to grab my
pants, she slapped my hands with one hand, & tugged them down to my knees with the
other.
I recall feeling frantically humiliated as I stood there with just
my soon to be lowered jockey shorts covering my 12 year-old privates. I was a modest kid,
so not even my mother or father had seen me that naked for a long, long time. What
was even more embarrassing to me was the fact that I hadn't yet attained what I
& my
male friends considered the mark of male maturity; pubic hair. I'd lied to my friends
&
said I had, but I hadn't. Why that should matter to me so much right then, I don't know,
but I vividly remember feeling ashamed that Mrs. Winchel was going to see that I was still
a bald little boy!
"You can't! You're not my mother!" I hollered, holding
onto the waistband of my little jockey shorts.
"No, I'm not your mother, Billy." Mrs. Winchel replied
in a patient tone, "But I am going to soundly spank your naughty bare bottom
nonetheless."
A short tug of war followed, but it ended quickly when Mrs.
Winchel somehow got her hand behind me & gave my sensitive seat three or four really
hard slaps. They burned & hurt something fierce, so, without thinking, I let go of my
underwear & put my hands back to protect & rub my assaulted ass. Before I even knew
it, my jockeys was down around my knees with my pants, & my hairless privates were
staring Mrs. Winchel in the face. She had to see! I thought I'd die of
shame!
Mrs. Winchel didn't seem at all flustered by my display or by the
scarlet blush I could feel on my face. She simply spread her legs apart, took my hips in
her hands, & moved me around to the side of her lap. I nearly dove across her knee when
she ordered me to, experiencing for the first time in my life the paradox of eagerly
jumping from a merely embarrassing position into a far more humiliating & dangerous one.
Mrs. Winchel took her time about getting me ready once I was over
her lap. She moved me around, reached down & pulled my pants & shorts the rest of the
way down my legs to my ankles, & then reached out & pulled my arm up behind my back. I
tried to move around when I realized my little cock was resting against Mrs. Winchel's
warm, stocking-covered thigh, but she had me pinned down too tight. As embarrassing as it
was having her staring down at my very bare bottom, I was mortified with certainty that
she felt my little nubbin' too. I had been acquainted with Mrs. Winchel all my life, but
never in any way that could prepare me for the intimacy of what was going on. I couldn't
ejaculate yet, but I was at the age when almost anything could get me hard. I prayed that
I wouldn't, & I also prayed that Mrs. Winchel would hurry up & get it over with.
Neither of those prayers were answered, as it turned out, but
first things first.
Mrs. Winchel didn't spank at all like my mom or dad. I'd gotten a
lot of one whackers in my life, but I'd only been spanked in the traditional OTK position
twice: once by my mom when I was 6, & once by my dad when I was 8. Both of those were on
the bare & hurt like crazy, but they were probably less than 20 slaps each & over
&
done with in a hurry. Mrs. Winchel wasn't in any hurry.
She scolded me for a long time while I hung there with my butt up
in her face. I don't remember everything she said, but I recall her mentioning the Eighth
Commandment ("Thou shalt not steal!") & "Sparing the Rod & Spoiling the
Child!" I'd listened to several minutes of her sermonizing when I couldn't take it
anymore. I yelled out for her to shut up & get it over with, which got me the two
hardest, most hurtful slaps I'd ever experienced ,& a "Don't be insolent, my
boy!" admonishment.
I didn't know anything could sting my ass that much! It had been a
long time since I'd been spanked, so I don't know if Mrs. Winchel slapped harder than dad
or I had just forgotten how much a spanking hurt. Whatever it was, I know I howled like
crazy as my whole butt erupted in flames, & my young intellect recoiled with fear at the
thought of more to come!
Mrs. Winchel went back to sermonizing for about a minute or so,
then she said the words I've replayed in my fantasies ever since, "Are you ready to
learn your lesson, Billy?"
I answered with what I assume is all the usual stuff: "I've
already learned... I'm sorry... Never do it again... Please don't spank... Not too
hard..."
Mrs. Winchel listened patiently until I ran out of things to say,
tucked me in tighter on her lap, & then started slapping my bare little butt like it was
possessed & she was going to drive the demons right back to hell! I'll never forget how
that spanking felt at first. (I guess it's like the first time you make love-- no matter
how many years pass, you don't forget the details.) Her palm was big enough to almost
cover a cheek, & I'm sure she spanked from cheek to cheek to start, because I recall my
whole ass stinging & burning, then stinging & burning more, then more, & more. As
far as I knew, I'd never felt such intense pain in my young life. I couldn't believe how
much it hurt, but every time I thought it couldn't get worse, Mrs. Winchel's hand would
slap my bare ass & show me how wrong I was.
I know I raised a real ruckus while Mrs. Winchel warmed my bottom,
& I remember feeling like she'd never stop before I burst into tears. I'd totally
forgotten any semblance of modesty or where my nubbin was by 10 slaps or so, & only
became remotely aware that my little guy had stiffened against Mrs. Winchel's warm thigh
as I bounced around on her lap. I remember pleading & crying uncontrollably for a little
while, then everything sort of went blank while Mrs. Winchel continued to spank my sorry
seat.
I don't know how long Mrs. Winchel spanked me or how many spanks
she administered. I don't even remember her letting me off her knee. All I remember is
sobbing & gasping for air over her lap one minute, & then realizing I was dancing
around the store room half naked & holding my abused ass. I remember noticing Mrs.
Winchel watching me, but I didn't care. It felt good to rub, but it was like trying to put
out a bonfire with a glass of water. I don't know how long I danced before I noticed my
little cock was half hard, but when I did, some modesty returned & I bent over to get my
shorts & pants.
"Leave them. You've got a date with that corner before they
come back up." Mrs. Winchel said firmly, pointing across the room. I sure wasn't
about to argue about anything. I left my pants right where they were & hopped over to
the corner.
"I'll call you when it's time to come out, Billy." she
informed me, then added, "I'm going to open the store. But I'll be watching you. If I
see you rub your bottom just once, I'll close the shop up tight & put you back over my
knee again!"
"I won't rub! I won't! I promise!" I think I said,
totally petrified by the notion of going back over her knee.
Mrs. Winchel told me later that I spent fifteen minutes in that
corner. It was the longest, most enlightening fifteen minutes of my life. I put my hands
in front of me so Mrs. Winchel couldn't possibly see think I was rubbing. It was quiet in
the store, so I could hear her turn the lock on the front door, & her footsteps as she
moved around on the wooden floor. I heard her come back towards me once & stood very
still, not at all concerned that my bare little bottom was shining under the hanging
lights in the back. I knew I passed muster when I heard her walk back toward the counter
at the front. I felt a lot of things as I stood in that corner, but I didn't feel an ounce
of resentment at Mrs. Winchel or my mom. I knew I'd done wrong & deserved what I got. I
had been taught to trust my elders, & I guess I did because as bad as the spanking had
been, I never doubted for a second that Mrs. Winchel had spanked me for my own good
I don't know how long I stood there before I noticed my little
cock was still half hard. The memory of Mrs. Winchel's warm thigh rubbing against it as I
bucked on her lap was fresh, & I was a randy 12 year-old. Mrs. Winchel was still at the
front of the store, so I looked behind me & figured I could touch myself with no one
being the wiser. I did, carefully, & it felt great. I think between what had happened
& how I felt standing there naked for Mrs. Winchel to see, I got a rush of lust. I was
too afraid to play with myself like I did at home, but I wanted to badly. (And did later
that night.)
Mrs. Winchel came back eventually
& told me to pull up my pants.
Then she sat back on the crate & called me over to her. She pulled me onto her lap
&
enveloped me in a big hug. I remember feeling her soft breasts against my cheek as she
told me she had spanked me for my own good just like she did her own kids. She said she
loved them very much & didn't like to spank them, but firm guidance was an important
part of love. Then she said she loved all kids, including me. She kissed my forehead
&
hair a few times while she soothed me, & I felt weird feelings of love & respect in
return.
Mrs. Winchel took me home that evening
& every evening for the
next two weeks while I worked off the price of the pistol. Even before my bottom had
recovered two days later, I wanted her to spank me again-- at least, I fantasized that I
wanted her to while I played with myself. However, in the light of day & Mrs. Winchel's
sound spanking technique, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I did have chances, like
the second time she caught me climbing on the shelves in the back & told me I'd get a
spanking if she caught me doing it again. I kick myself today for not climbing right back
up on those shelves or challenging her with a, "You wouldn't dare!"
As you can tell, I still think of Mrs. Winchel fondly,
& often.
She was the first & last woman to spank me so soundly, so many, many years ago. I
secretly searched for a woman like Mrs. Winchel for years, but I didn't find one. Then I
grew up, got married, & accepted the fact that I never would. My own wife would never
understand what happened with that fine lady, & why it has stayed an important part of
me ever since. That's okay, as long as I can keep enjoying your magazines & my memories
of Mrs. Winchel. -- Sincerely, Peter J., NE
