The Public Punishment
This is a fantasy I had as a kid, the first one that involved me ever being spanked. Before this one I always fantasized about made up kids getting it.
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Lissa wasn't sure where she was. She didn't recognize the street she was on. Being ten years old, she'd never been able to get very far away by herself, but somehow she had managed to wander much farther than ever before. It was much prettier than her street, with lots of flowers she had never seen before. She couldn't help herself, she had to have some of them for her mother. She started picking them, oblivious to what was going on around her.
Suddenly she was surrounded by a crowd of people. They all talked at once, and she couldn't make out what they were saying. She could tell that they were angry, but she didn't know why. One man pushed his way to the front of the group, and he towered over her, making her feel very small.
Well, miss, you're in big trouble. Do you have any idea what you've done," the man asked her.
"No, I don't," said Lissa.
"You're holding the flowers and you have no idea why you're in trouble," he asked, his tone getting angrier.
She looked down at her hand as if she'd never seen it before. She had been clutching the flowers tighter than she had realized since the man had started talking.
"It's against the rules to pick the flowers on this street, we've worked very hard to make this a nice place, and we don't want little girls coming along and ruining it. We punish children who decide that it's okay to pick other people's flowers," the man said, striking fear in Lissa.
"You punish kids," Lissa squeaked. It was all she could manage to say.
"Yes we do, and now you're going to be spanked, right here in front of everybody. The two of you,"he said to two women who stood on each side of Lissa, "each hold her arms and bend her over."
Lissa tried to struggle, but the women held her arms tightly, and she was swiftly bent over. The next thing she knew, the hem of her dress was lifted up and her panties were unceremoniously pulled down to her knees. She tried to protest, but she was helpless to do anything. The man's hand came down, slapping her bare bottom hard. The first was followed by a second, and then there were too many to count. She couldn't get away from his hand no matter what she did. He spanked her for what seemed like a long time, and her bottom hurt more than any other spanking she'd ever received. She started crying, and then couldn't stop. She felt sorry for herself, being bent over and spanked in front of all those people. She could hear snickering and comments, which made things worse.
Finally the spanking stopped, and the man pulled up her panties. The crowd parted, and he let her leave then, to walk home, a very sorry little girl, without her flowers.
zadigski email
This is a cute story, which by itself is just about a naughty child being punished. It has the moral that you should not be allowed to destroy public things. But the author's comments emphasize that many spanking stories about children are about the author's desires to be punished rather than to get enjoyment from the spanking of children.
Kessily email
I like the way this was written; it felt very dreamlike to me, which makes sense since it was inspired by a fantasy. I especially found the ending poignant and could picture the sad little girl walking away after her confusing experience, still wondering why picking flowers was so bad.
It reminds me of an earlier, more innocent time, when it really wouldn't have been terribly shocking for an adult, even a stranger, to spank a child who had done something wrong. It didn't feel cruel or abuse... just showed the difference between how an adult thinks, and how a child thinks. I enjoyed it.
Kris email
This was almost a dreamy piece, but it felt to me a little choppy. The choppy sentences may have been an attempt to capture a child's voice, but one of the things that makes a child's voice fresh is to describe things in that voice, sometimes using child like words (my heart was going pitty-pat), or to describe what they see from the perspective of the adult telling the story (although I didn't know that they were orcids, because as a child I had only seen the invitingly soft purple that smeared against my fingers when I pressed them).
There's a lot of emotion to explore that lack descriptions to convince me the child feels anything. For example, as she is gripped by implacable adult hands, there's an opportunity to describe how helpless she feels, although it's hard to avoid the stereotypcial spiral of dread, racing heart, sweaty hands--all things that might have lingered in the dreamer who wakes up.
I feel like this piece has potential.