This story includes some dealing with bodily functions so those who find that subject offensive should read no further. All characters are over 18.
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When I returned home from being away at university, I was dismayed that my mother immediately reinstituted the disciplinary regime under which I and my siblings had grown up. Here I was in my early 20s and going to work every morning, but I would find myself being taken across my mother's lap to be spanked many times when I returned from work.
She would lecture me on keeping my room tidy and properly putting my clothes away. It seemed that she became more and more intrusive into very personal matters: for example, she soon made me stand in front of her and lower my panties for her to inspect the crotch for stains.
Even worse, if that is possible, was her practice of disciplining me in front of others who might be present. She seemed to delight in putting me through my paces when one of my aunts or female cousins was present. These women would smile as my mother lifted my skirt, lowered my panties, and took me across her lap for a spanking that would inevitably expose my most private places to the view of whoever was visiting.
The visitor would inevitably adopt a very condescending tone, saying "Susan seems to be quite grown up to need to be spanked with her panties down." This made me feel all the more oppressed. My mother began to expand the humiliation by making me unbutton my blouse and remove my bra in front of the visitor before I received my spanking.
When, for example, my Aunt Charlotte would ask why I was made to do this, my mother would appear delighted to respond, "Bras are for big girls, Charlotte, not little ones who need to be spanked." She would go on to tell my aunt that now I was being supervised in the bathroom "because Susan has forgotten at times to wipe her little hiney hole after she makes her doody."
It wasn't long before she imposed yet another embarrassing change in my life. First, she told me I could no longer use tampons for my period because she felt unmarried girls should wear maxipads. If she thought I had been especially naughty, she found in her drawer one of those old Kotex belts that women used to wear with tabbed sanitary napkins and I would be made to wear that contraption during my period. Those belts would rarely stay in place so that I would inevitably get period stains in my panties, which of course resulted in further punishment.
She also started to make me wait to be spanked as a way of increasing the impact of the eventual spanking. Now I was required to stand at one place in the front of the living room not far from where visitors would enter the house with my skirt pulled up above my waist and my panties pulled down to my knees. Mother marked the floor with a red circle and this was referred to as "Susan's naughty spot."
She seemed to delight in ordering me to report to my naughty spot and prepare to be disciplined by lifting my skirt and lowering my panties as I described. After she had finished spanking me, I now had to return to the naughty spot and stand there with both my bare now red bottom on display and everyone who came by also able to gaze on my genitals.
I realized I should be grateful that she must have been aware that it has become fashionable for young women to shave their pubic hair; otherwise, I am sure that she would have shaved mine so as to expose my bald pudendum.
Aunt Charlotte's daughter, Pamela, was 20, only two or three years younger than I was, but despite my aunt's almost obscene interest in seeing me punished, Pamela was not burdened with the kind of horridly embarrassing disciplinary regime under which I suffered. She would invariably visit when I was about to be spanked and she would giggle when she walked in and comment, "Oh, Susie must have been naughty because there she is on her naughty spot."
My mother would be pleased to see that Pamela embarrassed me, so she might add to my shame by explaining in detail why I was being spanked. She might have found that there were stains in my panties, for example. Pamela would raise her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner and respond that she was surprised that "Susie still didn't wipe her tushee properly."
My mother then would add that she had watched me do my business in the bathroom and that I had "made an especially big smelly doody" that morning.
"Maybe you should keep a watch on what Susie eats, Aunt Mary," Pamela would suggest in her answer.
"Oh, I'm starting do that," my mother would then reply, adding, "I've been trying to get Susie more regular so I've made sure she has her fruit juice and bean salad." She tended to grin at that in case Pamela or whoever else was getting the benefit of these intimate matters would soon be prompted to ask more insinuating questions.
Thus Pamela would learn that I had let out quite a few farts when my mother watched me during my bowel movement that morning.
"Oh, Aunt Mary, that really is so unladylike," Pam would exclaim. "Have you ever thought that maybe you should put Susie in those cute little girly panties with bunnies or ducks on them? A woman I met at the yoga class was telling us that she has been having her daughters, who are living at home like Susie does and are about her age, wear those panties and if they are naughty, she said she puts them in plastic panties, you know, the kind children wear over their diapers. She said that the girls hate them because they make noise crinkling so everyone knows they are wearing them but it does get them to wipe so they don't stain their undies."
Hearing that, my mother would turn to me, while I had to stand on my naughty spot and be the recipient of all this embarrassment, and say, "See, Susan, how tolerant I have been in not making you wear those panties that Pamela has mentioned."
This would let Pamela respond by carefully spelling out to my mother the location of the children's wear store where these horrible panties could be purchased.
"You might go there and bring Susie, Aunt Mary," she would oh so helpfully suggest, "so they can be sure you get the right size. The woman in my class says you should get them a size smaller so that they will be quite tight."
Even my mother had her limits in listening to Pamela's teasing. One day Pamela came by with her mother and started asking my mother about my most recent offenses and punishments.
"Does Susie have heavy periods, Aunt Mary?" Pamela blurted out without seeming to show any concern for the usual reticence women still show about their menstrual habits.
My Aunt Charlotte took umbrage at her daughter's effrontery—at least this one time she did.
"Pamela, you really should not talk that way," she scolded, and apparently she was sufficiently embarrassed by Pamela's behavior to ask my mother if she wouldn't mind if Charlotte disciplined Pamela right then and there.
"Mother, please don't embarrass me that way," Pam whined, but my mother was actually interested in seeing how her sister would punish my cousin, whose conduct even my mother was starting to find annoying, so she quickly assured her sister that Charlotte was welcome to discipline Pamela right then if she felt it would "make her think before she made remarks like that."
