Author:
Marek
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Date Posted: 23:30:46 12/29/23 Fri
Well, I tried to post in the forum where I posted the previous stories, but it now requires a login. Probably because of the spam messages -- but if so, why are they still there?
Anyway, I'm just going to post the story here... I hope it won't get deleted, as it's definitely not a real account!
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The Bear Behind
"Wow!" exclaimed Frank when he entered the shop. "These things really exist? I thought they were just a myth!"
I looked in his direction. There was a rack of novelty paddles on display.
"For the Cute Little Deer with a Bear Behind," he read. "Just like in the stories, eh, Kate?"
We were on our honeymoon at the time and Frank loved to tease me. He was the one who discovered my spanko nature, the nature I was fervently denying to anyone, including myself. Spanking, in my family, was a sacred ritual to punish children. If Father (always Father, never Dad) had any idea about my feelings towards it, he would... well, he would probably blister my butt anyway. He had something of a one-track mind.
I was glad when I could escape from him and from his authority. His mouth was full of God, but his God was God of pain and suffering, and I grew up to realize that a god like that is not a god that deserves love and respect.
Of course I never dared to tell Father that. It helped that Frank let strategically slip some hints that let him know that he is still spanking me, as a good husband should. The fact that the spankings involved a good deal less pain and a good deal more pleasure... Well, Father didn't have to know everything, did he? After all, he probably never thought that a woman is capable of pleasure.
I looked the paddle up. "Seems awfully big," I said.
"Well, it's for when a girl is really naughty," whispered Frank.
"Oh, you mean as a punishment or as a reward?"
"A bit of both. I think I'll buy it."
I didn't allow anything like that, of course. *I* bought it. The clerk gave us a knowing smile.
The paddle was a good one, I reflected back in the car. Sturdy and balanced, easy to wield. The deer was really a doe, small, skittish, looking with her big brown eyes towards me. But the bear... that was no cute teddy, it was a ferocious beast, teeth bared, as if getting ready to pounce on the deer.
That bear fascinated me. I felt like the cute little doe was me, and the bear was my past, all the scars and stings I bore. Instinctively, I knew that the doe is safe from the bear... just as long as she won't turn her head and look at it.
Because the moment she will, the bear will strike.
That evening in a motel, I got my foreplay spanking and we tried the paddle out. It had a wicked sting! I was only able to take a few swats with it before we had to stop, but those swats were exquisite. They made me hop around the room in the nude until I stumbled and fell into the bed where more adventures awaited me.
You should know that while I like being spanked (within limits), and Frank LOVES to spank me, we decided early on to not use Domestic Discipline. Partly because that's what Father expected us to use. Even though he didn't like Frank much for his liberal opinions (his opinions were actually FAR more liberal than he let slip to him), he believed him to be my lord and master. He wouldn't understand how much better my life was now -- he wouldn't believe in possibility of better life than I had with him.
He would never buy a paddle like this, a paddle that was fun and playful. His spankings were done by belt that was wicked and always meant business. And when its business end met MY business end, well... sparks were flying. And tears.
The paddle stayed with us. I was spanked with it quite regularly and I came to love it. I could take up to ten swats without crying now, though that really depended on how it was used; Frank could do extremely irregular spanks that were impossible to get ready for and that made me yield much faster.
He stopped spanking me when I got pregnant, several months into marriage. Well, I actually felt he could have stopped a bit later, but as a first-time father he was fretting about the new life inside me, even more than myself.
"If I spank you," he said, "it might confuse our little girl."
"So what?" I replied. "She'll grow up to be a spanko like us. Is that so bad a fate?"
I loved to tease him. He was powerless against me thanks to his self-imposed spanking ban, but he was threatening to make a list and deal with me "later".
Our daughter was born on time, to the great relief of both me and Frank. Frank's parents were very supportive, and even Father smiled and congratulated Frank (not me, obviously -- I was just doing my duty, as far as he was concerned). Baby pictures started to proliferate on both sides.
When I looked at Father smiling, I remembered the times we went through together. How Mom died when I was five, when something went horribly wrong and instead of giving life to my little brother, she lost her own. That was, perhaps, when Father's God became what he was. After all, only a god who relishes in pain and suffering would cause so much of it, both to my Mom and to Father.
And to me. Father was not a monster, I knew that when I saw him melt over baby Susan (we named her after Mom), but he was a monster's servant and that's not really that much of a difference.
Of course, with a child in the house, the matter of the paddle arose. We didn't want to hide it in a drawer where a curious child might find it. Instead, we opted for a different tactics.
We hung the paddle on the wall in the living room, between two pictures. It was high enough to not be reached easily and it looked exactly like a family heirloom, perhaps a gag gift by a friend. Frank's parents barely noticed it. Father DID notice it and seemed to approve.
But Susan never noticed. For her, it was just a decoration without meaning.
Would we use spanking with Susan? We wondered about that question. Noone really asked it -- Father just assumed Susan will be raised the same way as me, with spankings for every little thing, while Frank's parents probably never thought about it. As she was growing up, she wasn't especially naughty child, but could be taxing at times, as every child.
I swatted her behind at times, when she was being deliberately provocative, but we both treated it as a game.
When Susan was three years old, I started her with kindergarten and tried to find a job. As luck would have it, I was hired by the same kindergarten as a teacher. The headmaster was Frank's friend and he knew me well.
And he had a novelty paddle in his office as well.
Hanging on a nail, it was small, like a ping-pong paddle. On one side, there was a smiling child's face and the word "Nice". The other side, though, bore an image of reddened bottom and the word "Naughty".
Naturally, I asked about it.
He seemed a bit apologetic about it. "It's been a part of this place for decades," he said. "Of course, I don't support such things, but... I still like it here. When a child is particularly naughty -- bullies others, for example -- what I like to do is go here and just look at the paddle for a while before I contact the parents."
"Maybe sometimes you wish you could use it," I said with a smile.
He shook his head. "No, not really. If parents spank their children, I don't mind that. I don't mind if they are spanked for things they do here. But that's parents. They know their children best, they know whether a spanking is warranted or not for a particular misbehaviour, but we are teachers. We have too many children to look after to know any of them well enough."
"I have children," he continued, "and yes, I do spank them at times. And that's why I know that spanking has to be supplemented by so much more to work."
"It's like chilli peppers," I said.
"What?"
"Chilli peppers can be part of a meal, but only a small part," I said. "Otherwise the meal is too spicy. And some people, well, they might be allergic to them and so it's best to not use them at all."
"Interesting analogy," he said. "Your own experience?"
I smiled. "My Father would break the Scoville scale."
I liked having Susan in my class in kindergarten. At first, she liked it as well -- unlike other kids she didn't have to get away from her Mom. Slowly, though, it started to change.
She was fussy and grumpy. She kicked the legs of chair when she was sitting. And she started talking back in class. At home, she was still my little angel, but in the kindergarten she started to get out of control.
"Susan," I said one day when we were leaving for home, after she tried to hit another child in the face. "You can't behave like that."
"I can," she said petulantly.
"Susie, are you troubled by something?" I asked. "Maybe you don't want to be in my class?"
"No, I want!" she said. "It's just..."
"Yes?"
"You're MY Mommy!" she cried. "I want you for myself!"
Such adorable childish jealousy. She didn't want to share me. She tried to fight for me.
There was really nothing I could do.
Except one thing.
"Susan," I said, "you hit someone again and Mommy will have to spank you."
Even though Susan was never spanked, she knew what it means through her friends.
That evening I told Frank about that. He wasn't really happy.
"You shouldn't have told her that," he said.
"It was that or to spank her on the spot," I said. "I understand her, Frank, I really do, but..."
But, I realized, I used the threat of spanking as a crutch, to avoid explaining things that I couldn't explain to her yet... that perhaps I couldn't satisfactorily explain at all.
"What is going to happen next time?" he asked. "If she does that again, then you either have to spank her and cause her pain... or to not spank her and break your word. Neither of those is a very good lesson."
He reached up and took the novelty paddle down. I gulped. Over the years, we got more toys and the old paddle saw hardly any use now. Only on anniversaries.
But Frank never spanked me when I didn't want it!
My eyes were drawn to the cute little deer... and to the threatening, looming bear behind.
"I know I haven't been home too much lately," he said. "You... you know Susan much better than me. If you think she should be spanked, well, I'm really in no position to disagree. But, what I CAN do, is to paddle YOUR bottom when you spank her. A spanking for Susan means a spanking for you."
I nodded. "So if I spank her, I must be willing to pay a price as well?"
"Yes."
He turned me over his lap and gave me a few light swats. Spankings tend to be light when you have a little child in house.
Susan was still grumpy throughout the next two weeks. I tried to play with her more when I was at home, but I couldn't give her any extra attention at kindergarten, that wouldn't be fair to other children.
Then it happened. Children were drawing a picture of their family and I put the best ones on the wall.
Susan's picture wasn't among them. She never got the hang of drawing and the spae was limited, but she got so angry that she took down another child's picture and tore it to pieces.
For the first time in my life, I was absolutely livid with her. I put her into the corner (the harshest punishment we could use), comforted the boy whose picture was destroyed, and had to suffer through a very unpleasant conversation with his parents. When they asked me what I was planning to do, I said "Of course, I will deal with Susan. Don't worry about that."
And deal with her I planned.
I sat her down in the living room and read her the riot act. I told her that her behaviour was unacceptable. I used some pretty strong words and Susan started to sob.
I looked up and saw the paddle. For the first time, I saw it differently.
I was no longer the cute little doe, now I was the bear behind. And it was Susan who was the doe, the cute little doe who had the bear behind and couldn't escape from it.
"So I'm sorry, Susan, but Mommy will have to spank you now," I declared.
Was that true? Did I HAVE to spank her? At the time, it felt like the best available option.
I took her over my lap. She was contrite. She started to cry when I bared her bottom, but I didn't really care. I smacked her bottom three or four times, hard enough to produce a satisfying smack, then I stood her down.
"And never do that again!" I said, which was a bit lame as an ending. She cried freely and I hugged her. Maybe, I thought, a spanking is needed when the child should cry but won't? When she's too proud for that, or too ashamed?
Susan kept close to me for the rest of the day. Quite different from my own experience -- my own spankings were usually ended by me staying in the corner or in my room, and I definitely avoided Father for some time after that. He was never comforting. He probably thought it was a sign of weakness.
I told Frank that evening what happened and what I did. I felt weird. On one side, proud that I kept my promise to Susan. Proud that I COULD spank her when warranted.
On the other side, I felt like I betrayed my parental instinct. Like I betrayed Frank.
I took the paddle down myself and brought it to him.
He never spanked me when I didn't want it... but I wanted him to spank me. I wanted to feel what Susan felt.
I felt much more, of course, and the paddle did a number on my bottom. I cried a lot, that hadn't happened for a long time.
It wasn't a punishment, not exactly, more like... a contract. I believed that Susan needed that spanking, even if I had to suffer it as well.
After Frank was done, we cuddled. But nothing more. Not that night.
But we did more soon and that's how I got pregnant again.
I left the kindergarten for another maternity leave at the end of June. Susan still had to spend another year there.
She was probably glad that I wasn't working there anymore, but she seemed a bit grumpy regardless.
There were no more spankings that year, though there were some reminders. When Susan was naughty, I sometimes just lightly slapped my own wrist, and she got the message.
I was not the bear behind, I told myself. I was not scary.
About time Carrie was born, I got the message about Father's illness.
Next year was juggling caring for Susan, Carrie and Father. He was fading fast and he knew it. I visited him in the hospital often, bringing the girls with me.
I never told him the truth, you know. I never told him how bad father he really was, how I despised him and how my life now is nothing, nothing like he envisioned for me.
I despised him, but I still couldn't hate him enough to hurt him like that.
When he died, he still believed he was the best father in the world. He was the cute little deer who never looked back and never saw the bear behind, the nasty, evil bear who destroyed everything about him.
Maybe the hateful God he worshipped finally turned against him and killed him too.
Not long after that, Susan earned her second spanking. She took a piece of candy from shop, and she did it slyly enough to make clear that she KNEW it was wrong. I told her, in no uncertain terms, that this is a spanking offense. After I made her apologize to the shop owner, we started towards home, me, Susan and baby carriage with Carrie. Susan was crestfallen.
"Please, don't be mad at me, Mommy!" she pleaded.
She didn't try to talk me out of spanking her, she just didn't want me to be mad. I told her that I'm not mad (not entirely true), and held her hand.
When we came home, I told Susan to wait in the living room while I put Carrie to bed. When I came back, I found her sitting on the sofa, crying.
It was breaking my heart to spank her, but I had to keep my word. While she was sobbing, I took her panties down, turned her over my lap and spanked her. This time, it was significantly longer and harder spanking than the first one, and she was crying throughout it.
In the evening, when Frank came back, I made Susan tell him what happened and how she was punished. Having her say "Mommy spanked me" seemed to be an extra punishment to her as she was stuttering and blushing before she finally got the words out.
So, of course, that evening after the children were asleep, I got the paddle used on me. I told Frank I had spanked Susan hard and asked him to do the same to me.
He was happy to oblige.
When I was helping Susan dress in the morning, I noted that there were no marks on her bottom.
I was not so lucky.
When Carrie grew up a little, I started a new job as a teaching assistant in primary school. This time, I chose a different school than the one Susan started to attend. I spent most of the day away from my girls, but we all met at home in the evening. We were happy.
There WERE spankings, I must say. Very few and very sparse, with Carrie, surprisingly, earning most of them. She was always ready to test the limits of our patience.
And the rule Frank set was still in effect -- a hot bottom for one of my girls meant a hot bottom for me. Even then, it was sometimes necessary. I thought so.
When Susan was in fourth grade, she asked me about our paddle.
"For the Cute Little Dear with Bear Behind? What does that mean?"
I smiled and explained the pun to her. She seemed thoughtful.
"Are you going to spank me with that paddle, Mommy?" she asked.
No, I said, the paddle is there only as a reminder.
"Reminder of what?"
"Of the bear," I said. "Each of us has the Bear Behind. It's called 'Guilt'. It's all the things we did or said -- or didn't do or didn't say -- that we are sorry for. The Deer doesn't want to turn his head and see the Bear because it's afraid the Bear would eat it. But sometimes, you have to face the Bear... and sometimes, the paddle helps you make amends so the Bear goes away."
"Were YOU spanked with the paddle?" asked Susan.
"Um, yeees," I said nervously. I hoped she wouldn't ask about WHO used it on me, but fortunately, she didn't. She assumed it was Father.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"Yes," I said. "I'm always... I mean, I was always crying really, really hard, and my 'bare behind' was pretty red."
"My behind gets red too when you spank me," she said.
"Not THIS red, trust me," I laughed. I was hoping she'd change the subject. If this went any further, I'd either have to lie or to tell the truth, and I wasn't sure what was worse.
Apparently, Susan took more from the conversation than I intended to. About a week after that, Carrie ran to the living room without her panties on and crying. She told me Susan spanked her, and so I had to get up and investigate.
Susan told me, with serious face, that Carrie drawn over her homework with crayons and she had to punish her.
I wasn't sure whether to laugh or be mad. I told Carrie that she can't do that, I told Susan she doesn't have an authority to punish her sister, with spanking or otherwise, but I refrained from further punishment. It was just a bit too weird.
And about two months after THAT, I entered the girls' room with the laundry to find Susan on the bed, panties down, and Carrie brushing her bottom with the hairbrush.
I wanted to just back away from the door, but it was too late -- they saw me and they looked scared. They thought they were in trouble, and honestly, I didn't know whether they should be or not. I asked them about it and Susan claimed that she has a friend at school who gets hairbrush on her bottom. She was curious about it, but she still didn't understand how that punishment worked.
"Um," I said, "that means she's SPANKED -- by the FLAT side of the hairbrush, you know. It's not really a... a brushing."
I took the hairbrush and smacked it hard on my own thigh. "Like this."
There was a definite look of interest in my girls' eyes. Did I go wrong anywhere? Would spanking them more rob the spankings of their mystery and magic? Would spanking them less, or not at all, make them ignorant of the spanking? Would they be interested regardless?
And if they ARE more interested in spankings than other children of their age, is that even a bad thing? I supposed Frank knew that feeling, he was never really spanked, but was always fascinated.
I talked to Frank in the evening.
"We're both spankos, it makes sense our children are interested as well," he said. "I mean, when I was playing doctor with girls from neighbourhood, I tried to smack their bare bottoms too. It went well... mostly," he added, thoughtful.
"Do you think we should change our spanking policy?" I asked him.
"Regarding them... or regarding you?"
"I'm happy with the one regarding ME, thank you," I said. "But maybe..."
"Well, how should it change? Should we spank them more? Less?"
I had to admit I didn't know.
And the girls were growing up. And they were still spanked, though still rarely. And *I* was still spanked, with mutually agreeable frequency.
And the paddle was still hanging in our living room, with the cute little deer determinedly not looking at the bear behind.
There was a time when Carrie sneaked out of the house to meet with her friends and we were worried she was kidnapped.
There was a time when Susan fell in with a bad crowd and shoplifted a lipstick. She wasn't caught, but she eventually came to me and told me.
There was a time when Carrie broke a window and lied about it.
There was a time when Carrie secretly took Frank's cellphone and changed his ringtone to a fart sound as a prank.
There was a time when Susan kicked a girl she didn't like during a soccer match.
All these ended with one of the rare "spankings from Mommy" and one with not-so-rare "spankings for Mommy" (though with that fart prank, I had to insist on that).
And they were never reluctant going over my lap, even though my hand always made them pretty uncomfortable.
The day after one spanking, when Susan was twelve, I heard the unmistakable smacking sounds from her room while she had her friends over. When I asked her about that, she told me that they played. I could guess WHAT they played, and frankly, they were either too old or maybe too young for such things, but when I tried to talk her out of it, she pointed to the family paddle.
"I was not asleep yesterday," she said. "I know about you, Daddy, and the paddle."
There was no good reply to that. I told her a little bit about me, about my desires, and about the agreement I had with Frank. She was a bit surprised that each of her spankings ends with a spanking for me, but not OVERLY surprised. Perhaps yesterday wasn't the first night she wasn't asleep after a spanking.
"You know," she said, thoughtfully, "I sometimes think about how it would feel if some cute boy from class spanked me. Or the teacher."
I just asked her to not talk about these things with people she doesn't trust. What could I say?
The next day, I asked Frank to talk to Susan about it. Thanks to progressive education (and the Internet), she already had The Talk about sex, but it was probably best to give her one about spankings as well.
There were some things left unsaid, for example why exactly Frank never spanked the girls himself, but it went fairly well.
Except for the fact that Susan almost immediately gave the same talk, albeit garbled, to Carrie who, in my opinion, was too young to understand. On the next PTA meeting at her school, some of the parents gave me weird looks, so I guess she must have let slipped that her Mommy is still spanked.
When Susan was sixteen and came home after her first "wild party", I was sitting in the living room, waiting for her.
"I messed up," she said.
Yes, she did. Breaking curfew, not being in contact, drinking. Classical trifecta, maybe smoking as well, though her clothes could simply soak in the cigarette smoke from other people.
And the next day she stayed in bed to get out of the hangover.
I considered the hangover punishment enough. I never did that, but that was because Father would never let me go to such event in the first place. And I thought that place of punishment is to help the children see when they go too far. Susan didn't need that -- she could clearly see that on her own.
But she surprised me. When I came home in the evening, she was in the living room and had the family paddle. She handed it to me.
I raised my eyebrows.
"I haven't spanked you in three years."
"Trust me," she said, "I need it."
Carrie, twelve years old at that time, came to the living room as well. "She really needs it, Mom," she said. "She told me."
"All right, then," I said. "But we're going to make this a family moment."
And so, when Frank came home, he found Susan sitting on the sofa with the paddle, flanked by me and Carrie. Susan got up and told him how sorry she was and that she needs a spanking, and she also added that since it was not my idea, there is no need to punish me.
Frank just sighed and nodded. He sat down on a chair and Carrie sat next to him, leaving the contrite Susan and me to do what had to be done.
Maybe I should have used the paddle on Susan before since all the composure she had while she bared her own bottom and went across my lap was gone the instant the paddle first landed on her bottom.
Then it was all crying and sobbing, though she never asked me to stop.
The next day, she told me that she can still feel the paddle. "You got this EVERY TIME?" she said. "Mom, I had no idea! I'm so sorry to make you go through that!"
I smiled. "Sometimes, the Bear Behind can be nasty."
And then we were hugging for a long time.
And so the girls grew up. Susan met a guy, moved out and got married -- in that order -- and she mentioned to me that she is getting spanked now, probably much more than when she was growing up. I was happy for her.
As for Carrie, well, she never said this way or that. We never had a separate Spanking Talk with her, but Susan told me, in secret, that she enjoys an occasional spanking as well, though "from the other side, if you know what I mean".
Years were passing. I was a grandmother now. But the paddle still hung in our living room. Frank was still strong enough to spank me when needed and I loved him for that.
The grandchildren visited often, but I never spanked any of them. That was the job of their parents, if they decided so, and from what they told me, they used spankings the same way as me -- as a spare, last-resort thing.
Every parent, I think, has a bear behind -- the overbearing fear that they raised their children wrong. If I did this, they think, if I didn't do that, would it be better? Would it give them more joy, spare them of more sorrow?
As a grandmother, I realized it was rubbish. The children have but one childhood and mistakes will be made. The important thing is to get over the mistakes and to try to correct them.
When I saw Carrie scold her own daughter and point the family paddle to me (even though Carrie herself has never felt it), I had to smile.
***
I loved Frank all my life, despite the hurdles that noone can avoid. Despite the spankings. Because of the spankings.
But there was one thing I couldn't forgive him for. For leaving first.
There is always someone in the house these days. Susan, Carrie, their husbands, the grandchildren, they don't want to leave the matriarch of the family alone.
But of course they cannot replace Frank. Noone can.
Recently, I asked them to put the paddle down. Now I have it next to me when I sit on the sofa, where I gave -- and received -- so many spankings.
They probably think it's just a whim of an old woman, but I have a plan.
There is not much time left for me, either, I know it. But having the paddle helps.
I am not religious. Haven't been for a long time.
But still, there's the possibility...
That I'm going to meet him.
The God Father worshipped.
The monster that made him into a monster. The monster that killed him. The monster that took Frank from me.
And on that day, he is going to meet my Bear Behind.
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