It Sure is Fun! 4

By Crimson Kid

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.

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This is a letter from one girl to the magazine "Girlish Giggles and Grins", then a response by a psychologist. Set in the Puericil Universe.

"IT SURE IS FUN! LETTER #4" by the Crimson Kid

From the November issue of "Girlish Giggles and Grins":

"IT SURE IS FUN!" #4

Salutations from Cherry Twin Hills, my home town, Doctor McMichael, I haven't written to you before but you still may recognize my name: I'm Joanne, older sister of Candy, whose letter has just been printed in the "It Sure Is Fun!" column within the current issue of "Girlish Giggles and Grins," and also younger stepsister of Percival (whom we girls call "Percy"), whose two complaining letters have already been published, and responded to by you (as guest editor), in an advice column within a popular magazine for teenage males.

First of all, let me inform you that I'm a big fan of your writing, since I've read both GOOD GIRLS, BAD BOYS AND PADDLING MOMS, which you wrote individually, and THE COMPLEAT SPANKMISTRESS, written by your sister (Doctor Pamela McMichael) and yourself in collaboration. Your ideas about controlling the "overweaning male ego," as you called it, primarily by feminine-administered domestic discipline (corporal punishment) rather than relying too much on drugs, notably Puericil, seem to be "spot on" (one of my mother's English expressions) to me.

When Mom and my stepfather were discussing her plan to start my brand-spanking-new stepbrother on Puericil, "to control his arrogant attitude," as she put it, I supported Percy's argument that he needed to retain his sports-related aggressiveness, which a full dosage of the drug would reduce a great deal. Since I was able to show our parents a couple of articles in medical journals about the negative effects of too much Puericil--even the type which has no physical effect outside of the loss of bodily hair--on athletic success, due to the psychological changes it causes, my mother was willing to compromise somewhat, so that Percy only receives one-third of the "recommended daily dose" of Puericil. (Personally, I'm proud of my stepbrother being on our high school's football, wrestling and tennis teams, even though I'm hardly all that athletic myself--except for ping-pong, which I'm good at.)

While I did think that Percy was a touch on the conceited and self-centered side, he didn't ever strike me as being one of those stuck-up male chauvinist jerks. It was his "Mediterranean good looks" (to use another maternal term) and his success at athletics (especially football, the #1 sport at our school) that indirectly caused him to act in such a "condescending manner," to use another of my mother's expressions, toward Candy and me after our households had been merged into a "blended family," as the articles I've read would describe it. Since my stepbrother got quite a bit of flirting attention, and still does, from a number of his feminine schoolmates, some sort of a counterweight (psychologically speaking) was, and still is, necessary to balance off all that ego-stroking from his academic and athletic life.

However, I certainly didn't want the counterbalance to be a full dosage of Puericil, even though the type he takes (only a one-third dose) has no physical effect except for the loss of bodily hair. (According to Percy, the small dosage he receives has had only a marginal effect in that area.) Boys who take the "recommended daily amount" of that variation of the drug gradually lose their independent spirit and sense of self-worth, becoming passive and weak-willed--it clearly eliminates overly aggressive behavior on their parts and makes them compliant to authority, but the effect goes too far in inhibiting their individuality. (I'm basing this opinion on my observations of male classmates, friends and relatives over the past half-dozen years.)

The type of Puericil which causes boys to become physically immature is much worse, I believe. Even though I'm a relatively small person myself (5'2" tall, 105 pounds at sixteen years of age), that's due to my heredity (my father was only 5'5" in height) and therefore is natural, besides which it's not very much of an issue for a female. However, guys my own age being no taller than me, plus so lacking in normal bodily development that they look like fifth graders, I consider that to be a form of deliberate medical malpractice carried out by our society. When I see these poor boys being picked on in the hallways at school, not only by regular-sized guys but also by some of the larger girls, it really upsets me, yet they're usually too intimidated to even complain to anyone in authority. (While I lack the physical size to do much about it myself, I encourage Percy and even Candy to take action against that kind of bullying whenever they're able to.)

In stating this point of view to you, Doctor McMichael, I know that I'm pretty much "preaching to the choir" (yes, that's a maternal expression too) because you basically believe the same thing, which is obvious to anyone who has read GOOD GIRLS, BAD BOYS AND PADDLING MOMS, which I consider to be the child-rearing, domestic discipline handbook of the "Conservative Resurgence." You discussed in detail well over a dozen cases in which male teenagers who exhibited antisocial and mysogynistic (anti-feminine) behavior patterns, along with almost no self-discipline, were reformed through being subjected to regular, very sound and extensive corporal correction administered by their loving womenfolk--primarily mothers and stepmothers (hence the book's title), but also aunts, sisters (including stepsisters), other feminine relatives (such as cousins) female babysitters and occasionally even girlfriends.

"Masculine posteriors have been designed by the Sacred Feminine, however a person interprets the term, to be embarrassing bared and then thoroughly spanked, paddled, strapped, switched, whipped and caned by their caring womenfolk, preferably with other females watching, assisting or even directly sharing those disciplinary duties, on a highly consistent basis. While I'm convinced that this describes the proper treatment of any male within double digits (10-99) in age, in this in-depth analysis I will be focusing specifically on the effective behavior modification of teenage males by feminine chastisers."

That's from your introduction to the book, and I'm sure that you already realize, from Percy's two letters and the one from Candy, how completely my mother has instituted your philosophy within our household. Even though my stepbrother was seventeen years old when he first was subjected to being spanked bare-bottom by Mom, with us two girls "assisting" her, she repeatedly replied to his whining, childish objections, "It's never too late for a naughty boy to get his naked fanny seriously tanned by a strict woman." Boy oh boy, as you know, he truly did, and indeed still does, get it walloped to a red-hot fare-thee-well by her, and later on by us stepsisters as well, on a regular basis.

One thing my mother has insisted upon is that knowledge of her stepson's "strict spanking regimen," as she calls it, be limited to close friends of hers and ours (Candy's and mine), namely those who've visited our house and seen "Percival's Behavior Chart" hanging in the kitchen, flanked by the two punitive implements--the sturdy Jokari paddle with the holes in its striking surface and the short black leather strap--which are applied weekly to Percy's naked buttcheeks by Candy and myself. Those guests have been sworn to secrecy on that subject, although they may of course discuss our family's domestic discipline arrangement with other females who are already aware of it, my sister and myself obviously included. (He does occasionally get gently teased by some of them during school, but they have to be extremely careful to avoid being overheard by other students--usually they'll merely flash him a knowing grin or wink impishly with their hidden knowledge, especially on Mondays and Fridays.)

The single frustration I had experienced in my role as my stepbrother's disciplinarian had been convincing my close girlfriends, those who had visited our house and learned about our family's disciplinary situation, that I was able to make my six-feet-tall, 180-pound and strongly athletic stepbrother bawl like a baby while I was reddening his bare bottom over my knee. Some of them didn't even believe that I could support his body across my thighs without "the punishment hurting you more than it does him, Jo," although (as you've repeatedly pointed out in your writing, Doctor McMichael) it simply requires the proper, evenly-balanced positioning for a small female to hold a much larger male bent over her lap to be spanked in complete comfort--for her anyway, though obviously not for him.

My friends had no trouble accepting the idea that my "Earth goddess" mother, a regular tennis player and jogger whose height matches that of Percy while she's only fifteen pounds lighter, easily reduces the boy to gushing tears and "hurtin'-for-certain" howls every time she lambastes his exposed posterior with her Jokari paddle or short leather strap. Most of them also believed that Candy, who's four inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than me, not to mention an athlete herself, is able to eventually make our stepbrother cry childishly via vigorous application of Mom's paddle or the "Vermont Country Store" oaken bath brush to his naked fanny, which is an accurate assessment of her proficiency as a spankmistress.

Both of them, my mother and sister, vouched to my girlfriends about my ability to make Percy "weep and wail like a naughty toddler boy," in Mom's precise words, while strapping him bare-bottom-up across my lap, but still my friends remained skeptical--they clearly suspected that feminine family solidarity was the basis for those endorsements of my spanking ability. They were free to question the recipient of those lickings from me himself, with the boy required to reply politely to their inquiries, but his responses were brief and grudging, making them seem forced and therefore possibly inaccurate. ("Uhhhh, well, sure she makes me cry, whatever Joanne says," that didn't prove to be highly convincing.)

So what could I do? Clearly, I simply required a peer-group outsider to witness me blistering my stepbrother's bare behind, thus making his teardrops flow freely while he "howled like a banshee," to use an old-style expression employed in our family for describing boyish reactions to being corporally corrected. Both Candy and I had occassionally had girlfriends stay over at our house on a Friday night, hoping that Mom would allow them to observe Percy being chastised through the official "retirement" of that week's "behavior chart," but in each case she had insisted that the girl leave our house before the punitive proceedings got underway. ("This is purely a family procedure at this time," she would explain, leaving open the possibilty of outside girlish witnesses in the future.)

Maisie McIntyre ended up solving my problem once I'd invited her to sleep over on this past Friday night. She's a perky-looking girl from my class (sixteen like myself) with a round, cute face, fairly short, curly chestnut hair and a "pleasingly plump" figure. She's only a couple of inches taller than me, which is a characteristic I appreciate, but we had only been casual friends until that point. However, she has a sarcastic, witty sense of humor which makes her seem quite mature to adults, plus she's my stepbrother's second cousin--her mother is his father's first cousin--meaning that she could be considered a "family member" of his in a broad sense.

Still, she'd never before visited at our house, so she was more than a touch surprised to view "Percival's behavior chart" hanging openly on the kitchen wall, flanked by the black leather strap and my mother's varnished Jokari paddle, with the small holes in its striking surface and that revealing inscription--"MITCHIE'S PUNISHMENT PADDLE FOR PERCIVAL'S BARE BEHIND"--imprinted on the other side of its flat, oval-shaped blade. Maisie was also amused by our family disciplinary situation, which she immediately surmised. Her eyes were twinkling as she teased my stepbrother while we all consumed pizza and pepsi-cola for supper, yet she was playfully gentle in doing so; it wasn't difficult to realize that my newest girlfriend found Percy to be highly attractive, and I could hardly blame her for feeling so.

"So Aunt Mitchie really lambastes your naked fanny when you need it, huh Perce? You know, I get my mom's college sorority paddle cracked across my bare buns when I get myself into trouble at home, so I can certainly empathize with you there." (I'd suggested to Maisie that she address Mom as "Aunt Mitchie," even though they were hardly related to one another, in order to reinforce the idea that there was a family relationship involved, and they both seemed to like the idea. Her calling my stepbrother "Perce," the nickname he preferred, was another indication of Maisie's attraction to him.)

He blushed appealingly as he replied with the required precision. "Thank you, Maisie, actually I get spanked by Joanne and Candy too, on Saturday mornings to retire my weekly behavior chart." By the way that our visitor inhaled sharply in reaction to that statement, it was obvious to me that she'd immediately grasped the possibility of her witnessing my stepbrother's sisterly punishments the next morning. She flashed a suspicious sidelong glance at me, obviously having figured out why I'd invited her to stay overnight. However, she didn't seem offended at the idea, cheerfully chattering away while avoiding any questions or commentary which might seriously embarrass Percy--it was easy to tell that the girl was "sweet on him," to use another of my mother's old-style expressions.

"I'm supposed to watch Perce getting his bare buns walloped by you tomorrow, Jo, isn't that your plan?" Maisie asked me, yet in a matter-of-fact manner, once we were preparing for bed in my room. "That explains this sudden invitation to spend tonight with you, when we really haven't been that close before today." Caught out by her rationality, I admitted my basic plan to my brand-spanking-new, full-fledged girlfriend, much to her ironic amusement. "I'll be glad to help you out, Jo, you've always been nice to me even though our friendship has only been casual up until now." She smiled slyly. "I'm expecting that you'll have him bawling like a baby over your knee, I can hardly doubt that happening."

"Most of my friends who've visited here don't believe that I can truly make Percy cry," I retorted, feeling a bit annoyed.

Maisie shrugged. "If his posterior is exposed and sticking up starkly, so that you have open access to his tender undercheeks while you're swinging away full force with that devilish leather strap, you should have no trouble producing plenty of waterworks from our naughty boy, regardless of his size and strength. I know that much from my own experience in being paddled bare-ass by my mother, there's just no way to avoid shedding all sorts of tears."

I nodded in agreement. "True, but I still want you to witness Percy howling and blubbering across my lap, so you can tell my other close friends that you saw it personally."

I'm happy to report, Doctor McMichael, that it worked out precisely that way, although my stepbrother almost ruined the whole plan after Mom had agreed to Maisie staying to watch his "behavior chart retirement" chastisement the following morning.

"It's about time to introduce a few outside observers, and Maisie's actually an extended family member of Percy's, so she's an ideal choice to be the first," my mother stated calmly at 10:25 a.m. on Saturday. The boy predictably blustered and then whined upon hearing that announcement, protesting so petulantly that Mom was about to add "Disrespect to mother," an eighteen-demerit offense, to his behavior chart. However, any infraction worth ten or more demerits results in immediate corporal correction of him by his "primary disciplinarian" (stepmother), which on a Saturday morning before 10:30 means that his "chart retirement" spanking session is postponed to that evening. (Such a situation had occurred once, several weeks earlier, much to my stepbrother's red-bottomed regret.) In that case, Maise would only end up witnessing his walloping by Mom, not by Candy and more critically myself.

Then my sharp-witted, brand-spanking-new girlfriend saved the day by suggesting that it was natural for Percy to have reacted with shock to the sudden change in our "punitive paradigm," as she called it, so he should instead be assigned the appropriate demerits for two lesser violations--"Acting argumentive" (four) and "Being disagreeable" (three), which wouldn't require him to be spanked separately by her "Aunt Mitchie." Fortunately my mother agreed to that proposal, which did result in our futile protester's total demerits increasing from forty-five to fifty-two. Since each demerit had to be "retired" by three strap-strokes (from me) and two paddleswats (from Candy), his total chastisements were thereby increased by twenty-one licks with the strap and fourteen whacks with the paddle.

Maisie chuckled at that outcome. "Ouchie! I'll bet those extra stingers are really going to hurt," she said playfully, yet she refrained from any further taunting of the blushing boy on that subject.

I won't go into the full details of the pre-spanking ritual since my sister has already described them in her published letter, but I will note that Percy's being required to report to our bedroom with the two instruments of correction to be delivered to us chastisers, request that his shorts be lowered--he was wearing his standard "punishment outfit" of gym shorts, white socks, t-shirt and athletic supporter--to bare his behind, then be taken downstairs in order to be disciplined by us stepsisters of his in the living room, all of that humbling ceremony impressed Maisie quite a lot. One very recent addition to his overall circumstances is that he now has his muscular yet slightly plump posterior shaved closely by Mom three times a week, leaving it "smooth as a baby's bottom" and even more vulnerable to being hurtfully blistered--I could tell that our outside observer found that sight sexually appealing, as I did myself.

After I'd pulled Percy's heather gray shorts all the way down to his ankles and given his exposed moons a full dozen brisk slaps with my palm, he was marched down the stairs--slowly, due to him having to waddle to avoid tripping--while Candy steadily smacked his rear end with medium-hard swings of "Mitchie's Spanking Paddle," so that his "south side" (a local slang term for the human derriere) was rosy-cheeked and nicely warmed up by the time he finally reached the living room, where his stepmother was waiting with the bottle of baby oil in her hand.

Less than a minute after our arrival there, I was seated on the padded ottoman stool while my darling stepbrother found himself bent over and lying across my welcoming thighs, his upturned bare buns being coated with the slick oil as my younger sister rubbed it onto his smooth, bright pink skin. Once my "assistants" were kneeling in position, Mom gripping her stepson's elbows while she smiled into his flushed face and Candy holding his ankles down while staring at his glistening buttcheeks, I casually flicked the fiendishly flexible strap against them, making my victim shiver.

"My, you seem especially anxious this morning, sweetie pie," I told him cheerfully. "Is having your pretty cousin for an audience causing you any extra embarrassment at your chubby cheekies being so blatantly exposed, dear brother?"

He gulped before responding. "Maybe just a touch."

Pressing my left hand against his lower back while raising the sbort leather strap in my right one, I chortled at his predictable masculine reaction. "Well, don't worry about that, my misbehaving child--I'm going to focus all of your attention on the state of your naked fanny, to the tune of one hundred and fifty-six very convincing licks, starting right now!"

Then I did precisely that, administering to poor Percy the most emphatic over-the-knee leathering which I'd ever given him during my limited stint as one of his spankmistresses--boy, did I ever crack that pliable black strap across his helpless hiney! As usual, I concentrated the searing strokes of the leather against his underbuns, "the bottom of his bare bottom" (still another maternal expression), and I had no trouble at all making him squirm, squeal, sob and eventually "weep and wail" quite shamelessly. I'm not much of an athlete (unless table tennis counts as a sport), but I've heard the expression "getting into a zone," which means functioning at an extremely high level, used by athletic competitors--including my family members--and that's clearly what happened to me while I was "whuppin" my stepbrother's reddening rear end so effectively.

Once my sister had counted out "One hundred thirty-five!", I paused momentarily, then ruffled his sweat-soaked black hair with my left hand while he struggled to stop gasping and whimpering.

"You'd be done with this part of your punishment, Percy dear, if you hadn't protested Mom's decision to let your cute cousin watch your bare bottom get blistered this morning." I teasingly tapped those quivering, dark magenta buttcheeks of his with the flexible punitive implement, making him shudder. "However, because you chose to be immature and exercise no self-restraint, you have another twenty-one strapping lashes coming to this fiery fanny from yours truly, don't you?"

He sobbed pitifully before answering me. "Yes, ma'am, I certainly do."

I returned my left hand to his back and lifted up the strap to strike. "Then I'll finish you up now, with your ass-thrashing from me anyway, and you can rest assured that these will be the hardest strap-strokes I've ever delivered across your plump impertinent rump--here they come!" Well, Doctor McMichael, I was true to my word, making certain that every one of those last leathering licks exploded right across his sensitive "sit spots" with extreme prejudice. Boy oh boy, did Percy ever end up crying like a little girl, while the wide-eyed, ultra-impressed look on Maisie's face was such a pleasure to view. I knew exactly what she would be telling my close friends at school on Monday, much to my satisfaction.

However, while her second cousin was standing in the corner, his nose pressed against the walls' juncture and his deeply glowing glutes on humbling display while he sniffled with his hands clasped together behind him, Maisie complimented him on his "courage and self-control" in holding his basic position with only mild restraint being supplied by my mother and sister. "If I'd gotten my totally exposed asscheeks strapped that long and hard, I'd have been flailing around like a wild woman. You were truly brave, Perce honey, in taking the licking that you had coming. Do you appreciate Joanne's willingness to discipline you so severely for your own good?"

That was a direct question, so the boy was required to reply with respect. "Yes, ma'am, I really do, I know how much she cares for me." Maisie flashed me a knowing smile, both of us recognizing the sincerity in his voice in spite of how emphatically I'd just walloped his naked hiney.

From my personal point of view, the remainder of Percy's chastisement was a touch anticlimatic (still I did much enjoy baby-oiling his shining seat, immediately before Candy took the Jokari paddle to it with great enthusiasm), although from his perspective it undoubtedly wasn't--if anything, he seemed even more embarrassed at being reduced to shrill howls and freely-flowing tears in front of his smiling cousin by his more youthful stepsister, even though she's physically my superior. After his second stint in the corner, with his bare derriere radiating a burnished maroon glow at that point, he received his first post-punishment hugs and kisses (on his salty-tasting, crimson facial cheeks) from Maisie, who again praised him for being couragous in enduring his "big-time spanking session."

That evening, as I was massaging aloe cream onto the skin of his ravaged rump (something I now do almost every night, in order to keep it highly sensitive to being spanked), my stepbrother asked me a surprisingly perceptive question between his contented sighs. "So now Maisie can be counted on to tell your close friends how you made me carry on so childishly while blistering my behind, can't she?"

"Did she tell you that?" I asked him.

Percy shrugged. "She confirmed it, but I'd already figured it out. She's not one of your true girlfriends, but everybody knows how truthful she is--plus she's my second cousin, so Mom probably wouldn't object to her watching my bare butt getting blistered by Candy and you, I'm guessing that was your thinking."

Laughing, I gave his sore nether moons six smart smacks with my palm, which made him wriggle under my beautiful bumcheeks as I was straddling his waist and facing his feet, while I'd been ministering to his precious rear. "You can be too smart for your own good, honeybun," I said with affection.

Doctor McMichael, I'm going to follow the advice which you offered me in your response to Candy's letter, so I'll be enjoying my closeness with my stepbrother--which includes my disciplinary duties, of course--in a sisterly fashion only, at least until I reach full adulthood. I won't deny being romantically and sexually attracted to him, I can't avoid those feelings, but I'll do my best to keep my emotions under firm control in that area.

In closing, let me give you credit for the concept of keeping a teenage boy's buns shaved smoothly, which you suggested in GOOD GIRLS, BAD BOYS AND PADDLING MOMS--it does appear to make his corporal correction sting him where it counts even more than otherwise, plus my enjoyment from rubbing both baby oil and aloe cream, "before and after," on his bare bottom has increased.

Thanks to your guidance, Doctor McMichael, it's totally true now, that being my stepbrother's strict, sisterly spankmistress--"It Sure Is Fun!"

Yours in spanking sisterhood,
Joanne

P.S.: My mother suggested that I inform you that I now have plenty of "spank cred" (belief in my ability to bring Percy to blubbering tears by strapping his naked fanny) among my close friends, thanks to Maisie telling them about what she witnessed, although her account makes his enduring of the "whuppin" as impressive as my administering of it. Also, now that Maisie has "broken the ice" in witnessing my beloved stepbrother being walloped, Mom has agreed that other feminine outsiders--Candy's and my girlfriends, and especially hers too--will be allowed to watch Percy's bare-bottomed chastisements in our home.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!

[Doctor McMichael's Response:

This letter has impressed me greatly, Joanne, not to mention flattering me quite a bit as well. I always enjoy corresponding with a serious fan of my work, especially one who (while at the tender age of sixteen) understands it with such clear insight.

My book GOOD GIRLS, BAD BOYS AND PADDLING MOMS was indeed intended by me to be (as you so clearly expressed it) "the child-rearing, domestic discipline handbook of the 'Conservative Resurgence'," so I'm gratified that a highly aware young lady such as yourself actually finds it to be exactly that. Your family, under your mother's leadership, is succeeding in implementing the basics of my approach to the feminine control of potentially negative masculine behaviors.

I'm in full agreement with you on the issue concerning overuse of drugs such as Puericil, which can be useful when employed in relatively small dosages but also can have long-term destructive side effects for the males it is administered to, if there is a lack of rational restriction in its usage. I'm appalled at the number of significantly undersized, passive, emotionally emasculated teenage boys that I come across in areas where the 'Conservative Resurgence' has relied too much on biochemistry, and not nearly enough on strict corporal correction from their concerned womenfolk, in order to modify the behavior of overly aggressive males.

It was quite clever of you, managing to have Maisie approved as the first feminine outsider to witness Percival's 'behavior chart retirement' spankings from both Candy and notably yourself, and I hope that she will continue to be a frequent observer of his bare-bottom blisterings (that's an expression which I simply adore for describing a male's domestic discipline from female family members), plus a member of your circle of close girlfriends. She seems to understand the importance of your stepbrother accepting and even eventually emracing his role as a regular recipient of very sound chastisement within your household, hence her praising of him for undergoing it as though it was a conscious choice on his part--although it clearly isn't yet, hopefully it someday will indeed be one.

I'm gratified that you've decided the accept my advice (offered in my response to Candy's letter in the previous issue of this magazine) about keeping your relationship with Percival platonic and sisterly, albeit sweetly affectionate, at least until you reach complete adult age. In terms of both biology (genetics) and morality, I foresee no problems with you two pursuing a romantic and sexual relationship at that point, but right now there would be justified societal concerns over it. (By the way, should your stepbrother stop 'playing the field' and end up with a steady girlfriend, it will be the responsibility of the females in his family to train that lucky young lady in corporally punishing the boy within their romantic relationship--in other words, she would also need to be "whuppin" (there's another term which I'm fond of) his naked buttocks regularly, along with your mother, sister and yourself.

Well, that's all I have to say at the moment, so I'll simply reiterate that, as Percival's primary womenfolk, all three of you female step-relatives are doing a fantastic job of keeping the boy firmly under family control, yet without inhibiting his individuality or damaging his self-image. As you lovely ladies (I'll include Maisie here as well) obviously understand, Mother Nature has designed masculine posteriors to endure intensive, protracted corporal correction from the feminine counterparts of those severely chastised 'boys' (of any age from 10-99)--therefore any male's gushing teardrops, his glowing, burnished maroon derriere and his penitent sobbing are highly positive, desired outcomes, ones which demonstrate our resolve and effectiveness as society's dedicated spankmistresses.

I'm know you'll help keep your stepbrother regularly red-bottomed and bawling, Joanne--happy strapping!

Yours in spanking sisterhood,
Almeda McMichael

P.S.: My first fictional book, one describing an idealized, feminine-led family under the 'Conservative Resurgence,' will be released in print next month, then I'm going to send you a signed copy of BOYISH BARE BOTTOMS BEING BLISTERED. So be looking for it in the mail, I think you'll enjoy the short novel, plus you can share it with other interested female parties.

(The End)