My spanking obsession began shortly after the Stanley family moved-in next door. I was a freshman in high school and Beth Stanley was a senior. Beth was pretty and shapely - perfect fodder for the imagination of a teenage boy. Her room was directly across the narrow side yard from mine but she typically kept the shade pulled and I seldom saw her in her room. The lack of actual sightings did not hamper my fantasies, conjuring images of her naked while toweling off after her morning shower, or getting ready for bed in the evening or even pleasuring herself under the covers at night.

One fall evening, maybe a month after the Stanley’s arrived, I returned to my room after dinner to do my homework. The days were getting shorter and the room was dark. I was just about to turn on the light when I noticed Beth’s room was brightly lit and the shade was open. She was sitting on her bed with a look that I interpreted as nervous. She was fidgeting as she seemed to wait. After a short time, her mom entered the room, carrying a hairbrush. She was clearly upset and scolding Beth as she gestured with the brush. I realized this was the prelude to a spanking and prayed that the shade would remain open. My physical reaction was immediate and I quietly turned the lock on my door to avoid being interrupted.

The windows were slightly open so I heard the tone of Mrs Stanley’s reprimands but not the actual words. Then I heard Beth wail, “No. Please?” Mrs Stanley was resolute and Beth quickly stood with her back to me. Mrs Stanley sat on the bed where her daughter had been seated and uttered another indistinct admonishment. Beth began to undo her jeans and then pushed them down. Her panties followed and then she draped herself over her mother’s knee. I had perhaps the best seat available for witnessing a spanking, watching Beth’s pale cheeks slowing turning color under the whacks of the brush and a direct view of her sex as she wriggled and kicked as the swat count and the heat in her bottom rose. Eventually, Mrs Stanley was satisfied with the results and let Beth rise. After Beth’s mom left the room, the show continued as Beth lay on her bed and rubbed her sore bottom and then, to my amazement, began to masturbate.

After that evening, I always entered my darkened room in the evening in the hope of viewing another punishment. I had to wait a few months until my persistence was rewarded. Again, Beth sat nervously on the end of her bed. This time, her father entered the room. He was all business and wasted no time on scolding. Apparently he ordered his daughter to bend over the bed as he unbuckled his belt. Beth lowered her jeans and panties and assumed the position. Mr Stanley’s back was to me as he stroked his daughter’s bare bum with the leather strap. My view of Beth was mostly blocked by her father but I got occasional glimpses of her beautiful ass as he reddened a wide swath. Finally, he finished and left the room. Beth walked towards the door, showing me her bare bottom, then turned to view her own seared cheeks in the mirror mounted on the door. Watched her touch her welts in the reflection and gazed upon her neatly trimmed crotch as her other hand found her clit and began to rub it furiously.

In my mind, the opportunity to witness Beth being spanked was a rare thing - when time and circumstances aligned - and she was punished much more frequently at other times, in other rooms or with her bedroom shade pulled. I fantasized about being an immediate witness - actually in the room - and also having her over my own knee, my hand smacking her luscious bottom and the amazing sights, sounds and feelings involved. Over the next few years, I witnessed a several more sessions. They never lost their magic but two others particularly stood out as lasting memories.

In the winter when I was a sophomore and Beth a senior, I was getting up for school. It was still dark out and I was moving about in the dim room not ready yet for bright lights. Suddenly the lights came on in Beth’s room. The shade was open and slunk back from the window to avoid discovery. Beth was still in bed and having a discussion with her mother. Her mom left the room and returned a moment later and yanked down the covers. Apparently, responding to instructions, Beth rolled onto her stomach and reached-back and lowered her pajama bottoms. She had the most perfect bottom and would never tire of seeing it. Her mom parted the teen’s cheeks and slipped a thermometer into the girl’s rectum. I imagined that Beth had claimed to be ill and now her mom was testing the girl’s claims of a fever. Mrs Stanley eventually pulled out the thermometer, read it and set it on the dresser. Beth began to pull-up her pajamas but was stopped short but something her mother said. Mrs Stanley rummaged around in a drawer of the dresser and withdrew a leather belt that she doubled in her hand and then began to lash Beth’s bare backside. Quickly Beth’s ass was criss-crossed with red marks. Mrs Stanley eventually stopped, dropped the belt back into the drawer and left Beth bawling on the bed. Not too much later, I was at the corner waiting for the school bus. Beth approached and her eyes were still red. I imagined the residual soreness of her bottom underneath the stretch pants she wore. I desperately wanted to lower those pants and see her well-strapped cheeks up-close and perhaps touch the most inflamed lines where the edge of the leather bit particularly intensely.

The last spanking of Beth’s was when we were both in college but home for the winter break. Our family had just come in from a walk in the falling snow. I had returned to my room to doff my heavy sweater when I saw the lights were on in Beth’s room. Her mother was in full scold mode - something I had seen numerous times - but this time holding a wicked looking bath brush. She eventually came to the end of her lecture and pulled Beth to her side, pulled the co-ed over her knee, flipped up the back of Beth’s holiday dress and tugged down the girl’s panties. She set about with the brush with great intensity and cadence. In just over a minute, Beth’s ass cheeks were mostly rosy but had even darker zones on her sit spots where the impacts had been very focused.

Now years later, I’m still captivated by spanking. I have found a number of girlfriends and play partners to act-out our mutual enthusiasms. More recently, I created an on-line profile as a disciplinarian on a website devoted to various fetishes and enjoyed connecting with other spankos. A few of those connections have become regular ‘clients’, usually seeking some sort of atonement. Others simply like spanking and I am happy to oblige those ‘just because’ spanking fans, as well. About a week ago, I was contacted on the site by a SpankMePlease - a women seemingly about my age that was seeking consequences for general procrastination and a recent traffic ticket. A conversation ensued about spanking in-general and my thoughts on the kind of punishment I felt she deserved. I suggested that for the procrastination, I would put her over my knee, at first spanking with my bare hand but eventually graduating to a hairbrush. For the speeding ticket, I sent her a picture of a paddle I had made with a note that fifteen swats - one for each mph over the limit - was appropriate. She asked about the state of her bottom for such a punishment to which I answered, ‘Bare, of course!’ She quickly suggested we meet in-person so I could apply the punishment she knew she deserved.

When I opened the door to meet SpankMePlease, I was astounded to be looking at Beth, my old neighbor - a bit older but still beautiful. The unexpected reunion started a conversation about what had been going on in each other’s lives since our college days. Eventually, I suggested that we move into my office to address the primary reason for her visit. I had a chair already positioned for the initial segment of the punishment. I took her by the hand as I sat down and prompted her to my right side. I looked into her eyes and scolded, “You’ve been very naughty and deserve a sound spanking.”

With a look that mixed trepidation and excitement, she replied, “Yes, sir, I have been very naughty.”

I guided her over my lap and lifted the back of her skirt. She gasped slightly as I tugged her panties to mid-thigh. “Naughty girls get spanked on their bare bottoms,” I noted.

“Actually, I wouldn’t want it any other way,” she answered.

Her ass was a bit fuller than when I last viewed it but still spectacular. I began to spank with my hand until both cheeks, top to bottom and side to side were entirely pink. I circled the brush and chided, “Hopefully, this will curb your procrastination.”

“I might need a reminder from time to time,” she teased back.

I resumed the spanking with the hairbrush and after being almost completely silent during the hand spanking she began to grunt as the swats fell. I kept a rough count and paused around one hundred. I was satisfied that this alone would be a reminder for the near future. I helped her to stand and led her to the desk. “For your reckless driving, you’ll be receiving fifteen swats,” I reminded. The paddle was on the desk - sixteen inches long and three inches wide of half-inch thick oak. I had bored a matrix of holes in the contact face. I lifted her skirt to expose her bottom again and tapped the board against her already sore tush. The paddle further intensified the deepening color of the lower segment of her magnificent cheeks. I was so very tempted to caress those orbs and maybe let my wander to a place I knew would be sensitive and very wet.

“Please,” she begged, “Touch me.” She widened her stance and I eagerly fingered her. Finally her back arched and she cried out in an amazingly vibrant climax. When her breathing returned to normal, she rose and turned to face me. “Can I help you now?” she asked nodding towards the bulge in my pants. I nodded wordlessly and tried to contain my excitement as she unbuckled my belt and began to open my pants.