Abel's spanking blog & stories
Staying at Heathrow for a night before my flight to Ireland for Christmas, I went for a wander to a local shop. The park bench on the small green nearby was occupied by a rather menacing group of teenagers, and the store’s window duly displayed a notice from the local council. A “dispersal notice” was apparently in effect, allowing the police to deal with any young people found out in the area behaving ‘anti-socially’ after 9pm – by taking them home to their parents.
Pity the poor girl who’d sworn to mum and dad that she was over at her best friend’s house doing homework, when the police car drew up at her house and the uniformed officer explained where she’d been and what she’d been up to. Out on the green? Boys? Drink?
“Thank you, constable,” her father would say, followed by: “Upstairs. Now.”
He’d deal with her severely, for only that way could he be confident of preventing a repetition. A sound spanking over the knee would reduce her to tears; given the gravity of the situation, he’d then order her to bend over the bed and would remove his belt…