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Note to the reader: This is part of a series of spanking stories I’ve wanted to write for years in reference to my favorite novel, 1984. I read 1984 in college and fell in love with the novel from the start. There is something wonderful and sick and twisted about the world George Orwell painted in this work. I admit you have to be pretty sick and twisted to fantasize about wanting to live in that Big Brother world of 1984 as I have. I felt a thrill when I stumbled upon the novel’s scene describing the booklet Spanking Stories. It appears in part two chapter three and Julia tells Winston about her job in, “Pornosec, the sub-section of the Fiction Department which turned out cheap pornography for distribution among the proles…There she had remained for a year, helping to produce booklets in sealed packets with titles like Spanking Stories or One Night in a Girl’s School, to be bought furtively by proletarian youths who were under the impression that they were buying something illegal.”
Winston asked Julia what the booklets were like. Julia said, “‘Oh, ghastly rubbish. They’re boring, really. They only have six plots, but they swap them round a bit.”
Julia and Winston have a love affair and things inevitably go to hell for them, but I still fantasized about being Julia (hence my favorite pen name Julie) in 1984. I fantasized that if I lived in the 1984 world I would dress and undress in front of the telescreen (where the Thought Police monitor your every action) and would seduce political party members. Like Julia I would also work for Pornosec. I fantasized in detail about the cheap dirty stories I would have written for Spanking Stories. Before I could never anonymously write these stories, but now with thanks to .com, I can. These stories I write will be “ghastly rubbish” complete with bad spelling and typos as they should be for a cheap booklet of spanking stories. It won’t be hard for me to write ghastly as I am a lousy writer, and while I feel lousy about how I write I feel good about writing this story. This is a story I want to write, and I’ve written stories (such as My Blonde Step Mom Spanked Me) in the past just to make other people happy, and some of the stories that I’ve vomited out onto the computer screen and that were published online disgust me but this new series of stories will be different.
These stories will be published separately with 1984 in the titles. This story is the second story in the series, but, don’t worry, you do not have to read the stories in any particular order and it will probably take me some time to write them all. The stories are all separate works in and of themselves…For those of you who haven’t read 1984, don’t worry it is not required reading for these stories but shame on you for not reading this book, and you should be spanked over your lover’s knee for not reading 1984…
Joe lived in the Proletarian quarters and worked at a factory producing bomb fuses. He was a greasy faced youth of 19 who lived in his parents flat in a quarter six miles north of the Ministry of Truth. One Friday evening after work Joe felt restless and wandered into a newsstand next to the Lemon Tree Cafe. An old gentleman, with the name Charrington on his name tag, stood in the newsstand and smiled genially at Joe who fingered some of the magazine titles. They were mostly chess magazines such as Chess Theory in Relation to INGSOC Today, and Youth League Chess. There were a few party publications in relation to Big Brother and Newspeek magazines but Joe wasn’t looking for anything like this. He wanted a “blue” booklet. A blue booklet was an illegal work called blue by the proles because of the blue plastic the booklets were wrapped in. Joe heard a rumor at work that being caught purchasing or possessing a blue booklet was punishable etiler eve gelen escort by 5 years in a forced labor camp. However, Joe was a desperate lonely youth who wanted to read something that would excite him after a week of drudgery in the factory.
The old man Charrington walked over next to Joe and coughed. Charrington smiled and asked, “Is there something I can help you find young man?” Last April Joe bought a blue booklet titled One Night in a Girl’s School at this newsstand from a bumbling youth behind this newsstand’s counter. Joe looked at the old man with his eyeglasses and gray hair and felt safe that the old man was not be a member of the Spies or The Thought Police. “Well,” Joe stammered, “I was, ah, ah wondering if you may uh, have any, oh, blue booklets.”
Charrington smiled and said, “I know how important it is to have the freedom to look at such periodicals without being embarrassed about purchasing them. Come with me.” Charrington led Joe to the back of the newsstand next to the cash register and opened an old shabby black briefcase. “These were smuggled into London last night. Prime reading!” Charrington winked. Joe looked inside the briefcase and inside were two dozen copies of a blue booklet: Spanking Stories. Joe could only read the title as the rest of the magazine was covered in the plastic. “How much?” Joe asked.
Charrington whistled and said, “Two Ten Bob Notes.”
Joe knew he was getting ripped off but he felt desperate. He paid Charrington and tucked the booklet into his jacket pocket. Joe strode down a sidewalk terrified of being stopped by a police patrol and being searched. As he hustled through he passed several posters of Big Brother, which were typically enlarged photos of a man’s head who’s eyes were large and round and seemed to be looking at you from whatever angle you looked at the poster. Fortunately, no patrols stopped him and he soon walked into his parent’s house, which, by good fortune, was empty. Joe ran down the hallway, into his bedroom, and removed the booklet from his jacket. He locked his bedroom door, unbuttoned his pants and sat on his bed. He tore open the stubborn plastic wrapping and looked at the cover. Under the title Spanking Stories, was a cheap black and white photo cover of a large 30-year-old-blonde woman dressed in a house dress holding a wooden hairbrush handle in her right palm while glaring at a slim sexy 20-year-old-blonde woman in a short skirt who held the palms of her hands on the seat of her apple-shaped butt. Joe guessed that the picture implied that the 30 year old had just spanked the 20 year old and he felt aroused thinking of this scenario.
Joe opened the booklet and fanned through the stiff pages to see if there were any more photographs or drawings. There were none and he felt a tingle of disappointment by the booklet’s cheap binding. Inside the front cover of the booklet was a brief enigmatic sentence: “Published by Emmanuel Goldstein Productions. Copyright 1983.” Joe shut the booklet and reopened it to a page at random and chanced on a story entitled: I Spanked My Son’s Bottom by Anonymous. Joe stroked his cock in his underwear until finished the story and felt aroused. While he was not attracted to his own Mom he found the fantasy degrading and wonderful at the same time. He pictured Emma the Mommy as the girl on the booklet’s cover. Joe took down his pants and underwear and lay across his pillow. He stroked his cock in and out of a fold in the pillow case and thrust his hips until he had a orgasm. Afterward he took a nap and awoke at 23:00 hours. He picked up the Spanking Stories booklet and paged to the next story called My Mom Spanked My Bottom. Joe read the story and felt a little ripped off. Had the author just swapped the plot around from I Spanked etiler grup yapan escort My Son’s Bottom to give the son’s side of the story? On the other hand, he felt turned on reading the son’s point of view and read the story again picturing himself as the son, and he pictured his neighbor, Mrs. Parsons, as his Mother. He felt another erection and laid himself face down on his bed. He smacked his bare bottom a few times while masturbating and soon experienced a mind-cleansing orgasm. Joe hid the Spanking Stories booklet in a safe place where his parents would not find it. The next day after Joe returned home from work he fished the booklet out of its hiding place and turned to a page at random toward the back. He was surprised to see that there letters written to an editor. He began to read a letter to the editor titled “My Sister Spanked My Bottom.”
“My Sister Spanked My Bottom.”
I am writing to your publication for advice on something that happened to me which I found most unfair and humiliating. I am an 18-year-old living in my parents’ house along with my older sister, Ayn. Ayn is 25 and 5’10”, 185 pounds, with shoulder-length blonde curly hair. She is a bossy sister who dresses provocatively in short skirts and sleeveless blouses. Last weekend our parents were out of town and they put Ayn in charge of me. I don’t think it is right for a grown man to be under the care of his older sister! Momma put a 22:00 curfew in effect, but I didn’t worry about the curfew as Ayn said she was going out dancing with her friends and wouldn’t return until late. I enjoyed the clear spring evening with my friends at an outdoor INGSOC lecture and returned home around 23:00. I was stunned to find my sister waiting for me with her arms crossed in the entryway of our split-level house.
Ayn frowned at me and said, “George, where have you been?”
“Out at an INGSOC lecture,” I said.
“Your are lying to me! I bet you were out with some slut of a prole!” Ayn spoke in a shrill voice.
I felt the outrage of a person accused of a lie who is telling the truth. I said, “I’m not lying!”
Ayn waved a finger at me and said, “Liar! And to top it off you are back after curfew! Momma told me to spank you if you violate curfew!”
I felt a pain in my stomach and said, “S-s-s-spank me? But I did nothing wrong! I don’t believe Momma said that for a second! I haven’t been spanked in ten years!”
Ayn scowled and put her face and inch from mine. Her perfume smelled sweet and her breath smelled of cinnamon. It was a sharp contrast between how she smelled and how she glared. “I am going to spank your bare bottom, little man! You are a shrimp and are going to pay for the nasty attitude you’ve shown me for years.” It’s true that I’m a little man as I stand 5’2″ 120 pounds. I am tiny compared to my sister. She continued in a devilish whisper, “I’ve waited for Momma to give me authority over you and now I have it!” At this she grabbed my right wrist and dragged me to the kitchen. She fished a spatula out of a kitchen drawer with her free hand and held onto me with the other. She slapped the plastic spatula on the wooden counter and turned her full attention to me. She stared down at me right in the eyes and said, “Young man, you are going to get the spanking of your life.” She reached down to the crotch of my jeans toward the zipper, and I tried to stop her but her hands were too strong and she overpowered me. She jerked my jeans down to my knees and, while I stood before her, she reached her long red fingernails into my underwear and tugged them down to the tops of my thighs.
Dear editor, I can’t tell you how humiliated I was to stand in this position with my cock hanging flaccid in front of my sister. She looked down etiler masöz escort at my small recoiled penis and laughed. It was mortifying. She took hold of my wrists and led me to a chair. It was hard for me to follow her with my jeans around my knees and my underwear around my thighs. She sat down in a chair and, oh, how easily she placed me over her lap. She was in one of her favorite white sleeveless blouses that showed off how thick and powerful her biceps are. She bent me over her lap and thighs, which were barely covered in her short black skirt. I ended up face down across her lap, and I stared face down at the green kitchen tiles. My penis was pressed against a fold of smooth fabric in her skirt, and I felt hopeless and humiliated exposed in this position. Ayn lectured me, “You rotten little boy. I can’t tell you what a naughty thing you are having to have your bare bottom spanked by your own sister! This is going to hurt you more than it will hurt me.” With that I felt her right palm SMACK against my bare bottom. I reached back with my hands to try to cover my bottom, but Ayn grasped both of my puny wrists with her left hand and pinned my wrists to the small of my back and she commenced spanking me. She fired off a rapid series of sharp stinging spanks against the lower half of my bare bottom. I tried to wiggle about her lap to duck the spanks but it was pointless as she had me pinned against her warm smooth lap. She stopped spanking me for a moment and began to reach across the kitchen counter while keeping me pinned down.
My mind raced to figure out what she was doing and then I remembered: the spatula! Ayn rubbed the cold plastic of the spatula against my burning bottom. Ayn said to me, “George, tell me the truth about my yellow panties disappearing from my dresser last month. You stole them, didn’t you?”
I had stole them, wore them (mind you very loosely around my waist as they were way too big for me) and I rubbed my penis against the satin fabric until I came on my sister’s panties. Then, out of guilt and horror, I tucked them into bag and dumped them in a rubbish heap on the street. While I laid across my sister’s lap, the memory of stealing her panties made me ashamed and aroused. I felt my penis getting hard against my sister’s thighs. My erect penis was now throbbing, but I lied and said, “I don’t know what you are talking about, Ayn!”
Ayn said, “You are lying to me again!” With this she set forth a violent series of spanks that caused me to grind my groin about her lap in effort to move my body away from her blows. I felt a dizzy shameful sensation of an approaching orgasm and my penis kept rubbing against the smooth fabric of her skirt. Horribly, and against my will, my penis shot off a load of sperm on her skirt, and the semen leaked onto her naked thighs and down her legs. Ayn shouted, “You evil little monster! How could you cum on your own sister?” At this she picked me up by the wrists and tossed me off her lap and onto the floor. She charged out of the room and into her bedroom to change clothes.
I am still humiliated and ashamed from what happened. When my parents returned home I asked my Momma if she gave Ayn permission to spank me. Momma gave me a funny look and said, “Why no, what on earth are you talking about? Did Ayn spank you?”
I lied and said no. Momma shook her head, laughed a belly-rolling laugh, and strode away from me.
So ask you, Editor, do you think this is a most unfair treatment from my sister? I don’t think it is right for one sibling to spank another. What do you think?
George (last name withheld)
Maybe next time you should think twice before stealing your sister’s panties. Still, Spanking Stories does not advocate siblings spanking one another. However, readers of this publication are encouraged to write us with their opinions.
Joe finished reading the letter to the editor and felt a little aroused. He didn’t have a sister, but the actions of the story made him curious. He didn’t feel quite like masturbating, so he paged to another part of the booklet.
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