By the time I was later on in my formative years, I had already developed a spanking fetish. In addition, I also had a big thing for women’s bare feet, and feet in leather sandals.
In one of the neighboring houses to my own lived three women—Pearl, Nita, and Julia. They were all in their thirties during the 1970s, and none of them had ever married or had children. For the time, they were considered spinsters, leading fairly average, unremarkable lives. All three were fairly plump and, to be honest, rather plain in appearance, especially compared to the glamorous images of women from that era. But among them, Pearl was clearly the leading light of their little group. She had a natural air of authority, and the other two often looked to her for direction. Pearl was the more dominant one, always the first to speak and the one who made the final decisions.
The three women had a distinct way of dressing that set them apart from the other ladies in the neighborhood. Pearl, Nita, and Julia favored loose, floral house dresses that fell just below the knee, often in faded pastel colors or small prints. Their dresses were always practical, with roomy pockets and simple buttons down the front. Over their dresses, they sometimes wore knitted cardigans, even in the warmer months, and their hair was usually pulled back in simple buns or pinned up with barrettes. But what I noticed most—what always caught my eye—was their footwear. Each of them wore slip-on leather sandals, the kind with thick straps and sturdy soles, sometimes with a little bit of wear showing at the toes or heel. The sandals were always easy to kick off, and they often did so when sitting in the sun room or relaxing on the porch. The sight of their bare feet slipping in and out of those well-worn sandals, sometimes adorned with delicate ankle chains, became a detail I could never forget.
They often had me over to the house to help with various chores, in return for a little pocket money. My duties included yard work, running errands and even sometimes helping in the kitchen.
As I say, I was rewarded for my work and the ladies themselves were perfectly pleasant, but I was always on edge whenever I saw one of them barefoot or wearing leather sandals. I would imagine getting a spanked bottom by one or all of them, over the sun room couch or in the pantry, with one of those hard sandals.
Finally, one day it was too much for me to bear and I sneaked into the sun room. Pearl came into the room and caught me.
The other two ladies heard the ruckus and came in to see what the matter was. Pearl, as usual, took charge and told me I was a ‘disgusting little boy’ who should go home and never darken her door again. However, the other two ladies intervened. Julia said: “I suppose it’s only natural for a boy of his age but he should definitely get a spanking for it.” Pearl and Nita nodded in agreement, but it was clear Pearl’s word carried the most weight.
“Well, young man,” said Pearl, looking me in the eye. “What’s it to be?” I loved going to that house, and the money came in pretty handy too, so I told her I was prepared to take my punishment there instead of being dismissed.
“All right, mister,” Pearl replied. She sat down on the couch, took off her right sandal and called me over to her. Pearl took me over her broad lap.
(short pause) Pearl’s sandal was a sturdy, well-worn thing—thick, brown leather straps crisscrossed over the top, the edges darkened and softened by years of use. The sole was solid, made of dense, slightly flexible rubber, with a faded imprint of the maker’s logo still just visible on the heel. There were tiny scuffs and scratches along the sides, and the buckle, once shiny, had dulled to a muted brass. The sandal had a faint, earthy scent of leather mixed with the powdery trace of talcum, and when Pearl flexed it in her hand, the leather creaked softly. The bottom was smooth from countless steps, but still firm, promising a sharp, echoing smack. As she gripped it, the sandal seemed to become an extension of her authority—unyielding, practical, and unmistakably real. (pause) The moment Pearl’s sandal left her foot, I felt a jolt of anticipation and dread. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the scent of old upholstery and faint traces of lavender from the women’s dresses. Pearl’s grip was firm as she guided me over her lap, her hands surprisingly strong. My heart hammered in my chest, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I realized Nita and Julia were watching, their eyes wide and faces flushed with a mix of curiosity and excitement. (pause) Pearl’s left arm locked tightly around my waist, pinning me in place. I could feel the rough weave of her dress against my skin, the warmth of her body radiating through the fabric. (pause) Then, with a practiced motion, she raised the sandal. There was a split second of silence—then a sharp, unmistakable
as the leather sole met my bare skin. The sound echoed in the sun room, startlingly loud, followed by a sting that bloomed instantly across my backside. (pause) The first blow sent a jolt of pain through me, a hot, biting sensation that made me gasp. The next came quickly, and then another, each one landing with a crisp smack, the leather sandal leaving a burning trail of heat and ache. The sting built with every strike, sharp at first, then spreading into a deep, throbbing soreness. (pause) My legs kicked involuntarily, toes curling against the faded rug. I tried to hold back, but the pain was overwhelming—my eyes filled with tears, my breath coming in ragged sobs. The embarrassment was almost as intense as the pain; I could feel my face burning, aware of the women’s gazes, their lips pressed tight in a mixture of sternness and fascination. (pause) Pearl’s face was set, her jaw clenched in concentration, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. Nita stood with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, shifting from foot to foot, while Julia leaned forward, her eyes wide, almost entranced by the scene. (pause) The room felt heavy, the only sounds my muffled cries, the rhythmic slap of leather on skin, and the women’s quickened breathing. The heat from the spanking radiated outward, my skin prickling and raw, the pain cresting until I could no longer hold back my tears. I sobbed openly, pleading for her to stop, my voice cracking with desperation. (pause) Finally, Pearl paused, her hand resting on my back. The silence that followed was thick and electric, broken only by my sniffling and the faint creak of the couch. My bottom throbbed with a deep, pulsing ache, the skin hot and tender to the touch. (pause) Pearl released her grip, and I slid off her lap, legs trembling, face streaked with tears. The women’s faces were flushed—Pearl from the effort, Nita and Julia from the intensity of what they’d witnessed. For a moment, none of us spoke, the air charged with a strange, lingering energy.
But it was Nita and Julia’s reactions that lingered in the air, almost as palpable as the sting on my skin. Nita’s face was a study in conflicted emotion—her cheeks were deeply flushed, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. She kept wringing her hands together, her knuckles white, and her eyes darted between Pearl and me, as if searching for reassurance that what had just happened was justified. There was a tremor in her voice when she finally spoke, barely above a whisper: “Well, I suppose that was for the best… but goodness, Pearl, you certainly didn’t hold back.” Her tone was a mixture of awe and concern, betraying a nervous energy that made her shift her weight from one foot to the other, unable to stand still.
Julia, on the other hand, seemed almost mesmerized by the whole ordeal. Her eyes were wide and shining, her breath coming in shallow bursts as she leaned forward, hands gripping the back of a nearby chair. There was a flush high on her cheeks, and she seemed to be holding herself very still, as if afraid to break the spell of the moment. After a long pause, she let out a shaky laugh, her voice trembling with excitement: “I’ve never seen anything quite like that,” she admitted, glancing at Nita and then at Pearl, her gaze lingering on the sandal in Pearl’s hand. “You really showed him, Pearl. I doubt he’ll forget that lesson anytime soon.” There was a strange, almost admiring note in her voice, as if she had witnessed something both shocking and impressive.
As the tension in the room slowly ebbed, Nita reached out and gently touched my shoulder, her touch hesitant but not unkind. “Go on, now,” she said softly, her eyes kind but still clouded with emotion. Julia, meanwhile, straightened up and smoothed her dress, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to compose herself. She exchanged a long, meaningful look with Pearl, a silent understanding passing between them.
“Now, get on with your work,” Pearl said. All three women had quite flushed faces – Pearl partly from the exertion of administering a spanking, and the others no doubt from the excitement of witnessing the sandal spanking that had just been administered in front of them.
As I got on with my work, all three women gradually retired for a while to their own rooms.
