We came home early from the party because my wife, Jill, wasn’t feeling well. We let ourselves in through the garage and she went straight up to bed. I went to find Susi, the babysitter, to tell her that we were back and she could go home. I got close to the family room and heard voices. It was the TV, I thought. But something kept me from calling out. The TV was on, but not very loud and I could see movement on the couch. It took a couple of seconds for me to figure out what I was seeing.
Susi was sitting on the couch with some guy! We had specifically told her that she was not to invite any friends, boy or girl, to the house while she was babysitting. It made me angry to see her openly violating a clear rule. I had a video camera from work that was designed to film in low light conditions. I quietly got it from my study and set it going. When I started taping, Susi was kneeling behind him on the couch massaging his shoulders. She was doing an excellent job and he was enjoying it thoroughly. After a minute or two he pulled her around onto his lap and the young lovebirds embraced and kissed enthusiastically. I filmed them kissing with mouths open and tongues working energetically. I zoomed in as the boy’s hands made their way under Susi’s sweater and began feeling her up. The built in microphone picked up all the sounds, especially Susi’s little gasps of pleasure. The boy pulled her sweater up and off, over her head. She tossed her head making her lovely long blond curls bounce back into place. She unbuttoned his shirt and helped him out of it. He ran his fingers through her long blond hair, telling her how pretty it was and how much he loved it. They continued the hot kissing, mouths moving all over their exposed bodies.
Susi was wearing a short flip skirt which wasn’t covering much now. The camera recorded the boy’s hands reaching up under the skirt and working on her erotic zones. She arched her back, groaning with pleasure. He worked her up to a fever pitch, close to a climax then unzipped his trousers. She bent her head over the open fly of his trousers and did something that made him moan in ecstasy. He continued to run his fingers through her blond curls, twisting her soft hair around his fingers and tugging gently.
With the camera left on its tripod and pointed right at the couch, I walked back to the garage door, opened it and then closed it with a loud slam. “We’re home, Susi,” I called out. “Jill isn’t feeling well, I’m helping her up to bed, I’ll be back down in a couple of minutes.” I smiled when I heard a soft thud (someone must have fallen off the couch).
I stood in a dark corner and listened to the sounds of frantic whispering and clothes being put on hastily. I also heard quick footsteps and the front door closing. In a few minutes I walked into the family room.
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“Susi,” I started, noticing her guilty expression. “Jill is really sick, a bad case of the flu, I think. She wondered if you could spend the night here and help out tomorrow with the kids. That would give Jill a chance to recover without the kids bothering her.”
“Sure, Mr. South,” she said. “I’ll have to call my aunt and tell her, but I’m sure it will be O.K.” Her aunt worked with me, that’s how we’d gotten Susi’s name. Susi attended college in town and was staying with her aunt who was paying her tuition since Susi’s family couldn’t afford to send her. The aunt set her up with this babysitting job to help her earn some extra spending money. Her aunt was a strait-laced individual (never married and with some very prudish views) who set Susi’s curfew at 10:30 pm every day, weekend or no. Susi had told us that she didn’t have much of a social life. Her boyfriend chafed under the rules and restrictions put down by her aunt, but Susi needed her help so she couldn’t disobey.
Susi phoned her aunt, who wanted to speak with me to verify the situation, and then she gave her approval for Susi stay with us overnight to help with the kids. Susi hadn’t brought any clothes with her, but she was about the same size as my petite wife, so I told her I’d something of Jill’s for her to use. Susi sat on the couch with her tiny skirt tucked around her legs which were firmly pressed together. She fidgeted nervously, looking around to see if there was any evidence of her disobedience.
I sat down and began to tell her about our evening and how Jill got sick, then I asked about our kids and did they behave, etc. The more I talked, the more uncomfortable she seemed. I asked her if anything was wrong. She said nothing was. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I got the video tape from the camera and told her I had something to show her.
When the first image (her on the couch with her boyfriend) appeared on the screen, her whole body went rigid. Her eyes were glued to the set and her face got redder and redder as the tape wound its way to the point when the boyfriend fled the room. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out – she was speechless. Finally she croaked, “What are you going to do with that?”
“I don’t suppose you want your Aunt Ellen to see this, do you?”
She shook her head, “No!” emphatically. “Please, don’t show it to her. That would ruin everything. She would kick me out and I wouldn’t be able to finish college, and…” her voice trailed off as tears began to run down her face.
I looked at her sternly and said, “We can’t just ignore this. You must be punished for your disobedience but perhaps we won’t have to show it to Aunt Ellen. You have betrayed our trust and disobeyed a clear rule by having your boyfriend come while you were babysitting and responsible for our children. I have two things in mind for your punishment because you disobeyed. Do you agree to accept my punishments or do you want me to show this video to your aunt?”
She asked, “What are the punishments?”
“They will fit the deed and will serve as an excellent deterrent to future misconduct, other than that you won’t know until it’s time.”
She thought for a moment and appeared indecisive. “O.K.,” I said, “I’ll call your aunt back and invite her to come over for a little video party.” I started for the phone.
“Wait, Mr. South,” she said. “I’ll accept your punishment. Whatever you have planned can’t be worse than ruining all my plans for the future.”
I told her to go down to the basement. She began to look a little fearful and asked again what I planned to do. I didn’t answer her, just motioned her to go ahead of me down the steps. I watched with great interest as her lithe, trim body moved down the steps. Her long blond hair danced with every movement. It was long enough that the dancing ends brushed the swell of her buttocks below her waist. I took her into the basement to keep the sounds from waking anyone up. Once down there I took out a long, narrow wooden paddle that had been used frequently on my sisters and me while growing up. I told Susi that the first punishment was a thorough spanking. Her eyes grew wide, but to her credit she didn’t resist. I held up the paddle and asked her if she preferred that or the belt. She thought for a moment and asked for the belt.
I described to her the pose I wanted – bent over at the waist, clutching her ankles. She obediently bent over and grasped her ankles, her shiny blond curls fell over her head and rested on the floor. She looked at me from between her legs. I softly patted her tiny bottom and said, “This will hurt you, Susi, but some lessons have to be learned in a painful way. Oh,” I added, “this spanking needs to be on your bare bottom.” With that she straightened up and started to open her mouth. I held up the video cassette and seeing it she promptly closed her mouth. I motioned toward her waist and said, “Off with the skirt and panties.”
Her face colored red and she slowly unzipped the tiny skirt and wriggled out of it, then lowered the panties to her knees. “All the way,” I said. She pushed them down to the floor and stepped out of them. “Assume the position,” I reminded her. She bent over like she had before, only now there was absolutely nothing between her bottom and the belt!
Without saying anything more I put the belt buckle in my right palm and wrapped several turns of the belt around my hand until it was the right length. I cocked my arm and delivered the first swat. The sharply stinging WHACK was loud in the basement, but I was sure very little would carry upstairs. I had a woodworking shop in the basement and often built things after the children were in bed. It never disturbed them.
Susi bravely endured the first two with just a sharp intake of breath. Her bottom had three glowing red stripes before she let out her first moan. The next ones really stung producing a grunt and an “Ouch” from Susi. After three more she was sobbing and swaying in pain. I told her, “Hang in there, Susi, we’re almost done.” I finished up with a final three which were applied on top of the red marks of earlier strokes and curled around inside her thighs to very tender areas. They took all the starch out of her. When I finally put the belt away and helped her into an upright position she was limp. I pulled her into a fatherly embrace and stroked her soft, lovely hair until her sobs had quieted down into an occasional whimper. “There, there,” I said, patting her back and stroking her lovely blond hair.
“O.K.,” I said, “now it’s time for your last punishment.” She had put her clothes back on and I pulled out a tall metal stool and indicated that she should sit on it. She did, gingerly and wincing from her sore bottom. I then handed her a hairbrush and told her to fix her hair. When she was finished I said, “Susi, you may think this next punishment is too harsh. I don’t, and you have agreed to accept my punishments rather than show your aunt the video. We can still do that, but then you will have received that spanking for nothing. Your next punishment is a haircut.”
I paused and she gasped and reached her hands up as though she could cover her head. “I am going to cut it very short – that will help you in many ways – giving you more time to study and fewer distractions, etc. You may not thank me now, but in the long run I think you’ll conclude it was the best thing.”
I stood behind her and ran my fingers through her long, lovely hair as I talked. She twisted away and said pleadingly, “Oh, Mr. South, please don’t cut my hair. I’ve had long hair since I first started school. It’s always been the longest hair in my class. I couldn’t bear it if you gave me a short haircut.” She burst into tears. I waited, she opened her eyes to look at me, peeking out from underneath the long fringe of bangs that nearly covered her eyes, and judged the effect of her pleas. She thought I was wavering so she started in again. “Please, Mr. South, don’t do something that cruel. I would be so ashamed. I’d feel naked. I wouldn’t know how to explain it to my aunt.”
Still, I stood there not responding, just waiting. Encouraged she went on, “Maybe I could let you trim off an inch or so. It probably needs that.”
I kept my face neutral and didn’t answer her one way or the other. I took a sheet and placed it around her shoulders then pulled her long hair out from underneath and let it drape over the sheet. I said, “O.K., I changed my mind.” She brightened up at that and smiled. “Susi,” I said, “you are going to give yourself a haircut.” I put a pair of stylist’s scissors in her right hand. “Would you like that better than having me do it?” She happily nodded her head, “Yes.” “The only catch is, Susi, that you have to give yourself a haircut to please me, not you. If you can manage to cut it so I think it looks good then that will be the end of it. If you fail to do so, then I will finish the job with more than a short haircut, I will shave your head bald!”
I have to say that she worked at it with zeal. She obviously didn’t want her hair cut and she shed more than a few tears as she snipped away, but this was preferable to putting her glorious mane in my hands. There was no mirror for her so she had to do it all by feel. She started by grasping a section of her hair on her left side and cutting it about an inch above her shoulders. She watched the severed pieces (about 24 inches long) drop to the floor. A fresh burst of tears stayed her hand momentarily. She got control of herself and cut off another section at the same level. She worked around her head snipping off lengths of hair until she had a very uneven bob just above her shoulders. She took the brush and brushed it out vigorously, feeling the severed ends.
“Are you done?” I asked her. She looked at me for a moment, felt her hair once again and shook her head, “No.” She picked up the scissors and grasped the hair at the left side of her face. This time she closed the scissors at a point even with the center of her ear. She tried to cut around her head at this level, but it was much harder to do accurately. She botched it up and it looked awful. She had left an inch and a half of nape showing under the cut line. She reached back and holding the scissors right against her nape she cut the hair off as close as she could. She then put the scissors in her lap and brushed her hair again. This was a fascinating procedure. I could tell she was miserable and trying hard to get it right so she wouldn’t lose it all.
She asked for a mirror. I told her when she was done I would let her look in a mirror. “Wait a minute,” she said. She reached up to her forehead and pulled the bangs, which were hanging in her eyes, taut and then trimmed them about a quarter of an inch above her eyebrows. She looked dramatically different, I’ll give her that. When I asked if she was done she quietly said, “Yes, sir, Mr. South.” I handed her the mirror and she looked at herself in disbelief. She looked like a totally different person! But the haircut was awful – even she could see that – the ragged, uneven bob looked like disaster.
“Do you like that?” I asked. Slowly she shook her head, “No.” “I don’t either,” I said. “I think it looks awful. You made a horrible mess of it. There is only one thing to do – I’ll have to fix it for you. You do remember what I said when you started. If it’s not right, I’ll finish the job.”
She tearfully nodded her head and then started pleading. “Please, Mr. South, don’t cut it too short. I’ll just die. I won’t be able to face my friends. Please, please, please.”
I had a set of electric clippers in my hand, held out of sight behind my back. I had plugged them in and gotten them all ready while she was concentrating on cutting her hair. I stepped up behind her and grasping a handful of hair on the top of her head, tilted her head back until she was looking up at me. With the other hand I snapped on the clippers and then brought them around until they were poised at her forehead. With only a brief pause I plunged the clippers (without any length guide) into her bangs, mowing them off right at her scalp. I kept on going right back into her mass of lovely, soft blond hair. The severed lengths tumbled back onto the floor. She tried to twist away, but once the first cut was made – in such an obvious place – there was no going back. She quieted down and meekly submitted to the rest of the buzzing. I zoomed around her ears and then pushed her head forward and buzzed off her nape then kept going right up the back of her head. Soon she was as hairless as a new army recruit. She was so demoralized she continued to sit there meekly and submissively as I lathered up her head and, using a disposable razor, shaved her head bald.
When I was done I made her clean up the severed hair (she put it in a paper sack – I planned to keep it to remember this night). She cried the whole time, every once in a while reaching up to rub her smooth scalp. She kept saying, “What will I tell everybody?” I don’t know how she handled that, but every time she came to babysit I looked to see how her hair was growing out. After my wife and I would leave the house, I would make some excuse to go back in for something I had “forgotten.” I would go up to Susi and say, “Now remember our house rules!” and reach out to tousle her hair. At first it was bristly, but then very soon it was long enough to be a soft crewcut. By the time she came back to school for the next year it was styled in a cute pixie-like cut. She let it grow into a chin-length bob and by the time she graduated it was below her shoulders again. We never had any more trouble with her bringing boyfriends to the house!