Archive-name: Bondage/cindy-ii.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Cindy's Letters 2





Dear Becky,



     Hey, hon? How goes it? I guess right now you're probably

starting your job at the ice cream shop. Good luck scooping!

(grin). Sorry I haven't written for so long, but as you could

probably guess from my last letter, I've been doing a lot of

adjusting. I'm meeting some cool people through Heidi and

Margitte -- yes, they're both idiots but somehow they have pretty

cool friends, thank god! I met another American guy who's been

giving me rides into Munich every once in a while. He's kind of

nerdy...he's a computer something at the army base but he seems

pretty harmless and it has made things *so* much easier. If I had

to spend more than 48 hours in a row in this house I think I'd

lose it totally! My German's getting better, slowly. One things

for sure, I will never forget how to say "spanking." Yeah,

they're still at it. Luckily I've been acting like a little

angel after that episode with the belt. I even made my bed twice

on morning! I figure if I behave even *better* than I'm supposed

to I might get off easy if (yuck! I hate even thinking about

it!!!) if I *do* get in trouble again. But the kids don't seem to

catch on so quick. Mostly it's just been little stuff...5 or ten

swats over Heidi's butt. But last Sunday was wacko night from

hell! 

     Basically, as far as I can tell, it started cause Margitte

came home late from the city Friday night. She says the car she

was getting a ride in broke down, but Dad didn't buy the story.

Anyway, if I were her, knowing what could happen, I would leave

at least two hours for the twenty minute drive, just in case, so

it's kind of her fault for being dumb, right? So Sunday night,

same old scene. Dad finishes dinner, folds his napkin, and says

solemnly: "There will be a punishment tonight. Margitte was late

coming home Friday night. Apparently," he turned and stared at

her, "she had better things to do with her boyfriend then to get

home at a safe and decent hour." Margitte had put down her fork

by now, realizing from her Dad's tone of voice and his stare, I

guess, that she was in pretty deep this time. Usually she tries

to act all bored about the whole spanking thing, like nothing was

really happening, but this time I could see some aprehension in

her expression, and she was definitely beginning to blush. He

didn't say anything else while he finished his wine, then he

stood up, our sign to follow him to the living room. Margitte

trailed behind us, I noticed.

     When we filed in he was already sitting on the coffee table,

with that same wicked leather belt he used on me. I sat down on

the couch, since I hate sitting near Friedrich during these

things, and I know Friedrich likes to sit on the stool (I

probably shouldn't say this, since they're his sisters, but since

the "view" there is so much better, I think he sits there cause

it turns him on). Heidi sat down next to me, hands folded in her

lap and smiled briefly at me. I didn't figure this all out till

later, but it turns out the guy Margitte had been late because of

is not, shall we say, a favorite of Heidi and Friedrich's, so

they were pretty happy to see their sister getting the belt

because of him, since they figured she'd stop seeing him

afterwards. 

     Like always, dad first told her to strip down. The

punishment, he said, would be thrirty with the belt, bare. I

know, I almost choked too. That's three times what I got and I

couldn't sit for days. Margitte kinda rocked backwards, like a

gust of wind had just hit her, when he said this, but I guess she

learned a while ago that being slow would only make things much

worse, so she recovered pretty fast and undid her belt. I thought

it was kind of funny when she had a hard time with the snaps on

her skirt, since she's usually so cool about it, but it really

took her a few tries before she got. We could all see her hands

shaking. The skirt came down and she stepped out of it. When she

had folded it she stood up straight, as she had been taught,

before slipping her fingers into the waistband of her panties and

sliding them down, then stepping out of them and folding them to

place on top of the rest of her clothes. I remember from my turn

up on stage that this was somehow one of the first parts. It

just doesn't feel right to have people watch you folding your

underwear, especially when it's already been worn.

     Margitte turned to face her dad (Friedrich's eyebrows went

up here, as she turned her ace towards him, at a distance of oh,

4 feet. The her dad did the whole long lecture thing, saying it

embarrassed him "greatly" to have to imagine his daughter as a

common tramp, slutting around with undesirable boys at late

hoours doing God-only-knows-what God-only-knows-where. Through

this whole tirade Margitte looked pretty pissed off, but her face

was also totally red, so I knew it was getting to her. I mean, my

god, who *wouldn't* be embarrassed standing in front of her dad

who is calling her a slut while she's wearing nothing below her

waist but some pubic hair (at least she's got that over Heidi...I

always feel so sorry for her standing there with her "essentials"

so open like that!). 

     After he finished his lecture Margitte began to lean forward

over his lap but he told her to stop and sent me into the

kitchen for the stool. I heard Margitte let out a little sound

that sounded like the noise a hungry kitten makes as I left. I

came back with the tall kitchen stool, which dad told me to put

in the middle of the living room, right next to the coffee table.

Margitte knew what to do, I guess, since she bent right over it

and grabbed the bottom rung with her hands. I guess they use the

stool cause it's low enough for Heidi but high enough for

Friedrich and Margitte. For Margitte it left her pretty well

exposed, but still with her feet flat on the floor and some give

in her knees. To make up for this, I think, her dad told her to

spread her feet out. She moved them about three feet apart,

reluctantly. I figure if I could see as much as I did, Firedrich

must have been able to take in the whole damn landscape from his

position right behind her and a little to the side. 

     Then he took up positon behind her and reminded her that it

would be thirty and that it would start again if she moved her

hands from the rung or if she tried to pull her feet together.

Ok, Becky. Think hard on this. You've had a gynecological exam,

right? Think how exposed you feel lying there. Now imagine that

instead of a speculm (is that how you spell it? the word should

be devil's tool, huh?) the doctor had a leather belt. Even if the

doctor promised to hit only your thighs, you'd still be pretty

tense, right? I figure that's how Margitte must have felt, whith

her legs open and bent over like that.

     She screamed on the fifth one, but didn't cry till the

15th, which I think must be a record. Of course, by the time she

had gotten all thirty she was a total mess. As soon as the last

one hit she jumped straight up, bawling like a stuck pig, and

danced around, looking like a total baby. Her face and hair were

drenched in tears and, I think, sweat. 

     Shoot. I can't fit any more on this damn airmail thing. I'll

tell you the rest in my next letter. But hey! What's up? I wanna

hear from you too, kay?



                              Schnookums, 

                                     Cindy

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