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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