San Pancracio world

this wasn't meant to be a story... it was just going to be the timeline before the story. but... it's kind of a mixture of both 🤷‍♀️

I found out about San Pancracio on an obscure spanking website, with clips from a movie and a short blurb about it being one of the few places that uses corporal punishment on adults.  My imagination went wild – what it would be like to live in a place like this.  I instantly scoured the internet for more information, digging around until I found the entire documentary on a pirate website.  Yes, I infected my school laptop with viruses just for the sake of spanking.  What would they do, spank me?  As if they’d even notice.  

The documentary was from the early-90s, hazy quality and badly translated Spanish.  An hour and a half of some white girl claiming abuse and sexism.  Clearly editing her footage to support the narrative that this traditional culture should be abolished.  

I wanted to know more, but there was just nothing online about it.  From the documentary, I gathered that adults engage in this process and the council of elders decides whether someone should get punished.  Anyone who breaks a law could get strapped in a semi-public way.  For minor offenses, it’s common for the head of household to administer the spanking.  

Seriously, I couldn’t have dreamt up a fictional town this good!

But the documentary and reviews of it were the only things out there about the town itself.  And the more I looked at them, the more I wanted to make my own, less-biased piece about San Pancracio.  

So I researched the area.  Rural South America.  History of border wars and military bases.  Area settled by religious Germans.  Cattle-country.  Zero light pollution around.  Wildlife in the brush that you can’t find anywhere else on earth. 

I had to go there!!!!  It was becoming non-negotiable.

As I researched more, I neared the end of my sophomore year in college.  A major in Journalism and Spanish, because I had no fucking clue what to do with my life but languages always came easy to me.  I wanted to study abroad, maybe even do my thesis project while there.  Why not S.P.?  

My spanko bestie, Claire, helped convince me to do it.  Before I knew it, I was simultaneously convincing my advisor to let me tell a story about rural South America (or a potential booming astrotourism industry, or ecotourism?  Was too shy to pitch the spanking culture idea) and some guy named Beto in S.P. to let me be the first exchange student to attend their satellite university.  

And then I introduced Beto to the study abroad advisor at my school, and by the beginning of my junior year, the plan was in place:  I’d live in San Pancracio from February through November/December, the full school year calendar for them, but the end of junior year, beginning of senior year for me.  The first semester I would have my regular “study abroad” experience… just taking classes at the college and helping out at the local kid’s school with teaching English.  The second semester I would start my thesis project, formally submitting a topic for review.  I’d do self study for most of my classes during that semester, which means… doing whatever I wanted!  Which would probably be a lot of editing my project or maybe traveling around South America or who knows?  The possibilities are endless!

I had no idea what to expect when I boarded the plane at the end of January.  I knew it was summer/rainy season.  I knew the general country’s culture.  I knew… Spanish.  But my tummy twisted into knots as I wondered what I’m getting myself into.

Claire and I had speculated and fantasized about it all winter break.  What if I had an attractive male head-of-household who spanked me?  How would he do it?  Would he use implements?  How would it be different from the guys I’d met so far (who weren’t spankos and enjoyed spanking in a way that wasn’t quite what I was asking for)?  Or what if it was a woman head of household?  Because I knew actually that my host family was Beto’s mom and sister.  So then we explored the idea of getting spanked by a woman, which, not as hott, but equally curious, maybe slightly more curious.

What about Beto?  Would he spank me?  Or Beto’s partner, whom I knew was a manly cattle rancher.  Would he have rights to spank me if Beto wasn’t up for it?

And who were the elders?  How old were they exactly?  How closely are they watching?  

What if I find my future partner there?  Yes, the hopeless romantic in me was wistfully hoping that a handsome San Pancracioian man would sweep me off my feet in the best way… with spanking and… love.  *sigh*

My brain couldn’t actually fathom what it would be like.  I realized that as I sat on the overnight bus from the capital – 12 hours to S.P.  I could barely sleep.  The stars were brighter than I’ve ever seen before, and it’s not like I’m from a big city or anything.  There were barely any other vehicles on the road.  And as the sky brightened, I realized that the brush stretched for miles and miles.  There was literally nothing out this way.  An occasional small town.  An occasional dirt road turn-off.  

At one point, I became the only person left on the bus.  I turned the camera to myself for my maybe-documentary, maybe-vlog.  “I have no idea what’s about to happen.  But I am at the end of civilization.  Look…”  Then I panned to the sunrise, golden over the green horizon.  Putting the lens back on me, I grimaced.  “What am I getting myself into?  I’ve never done anything like this before.  Forget the culture differences.  I’ve never even been to a place this remote.  Look – zero bars on my phone.  It’s been like this for hours, occasionally I’ll have service when we’re stopped at a town.  Is this real life?  Am I actually doing this?”  I rambled on and on for a few more minutes, then noticed the San Pancracio sign on the side of the road, so I panned the camera to see it as we drove past, then settled into a parking spot in the tiniest bus station ever.

The bus released a sigh and the door swung open, driver deboarding almost immediately.  I slung my backpack over my shoulder, keeping my camera in hand as I descended.  The first thing I noticed outside was the humidity and heat, even for so early in the morning.  The second thing I noticed was the sounds of wildlife… calls I didn’t recognize.  

I thanked the driver when I saw him with my gigantic suitcase waiting for me.  

I recognized Beto almost immediately – partly from the skype call we had, partly because his bubbly energy matched his outward appearance – tall, lanky, dressed a little nerdy with his button-up shirt and khakis, surprisingly a cowboy hat though.  He immediately came in for a hug and the customary air kiss on both cheeks.  

“Lexi, we’ve been waiting for you,” he said in English.  “Let me present you to my mom Zunilda, you can call her Tia, and my sister Carolina.”  He led me to a woman in her mid-50s, a little heavy-set with her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a bun.  She wore a big smile and kind demeanor, and I instantly knew this woman wouldn’t spank me, but she would be very cozy.  She came in for a hug and air kisses before passing me to her daughter.  

“Call me Caro,” she said in Spanish, a different accent than I was used to or than was at the capital.  I leaned in for the hug and kisses, clocking that Caro was a year or two older than me, short brown hair, jean shorts and a simple T-shirt.  

“Come,” Beto said, taking my suitcase towards a pick-up truck and tossing it into the back.  “We will drop your items off at home, and then I will take you on a quick tour of the important places around town.” 

We smushed inside the truck, all four of us, Caro driving, Tia next to her, then me, then Beto at the door.  I was surprised we could all fit tbh.  She backed out of the parking space, right onto the highway without really even looking because… nothing was coming because… nobody comes out here besides me apparently.  From the highway she went towards the sign I’d seen earlier, and turned to drive beyond it.  There was a hospital, police station (Caro waved to the officer who stood outside looking like someone I wouldn’t mind taking the strap to me 😈), a pharmacy, vet clinic, and leather shop. Then a plaza area with a church at the far end, with a couple of restaurants, a cafe, and bars scattered around, then the university.  

At the college, Caro took a right down a dirt road.  Just like that, we entered residential territory.  I mean, there were still some shops and stuff, but much more home-y, not business-y at all.

Suddenly I was scared.  Where was I actually about to live?  

Oh well… I wanted an adventure.  Here I was, getting one.  

Caro pulled up to a metal gate, which Beto promptly went to open.  In front of us was a white stucco house that stretched out across the dirt like it had been expanded every generation.   On the side was a metal roof that served as a carport and, judging from the scattered chairs and long table, a communal eating place. There were mango trees and chickens in the distance, along with another house at the far end of the property, which is where Tia and Caro lived.  

By the time I pushed the door open, Beto was already at my side with my luggage and we were greeted by two women, one closer to Tia’s age, the other in her mid-30s.  They introduced themselves, but by this time I couldn’t keep up with anymore names or faces. 

Instead of going out to tour the town as planned, I took a nap with a fan on full blast, drenched in sweat, in Beto’s old room/my new room.  I had so many dreams which were connected to whatever noises I was hearing outside… children playing, animals calling, chickens bawking, someone yelling at someone else.  

When I woke up it was because orange sunlight was shining right in my eyes.  I didn’t remember where I was at first, feeling drunk and fuzzy.  But the reality started wooshing back in as I listened to the sounds around me, realizing the entire extended family was outside.

It was my welcome party.  Apparently Beto had said something about it during our drive home, but I hadn’t actually been listening enough to retain that information.  So when I woke up with bed-head and emerged from my room, I had to immediately greet what felt like half of the town.  So I rushed to the bathroom, washed my face, came out looking slightly more presentable.  

I met everyone.  Apparently the cop guy from earlier, the hott one?, yeah, his name is Ramon and he lives in the other house on our property (I could definitely see him spanking me at some point).  Everyone was practically a cousin.  But my favorite was Ceci, a woman with down syndrome who won my heart immediately.  It was hard to understand her gibberish but somehow I still spoke her language.  Told ya I was good at languages.  

My camera made an appearance and some people got a little stiff and suspicious.  The documentary still echoed through my mind, and if they’d seen it, too, of course they’d be wary of outsiders.  But instead of putting my camera away, I snapped shots of their suspiciousness.  

We drank a lot.  By night time there was a group of us sitting around with beer and telling stories.  The most memorable one was Tavo, another cousin and one that I could get on board with.  He was obnoxious in all the right ways, seemed kind of bossy, somehow trying to live up to Ramon’s level of authority.  

The animal noises from the brush had turned nocturnal.  I asked about them – frogs, insects, monkeys (?!), maybe a jaguar.  

Everyone’s face from that drunken night is a blur.  I just remember Tavo (cocky hott), Ramon (authority hott), Claudia (Ramon’s wife), Caro (my new roommate), and Beto (my school contact).  

x-x-x-x

I heard spankings.  That’s the evidence I had that it still existed in this community.  I couldn’t be 100% sure that it was what was happening, but… it definitely sounded like a spanking.

But it became real a few days after I arrived, when Caro and I were sitting in the living room.  I was on my laptop editing photos, Caro was sewing by hand while watching a telenovela.  We heard Ramon outside talking to Tia who hung laundry on the line.  He was asking if Caro was home.  

I glanced over at my host sister who was too absorbed in the tv to have noticed Ramon was looking for her.  I had a butterfly in my tummy that knew what was coming, even if it hadn’t fully registered with my conscious mind yet.  

Ramon entered the living room, without knocking as customary for him (I learned quick that even though I shared a house with 2 people, I actually also shared it with Ramon, Claudia, their three kids, and Ramon’s mom).  “Caro,” he said simply, moving towards her and expecting full attention.

“Hey, cousin, what’s up?  Bad timing…” then nodded at the tv.

Ramon did not give a shit about Caro’s telenovela.  He stepped in front of the tv, blocking her view.  “Did you take Gabi to the water tower?” and folded his arms.

Caro’s face turned white and she sank into the sofa.  Her mouth opened but no words came out for a minute, until she stammered, “c’mon, it’s a rite of passage.  Beto and Tavo took me when I was her age.”

“I didn’t ask about when you were her age.  I told you not to take her, and you deliberately disobeyed me.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that serious.  Gabi really wanted to go… all of her friends have already been!  She’s just feeling left out.  Isn’t it better if she goes with me than alone?”

I just sat there, stunned that this was all happening in front of me, looking from one cousin to the other, waiting to see how this would end.  I had a hunch about Caro’s fate when Ramon’s eyes narrowed at her excuses, and he took a step closer.  

“You’re telling me you used a nine year old’s judgment over your own?”

Caro glanced over at me, then back up at Ramon.  “Primo, we all did it.”

Anger and protectiveness flashed across his eyes.  “Carolina.  How tall is the water tower?”

“I dunno.  Like 30 meters or something.”

“And what happens to a child’s body if it falls off of a 30 meter structure?”

Caro hadn’t expected that question.  Her mouth eased shut and she hung her head.

“Look at me,” Ramon ordered, and she obeyed.  “You know better than to take my children to a place I have strictly forbidden.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered.

He pointed to a closed door – the mystery door.  I had no idea what was actually behind it, but Ramon’s sudden interest in it told me that all those spanking noises probably came from a similar type of room.  

Caro didn’t wait for him to say more, she put away her sewing project and stood, telenovela long forgotten.  She led the way, opening the door enough for me to get a glimpse inside.  It was plain – white walls (like everywhere else in this town), just a wooden table in the middle, and an armless chair in the corner of the room.  Ramon closed the door before I could take in more detail.  It shut with the loudest CLICK.  Because everyone knew what was about to happen.

My heart pounded inside of me, which it had been doing this whole time but I just now pulled my attention towards it since I was alone.  All of my senses were heightened… the room looked sharper, I could hear every tiny sound, including Ramon continuing to fuss at Caro, though I couldn’t tell the exact words.  My throat was dry.  

I tried to imagine what was happening inside.  Was Ramon standing or sitting?  Would he put her over his knee or over the desk?  Was her bottom bare?  Was he going to use his hand or an implement?  

My extensive experience watching spanking videos gave me the knowledge to know what I heard in the other room – a hard, fast, bare bottomed hand spanking.  I could clearly hear the sound of bare skin meeting bare skin, and the rhythm was too fast to be leather, not the right sound to be a wooden implement.  I chose to imagine Caro in an otk position, legs kicking as he punished her.  I both wanted to watch… and didn’t? 

The swats rang out in the house, along with Caro’s eventual cries.  And just like that, it was over.  I heard Ramon say a few final words, Caro mutter something back, a little bit of shuffling, then the door opened.  I tried to act really interested in whatever picture I was supposedly editing, even though there’s no way I could even concentrate on it.  

Caro just came and plopped back down next to me, scowling because she’d missed a good chunk of her telenovela.  She casually asked me if I’d seen what happened, but I had to admit that I’d been distracted.  I didn’t tell her by what… she just assumed it was my photos.  Because in S.P., spankings are just a thing that happens.  It’s not a big deal.  It’s not a spectacle.  It’s just a confrontation, reckoning, then forgiveness.  

Caro didn’t look particularly bothered about the spanking part at all, only that she missed her show.  She squirmed a little in her seat, but otherwise just kept sewing.  

When Tia came in later, there was just a passing comment about Ramon, like “what happened?” and Caro’s response about being in trouble and Tia just like, “oh okay” then going on about her day.  It was kind of wild.  

And what I always wanted for myself.  

x-x-x-x

Caro’s spanking from Ramon stuck with me.  So much that I was ready to earn my own.  Just out of curiosity.  Because what would it be like to be on the receiving end?  It couldn’t have been that bad… I could handle what Caro had gotten.  Just get in trouble, be noticed and corrected, and then it’s over and you’re forgiven?  Piece of cake!

But I wasn’t sure who would even give it to me.  Tia already seemed like the type to let everything slide.  But I needed to test the waters.

Friday I didn’t have to meet up with Beto at the university, because classes would start Monday, so I slept in and decided to have a fun night out.  For a week, I’d been the example of a tourist… All I did was walk around taking pictures, not getting in anyone’s way and not asking obnoxious questions.  I’d found some fun spots, including the other side of the “highway,” where none of the real town existed, but some military ruins and a grassy airstrip sat alongside a park with a beautiful lake.  Anyway, not the point.  Point is… I was behaving (at least I thought I was) until that Friday night.

Because Thursday is when Caro was spanked.  And Friday is when I decided I needed the same.

So I went to the bar.  There wasn’t much of a scene here, as you can probably imagine, considering how small the town is.  I drank, smoked cigarettes, talked shit with the locals, pretended like I belonged here.  

There was a tussle between two of the men at the bar when it started getting late.  It happened around the same time that the cop was on patrol in the area, so he came over to break it up and warn everyone to knock it off and start heading home.  I recognized the cocky voice immediately – Tavo.  

That was the second person I decided should spank me.  And in my drunken state, I knew the way to achieve my goal was to be as obnoxious as possible with him.  Talking back.  Meeting his cockiness with my own.  Irritating the shit out of him.  Because when he was telling the guys to knock it off, I’m pretty sure he threatened a citation with swats, but I was drunk af so maybe I’m imagining that.  

I got home hours after everyone went to sleep.  The sun was already starting to rise.  Instead of going to sleep like a normal person, I grabbed my camera and went out for photos.  I was in the middle of a good shot when I heard the familiar voice – Ramon.  “hey!  You can’t take photos in there, that’s someone’s home.”

My tummy did that butterfly thing again where I hoped Ramon would do more than just fuss at me.

But he didn’t.

But I learned that taking photos around other people’s homes was something that would at least get me fussed at, which could eventually escalate to a spanking.  Noted.

I slept all morning and afternoon on Saturday, then showered and headed out for another drunken night.  I barely saw Tia and Caro that day.  

The bar was the same shit as the night before.  Alcohol and cigarettes and loud music and Tavo breaking up scuffles in the middle of the night.  

This time, I was smoking a cigarette off to the side when he finished intervening with the scuffle, and he came towards me.  “You shouldn’t be out this late.  Go home, Lexi.”

“Pssh, yeah ok, whatever dad,” I teased.  

And I stayed out really late again.  Stumbled in, this time not bothering to take pictures because I was slightly too drunk.  I passed out in my clothes and woke up during the evening.  Everyone was hanging out outside, eating dinner.  It was like the walk of shame again.  They were all disapproving, but no one really said anything besides Tia offering me food.  

I was so hungover on Sunday that I decided to take it easy for the night, especially because I had classes tomorrow, which I was kind of nervous about.  Was school another place I could get spanked?  

The next day I learned, not really.  There was a slight potential, but the professors were too cool and nobody at school seemed keen on the idea of giving spankings.  It was literally just about learning.  I think they even hated giving grades.  It was low-key kinda hippie.  Which honestly, I loved.

I met Noelia, who apparently I had met at the welcome dinner, Ceci’s sister.  Noelia had heard all about me and wanted to know more, like about where I came from and the differences here and what I thought about her town so far.  She was surprisingly the most candid person I had met, even more so than Caro or Beto, the two people with whom I had had the most conversations.  I instantly loved Noelia, much in the same way I’d loved Ceci.  

For lunch we went together to the leather shop where Caro worked.  Of course I had known that, but now seeing her there it fully clicked.  She worked full time with her cousin, Mateo, and Noelia helped out in the front.  

It was amazing how close families here are.  I don’t even know my cousins, maybe have hung out with them a total of 3 times in my entire life.

Noelia took me through the door to the back of the shop, where Mateo sat fixing a saddle.  He only briefly looked up to say hi, but kept working.  We went through the back door and out to the courtyard between the shop and her house.  Ceci was in the chicken pen. 

“Her only chore is taking care of the chickens, and she takes it very seriously.  She’d live in there if Mateo would let her.”

Noelia dropped me off with Ceci, who gave me a tour of the area, told me all of the chickens’ names, their entire daily schedule, and where each of them slept.  When Noelia came back, it was to coax Ceci into coming inside for lunch.  She took the opposite approach with Mateo, just shouting into the opened doorway for him to come eat if he’s hungry.

The four of us sat around the table together eating the stew that Noelia had concocted.  I had no idea how much was authentic to the region and how much was Noelia’s creativity.  It was… not Tia’s cooking, but edible.

I was intrigued by Mateo.  He was practically a giant, and the quietest demeanor of anyone I’d maybe ever met.  Seemed mostly consumed by work and caretaking responsibilities.  I’d also seen him at the welcome dinner, but couldn’t remember him specifically.  But as we sat at lunch, I noticed something I liked about him – his attention to the people he cares about.  Asking Noelia about classes.  Asking Ceci about her favorite chicken by name.  Recounting a story Caro had told Noelia, so he could get the details straight.  His aura was wrapped up in seriousness, like he could probably use a comedy show but would refuse it if offered.  Like something had happened to him.  I wondered about his story.

Later, after classes, I went home for dinner, then took my camera out around town.  Sometimes I got absorbed into the photos, other times I tried to put myself in a position where I could have gotten in trouble for taking pictures of homes.  But again, nothing happened.

I went to the plaza.  It was night time, Tavo’s shift had just started and he was walking around on patrol, which was really just him socializing with everyone between the highway and where the main street turns to dirt.  

I watched him, dressed in the S.P. version of a cop’s uniform.  Buttoned-up navy blue shirt with matching navy pants and cap, black belt with cuffs and a walkie talkie hooked onto them, black boots.  His name was sewn into the right breast, policia nacional on the left.  

“Lexi, out causing trouble again?” he questioned as he walked towards me.  I wanted to photograph that face… the cocky smirk, the hates-me-loves-me eyes.  

“Always.”

“Careful where you point that thing,” he warned, nodding towards the camera.  “It’s late, you should go home.”

“You’re always telling me to go home.”

“You’re always out late.”

“What’s wrong with being out late?”

“You have classes in the morning.”

Did everyone in this town know my schedule?  “So?”

He shook his head.  “Why do you want to stay out?”

I held up my camera.  “It’s more fun to photograph at night.”

“Yeah?”  Tavo moved towards me to look over my shoulder.  “Show me.”

I pressed the button to review my past images and flashed a few across the screen.  I was waiting for praise and his surprise at my artistic genius.  

Instead, I got, “You shouldn’t photograph such personal things without permission.”

My eyes rolled.  “There’s nothing that personal.”  And clicked my camera off, kind of peeved with him.

“You have a good eye for this.  It’s interesting to see the town from your perspective.  Even though you should be more careful.”

“Where else should I go for pictures?”

“Go home, Lexi.”  Tavo’s famous line for me.  

x-x-x-x

I was out with my camera all the time.  Sneaking into restricted areas.  I climbed the water tower that was the cause of Caro getting in trouble.  Explored the abandoned military area despite the prohibido sign.  Stayed out at all hours of the night.  I was misbehaving about as much as I felt comfortable doing, but the reality seemed to be, these people didn’t punish for light offenses.  Would I have to actually do something legit bad to get spanked? 

One evening, sitting in the yard with the family, Sra. Rosalba (Ramon’s mom, and one of the elders on the council) got my attention.  “Lexi, you are aware of our culture around discipline, correct?””

I gulped.  Would she be the one who ended up finally doing it?!  “Yes, of course.”  I couldn’t help the blush that came up.

She nodded.  “And you understand that as you integrate into our culture, if you misbehave, someone will spank you?”

My heart thudded against my chest, throat closing up, butterflies in tummy.  This was the thing I’d been waiting for.  “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she said, then continued her dinner as if she hadn’t just told me that in front of the whole family.

I dared glance up to see Tia and Caro exchanging a glance that I couldn’t quite read.  Ramon with an expression of “good, finally.”  Claudia distracted by the kids and not even paying attention.  

I had no idea that my first spanking would happen the next day.