We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Program

Standard

Hi!

It’s me, your friendly neighbor spanko. I wanted to share something exciting! I’ve decided to start a story account with patreon.

You can find that here.

My current plan is to offer early access to patrons, as well as additional mini-stories in addition to my regular posts.  All of these will eventually be public, but I don’t have a timeline for when.  Half of them feature Paul and Edith, two regular characters. The other half are completely random people and circumstances. All of them are exactly 200 words. There is, in fact, a full length Paul and Edith story waiting for you there right now!

I fully support people charging for their work, but for now I think this is the best option for me. If I can get enough support, I can prioritize writing more, which means I can continue putting out quality stories involving TTWD, as well as listen to readers more and explore some ideas and requests you have for the blog.

SO. If you have enjoyed what I’m doing here and would like to contribute, please check out my page and think about subscribing. I sure would appreciate it.

And stay tuned for a mini-story preview!

Good and Still

Standard

“Hey!”

Paul had just turned off the car and then plucked the phone from Edith’s hands.

“Get inside and find a corner.”

Her chest was instantly tight at the command, and she felt the corners of her mouth drop down. Her most immediate impulse was to argue– it almost always was– but a quick scan of his eyes made her think better of it. Next the whine of “why” popped into her mind, but she rejected that as well. She knew exactly why.

They’d been to a movie, a fun one, and though he hadn’t mentioned her fidgeting, he had placed a hand on her thigh to settle her about a quarter through and had given it a squeeze more than once after. Each time she had forced a deep breath and attempted stillness again, but eventually she would find herself rearranging her legs in the comfortable arm chairs or bouncing on the soft seats.

She knew he wasn’t actually upset, and this wasn’t real trouble exactly. But it felt real enough.

She didn’t manage a “yes, sir,” but she did as she was told. Once there, she took several deep breaths, committed herself  to stillness once more, and tried to figure out how she was feeling.

It confused and thrilled her that her favorite scripts never seemed to tire. She was always afraid that they would, that one day her heart wouldn’t race with certain tones and phrases. But here she stood again, nose touching the corner and hands on her head. She decided she was feeling small and sulky and vulnerable.

“Edith, come in here,” Paul called to her after several minutes, just as she was beginning to contemplate allowing her feet to wiggle. Still, she left the corner with reluctance, shuffling toward his voice. Now that she was actually going to be spanked, part of her had very much changed its mind about what she really wanted to happen here. The bath brush on the bed made her bite her lip.

“Undo your jeans and bend over the bed. And let’s talk about how we act during the movies.”

The blush rushing up Edith’s face somehow translated to a scramble of her fingers at the button of her denim. She shoved her jeans down and bent over, feeling indignant now about the whole situation. A bit of stubbornness eroded as she felt him grab the sides of her underwear and slide them swiftly down to bunch at her knees. She could see him in her periphery as he stepped back and his hands moved to his belt buckle, the sound of its removal slick and practiced. She groaned and turned her head, but that put the bath brush directly in sight. There was no good option.

“You are lucky I didn’t pull you out of the theater and spank you in the hallway,” he said as the first lick fell sharply across her bottom.

“Paul!” she yelped, mortified at the thought, “I wasn’t that bad!”

“I don’t think you sat still for more than ten minutes at a time, young lady,” he scolded, the belt falling hard again and again.

“I’m just fidgety!”

“You were disruptive,” he replied as the belt landed across her sit-spots. “And I know you are capable of being still.”

“I’m not!” she wailed, hands covering her face and toes digging into the carpet. Every lick made her flinch and they were coming fast.

“I’m not going to argue with you, Edy. I’m going to incentivize you. Maybe I should make you practice sitting still every day for a bit.”

“Paul!” she gasped as he concentrated on the same spot for a moment. “No thank you! I don’t need that please!”

She was more panicked by that than anything he had done so far; it was clear from her tone. He smiled to himself and laid into her for another minute, increasing the arc of each swing and listening to the leather slap against her skin and to her small pitiful noises.

“Ow, wait Paul,” she said when he stopped with the belt and picked up the wooden implement. “That’s enough though!”

He brought the circular end down with a satisfying pop, and her voice wavered. “Ow ow ow ow!”

Her fingers crept back along the comforter as he spanked her, grabbing handfuls of it near her waist.

“Keep your hands out of the way, Edith,” he said, annoyed but not slowing his pace. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not I’m not I’m not!” she shrieked nonsensically, unable to explain that she knew better than to put her hands in the path of the bath brush. I’m not going to get in your way! They were just… fluttering.

He paused his onslaught, then said, “I want you to count the last twenty. And I do not want you to move.”

“Yessir,” she said quickly, gathering her arms up under her chest and bracing herself. The bath brush landed with a crack seconds later. “One, sir!”

He moved swiftly after that, and she squeaked her way through the swats. He reminded her once to put her leg down, silent but for a tap of the brush against her calf muscle. When he was finished, he pulled her underwear back up but left her jeans down. She stood and dove into his chest the moment she was allowed. Tears pricked at her eyes and she could tell she’d have trouble sitting still later.

That was a vicious cycle for the fidgety if there ever was one. She would try to be good though, she thought as she pressed her cheek against his firm chest and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. As good and still as she could be.

Packages

Standard

Sadie stretched and yawned, then curled back up on the couch, head resting in her girlfriend’s lap. Caroline smiled and brushed a lock of hair behind the younger woman’s ear, then said, “One more episode?”

“One more episode,” Sadie grinned, shoulders hunching with glee. They were having the laziest ever Sunday and she was loving every minute of it. The moment was cut short by the sudden appearance of a dog snout and a barrage of puppy kisses. Laurie, their lab, had come in on his spindly legs to say hello.

“Ugh!” she said, turning quickly and burying her face in Caroline’s stomach. “Too many kisses, Laurie!”

Caroline ruffled the girl’s hair slightly and then leaned over her to catch the dog’s collar. “He’s got something in his mouth… hold on… out, Laurie… out… good boy. Good. Huh. It’s a piece of cardboard. I wonder if he got into the recycling.” She leaned back and looked at the brown scrap in her hand as Sadie rolled back over and looked up. Facing her was the address label from a package she had meant to return over a week ago but had been putting off. She felt her eyes getting wide and closed them, rolling back toward the television and grabbing the remote from the table in front of her.

“No he couldn’t have, I took it out this morning. It’s still empty.” She clicked play, and the opening credits began to roll on their current binge watch. They never skipped the intros to shows. She set the remote down, but it was immediately picked back up and the show paused.

“Okay, well he still got into something, and we need to figure out what. Up, please.”

“Car-o-liiiine,” Sadie whined, now just stalling for what was looking inevitable. She was answered with a tug to her ear, and she begrudgingly sat up. Caroline gave her a stern glance, and then both women looked toward the hallway, where they could see other bits of brown and white packaging the dog had dragged out when they weren’t paying attention.

“Where on earth…” Caroline said to herself as she stood, walking toward the debris. She didn’t pause to pick any of it up just yet, wanting instead to find the source of the destruction. There were pieces strewn on the stairs, which she followed all the way into the guest room. Laurie greeted her with a completely unabashed wag of his tail, stretching his long front legs out and looking up at her with an obvious invitation to play. “Not now, mister. This is very naughty. What is all this stuff?”

Downstairs, Sadie sat on the couch with her arms crossed, tears already welling up in her eyes. She hated being caught, and she hated being in trouble, and both were seconds away.

“Sadie Michelle! Come here, please!”

Sadie’s head dropped limply forward and her shoulders sagged, and then she dragged herself off the couch and headed upstairs.

~   ~   ~

“What is all of this stuff, young lady? And why is it all under the bed in here?”

Caroline gestured at half a dozen stacked boxes, some missing strips from the puppy destruction, then moved her hands to her hips as she watched her girlfriend fidget.

“You are trying my patience,” she said when no answer was forthcoming. She saw the dampness beneath Sadie’s eyes, but it only meant one thing to her at this stage– her girlfriend felt guilty about something. “Out with it.”

Laurie whined and cocked his head, looking from one woman to the other. Sadie frowned and bit her lip, then said quietly, “It’s just my Christmas returns.”

More quietly still, she said, “And a few cyber Monday things.”

Caroline pursed her lips. “Yes, I remember you telling me you had taken care of those.”

“Well,” Sadie said, looking at her hands as she popped her knuckles one by one, “I sorta did, because I got them all packaged and addressed and printed out the labels.”

“But they never made it to the post office.”

“There’s still time! Everything has a return date of six weeks or more, so I still have…” Her excitement dipped slightly as she did the quick math. She tried to recover, finishing as earnestly as possible, “Tomorrow. I can run to the post office tomorrow.”

“Go get the paddle,” Caroline said, no hesitation in her voice.

“No, but Carrie–“

“Go on.”

Sadie’s face scrunched up and her bottom lip quivered for a second, and then she stomped her foot and turned around, going to fetch the punishment paddle from its home in their bedroom. In the mean time, Caroline turned to Laurie, who let out a quizzical yap.

“I’m not happy with you either, young man,” she said, but he just gave another sharp bark and wagged his tail. She smiled at him, then patted her leg so he would follow her downstairs, where she let him outside into their small fenced backyard. He would be content to run off some energy for a few minutes, and she had something to take care of.

~   ~   ~

Back upstairs, Sadie was leaning against the wall of the guest bedroom near the dresser, arms crossed, surly, paddle dangling limply from her hand. Caroline walked past her and sat down on the bed, then crooked a finger at the pouting girl. Sadie trudged over to her, not handing her the implement but not fighting when the other woman reached up to take it, setting it on the bed beside her.

“Get those hands up,” Caroline said, and Sadie slowly obeyed, locking her fingers around the back of her head and feeling the hem of her t-shirt slide up closer to her belly button. She closed her eyes as she felt Caroline grip her underwear at the hips and drag them slowly down her bare legs. Sadie never felt modest except in these seconds— it hadn’t even crossed her mind to wear pants since they hadn’t left the house, though Caroline had gotten dressed earlier— and she let out a sigh of relief once she was over Caroline’s lap.

She was squirming again immediately as her girlfriend’s palm made contact with her bottom, and it kept falling with rhythmic certainty. “Owwww, c’mon,” Sadie said pitifully, knowing her bottom must already be pink, even after only a moment. Caroline’s hand was wide and hard and she was taking care to cover every inch of her girlfriend’s bottom.

“This is just a warm up, little girl, and you are lucky you are getting that. I do not appreciate being lied to.”

“Ow, but I didn’t lie! It was just a different interpretation of the goal!”

Caroline increased the force behind her swats and was happy to see a physical response from the girl over her knee. “It was a reinterpretation of a goal we had already set together. You knew exactly what I meant when I asked if this chore had been completed.”

Sadie kicked her feet, hearing the annoyance in her girlfriend’s tone and feeling embarrassed about her poor defense. Her frustrated kicks turned into scrambling when she felt the sharpness of wood land on her already warm bottom. There hadn’t been a warning or anything! Just the sudden shift from palm to paddle. “Carrie!” she screeched.

“I’m not impressed with the choices you have made here, Sadie Michelle. I’m sure you kept telling yourself that you would get it taken care of, but did you put it in your calendar? Did you set any reminders up on your phone?” Caroline paused just long enough to be sure there weren’t any protests coming, that she was correct in her assessment, before continuing her lecture. “And after your first lie, you felt like you couldn’t come tell me so I couldn’t remind you either.”

She was swinging the paddle hard and fast, ignoring the increasingly sad noises coming from the girl over her lap, including the wailed, “I’m sorry!’ that came shortly after she paused her scolding. The dark wood of the paddle flashed against her girlfriend’s red bottom, but she didn’t slow her pace. She hadn’t wanted this interruption of their lazy Sunday either, but she did not take the situation lightly. They had no rules about shopping. They had rules about honesty. They had rules about asking for accountability. They had rules, and breaking them had consequences.

And so, Sadie found herself crying as Caroline continued to spank her, paddling every inch of her bottom and deliberately landing the thin wood across her sit spots. She kicked her underwear off at some point, but didn’t notice they were gone. She couldn’t concentrate on anything except for the bite of the implement across her sore and swollen bottom and the occasional desperate promise that she was so sorry and would do better, she really would.

Eventually the spanking did slow, though even through her sniffles, Sadie knew this meant the lecturing was about to begin again. She swiped a hand under her nose as Caroline said, “I am not happy about your impulse toward reinterpretation or your ability to convince yourself that it was okay so long as you took care of it.”

Swats still landed intermittently as her girlfriend scolded, but it was her words that caused the wail that escaped Sadie now. The woman’s ability to cut through her excuses surprised her every time, and in her current position she was defenseless against it.

“And we do not invest in mistakes in this house. Do you understand me? I promise the spanking I would have given you a week ago wouldn’t hold a candle to the paddling you earned today. But you let one bad choice lead to another until you ended up right here, getting your bottom spanked.”

She snapped the paddle down several times quickly to drive the point home as Sadie kicked her feet and said plaintively, “I understand, Carrie! I do! I’m sorry.”

“You can be sorry in the corner, and I don’t want to see you move an inch until your punishment is over. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sadie agreed without hesitation. She screeched her way through a final flurry of swats, and then she was being guided up and shepherded to the corner by the dresser where she had stood so sullenly just minutes before. She felt Caroline press a wad of tissues into her hands, which had been folded obediently behind her, and she offered a watery “thank you” as she wiped her nose and felt Caroline kiss the back of her head.

~   ~   ~

This time when Laurie offered his slobbery kisses, Sadie accepted them gratefully. She heard him bounding up the stairs before she felt his tongue on her calves; Caroline wouldn’t have let him come to her if she was still in trouble. And of course, when she was done being slobbered on, her girlfriend was there with open arms and comforting words. She helped Sadie redress, repackage her things, and clean up the hall; next they made a plan for the post office. Sadie could hardly be pried from Caroline’s side after she had been disciplined, which suited the older woman just fine. Soon they were resettled on the couch, this time with the puppy piled on top of them, ready to finish their show.

School Bully

Standard

The rumors are true. I didn’t want to believe them but they have piled up too fast for me to deny. My sister, my baby sister, is a bully.

How did I not know? You have always been such a sweet kid, and even though my weekends home have been less frequent as I prepared to graduate, I’ve always seen you as the same little girl, following me around, wanting to be just like me.

You even followed me to this tiny little college town! I couldn’t believe it when you applied, but nothing has made me happier than the thought of spending our senior and freshman years together. Just like in high school, I got wrapped up in student government, and we have made real changes, and everyone knows me and they don’t hesitate to say hello or tell me about a problem if they think I can help.

Only now, the problem I keep hearing about is you. In fact, I’ve had more conversations about you than with you this semester. I’m busy a lot, but I would make time for you if I could get a hold of you. This is just not what I imagined.

Maybe I shielded you from too many consequences when we were kids. I don’t know. I can’t explain how you became a mean girl, but I guess you did and I definitely need to fix it. I have a legacy to protect here, and I don’t want my bratty kid sister to be the thing people remember about me.

No time like the present. You haven’t been responding to my texts or calls and you weren’t in your dorm when I tried to stop by this morning. But I see you now, across the cafeteria. You have a couple of friends at your table, no one I know well yet. Now that I know to look for it, I can see the looks of apprehension on their faces when they talk to you. You are beautiful and intimidating and I’m sorry I have to do this, but I do. I stand on my seat and cup my hands around my mouth.

“Hello, friends!” I project over the noise of the lunch crowd. The cafeteria is almost always open, but someone makes announcements during every meal, and this time slot is mine. A quirky tradition, but I love it just like everything else here. A respectful almost silence descends, and I swear I see you roll your eyes. My temper spikes a bit, but I keep it in check and my voice cheerful as always.

“Just a few quick things. The library is offering extended hours during finals week. Doors will close at 2am and the coffee shop will be open until midnight. Also the vending machines in Munger Hall have finally been fixed as of this morning. And on a personal note…” I hesitate, just long enough that I am sure everyone is paying attention.

“I’ve heard reports all semester that students are being terrorized by none other than my very own little sister.” My eyes turn to you, and your mouth drops open. “And I’m sorry. It isn’t strictly my job to manage underclassmen, but she is my responsibility and I promise it will be taken care of. Thank you.”

I hop down, ignoring several “ooooos” and the chatter that grows with every step I take in your direction. There is no avoiding me now.

“I need you to come with me,” I say when I reach your table, but you are glaring up with your arms crossed.

“I hate you. I can’t believe you just did that!”

“I’m not going to say it twice.”

I see the same stubborn mask descend on your face that used to indicate a brewing tantrum. At least some things haven’t changed. You stand and throw your napkin on the table, and say louder than necessary, “I am not going anywhere!”

Well I have my own streak of stubborn. I grab the empty end chair from your table and flip it around, then snatch your wrist and yank you forward. Pulling you off balance is easy, in part thanks to your ridiculous boots. Only a freshman would wear heels like this to a regular day of classes. You have so many things to learn.

Today’s lesson comes over my lap, where you have just landed with a shriek. “This could have happened back at my apartment,” I say unsympathetically, “but you have been awfully hard to get a hold of.”

You struggle, but all you accomplish is helping me get your skirt most of the way up, showing your round bottom covered in only some too-thin tights and a pair of cheeky red underwear. I have your wrist again, firmly grasped and pinned just by your hip. It is safe to say I have a hold of you now.

“This isn’t fair! You aren’t in charge of me!”

I smile grimly, resting my hand on your thigh, which is cold beneath the translucent material. It is my turn to roll my eyes. Next I’m going to make you buy pants for the winter.

“You earned a spanking and now you’re going to get it, and that is all there is to it, young lady,” I say firmly. I’m aware of many eyes on us now, but you are my only concern.

“And I’m too old! I’m too old for a spanking and you have to stop!!!”

Time to show you how untrue that is. I lift my palm and bring it down with a resounding smack. I hear someone behind me gasp; maybe they also didn’t really believe this was going to happen.

Again and again my hand finds your bottom. You tug at your wrist and throw your body sideways and kick your feet, but you are no match for me. I keep you in place and spank you thoroughly, pausing after only a minute to fight with your tights.

“Stop! Stop it stop it stop it!” you squeal as I tug them inch by inch down the curve of your backside.

“I am not stopping until I am sure I will never ever hear another report about your behavior. Not the rest of this year or the ones after that, whether I am here to watch you or not,” I lecture, hand landing hard and fast. “I know you are good and you need to start acting like it. No more of this high school crap.”

Your underwear don’t do much to protect you; they aren’t much good for anything besides framing your bouncing cheeks. Your tights are tangled around your knees, but you are still fighting me, banging your free fist against my thigh and yelling at me to stop.

I know you have to be feeling this spanking, but I think you are too full of adrenaline and anger right now. I need you to feel as embarrassed as I have been, listening to all the ways you’ve disappointed me so far. Time for these panties to come down. I grab the band in the middle and pull, revealing a bottom that already looks a little swollen.

“Wait! Wait please!” you squeal, and there is an immediate change in your pitch. Your legs finally still as your modesty is ignored, which gives me the opportunity to shift you over one knee and lock them in place. “This isn’t fair!”

Now as my palm targets your sit-spots, you are starting to sound like my baby sister again. Your screeches sound more like wails, and the fingers of your trapped hand have grasped the leg of my jeans. You are starting to break.

“It’s time to get rid of this attitude,” I say, not slowing down in the least. “This is a good school. Filled with kind people, and bridges you have no business burning. I have gotten complaints from everyone from the janitors and RAs to your classmates and professors.”

“I’m sorry!” you say quickly, and I don’t believe you but it’s a start.

“I’m sorry, too. Sorry to have a spoiled brat of a sister walking around here like she runs the place. But I am not sorry for spanking your bottom, and I will do it again any time I need to. Is that clear?”

“Yes! It’s clear, it’s clear!” you say, pushing against my thigh, struggling now in a different way. You aren’t defiant, but every smack makes you wiggle and kick and whimper.

“I mean it. And I have eyes everywhere. I will know if you put a toe out of line.”

“I understand,” you say, and there is a sob under the last word. Of course, I’ve seen you cry your way out of punishments before, even fallen for it a time or two myself. This will not be one of those times. If anything, I spank you harder.

“And in case that isn’t very obvious by this crowded cafeteria, I don’t care where this has to happen. There is no place safe from a spanking when you’ve earned it.”

“Okay,” you say pitifully. “Okay. Please. I’ll be good.”

“You’re sure?” I ask, again molding my hand to your sit-spots, and you squeal and cry.

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good I’ll be good I’ll be so good, I promise, please,” you babble.

Satisfied that you will certainly do your best, I decide to end your punishment. No more lecturing now, as I put all of my concentration into spanking your sore swollen bottom and ignoring your pitiful sad sounds.

I finally stop and I want to hug you, but we aren’t quite finished even when I pull you up again. There is mascara smudged all around your eyes and your hands immediately tug down your skirt in the front, but it remains bunched up in the back and most of the room has a clear view of your very well spanked bottom as you sniffle and look down at me. I am still sitting with my hands on my knees and a stern expression as I look into your watery eyes, making sure you are fully aware of your audience before I continue.

“Apologize to everyone, for being a bully and a brat and now for disrupting their meal.”

Fresh tears roll down your cheeks and you gulp in a breath and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“Louder.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, loud enough for me this time, and I nod. “Very good. Let’s get you cleaned up. Come here.”

People slowly return to their conversations, and you take a few wobbly steps to stand between my knees. I tug up your underwear, then your tights, listening to you hiss as they rub against your bottom. Finally I fix your skirt, stand, and run my thumbs gently under your eyes before kissing your forehead.

“I think we still have some things to talk about,” I say gently, smiling only a little when your eyes widen. “Just talk, unless you can’t behave yourself.”

“I can behave,” you say in a small voice.

“Good. Let’s go back to your dorm.”

I grab your purse from the floor, put an arm around your waist, and walk us toward the door.

Worth It?

Standard

She touches my bruises lightly as I lie belly-down on her bed, pajamas and underwear pulled halfway down my thighs. My head is propped up on my hand, watching her. She’s being tender, but even the soft pads of her fingers hurt. I don’t show it on my face.

“The belt? Just for being on your phone?”

I shrug my shoulders. “He says he makes rules to be followed. And he says he doesn’t like using his belt, so when he does he makes it count.” I let a wince slip through then, caught in the memory of the spanking I’d just gotten. Dad didn’t monitor the content of my devices, but he wanted me off of it after eleven and he got alerts when I hit a certain amount of screen time. I’d argued with him as much as I could over it, told him it wasn’t fair and I was too old for that kind of surveillance, but he said as long as he paid the bills, he made the rules. I couldn’t afford a phone as nice as the one he agreed to get me, so eventually I’d taken the deal. I’d hit my screen time threshold at a very inopportune moment tonight, so he’d gotten pinged that I was over and knew I was on it late. Two strikes for the price of one.

“I guess my mom wouldn’t be thrilled if I was on my phone after lights out. She never checks on me though and I just keep it on silent. You shouldn’t have snuck over here,” she says, frowning at the end, but I just flash her a reassuring grin.

“Well I couldn’t text you once he took the phone, and I had to say goodnight to my girl.”

She smiles, blushes. She’s right, of course, but easy to distract at least. Her expression becomes concerned, a bit bashful, and she asks, “Was it bad?”

“Nah, it wasn’t too bad,” I lie. He’d walked in without knocking, and there I was, lounging on my bed with a stupid grin on my face under the glow of my fancy new phone. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut when I saw him, hands going to his hips and mouth taut.

I wouldn’t figure out how he’d known I was up until later, and he didn’t pause to explain. Once he’d seen me, there was no defending myself anyway. He’d begun to undo his belt while I was still scrambling up. “Dad, wait!” I’d said uselessly.

“You know the rules,” he had replied unsympathetically. “And you know what happens when they get broken in this house.”

My mouth had opened, then slowly shut again. He was right about that one. I was suddenly resigned. “Yes, sir,” I’d replied miserably, putting my phone down on the nightstand, knowing he would take it before he left.

“Will you tell me about it?” she asks hesitantly, concentrating on her survey of the damage done instead of looking at my face, and now it’s my turn to blush a little.

“Not much to tell, really.”

“All right,” she says with a hint of a pout, which makes the corner of my mouth tug up. Everything she says and does feels precious to me.

“Why are you so curious? No one ever spanked you with a belt before?” I tease her gently.

“No!” she answers emphatically, eyes widening. “Of course not.”

“Of course not,” I repeat, grinning at her again as if we don’t both know her to be a world-class mischief-maker. “Well, I have encountered the belt more times than I would like to recall, and never once has it been fun.”

She bites her lip, but stays quiet, listening.

“I had to take these down,” I tell her, gesturing at my currently lowered clothing and bare bottom, “and bend over the bed, and behind me I could hear him folding it in half, and it’s almost worse than the actual spanking, hearing that and knowing what’s coming.”

“Only almost?” she asks.

“Only almost,” I confirm. “He lit me up like a Christmas tree tonight. It hurts and it’s loud and I have to stay in place.”

She looks at me so tenderly that I forget what I was saying for a second, and then there is a voice in the hallway.

“Honey, who are you talking to?”

She claps a hand to her mouth and her eyes go wide with panic. Her mom. We thought she was asleep. I feel a little panic too but I make myself squeeze her hand reassuringly before I slip off and under the bed. I barely have time to pull my pants back up before she knocks, then enters without pause.

“Mom!”

“I heard you talking,” her mother says, and just beneath the duster I can see her slippered feet. She walks slowly across the room, opens and closes the closet door, then makes her way toward the bed. We’re so screwed.

“Mom! I just… I was… on my phone. I’m sorry.”

“I see,” her mother replies, stopping in her tracks, and I breathe a sigh of relief. It is short-lived, as her tone shifts from vague suspicion to decidedly stern. “I’m going to get the hairbrush. You get yourself ready.”

“Mom, please! It was just for a minute and I—”

“You know how I feel about you being on that thing late at night, and I told you what would happen if I caught you at it.”

“But Mom I just—”

“Get ready, please.”

“Please, Mom… I don’t want… can’t you just…” she sounds so lost and I want so badly to crawl out from under the bed, but it would only make it worse for both of us.

“Right now,” her mother says firmly, and I watch her feet leave the room. I hear my girlfriend groan pitifully, and now it is her feet I see slip from the bed to the floor right in front of me, bare except for the polish on her toes. Seconds later, a pair of white underwear descends, pooling around her ankles before she steps out of them, and then her mother is back.

“We had an agreement, young lady, and as long as you live under this roof, there will be consequences for your bad behavior. That phone is a privilege and it comes with strings attached.”

She sits on the bed as she lectures, and it sinks just the tiniest bit above me. My face is inches from the back of her ankles, but I am too afraid to move away. There is another small moan of distress, and then my girlfriend’s feet disappear, leaving her underwear crumpled in front of me.

I wish I could disappear, but instead I am trapped under this bed, my own bottom still throbbing with my heavy heartbeat. There is one more small, “Please, Mom,” and then the spanking begins.

I thought most of her panic was about me being here to listen, but I realize pretty quickly that there is no circumstance where someone would willingly take this spanking. As best I can tell, her mom is only using her hand, but the swats are forceful, and even muffled by the mattress above, I can hear my girlfriend’s gasps and whimpers.

And it goes on forever! I keep losing track of the number, but I know it’s a lot. Her mom only pauses once, and even though I can’t see it, I know it is to pick up the hairbrush. She has only landed a few before the whimpers turn into apologies.

“I’m sorry! Momma, please! It won’t happen again. I swear, I’m so sorry! Please!”

The only thing I hear her mother say is, “Keep your feet down.”

She is equally thorough with the hairbrush, and by the time she winds down, I am sure we will have matching bruises. My poor girl is sobbing at the end, when she is allowed up and I see her standing on tiptoe and hear her soft “ow ow ow” as she hops around the room.

Her mother gives her a moment before she herself stands and turns. I have to shove my hand in my mouth to keep from making a sound; I’m somehow sure she is about to bend down and look under the bed. Instead, she must have pulled back the covers because the next thing she says is, “Time for bed, young lady.”

I hear a shuddery intake of breath, and then the mattress sinks slightly again as she climbs in. Her mother says goodnight, turning off the light as she leaves and closing the door behind her.

I lie in the dark listening to the soft crying above me for a full count of sixty before I slide out from under the bed and crawl under the blanket with her. She doesn’t turn, but scoots back against me and grabs for my arm, wrapping it around her desperately. I think we’re both too nervous to even whisper, so instead we just lie together, her bare bottom radiating heat that leeches through the thin cotton of my pajama pants. I lean up to kiss her temple, and her face is just as warm and I feel her tear tracks on my lips.

I put my head on the pillow and nuzzle my face in her hair, and we take a deep unplanned breath together. I wonder if she is suddenly weary, as I am.

I should really get up before I fall asleep; we’re both phoneless now, so I can’t set my usual 3am alarm. But it’s so comfortable, wrapped up together like this, and it has been such a long night. I decide to lie still for just a few more minutes.

Come On In

Standard

“I’m in the kitchen! Come on in!”

Quincy closed his eyes, took a deep unnecessary breath, and leaned his head against the door jamb. “Joanna…” he called a second later as he stepped inside. “What have I told you?”

“Sorry, Quincy! I knew it was you though!”

The voice came from the kitchen, and belonged to a bouncy young woman in an apron who was pulling a load of bread off the rack as Quincy walked in.

“What have I told you, Joanna?” he repeated again firmly as she set the pan down. She turned, her oven-mitted hands falling behind her back, and looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m not supposed to ask just anyone in here any more without testing them. I just forget sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Now another woman walked in, somehow already looking bored by the conversation despite having just arrived. She was strikingly beautiful, as was Quincy, and both moved with an elegance that felt out of place in the small mobile home where Joanna lived. “I asked for a cup of sugar,” the woman continued, “and she invited me right in just an hour ago.”

Joanna scowled at the new arrival as she took off her mitts and began to tidy the kitchen. “I was just trying to be nice! I didn’t expect you to trick me!”

“Of course you should expect me to trick you, darling,” the vampire said condescendingly. “It is what we do. It is how we survive.”

“Adrienne,” Quincy interrupted, “why did you come here in the first place?”

“Oh, I just thought I would check on your little pet. Turns out she is very naughty…” Her voice rose in the end as she teased the girl, and Joanna blushed. Quincy continued before she could muster a retort, looking for confirmation from the human.

“Joanna, you invited her in, too? After I told you how important it was that you be on guard?”

“She said she had just moved into the neighborhood!” Joanna replied defensively.

Quincy pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “Adrienne, I need to have a talk with Joanna.”

“Please, by all means,” Adrienne said, looking delighted. “Pretend I am not even here.”

Quincy’s eyebrows shot up. “Privately. And she is going to revoke your privileges once you leave.”

“Well I find that to be terribly rude,” Adrienne said, though she did not actually appear affronted or surprised. Quincy placed a firm hand on the small of her back as he showed her toward the hallway into the living room. When she stepped over the threshold, he turned to Joanna.

“Repeat after me, please. ‘You are no longer welcome here.’”

Joanna smiled and did as she was told, looking up at the lovely creature just outside her door, still mesmerizing under the yellow light of the porch lamp. “You are no longer welcome here.”

“‘Now excuse me, it is time for my spanking.’”

“Now excuse me, it– wait! Quincy!” Joanna was suddenly slack-jawed as she watched Adrienne smirk, and then the front door was shut and she was alone with her supernatural friend.

“I’m afraid so, Joanna,” he said, taking a hold of her forearm. “I need to impress upon you how serious I am about this.”

“Quincy wait!” she said uselessly, pulling back against his strong grip. Of course, she was no match for his strength, and in a matter of moments he was settled on the couch in her living room and hauling her easily across his lap. “You can’t do this!”

“It appears quite obvious to me that I can,” Quincy said above her as he pulled her dress up and tugged her tights and underwear down. “And it feels obvious to me that I must. I don’t know how else to imprint upon you the danger you are in if you do not take some very simple precautions.”

“Quincy I understand! I really do!” Joanna whined, still struggling against his hold. She froze as his hand came down on her bottom, and then wailed desperately, “Quincy!!!”

“I am sorry to have to do this,” he said, his hand falling steadily now, “but I would be much sorrier if one of my less benevolent cousins came to call here someday.”

“You call that woman benevolent?!” Joanna said as she kicked her feet and attempted to cover her bottom. Quincy trapped her delicate wrists easily in the long fingers of his left hand and continued to spank her.

“I am not concerned with Adrienne,” Quincy answered, concentrating his efforts on the creases between her thighs and bottom. “I am concerned with you. It is one thing not to be aware of the supernatural, Joanna. Most humans are not, and that is how we would prefer it.”

“I wish I didn’t know you existed right now!” the girl yelled. Her bottom was beginning to show signs of the very thorough spanking she was receiving, but her friend was not slowing down.

“Well that I cannot fix,” Quincy replied. He eyed the girl’s round bottom, making sure to cover every inch with his cold hands. He held great affection for the breakable girl across his lap, who should not have been able to see him at all. But she had seen him, had approached him with fearless curiosity even, and she reminded him of a little sister that had long since grown old and been buried. He had guarded her as well.

“Quincy,” she said again, a bit of beg in her voice now, “you can stop. I’m not going to let anyone else in.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” he said, refocusing on the task at hand. “I should be very sad to hear if anything happened to you, especially on my account.”

“But nothing is going to happen!” she squealed, even as her pitch shifted at a particularly hard swat.

“Vampires are… unpredictable, Joanna. And right now the days are short and the nights are long. I want you to be safe.”

“Ow.. ah, Quincy… please…” Joanna’s bottom ached and her legs were tired from kicking, but he continued spanking her, waiting for the apology and the promise he needed.

“Quincy I’m sorry!” she eventually wailed, and he smiled grimly to himself. He began to wrap up the spanking, delivering even harder swats as he spoke now, voice slightly raised so she could hear.

“I want your word that you will be more cautious. Please.”

“I promise, Quincy! I will be, I promise,” she said desperately. Satisfied, he slowed and then stopped spanking her, resting his long cold fingers on her hot sore bottom.

“Very good. Thank you,” he said, rubbing her back with his other hand for a moment before lifting her in his arms and repositioning her in his lap. The mismatch of his thin arms to his supernatural strength usually startled her, but she was preoccupied tonight and let herself be easily handled. “Thank you,” he said again, holding her.

Joanna leaned her head against his chest, sniffling, and he wondered briefly if the absence of a heartbeat would make her jump back up. She was unflappable, though, and he smiled as he rested his chin atop her head.

She played with the buttons of his shirt for a moment, then said poutily, “I guess I’m not allowed to revoke your privileges.”

Quincy laughed, startled at her quiet boldness, and said, “No, you most certainly are not.”

She smiled against him; he felt it rather than saw it, and he squeezed her gently, deciding right then that he would see her have a long and full life under his ageless watchful eye.

Piano Lesson

Standard

“Again,” she barks, and I move my hands back to starting position. She has begun to suspect what I already know: today’s lesson will be fruitless.

I’m barely through the opening chords when she says, “Enough. Stand up.”

My shoulders sag. I am not in the mood for a lecture. I slide my thighs across the smooth wood of the piano bench, then stand and face her.

“I meant to…” I start halfheartedly, but she cuts me off.

“No more excuses. You’ve exhausted my patience and now I plan to deal with you the same way I have been dealing with lazy students my entire career. You have earned a spanking.”

My heart stops and I try to swallow but my throat won’t work. Coming from anyone else I might think this was a weird joke, but it is immediately apparent to me that she is serious. In fact, she is pulling a beautiful ebony brush from the sideboard drawer. I try to swallow again.

“I’m sure you are familiar with the idea, though I highly doubt you have experienced such a thing before. Perhaps if someone had taken the time to apply a hairbrush to your bottom, you wouldn’t be standing in front of me now with such clumsy fingers. As it is, today you will leave this lesson quite familiar with what it is to receive a proper spanking.”

Despite my dry mouth, I manage to say, “I’m too old for a spanking,” and my voice only shakes a little at the end.

“You’re too old to be lying to your piano teacher about practicing between your lessons,” she says as she sits on the bench herself, facing away from the keys. “Now, over my knee.”

She speaks with such authority that I have complied before I’ve really considered what is happening, and what is happening is her hand is landing sharply on my now upturned bottom and it hurts. My first impulse is to struggle, but I grit my teeth and stare at my taut knuckles where the tips of my fingers are pressing into the floor. It isn’t intolerable but the stinging builds rapidly. I find myself holding my breath and counting the swats, trying to see how many I can bear before I exhale suddenly. I keep losing track.

“Up up,” she says abruptly, and I am up up and back down again before I can let out the breath I was holding. Except now I am significantly less clothed, and her hand striking my bottom hurts significantly more! There is just the thin cloth of my underwear between her palm and my skin, and it is taking a bit more effort to be still. “I understand,” I say quickly between gasps, feeling my left leg twitch as she targets the lower curve of that cheek for a good long minute. “I’ll practice more.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” she says firmly above me, her concentration on my poor backside never wavering. “Not a single student in all my years has disappointed me by the end of our lessons. I do not intend you to be the first.”

I swear her pace quickens as she scolds me, and then she stops spanking abruptly. It is only to yank my underwear down. My hands rush to my face out of pure reflex, and I feel the pressure on my stomach increase as she bears more of my weight. I’m not a particularly modest person but this is so terribly intimate, and my face burns with embarrassment.

“Don’t!” I say uselessly after the fact, but her hand is already making contact with my bare skin and I didn’t realize that thin piece of fabric made such a big difference. My feet kick at the floor now, and my attention is focused on keeping my hands out of the way: a futile effort. I do manage until she picks up the hairbrush, but the moment it makes contact with my already tender bare skin, my hand shoots back like a snake. She makes a derisive sound before grabbing my wrist and securing it to the small of my back. It’s the smallest of pauses before the onslaught continues, steady and stingy and so very painful. I think about every stupid thing I did last week, every minute wasted because I was lazy and unmotivated. I feel motivated now, with my backside on fire and the firm pressure of her grip around me. “I’m sorry,” I say desperately, “I’m so sorry!”

“Sorry is good, but there are still consequences for your actions,” she says evenly, “or in this case, inactions.”

“I’m going to practice,” I squeal, “I swear, please.”

“I expect that you will,” she replies, but nothing about her tone or her pace indicates that she is at all finished with me yet. She doesn’t stop until I am certain that my bruises have bruises and unshed tears have filled my eyes. My backside throbs and a simple time signature begins to form in my head around the painful beat. I hear her reach behind me to set the hairbrush on the top of the piano, and I fear it may live there when it comes to my time here. “Up now,” she says after a moment, and I scramble up with a quick swipe of my wrist under my nose. I begin to tug at my underwear, my other hand rubbing my swollen cheeks gently, but she clucks at me sharply.

“You will find yourself in the corner until the end of your lesson today, as we cannot do much with the piano until you have practiced what we studied last lesson,” she says, pointing to the far corner of the room. There is a large plant beside it and a curtained window to the right, but the corner itself is empty.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer quietly, and slowly I shuffle that way. I push my nose against the joint and slip my hands behind me to again attempt the comfort of tender fingers on punished skin, but she doesn’t allow it.

“Hands on your head,” she says from across the room, and I obey with no show of the reluctance I feel. “Bottom out,” comes the next command, and I obey that one as well. I have never felt so small and embarrassed, and the thing I hate the most is how right she is, because I will never, not ever, show up without having practiced again.

It’s Ridiculous

Standard

“Ollie it’s already full!” Sunny shouted from the relative safety of the pool in their living room. She stood next to Jessica, both knee deep in the middle of a round inflatable pool that sat where the coffee table would usually be.  There were luau decorations all over the house and an orange cooler full of beer next to the couch. The hose from outside snaked through the living room door and was curled up on the carpet.

“Where did you even get this?” Oliver asked, eyes wide as he tried to process what was happening. Ben stood behind him, mouth open as he did the same thing.

“Amazon,” Jessica said helpfully. “And we aren’t breaking any rules! Not technically.”

“Not technically,” Oliver repeated, turning to look again at his sisters. “Not technically? What has gotten into you two?”

“You said we couldn’t leave the house and we didn’t! Mom and Dad aren’t here and we moved everything breakable and we’ll clean up after,” Sunny said, crossing her arms. She wore a floppy white sunhat with a huge blue flower on it, large sunglasses, and a yellow bikini with strings dangling from the ties at her hips.  Jessica was similarly summered, in a trendy green one piece and her own large glasses, though she slipped them off now and set them on a nearby shelf.

“You filled up a pool in the middle of the house! What were you thinking?” Oliver asked, still having trouble absorbing everything.

“It’s such a good idea! No one wants summer to end and it’s too cold outside but still pretty so we’re just going to have the party here,” Sunny said smugly. “We’ll clean up before Mom and Dad get home Monday.”

“Sunny,” Oliver said, focusing his gaze on her, “How are you going to get the water out of the pool?”

“I… ” she began confidently, but she didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “We…”

“Shit,” Ben said behind him.

“Shit,” Sunny repeated.

“Watch your mouth,” Oliver said to her sharply, and she gave him an incredulous look and gestured at Ben. Jessica elbowed her as discreetly as she could, and the youngest sibling looked at their brother’s face. He was moving past his shock.

“I want you out of the pool. Right now.”

The girls both took a step back as if on cue. “Oliver, come on, just think about it for a minute!” Sunny said, taking off her sunglasses. “It’s funny! And we didn’t hurt anything or break any rules!”

“You are both grounded! Throwing a party is breaking the rules! And this is insane, Sunny.”

“It was just on a list of creative back-to-school party ideas and we—“

Without any broadcast of his intentions, Oliver walked over and caught Sunny’s wrist before she could step farther back. She shrieked and pulled away, but with a swift jerk she was off balance and flailing to catch herself over the three foot inflatable edge of the pool. Her hat flopped. Oliver caught her around the middle and took some of her weight on his side, ignoring her hat as it fell to the ground. Jessica let out a small shriek of her own as her sister kicked up a bit of water and it splashed her middle. Oliver delivered half a dozen swats to her mostly exposed bottom; Jessica watched in shock from her front row seat as the color bloomed across Sunny’s skin.

Her hands flew to her bottom when he pulled her back up, glaring up at him as she tucked her chin against her chest. Oliver took a beach towel from the basket on a nearby chair, one which currently sported a small “Surf’s Up” banner, and tossed it on the floor. “Get out,” he said, then grabbed another towel and turned his attention to Jessica. “You…”

He walked around the living room, paying no attention as Sunny finally obeyed him, then stopped outside the pool by his other sister and dropped the second towel. “Come here, please,” he said calmly as she stayed just out of his reach.

“Ollie,” she said pleadingly, hating the thought of having to step into his grasp. He started to come around the pool, and she jumped away, then blushed. Her skittishness embarrassed her so much that she acquiesced, covering her face with one hand and stepping forward. Oliver pulled her to his side just as unceremoniously as he had Sunny, yanking her arm and then rapidly turning her bottom rosy. Her suit covered almost as little as Sunny’s, and her brother’s hand prints were clearly visible across her bottom as she stepped out of the pool seconds later.

Both of them pouted at him, but he paid no mind. “Dry off,” he ordered as he walked into the kitchen. He retrieved the familiar wooden spoon from its coffee tin and the largest pot he could find. When he walked back into the living room, he handed it to Jessica. “You can start emptying the pool.”

She looked like she wanted to protest, but didn’t have anything to say, so she took it with a pout and turned quickly around, dipping it furiously into the pool. Oliver turned to Ben, sucking in a lungful of air. “I’m so sorry, this is not what I was expecting to walk into. Obviously. Do you wanna go–”

“Anywhere. I want to go literally anywhere,” Ben said, looking relieved.

Oliver nodded, grabbing the car key from his pocket and tossing it to his boyfriend. “I’ll text you.”

Ben blew him a kiss, glanced regretfully at the girls, and turned to leave. Oliver turned to Sunny, who was still standing on her towel with her arms crossed and a pout across her face. When she saw him looking at her, she threw her arms down and began her defense. “This isn’t fair! We didn’t do anything that bad!”

“There is water everywhere, young lady. And that is just from filling it up,” Oliver said as he walked over to the cooler and sat down on the white lid. “Get over here, Sunny.”

“Ollie!” she huffed, but she did as she was told this time, closing the short gap between them and finding herself quickly positioned over his lap. He briefly contemplated taking down her swimsuit, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. It wouldn’t be necessary, though he doubted she would want to be in this suit for any reason for the next few days. Not after he was finished.

He brought his hand down hard on her bottom, soon covering any remaining fingerprints from the flurry of swats he’d given her earlier. She kicked at the floor as he spanked her, but he ignored her as always. In the meantime Jessica trudged back and forth from the living room to kitchen, dumping water out little by little and trying to ignore her sister’s spanking.

“There was a complete lack of forethought here. No one gave you permission to have people over, much less to throw a party. Even if you had the okay, this ridiculous pool scheme would have been vetoed.”

“It isn’t ridiculous!” Sunny yelled, kicking and reaching back, trying to block Oliver’s hand. Used to her antics, he pinned it easily, then reached for the wooden spoon.

“It’s ridiculous, Sunny,” he said as he brought the round end down hard on her bottom. “And delusional to think things wouldn’t get out of hand tonight. Do you know how much damage it would do if that thing leaked? Or even if just someone fell over the edge and dumped some of the water out?”

He paused the lecture and the spanking to adjust her body, moving her over one knee so his other leg could keep her flailing limbs out of the way. Low to the ground as he was on the big cooler, she was bent nearly in half as he resumed spanking her quickly heating bottom.

Her legs bucked up against his and she gasped. “Okay, Ollie, okay it was. I’m sorry,” she said, fingers stretching desperately toward her bottom but unable to reach because of Oliver’s hand around her wrist. He ignored her, knowing that it took more than a few swats to break through to his hard-headed little sister. He had not spared her thighs with his hand and was equally thorough with the spoon. Eventually the tone of her apologies changed, becoming higher and more urgent.

When he finally let her up, she dropped immediately to her knees and threw her arms around his stomach, burying her face there. Tears swam in her eyes and fell on his t-shirt.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head, spoon still in his hand. He didn’t allow her to rest there long. “Go trade places with Jessica,” he said after only a minute.

Sunny flung her head back so her long black hair trailed down her back as she looked up at him with wide reproachful eyes, but he made unrelenting eye contact and furrowed his brow at her. He put the spoon down as she stood, then rested his forearms on his knees and turned to watch their exchange. Everything still seemed wildly surreal as he watched Jessica give over the pan and Sunny accept it as her free hand sneaked down to rub her swollen bottom, all surrounded by leis and coconuts and cardboard parrots.. She bent over the edge of the pool, wincing, and set about her task.

Jessica’s mouth was turned prettily down as she shuffled over to her brother’s waiting lap. She might not squirm as much as Sunny, but her bottom didn’t fare any better under Oliver’s steady hand.

“Every time I think you girls have turned a corner, you pull something like this,” he scolded as he spanked her round behind. He paused to scoot the edges of her bathing suit out of the way, ignoring her squeal of protest. “You’d think you’d be finished sitting on a sore bottom by now.”

“Ow, I am Oliver, I am,” she said, her grip on her tongue loosening as he picked up the spoon. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, but he only increased the force of his swats.

“Well you better stop telling me and start showing me,” he said. “If you were sure this would be okay, you would have mentioned it. I am so tired of surprises.”

With that he finished up her spanking, snapping the spoon down relentlessly, until her bottom was as clearly and thoroughly punished as Sunny’s. Oliver held her for a moment after, hugging her tight and kissing the top of her head, right on the part between her two round buns. Then he sent her with a swat toward the kitchen, where she retrieved their second largest pan.

~   ~   ~

By the time the pool was empty, both girls had sore arms as well as sore bottoms. He hadn’t let them change out of their suits until every decoration had been cleaned up and the pool had been dragged outside and deflated. They had been quick about that part, terrified the wondering eye of a neighbor was going to catch them clearly spanked and in their bathing suits as they desperately waited for the pump to finish. Then at last he watched them march their sore bottoms upstairs, where they changed into their pajamas and sent a few quick texts to friends, making sure the word spread: The party was canceled.

They came back down much subdued, and if they cast any gloomy looks, they wiped their faces clean of them when Oliver seemed to notice.

It was still early, and when Ben came back it was with bags of fast food and several half pints of ice cream. He hadn’t wasted his time away. Oliver smiled affectionately at him, not even pretending to be irritated or surprised that he now wanted to spoil his punished sisters. They canceled their evening plans, opting to stay at the house until later, and rented a movie with the girls instead.