All I Want for Christmas

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Emma smiled up at Danny from beneath the glow of their newly decorated tree.

“Looks perfect,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. She bit her lip, an impish gleam in her eye. “Know what we’re missing?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her and said, “We cut our own tree. We made and drank mulled cider. We listened to Mariah Carey. What could we possibly be missing?”

Emma disentangled herself from his arm and walked toward the dormant hearth below the tv in their living room. “A fire!” she said, her arm sweeping back in a grand gesture.

”Ah,” said Danny. “I see you have absorbed too much Christmas cheer and now have unrealistic expectations about how this evening is going to proceed.”

Emma could hear that he was being playful and saying no at the same time. Her bottom lip protruded and she said “I’m serious. I want a fire!”

Danny considered her for a moment, but his answer didn’t change. “Not tonight, baby. It’s not really cold enough out for one, but we also haven’t used the fireplace since last February. I’ll have someone come this week and clear the chimney, if you’re ready for us to start using it this season.”

”I’m ready right now,” she pouted, crossing her arms.

”Ready for bed, I think,” Danny said, slipping easily into his no-nonsense voice. “We’re not going to end this lovely day with a tantrum.”

Emma opened her mouth to reply, then thought better of it. She nodded as her jaw snapped shut, even managing a small smile. Tonight clearly wasn’t an option., but Danny would be gone tomorrow afternoon and as far as Emma was concerned, she hadn’t agreed to anything.

~   ~   ~

The fire made everything perfect, just as Emma had pictured. They had a modest woodpile outside, and she’d had to swallow her excitement as she waited for Danny to leave for his last meeting of the semester. She knew he wouldn’t be thrilled with her, but had just about convinced herself that he would be okay as long as everything went according to plan— and it did!

She thought he was just being paranoid, and blamed the lack of a real fire in his childhood home. Emma had none of the same reservations, and had built the fire with ease and confidence.

Somehow, she didn’t quite grasp how unhappy he would be until the moment she heard his keys in the door. A mild panic descended as her brain screamed, “This was a mistake! A huge mistake!”

It was too late to fix it now. Danny was walking inside, laying his briefcase on the kitchen table, and walking in her direction. “Wait,” she squeaked, “look first, look first! It all turned out fine.”

To her surprise, he did stop. His jaw twitched, but after a second he spoke. “Emma Grace, go find a corner.”

“But Danny the tree—“

“Find. A different. Corner.”

Emma glanced around the room, deciding speed was better than precision, and walked to the corner opposite the tree. There was a speaker there, but she got as close as she could and then put her hands behind her back.

A moment later, she heard Danny walking upstairs, then almost immediately back down. That meant one thing.

The hairbrush.

~   ~   ~

It was beside him on the couch when he called her over, and she winced reflexively.  “Walk faster,” Danny said as she inched her way toward him, and Emma sped up. Once at his knee, he looked up at her disapprovingly.

“I can’t believe I have to put you across my knee this close to Christmas, and for something so childish.”

“Aww, Danny,” Emma said, blushing and tugging at the hem of her sweater. “I just knew it would be okay…”

“You thought it would be okay. You hoped it would be okay. You knew that I asked you to wait.”

“Okay, but—“

“You were supposed to put your corner time to better purpose.  I’ll check in again when I think you are feeling less argumentative.” With that, Danny reached up and took a hold of Emma’s wrist, pulling her across his waiting lap. Her skirt fell high around her stomach and her tights found themselves mid-thigh in short order. Danny’s hand crashed down on her panties, a blue pair with white snowflakes that had been picked with deliberate cheer just that morning.

Now Emma gave no thought to her undergarments, distracted as she was by the crack of Danny’s palm on her bottom. She soon pushed her own palms against his thigh, straining against the spanking.

Dan paid no mind to her discomfort as he began to question her, leading her slowly down the path to its inevitable conclusion: contrition alongside the hairbrush.  He was, as a rule, taken with Emma’s seemingly endless practical knowledge (she’d taught him how to build a proper fire when they’d first rented the house).  But his admiration of her skills did not extend to her impulsive need for immediate results.  He would have listened if she’d wanted to make a case that morning, and made his own case if she’d been willing to hear it.

But that wasn’t what had happened, and now Emma was squirming and kicking by the light of the fire she’d built and the tree they had cut.  They were a mostly silent audience, paying no mind when Danny eventually lowered his girlfriend’s underwear, or later when he picked up the brush.  The smack of the wood on Emma’s bottom was different, and her protests changed dramatically, but the crackle of the fire and the silence of the Virginia pine remained the same.

“What was the rush, little girl?” Danny finally asked, slowing the steady stream of swats as he awaited her answer.

Sore and increasingly sorry, Emma said, “There wasn’t one!  I just wanted it and I’m sorry!”

Danny brought the brush down harder, ensuring that she’d feel the effects of this spanking well into tomorrow, and said “Never acceptable.  You will abide by the rules we set or you will convince me to change them.  There is no third option.  Is that understood?”

“It’s understood, Danny!  It is, it is!” Emma said finally flinging her hand back to cover her aching bottom.  It was snatched up in short order, just as the hairbrush began to land with more frequency on her sit spots.  No amount of kicking seemed to distract the wooden implement from its intended target, and no amount of apologizing seemed to slow Danny down.

Of course, he was listening to her every moan, groan, and plea. And when he felt confident that she was as regretful now as she’d been impetuous before, he did put the  hairbrush down.  He adjusted her underwear, then moved to tug her tights back up. She growled somewhat pitifully at his movement, and he left them be with a smile.  Moments later she was tugging them off as she sat on his lap.  They fell from her toes and she curled into his chest, attempting to put more weight on her hip than her bottom.

Danny helped her balance, kissed her forehead, and said “All finished, baby.  And regardless of whether you should have or not, you did build a beautiful fire.”

Emma grunted into his chest, rubbed her bottom, and said, “So did you, I guess.”

Silence followed as Danny registered her joke.  Emma didn’t see him roll his eyes, but she felt his chest rise as he tried to stifle his laughter.  She smiled, getting the proof she always needed that she was forgiven.  And of course, finally– things really were perfect.

 

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Bath Aftermath

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Want to know about how Edith ended up in this predicament? Check out part one.

Edith shut the door behind her and then leaned back against it, wedging her left hand between her throbbing bottom and the wood while the other clutched the towel around her chest. She looked nervously over at Paul. He stood by the window and had turned at her entrance. Both of his cuffs were undone now, his collar unbuttoned, his shoes and socks off.

His expression softened a little at her anxious, red-rimmed eyes. He suspected there were many more tears in her future. He glanced at the clock, then looked sternly at her.

”Fifteen minutes, Edith. That’s how long it took you to finish the dishes that have been out for two days now. But that isn’t even the thing I’m most upset about, is it?”

She flushed and her grip around her towel tightened and she looked at the floor as she shook her head “no.”

“I can’t hear your head shake,” Paul said sharply.  “And look at me.”

She dragged her eyes up to his and said, “No sir,” before returning her gaze downward.

Paul walked over to her, cupped her face in his hand, and forced her to look up. “You lied to me.”

Edith began to shake her head, blurting out “I didn’t!” as she forced her eyes to go wide at the accusation.  Paul’s grip on her chin tightened enough to keep her head still.

“You are too smart to play dumb.  You deliberately misled me.  I realized it as soon as I walked in.  What was the line you used?”

Tears welled up in her eyes and Edith look at the ceiling, blinking rapidly.  Paul released her face, moving his hands back to his hips.  “I’m sure you remember it, young lady.”

She took a deep breath and answered, “I told you there were no more dishes in the sink.”

“Mhmm.  You failed to mention that you had just stacked them on the counter.”

“But I was getting ready to…”

Paul cut her off.  “No more excuses.  I know you meant to have them done before I got home, but what you meant to do and what you did are not the same.  And you tried to lawyer yourself out of giving me a straight answer.  I don’t like that.  Go ahead and get dressed, and then I want you over the bed.”

Edith let out a low moan, glancing over to see the short stack of pillows he had put out. “But Paul…” she started helplessly.

”But Edith. Do you want to be spanked with a bar of soap in your mouth? Because that can be arranged.”

”No! No sir I don’t,” she said quickly. Unable to help herself, she added quietly, “It’s just… you already spanked me really hard…”

He nodded at her. “I did. Now I would like you to do what I asked. Quietly.”

With another low hum of reproach, Edith slipped on her night shirt.  She pulled out a pair of underwear, glancing at Paul.  He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and she put them back in the drawer. She climbed over the pillows, which made her perpendicularly oriented on the bed. Soon her bottom was in the air and her feet dangled over the edge; she folded her hands and rested her cheek against them.

As soon as she was in position, Edith felt Paul’s presence behind her. She burrowed her face into the comforter as he traced the evidence of the bathbrush with his fingertips. Even the gentle touches hurt, and she had no idea how she was going to take another spanking when her bottom already ached so much.  He then stepped back, and she felt the cool touch of leather against the back of her thighs. Her whole body seemed to go rigid and into the blanket she said “Oh no no no no no…”

But the strap came down anyway.

It turned out that she didn’t need to worry about her backside much at all.  Although the occasional lick made its way across her cheeks, Paul was giving the bulk of his attention to her thighs.  The swats were crisp, neat, and quick, and she made all sorts of noises as he laid into her.  “Feet on the floor,” he said when they lifted so high as to block his swing.  She complied immediately but after a dozen more, they were back up.  “Edith,” he growled.

“Paul,” she wailed, “it hurts so much.”  He could see her trying to force her legs down, getting halfway and then jerking them back up.  “Six more,” he said.  Having a number gave her the power to push her toes back into the floor.  These were harder, slower licks.  When the last one rang out, he placed the strap on the bed and planted his left hand on the small of her back.  “Paul Paul Paul!!!” she screeched, but he paid her no mind as he started spanking her with his hand.

“I expect you to do your best not to procrastinate.  I expect you to do your best to get whatever chores you need to do done.”  His palm, usually her favorite thing to feel against her backside, lit up every tender punished nerve; he seemed indiscriminate as he spanked her bottom and thighs.  “But I also expect you to screw those up sometimes.  We all do.  What I will not tolerate–” he threw his leg over hers as she began to thrash around, though she kept her hands up front, “is deceitfulness.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes!  Yes sir I understand I understand.”

“Good,” he said quietly.  He spent the next minute going back over his handiwork one last time, putting the muscles of his arm to good use as he finished her spanking.  Finally, he slipped his leg off of hers.  He leaned back on the bed, laying next to Edith.  She had her face down in the bedspread and her shoulders shook.  He kissed her temple and gently tugged her toward him.

Without looking at him, she slid down off the bed and grabbed for the tissues from the nightstand. She blew her nose, taking deep shuddery breaths in between, then tossing them in the bin.  Then she did look at him, and he beckoned her with his hand.  She crawled back onto the bed and pressed herself against him, half on top of him with her head on his chest.  He stroked her hair and rubbed her arm, and eventually she whispered “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said, kissing the top of her head.  “And it won’t happen again.  At least not for a long time.”

He smiled as he felt her nodding, and squeezed her a little tighter.

Post-Thanksgiving

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Emma smiled from the kitchen as Ben and Oliver let themselves in the front door. She faltered at the sour expression on Ben’s face, though Oliver seemed fine. She was in the middle of putting together a plate of sandwiches for lunch, but stopped to rinse her hands and greet them.

”Hi,” she said brightly as they exchanged hugs. “Did you survive the holidays?”

”Survived is a good word,” Oliver said, smiling. “But yes, we did. My sisters are obsessed with Ben, so they spent the weekend doting on him.”

”Hey Em,” Ben said as he put an arm around her.

”Doted on, huh? Why are you in a mood then?” Danny said as he came downstairs. He looked over the top of his glasses at his little brother, who glowered back. Emma squeezed his middle protectively.  “Leave him alone, they just got here.”

Danny held up his hands in a gesture of acquiescence as he moved to the living room area and picked up the remote. “Alright, but it’s radiating off of him. Plus I got a string of grumpy texts already this morning.”

She looked up at Ben, quirking a worried eyebrow.  He rolled his eyes, squeezing her shoulders, then said quietly as they parted, “Oliver is just all over me.”

From near the TV, Oliver said over his shoulder, “He’s had this attitude since yesterday and I let it slide until this morning.  We’ll see if he can make it through today without ending up over my lap.  Or Danny’s,” he added as an afterthought.

“Hmph,” Emma objected as she headed back toward the kitchen end of the big room.  Ben followed, stewing.  Danny raised an eyebrow at his little brother, but he wasn’t watching.  Soon a football game was on, and they gathered in the living room with beer and sandwiches.  Emma did have to admit that Ben’s mood was overtaking the room.  She spent much of the afternoon forcing exaggerated laughs and manufacturing abrupt subject changes to mask Ben’s constant pokes and prods at Oliver. He was even short with Danny a few times.  Once he had said something so rude that she was sure it was the end; she’d spilled a drink on purpose before Oliver could say anything, all over his lap.

That had earned her a look and a crooked finger from Danny.  Ben went with Oliver to find new pants in Dan’s closet; she scooted nervously over toward his arm chair from where she had been sitting on the carpet, eating tortilla chips from the bowl on the coffee table.  He had leaned in close and pressed his forehead to hers, while reaching up to loosely grasp her earlobes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Enough, Emma.  You aren’t going to keep Ben from finding trouble if he’s determined to keep looking for it.  You’re just digging yourself in, too.”

“I didn’t do any–” she protested, pulling her head back.  He tightened his grip slightly on her ears and she froze.

“We will talk about dumping drinks on people later. Let’s not have to talk about fibbing, too.”

“Okay,” she whispered, and he released her with a quick kiss atop her head.  She scooted back toward the coffee table, trying to will the heat in her face to die down before the boys returned.  She thought she’d been subtle with the spill, but of course Danny noticed and of course he wouldn’t let it slide.

She wanted to protest just on principal, but she would wait until the other couple left. They were back just a moment later, Oliver in a pair of Danny’s red plaid pajama pants and his pants in the dryer.  Ben looked a bit flushed himself, Emma thought.  She appreciated what she considered their mutual pact of silence on the matter as she reached for another chip.

They made it through an entire quarter before Ben said something else that crossed a line for Oliver.  She hadn’t even caught it, having been into the game for a minute.  But she caught the shift in energy as Oliver stood from the couch behind her.  “Excuse us,” he said. “We need to borrow your guest room please.”

“Oliver!” Emma and Ben exclaimed at the same time.  Oliver turned his attention to Emma first, his hands on his hips as he looked down at her.  “Would you like to join us?” he asked in the same no-nonsense tone.

“Danny!” she whined, turning to her boyfriend.  He looked directly back at her and said, “Danny would like you to answer Oliver’s question, young lady.”

Emma’s bottom lip protruded as she pouted up at Oliver and said quietly, “No sir.”

“How come I don’t get a choice?!” Ben said huffily.

“Move it, little boy,” Oliver said as he began walking toward the spare room, barely acknowledging the question.  Ben looked mutinous, but he stalked after his boyfriend after only a minute.  Once she heard the bedroom door shut, Emma stomped her feet rapidly against the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees as her slippers pitter-pattered against the carpet.

“Emma,” Danny growled, “don’t let Ben’s bad day ruin yours, too.”

On the heels of his warning came the first loud smacking sound from the door by the kitchen.  Emma’s shoulders sagged; she didn’t want her friend to be in trouble but she hadn’t been able to save him.  And her slate now had a little smudge on it.  “C’mere,” Danny said more gently.  She scooted over again, but this time pressed her back against his shins.  She could hear Ben’s muffled protest noises along with the spanking now.

Danny leaned forward and rubbed her arms.  “He’ll feel better after.  He always does.”

“I suppose,” she replied, fingers picking at an invisible speck of dust on her knee.

The wails increased sharply and Emma winced.  She was confident Oliver had just relieved Ben of his pants and probably underwear.  He’d lowered her panties when he’d spanked her– she covered her face with her hands without meaning to, embarrassed at the memory– so she couldn’t imagine Ben receiving the luxury of undergarments.

The next change in pitch made Emma turn, hair flying as she looked accusingly up at Danny, who was watching the game as if there wasn’t a spanking going on right then and there.  “Did you leave a hairbrush in the guest room?” she hissed.

Dan gave her a look that said clearly, stand down.  Emma pursed her lips, but forced herself to relax, shrinking down a bit but still watching him expectantly.  After another beat of silence, he said “No, I did not.  He probably grabbed a spoon on the way.”

“Oh,” Emma squeaked, whirling back around as her heart began to race.  Of course he had.  He had used a wooden spoon on her right here in the living room.  The sound of Ben’s spanking pulled her back out of the memory again, though she wasn’t sure which was less mortifying: the past or the present.  Having been spanked alongside Ben more than once, her brain seemed to fill in the gaps around his escalating noises.  She couldn’t stop herself from picturing him, kicking and struggling and undoubtedly pinned across Oliver’s lap at this point.  He never took a spanking gracefully, as far as she knew.

She counted one more minute on the game clock before the sounds ceased; it had been forever in real time.  The abrupt quiet made the fans on the television seem to roar their excitement.

The next game had started before Oliver and Ben rejoined them.  Emma had refreshed their drinks and put out new snacks in the meantime, needing to use her nervous energy somehow.  Oliver reached over from the couch and ruffled her hair affectionately.  “Thank you,” he said, gesturing with his new beer.

“Thank you,” Ben echoed a second after, shooting a watery smile in her direction.  She smiled back, noticing without meaning to how gingerly he was sitting now; she was able to stop her sympathetic wince just in time.  At least he was sitting next to Oliver now, instead of alone on the other arm chair.  They were snuggled right up together, as a matter of fact.  Her smile became a little bit more genuine, and she turned her attention back toward the TV for the end of the game.

~   ~   ~

“You look awfully cozy for a little girl about to get a spanking,” Danny said from the bathroom that evening as he turned out the light.

Emma frowned up at him from their bed, crossing her arms, paperback tucking effortlessly under her left bicep. He could almost see the wheels turning in her brain, the search for a strategy. He had to keep the smile from his lips when he saw her decide.

Her eyes widened and she nodded up at him solemnly. “I am so cozy. Do you really have to spank me?”

He walked toward her, dabbing his freshly washed face with a small towel before tossing it at the hamper. He sat and placed his hands alongside her thighs, which rested together underneath the blanket. “I really have to spank you. Or at least, I’m really going to spank you.”

Emma uncrossed her arms heatedly, the pages of her book fluttering as her attitude shifted and she said, “Well that should be up to Oliver and not you anyway!”

Danny raised an eyebrow, no smile teasing his lips now. “Would you like to tell him that you did that on purpose?” He could practically see the heat rush up Emma’s face as she imagined having to admit such a thing, but he didn’t let her off. “Because I don’t hate the idea. I imagine that would be a rather difficult apology, and I’m sure you’d still end up with a sore bottom.”

His girlfriend pursed her lips, looking down determinedly at her nightstand. He didn’t really think it necessary to force an apology; it was over and he knew Emma’s intentions had been pure, if ill-thought out. They sat in heavy silence for a moment, and then– still without looking at him– she flung herself up and across Danny’s lap. She buried her face in her hands as he adjusted her slightly, sliding her long nightshirt up to the small of her back.

Danny tilted his head as he contemplated his next move. As much as he appreciated Emma’s sudden acquiescence, it had left him in a funny position– he was left handed and she was laying the wrong way. With a shrug, Danny wrapped his left arm around her middle and used his right to pull her underwear down to mid-thigh. It wasn’t going to be a long spanking. He could manage.

She squealed when his hand landed, and was kicking her feet soon after. Her face didn’t leave her palms, but he didn’t need to see her face to know he was having an effect. Danny’s right hand felt the same to her as any other spanking he’d give her. He didn’t miss a spot, even when he lectured her. “You’re lucky Oliver was paying such close attention to Ben and not you, or I imagine it would have been you and that wooden spoon in the guest room.”

“Ow, I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Emma squealed, hands finally flying back to tuck themselves under Danny’s thigh. She felt the tangle of her underwear as they worked themselves down to her knees, and wondered if she had underestimated the kind of trouble she was in. Relief came just a moment later, though, as Danny slowed and then stopped the spanking.

Soon after, Emma was back under the covers. She looked as cozy as she had before, but of course her sore bottom wasn’t visible to the casual observer. She wouldn’t have described herself as cozy now, but she did feel… better. She’d felt guilty about the impulse to soak Oliver the moment it had happened. Now she felt lighter.

She noticed Danny shaking his hand on his way to bed. She looked up at him, puzzled, and he smiled ruefully at her as he pulled down the covers. “I’m not right-handed. I haven’t given out many spankings that way.”

“Oh no!” Emma giggled. “I wasn’t even thinking. Why didn’t you ask me to move?”

“I knew I could get the job done,” he said with a wink, climbing into bed.

Emma rolled her eyes affectionately, but Danny didn’t see. She was busy snuggling up against him as he reached over to turn out the light.

This Is Your Captain Speaking

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Roland stepped out of the cockpit, smile planted firmly on his face, and joined Sharon, the head flight attendant, as she said goodbye to deplaning passengers. They began their usual habit of conversing between polite greetings, with Roland speaking under his breath first, “What’s the story with Nate? I heard you fussing at him earlier..”

Sharon was too professional to let her annoyance show, but Roland could hear it in her muttered reply.

“He ignored the seatbelt directive. Again.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“I tell him to sit down and he does, but I am tired of being his caretaker. I’m afraid that boy has to learn things the hard way.”

“Which means elbowing someone in the face one of these days.”

“He’ll be lucky if he loses his job first,” Sharon said. Roland knew she held some affection for Nate, just as he did. The kid was fresh out of school and could charm the leaves off tree. But Roland needed to be able to trust his crew to listen, and Nate was coming up short in that department.

For a minute there were only the sounds of shuffling passengers and “thank you” and “have a good one.” Then the last person was off and out loud Roland said, “I’ll handle it.”

Sharon raised an eye eyebrow at him, but said only “Alright, Captain. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

Roland rolled his eyes as he always did when Sharon called him captain. They had worked together for almost fifteen years and were more friends than colleagues. “Just see to it that I have twenty minutes of empty on here.”

“Will do, Roland. Will do.”

~ ~ ~

The co-pilot had been around long enough not to question Roland when he asked her to take a lap around the terminal. She wondered who was in trouble, and winced at the memory of her own first days working with him. He didn’t have a lot of patience for cocky new pilots, and he hadn’t hesitated to straighten her out. She resisted the urge to rub her bottom. Not her problem today, she thought, taking her leave.

Roland walked down the aisle, stopping when he came to the two fold-up seats facing the back of the plane. They were intended specifically for the crew to use during turbulence; considering his intentions for Nate, it seemed like the appropriate place to stop.

Eventually the younger man began to walk toward the exit, finishing whatever tedium Sharon had set him on to keep him there. He stopped when he saw Roland, and said “Oh! Hi sir.”

Usually Roland shrugged off any sign of deference, but the “sir” felt right in this moment. “Hello, Nathanial. We need to have a talk.”

The kid somehow seemed both bashful and brazen as he immediately responded. “I promise I wasn’t unsafe today, I just needed to grab a couple things from the back, and we had a passenger having issues with his headphones, and—“

Roland held out a silencing hand, and Nate shut his mouth. Roland let the silence be felt and then said “I misspoke. We don’t need to have a talk. I need you to listen. And not talk. Unless it is to answer me. Is that clear?”

Nate gaped at the captain, unable to speak at first. Eventually the words worked themselves out though, and the boy said “Yes sir.”

“Good,” Roland said with a nod. “You ought to know by now that I run a tight crew. Every person of this team is valuable, you as much as me as much as anyone else.

“And we all have a place in this little ecosystem, Nathanial. Who is at the top of the pecking order on this crew?” he asked sharply at the end.

“You are, sir,” Nate answered without hesitation.

“That is correct. I both fly this plane and have been here the longest. I happen to believe seniority counts for a lot. Anyone who can keep a hold of their position on this crew has earned it.

“And so where does that rank you?”

A blush spread up Nate’s neck, creeping slowly across his face until it reached his hairline. He thought about his mere months on the job, and answered sheepishly, “At the bottom, sir.”

Roland nodded, then continued speaking. “Unfortunately the verbal reminders you have gotten from myself and the other senior members on board don’t seem to stick with you, young man. Which is a shame, because I would rather not have had to resort to such measures. But I do see a lot of potential in you, Nate, and I want you to succeed.”

Heat poured out of Nate’s shirt collar as he squeaked out, “What sort of measures, sir?”

A grim smile crossed the captain’s face before he answered, “I am sure the rumors have reached your ears by now, but I understand wanting confirmation. I would want that, too.

“In just a moment, I am going to put you across my knee and give you a spanking. I will only be using my hand, but I’m afraid those slacks and whatever underwear you have on underneath will be coming down. I want you to remember this spanking and do your best to avoid another one in the near future.”

Nate swallowed hard, once and then again before he said quietly, “And if I refuse?”

“You can refuse. You can submit for a transfer, and you can find another crew to work with. I will give an honest answer when they call for a reference. I’ll let them know I see a lot of potential.”

“And if I don’t refuse?” Nate asked, practically whispering.

“Then we will take care of this right here and now. The plane is empty and no one will interrupt. Being the captain does have some perks. But I need an answer now. Before the next scheduled flight.”

Roland watched Nate’s eyes dart up the aisle and back, as if hoping for some sort of reprieve, but of course none came. He worried at the inside of his bottom lip for a moment; Roland could see his jaw moving slightly. After a few seconds he said, “Okay.”

“Yes, sir,” Roland corrected him firmly.

“Yes sir,” Nate repeated.

“Let’s get this done then, shall we?” said Roland. “Undo your belt and pull your pants down please.”

With trembling fingers, Nate did as he was told. As his belt finally jingled open, Roland placed his foot on the cushion of the seat. As the younger man’s pants fell to the floor, the captain reached out and grabbed Nate by the arm and pulled him swiftly over and across his waiting knee. Nate’s feet lifted as his stomach hit Roland’s thigh and his center of gravity changed. Roland soon had him snugly tucked under one arm as his other patted the boy’s bottom, which was covered by a pair of black briefs.

“Brave,” he said approvingly, though he began to turn the pats into swats as he spoke. “I am glad you are going to stay with us, Nathaniel.”

With that, he began to spank the errant flight attendant in earnest. Nate kicked his feet, constrained though he was by the pants around his ankles, and made small sounds and grunts as the captain made sure his palm covered every inch of Nate’s bottom. When the boy started wiggling, Roland only held him tighter and continued to bring his hand down with painful accuracy. The lower swats that caught the exposed curve of Nate’s bottom elicited particularly satisfying yelps, which pleased Roland.

He paused after several minutes, taking note of Nate’s rapidly beating heart and the deep belly breathing that Roland could feel against his thigh. No use dragging it out, he thought, as he grabbed the band of Nate’s underwear and slid them down his legs to join the boys’ pants.

Again his palm made contact, this time with the freshly heated flesh of Nate’s freshly heated bottom, and the boy squealed and gave up some of his purchase by throwing a hand back in a poor attempt to block the spanking. Roland was unfazed as he captured the reaching wrist and pinned it to the small of Nate’s back.

Now the rookie flight attendant was bent nearly in half, his feet kicking and whines constant as Roland spanked his hot bottom. The older man watched his hand connect a few times, noting the way the boy’s bottom flattened under his palm, and then he began to speak again.

“When I tell you to sit down and buckle up, that is what I expect you to do. In fact, when any higher ranking member of this crew gives you an order, I expect you to follow it. Is that understood?”

“Understood sir, understood!” came the frantic reply from below. Nate had no control of his kicking legs and felt entirely powerless at the moment. When the captain next asked who would be considered ranking members against Nate, he strained but said “Everyone! All of them. Everyone ranks higher.”

Roland knew they were close to finished. He secured his arm around the young man’s waist a bit more firmly, and finished the spanking with several dozen searing swats. Nate howled through all of them.

When Roland righted the boy again there were big unshed tears in the flight attendant’s eyes. Roland turned politely away, giving the him a moment to pull up his underwear and fix his pants. He ignored the sniffles he heard and the quick pass of a shirt sleeve under the boy’s nose. Then he turned, clapping his warm hand on Nate’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

“I believe we understand each other?”

“Yes, sir,” Nate answered shakily.

“Good. Very good. Time to prepare the cabin for our next departure. I don’t expect to have any problems on this next flight.”

“You won’t, sir.”

“Or any others,” Roland added, almost as an afterthought. “But we can deal with those flights when they come.” He released the boy’s shoulder with another squeeze, and was amused to see that the back of the kid’s hands were pressed against the seat of his pants. Roland guessed it was as subtle a gesture as Nate could manage, and decided to give him a moment of privacy before the rest of the crew came back.

“I believe we have another few minutes. I am going to make my way back to the cockpit. Wash your face, and I will see you upon landing.”

“Yes sir,” Nate answered one last time, and Roland turned and made his way back to the front of the plane.

Stay Away

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Michelle had come back to the cemetery. She knew she shouldn’t be here, knew her friends would be furious, but she just… she needed to know.

“You shouldn’t be here…”

Michelle whipped around, but she was alone.  It was the same voice they had heard before, a note of sternness apparent even with the ghostly filter.

”I warned you before…”

She spun again, sure there would be a woman standing there this time, but… no, just endless rows of weathered marble and granite. She thought back to the last time she had been here. A year ago, tonight. They had heard the same voice, all of them. The voice had told them to run, and they had listened.

It has begun to feel so far away though, and her friends refused to talk about it. After a few months, Michelle gave up trying to make them. She began the process of convincing herself it had all been her imagination.

”No more warnings…”

This time the voice was right behind her; she could feel the breath on her neck, and it felt real enough. Before she could turn, a gust of wind blew in out of nowhere, much like it had as they had beelined for the safety of the gate, except this time she was alone.

Michelle screamed as her skirt went flying up. She grabbed for the gray wool as a cascade of dead leaves danced at her feet. She stumbled, lost her footing, and fell across the low branch of a dead dogwood.

Her hands flew forward, but no sooner had her palms landed on the wet dirt than she felt an awful pain across her bottom.  She shrieked again, but the voice cut her off:

”Hush. There are much worse things here than me, and I can’t keep them away forever. I said stay AWAY!”

A jolt of power infused the voice on the last word. Michelle wiggled and kicked as the invisible woman delivered a very real spanking to her upturned bottom. The sound of her palm landing on Michelle’s backside was nearly drowned out by the thunder rolling in the distance, but Michelle could hear them.

More than that, Michelle could feel them.  Her thin underwear had ridden up as she struggled, and she knew she must look wild with her bottom in the air and her fingers unable to gain purchase.

How she looked, of course, was of little concern to Michelle in that moment. What she felt was the hard, persistent sting of a weathered palm. Her bottom began to throb before long, and she wailed when the force seemed to concentrate for several minutes on the crease between her bottom and thighs.

Everything ended as abruptly as it had begun. Lightning flashed and this time it was close by; the peal of thunder shook the rotting branch. Suddenly she was able to move again, and she wasted no time.  She scrambled off the tree branch, eyes wide and bottom smarting, clutching her skirt and looking back over her shoulder as she ran. She didn’t stop running until she made it home.

~   ~   ~

Later that night, as she ran a bath, she climbed up on the counter by the sink. She had removed her skirt, and now pulled her panties slowly down. Awkwardly she knelt, looking over her shoulder at the colors blossoming across her backside. In two places, she thought she could make out the tips of several fingers.

She touched the bruises gingerly and winced. It didn’t matter if her friends wouldn’t talk about it. This wasn’t a voice in the wind. This? She pressed, then sucked in a breath at the instant increase of pain.

This was real.

Bath Interrupted

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Edith gasped when the bathroom door flew open.  She looked up, eyes wider as a brief moment of terror subsided and was replaced with an entirely different sort of fear.  Fight or flight instincts were turned into “oh shit oh shit oh shit.”  This was no intruder.

Her fingers wrapped around her glass of whiskey and her toes curled, invisible beneath bath water that had been dyed purple by a lavender scented bath bomb.

Paul spotted her phone and paused the audiobook that had covered the sounds of him coming home. When his eyes refocused on her, Edith couldn’t maintain his gaze.  She looked down at the gently sloshing water.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hello, Edith,” Paul replied as he stepped closer, squatted down, and held out his hand.  Timidly, she handed him her glass and then the little Bluetooth speaker on the soap shelf.  He took both and placed them on the sink, then returned and sat on the edge of the tub, where he began to roll up the cuff of his right shirtsleeve.  Edith took a deep breath, feeling a bit like a mouse in a trap now.

The tub wasn’t really big enough for lounging, but it’s what was available and she had wanted a bath. Paul didn’t mind what she was doing; it was what she hadn’t done.  It was the pile of dishes that had been cluttering the sink for two days now.  It was her saying, “No I’ll take care of them, don’t touch them, I just need to do it,” and “I swear I’m going to, I just got busy,” and finally today, when he had decided enough was enough, “Okay okay, yes sir.”

And he had left it at that.  He didn’t give too many direct orders and she didn’t break too many of them.  Even now, he knew that she was counting on him being home much later, and so was still procrastinating.  She hadn’t intended to disobey.  But he didn’t put too much stock in intention.

“Come here,” he said sternly.

She had, up until that point, been pressing herself against the back of the small fiberglass tub.  Distance seemed like the safer choice right now, but defiance wasn’t an option when he was this quiet. She bit her lip as she slid slowly down, the water barely moving.  He raised his eyebrows and she flushed, then got to her knees in front of him.  The warm water came up to the middle of her thighs, and she thought she had never felt so small.

For once, though, Paul didn’t make her sit with her embarrassment. He was too irritated, and so wasted no time now. He gripped her bicep with his left hand and pulled her out of the water. She gasped as her stomach hit the edge of the tub and her hands grabbed at the towel she had folded on the floor. And now his hand was off her arm, now resting on the small of her back, now keeping her in place as his right hand landed on her wet upturned bottom.

Her body was bent neatly in half, and she felt his displeasure rock through her with every swat. She tried to concentrate on anything else: the cooling sensation as her torso dried, the boom of her spanking in the small space, the grout of the floor tiles that now lay inches from her nose.

Nothing worked for long, but in time her squealing subsided as the initial sting faded and she became accustomed to the thud of his palm.  Paul sensed the shift though, and her peace was short-lived.

“Don’t you move,” he said. Edith covered her face with her hands and nodded into them, mortified to be stuck in such a vulnerable position.

Edith heard the sudden rush of water leaving the bath as he pulled the plug, then felt him stand briefly and sit again. She figured out what was happening seconds before the stingy plastic of the bathbrush landed squarely on her left cheek, and she shrieked. If she hadn’t been so loud herself, she would have heard the small satisfied noise he made at this.

Edy had struggled to keep her legs still before, and now she lost that battle entirely.  Paul didn’t even like the plastic brush, which was why he had let it live in the shower. There was no denying its effectiveness though, he thought, as he watched her body wiggle. Small purple waves rippled across the tub, growing smaller every second as the water drained. He didn’t stop spanking her until the last little funnel of water had disappeared and he could hear sobs catching in her throat.

He stood again, hung up the brush, and told her to stand. She did, and he was satisfied to see her tears reversing course as she found herself righted.

She shivered and he saw her hands pressed against her sides, wanting desperately to rub her now swollen bottom.  He thumbed a fresh tear from her cheek and then rested his hand on the back of her neck as they made eye contact.

”Rinse off. Finish the dishes. Meet me in the bedroom.”

She made a pitiful sound of consent, otherwise standing completely still and resisting the urge to ask for more comfort. She wanted it desperately, but she wouldn’t get it until the punishment was over— and he had just made it clear that it wasn’t over at all.

He nodded, released her neck, and left the bathroom. After a pause, she reached slowly over to close the nylon curtain. She sniffled as she turned on the water, adjusted the shower head, and wondered what was going to happen in the bedroom.

Are you as curious as Edith? Check out part two here.

 

Checking In

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Ellen pursed her lips as she surveyed the backyard, which was littered with solo cups, ping pong balls, and wet towels.  The morning sun caught on a piece of glass near the pool edge, the remnants of a shattered Bud Light bottle.  She turned to her boyfriend, Jason, and said, “I’m gonna kill her.”

“Erin Joy Connolly!” she yelled as she walked inside the house, Jason following.  Ellen had come over to check up on her younger sister, who had their parents’ house to herself for the weekend.  They were away, but Ellen lived close by and had promised to stop in.  Erin had texted Ell the day before, letting her know that her best friend would be spending the night.  No big deal, as far as Ellen was concerned. Cassidy had spent as many nights at the Connollys as she had in her own home growing up.  She was practically family and currently sleeping on the sofa in the living room.

Erin stirred as Ellen barged in, unwinding from her curled-up position in the large leather armchair where she’d slept.  Her bleary eyes flew open as she registered Ellen’s presence.

“Cassidy! Erin! Up!” the older girl continued, slamming her palm down loudly on the coffee table several times. “Wake up!”

Erin saw Jason standing behind Ellen, hands on his hips and a bemused smile on his face as he took in the situation.  He shook his head from side to side, and Erin thought he might have let out a cartoony-doomed whistle on her behalf if Ellen wasn’t so fired up.  She felt a rush of heat travel up her neck at his presence.

“You, move it,” she heard Ellen say to her, and soon the younger girls were sitting on the couch together amid a pile of blankets.  They both wore overlarge t-shirts, the remnants of last night’s make-up, and worried expressions.  Ellen towered over them, hands on her hips and her own expression forbidding. “What happened?” she ground out.

Cassidy crossed her arms sullenly and looked down at her bare feet, while Erin looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and said “We just had some people over and it wasn’t a big deal and we’re going to clean up later… we just didn’t know you… like we thought we had time this afternoon.”

“Do not tell me what is or isn’t a big deal, young lady.  The backyard is trashed, and this obviously wasn’t a PG party.  None of you are old enough to drink, much less be serving alcohol to your friends.  Is that the kind of house they think this is?  The one where the parents don’t care?”

“No!” said Erin, “They knew Mom and Dad were out of town and–”

“And that you were being sneaky.  That you were doing it behind their backs.  And behind my back.”

Erin flushed again, and Cassidy said quickly, “Nobody who was drinking drove home!  There were a couple of DDs and everyone else ordered rides.”

“Good,” replied Ellen, “I’m glad.  That was a good policy.  It’s also the bare minimum of what I expect.  What are your parents going to say, Cassidy?”

“Please don’t…” she said haltingly.  “Seriously Ell, they’ll ground me until Christmas…”

“You know you can stay here, and you know what that means,” Ellen answered her sternly.  Heat poured off Cassidy’s face as she nodded her understanding.

“Jason!”  Ellen yelled suddenly, making Erin jump.  He’d slipped out earlier without anyone noticing, but now he came strolling back into the room, saying “You don’t have to shout.  The kitchen isn’t exactly soundproof.”

“Sorry,” Ellen said, “just need to borrow your belt please.”

Jason glanced at the couch with an expression Erin couldn’t quite read.  Sympathy?  No, not exactly.  More like regret on her behalf.  He  didn’t hesitate to fulfill Ellen’s request.  Two pairs of eyes followed his hands as he undid the buckle, the clinking sounds followed by a slick whoosh as he pulled it from the loops, doubled it over, and handed it to his girlfriend. “Thank you,” Ellen said.”  Jason tipped an imaginary hat, turned, and went back into the kitchen.

The kitchen where he can hear everything, Erin thought to herself.  She closed her eyes and flung herself back on the couch, feeling begrudgingly resigned to her fate. Erin noticed, and quirked an eyebrow at the younger girl before snapping the belt loudly and saying, “Cassidy, you’re up first.”

Cassidy reached automatically for her friend, hand grasping her thigh briefly before she managed to stand up.  Ellen indicated that she should lay over the arm of the now vacated recliner, which she did.  Cassidy wore only yellow bikini cut underwear under her t-shirt, which rose as she bent and covered nothing in her new position.

Ellen reached out to jerk the girl’s underwear down to midthigh; Cassidy groaned and buried her face in her hands.  Ellen brought the belt down with a satisfying snap, watching the thick stripe appear on the girl’s bottom before laying another over it.  Immediately, Cassidy’s feet began to lift from the ground, just an inch or two, but she couldn’t help herself.  “Ow, ow, ow,” fell softly from her mouth, as repetitive as the constant licks of leather on her backside.

“Ow, but I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she finally broke, but it only made Ellen swing the belt harder.  She didn’t speak; she didn’t think she needed to.  There was nothing unclear about what had gone wrong. The girls had been deceitful, had broken half a dozen rules and lied about it, and they deserved to be punished.  And so, she kept on laying into Cassidy’s backside long after it had become swollen, after her apologies had bubbled up and disappeared again, after a puddle of tears had begun to form on the cushioned seat.

She didn’t stop until she felt confident that Cassidy would feel the soreness in her bottom every time she bent to pick up a discarded beer can or retrieve a stray towel.  Then, finally, she set the belt down on the coffee table in front of her waiting sister; Erin sat curled with her knees under the tent of her shirt and her left thumbnail in her mouth.  Ellen pulled up Cassidy’s panties until they rested just below the curve of her cheeks and handed her a tissue as she squatted on the opposite side of the chair so she could look the young woman in the eye.  “I do not expect to have this discussion again.  Do you understand me?”

Cassidy took a shuddery breath and nodded, at which point Ellen stood. “Good. Find your corner. Erin, get over here.”

Erin would have groaned if it hadn’t felt disrespectful to her friend to do so.  But somehow she couldn’t let herself make any noise of dissent after watching Cassidy take her spanking.  They briefly grasped hands as they passed each other, squeezing and releasing. Then Erin was bending over the fat cushion of the arm chair and Cassidy had found a corner she was all too familiar with and neatly clasped her hands behind her back, her obviously spanked backside in clear view of the sisters.

Ellen was no less firm with her sister. Soon it was Erin squealing and wiggling, being spanked thoroughly by her big sister, and eventually squalling and apologizing.

Again, Ellen didn’t end the punishment until she felt sure there would be a lasting effect, both on the girl’s behavior and her swollen bottom. When she finally heard the belt clink against the coffee table, Erin did not find the same relief her friend had moments ago. For her, there was one more step.

She still gasped as her stomach hit Ellen’s lap, having never gotten used to being hauled from place to place. She shrieked as her sister’s palm flew across her bottom. The swats individually couldn’t compete with the worn leather of Jason’s belt, but Erin spanked so fast and her backside was already so sore that Erin kicked wildly.

No matter what the crime, Ellen always ended a spanking this way. She used to lecture Erin about how she was held to an exceptional standard as her little sister, but these days she let her hand do the talking.

The final sharp smack landed, and Ellen pulled the girl up for a brief hug before sending her with a pop to her own corner. Much to Erin’s horror, she heard Jason enter the room a moment later. This time he did whistle, saying to Ellen casually, “You think you got your point across, babe?”

Erin said only, “Girls?”

One “yes, ma’am” came on the heels of the other, and then the only sound was the jingle of Jason’s belt as he threaded it back through the loops of his jeans.

Erin couldn’t stop picturing the two of them taking in the sight of her and her best friend, bare and sniffling in the corners. They had felt so grown-up last night. Now Erin felt nothing of the sort and knew Cassidy must be feeling the same.

Her pity-party was interrupted by Ellen, who told them to pull up their underwear and come over. Both complied, tugging needlessly at the hems of their long T-shirts as they let her hug them, one then the other.

”We’re going to get lunch,” Ellen told them. “We’ll bring you something back. I want to see significant progress.” Her voice grew stern again at the end, and both girls nodded their understanding.

”Bye for now,” she continued, and Jason said “Bye, guys,” as he followed Ellen out of the door. Neither Erin nor Cassidy could summon their voices fast enough to reply. They exchanged watery glances as the back door shut again, then began the search for loose pants so they could start cleaning up.