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Low Tolerance

Standard

“Oliver. Oliver. Hey. Can you hear me?”

”Emma? Hey, what’s up?” Oliver pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the time. It was close to 11pm. “Everything okay?”

”I don’t know. Is it? I can’t go outside and check.”

Oliver furrowed his brow, trying to make sense out of what his friend was saying. Before he could respond she was talking again.

”Oliver. Oliver! Shhhh.”

”I wasn’t saying anything. Emma, are you… are you high right now?”

She errupted into giggles, but they stopped almost as soon as they started. “Oliver. Can you come over here?”

He rolled his eyes, but said “Yeah, I’ll be there in just a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”

”I’m not! And Oliver! Don’t tell Danny.”

”Just sit tight. I’ll be right there.”

Oliver put his phone in his pocket then stood for a minute, hands on his hips as he thought about what he should do. Danny and Ben were out of town, visiting their parents for a long weekend. He walked to the bedroom and threw together an overnight bag. Might as well see what was happening before he made any decisions.

~   ~   ~

He had to ring the bell three times before she answered, and when she did it was with a conspiratorial air. She grabbed his hand immediately and pulled him inside to the couch. “Oliver,” she said, making intense eye contact, “I wanted to be good at smoking weed so I tried to practice but now I think it was a bad idea.”

Oliver just stared at her for a minute, unsure of how to respond, then said “What did you smoke? Just weed?”

She nodded solemnly at him and replied, “I asked my friend and she gave me a joint just like we had before but this time we weren’t packing so no spankings.”

Oliver blushed, and thought Emma might be wrong about that. There was no point in talking about it now though. Instead he asked, “Are you feeling okay? How much of it did you smoke?”

”I was scared before but now I feel better. And sleepy.”

”And how much did you smoke?”

”All of it. I’m an over-achiever. Can I go to bed now?”

Oliver smiled and shook his head, amused at her. “I think that’s a great idea. Let’s get you ready.”

Emma flopped back against the couch and said “I can just sleep here. I like it here. This is a good couch for sleeping.”

“I don’t think so, miss Emma. Let’s get you upstairs,” Oliver said as he stood.

”Hmph,” she said, pouting, which made Oliver raise an eyebrow at her. “Noooo, don’t look at me like that! No looks.”

”Then quit fussing and get up, little girl. I’m gonna crash here tonight.”

”Duh, you can’t leave me like this. Danny would murder you,” she said, giggling again.

”I think you have plenty to worry about without throwing me in the mix. Are you going to behave yourself and let me put you to bed?”

Emma heaved a long dramatic sigh, but in the end said simply, “I guess.”

”Good choice,” Oliver said as he extended his hand and she took it. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

~   ~   ~

The next morning, Emma came downstairs to find Oliver making eggs in the kitchen. “Hi,” she said sheepishly, climbing up onto one of the stools by the kitchen counter and putting her hands around the glass of orange juice he’d set out for her.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said as he took the pan off the stove. He turned, giving her a smile as he dumped the yellow scrambled eggs on to two plates. “How are you feeling?”

”Pretty good,” she said. “I slept really hard.”

Oliver let out a laugh as he put a plate in front of her and then handed her a fork. “I bet you did. A whole joint by yourself?” He stood across from her as he took a bite.

She blushed and kept her eyes on her plate as she scooted her eggs around. After a minute Oliver said, “You gonna eat those or just rearrange them?”

She took a bite, swallowed, and glanced up. “Are you gonna tell Danny?”

Oliver gave her a scrutinizing look. She kept eating, trying to be good. He finally said, “How do you think Danny would feel about your little experiment?”

She stuck her lip out and stabbed a bite of egg. “It depends on if he knows or not. If he doesn’t know about it, he won’t have any feelings about it.”

When she glanced up again, Oliver was giving her a look that made her gaze drop right back to her plate. She took another bite to avoid having to look up.

”You can talk to Danny about it, Emma. And you can be grateful I don’t spank your butt before he does. I probably should.”

She squirmed in her seat. “Oliveeeer,” she whined. “Stooop.”

He picked up his empty plate and waited for her to take her last bite before grabbing hers, too. “Stop what?” he said, “Telling you what you already know?”

”Hmph. He wouldn’t punish me for the same thing twice.” An idea formed in her brain as she spoke. “Actually…” she said hesitantly, watching Oliver close the dishwasher and turn to her, drying his hands on a towel.

”Yes?” he said.

”Would you?” she said, blushing furiously but keeping her eyes up.

“Would I what?”

”Would you… take care of it?” She didn’t think she had ever blushed harder in her life.

Oliver leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, contemplating her. “You think I’m gonna be nicer than Danny, huh?”

”No!” she squeaked, even though that was exactly what she had been thinking. “I just hate waiting.”  That part was also true; she wasn’t sure she could carry this weight in her stomach until Danny got home on Monday.

Oliver continued to contemplate her. “You know I won’t be nice either. I don’t think you made an especially wise decision.”

Emma frowned and played with the condensation on her glass of juice. “You and Ben smoke all the time, though.”

Oliver nodded. “We do, pretty regularly. But we also know how much, and how it makes us feel. And you could have called me earlier last night. We could have smoked together if that was what you wanted. I don’t think it was about that, though.”

Emma made a face, scrunching up her nose. “How do you know what it was about?” she said.

”Call it a hunch,” Oliver said, but his tone had changed. He stood up straight and gave her a look that made her insides squirm. “Do you have a favorite corner?”

”Oliver! No one has a favorite corner! Do you have to do that part, too?”

”I sure don’t,” he replied. “I’m doing it because I think you need a little time to think about why you were home alone last night, trying to hide something that you‘re now telling me you’re allowed to do.”

Emma huffed. “Well maybe I am allowed to do it.”

”Would you like your mouth washed out, too?”

Her eyes went round. “No sir,” she said quickly and without thinking. She’d never called Oliver sir before, but she had also never had soap in her mouth and she wanted to keep it that way.

”Good. Go find a corner, please.”

Subdued, Emma climbed down from the stool and went to a corner of the living room which, while not her favorite, was certainly familiar. She put her hands behind her back obediently, hoping that Oliver was wrong about being mean like Danny, but worrying that he wasn’t. He wasn’t wrong about her motivations. She shifted her feet as the guilt she’d been avoiding settled in.

When Oliver called her out a few minutes later, she was in a very different headspace. Though she still hoped that Oliver would be more lenient than her boyfriend, she knew she deserved to be punished. She walked over to where Oliver sat on the corner of the sturdy glass coffee table. She noticed a wooden spoon sitting behind him and groaned. “Is it too late to wait for Danny?” she asked tentatively.

”It is,” Oliver replied. “The spoon was actually his suggestion.”

Emma’s lungs seemed to freeze. “You talked to him?” she said, her voice much higher than normal. Heat rushed up her neck and face.

”Mhmm.”

”Oh,” she said, unable to utter any more syllables after that.

“He pointed out that his hand didn’t seem to do the trick last time. Let’s get this taken care of. Over my lap, please.”

Emma practically dove into position, ready for Oliver to stop looking at her face. He pulled her pajama bottoms down, then adjusted her yellow underwear so they covered her bottom.

He began patting her backside as he spoke. “I can’t believe that after the trouble we were in just a month ago, you are messing around again.” The pats morphed into swats, and those swats were becoming harder by the second.

”You are not in high school any more. Weed is not something you need to become ‘good’ at, as you said last night.”

“I know, I know Oliver!” Emma said, pushing her palms against his thigh and kicking her feet. His hand was so stingy and he spanked so fast that she couldn’t catch her breath. He began to concentrate on her sit spots.

”You knew before you started this whole thing, which is why you waited until Danny was out of town to do it.”

Emma strained against Oliver’s grasp, trying to keep her feet out of his way but barely succeeding. He continued lecturing over her pitiful grunts and heavy breathing.

”You’re officially grounded from smoking, alone or with anyone else.”

”But Oliver—“ she said between wiggles, but he spoke over her.

”Danny’s decision. Which I fully support. If you can’t be responsible with it, you don’t need to do it.”

”But I feel left out,” she whined, and Oliver stopped spanking her. He rested his right hand on her bottom and rubbed her back gently with his left.

”Emma, you don’t have to enjoy everything. It doesn’t make you less fun or more fun. It doesn’t make us not want to hang out with you. Do you understand that?”

”I guess,” she said miserably, and Oliver gave a low hum of disapproval before using both hands to pull her underwear down, exposing her already sore bare bottom.

She moaned and kicked her feet, which earned her a swat to each thigh. “Keep those down, Emma. We aren’t finished. I need you to be a whole lot more sure first.”

Next she felt the cool wood of the spoon and she reached over to grab a fistful of Oliver’s pajama bottoms with her right hand while her left braced her against the floor. He didn’t wait long before he was spanking her with it, sharp and stingy swats all over her backside. She kicked her legs from side to side, but kept them out of the way; she didn’t want her thighs to match her bottom.

She was beginning to regret a lot of things as the spoon fell— asking her friend for weed, for starters. Smoking by herself, for another. And asking Oliver to be in charge of her punishment was currently at the top of her list. He kept Ben under control, for goodness sake! Why had she thought he would be a pushover?

“Let me tell you about my tolerance,” he said as the spoon made contact again and again. “It is very low when it comes to these sorts of antics. You are sweet and fun and funny, and that is all you need to be.”

He laid the swats on hard after he spoke, but only for a moment before he stopped spanking her. Her eyes were wet as she felt him rest his forearms across her back, and she released his pants leg to swipe the back of her hand across her face.

”I am really glad you called me when you got scared last night. And I hope that any time you’re in a situation where you feel scared, you’ll call one of us. Even if it means a sore butt for you.”

She squirmed, both embarrassed and pleased at the praise. He set the spoon down with a clatter on the table and patted her bottom with his hand.

”So, we are clear that you are grounded? And why?”

”Yes, Oliver,” she said meekly. She didn’t care if she never smoked weed again right now. He had been right earlier— she didn’t even enjoy it. And now she wasn’t going to enjoy sitting for the rest of the day.

He pulled her underwear and pajama bottoms up, then had her get up as well. She did so but then immediately sat in his lap, throwing her arms around his neck.

”Shhh, it’s alright,” he said as he rubbed her back. She just needed to be held for a few minutes, and she was happy with how comfortable she felt letting Oliver take care of her. Even if he was, most decidedly, mean. She actually smiled into his shoulder, thinking about commiserating with Ben when he got home.

”Alright, miss Emma, we better go call our boyfriends. I need to let Ben know you survived. He was very worried. You did survive, right?”

Emma giggled and sat up, nodding as she said, “Mostly,” and then, “thank you.”

Oliver smiled and hugged her tightly. “You’re welcome.”

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Tonight Enough

Standard

“You know that I’m going to spank you tonight, right?”

Edith’s heart immediately began to beat harder and the air seemed dissipate from her lungs. Her eyes widened before her brow knit together and she scowled, then huffed, “I didn’t do anything!” They sat at the small dinner table together, having finished their meal a while ago.

”Who said you did?” Paul answered, nonplussed. “What does your statement have to do with my statement?”

Edith crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Why—“ she began, and then she waited for the silence to stretch and for Paul to begin responding to say loudly over him, “—are you like this?”

He gazed at her for a moment and then casually put his hands behind his head, fingers interlaced, and said “I promise whatever spanking you think you want to earn right now will be worse than the one I was planning. Make good choices, Edy.”

She glowered, but kept her mouth shut for the moment. She had given him the power to punish or spank her as he saw fit, but she still struggled with it when he decided to do so.

He watched the conflicting emotions flicker across her face and decided not to make her wait.  He scooted his chair back, stood, and walked behind her. Without a word he lifted her chair just enough to move it well away from the table. “Hey!” she exclaimed, swaying a bit and regaining her balance. “You said tonight! It’s still evening!”

”I just decided it’s tonight enough for me,” he said, stepping around and offering his hand to her. She crossed her arms and seemed to shrink as she tightened her body and looked away.

”Edy,” he said, his voice full of warning.  She groaned and still refused to look at him, but finished the frustrated sound by unwinding her arms. Her hands paused a moment to grab the chair and he could see her knuckles tighten around the edge of the seat as she summoned the will to take his hand.

She did it, though, and he smiled and said “Good girl.” She immediately began to pull away, so he sat quickly and used his weight to pull her forward and across his lap. She didn’t feel like a good girl yet, didn’t want him to see her that way. She needed to earn it. He knew how to make that happen.

”Paul!” she yelled as her stomach hit his thighs. She always said his name like that when she was angry, like some sort of ward against whatever he had planned.

”Edith,” he responded conversationally as he flipped her dress up to reveal her pink boyshorts with tiny white polkadots. She kicked her legs but he ignored them as he adjusted her position.

She hated it when he manhandled her, so he took the opportunity whenever he could. He wanted to push her, get this brewing tantrum out before it became any bigger and she earned a real punishment. Neither one of them wanted that but it was the path she would take if he didn’t stop it early.

Her underwear did little to cover her round bottom, at least in this position. He liked not waiting for her to give him a reason to spank her. She hadn’t even been terribly bratty today, though he could tell her temper was fragile. He had already planned to spank her though. He was in a mood himself.

”Alright, young lady, let’s see if you can mind your manners well enough to keep this short and sweet.” He was provoking her and they both knew it. It didn’t stop it from working.

”You are the WORST,” she yelled at the floor. He chuckled and lifted his hand, bringing it down with a loud smack. She gasped and struggled and he pulled her in closer as he continued spanking and she continued yelling and kicking.

”Paul! Paul!! You can stop. I get it,” she said a minute later. She was finding it harder to choreograph her movements: she wanted him to feel how strong she was but the involuntary jerking of her legs made her feel weak.

”What do you get, little girl?” he asked, his steady hand never wavering.

”I won’t have an attitude!”

”You didn’t have an attitude. I could tell you were in a bad mood, but you haven’t been rude or bratty.” He said this as casually as if they were talking over coffee instead of her over his knee.

She pounded his thigh with her fists, just hard enough to make her presence known, and he responded by spanking her even harder. She shrieked and attempted to wiggle off of his lap. He kept her easily in place as he continued to put much of his strength into his right arm. After several dozen swats, he began to speak again.

”I’m spanking you because I want to spank you. I think it will make you feel better and more relaxed after, but that is just a bonus. I think you’ll be snuggly and subby and especially well-behaved after, and I like those things, too. But that is not why.”

He never slowed down as he spanked her, never lessened the power behind the swats, but she managed to stay mostly quiet as he talked. She liked what he was saying; it made her stomach flipflop to feel so out of control.

”I’m spanking you because I like the way you fit over my lap. I like the noises you make. I even like the way you kick and wiggle, although if you don’t tone it down a little, I’m going to reach over and grab a spoon.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” she said, and he could hear the hardness slipping out of her voice. She wanted to be still for him, if she could and if it was what he wanted. She tried really hard, and he didn’t make it easy. He wanted her to feel this well into the night and maybe tomorrow morning, so he put extra effort into her sit-spots and the tops of her thighs.

He enjoyed finding his rhythm, loved the feeling of his stinging palm and her hot skin and her weight against his legs. He liked that he didn’t have to worry about whether she liked it or not— and that in itself was good for her.

By time he was finished, there were raised striations along her thighs and her bottom practically glowed. He flipped her dress back down and allowed her to stand. She jerked the thin fabric back up so she could rub her sore backside, rocking onto the balls of her feet as she did so.

”Oh that was mean,” she said, but her glare had a twinkle that had been missing before.

”Was it?” he said, shaking his hand out a little.

”And I hate you,” she said, finally letting her dress fall back down and trying to right herself.

“You do?” he said, grinning at her.

”No, I don’t,” she said just as casually. “Thank you.”

Paul smiled even more broadly. “You are welcome, Miss Edy. You are very welcome indeed.”

Moving Day

Standard

Emma looked at her feet as she shuffled into the living room in a straight line between Oliver and Benjamin. The three of them stopped alongside the wall, in front of a long defunct fireplace and surrounded by boxes and scattered rolls of packing tape. They turned obediently about-face in the room’s center. Emma bit her lip nervously as she watched Danny move his arms across his chest and survey the three young adults. They’d been packing silently in separate rooms for over an hour. Danny didn’t want to deal with them until they were sober.

Emma glanced at the clock still on the wall and cringed. She couldn’t believe she was sobering up before three in the afternoon. She’d only gotten high a handful of times in her life, and never in the middle of the day and definitely never when she was supposed to be doing something else. It had just seemed so serendipitous, coming across the rolled joint in a glass on top of the refrigerator as she packed up the kitchen.

She’d brought it to Ben with a smirk, and his eyes had lit up mischievously. A friend had left it as a goodbye present for him, and he’d forgotten all about it.

“Oh this is going to make packing so much less boring,” he’d said, and Emma had laughed, assuming he was joking. He hadn’t been, though, and she had to admit that the idea of getting a little stoned sounded fun. She frowned as she thought about what Danny would say. He was out running a few errands, getting more boxes and grabbing take-out for them to eat later. Ben had just graduated, and he and Oliver were moving across the country, back to where Danny and Ben had grown up. They would all be in the same neighborhood now, and Danny and Emma were there to help pack up the UHaul and tow it west.

It had been like Ben could read her thoughts and he quickly said, “Let’s ask Oliver! OLIVER!!!” He yelled his boyfriend’s name suddenly, making Emma cringe and then glare at him. Oliver made his way into the living room from the bedroom and was quickly brought up to speed. Emma had honestly expected Oliver to put a stop to it then and there, but she had underestimated how persuasive Ben could be. She shouldn’t have been surprised; he was Danny’s brother, after all, and Danny could charm the pictures off a wall.

At least Oliver was also worried about Danny’s reaction; it was his first thought, too. Strategy one for Ben was teasing his boyfriend– “Oh come on, you aren’t scared of Danny, are you?” to which Oliver replied with no hint of shame, “Of course I’m scared of him.” Ben had rolled his eyes and Emma had giggled, but she’s also gotten butterflies in her stomach. She was on the same page as Oliver. Ben had switched tactics immediately, instead trying to convince them that Danny wouldn’t care anyway, and he did have a point… or at least, it had seemed like he had a point at the time.

“He seriously won’t! We’re not driving anywhere or going to a fancy dinner or any of the stuff that would get him worked up.”

Ben was probably right about that. If they’d all taken a hit or two and gone back to work, Danny likely wouldn’t have cared. But of course that wasn’t how it had worked out, or they wouldn’t be on the receiving end of an impending lecture, or an impending… Emma didn’t want to think the word, as if somehow that would bring it into being more quickly.

It turned out that it had been a very generous friend who had left the joint, and after only a hit or two of the strong stuff, the three lightweights caught with the giggles. Whatever ideas they had about continuing to work were out the window like the smoke they were blowing.

~   ~   ~

Emma was jerked out of the recent memory and out of line at the same time. She yelped and hopped as Danny’s left hand connected with her seat half a dozen powerful times. His right hand, which had pulled her forward by her bicep, gently guided her backwards and back to her spot. A hot blush rushed up her body, and she could feel the heat radiating off of her face. Her eyes pricked with tears— not at the swats (though she could still feel them), but at the embarrassment of being caught distracted and punished for it in front of the boys.

She dragged her wet eyes up to meet her boyfriend’s face, swiping at the tears quickly as she did so. His eyes were firm but not without sympathy, which helped her meet his gaze. “Pay attention to me please, Emma. You’ve had plenty of time for your own thoughts. Now you get to hear mine.”

“Yes sir,” she said quietly.

On Emma’s right stood Oliver, who had his hands behind his back and nervously rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He was blushing almost as much as Emma, and would later tell her that Dan had said her name three times before swatting her. Ben stood to her right, his arms crossed defiantly in front of him. He alone seemed unsorry, and was more upset by the quick reprimand than she was.

Daniel stood very still, eyeballing each in turn as he considered what to say next. He noticed his brother’s defiant posture and focused his gaze in Ben’s direction.
“Do you have something you would like to say?” he asked.
Ben scowled and kicked at the old hardwood floors. “We still have plenty of time to get everything done.” He kept his eyes pointd toward the toe of his sneaker, glancing up at his big brother’s face only once and regretting it instantly. He doubled down on his sulky attitude, though, as he mumbled “You’re just mad because we did it without you.”

Emma felt her eyes rounding as she heard Ben talk. He was going to get Danny riled up, and they were all going to feel the consequences if he didn’t shut up.
“Benjamin,” came a voice from her right. She watched Danny’s mouth, which had likely been about to say same thing, close thoughtfully. She peeked up to see Oliver looking over her head at his boyfriend, his expression as stern as Danny’s. “Enough. Apologize.”

Emma’s eyes rolled over to Ben, who stood with his mouth gaping, looking like a fish out of water. He looked at Oliver, then at Danny, and back again. “But…” he whined.

“Now,” Oliver said, and Benjamin frowned prettily but said “Sorry, Danny.”

Oliver purposefully turned his attention back to Danny, standing as respectfully as possible and clearly prepared to continue being lectured. Danny nodded and said “Thank you,” though Emma wasn’t sure if he was talking to Oliver or Ben. She guessed both. Ben’s body seemed to visibly deflate as his shoulders sagged. His face lost the challenging expression he’d had as he fully embraced the pouting stage. She turned her attention back to Dan, who didn’t seem interested on dwelling on the exchange.

“You aren’t in trouble for smoking. With or without me,” he said dryly, and Benjamin had the grace to blush now. “You’re in trouble for completely abandoning the job we have to finish today. And you are in trouble for trying to hide it from me when I got back.”

All three of them squirmed at this. It had been an entirely useless attempt at deception. They’d reacted like a bunch of teenagers caught smoking in their parents’ basements instead of like three adults. Emma didn’t know what it was about getting busted passing a joint that made it feel so naughty. They’d heard Dan’s car pull up and had started fanning the room wildly with their arms, as if that would help anything, followed by a completely worthless attempt at acting normal.

Danny had been flustered. Flustered. She hadn’t known that was even possible before today. It hadn’t taken him long to recover, though, that was for sure. He seems to grow taller before their eyes. He wasn’t angry, exactly. Emma had seen angry. This was Danny at his most “oh, really?” as she called it in her head. He saw a problem that needed to be addressed, so here he was to address it.

“Did you get anything done while I was gone?” he’d asked directly, looking around at the half filled boxes and half emptied shelves. He held a plastic bag in each hand, filled with the sub sandwiches he’d gotten them for lunch. Which they still hadn’t gotten to eat.

Clearly they hadn’t, and she—

~   ~   ~

“Emma Grace,” Danny said, jerking her back to reality again. He looked so. mad. She couldn’t believe she’d let her mind wander again. He was going to murder her.

“Sorry, sorrysorrysorry!” she said quickly, as her hands covered her bottom. She resisted the urge to step behind Ben or Oliver, but barely. “I’m listening!”

”I think listening is proving too difficult for you right now. It‘s time for my hand to do the talking.”

Emma hated it when cheesy lines like that made her insides jump. Danny pointed to the corners behind them, one to the left and one to the right, and both currently emptied of furniture. “Oliver. Benjamin.” Emma took a step back. Oh, no. She was first.
Reluctantly, and with sympathetic glances in Emma’s directions, the boys turned toward their respective corners. Danny retrieved one of the old wooden chairs from the dining room and sat facing Emma. He held her in his gaze for a moment, his hands casually resting on his lap before raising one hand and crooking a finger at her.

She bit her lip again, a nervous habit that never seemed to relieve her nerves at all, and slowly shuffled to his side. He reached up, gently tipping her forward and across his lap. She wiggled a bit, settling herself, and he scooched her closer to his middle before resting his hand on her thighs, just below the hem of the dress she was wearing. She knew he wasn’t about to start spanking her that low but she still let out a worried moan. The hand slid up, pushing the thin material up her thighs and across her bottom to rest on the skintight black shorts she wore underneath. His right hand met the left, taking the bunched up material of her dress and moving it up and out of the way. Danny began to speak.

“You’re having an awful lot of trouble listening today, young lady.” The blush on Emma’s cheeks rose anew as he continued, “Not the best strategy for someone about to be spanked.”

”Dannnnyyy,” she whined, covering her face with her hands, effectively hiding from the floor. Her boyfriend patted her bottom affectionately, then adjusted his grip around her waist in a way she recognized.

Sure enough, the first swat cracked down seconds later, propelling her forward. Her hands fell from her face and landed in the floor, fingers splayed as she braced herself against the onslaught. Danny was methodical, covering every bit of her exposed bottom with his hard open palm. Emma was painfully aware of the boys in their corners and tried desperately to remain quiet, but it was a fruitless effort. She squeaked and yipped, unable to hold back her reactions as Danny spanked and lectured her.

”I expect better from you. I want you to have fun but we take care of our obligations first. And you had no business trying to keep up with the boys anyway, young lady. You know what kind of tolerance you have.”

This, for Emma, was the most embarrassing part. She felt like a kid, being reminded that she couldn’t quite hang with the older crowd yet. Danny was right, of course. He and the others all smoked more often than her, not that any of them were judging the others for it.

“You know better than to think you can get your work done and done well after you’ve been smoking.”

She did know better, and she felt like she shrank three sizes as he finished her spanking. As the last swats fell and he pulled up her underwear and shorts and began to rub her back, she knew her bottom must be glowing. He soon guided her back up to standing and stood as well, hugging her and kissing the top of her head. He didn’t wait long though before gently pulling away, cupping her face for a minute before pointing her in the direction of Oliver’s corner.

She stuck her bottom lip out, and he raised an eyebrow at her. That same pretty lip ended up in her teeth again and she turned and scurried toward the corner, but not fast enough to avoid one final loud pop to her now sore bottom.

She yelped and immediately covered her backside, looking back over her shoulder as she quickened her steps. “Come here, Oliver,” she heard Danny say, and she cast her eyes down as she saw him turn. She was so embarrassed by what had just happened and by what was about to happen that she couldn’t risk looking him in the face.

She saw his feet shuffle past hers as she plastered herself into the corner where he had been. She immediately jammed her fingers into her ears and shut her eyes tightly, though little good it did her. Within seconds she felt her wrists being grabbed and her arms being extended and rearranged, placed neatly on the small of her back. Then her dress was being lifted and clasped along with her wrists in one large hand, while the other came down sharply on her spandex shorts.

”Ow! Ow! Sorry! Sorry!” she squealed as he lit her up again.

”Show me how you stand in a corner, young lady,” Danny said behind her— too close behind her, in her opinion. No ill-will toward Ollie, but she wanted Danny back across the room as fast as possible. She snapped her feet together and clasped her hands loosely without moving them from her back when Danny released her arms. Again, her face radiated so much heat that she felt confident she could power a small appliance with the energy.

”Better,” her boyfriend said as she heard him walk back to the chair in the center of the room. “Now, Oliver,” he continued, and Emma could hear the jingle of Oliver’s belt. She cringed. Danny must be taking down his pants. “Let’s talk about some of the choices you made today.”

Unable to cover her ears, Emma heard Oliver groan, knew it was only a matter of time before—

Smack!

—the spanking started. The swats were loud and echoey from her spot in the corner, but not nearly enough to hide the grunts and yelps Oliver was emitting at regular intervals. Or Danny, as he scolded him.

“I expect you to make better decisions, young man. You are well-aware of the schedule we’re on, and what needs to be finished today. It was irresponsible, Oliver, and I expect better.”

The steady sound of Danny spanking what Emma knew had to be Oliver’s bare Read the rest of this entry

This Brush?

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Oliver lay on his back with an arm around Benjamin, who was snug up against him. He’d just gotten home from a trip out west, where he’d found an apartment for them to share at the end of May when they moved. His boyfriend was pressing him for details, but not about their new place or future neighborhood or the flight home.

”Did he make you stand in the corner?”

“No, he did not. Why are you so curious about what Danny did to me, huh? You lookin’ for a demonstration?” Oliver ran the hand behind Ben through his boyfriend’s hair affectionately, making sure he knew there was no heat behind the threat.  In truth he felt like Ben deserved whatever answers he wanted; Oliver had upset him and he had every right to be upset. If what he wanted was details, Oliver would do his best.

”Did he use the hairbrush?”

”Yes, you little miscreant. I’m sure you knew he would.”

”I didn’t!” Ben said, a little indignantly. “I didn’t know for sure you were gonna be in trouble.” He turned on the bed, sitting up a little and looking down at Oliver as he asked, “Does it still hurt?” His face was filled with such sweet earnest worry that Oliver couldn’t help but to lean up and kiss him quickly.

He winced dramatically with the movement, then winked as his head hit the pillow again. “Yes, it does. But not much. Only when I sit down too hard.”

Ben searched Oliver’s face a moment more before laying down again, his head on Ollie’s chest. “Well. You did deserve it.”

”Yes,” said Oliver, giving Ben a squeeze. “I guess I did.”

They lay silently for a few minutes before Ben said, “Did you cry?”

Oliver flushed a little, but he answered truthfully, “Yeah, I did.”

He felt Ben give a little shudder beside him as he said “He always makes me cry if he thinks what I did was dangerous, or if he thinks I’m screwing up my life somehow.”

”What’d you do?” Oliver asked, sensing something in Ben’s tone and suddenly curious himself.  In seconds he could feel the heat from Ben’s face through the thin fabric of his shirt, but he didn’t speak until Oliver nudged him.

”It’s so embarrassing though!” Ben whined into Oliver’s chest, but his boyfriend just chuckled.

“It’s all embarrassing, sweet boy. I’m beginning to think that’s half the point.” He kissed the top of Ben’s head.

”There wasn’t just one time,” Ben mumbled, but Oliver would have guessed that.

“But there’s one time you’re thinking of?”

“Maybe…”

~   ~   ~

Ben heard a noise downstairs and paused the video game he was playing to lean over and look out of his bedroom window.  FUCK.

Why?  Why was Danny’s car in the driveway?  He was in school three hours away and there was literally no reason for him to be here and this was not good this was so not good this was–

“Benjamin! Get down here.”

Ben scrambled up from his spot on the floor, looking around his room for no particular reason, panicked.  He was supposed to be in school right now, but with their parents in Switzerland or Kenya or wherever they were this week, he wasn’t even pretending to be sick.  Not that he needed much of an excuse when they were home; the smallest hint of a cough and his mother would cup his face and kiss his forehead and tell him to stay home and rest.  But today he just wasn’t in school.  And maybe he had skipped yesterday.  And the day before.

Danny’s voice traveled up the stairs again, “Benjamin Ryan!  Now!”

Ben took a deep breath and exited his room.  The stairs ended by the kitchen, where Danny was standing with his arms crossed, leaning back against the breakfast table.  “Why?  Why are you not in school?” he said as soon as Ben’s foot touched the bottom step.

Ben sat on the landing, crossing his own arms and looking away.  “Hello to you, too. I don’t feel good.”

Dan let the silence grow so thick that eventually Ben couldn’t help but look over at his older brother.  The muscles of Danny’s clenched jaw were twitching, and Ben was afraid his head might actually explode.  That would be hard to explain to their parents.

~   ~   ~

“Wait so when was this?” Oliver asked.

“Senior year.  Not too long before graduation because it was Danny’s spring break.  Ours was two weeks earlier.”

“He was in grad school already?”

“Yeah, Mr. Over-achiever finished undergrad a year early and went straight back to school.”

“Got it got it.  So then what happened?”

~   ~   ~

“I am not Mom.  Or Dad.  Try again,” Danny finally ground out.

“Well they don’t care so why do you care?” Ben pouted.  It was the wrong thing to say.  He barely had time to eek out a “Wait I didn’t mean it!” before Danny was hauling him up with one strong hand on the younger boy’s bicep and swatting his backside with the other.  Dan didn’t dignify the comment with a verbal response, but Ben got the message loud and clear.  He was cognizant of his yelps echoing up the stairwell as the spanking went on and on.  With a final almighty whack, he was deposited back on the steps.  He immediately shifted left and right, sliding his hands under his stinging backside and grateful he was still in the sweatpants he’d worn to bed.

Danny squatted in front of him, not looking the least bit mollified.  “Don’t try that again, Ben.  I mean it.”

Ben nodded silently; he’d regretted it the moment the words had left his mouth, and not just because of the immediate repercussions.  Despite the occasional teenage resentment, Ben knew exactly why Danny cared, and how much.  They’d had their share of heart-to-hearts over the years.  Their parents loved them, but they both traveled for work and just as often for pleasure.  When they were home, both were so conflict avoidant that Ben never faced any consequences for whatever had happened in their absence.

Ben wasn’t mature enough yet to wonder at what it must have cost his brother to step into his role as a third parent so early, but he was old enough to be grateful.  Usually.

Dan stalked back to the kitchen table, resuming his earlier stance and gazing at his little brother with stern, forbidding eyes.  Ben leaned his head against the wall and sulked.  He didn’t care in this moment what motivated his brother.  He just knew that his week of staying home playing video games and staying up late was over.

“Do you know how many days you’ve missed this year?” Danny finally asked.

“I dunno… like eight?”

Dan glared at him.  “Try twenty.”

~   ~   ~

Twenty?!  How did you get away with twenty absences?  We could only have three unexcused ones before they sent someone to your house!”

Ben had the grace to blush as he traced the pattern on Oliver’s t-shirt with his finger.  “Well most of them were excused because my mom would get a doctor’s note.  Plus I went to private school so it’s a little easier to get away with things there.  But it also makes it a little easier to bend other rules.  Danny was getting cc’d on all the communications to my parents.  That’s how he knew I’d been out of school three days in a row.”

Oliver shook his head.  “I would have murdered my sisters if they’d had twenty absences.  Were you ever even sick?”

“Maybe once or twice, but not really.  It was actually a pretty sweet deal.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, though Ben wasn’t able to see it.  “Okay, high school me would have been jealous.  But high school me also didn’t have a Danny.”

“High school you was lucky.”

~   ~   ~

“Stand up. Put your nose in the corner,” Danny said abruptly. He pointed to the landing corner, before the stairs turned sharply right. Ben stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?!” he said finally, then immediately stood and scrambled backward as Danny started to walk toward him. His brother stopped at the bottom of the three steps leading up to the landing. Ben was plastered to the wall, eyeing the upper floor shrewdly as he said “I’m not a little kid! You can’t put me in time-out!”

~   ~   ~

“You yelled that at me last week,” Oliver said, laughing. Ben jerked his head up off of his boyfriend’s torso and glared down at him.

“I did not!”

Oliver merely raised his eyebrows in response.

“Are you finished interrupting?” Ben huffed.

“I am, I am, please continue,” Ollie placated him, rubbing his back as he settled back down. It wasn’t worth pressing at the moment.

~   ~   ~

It hadn’t been the most obedient five minutes Ben had ever spent in a corner, but it was the first time.  He’d stomped and fidgeted and banged his head lightly against the wall. He’d let out a long dramatic sigh.

He’d let out several long dramatic sighs.

When Danny did call him, it was from the living room.  Ben trudged in, hands in his pockets, trying to portray a nonchalance he didn’t quite feel. His brother sat in one of the two floral-patterned fauteuil chairs, and gestured for Ben to sit in the other. Ben did, slouching in response to Danny’s straight backed posture across from him.

Danny didn’t look much less annoyed than he had earlier. Ben didn’t care. He knew what was about to happen, knew it was inevitable, and now just wanted Danny to know how little he cared.

”Sit up,” Dan said immediately, and perhaps predictably (though Ben would have vehemently denied that he was purposefully antagonizing the older boy). Ben rolled his eyes, but complied. Dan continued to speak. “I’m not going to waste much time talking about why you should be in school right now. We’ve been over it. And over it.”

Ben rolled his eyes, pointing them skyward and ignoring his heating face as he forced himself to say “Just get it over with.”

”Look at me, please,” Danny replied. With an exaggerated turn of his head, Ben looked back.  Danny was reaching for a box that lay on the small round table between the two angled chairs. He opened it as he spoke, extracting a solid oval hairbrush with a dark finish. “I got this on the drive here, at an antique store off the highway.”

He didn’t explain it further. He didn’t need to. Ben’s chest was tight and he couldn’t take his eyes off the wooden hairbrush. Danny had threatened, on more than one occasion, to buy a one. Ben never thought it would actually happen.

”I’m finished explaining to you why it is so important for you to do your best. For you to behave yourself. For you to continue to do well in school. You’re going to have to grow up a little and figure that out on your own. And I’m confident you will.

“Today I’m going to give you one very good reason for you to do all of the above.”

”You can’t… you can’t hit me with that,” Ben said. He had intended to sound surly, but he came nowhere close.

”I can, and will, be spanking you with this hairbrush, Benjamin. Today, and any day you miss school until graduation. If I have to drive three hours to do it, I’ll drive three hours to do it. If I have to miss class to take care of you, that’s a second spanking before school the next morning.”

Ben tore his gaze away from the brush and gaped at his brother, not wanting to believe him but knowing he meant every word. The fire in his eyes had been replaced with grim determination. Ben watched him scoot toward the edge of his chair, a small step in the direction of doom for Ben’s bottom. “Time to ‘get it over with,’ as you requested.”

Ben leaned down, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes, a useless attempt to wake up from this nightmare. And to stall for time. What were his options? He could run, but Danny was faster. He could fight, but Danny was stronger. He could argue, but Danny was grabbing his arm and pulling him over and—

And then it was happening, he was  horizontal over Danny’s lap and his pants were pulled down to his knees, with nothing left to do but accept the inevitable, though Ben’s interpretation of “accept” left lots of wiggle room. Ben groaned and then Danny’s hand landed, and then it didn’t stop landing for a very long time.

Ben refused to make any more noise at first, but as the heat in his backside began to build, he found himself banging the floor in frustration. Danny didn’t notice or didn’t care. His hand never slowed. “This isn’t fair! I don’t deserve this!” he yelled out, and Danny did seem to notice that because he paused to yank Ben’s boxers down to join his sweatpants. “Ahh!” Ben called out as the pain increased. “Just stop!”

Danny said above him, with all the patience of Ghandi, “I have only one point to make today, Benjamin. But I don’t think you’re ready to listen yet.” Oliver felt the strength of the swats increase and he yelled out again, then flung his hand back in a vain attempt at stopping the spanking, even momentarily. Danny trapped it with ease, not being inexperienced with this move, and continued with yet another round of searing swats.

“I’m ready to listen! Danny! I’m ready to listen!” Ben finally broke, but nothing changed. He tried again a minute later, as his legs scissored wildly, “I’ll go to school! I won’t miss any more days! Even if I’m sick!” but there was still no pause in the steady onslaught. Every inch of his butt hurt, not to mention the tops of his thighs. He never thought he’d miss the lecture part, but at least it generally made Danny slow down. “I won’t ever be late again! I’ll show up early! Danny I swear just stoooooopp!” he whined desperately.

This seemed to have the opposite effect from what Ben wanted, though, as Danny began concentrating all of his very powerful efforts on the undercurve of Ben’s backside and the tops of his thighs. Ben screeched and flailed, and finally did get another pause, but only to hear Danny’s voice, deadly quiet, advising him to be careful with his kicking feet.

”How? I can’t help it!” Ben said. Danny shifted Ben’s body forward, across one knee, and threw his leg across Ben’s.

“I think this is going to be necessary anyway today, so we might as well start now,” he proclaimed as he started in again on Ben’s hot and swollen backside. The swats were no harder but now the skin and muscles of Ben’s backside were pulled tight and the impact seemed to quadruple.

Ben was starting to feel a lot of regret about a lot of things; there was no room in his mind to worry about his impending date with the hairbrush. He didn’t even remember to be mad at his brother, he was so desperate to be out of this situation.

Eventually the swats did slow and then stop, and Danny released Ben’s hand so his own would be free to rub the boy’s back. Ben’s eyes were full of unshed tears as he soaked up the comfort he was given. “I’m sorry” he choked out, his attitude completely gone as he lay there, his rear end throbbing and sore.

Danny continued to rub his back as he said, “I know you are, kid. You always are in this position, and I think you genuinely mean it at the time. And then you forget.”  Ben felt Dan reach over to the table, and then felt the smooth finish of the new hairbrush glide across the taught skin of his backside. He started struggling immediately, but Danny grasped his wrist again and easily kept him in place as he continued, “I’m going to give you something you better not forget. You might forget all the reasons, but you better remember what this feels like, because it will happen again when and if it needs to.”

”I won’t forget! Please Danny, I won’t, I get it, I’m sorry,” he babbled, tears finally dropping on the hardwood floor in anticipation of the hairbrush landing. But it didn’t stop it from coming. Danny brought the hairbrush down firmly on Ben’s backside, first the left cheek and then the right, slower than before but hard, until Ben’s bottom had been thoroughly punished with the implement. And then he brought it down six more times, three to each sitspot, each swat deliberate and forceful.

Ben was a mess when it finally ended and he was pulled up to sit in Danny’s lap, where he clung to his brother, crying and apologizing and assuring him that he would never need to use the hairbrush again.

~   ~   ~

”This hairbrush?” Oliver asked, idly reaching over to the nightstand where they kept the antique.

”That hairbrush,” Ben said disdainfully, looking up to see it in his boyfriend’s hand.

”Never again, huh?” Oliver asked teasingly as he returned it to its spot.

”Well I hadn’t really figured out how terrible and mean Danny is. And don’t even get me started on you! I hadn’t met you yet.”

Oliver rolled over, quickly placing himself on top of Ben, his knees on either side of his boyfriend’s waist. “And what is so wrong with me, little boy?”

Ben grinned up mischievously. “I said don’t get me started! You are the most—“ but he didn’t get to finish his sentence because Oliver cut him off with a kiss.

”Sorry,” he said when their lips parted, his hands now planted along side Ben’s face, supporting his torso. “I thought you might be about to say something you’d regret.” Ben giggled, then Oliver asked, “Did you miss any more days?”

”No! Would you have missed any more days?!”

Oliver looked up and tick-tocked his head in an exaggerated show of contemplation, thinking about the last three days and the replacement hairbrush Danny had found. “No, I don’t think I would have.”

The Clearing

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This follows The Plan.

Whatever semblance of shame that had been on Phillipa’s face after the Discipline Room was quickly gone.  Her plan to meet her secret admirer boosted her spirits, and she was back to flitting around her quarters by mid-afternoon, dreaming of the mysterious Bartholomew and their meeting.  Helena helped her dress, her feelings flipping between irritation at the princess’s blithe disposition after this morning’s eventfulness, and worry that something would disrupt their plans.  So far, though, things were playing out nicely.  As predicted, Phillipa requested privacy from her usual accompaniment for her afternoon ride, and as predicted, was permitted to have this as long as the governess was allowed along.  Phillipa didn’t even pitch much of a fit about it, likely because she had already caused such a scene.

She was haughty as she ordered Helena to stay back and give her space, but the governess allowed herself to seem gracious about the demands, winking over her highness’s head at head of the stables.  She did give the young woman some room, staying back on the trail but keeping her well within sight.  Soon, they had followed the path away from the castle, and when the trail split, Phillipa took the cleared path into the woods.

The light changed as Helena entered the forest canopy, and she felt her eyes adjusting to the dimness as her brown mare continued along the brushed dirt.  The path winded lazily deeper into the trees, and it became difficult to keep the young princess in sight.  Helena let her wander further than she usually would have, content to hear the horse’s hooves and know they were still fairly close to each other.  They needed to be well out of hearing range of anyone else, which would be the case if Phillipa followed the instructions of “Bartholomew” and his letter.  Just as she thought this, Helena heard the horse ahead slow, and she knew that the princess had spotted the first trail marker for her to follow; a bit of blue string tied inconspicuously to a tree branch.  Abraham had set up the path this morning, marking the way far off the trails and toward a clearing that had been scouted days before.

Helena clicked to her horse and their pace quickened; she wanted the princess to think she had shaken her guardian without actually getting too far ahead.  For almost an hour they continued like this, with the governess occasionally yelling out to her charge in feigned worry, eventually even letting false panic enter her voice as she shouted, “Princess!  I’ve lost you, and we’ve lost the path!  Princess?!”

She could imagine the smug look on Phillipa’s face; she knew the princess could hear but not see her and the foolish girl would no doubt be applauding her own cunning.  Helena followed the strings herself, though, steadily until she knew they were well away from even the deepest set of the servants’ quarters.  Then she clicked again and she and her horse sped up, trotting past the blue strings and catching up with the girl in a matter of minutes.  Helena watched the disappointment bloom on Phillipa’s face when she entered the clearing.  The princess had already dismounted, tied her own horse to a tree, and arranged herself prettily on a fallen log– one that had actually made this spot particularly appealing to Abraham when he had been scouting locations.

The governess resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  Clearly Phillipa had expected her knight to enter momentarily, timed as if he belonged in one of the fanciful stories the royal brats of the castle often told themselves and each other.  Helena slid to the ground effortlessly, ignoring the huffing of the princess, who had shot up and was stalking toward her governess in a rage.  “Leave!  I do not need you here!” she yelled at the older woman.

Helena didn’t so much as flinch as she lead her own horse to be tied, allowing herself to embrace the feeling of truly having the upper hand for once.  “It’s my job to look after you, Princess.  Where else would I be but here?” she said calmly.

“Anywhere else!  I am no child in need of a nursemaid!  I demand you leave at once!” cried Phillipa, her fists clenched at her sides and her eyes wide with anger.

“You are right about that,” Helena said as she turned away from the animals and gave Phillipa her full attention, “you are no longer a child, and I am not a nursemaid.”

Something in the governess’s face finally tipped the spoilt young woman off to the fact that things were not what she thought, and she frowned and took a step back as Helena slowly advanced toward her.

“As to what you need, that I have known for a very long time.  It has pained me to fail you, over and over again, but it was not my choice to make.  As you are about to find out, though, Princess Phillipa, I have taken matters into my own hands.”

Phillipa’s eyes widened as she continued her slow retreat backwards, unconsciously letting Helena steer her back toward the log upon which she’d been lounging moments ago.  “What you need is the discipline you so often seem to seek but never truly feel.  What you need are boundaries, and a firm hand, and someone willing to guide you properly.”

Phillipa’s legs bumped the fallen tree and she plopped down abruptly, still staring at Helena’s face.  Without warning she opened her mouth wide and yelled, “Bartholomew!  Help!  Please help me, sweet knight!”

For the first time since dismounting, Helena was surprised.  The foolish girl still thought there was a knight in shining armor making his way to her, hidden in the woods and ready to save her honor, or at least the virgin skin of her bottom.  Helena laughed, a quiet sound with little mirth.  There was indeed a man waiting in the woods, but he was no knight and his intentions were not kind.  He would make his presence known soon enough, but he certainly would not save her.

The governess took the princess’s chin in her hand, and held her face firmly in place as she spoke.  “There is no Bartholomew, Princess.  There is only a stack of letters in my quarters that I ‘found’ while straightening your room, and one that I ‘intercepted’ with your promises to run off alone with this stranger.”  Helena tightened her grip on the girl’s face.  “You are not leaving here with any stranger.  You are here to finally get the spanking you truly deserve.”

Phillipa actually gasped as she finally began to piece together the information she was receiving, and even with her cheeks being squeezed by the other woman’s hand she tried to say “My father–” but she was cut off immediately.

“Your father will send you to a nunnery if you ever speak of what happens here.  I will show him the letters if you so much as threaten me, Princess, and perhaps I will face consequences but they will be alongside yours and they will have been worth it.

Helena’s voice was deadly as she said this, and a prelude to her changing her grip from the girl’s jaw to her ear.  She dragged the princess up and seated herself on the log, pulling the girl down and across her newly ready lap.  Phillipa kicked her legs, fighting, not able to form words yet through her shock but resisting as best she could.  There was a brief struggle and a cloud of useless petticoats as the two of them wrestled, but it ended with the princess face down, her bare legs exposed and trapped between the strong legs of her governess.  Her many skirts lay piled around her waist, her pantaloons were split wide open around her naked bottom, and her right hand was secured by her side as her left flapped behind Helena’s back uselessly.

The governess felt grim satisfaction at the perfect blank canvas before her.  She ignored the little royal’s struggling and enjoyed the moment.  She had dreamed for years of doing just this, and now she wanted to savor it.  Her free hand rested on the cool skin of the girl’s backside, which was still despite the twitching of so many other muscles as the useless flailing continued.  She patted the bottom gently, even affectionately, recalling the young girl this princess used to be, the one that held such potential, the one who had truly wished for anyone to pay this much attention to her.

“You have grown into a thoroughly nasty, spoiled young woman, Princess.  You have treated me unkindly, embarrassed me and your father, and caused entirely too much undue harm for one young woman.  For this,” and Helena smugly adopted the formal tone she used in the Discipline Room, “you will receive a spanking on your bare bottom, witnessed by Camilla, the whipping girl, and Abraham, her husband.”

Phillipa’s body stilled at these last words and she turned her head wildly from side to side, her movement restricted but her dismay palpable.  She spotted the pair of them as they walked into the clearing, out from the thick copse which had hidden them.  They peered at her unsympathetically, and Helena smiled to herself, happy to have them witness the justice they both deserved here.  Phillipa screeched and renewed her struggling, more desperate than before.  “NO THEY CANNOT I FORBID IT I–”

But her shouts were in vain and ended in a loud cry as Helena brought her hand down sharply on the princess’s as-yet unspanked bottom.  The governess spared her more lecturing for now, instead intent on letting the girl wear herself out.  Phillipa’s round bottom was high in the air and framed beautifully by her bright white undergarments.  Her delicately slippered feet kicked useless at the dirt, and she gasped and yelped with every swat.  Helena had no troubled restraining the girl, whose pampered life had left her fragile and weak.  She watched as the girl’s skin began to color, and made sure to spank well down her thighs.  Because the princess had never been so much as swatted before, it didn’t take long for small bruises to begin forming.  Helena found them incredibly satisfying, and increased the force behind her swats, each one delivering the full potential of the governess’s strong arm and wide swing.

She only slowed when she heard a faint “please,” but she didn’t stop spanking the girl.  Phillipa was barely struggling now, having used most of her energy up quickly.  Helena was pleased with this new development and began to lecture her again.  “Your days of roaming around with your behavior unchecked are over, Phillipa,” she said, purposefully dropping the royal title and treating the princess like the unruly brat she was.  “Do you understand me?” she asked as she placed several swats across the girl’s thighs.

“Yes, yes I understand!” cried Phillipa.

“You will treat me and every other person you meet, from the lowliest chambermaid to the highest ranking noble, with respect and kindness.”

“I will, I swear it.”

“And if you don’t, I will accompany you here, to this very clearing, and I will put you back across my knee, Phillipa, and I will spank you just like this.”  Helena punctuated her entire lecture with swats, and the princess sobbed through all of them.  It was no light spanking, and the girl’s bottom was uniformly bruising now.  When the governess finally slowed and then stopped the spanking, she marveled that Camilla could bear this and more without shedding a single tear as she gently stroked the princess’s hot skin.  She felt an affection for the girl that she thought had died long ago.  She didn’t take time to linger on the feeling, though.  Only one part of the girl’s debt had been repaid, and she had another to atone to now.  Helena took hold of her shoulders and pulled her up, then stood up next to her and pushed her back down, forcing her to sit on the log.  She squealed and tried to stand again, but Helena refused to let her.  The princess sniffled loudly but kept her wet eyes on her governess’s face.

“We aren’t finished,” she said firmly, and Phillipa looked bewildered.  “Why-y-y?” she hiccuped, and Helena raised an eyebrow as she replied.  “Because what always happens to Camilla when she has to pay for your naughtiness, Phillipa?”  The princess shut her eyes tightly and a few tears leaked from the outer corners and down her cheeks.  “She gets the strap,” she managed finally, her voice shaking, “or the cane.  Am I going to be caned?”

Helena knew the princess was picturing the whipping girl’s stripes from this morning, and it terrified her.  The countless punishments she had witnessed over her life had suddenly become very real.  She was already shifting restlessly on the log, unable to keep weight on any part of her swollen bottom for long.  Helena looked over her shoulder at Abraham.  He shook his head slightly, and glanced to his left.  She followed his gaze and saw the wide leather strap he had hanging from a branch beside him.

Helena nodded and turned back to the pitiful little princess.  “Be thankful Abraham is feeling generous.  You are not going to be caned.  You are going to feel the strap.  Though I don’t imagine it’s going to feel like he’s being generous.”

Dawning apprehension was all over the girl’s face as she began to speak.  “But… he can’t… I can’t be…” she fumbled.  Even now, minutes after being released from across her governess’s knee, Helena could see the defiance returning to the princess’s eyes.  “He cannot.  He is common and I am–”

“A spoiled rotten princess.  A brat in need of taming.  A young woman about to be strapped by a very common and very angry man.  I would not worry so much about the common part.”

Summer Flu

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Emma scowled at Danny, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. He had his arms crossed, and he was unimpressed with her scowl. He had just ordered her back into bed, but she had no intention of going. She’d been stuck there for five miserable days with the flu, and she was so tired of being tired. So instead of turning around, she looked defiantly down the stairs, hands on her hips and scowl firmly in place… right up until Danny took a step toward her. She turned back around and stomped into the bedroom, slamming the door and furious with herself. What’s he going to do anyway? she grumbled.

Her scowl grew as she thought about this. Worst he would have done was shoo her back in here, considering he thought she was too weak to even walk down the stairs. Thoughts like these chased themselves around her head, and in a matter of minutes, she had worked herself up to getting out of bed again. This time she didn’t try to sneak down the stairs. She walked out of their room and announced over the railing that overlooked their open kitchen and living room, “I am coming downstairs.” As she took the few steps toward the staircase, she grabbed the railing to steady herself. Maybe she was a little bit more woozy than she thought. She looked up a second later, and back into the piercing eyes of Daniel Kendrick. He had his arms crossed again, and had apparently stepped out of their home office at her announcement just in time to see her stumble at the top of the stairs.

“Emma,” he ground out, but she refused to turn around. Still, she couldn’t quite stand her ground, and so instead she sat down on the top stair. Danny’s eyebrows shot up, and she tried to ignore the way her heart jumped in her chest at his expression. When he started walking up the stairs, she scrambled to stand, but jumping up made her dizzy again and she had to stop and clutch the banister. Danny hurried up the last few steps, wrapping his arms around her and walking them back to the bedroom. “I’m fine!” Emma said, but even she didn’t believe it. She was surprised at how much energy that had taken.

She was far more surprised a second later to find herself horizontal, stomach flat against her boyfriend’s muscled thighs and torso resting on the bed. She shrieked and squinched her face up, preparing herself for the first swat, but it didn’t come. Her whole body stilled, and in the silence she could hear her own breathing, which was much heavier than it should have been for so little activity. She was keenly aware of Danny’s right arm around her waist, holding her across his lap. His left hand tugged up her large t-shirt, then pulled down her underwear in two swift jerks, one on each side. His hand rested on her bared bottom as he began to speak.

“So you are so stir crazy that you would rather take a spanking than stay in bed. Is that what this is, Emma Grace?” he said quietly, his voice low and stern. She groaned softly and felt her face and neck go hot with embarrassment. Maybe she wasn’t exactly thinking just that, but maybe… maybe she had wanted to provoke some sort of response. Maybe. “Well I have bad news for you, kid. Because I am going to spank you,” he continued, gently running his hand up and down across the cool skin of her bottom, “but it is not going to be now. And it is not going to be tomorrow. You are going to stay in this bed, just like the doctor said, until she says it’s okay to be up.” A growl crept into his voice and Emma found herself whimpering through his lecture. “And the very second she says you are allowed out of bed, I am going to put you across my lap, just like this,” and he patted her bottom, “and I am going to spank your pretty backside until it glows.”

Emma buried her face into the bedspread, her ears burning with embarrassment. She felt her eyes well up with tears and she felt terrible for having provoked him at all, after all he’d done to care of her, and this was how— “Eeep!”

A single sharp swat had landed on her backside, and Danny said “None of that, little girl. I am not mad at you. I understand you are bored and frustrated. But bored and frustrated aren’t excuses for this behavior.” He patted her bottom, and she jumped even though he was being gentle again. “And believe me when I say that I am looking forward to you being well as much as you are. Maybe more, now.”

And with that he slid her off his lap, situating her back on his thigh but seated, underwear still bunched around her legs and her arms around his neck, a magnificent pout gracing her features. “I don’t want a spanking,” she mumbled, “I just don’t want to be sick any more.”

“Well you are still sick and you are going to be spanked. All you have left to decide is how bad it’s going to be. Keep up this pouting and I’ll take off my belt when the time comes. Let tomorrow be another day like today, and I’ll get the hairbrush. Let me catch you wobbling near those stairs again,” and his eyes glittered dangerously, “and I will spank you every night for a week. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes, sir,” Emma mumbled into his shirt. She couldn’t help that her mouth was still turned into a frown, though she dared not express any further rebelliousness. She didn’t argue when he tucked her back in a few minutes later. It was still early in the evening, but she was drifting to sleep in a matter of minutes.

~   ~   ~

Danny adjusted the covers around his sleeping girlfriend, then gathered up the small bin full of tissues and replaced the bag, straightening up the room for his patient. She had been so pitiful just three days before, and now she was struggling in a different sort of way. No longer occupied with the worst of the symptoms, she was now mostly just tired and bored. And naughty, Danny thought as he washed his hands for what must have been the thousandth time since she’d gotten sick. He was trying to be patient, but she’d just used up the last of it with that stunt. He suspected Emma might have found herself searching for his limits out of sheer desperation to rid herself of the doldrums. He crossed his arms again as he gazed down at her. Not wise, little girl, he thought to himself. Not wise at all.

~   ~   ~

When Emma woke again, it was almost dark. She noticed immediately that her area was clean again, as it always seemed to be after she dozed. She felt a twinge of guilt at how stubborn she’d been all day, but then she remembered that she was now in trouble, and a nice pout pushed the guilt away and she glared at the plate of saltines that had appeared on her nightstand. A glance at her phone told her it was almost 9pm. She reached for her iPad and began to pull up Netflix, but she hadn’t even gotten to her profile before tossing it gently away again. Emma was tired of watching things. She was tired of reading things. She was really truly and un-ironically tired of sleeping.

The door slowly opened and Danny walked in, carrying a glass of ginger ale. “Good morning,” he said as he placed the ginger ale on the nightstand beside the bed. “It’s not good or morning,” Emma replied grouchily. Danny’s eyebrows raised slowly and she pushed herself back a little, as if the headboard might actually be a secret door. Her boyfriend’s face didn’t look half as pleasant as his greeting had been. He stepped toward her and put his hands flat on the mattress, one on either side of her frame, so that his torso was parallel to hers and their bodies were very close. She pulled the covers up over her nose, but couldn’t seemed to break her wide eyes away from Danny’s. He was calm and unblinking, gazing thoughtfully at her for a moment before leaning down to put his lips against her ear and say quietly, “That’s one.”

“No!” Emma found herself exclaiming as she pulled the covers down from her face, narrowing avoiding hitting his rising body. He replied as he casually walked around to his side of the bed, “Oh yes. That’s one, and if you keep arguing, it will be two. Now sit all the way up.” His voice became more commanding as he let out a string of orders. “Start sipping your ginger ale, and start working on those crackers. I want all of it gone in the next hour, before we go to bed.” He held up a silencing hand before she could protest, “Yes, bed. I don’t think you’ll have any problems sleeping, but if you do, you can spend your time thinking about how you are going to keep from getting to three in the next 24 hours.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open, then shut with a click.  She crossed her arms and fought to make her face passive.  A minute later she reached over and grabbed a cracker and shoved it in her mouth.  She couldn’t see the small smile on Danny’s lips as she fought to chew the dry cracker, but it was there.  He left her alone as he picked up his kindle and glasses; he was quickly absorbed but managed to keep an eye on the clock.  He was happy to see that half of the ginger ale was gone and so were most of the crackers after half an hour, and finished before her time was up.  He quietly put his book down and put his arm around her shoulders.  She had been reading her own book, an actual paperback in her hands.  She leaned into him and he kissed her temple.  “Time for bed, honey.”  She sighed deeply but didn’t argue.  She put her book away and got up just long enough to complete her night time routine.  She was again startled by how quickly she tired, even though her tasks had been simple.

Emma really really did not want to be spanked with his belt, or the brand new hairbrush Danny had recently acquired.  And even though she didn’t want to go back to sleep, the thought of Danny holding her was now very appealing.  She decided she was all finished being mad at him as she pushed herself up against him in the bed.  He turned obliging, molding his body to hers and kissing the back of her head.  They talked a little, mostly mindless and sweet chatter, and soon they were both fast asleep.

~   ~   ~

The next morning, Emma woke before the sun had risen.  Danny was still asleep, having rolled over in the night to his side of the bed.  She brushed her fingers through his hair gently, and then glanced at the bedroom door, biting her bottom lip.

She really wanted to go downstairs.

She slipped one leg out from under the covers and planted it on the floor, then stilled.  Now that she was contemplating the move, she was very aware of her boyfriend’s body heat in the bed and his rhythmic breathing, indications that he was sleeping soundly.  She wanted it to stay that way, though she kept telling herself that he wouldn’t mind anyway.  She just wanted to eat, really, and that was a good thing!  She hadn’t been hungry in so long, and it meant she was getting better, for sure.

As her other foot made its way to the floor and she lay awkwardly twisted, she felt another twinge of guilt.  Maybe she should wake him up.

Even as she thought it, though, she let her torso slide off the bed, snakelike in her movements until she was planted.  Then she stood, and took a step toward the door.  An overwhelming sense of freedom shot through her and she walked a little faster, until she was at the top of the stairs.  Remembering Danny’s look at her wobbling yesterday, Emma decided to sit, carefully, on the top step, and scoot her way to the bottom.  To hush the voice that told her this was all a bad idea, she kept making small compromises, hoping to sooth the warning bells.  She got down the stairs safely.  He would be happy with her for that.  Definitely happy.

She walked over to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and began to rummage for breakfast. The doctor had warned her that her appetite would return much faster than her ability to eat without being sick. At the moment she didn’t care, and she poured herself a large glass of orange juice and put a bagel in the toaster. She grabbed cream cheese, and container of berries, and some yogurt. She almost grabbed the granola, but her arms were full, so she turned to put everything down on the table…

…and found herself looking directly into a pair of very unhappy eyes. Emma almost dropped the food in her arms, but caught herself. “Hi,” she said meekly.

“Three,” Danny replied, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. He wore plaid white and grey pajama pants, the drawstring dangling loosely. His chest and feet were bare and his hair was still mussed. That much authority shouldn’t have been possible from someone who had been asleep just minutes ago, but the air around him seemed to crackle with it. Or perhaps that was Emma projecting— her stomach knotted and she struggled to defend herself in the face of his stern gaze.

“You were asleep, though…” she said, trying to sound confident but hearing the confession in her almost-whisper. And then the actual word he had said caught up with her brain and she dropped everything on the counter to exclaim, “Wait, three?! You were only at one before! You can’t skip—”

“I can. I did. Go back upstairs.”

“But I—”

“Now.”

Emma paused, feeling overwhelmed. She couldn’t move, wanting so badly to argue but also knowing that it wouldn’t do anything but get her in more trouble. And now he was going to use his hairbrush tomorrow, and she knew that’s what he would use, it’s what he always used when she was intentionally naughty, and she hated the hairbrush. One quick glance at this face told her she was seconds away from being carried up the stairs. She heard the toaster pop, her bagel was ready, and it was somehow the signal her brain needed. She glanced back at the slices longingly for a second, and then walked around the kitchen island toward the stairs, where Danny stood, still watching her.

As her right foot landed on the bottom step, a wave of heat rush up her body. She realized that he was hovering nearby so he could walk her up them, and it made her feel small to have him in step behind her. Any argument died on her lips, though, and she forced her left foot up, onto the next one. When they got to the bedroom, she couldn’t help but cast an imploring look up at her boyfriend. She wanted to be anywhere, anywhere, besides back in this bed. She said quietly, “I feel a lot better today, though, I promise.”

Danny nodded, lifted the covers, and said, “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” and she realized in an instant that this wasn’t about her being sick, not this particular small detail. He probably would have let her get out of bed once he woke up, if she had just asked him, if she had just waited for him to or woken him up herself. This was now a battle of wills. She had done exactly what she’d been told not to do, and she was suddenly sure that she’d be regretting that choice in more ways than one. Her shoulders sagged, because she knew, too, that Danny didn’t choose his battles unwisely. He would win. He always did.

And so, she climbed under the blankets and allowed herself to be tucked in, once again. “I’ll be back up in just a minute,” Danny said before kissing her forehead and leaving the room. And he was, with half bagel on a plate, a small glass of orange juice, and a large glass of water. She gave him a shy smile and sat up in the bed, blushing faintly but also a little pleased as he spread a napkin over her lap. He wasn’t too mad at her if he was pampering her, she thought happily. Not that he ever really got mad at her. Danny more just had… expectations. And consequences for not meeting those expectations. He was surprisingly good at dealing with chaos, and would have been described by their friends as laid-back or easy going. He’d told Emma once that it wasn’t that he minded not being in control; he just was or he wasn’t. So if it was his job, or his problem, or someone who belonged to him— like me, Emma thought, smiling— he was fully involved.

She immediately frowned again, because for her, fully involved meant that he was going to spank her tomorrow.  She hated even thinking the word, even though a small voice reminded her that she would feel much better afterwards.  She released a small sigh.  No use thinking about it now.  She picked up the bagel and had a bite.

~   ~   ~

The rest of the day passed almost without incident.  Danny did let her go downstairs in the afternoon, and they watched a movie together.  She didn’t start to nod off until the end, and then she took a nap on the sofa.  She was able to eat soup for dinner without any problems.  There were a few times where she began to protest his ministrations, but then she’d watch his eyes grow dark and she’d back down immediately.  Mostly, she was able to push thoughts of tomorrow aside.  The agitation at not working– Emma’s friends would not have described her as laid-back or easy going– even subsided, partially thanks to Danny’s efforts to keep her distracted.  She suspected he might have pushed off some of his own work obligations, but she didn’t even feel bad about it.  Mostly.

Emma only brushed up against Danny’s limits once more, when it was close to bed and she wanted to shower.  “Bath,” he’d said back to her when she’d mentioned it.  “I don’t want to take a bath,” she’d said back.  “I just want a quick shower.”

“Sorry, love.  Not tonight.  I watched you stumble up the stairs, and you probably should have been in bed an hour ago.  Take a bath tonight, and I’ll sit with you.”

“I said I don’t want to take a bath!” she had said back, with more force than she had intended.

“That’s one,” Danny had replied calmly, even as he went into their bathroom and turned on the tub’s faucet.  She felt a sharp intake of breath as she stared as his back.  What’s he going to do at three this time?! she’d wondered, but with none of the challenge that had led to her very first big act of defiance yesterday.  This time the question was scary.  She had suspected that he was only half concerned with her falling, and half trying to prove a point.  She had also suspected that he wouldn’t be interested in hearing that argument.  She had undressed, and climbed into the bath.

~   ~   ~

It was afternoon before Danny decided to address her punishment, even though she had called her doctor first thing after she woke up.  She spent the morning on edge, not wanting to ask and also wanting badly to know.  Now the moment had arrived.  She was in their office on the desktop, sorting through emails she’d missed or not had the energy to answer before, when he appeared in the doorway.  He leaned against the frame, arms and ankles casually crossed and said, “We need to talk, my girl.”

A small sound of disappointment escaped her, but she quickly got to a stopping point in her work and stood, walking hesitantly from behind the desk to take her boyfriend’s now proffered hand.  He raised her knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently, then pulled her past him and out the door, planting a swat on her backside with his other hand.  “Upstairs and find a corner,” he said, and she did exactly that.

About ten minutes later, Emma heard the soft sound of Danny sitting on the bed behind her.  She clenched her bottom involuntarily as she waited for him to call her out of the corner.  He didn’t make her wait long.  Soon she was standing in front of him, slightly between his spread knees, anxiously pulling at the fabric of her shorts and bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.  It was like all of the energy she’d been lacking all week suddenly returned in an explosion of nerves.  In comparison, Danny seemed perfectly at ease, but then didn’t he always? she thought.  The hairbrush was already sitting on the bed beside him, and that didn’t seem like a good sign.  Daniel Kendrick had large, hard hands and a powerful swing, and when he did use implements, he typically sent her to fetch them near the end of her punishment.

There were times when she was made to explain whatever incident had lead up to the spanking, times when Danny wasn’t exactly sure about the details but was pretty sure she was guilty.  There was even one time when she had successfully explained herself and he had nodded thoughtfully before deciding not to spank her at all.  This time, though, there was no good explanation and they both knew it.  He’d still ask her plenty of questions, she knew he would, but not until she was already sore and sorry and on the brink of begging for him to stop.

He reached out and tugged on the bottoms of her shorts, which slipped off her hips to fall limply on the floor.  They were stuck around her left foot a second later as Danny pulled her forward and across his right knee.  He reached down to pick her up by the torso, swinging her legs up and making her, for the second time that week, horizontal and reaching for the blankets.  His easy maneuvering of her body made her feel especially vulnerable, and she was acutely aware that this time there would be no last minute reprieve.

She buried her face as his right hand pulled her more snugly against his body, and then the first swat fell and she wasn’t thinking about anything except the sharp sting of his palm on her backside.  Danny’s broad hand found its target over and over again, and though her underwear were still up, it didn’t do much to save the round curves of her bottom or the tender skin of her thighs.  He spanked her steadily, turning his hand into a metronome, not losing his rhythm even when she began to squirm, or later when she began to kick.  The only pause came after several minutes, when he decided it was time to lower her white panties.  She moaned into her arms; she always did.  It wasn’t the nudity itself but the lack of autonomy, the voteless decision to strip her of the smallest garment she wore, that made her flush with embarrassment.

There were times when he lingered at this moment, rubbing her back and observing his handiwork, but today he resumed the spanking with a sense of purpose that even in her vulnerable position, Emma recognized.  The echoey cadence of the spanking was interrupted by the noises escaping her, which were happening more and more frequently.  She had always been easy to bring to tears, but usually she did little more than squeak until the end of a spanking, when apologies would come spilling out of mouth.  She knew it was way too early for that, but her bottom already hurt so much!  Her hands, too, couldn’t be contained, though Danny was used to pinning one hand to her side or back.  Emma didn’t like to have them restrained, and so always fought to keep them forward.  At this moment they were both pressed against Danny’s thigh and she was pushing so hard that her back arched and only his strong grip around her waist held her there.

“Please, Danny!” she finally said, and to her surprise and against all precedent, he slowed down.  She relaxed her upper body as best she could, bring her hands in front of her to grab the blankets again.  As the swats slowly faded into gentle caresses, he began to speak.  “I know it has been a very hard week for you, little girl,” he said as his fingertips gently slid up and down her hot bottom and the tops of her thighs, circling the edges of her punished skin, “but I am not currently accepting ‘the flu’ as an excuse for bad behavior.”  He landed a tremendous swat at the end of his statement, then continued over her yelp, “I know it is very trying for you to not be working, and that the boredom probably felt like a punishment.  It wasn’t.”  She groaned as she felt him reach for the hairbrush, but he didn’t pause his lecture.  “By the time I’m finished with you, you will understand the difference.”

He placed the smooth wooden back of the brush against the hot skin of her backside, and pulled her body closer to his, so her side was plastered snugly against his stomach.  He reached up and placed his right hand on her right shoulder, letting it slide down her bicep so that he could untangle her arm and align it with her body, his grip settling firmly on her wrist.  She gave a little kick at this, then said pitifully, “But I’ve been good!”

She couldn’t see the brief affectionate smile on his face, but it was there.  “You have been good about your hands.  And I’m sure now that you will continue being good until I’m finished.  I’m afraid there’s no chance of it otherwise.”

Emma heard the threat in those words and began to scramble when she felt the brush lift a second later.  “No don’t don’t don’t I’m already sorry!  I’m already sorry, Danny!”

Her voice went up an octave at the last word; the brush crashed down and even though Danny knew they weren’t anywhere near the intensity of his usual “finishing” hairbrush swats, Emma was too overwhelmed to tell the difference.  For his part, Danny wanted to make good on his promise– the promise he felt was implicit when he counted to three.  Three promised consequences.  Three promised regret.

He brought the hairbrush down again and again, unfazed by her apologies or her tears or her wildly kicking legs.  Soon all of her words were lost, her entire vocabulary erased save his name, which she repeated with increasing desperation.  Eventually, even that was lost, and all that was left was the sound. Swat. After swat. after swat.

~   ~   ~

When Danny finally ended the spanking, Emma’s bottom was swollen and her breathing ragged.  He knew that it wasn’t the worst spanking he had ever given, but she was delicate now and he felt that as he held her.  Her body was worn and her emotions drained, though she had the strength to cling to his shirt and mumble into his chest, quiet “I’m sorry, sir, I’m so sorry,” while he mumbled his own “It’s okay, baby.  It’s okay,” over her.

She napped without complaint that evening.  He stayed in bed with her, reading while she slept.  When she woke, he massaged her back and rubbed lotion gently over her tender backside.  Emma pouted where she could get away with it, but generally after being spanked she felt small and doting.  She did as she was told, and he lavished praise on her for every small detail.  She even managed to keep from working one more full day.  It helped that she couldn’t bare to sit at the desk.

 

 

 

If You Play With Fire

Standard

“Fuck. Fuck.  A thousand times fuck.”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

“A thousand times fuck off, Connor.  How’s that?”

“Better.  What are we going to do?”

Jade looked around at the backyard, which was currently more ash than grass.  Lisa was out of town, and Jade had had some friends over to sit around the fire pit in the mild winter weather.  That in itself wasn’t a problem; Jade was an adult, and plenty old enough to have a contained party at her house.  This meant that she was too old to forget to put the fire out before she had gone inside and fallen into a deep sleep in the wee hours.  Her best friend, Connor, had slept over and felt partially responsible.  He had convinced her to drag out the fire pit in the first place, and had gone to sleep after she had.  Unfortunately, he was also just as much at a loss over what to do now.  It a total fluke that the grass had caught fire, but a very avoidable fluke if they had just made sure to put the cover on and the flames out.

“I can fix this.  I can fix this.  I can fix this,” Jade was mumbling to herself as she walked around the backyard. Connor looked doubtful, but ready to do whatever he could to help.  Unfortunately, it was at that moment that he heard a car pull up in the driveway.  His eyebrows knit together worriedly as he said cautiously, “Hey Jade…”

She looked up, then followed his gaze toward the driveway.  Her view was obstructed by the house, but she read the signs. Connor turned to see her shoulders visibly sag.  He couldn’t blame her.  He’d had Ms. Eckridge in high school, and she could be scary when she wanted to be.  He shivered a little as he remembered the only time he’d ever been in trouble with her, and the telling-off he’d received.  He’d seen her again since Jade had moved in here, but it was always brief hellos and goodbyes.

“You gotta go, man.”

He looked at Jade as he heard the car door shut.  Miss Eckridge would be walking into the house now.  Jade was making her way toward the back door.  She had her time-to-face-the-music face on.  He followed her, but she turned to him as she reached for the metal handle of the screen door and repeated herself, “You gotta go.  Just go around the house.”

“I have to get my wallet and keys.  Besides, if you’re gonna get yelled at, I should get yelled at, too.”

Jade snorted.  “Okay, tough guy.”

He rolled his eyes and followed her inside.  Lisa was putting her purse down at the kitchen counter and looking confused.  “Hey guys,” she said.  “Why does it smell like smoke?  Is someone burning leaves?  It’s kinda late in the year for that.”

Jade took a deep breath, walked over to the window facing the backyard, and yanked open the blinds. Connor watched Ms. Eckridge’s eyes go wide and she walked quickly over to stand next to Jade and look out the window.  “What the hell happened?” she asked, taking in the large, vaguely circular patch of burnt grass covering her usually nice little backyard.

“I had some friends over and we got the fire pit out, and it got really windy later, and I guess some of the dried leaves in the pile blew out and…” She made a sweeping motion with her hand.

“It burned this much before you could stop it?” Lisa’s eyes were still wide with disbelief, confusion, and worry.  Jade glanced at Connor, then said to the older woman, “Can I say goodbye to him first?”

Connor saw Ms. Eckridge’s features shift, as she put on her impassive teacher face and said, “Of course.”  But Connor didn’t want Jade getting yelled at by herself, not when he had been just as dumb.  “It wasn’t her fault,” he blurted out.  “I went to bed later than she did and I should have doused it.  It was mostly just embers but still, it was my bad.  I’ll pay for the damage.”

Jade closed her eyes in frustration and brought both her hands to her forehead as she sighed, “Coonnnoorr.” Miss Eckridge’s attention all on the younger woman, and she spoke through her teeth now.  “You went to bed with a fire still going?”

Connor started to interject again but Lisa held up a silencing hand without even looking in his direction, her eyes still on Jade, who slowly cracked her eyes open and said, “Yes, ma’am.”  Connor felt compelled to look out for his best friend and couldn’t stop himself from interrupting. “I said I would put it out though.  It’s my fault, Miss Eckridge.”

Lisa’s eyes snapped over to look at the young man in her kitchen, and he took an involuntary step back, though she hadn’t moved an inch in his direction.  “Her house, her responsibility Connor.  You need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving!  I’ll help… clean it up,” he said uncertainly.

Jade gave him a frustrated look and said “There’s no more fire, nothing we can do right now.  Just go.”

“I’m not going,” he said stubbornly.  He wasn’t sure why he felt so sure that he needed to stay, but he did.  He wasn’t the best guy who ever walked the earth but he was loyal to a fault, and something about this felt like trouble, though he couldn’t figure out what exactly he was afraid was going to happen.  Lisa threw her hands up, saying to Jade as she walked away, “Work it out.  I’ll be back down in thirty minutes.”  And she grabbed her small rolling suitcase and walked down the hall toward the stairs and up to her room.

As soon as they heard the first stair creak, Jade pulled the blinds shut and walked over to Connor, grabbing his wallet from the small dining table and shoving it into his chest before physically pushing him toward the front door.  “Bye, Connor.”

He dug his feet in, pushing back against her.  He was several inches taller than her and lanky, and easily turned around to avoid being herded.  “I’m not going!  What is she gonna do to you?  She can do it to me, too.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.  Just go home, Connor!”

“No,” he said, crossing his arms stubbornly and planting his feet.  “I’m staying.”

“You know what, fine.  Stay.  Enjoy being a hero.  It’s not gonna make my ass feel better tomorrow, though, I bet you that.”  She stomped down the hall and yelled up the steps, “We’re ready, Lisa!” in an irritated voice, though barely five minutes had passed.  She stomped back into the living room and sat on the couch, arms crossed, adding a quick, “Come on, Connor.  Come sit.  Let’s wait on the grand finale together.”  He made his way nervously toward the couch and did sit next to her.  After a few minutes of silent fuming, she even uncrossed her arms and leaned against him.  He didn’t speak, but watched the ticking second hand of the clock on the wall.

A few minutes later Lisa did come downstairs; they heard her walk through the kitchen and rummage for something before she entered the living room. Jade groaned as she saw the wooden spoon in her mentor’s hand, and Connor eyes were glued to it.

“He’s still here?” Lisa asked Jade.

“He’s too stubborn for his own good.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“It’s not my favorite thing but I just want to get it over with.”

“And does he–”

“I’m right here!” Connor interjected indignantly, though as both women turned their full attention on him, he suddenly wished he was anywhere else.  Lisa contemplated him for a moment, then pointed at a chair behind her. “Sit,” she said, pointing. Connor looked over at Jade, who made her eyes wide as if to say “what are you waiting for?!” So, Connor got up from the couch and moved to the chair, and Lisa took his spot.

She put her arm around Jade and said, “Do I need to go over why you are about to be spanked?” The younger woman felt her face begin to burn with embarrassment. Now that the moment was here, having Connor around seemed like the worst possible idea.  She resisted the urge to glance in his direction and just nodded.  Lisa must have been feeling sympathetic, because she accepted the nonverbal response.  But of course, Connor wasn’t finished yet.

“You can’t do this!  You can’t… spank her.  She’s 27 years old!”

This time it was Jade who exploded, leaning forward and shaking her hands in Connor’s direction.  “You see any handcuffs?  Does this place look like a prison to you?  I told you to leave.  You stayed.  So shut the fuck up, Connor.  It’s bad enough that you’re here without you talking. Besides, you’ll get your turn,” she added caustically. “Fair’s fair, right?”

And before anything else could be said, she flung herself across Lisa’s lap.  The teacher rubbed her back for a moment as she shared a silent exchange with Connor.  He had finally been startled into silence, and she felt confident he would remain that way for a while.  She leaned down, running her fingers through Jade’s hair and whispering things he could not hear, though he noticed Jade seemed to scoot even closer to Ms. Eckridge’s body and her right arm curled around the woman’s left ankle.  When the first swat landed, he jumped at the noise, though Jade didn’t seem fazed.  The soft thud of a hand on denim didn’t last long.  Soon the girl’s pants were around her ankles, and Connor watched as his friend’s brown skin began to turn pink around the edges of her underwear.  He winced with every swat.

Jade was being unusually stoic.  For all her bravado, she usually spent her time over Lisa’s lap whining and kicking, sometimes arguing about how unfair things were and sometimes promising the moon if she thought that’s what Lisa wanted from her.  Today, though, she felt guilty, angry, and embarrassed.  So she didn’t do much wiggling… at first.

Soon after Jade’s body began to shift, Lisa broke her steady rhythm and reached over to grab the spoon.  She clutched it firmly in her hand and leaned down again to talk in Jade’s ear. Connor was transfixed; he was mortified to be watching and equally unable to look away.  He heard his friend groan into the pillow, her fist coming down in front of her to bang the couch.  Then he watched as Lisa slowly pulled down the black and white striped underwear she wore, revealing a bottom that was already a dusky shade of pink.  Soon the spanking had resumed and this time it was a wooden spoon landing on bare skin.  The sound was distinctly different and his mouth was hanging open as he watched white oval patches appear and disappear.  Jade was making lots of noises and moving all over Lisa’s lap by the time the woman finished. Connor seemed not to exist as the older woman rubbed Jade’s back and bottom, then fixed her underwear and pulled her up into a hug before sending her with a push toward the corner of the living room.  She didn’t even glance in Connor’s direction.

Ms. Eckridge, however, shifted her full attention to the young man sitting in her living room.  “Well?” she asked.  “Are you ready to go home now?”

“No,” he replied immediately, though his voice sounded much higher than it normally did.

“You are going to take the same consequences as Jade?”

“Yes,” he said, and then at her raised eyebrow, “…ma’am.  Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she replied, “because I happen to agree with you.  You deserve a spanking almost as much as she did.  Come here.”

Connor rose, and walked unsteadily to the side of the couch where his former teacher still sat.  She gestured at his belt and jeans.  “Undo those, please.”  He did so, fumbling and blushing the entire time, and then took the hand she offered him.  She guided him down over her lap, and adjusted his body until she felt comfortable.  She wrapped her left arm around his waist, then rested her right hand on his denim clad bottom for only a moment before she brought it up and back down. Connor’S eyes darted back and forth as he thought about what was happening.  It stung, though barely.  But she was spanking him.  It was really happening.

He was almost comfortable, and he began to wonder if maybe she would leave his jeans up because it was his first time.  No such luck– she pulled them down without so much as a warning, and when her palm landed on the thin cloth of his blue boxers, he heard himself yelp.  There was suddenly nothing comfortable about this position, and he tensed his arms in an effort not to reach back.  Before he could analyze his thoughts on this second phase of the spanking, she began to scold him.

“You know, I think Jade is fully aware of what went wrong last night, Connor. I think that you think you’re getting spanked because you stuck around. Because you’re still here. Well let me make something very clear to you,” Ms. Eckridge said, picking up the pace and adding some strength to her swats, “you are being spanked because you made poor choices. Under no circumstances should either one of you have gone into the house for the night, much less crawled into bed, with a fire still burning.”

Connor was unable to control his rear, though no amount of wiggling seemed to keep the teacher’s hand from landing on his quickly reddening behind. He made constant noises, little grunts of pain, and felt his blush intensify at her scolding.

“And it’s not because I’m upset, or just because there are physical consequences for girls and boys who misbehave in this house. It’s not because of the damage to my property, though I am not particularly thrilled about that.” Her hand seemed to be finding the meeting of his thigh and bottom more and more often at this  point in the lecture. “You put people needlessly in danger. It may have felt like a low risk, but it was also low reward, young man. You are lucky the fire just burnt a big hole in my yard. What if the wind had carried those escaped leaves further? To my house? To the neighbors’ houses?”

“I’m sorry!” Connor said, straining to stay still.

“No,” Ms. Eckridge replied, “sorry comes next.” She stopped spanking, and the young man took several deep breaths; his backside burned! She rubbed his back and bottom as she spoke, though not to him. “Jade, come over and have a seat.”

“Lisa…”

“I’m not asking, I’m telling.” Connor heard the chair he had vacated scoot a little, then a hiss from his friend as she sat. He didn’t turn his head to see, instead becoming engrossed in the floral pattern of the sofa.  Ms. Eckridge began talking to him again, saying “We’re almost finished, Connor. I wish it was over now, but this was a big deal. Very big.” And the next thing he knew, his boxers has been whisked down to his knees. He reached back with his right hand, grabbing for them and turning his head without thinking.  He made eye contact with Jade, squeaked and jerked his hand back as he turned toward the couch again.

“Give me that hand,” he heard the voice above him say firmly, and he reluctantly did as he was told, slowly reaching his right hand back and having it grasped around the wrist.  The next thing he knew, pain was exploding on his already sore bottom and he completely forgot about Jade, and being embarrassed, and anything that existed in the whole wide world besides the awful smack of the wooden spoon on his hot bare skin.

Thankfully, it seemed to be finished almost as soon as it was started. The throbbing ache in his bottom continued, and she let go of his hand, rubbed his back and his hair.  He leaned into her comforting touch, needing it more than he had realized he would. Soon, he felt his underwear and jeans being pulled up, though he could have done without the jeans. He sat up and felt himself being hugged, and he hugged her back hard. He felt like he should say something, but he had no idea what. He opened his mouth, and all that came out was “ouch.”

Both women burst into laughter, and he peeked up to see Jade smiling at him. “You’re an idiot for staying,” she said affectionately. He grinned back at her. Maybe she was right, but not all the way right. His bottom hurt and his pride was bruised, but he wasn’t worried or anxious like he had been all morning. He felt like he had just joined a secret club, one with high dues, but totally worth the cost.