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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.”

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Summer Flu

Standard

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 blue eyes of Daniel Strauss. 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 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.” 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 a wooden spoon, 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 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 blue 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 he 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, this time 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 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.  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 Strauss 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 it’s 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.

 

 

 

Pool Party

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Tonight was perfect.

Jade smiled to herself as she took a sip of her drink, some fruity sweet thing she would never have picked herself, but it fit the mood of the party.  It wasn’t a huge blowout, but close to two dozen of her friends were lounging around, some in the pool, some sitting on the edge, others by the make-shift bar they had set up with liquor bottles and solo cups.  They were all adults, real adults, and getting off for a night was no small task.  She had done the coordinating, but Harper had done the PR– that’s why tonight was a success.  That, and she suspected her friends had the same niggling sense of sudden adulthood that she so desperately wanted to shake, if only for a night.  So babysitters had been called and work notices had been turned in, and somehow she had pulled it off.

“It,” of course, wasn’t just a simple pool party.  They were in the gym of Harrison High School, using the pool facilities, unbeknownst to Jade’s mentor and friend, Lisa Eckridge.  She had been Jade’s protector and unofficial guardian while Jade attended Harrison High, and now they were roommates.  Lisa still looked out for the younger woman, perhaps even more than she had before; certainly she was more hands on.  Jade squirmed as that thought crossed her mind.  Lisa had no idea they were at the school now.  Jade had swiped her keys earlier that day, knowing her teacher friend wouldn’t be looking for them again until Monday morning before work.  It had seemed so brilliant when she’d conceived the plan.  The facilities were free and empty this late at night, and she knew the crowd would leave the place as clean or cleaner than they found it.  Harper had encouraged the idea from the beginning, and even Candace and Connor had been persuaded fairly easily that it was a fool-proof plan.

Not that Lisa would see it that way, but Jade was planning on Lisa not seeing it any which way, please and thank you.  She was supposed to be out at a wine tasting with some of her friends, and Jade had indicated that she might not be home much over the weekend.  If everything went like it was supposed to, they’d be catching up Sunday over dinner, with Lisa none the wiser.

* * *

Even as Jade was settling her troubled mind, Lisa was throwing her car into reverse and leaving the driveway of her home, where she had arrived just a few minutes prior.  It was just after ten and she’d had a nice evening out, disturbed only by a phone call from a friend who worked at a local security firm.  It was the same company that secured the school where she worked, and the friend hadn’t called with good news.  The silent alarm had been triggered, even though no one had broken into the facilities.  Lisa wouldn’t usually be first on the call list, but the young man who had been on duty had pulled up the security cameras and recognized Jade.  He had done Lisa a huge favor by contacting her first, though her gratefulness was clouded by her anger right now.

She paused at the stop sign at the end of her block and took a few deep breaths.  She needed to be calm, at least on the drive over.  Once she was parked, though, all bets were off…

* * *

Candace was by the swinging double doors fixing a drink when they burst open.  She nearly dropped the two liter of coke, and she felt her eyes go round as saucers as Lisa stormed into the room.  The banging of the doors caused most of the attendees to look up, and Candace wasn’t surprised to see more than a few drinks almost slip.  There was near silence as every face turned to see Ms. Eckridge, former teacher to most and terrifying figure to any, standing in the sudden echoey quiet of the room.

“Get. Out,” she said loudly, and the effect was instantaneous.  Suddenly people were gathering towels and hopping out of the pool, some shoving dry pants over wet suits while others merely grabbed for their shoes and began scurrying for the door.  They may have been a group of adults, but every one of them suddenly felt the butterflies of trouble that had been absent for almost a decade.  Lisa didn’t help matters, as she began scolding the individuals trying to make their ways discreetly to the parking lot.

“I see you scurrying, Hunter Ferguson, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

“Don’t you think for a second I won’t be talking to your big brother, Mary Ellen! You, too, Maria!”

“John Michael Morgan, you better put that drink down before you walk out these doors!”

On and on she went, calling almost every party-goer by name as they bashfully made their ways toward the exit.  The entire room had cleared in a matter of minutes, leaving only Jade, Candace, Harper, and Connor to face Lisa’s still fiery wrath.  Before the swinging doors had fully stilled, she had locked her eyes on Jade from across the room and began to advance on her, looking like a lioness who has just cornered her prey.

“This was your idea,” she said, and it wasn’t a question or an accusation, just a fact.  Jade backed up, glancing surreptitiously around the room but finding no place to go.  She held her hands out defensively, uselessly, as she struggled to find words that would stop, or even just delay, the advancing woman, but suddenly she was out of time.  Her face twisted in horror as she felt herself being dragged a few steps over and plunked across Lisa’s suddenly bent knee.

Jade was too shocked to struggle at first as she realized her feet weren’t touching the ground, but the shock didn’t last long.  “Lisa!!!!! Not here!” she squealed, kicking her feet and flailing her arms from her undignified perch.  She actually heard Candace gasp, and she shut her eyes before she could see or hear the others, who had to be watching.  Jade felt the black shorts she wore over her black bikini bottoms being pulled down, despite her desperate kicks.  She didn’t understand how Lisa could be so strong- was this the same thing as mothers lifting cars in a rush of adrenaline?  Was Lisa actually a super hero in disguise?  Maybe she had started taking steroids!

And then Jade’s ridiculous speculation was cut off as the first swat descended on her wet bottom, bare hand on the bare skin of her left cheek below the swimsuit.  Another came shortly after, and another and another, until Jade’s backside finally matched the blush that had graced her cheeks since the moment she’d been hoisted up into this position.  Her body was pulled firmly against the older woman’s, and her hand had finally settled awkwardly on Lisa’s thigh; she could see the woman’s white sneaker upclose from where it rested up on a chair.  No amount of wiggling or yelling phased the teacher as she brought her hand down on the hapless girl’s bottom, and the pool room echoed with the noise of Jade being spanked.

After a solid minute of rapid spanking, Lisa used both hands to pull Jade down. She put her foot on the floor and then plunked the young woman down into the newly vacated chair. Jade let out an involuntary yelp when her throbbing bottom made contact with the rough plastic, then quickly bit her bottom lip as she looked up into Lisa’s fiery eyes. Her former teacher didn’t seem any calmer, as she towered over her, yelling, “Do you have any idea what kind of liability this is for me? This is not some small town school system! I could lose my job if something went wrong tonight! Or you would go to jail! Or both!”

As she paused for breath, a sob echoed behind her. Lisa whipped around, and Jade felt a guilty sense of relief to have the attention off of her. She looked around to see Harper throwing an arm around Candace, who had both hands covering her mouth and tears streaming down her face. Jade grimaced. Her poor friend. The lecture was scaring the shit out of Jade, but Candace skipped right to feeling guilty. She noticed Lisa’s shoulders heave and drop with a deep sigh, and she let out a sigh of her own. She would put money down that Lisa had just snapped out of the yelling portion of the evening.

“Come here,” Lisa said, gesturing to the girls, “yes, you, too, Connor… here… sit.” She waited while the three of them pulled chairs up to sit on either side of Jade, all careful to keep their backsides far away from Lisa. In a moment they were seated, with Jade slouched awkwardly to keep as much of her bottom off the chair as possible. Lisa was having none of it. “Sit. Up.”

When she had them all sitting up straight and focused on her, Lisa began speaking again. No yelling now. Her voice was deceptively calm. “I am very disappointed in the choices you have made tonight. There are consequences you did not consider, consequences that could significantly alter my life, consequences you would have known if you had come to me first with this ludicrous plan.” She focused her attention on each of them in turn, making sure they felt the gravity of her words. “Instead, you were deceitful. You lied to me. You stole from me. And all these decisions that you convinced yourselves were small and inconsequential have landed you in a heap of trouble tonight.”

Now Candace wasn’t the only one with wet eyes, and they all kept their eyes on the floor as they obeyed her clipped command of “Follow me.”

They made a pitiful little line as they followed Lisa into the girl’s locker room; something about it made all four of the young adults blush even harder. They waited along the wall of the main room, across from a long bench and surrounded by dinged up gray lockers. Lisa had moved around the corner to the showers, where they heard her rummaging a moment before returning. Connor let out the groan they all felt when they spotted the long wooden bathbrush in her hand.  He had only recently found himself subject to the disciplinary actions of Ms. Eckridge, and though he consented fully and felt more fulfilled than he ever had since becoming a part of this hodgepodge family, he was no fool. That thing looked wicked.

Jade gnawed on her bottom lip again, while Candace and Harper exchanged worried glances.  Lisa had threatened them both over the years, even planted a swat or two on occasion, but Jesse had always been there to take whatever measures she deemed appropriate.  Both trusted Lisa like they trusted their big sister, but it was a small comfort when they saw the bathbrush. And both were calculating the odds of Jesse paddling them again anyway- Harper shuddered. Best not to think about that yet.

“You four understand why I’m upset?” Lisa asked. Four “yes ma’ams” were mumbled and she barely let them finish before saying “Are you talking to me or the tiles beneath your feet? Because I didn’t catch that.”

“Yes, ma’am!” came four louder replies, and she continued scolding as she paced in front of them, “Now I know how smart the lot of you are. How generally responsible. But this is not the sort of thing that slides by, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” came four solemn voices.

“I expect better, so I will get better. Now, every one of you take about five steps forward and put your hands on that bench. No, Jade, I don’t want to hear it,” she said, cutting off the girl’s protest before it could begin. “You all are responsible, you screwed up together, you can be punished together. Now move it.”

Slowly and awkwardly, they all shuffled forward, no one daring to look any direction but straight ahead. One by one they bent over, spread along the bench, still in their swimsuits.  Jade’s shorts had been kicked off during her trip across Lisa’s knee, and her bottom glowed dusky pink around the edges of her black suit. She squeaked as she suddenly found her bottoms yanked down to her knees. Harper was next to her; bent down and peering at the upside-down world behind her, she had just an instant of warning before her bottoms, too, were jerked down to rest around her thighs. Candace, dressed in a white one piece, moaned softly with a strange mix of embarrassment and gratitude when her round cheeks were exposed by the upward tugging at her suit. It mortified her to have a wedgie, but she wouldn’t have been able to stand being naked. Connor was last, and he found his baggy board shorts dropped just as unceremoniously as his friends’ had been.

Lisa surveyed the four bared backsides, arms crossed over her chest with the bathbrush still clutched in her right hand. They were a pitiful group, and she felt a moment of sympathy and a faint impulse to offer them comfort. A stronger voice told her honesty was kinder in the long run, and so she said sternly and simply, “Do not expect this to be easy,” before walking over to Jade and resting her left hand on the small of her back. She tested the weighty head of the circular brush a few time, and then delivered a heavy thwack onto the girl’s already sore bottom. It was the first of ten, each placed with steady deliberateness, completely unconcerned with the doleful noises Jade made or the small kicks and wiggles she couldn’t help. The only pause came at swat eight, when a naughty hand reached back to cover her swollen bottom, to be met only with a sharp “move it,” and followed by two swats so hard that the other three committed themselves silently to not moving an inch.

Easier said than done, of course.  Lisa wrapped an arm around Harper’s waist next, bracing herself between Harper and Jade, and began again. Thwack. Harper was generally vocal, and always one to move around.  She had rarely been spanked in this position, though, and never with anyone besides Candace.  Being bent over embarassed her into near silence, though she bent her knees nearly to the floor with every swat and barely made it to ten without reaching back. Her bottom felt immediately swollen; she could almost feel the two perfect circles that now graced the round curves of her butt.

Candace was the opposite of her little sister, practically screaming each time the heavy wood made contact with her bare skin. She remained motionless, though, through the strength of her desperate need to atone.

Connor sucked in a deep breath as he felt his former teacher slide between his body and Candace’s, and he wondered briefly if she would go easy on him since this was only his second spanking. The next second he felt the explosive pain of a well-placed swat on his right cheek and he was most certain that she was doing no such thing. He cried out and reached his hand back after just two more, but it was back in front of him and on the bench before Lisa could say anything. He made it to ten, but felt no relief, no movement from the woman paddling him. Instead she said, “Connor, I admire and appreciate your willingness to accept consequences along with your buds. You’re a loyal friend. Maybe next time, though, you should consider how to avoid getting your bare bottomed spanked alongside the girls.  Use that head on your shoulders, little boy.” Before he could even get out a full yes “ma’am,” Lisa had tightened her grip around his stomach and was spanking him again, still with the bathbrush except now with fast, stinging swats that hurt less individually but were somehow even harder to tolerate. He was embarassed to feel himself kicking desperately, managing to keep himself supported only because of his hands on the bench and Lisa’s firm grasp.

It was over quickly, and he felt his shorts being pulled back up a moment later. Lisa’s hand rubbed his back for a moment, and then he felt himself being guided upward and turned around.  He threw his arms around the teacher, feeling two inches tall and not two inches taller than her, and found comfort in the hug she returned.  After a few seconds, though, he was gently pried off and sent with a gentle push back to the wall to stand and wait for her to finish.  He kept his face pointed away, but when she said simply and quietly, “no,” he knew what she meant and turned slowly around. He winced as he saw their bottoms, knowing his looked much the same, and then tried to prepare for what was next.

Lisa was going back up the line, her strong left arm now back around Candace, and she spoke low, like she had for Connor. Candace heard every word clearly, though.  “You know better than this, young lady.  You have been taught to look at all the possible consequences of your actions before you take them. You will not become swept up in this sort of nonsense again.”  Then the brush was flying, and Connor had no idea how Candace managed to stay so still because these swats were definitely harder than what Lisa had given him, and then it was quiet again, almost as quickly as it had begun.

Moments later, Candace’s suit had been fixed and her forehead kissed, and she was standing next to Connor along the wall, tears still streaming down her face.  Lisa slipped between the remaining two girls, and for Harper’s ears only she said, “You are getting too old to play the sidekick, little girl. You know a bad idea when you hear one.  Your enthusiasm for life makes you easy to adore, but you will not let it cloud your judgement like this again or I’ll buy Jessie a bathbrush myself.”  The second syllable of Harper’s “yes, ma’am” screeched up an octave as Lisa began spanking her again, waking up every little pain that had begun to subside. This time Harper kicked and squealed, but it did her little good and moments later she was standing next to Candace, grabbing her hand as they waiting for Jade’s punishment to be over.

The poor girl let out a whimper, and her friends all felt immense sympathy for her position. They had no doubt she would be getting the worst of it, and she had already been spanked earlier. Though they couldn’t hear the lecture Jade was given– if you haven’t learned yet what you can and can’t get away with, you’re gonna learn soon, and if that means you never sit comfortably again, well you can just take a guess at where that lands on my priority list— but they heard the pitiful noises she made the entire time, and their ears burned in sympathy. Soon the sounds of spanking filled the locker room again, and they seemed to go on forever. Connor found himself reaching for Candace’s other hand, and they all watched as their friend and ringleader had her bare bottom paddled until every inch, from the top of her bottom to the top of her thighs, seemed to glow.

Lisa comforted Jade as she had the other three, then walked with her arm around her charge back to the wall. All the fire was gone from her eyes, and the sharp angry angles of her face had softened into exasperated affection.  She reached her free arm out to gently cup Harper’s face as she said, “you two sleeping at my house tonight?” They both nodded gratefully, and Connor managed a small smile as he realized it was assumed he’d crash there.

“Good,” Lisa said, “let’s clean up and go home.”

The Whipping Girl

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Helena sighed as she eyed the smug face of her charge, Princess Phillipa. The young woman was reporting to her for chastisement, having nicked a basketful of treats from the kitchen that morning. The cook would be getting an earful from Helena later, because he had gone straight to the king instead of the governess, which meant she had to dole out what would be deemed a proper punishment- and to the king, that meant a public spanking. Helena didn’t have a problem spanking Phillipa; she would like nothing better, in fact. However, it was the law of the land that no one could touch a hair on the young royal’s head, and so every swat landed on the poor rear end of Camilla, a young peasant woman who had been plucked from the village and “honored” with the task of accepting the princess’s punishments with as much grace as she could muster.

This was how they found themselves in the Discipline Room, a small space reserved for just such events. At the front was a raised platform, on which sat a straight-backed wooden chair. Behind the platform, mounted on the wall, was an intimidating array of paddles, canes, and straps. Helena eyed them as she walked down the center of the room, between three short rows of benches. The room could probably seat two dozen people comfortably, though Helena had never seen it close to filled. Today, there were three spectators: the cook, who sat on the right row closest to the door, looking pompous; his assistant, who sat beside him, looking curious; and the king himself, who sat on a small throne against the back left wall.

The princess followed the governess in, walking obediently with downcast eyes and a wholly fake attitude of compliance. The king might see her as his contrite little girl, but the governess knew her for the conniving young woman she was. All of Helena’s sympathies were with Camilla, who sat nervously on the front row, awaiting a punishment she hadn’t earned or asked for, but would nevertheless be receiving. It was her job to endure the spanking just as it was Helena’s to give it, and they would both be fulfilling their duties today.

The governess reached the chair and seated herself, arranging her long black and grey skirts around her legs so they pooled on the stone floor by her feet. Phillipa stood to her left, hands clasped behind her, looking down at the waiting lap, the corner of her mouth slightly turned up in a smirk no one but Helena could see. Helena’s own mouth was a tight line, and she was satisfied to see the princess’s smile fade when they made eye contact. Helena knew how to make the princess behave without laying a finger on her, which was how she’d kept the position longer than any other governess, and most of the staff knew better than go over her head. The cook was new. He would learn, though.

“I am so very disappointed to hear about the theft of pastries from the kitchens, Princess Phillipa. You could have anything you desired with a simple request, but you chose to be naughty and disrupted Cook’s work. For this, you will receive a spanking and a strapping on your bare bottom, witnessed by your father the King.”

“Yes, Governess,” came the docile reply, and Helena patted her lap. Camilla rose from her bench and came forward, mirroring Phillipa’s position on Helena’s right side. Both women wore fine dresses over puffy white pantaloons, though the room would be treated to a view of only one pair. Phillipa took the whipping girl’s newly vacated seat, which would give her a perfect view of the other woman’s soon to be bared bottom. Helena turned, sympathy gone from her face now that she had a task to hold her focus. She lifted Camilla’s skirts, and the other woman obediently made to hold them up as the governess reached for the loosely tied strings that would allow the back of her billowy white underwear to fall open. Camilla’s face became heated with embarrassment, and Helena wasted no time. She pulled the girl across her lap, adjusted her slightly, and then began applying the palm of her hand with quick vigorous swats.

As the girl’s bottom became more heated, her feet began to kick. Helena glanced at the face of the princess, and noticed a look of glee at this development. No one else could see, as all eyes were focused on the girl being spanked, but Helena saw and she didn’t like it. She paused and rubbed the bottom in front of her, leaning down as she did so to whisper firmly in Camilla’s ear, “Keep still. Not so much as a twitch.”

She heard a little moan escape the woman, so low no one else would hear, but Helena ignored the pitiful sound and resumed the spanking, not holding anything back as the swats echoed in the small chamber. She was pleased to see Camilla’s feet still, toes pointed obediently toward the floor. She could feel the muscles of the whipping girl’s stomach tighten occasionally, especially when harder swats fell low across her bottom. They were tense and hard against the governess’s sturdy thighs. Helena knew it felt cruel, that in some ways it was cruel to be spanking the woman so hard from the start. She wouldn’t being doing her any favors if she didn’t warm her up properly, though. There was still the strap to come, and the watchful eye of the King.

Mindful of this, Helena bent over, pulling the young woman’s body closer with her left arm and swinging her right arm mightily, listening to the carefully controlled breathing that she knew was Camilla’s only hope of being still. Eventually her arm slowed, then stopped, and she rubbed small circles across the girl’s back and bottom. She took a moment to look at the King, whose impassive face shared little of his thoughts. The cook looked mortified, as did his assistant, both embarrassed to witness the humiliation of an innocent girl. Phillipa looked bored, which satisfied Helena. There was no chance of the selfish princess feeling genuine contrition, so the best the governess could hope for was to not provide a show for the spoiled young woman. She eased Camilla up, then stood herself and arranged the whipping girl so that she was bent over the chair, bottom blazing and bared, framed by the white pantaloons that contrasted sharply with the color of her freshly spanked backside, face turned up toward the wall of implements.

The governess made a show of looking sternly at the princess, then eyeing the display, as if contemplating the appropriate measure to take. In reality, she knew exactly which strap she planned to use. It was a brown and supple piece of leather, heavy and loud, hanging by its polished wooden handle. She saw Camilla looking at the canes, wide-eyed at the quantity of them, ranging from whippy and thin to thick and terrifying. Despite her penchant for trouble, Phillipa hadn’t managed to get the whipping girl caned… yet.

Helena took her favorite strap, and moved to bend down face to face with the waiting and embarrassed woman leaning over the chair. She tipped her chin up slightly with her finger, and said in a low voice that carried only from her mouth to the girl’s ear: “Not a wiggle. Not a peep.” Camilla shut her eyes tight for a second and then opened them again, meeting Helena’s and whispering, “yes ma’am.” The governess walked slowly to the edge of the platform, affording her plenty of room to swing. She announced loudly, as the king would expect, “Twenty-two with leather. One for every year of your life, Princess Phillipa. May we not have to repeat this lesson again.” And with that, she brought the strap sizzling down on the bared bottom in front of her, letting the echo of the sharp “thwack” die off before she brought it down again, and again, until she had reached twenty-two. She was proud to see  Camilla keep her stoic silence until the end, letting the only evidence of her struggle be her white-knuckled grip on the chair.

The governess turned and looked to the king, who nodded. Phillipa stood and practically pranced to the back of the room, going to stand by her father and laying her head sweetly on his hand where it rested. “Have you learned your lesson?” he asked. “Oh yes, Papa. That was just terrible. I’ll never do it again,” she said, her voice saccharine sweet. “Good girl,” he replied, standing and putting an arm around her, and he walked with her out of the room, without a glance back toward the stage. The cook and his assistant followed awkwardly.

“Good girl,” whispered Helena quietly as she fixed Camilla’s pantaloons and lowered her skirts gently. “Such a very good girl.”

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If You Play With Fire

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“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.

Power Exchange

Standard

“Ben, come on babe! We were supposed to be on the road ten minutes ago.”

“I’m coming!”

~ ~ ~

“Honey, we’re going to miss our flight. I told you to eat before we left.”

“I wasn’t hungry earlier! It’ll just take a minute to order.”

~ ~ ~

“Benjamin, put the phone away. They have already asked you twice.”

“It doesn’t matter, Oliver. My one phone is not going to be the reason our flight crashes.”

Oliver leaned in very close to Ben, who sat by the window in their row of three. “No, it won’t be. Because it will be turned off and stowed in the seat back pocket in the next thirty seconds.” Ben glared at his boyfriend, a frown on his face that looked distinctly pouty, but Oliver continued talking in the same low controlled voice, “You have used up the very end of my patience, little boy. Your behavior from this moment until we land better be close to perfect, or the first thing I’m going to ask your brother is if I can borrow his hairbrush.”

Ben squirmed in his seat, glancing around the cabin conspicuously as he stowed his phone, but no one was paying attention to him besides Oliver. He crossed his arms and slouched in his seat, pulling his hoody lower over his head and across his eyes, all under the watchful glare of his disapproving boyfriend.

~ ~ ~

They made it to Danny and Emma’s without incident, much to Oliver’s surprise and relief. Ben’s efforts to sulk had lead to an accidental nap, which seemed to have improved his mood. It was a fun reunion for the brothers, who only saw each other a few times a year, and their respective partners got along like old friends.

The next morning, however, Ben’s bad attitude was back in full force. He was cranky about getting up for breakfast, so Oliver let him sleep; then he was mad that he had missed it. He stomped around the kitchen, looking for cereal and complaining loudly. He shut a cabinet door with particular ferocity, the bang echoing loudly through the house. Ben’s shoulders hunched and he froze, not wanting to turn around as he heard two doors swing open. He slowly peeked over his shoulder, then turned to see his boyfriend standing with his arms crossed in the guest room door, leveling a glare in his direction. Ben pushed his back against the counter and glanced upstairs, where Danny stood in his own bedroom door in a similarly intimidating position. “Sorry,” Ben mumbled. “Accident.”

Danny’s arms uncrossed as his hands found their ways to his hips and he repeated back, “Accident?” Ben looked up at him, attempting to look contrite, and watched his big brother hesitate uncharacteristically. Dan glanced at Oliver’s equally rigid figure, then gave Ben a look that made the younger man blush and look down. “No more accidents, please,” he said in a deceptively casual voice before turning around and shutting his bedroom door behind him.

Benjamin caught himself halfway through a sigh of relief before he remembered another pair of eyes were still watching him. “Sorry, Ollie,” he said sheepishly.

“I’m going to show you what sorry looks like if you keep it up” Oliver said sternly, keeping his gaze leveled at his boyfriend. When it became apparent that he was going to have to fix his meal with an audience, Ben turned slowly and opened the next cabinet door, very gently, finding the cereal and continuing his task. He was embarrassed to be overseen but grateful to have his boyfriend. On a good day with just Danny, Ben would be parked in a corner right now. On a bad day…

Ben squirmed a little at the thought, trying to pass it off as getting comfortable as he sat at the kitchen table. He relaxed a bit as he heard Oliver’s retreating footsteps, and he knew he was finally alone.

~ ~ ~

It could have ended there, but of course it didn’t. They had a lazy day, a nice dinner, and part of a fun round of mini-golf. Ben’s bad mood began to creep back in the further along the course they got, and as he began to lose. He made comments that were less funny and more snide, and his body language was aggressive as he took his shots across green felt fields full of miniature windmills and into the mouths of plaster alligators. He and Oliver were ahead of Emma and Danny, and the mood of the group was definitely taking a hit. Things came to a head at hole 17. They had caught up to the family ahead of them, and in his impatience, Ben had shot while one of their members was cutting across the green to catch up with her parents. His ball ricocheted off her foot, a product of bad timing that should have resulted in an agreeable do-over. Instead, Ben raised his small golf club up and rammed it back into the ground, hard, as he swore.

Oliver’s mouth dropped open and his eyebrows shot up; he quickly spun toward the other group and was grateful that the girl had simply apologized when the ball hit her foot and kept walking. The rest of them either didn’t hear or were politely ignoring the outburst. When he turned back around, it was to see Danny walking forward, eyes laser focused on his little brother. Though for a second he was sure that Dan was going to start wailing on Ben right there, Oliver was grateful things did not play out that way. He was already embarrassed enough at his boyfriend’s tantrum.

“Wait, Danny!” came Ben’s panicked voice. He was clearly worried about the same thing. Dan took his brother’s club and handed it and his own to Oliver without looking over. His attention was still completely on Ben, which was not something most people ever wanted to happen. He still didn’t speak as he grabbed the younger man’s right bicep with his own left hand and practically marched the boy off the course and toward the parking lot. Oliver shook his head and sighed, bending down to retrieve Ben’s ball. He and Emma exchanged awkward glances. She looked worried, and he guessed she was right to do so. All evidence suggested that Dan was going to tear Ben a new one as soon as they got home, and Oliver couldn’t blame him. He sighed again as he and Emma walked toward the hut to return their equipment. He should have just spanked his boyfriend at the airport.

~ ~ ~

The ride home was painfully silent. Emma and Oliver had approached the car slowly; they could see the silhouette of Dan in the front seat turned around, talking to the shadowy figure that was Ben, slumped in the back seat with his arms crossed, his entire body pushed back against the door. Suddenly shape one turned back around and the car came to life. Emma and Oliver hurried the last few steps, since it appeared the lecture was over, and loaded into the car. Oliver was a little worried about Ben, but his worry turned quickly back into aggravation. He thought the younger man might need some comfort or reassurance, but no, Benjamin’s face was once again defiant and pouty, and he refused to look anywhere besides out the window. Fine, he thought, be that way and see if I don’t spank you again before bed tonight.

Ben barely waited until the car was stopped before jumping out, not quite slamming his door and snatching the hidden key on the front porch and storming into the house, all while the three in the car watched. Emma made a small worried sound, and Danny moved his review mirror to look at Oliver as he spoke. “Are you going to sort him out?” he said bluntly.

Oliver stammered at first. The question caught him off-guard, but Dan watched the confusion turn to resolution as he answered. “I… well. Yeah, I think I will.” And then he unbuckled his seatbelt, got out the car and walked purposefully into the house.

Danny reached over and put a hand on Emma’s thigh and squeezed gently. “You okay?” he asked. She put her hand over his and returned the squeeze as she said with a small shrug and uncharacteristic nonchalance, “It’s about time.” Danny smiled, and they headed into the house.

~ ~ ~

Oliver wasted no time once he had made a decision. Whatever patience he’d possessed was long gone, and he felt empowered by Danny to do what he should have done days ago. He found Ben in the small bathroom attached to their room, drying his freshly washed face over the sink, clad only in dark red boxer-briefs as he prepared for bed. When he brought the towel down, he was startled to make eye contact in the mirror with Oliver, who had moved into the room quietly and now stood behind his boyfriend with his arms crossed. Ben’s mouth dropped open and he watched in horror as Oliver’s arms unfolded and he reached over, taking Ben’s bicep and pulling him toward the bed.

“You guys can’t just haul me around whenever you feel like it!” Ben yelled, resisting, but despite their relatively similar body types, his efforts were no use on the short walk. In no time, Oliver was perched on the edge of the bed, one foot propped on the wooden frame that held the mattress, elevating the knee over which he deposited his bratty boyfriend. Ben struggled the entire time, which was new for Oliver but didn’t slow him down. He had spanked his boyfriend a few times now, but only playfully or for something Ben himself felt guilty over. Now he was beginning to see that his boyfriend needed this physical reassurance even when the big stuff was taken care of. Well, thought Oliver as he ran an appreciative hand across the fabric of Benjamin’s underwear, I think I am up to the task.

He lifted his hand and began the spanking, bringing it down forcibly enough to rocket Ben’s body forward, even as he redoubled his efforts to rise. “Let me up!” he screeched.

“This is happening whether you make a big production of it or not, little boy. But Danny and Emma are plenty aware of your situation without the yelling.”

His words had the desired effect. He glanced down to see a tremendous blush rising on Ben’s face, and he was much less vocal as swats continued to reign down on his still wiggly behind. Oliver wasn’t holding back, perturbed as he was by the constantly ignored warnings and continued naughty behavior from his boyfriend since the beginning of their trip. Several minutes passed with just the steady sound of one young man’s hand landing rhythmically on the other’s bottom, accompanied by the occasional grunts and shifting of blankets as Ben continued to struggle quietly.

Almost to the moment, it occurred to Oliver that his arm was wearing out much earlier than he wanted, and there was a knock at the door. Two sharp raps echoed and both boys paused, Ben craning his neck awkwardly to look, his eyes wide. Oliver said “come in,” knowing it could only be one of two people. Ben groaned; it was Danny, carrying his hairbrush and handing it wordlessly to Oliver, who nodded his thanks.

Ben was too busy burying his face in his arms to watch Danny leave. Oliver rested his newly acquired implement on the red boxer briefs; the thin fabric did little to prevent the heat emanating from his boyfriend’s backside. He began to speak.

“It must be very embarrassing to have your brother see you getting your backside spanked by your boyfriend.” The remark caused a low moan from Ben, who was suddenly feeling very small. “Today, Benjamin, I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed by your behavior at mini-golf. I was embarrassed by your poor attitude on the way home. Especially because I know, and Danny and Emma know, what a charming and fun person you usually are.”

Oliver could feel Ben’s body tensing, and suspected that his boyfriend’s resistance wasn’t totally out of his system. Not wanting to give him a chance to get worked up again, Oliver picked up the brush, then hooked his thumbs under the elastic of Ben’s underwear and pulled them down. Ben did start to wiggle immediately, accompanied by an indignant “Oliver!”

Oliver began spanking again, and the sound of the wooden hairbrush on bare skin echoed in the room. “I think that’s enough talking, little boy. You know how unacceptable this attitude of yours has been and the behavior that came with it. Now we are at the consequences stage, and you have earned yourself a nice long spanking, so that’s what you’re going to get.”

“Ollieee…” came a pitiful response, and Oliver felt confident that the wiggles and kicks were almost involuntary now. He was going to have to invest in a hairbrush soon.

“You don’t need a hairbrush! I’ll be good!” said Ben. Oops, thought Oliver. Didn’t mean to say that out loud. He began to wrap up the spanking, concentrating on Ben’s sit-spots, making sure his entire bottom was a uniform shade of red, not much different than the underwear dangling around Ben’s knees. He slowed, then stopped, setting the hairbrush down and running his hand up and down his boyfriend’s back and bottom, inspecting and comforting at the same time. Eventually he pulled the young man up, reassuring him with forehead kisses and gentle touches, then guiding him to bed.

As he climbed into bed himself, Oliver felt strangely satisfied. He felt very confident that the next two days would be pleasant, and he liked knowing that he had take care of his partner. He pulled Ben close, smiling as they both drifted off to sleep.

~ ~ ~

The trip did finish well. Despite some initial protesting, Ben had returned his brother’s hairbrush with an apology for his behavior. He got off with barely any lecturing, for which he was grateful. He had always recognized his brother’s quiet alpha status, his ability to find what motivated people and use it to bring out their best. He was starting to see, too, that Danny had no stake in who handled the consequences or encouragements he thought necessary, at least for the people for whom he felt responsible. He just wanted them taken care of.

On the return flight, Oliver smiled and Benjamin scowled as they made their way through security. The oak hairbrush was tucked innocently into a side pocket of Oliver’s carry-on backpack, an unexpected souvenir. They went through without incident, and were soon homeward bound.

~ ~ ~

Back at home, Danny was straightening their room as Emma stripped the bed in the guest room. She was just tugging the fitted sheet off the far corner of the bed when she heard a call from upstairs.

“Emma, have you seen my hairbrush?”

That’s a Good Mutual Friend

Standard

David was not a confrontational man. He wasn’t prone to raising his voice. He never interrupted others, even when they insisted on yelling. He didn’t need to. When David had something he needed to say, people listened. Sometimes, it took a look. Sometimes, a gentle clearing of his throat. Occasionally, a loud “Excuse me.” People listened, of course, excluding Emily Anne.

She had waltzed into his life like a gentle tornado several months ago, a date set up by a mutual friend. He found her charming and charismatic, endearing and endlessly frustrating at the same time. And though he knew there was really no such thing as a gentle tornado, he found himself falling for her just the same.

Emily didn’t need to fight to make herself heard, either. She was fiercly independent, the kind of woman who did not ask permission and did so unapologetically. She found David steady and kind, intriguing and genuine, and above all, trustworthy. She was falling for him as well.

When they had their first fight, David was unprepared. It was over such a small thing… he had come to pick her up for a date, and her front door was unlocked, keys dangling from the beneath the handle. He’d grabbed them and let himself in to her apartment with a knock. “Emily?” he had called. He gave her a reproving look as he handed them over. “Be careful, babe. You left these in the door.” Instead of a thank you, she had rolled her eyes as she took them, dismissing him with a flippant “oh I do that all the time.”

“You leave your keys in the door? All the time?” he had asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Not a big deal. Where are we going for dinner?” she answered, brushing him off.

“I think it is a big deal, young lady,” he said, followed by a pause as he tried to mask his own surprise. Young lady? Where had that come from? He continued though, “This is not the worst neighborhood, but keeping your door locked is an effortless way to keep yourself a little safer.” His second surprise came when she didn’t argue or agree, but huffed at him. She huffed!

For her part, Emily had no idea where the huffing came from either. She just felt herself give in to some small unreasonable voice that rarely escaped. In restropect, she recognized that David was the first man she had ever trusted enough to hear that voice, but in the moment she just felt confused, and instead of backing down, she picked a bigger fight. They both got mad. Dinner was cancelled.

A week later, laying in bed at his apartment and both feeling the warmth from a now empty bottle of wine, Emily let the little voice take over again. Playfully she walked her fingers up his bare chest, smiling mischievously until…

“OW!” David yelled.

Emily snuggled closer to him as he covered his freshly pinched nipple. “Oops,” she said. A minute later, her fingers crept back up to his chest, this time taking only a few tiny steps before they were captured in his much larger hand. Leaning his head down close to hers, he said in a scary and quiet voice, “if you pinch me again, I will spank that little backside of yours until you can’t sit still.”

Butterflies errupted in her stomach and she jerked her hand back, tucking her mischievous fingers between their bodies and hiding her face in the crook of his arm. He smiled, though she couldn’t see it. The wine had made him bold, but he had listened to his instincts, and been prepared to apologize if he had read her wrong. It seemed to have paid off.

Two days later, it was date night again. As David climbed the steps to her apartment door, a bit of metal glinted in the evening sun. His expression darkened. Surely not.

Her keys again hung from the door. David grabbed them and walked inside, calling out. “Emily Anne?” though he expected no answer this time; he could hear a hair dryer running in the bathroom. When he appeared in the mirror behind her, she jumped and shrieked. “David! You scared me!”

“That is not all I plan to do,” he said, reaching over to unplug the hair dryer before taking it from her hands and setting it on the closed toilet lid. “You have some thinking to do.” With that, her grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the bedroom, steering her directly into the one unoccupied corner by the bed. Her outfit for the evening was laid out neatly, but for now she wore only her underwear and a blue tank top. “Why?!” she said as he arranged her hands behind her back, and he was pleased and affirmed in his choice by the faint whine he heard there, what he recognized now as a secret and rare glimpse of her most free self.

“Because a certain little girl left her keys in the door. Again.”

Emily made to turn around, and he knew she was rolling her eyes. A sharp thwack rang out, and Emily practically flung herself back into the corner. He had swatted her! And it hurt! She felt her face begin to burn with embarrassment. This was what she wanted, she thought. She had danced around it from practically the beginning of the relationship; it was perhaps the only thing in her life for which she had never directly asked.

David stepped back and watched the handprint bloom on the undercurve of her left cheek, faint fingerprints reaching out from beneath her peach colored underwear. If David had not been David, she would have eventually been forced to have one of those direct and difficult conversations. But perhaps their mutual friend knew more than they gave her credit for, because David suspected exactly what she wanted, and now he felt more confident than ever.

When he was sure that his girlfriend would stay put, at least for the time being, he walked back to the restroom and grabbed the sturdy wooden hairbrush she’d been using when he arrived. He returned quickly, set the hairbrush on the bed and moved her outfit to her dresser. Then he made himself comfortable, sitting on the bed’s edge and watching Emily shift her weight from foot to foot for a moment before he began to speak. “Stop fidgeting,” he began sternly. “You have landed yourself in trouble, and from now on, that is going to include corner time, so I suggest you get used to this position.” She groaned and leaned her head forward, letting it softly thunk into the joint of the walls.

“And when you are finished with your time-out, I am going to put you across my lap and spank your bare bottom.”

“David!!!” she wailed, having been unprepared to actually hear those words, and her hands jumped to cover her backside. He had expected something like this, and easily took the two steps from the bed to her corner and planted a matching swat on her right cheek, more pink fingerprints blooming. He smirked to himself as she went rigidly back into position. She wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons. He was thoroughly enjoying this.

He settled himself back on the bed and began to scold her. “I believe I was very clear about my feelings on you leaving your door unlocked, much less having your keys left there for the taking. And I understand that accidents happen, and we all have our moments. But you did not take me seriously the first time I showed concern, so you are going to take me seriously now.” She had begun to shift again as he lectured, and this time he let her. Her time in the corner was going to be over soon. He let her stand for several minutes in silence for good measure, though.

When he said “come here,” she jumped and pushed herself farther into the corner. He kept quiet, and was proud to see her ease herself out a moment later and shuffle to his side. She looked down at him pitifully, her mouth curved in a pout. “Do we have to?” she said softly.

“No,” he replied thoughtfully, taking her hands in his and squeezing them reassuringly, “but we’re going to.” And he pulled her gently to his side and then across his lap. She settled herself, would have even called it comfortable if she hadn’t been so nervous. David didn’t make her wait long. He pulled her in close with his left arm and said, “I think this is long overdue, little love. When I’m finished, you are going to have a very sore bottom, and a new motivation for keeping track of your keys. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she said into her arms, and though it was muffled, he felt a second surge of pride. Not wanting to make her wait any longer, her raised his right hand and began to spank her. She remained still as his hand bounced on her quickly warming backside, absorbing each swat stoically. He smiled as he spanked her, unsurprised. His instinct to grab the hairbrush had been right; she had never been entry-level at anything, and spanking was no exception for his exceptional girl. He paused and hooked his fingers under the elastic of her underwear, ready with his free hand when she did react with a squeak and a frantic attempt to stop him. He paused, his left hand around her wrist as she clutched the thin fabric with her right hand. “What kind of spanking did I say this would be?”

She jerked her hand free and pulled it back under her, attempting to get out of the question by showing compliance, but he had no plans to let her get away with it. “Emily Anne,” he said sternly, and he could feel her body tense in resistance. Alright, he thought, and he resumed spanking her, underwear still up but his hand now much further down, softer swats because that’s all it took when one spanked a pair of naughty thighs. Emily didn’t think they felt softer at all, and now her feet did kick and she finally yelled “bare.”

He stopped, resting his hand on her bottom again, and asking in the silence, “how?”

She screwed up her face and her courage and said again, quickly but clearly, “on my bare bottom.”

“Good girl,” he said, and then she felt the cool air hit her hot bottom and she attempted to bury her face under the bedspread. David resumed spanking her, a little surprised to see that she still remained fairly still. That wouldn’t last long, he thought, glancing at the hairbrush. A moment later, he paused to grab it, gripping her tighter before resting the smooth wood on her bottom to prepare her. Again her muscles constricted, this time in anticipation, and he proved to be right about her stoicism as he brought it crashing down.

“David! Please!” she yelled, keeping her hands away but moving her backside and legs this way and that in a vain attempt to escape the dreadful sting of the wood on her bottom. “I won’t do it again!”

“Oh, you might do it again. And we will deal with that if and when the time comes,” David said as he continued his steady assault on her backside. “What you will not do is ignore me when I express concern for you, not without facing consequences. Also,” he said, as if it were an afterthought, “no more pinching.”

“Okay! Yes sir. Yes sir. Okay!” she replied. He swatted her a few more times, then set the brush aside and asked, “Are you going to behave yourself for the rest of the evening?”

She nodded meekly, and he swatted her thighs. “Ouch! Yes sir!”

“Good,” he said smiling. He pulled her underwear up and allowed her to stand; she immediately began rubbing her bottom, her bottom lip trapped by her teeth as she hopped up and down. “That really hurt!” she said accusingly, but her expression was more pitiful than challenging. He smiled and opened his arms, whispering gently into her ear a moment later, “Spankings are supposed to hurt. The next one will hurt, too. And the one after that.”

And though she knew it was supposed to be a threat, she smiled into his chest, feeling content and happy, and very very sore.