“Oh, my head!” I moan as the beams of sun poke my eyes. Even with my eyes closed the world seems to be a blaze of light. Of that awful bright light. Why am I being punished? Oh, yea, last night and the bonfire. A queasiness down below told me the bathroom was an immediate need.
I throw back the sheet covering me and stumble into the hall towards the bathroom. The door’s open, good! A few more steps and I’m praying at the porcelain god. I hate dry heaves. There wasn’t really anything left to come up, but stomach didn’t care.
“Bets, you ok?” I heard from behind me.
I spit out as much of the disgusting taste before collapsing against the wall. Jamie, is standing over me, already dressed. How can she look so…so… fine? Didn’t she drink more than me last night?
“Here, sip on this and you’ll feel better in no time,” she tells me as she hands over a bottle of lemon-lime Gatorade. I pop it open and it tastes wonderful. The nausea had covered up my cottonmouth. I took another big gulp trying to get ride of the awful feeling.
“Slow or you’ll just puke it back up,” She warned.
“Thanx,” I say before laying an arm on the edge of a tub and resting my head on it. The room was moving a little too much at the moment for me to do much more.
“Oh, and Mom called. They are coming home today and should be here by 6. Sheriff Williams called them.” Jaime added before leaving me to rest.
Sheriff Williams meant goodbye bikini. There was no way I was wearing a swimsuit for at least a week, even if Mom would let me go anywhere. Maybe a little nap and this will all be a bad dream. Yea, just a bad dream.
—-
My second awakening was much better than the first. I could still feel the bass pounding out its rhythm in my head, but 100% less nausea made up for it. Just about anything is better than puking.
I sat up in bed and swung by legs over the edge to find my room still filled with that awful light. The bane of all hangovers. The blurriness though was not due to the hangover. I snatched up my glasses from the night stand. Today is not a contact day. Slipping the glasses on, I realize the room is even blurrier. I then realize I still have my disposable contacts in. A couple stumbles to the dresser, eye drops and my contacts are safely deposited in the trash. My glasses now return the world to high definition.
I scoop up the crumbled bathrobe laying behind my door and make my way downstairs. Jordan is a sleep on couch while Jaime is cleaning the kitchen.
“Good morning,” I mumble on my way to the coffee pot.
“Morning? 3 o’clock. Mom and Dad will be home in a couple of hours,” Jaime said without looking up from the pan she was scrubbing.
“Aren’t they supposed to be coming back tomorrow?”
“Sheriff Williams called Dad this morning, so they are coming home today!” Jamie s
“Fuck.” I sighed. “Let me get some coffee and I’ll get Jordan and Breanne up.” I started a fresh pot. I needed the caffeine and my sisters probably needed it also. Food would also be important. I doubted I would really want to eat dinner, even if we were allowed. I opened the fridge to find nothing interesting. Cereal would do. I probably ate too much last night anyways. I definitely drank too much and even light beer has way too many calories.
“Once you get finished, go wake up Jordan and Breanne and have them clean the rest of the house. You get the front yard mowed and I’ll come out to help with the garden when I’m done here,” Jaime commanded.
“Hopefully it buys us a little good will,” I said, not really believing a word of it. Goodwill goes a long way with our parents for little things, but not something like this. Thought maybe it’ll make Mom feel guilty after a week or so of our grounding and let us play while Dad is at work.
I woke Jordan from her slumber, offering a cup of coffee and our impending doom. She had half the mug gone before caffeine started turning the wheels in her head at full speed. Well full speed for her is like half speed for the rest of us. The ditzy blonde still got that party plus sheriff plus dad equaled doom. I was tempted to spell it out like that when I saw the light blub go on in her head.
I instructed Jordan to clean the living room, family room and dinning room while I went to find Breanne. Luckily she was still firmly planted in bed. Her golden locks seem to form a halo around her head. She looked so angelic. So peaceful. So innocent. She didn’t have the Jordan’s beauty, my brains or Jamie’s dynamic personality, but she did have a way of manipulating just about everyone. I think it is really her baby face, which was exaggerated when she dyed her hair the summer before she started high school. I had to vouch for her being an actual freshman to our homeroom teacher on the first day because he thought she was a kid. I would hate everyone thinking I was 13, but she likes it.
She actually likes it so much, she decorated her bedroom like a Barbie palace. I’m not talking the kiddie version where there are images of Barbie everywhere. No, her room is pink with shades of red, white and a few lavenders. It looks like a giant version of the Barbie’s bedroom from the toy house. Sickening, but I guess one of us four had to be a girly girl.
“Come on, you gotta get up,” I poked her a few times.
“I don’t wanna,” she mumbled before trying to hit me with pillow. Luckily the coffee cup was in my hand away from the bed, otherwise she may have gotten a hot surprise.
“I don’t care, and I doubt Mom and Dad will care when they get home in an hour.” Yes, we probably had at least 2 hours, but hyperbolas work well in motivating Breanne.
“So..” she mumbled.
“Remember what happened last night?”
A grumbled indicated she knew want I meant. I sat the coffee on her nightstand. “Here’s some coffee. You have the bathrooms and upstairs to clean before they get home.”
“Yes MOM!” she said sardonically. A tone I never heard her actually say to mom, just Jamie and I. Whatever, I had to get changed and get mowing asap. Also I can’t forget the allergy medicine. I may like hunting, fishing and all the other outdoors stuff, but my allergies prefer a nice climate controlled environment.
It was actually a really nice day. A few light, fluffy clouds dotted the sky. Cirrus clouds if I remember earth science class correctly. At least I’d improve my tan some while I mowed. I may be a tomboy, but I still know guys appreciate a good tan. A camisole and cutoffs was as much skin I risked showing because we had gotten no word from Mom or Dad about their ETA. Dad doesn’t really like his girls in bikinis, and I don’t care to poke an angry bear.
The mowing took forever and a day. Even the highest gear wasn’t fast enough. Though I don’t know if I wanted time to go any faster. Around and around I rode, thinking up every horrible punishment known to man. Well, not known to man, but rather, every horrible punishment two loving, caring parents may impart upon their adult daughters. A couple made me shutter so much I had to back up and re-mow a few spots.
I was just starting the trim work when Jamie lead Jordan and Breanne out to the garden. It needed a quick weeding and the fresh veggies needed to be picked; both tasks Mom normally performed. Actually, everything we did in the last couple of hours were tasks Mom normally did around the house. Mom or us, but not Dad. We probably should have targeted Dad’s tasks instead of Mom’s. It was too late now.
Mom and Dad pulled the pickup in as I was coming back from putting away the lawn mower. Time was up. A few quick loads of stuff was all that stood between us and our reckoning. I glanced over at the garden to see Jamie prodding our younger siblings toward the truck. Don’t they realize that delaying in the garden would achieve nothing.
“That’s the last load. Just go wait for your father in the living room.” Mom told Jordan and I as she rounded the edge of the porch. Jordan and I hung our heads low as we walked to the living room. Jaime and Breanne were already there, waiting nervously. Jaime seemed contend on accepting her fate, while Breanne was mumbling something to herself. No doubt she was trying to devise an exit strategy. I bet it would involve using Jamie and I as scape goats.
I played with my fingernails as the tension built. The logic side was trying to tell the emotional side exactly want was going to happened and that I would survive it, but emotions just don’t listen. They love to go to extremes. Every horrible thing I thought up while mowing was coming back with a vengeance. We would be spanked, belted, switched, grounded and have our mouth’s washed out with soap. Jamie and I would get it doubly bad because we supplied the alcohol, or at least allowed them to consume it. It was really more Jamie and my faults.
“A party!” Dad stated. He never yelled when he was mad, just forcefully stated. I think he admired Teddy Roosevelt’s “Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick” policy. Though he never carried a big stick, just the occasional small ones. “With the Cops being called?”
“Daddy, it was all a misunderstanding,” Jordan cried.
“I don’t want to hear. Each of you go cut a switch then I better see four very contrite girls lined up on the porch!” Dad stated, shaking his head in disappointment. I could feel the pain he felt in my chest. There was nothing worst than disappointing Dad. I mean he protected and gave us girls so much, and never asked for much in return. Unlike Mom, he didn’t even care if we where perfect ladies or not. He just wanted us to try our best, respect others, and honor and cherish family, God and country.
The decree though had been made and there was no backing out of it. We would be Ridding the 4×4 as we jokingly called it when all four of us sisters got spanked together. We now just had to provide the four switches and four bare bottoms, which multiplied together was 16 times the punishment.
Walking outside I noticed the trees were full of singing birds. They were singing our funeral song. I started putting words to their melodies as Jamie lead the way to the stand of trees behind the barn.
“There goes four naughty girls
Off to fetch a switch
Each one sorry for their deeds
but not as sorry as they’ll be!”
Did you know in prisons, the Green Mile, that stretch from a death row inmate’s cell to the execution chamber is often only 50 feet. The courts probably deem the 100 yards we have to go to cut a switch cruel and unusual punishment.
The grove a trees behind the barn isn’t very big, but dense enough that you can’t easily see through it. Firewood is stacked between two of the larger trees while young saplings dotting the underbrush. These young saplings are our target. A branch as thick as one’s thumb and as long as one’s arm is the requirement.
We each choose an appropriate branch, or entire new sapling in Breanne’s case, and used the Swiss army knife to cut it off and clean the excess sprouts. Haste was important, because Dad only provided us so much time to complete the chore, thought he never set an exact number. Just ‘be quick about it.’ He reinforced the message to Jamie and I the summer after I graduated high school when got to go over his knee before we got the switch. Not something I ever planned on repeating.
Four sisters, heads hung low, shuffled on back to the house, a short, flexible branch in each’s hands. Four former saplings, a sign of vitality and growth, were presented to their father to help them grow out of their youthful mischief. Four naughty girls lined up, waiting for instructions. It seems more like an except from a classic novel than our reality.
“Lower then loop your panties around the banister,” Dad instructed. I hooked my thumbs into my waistband then knelt down as I lowered them to my ankles. I stepped out of the right leg hole. Looping your panties meant looping your panties around one of the porch’s railing supports the stepping back into them, effectively locking your feet together and close to the railing. It prevented us from kicking, and vulgar displays towards Dad, though oddly still left our front visible to anyone in the backyard. I looped my panties around a banister then stepped back into them and stood up, holding the railing as I went up for support. It was an awkward movement that I had way too much practice at.
Dad always started with the youngest first, so I had two sisters to wait through before I got any attention. Waiting to be spanked is always the worst. Its especially when you 22, standing half naked on your porch waiting to be switched.
Breanne was crying before the first stroke landed. She always cried before being spanked. Maybe she thought it would cause Mom or Dad to have pity on her. I’m sure it didn’t work with Mom, but not so sure about Dad. When I saw Mom spank her a few months ago, I swear it was longer and harder than when Mom spanked the rest of us. Well, not me, but Jamie and Jordan. I couldn’t tell with Dad, since he only spanked when more than one of us was up for it and I was always waiting for my turn next to Breanne.
Dad finished the first set with Breanne and my own spanking came closer. One more bottom before mine would be graced with that evil switch. It would be all tenderized by the time it got to me, encouraging it to provide more sting.
I bit my lower lip as the flurry of strokes caused Jordan to cry out. Almost my turn. Almost my cries. Almost.
Two taps to my back prompted me to bend forward. I reached low, taking a hold of the uprights just above my panties. I had two choices of views; the flowerbed filled with wild rose bushes or between my legs. I choose neither, screwing my eyes shut instead.
The first swipe didn’t sting much. More than I had remembered, but not too much. The next burst of swipes though stung exponentially more with each swipe. “Owee owee owwee!” I cried as the sting hit a crescendo with last swat. I blinked back the initial onslaught of tears while wiggling to and fro, trying to dissipate the sting. Why couldn’t the wind blow a little bit? A cool breeze would help the sting some.
Jamie gave more of a low moan with her first dose. It took her more than just to get to the crying stage, but she would reach it.
Dad returned to Breanne and lectured her some. My attention was firmly focused on the my bottom until her cries for forgiveness perched the evening air as Dad broke that first switch across her bottom. It was standard Dad spanking protocol. A little bit for each naughty daughter, then a whole bunch for one, then again a little for each before a whole bunch for the next daughter. Getting spanked with a switch is one thing. One horrible, stingy punishment, but this roller coaster ride of sting is plain torture. Every new round would send the sting to all new highs.
With my face down and bottom up, the only thing I could do was to focus on my breathing. Slow, steady breaths through my mouth helps distract during these little interludes. The tears had stopped and the sting had just started to level off when the second round arrived.
Jordan cried out immediately. There is a point during every spanking where you give up your dignity and just accept it. Jordan had made the leap and there was no going back for her.
WHACK! “Ouch!” The first stroke took me by surprise. A narrow ban of pain striping by backside. I clenched my jaw as the following set of strokes built upon the first set. White knuckles held me firmly on the top of the rail, even when I tried to kick my legs about. The kicking was in vain because a pair of cotton panties does not tear easily. I’d tried though many times on this porch. Many more than I care to remember.
Dad moved onto Jamie as fast as he’d moved onto me, but I didn’t even notice. The million bee stings had not stopped. Shaking and wiggling wouldn’t scare them away. Logically I knew time was the only real cure the sting, but come on, who is logical in my situation.
I could hear Breanne let out her typical high pitch wails when Dad started in on her and then the progressive stronger and stronger cries coming from Jordan. I stole a glance at her to gently shaking her head as the tears flooded from her squished eyes. The hair clip popped, closing a blonde curtain around her face. I’d look like that in a moment, though brown hair instead of blonde.
Dad granted my projection sooner than I’d have wished. The first few strokes with the fresh switch burned like hell. I swear it was cutting into my cheeks with every stroke. Deeper and deeper until it suddenly stopped. I tried to control my breath a little before it returned. “I can do this, I can do this,” I kept mouthing. I can be brave and take my punishment like a big girl without crying like a baby. I’d made it this far, I could do all the way.
WAHCK! WHACK! WHACK! The switch had returned and returned with vengeance. “No more! Sniff Please! I’ll be good! SNIFF I promise! Pleasse! Please! Please!” I cried, praying the switch would break quickly, but it never did. I finally gave up all resolve and just hollered. I hollered in pain. I hollered my sorrow. I hollered anything and everything I thought would make it stop. I didn’t want to be punished anymore. It wasn’t worth it. There was no party worth this. I’d never do it again. NEVER EVER! This was…was…was what I deserved.
The switch had covered from the top of my cheeks to midway down my thighs and every part in between when it finally broke in two. Two parts that Dad tossed on my bunched shorts and panties. Two pieces I’d get to look at until Dad finished, had I dare open my eyes.
I just sobbed continuously until Dad had finished with all of us. Even his final set of strokes with Jamie’s switch didn’t change my state much. Maybe an octave higher in my cries, but I had nothing left. No resistance, no pride, no naughtiness, just contrition.
“Well, I think you’ve learned a lesson today. You girls can go stand against the wall for a while and think about why you needed to learn a lesson,” Dad grumbled then I heard the screen door open and he was gone.
Dad had always let us do this part on our own. His only expectation were the naughty girls facing the side of the house when he came out later. Nothing else mattered. Not how fast we got up, nor our state of dress. Those were good things because I didn’t want to move for few minutes and those damn panties were not returning anywhere close to their correct position anytime soon.
One foot out of my panties and I was released from my induced prison. The three steps to the side of the house would hurt, but I could do it. And once I got there, I could sneak a rub or two. Mom and Dad wouldn’t see. I hoisted myself up, before dragging my shorts and panties still hooked around my left ankle. Tiny steps and I was to the safety of the wall.
I don’t quite understand why some girls complain so much about corner-time. I find a peaceful reprieve from the whole hustle and bustle of a normal day. I time I can just finally relax. Because right now everything was gone. All the stress, the tension, the guilt. It was all gone. Washed away with the tears. And not regular tears, but tears of a spanking. The kind unlike any other kind. The kind that bring sorrow, forgiveness, and lasting lessons.
“You girls ok?” Dad asked, coming back outside. I couldn’t tell you how long he had been inside, but it didn’t matter.
“Yes,” we mumbled, turning slightly to look over our left shoulders. It must be a sight to see four half naked women with red swollen butts looking over their back over their shoulder.
“I spoke Sheriff Williams and he said no charges are going to be filed against any of you kids,” Dad stated. Good thing, because I am sure none of us wanted to spend tomorrow morning sitting on that wooden bench outside of his chambers.
“I’m sorrryy dadddy,” I cried, hugging him along with my sisters.
“I know girls, I know. But please, avoid mischief with the law. If you want to get in trouble, you know many perfectly legal ways.”
In Hushed Voices 