Do I need to pull this car over?

“Do I need to pull this car over?” A simple phrase that strikes fear in to kids everywhere. Well maybe not everywhere with all this political correctness, but it always struck fear into my sister and I. It was the ultimate threat during any long road trip. They never followed through on the threat, mainly because Sabrina nor I ever dared to test them.

This time was no difference. In two hours we’d be back at college, getting ready for the spring semester, so making Mom mad now would probably result in us skipping our normal trip to Sam’s to stock up on food and stuff. A girl’s got to eat, occasionally, and if the rents pay for it, the more money I have for fun. I decided just to crank up the volume on the movie to drown out that annoying game.

The backseat armistice didn’t make it a full hour. My movie ended so I shifted over to reading some for my lit class. Might as well try to get ahead, since there isn’t much to see outside. Just trees and the occasional farm as we rolled down the state highway.

“Can’t you play some other game?” I snipped at Sabrina after that repetitive music disrupted my reading for the 50th time.

“I told you earlier I have it all the way down.”

“Then play something else,” I shot back.

“Why should I?” Sabrina smirked. I think I saw her even turn the volume up on her iPad. It sure

“Oh stop being such as b…Witch,” I corrected myself just in time.

“Girls, enough now!” Mom chastised from the front seat.

Sabrina pursed her lips and glared at me. I silently mouthed back “bitch”. She mouthed “baby” I think.

I could feel my face getting a little flush as my temper quickly rose. I hated being called the baby, and Sabrina damn well knew it. Growing up as the youngest I was always referred to as the baby of the family and I hated it. I am almost 21 years old, not some fucking infant! My temper overwhelmed all sense of reason and I shoved the backpacks sitting between us at Sabrina.

“Owe, quit!” Sabrina cried out when the books in her backpack struck her funny bone. I gave her a fake smile, mocking her discomfort, which just got the backpacks shoved back into my lap.

“Hey!” I snapped as my open backpack ricochet off my leg and spilled across the floor.

“That is enough of this!” Mom barked from her driver’s seat. The next thing I realize is the sudden deceleration of the Suburban as mom hit the brakes. She pulled the car off the side of the road at the grass entrance to one of the fields on our right.

Sabrina and I looked at each other with equal parts fear and anger as Mom got out. What the hell had we gotten ourselves into?

Mom opened the rear hatch and started shuffling through the duffel bags. I tried to sneak a peak of what she was searching for but the third row of seats blocked my view. I wouldn’t have to wait long, because she closed the hatch and walked around towards my door.

“Both of you, get out here NOW!” Mom barked after opening my door.

Sabrina and I couldn’t help but plead in unison, “Moomm.”

Mom just shot us that ‘don’t you dare tempt me’ look. With a huff, I undid my seat belt and slid out onto the grass. Sabrina followed me once she climbed over the pile so stuff that had been separating us. Mom stood there with her hands on her hips glaring at us until Sabrina stood beside me.

“I’ve had enough of this bickering that has been going on between you two since Christmas break started. I don’t know what has gotten in to you to but I’m going to end it right down.” Sabrina and I both knew how she intended to end our bickering, but mom didn’t like to leave any doubt in her lectures. “With two whooped butts.”

“Com’on mom,” I pleaded while giving her the best puppy dog eyes I could muster.

“You don’t have to do this we’re sorry,” Sabrina pleaded.

“Yea, really sorry.” A car flew by, reminding us how exposed we were on the side of the road.

“You will be,” Mom chided. How cliche, though true. “Now drop those jeans and put your hands on the running board.”

“What here?” I asked like I was surprised. Of course it was going to occur here, Mom never waited once she announced a whooping.

“Please mom!” Sabrina pleaded.

“Please,” I added for good measure. It just got another glare from Mom saying we’d pushed her way too far already.

I started fumbling with the top button on my jeans, wasting as much time as possible in the vain hope Mom would give in and let us get back in the truck.

All hope of a reprieve was quashed when Mom said, “fine, you can take your jeans all the way off.” This was extra bad. I stopped working at the top once the zipper was down and instead focused on taking off my sneakers. I knelt down, instead of bending over, and pulled one foot out then the other, stepping on the top of my shoes to prevent my socks from getting dirty. I glanced to my left to see Sabrina with her shoes already off and standing back up to shimmy off her jeans. I followed suit, wiggling my hips until my jeans fell to my ankles.

“Hmmm,” Mom cleared her throat. “Those things you call panties can go too.”

I hooked my fingers into the waist strip of my thong and slide it down to join my jeans before stepping out of both articles. On a dare, Sabrina and I only packed g-strings and thongs to bring home for winter break. Mom was very old fashion in the panty department and prohibited us from wearing anything skimpier than a simple bikini style. Wearing only outlawed underthings for three weeks was had been a rush.

I folded semi folded my pants before handing them to Mom. She just tossed both sets into the back seat then closed the back door. Sabrina and I shuffled our shoes over until we were facing the side of the SUV then bent forward until we held onto the chrome tube that acted like a running board. A light breeze swept across the field to tickle our intimates, reminding us of our exposed position. I shivered, sending my dark locks spewing over my head.

“You are old enough to know better than bicker like little kids!” Mom chided from behind us.

“Yes ma’am,” Sabrina and I said.

Mom whipped the hairbrush down onto Sabrina’s backside a couple of times before reaching over my sister and engaging me.

“Owe owe owe,” I cried out when the hairbrush bite into my flesh. Sabrina soon enough echoed my cries with her own when a second volley took her. Back and forth Mom would spank Sabrina then me 3 or 4 times, always making sure we both got the same punishment for the joint crime. Mom was funny about us getting into trouble together and had always spanked us side by side when we did.

“Oach I’m sorry,” I cried as the sting really started to take hold. I danced from foot to foot during my slight reprieve. The fussing just earned me the next volley at the tops of my thighs. “AAAAAHHHHEEEEEE,” I yelped at the fresh sting.

“EEEEIIIIEEEEEE” Sabrina echoed as Mom repeated for her.

I clenched my teeth in preparation for the next onslaught, and Mom didn’t let me down, peppering my sit-spots. I didn’t cry out, just forced more tears until my vision has completely blurred over. Mom scolded us on our childish behavior then started spanking away again.

I’m not sure how long we were bent over, but Mom made sure your butts were well whooped. When she finally stopped Sabrina and I were a crying mess, promising anything and everything to make it stop.

“Ok, girls, I want you to apologize to each other then you can get into the truck,” Mom told us. I shot upright and instantly grabbed for my bottom. I had to put out the roaring fire and rubbing while dancing in a circle seemed like a good method at the moment. Sabrina joined me dancing across the grass. Our hands only left our bottoms to wipe away the tears.

“Girls!” Mom’s voice rose a little to get our attention.

I was instantly pulled back to reality. My nakedness took precedent over by bottom. I ran to give Sabrina a big hug.

“Sorry, Savannah,” Sabrina apologized.

“Sorry, sis,” I told her. I felt safe and forgiven, yet a little awkward in her arms. The closeness of our embrace guaranteed the touching o four lower halves. Mom broke up our embrace when she joined in.

“You two are forgiven for all that bickering.” Mom cooed. After a moment, she let go of us and took a half step back. “But you are still in trouble for not obeying me, so instead of corner-time, you can spend the rest of the way to your apartment just like that, without any iPad or phone.”

We knew better than to argue. Mom still held that fearsome hairbrush and wasn’t afraid to use it.

“Now into the truck, you can sit ON your jeans.” Mom prompted her command with a firm swat to our tender bottoms.

“Ouch!” I yelped as I scampered after Sabrina. Her normally chocolate bottom had a dared maroon glow to it. I knew mine probably looked the same, and from the fire it was emitting, I knew it wasn’t going to be back to it’s smooth complexion for a couple of days.

The rest of the ride was full of painful bumps. You never realize the importance of a good suspension until sitting on denim with a well spanked bottom. Getting to school wasn’t much better, since Mom wouldn’t let us put our jeans on until we had ‘proper’ panties. Having not packed any, we had to go into our apartment sans jeans. Luckily Mom allowed us to put on our jackets, which covered came down to mid-thigh. Thank goodness for our trip to Chicago last Christmas, otherwise living in Georgia we would never had bought the longer pea coats.

Six thousand five hundred and forty minutes, over the limit

“Yes mom. Ok mom. I am right now,” Heather said into the phone. A few moments later she hung up her phone. “Hey, I got to get home.”

“It’s these soo cute?” Viola asked her friend, holding up a pair of high-cut panties.

“Yea, get them and lets go.” Heather dismissed the question then started chewing on her thumbnail.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Viola could see the anxiety in her friend.

“Nothing, my mom just wants me to come home now.”

“Ok,” Viola said with a shrug. “Let me pay for these. Oh then lets grab some FOYO before we go.”

Heather stopped chewing on her thumb long enough to bark, “No, I said NOW!”

“Fine, you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” Viola was surprised at the outburst. She was sure there was something wrong and she had to find out. Being the driver would provide some nice leverage against Heather.

The girls made their way through the mall crowds and out to Viola’s car without saying another word. A couple quick turns and they were on the interstate heading home. Normally, the highway was the fastest way to get back to the small town where the girls lived, but Viola was more interested in the second exit.

Heather was focusing so intensely on her chewing her thumbnail, she completely missed pulling the car into the rest area.

“Ok girl friend, tell me what’s wrong.” Viola damned as she turned the engine off.

“HEY!” Heather yelled, realizing the car wasn’t moving. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because you’re going to tell me what’s wrong!”

“I told you, it’s nothing! Please lets get going!”

“Bullshit!” Viola could see her friend was anxious and worried. Had it been a real emergency, she knew Heather would have told her everything. “We aren’t going anywhere until you tell me.”

“Grrr… Fine! My mom’s mad at me for running over my cell phone minutes.”

“Cell phone minutes. So what?”

“I was like a thousand minutes over.”

“Wow.” Viola chuckled a little bit. Her mother would be pissed if she had ever went over by that much also. She sensed there was something more though. Viola thought Heather’s nervous demure was disproportionate to the seriousness of the offense. “Ok, I’ll take you home.” Viola returned to the highway and fifteen quiet minutes later pulled into Heather’s driveway. She pitted Heather for having to still live at home, but being basically unemployed, her friend and no other option.

“Thanx,” Heather said, jumping out of the car as soon as it stopped.

Viola watched the blonde get all the way to the back door before reaching into the backseat and picking up the bag of clothes Heather had bought. She got out as the back door closed behind Heather. She took her time walking along the deck that wrapped around back of the house.

Pausing at the door, Viola could hear some yelling and then a little bit of commotion from inside. She tried peaking in the window adjacent to the door, but the curtains where pulled tightly shut. “Well here goes nothing,” she thought before knocking loudly.

She heard some voices inside then she could make out a figure approaching through the frosted glass door panes. She licked her lips as the figure reached the door. Any second she’d find out what was bothering

“Oh, hello Viola.” Heather’s mother said curtly after opening the door.

Viola almost dropped the bag of clothes. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Behind the woman and the kitchen, laid a girl with her panty covered bottom pointing straight at the door.

“Can I help you?” Mary asked her daughter’s friend impatiently. She needed to get dinner started and there still was the business with Heather to finish.

“So that’s why Heather was so mean.” Viola said to herself.

“Hu?” Mary asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing really. Heather just yelled at me after your call. She mentioned you were mad about the cell phone minutes, but nothing about, hmm, that.” Viola nodded to indicate the girl’s current position.

“She did, did she?” Mary pursed her lips while she thought for a moment. Lying to people outside of the house wasn’t strictly prohibited, but Viola was her daughter’s best friend, and it appeared she was mean about it also. Mary took a step backwards and motioning for the girl to enter. “Why don’t you come in and after my discussion with her I’m sure she’ll apologize.”

“MOM!” Heather screamed from the dinning room, “PLEASE NO!”

Mary closed the door behind Viola then lead the way into the dinning room. “Hush! You shouldn’t be mean to your friends just because you are in trouble!” She punctuated her remark with a swift swat to Heather’s bottom. Viola hadn’t even noticed the bamboo spoon Mary had been holding until it crashed into her friend’s backside.

“Ouch!” Heather cried in echo to the muffled clap.

Viola stood in the corner, covering her mouth as she watched her friend get spanked. She had the perfect vantage point to watch the spoon work its way across the panty covered bottom, earning wiggles and the occasional ouch from the owner. Viola wasn’t sure what to make of the scene playing out before her. She could tell Heather was dying of embarrassment, though she didn’t think the spanking looked that bad. It actually looked kind of pleasant, like when her boyfriend slapped her ass during sex. If this was a spanking, she kind of wished she’d been spanked instead of grounded.

“Ok, enough warmup. Lets get these down and start the main event.” Mary set the spoon on the table then reached for her daughter’s waist.

“Please let me keep them up!” Heather reached down her slides to grab her the waistband of her panties.

“Is your bottom not warmed up yet? I can keep going?”

“No, I mean yes, ah! Please let me keep them up while she’s here.”

“She is a woman just like you and I. Now let go or I’ll continue warming up your bottom!” Mary commanded, punctuated with a couple firm slaps of her open hand on her daughter’s bare thighs.

“OCUH!” Heather squealed, letting go of her waistband and attempting to reach her tighs. The table made it an impossible task.

Mary shucked the undergarment down the pink tushy and legs until it was inverted just above the girl’s knees. “Now these can stay here until we are done.”

Viola’s eyes grew larger at this revelations. Up to this point she had thought Heather was lucky to get spanked instead of the punishments she’d received growing up. Losing her phone or computer for a week had been torture to a teenager. With her friend’s panties down and round two ready to begin, she wasn’t quite so sure.

Mary brought spoon forward with a slight upward arc, catching the meeting of bottom and thigh. The sharpness of the spank caught Heather off guard.

“Ouch goddamn…” Heather realized the words that came out of her mouth a moment too late.

“What did you say?” Mary asked her daughter.

“Nothing,” the upturned girl mumbled. The response earned her smart spanks to each thigh. “Ouch, ouch!”

“Would you prefer more than your mouth washed out?” Mary asked.

Viola covered her mouth as her jaw fell again. Being spanked at 23 was embarrassing, but her friend got her mouth-soaped for swearing also. Wow, was all she could think.

“No, no, I’m sorry for swearing.” Heather pleaded, twisting her head and shoulders around in an attempt to show her mother her contrition.

“Then go get the ivory.” Mary instructed, slapping the pinkened bottom then pointing towards the front entryway.

Heather made awkward waddle through the house to the main bathroom while keeping her panties tightly around her knees.

“What did Heather say was the reason she was in trouble?” Mary asked the stunned Viola.

“Ah…ah that she went over her cell phone minutes by like a thousand or something.”

“Six thousand five hundred and forty minutes actually.”

“Wow,” Viola mumbled. The couple of times she’d went over her allotted minutes she’d lost her phone for a week or two, and that she had only been a hundred or so over. Six thousand! She would have never gotten her cell phone back. Though how did she use that many? “How?” she mumbled as the thoughts swirled in her head.

“She keeps falling asleep with Corey on the phone at night.” Mary answered before turning her back and watching the doorway for her offspring.

Heather returned holding a slightly used bar of ivory soap. Heather never looked up as she entered the dinning room, being more preoccupied with the awful white bar in her hand and keeping her panties at the appropriate height.

Viola, conversely couldn’t stop staring at her friend. It took Viola a couple moments to realize why Heather was carrying a bar of soap. She had read about a couple news stories involving parents washing their kids mouths out with soap, but didn’t think it really happened. Well at least it didn’t happen outside of those white trash households.

“Open!” Mary commanded after taking the soap.

“Please, I’m really sorry, I’ll never ghhhff!” Mary cut off her daughter’s pleas by shoving the white slab into her mouth.

“That will stay there until I am remove it. Now back over you go.” Mary waved the wooden spoon at the gagged girl before pointing towards the table. Heather gave up her protests and resumed her spot bent over the table.

Viola had seen a couple spankings before, but this was nothing like those erotic ones. Mary peppered the proliferated bottom with the spoon. Heather cried through the soap while wiggling her hips about and occasionally kicking a leg up. All this fuss just earned her a few swats to the back of her thighs and a hand on her lower back.

Mary didn’t stop until she thought her daughter had been soundly spanked, crying only tears of contrition.

“Ok baby, I think that is enough. You can get up now.”

It took Heather a moment to regain enough of her senses to push herself up, off the table. Once uprighted, her attention immediately focused on removing the pain below. She danced from foot to foot while attempting to rub out the blaze in her tush. Viola couldn’t help but snicker at her friend dancing around like her butt was on fire.

“Come on, to the sink,” Mary said, shooing her daughter towards the kitchen. It was all the prompting Heather needed, as she quickly scampered to the sink. She knew better than to remove the bar from her own mouth and waited diligently for her mom while keeping the rubbing going at high speed.

“Do you have anything to say?” Mary asked, pulling the drool covered ivory from the girl’s mouth.

“I’m sorry for going over my cell phone minutes mommy,” Heather cried and sputtered like she was closer to three than twenty-three. She finished with a couple of spits into the sink.

“And to Viola?”

“I’m sorry for being mean,” Heather replied in the same little voice. At her pause, Mary made a slight grunt, prompting “and for lying to you about my punishments.”

“Ok, you can rinse now.” Mary turned on the faucet. Heather didn’t even both using a cup, instead dunked her head sideways to fill her mouth with water before spitting it out. Mary let her repeat the motions 5 times before turning off the faucet.
“It’s ok baby. Your all forgiven. Now you two can go up to your room and play a little bit.”

Viola looked at Mary sideways. The last bit of her statement was highly unusual to be said to two adult women. It even slightly offended her, though with Heather already out of the kitchen and that spoon sitting next to Mary, she didn’t dare argue the point.

Heather pulled her friend into her room and closed the door behind the girls. She immediately spun her friend around, “Please don’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t.”

“Promise!”

“I promise..” Viola twisted her lips from side to side. She had so many questions, but couldn’t figure out how to break the ice.

“How much damage is there?” Heather said, turning her back to her closet door, and the full length mirror hanging on it.

“Its really bad,” Viola commented as her friend twisted her torso to look over her shoulder.

“Naw, this wasn’t so bad. I’m probably lucky you came back.” Heather ran a finger over the slight hints of a bruise.

“Lucky?” was all Viola could say as Heather started blabbering on about other spankings, close calls and how she was relieved that she had someone with whom to share her secret.

Eyes Larger than Bottom

I grew up with a basketball team. Not literally, but there were 5 of us kids which is enough to form a full squad. We actually played together a couple of times, mostly against our cousins before my older brothers started going off to college. You would think that working a farm wouldn’t require a college degree, but this is the twenty-first century where everything needs a college degree. At least that is how all the guidance counselors always made it seem. I just hope there are more jobs for fresh college grads when I finish in a couple of years.

Growing up on a farm meant I had many rules and chores to do on a regular basis. With three older brothers, my chores were not that difficult and mostly were around the house, but the rules applied equally for my brothers as they did for I or my little sister. Well almost equally, because Dad mostly dealt with my brothers when they got in trouble and Mom dealt with Becky and I. This division of labor worked mostly in Becky and my favor, because during the summers and weekends we would stay outside as much as possible where Dad would let us get away with all things of mischief since he didn’t like punishing his little princesses. It was a stereotype we fit into only when Dad caught us, Mom could care less.

Most of the rules were quite standard for any farm family, like always latching the field gates, making sure tools are put away at night, doing your chores on time, keep up our manners, etc. Oddly we never really had curfews, rather we had to milk the cows at 5am, which meant none of us ever wanted to stay out beyond 10pm. The couple times when there was a school dance or something, we had to tell Mom when we would be home and stick to the time. No big deal.

One of the odder rules involved dinner. Living on a dairy farm, we had ample supply of beef, including steaks, for dinner. When we were young, the rule was Dad got the largest one and then we kids choose the smaller ones. When we reached our teens, the rule shifted to, take which ever you want, but you HAVE to finish what you take. My parents were poor growing up so wasting was a big no-no in my family. I guess the rule was actually not to waste anything someone else could use and food was were it came into play regularly.

So back to my current predicament. I had missed lunch today so when we sat down for dinner, I went straight for the largest steak and a nice big baked potato. When Ryan saw what I did, he raised his eyebrow a little as if to say “are you sure?” I was sure, at that moment. Fifteen minutes later, I wasn’t quite so sure and by 25 I was regretting my choice. Since I had turned 18 I seemed to be having a final growth spurt which meant I could eat constantly and not gain a pound. I know, your jealous. Well this new found hunger, plus no lunch, meant I was extra hungry when we sat down. But it still wasn’t enough to finish the 16 oz sirloin steak, a 6-inch potato and a salad plus some veggies.

Everyone else had finished and I was trying to stuff a little more into my stomach when Mom said “Becky, Rachelle will clear the table before we have a little chat.” I sat down my fork admitting defeat. My stomach was so full it ached.

“OK,” Becky said as she got up from the table, and taking her plate to the kitchen. She gave me look of condulences as she passed me. Mom, Dad and Ryan followed Becky’s lead in clearing their setting, now I needed to clear my setting then put the leftovers away and load the dishwasher.

I pushed back my chair when Ryan re-entered the dinning room. “I’ll finish your extras. Maybe Mom won’t be so upset.” Ryan said as he took my fork and plate. It was a nice gesture, which hopefully would work. I hadn’t technically wasted any food.

I picked up some of the serving dishes and took them into the kitchen. Mom was there fumbling with a few of the leftovers that where still on the stove. I sat the quarter full bowl of green beans on the counter and the dishes with the juices from the steaks into the sink, then went for another trip of dishes.

On my arrival from my fourth, and final trip to the dinning room, Mom was standing next to the sink, waiting for me. Her hands were resting on her hips and ‘your in trouble’ was written all across her face. At least it wasn’t the “I’m disappointed in you” look which would rip my heart out.

“I’m sorry Mom. I really thought I was hungry enough to finish everything, but I just couldn’t. I won’t do it again. Can you just spank me and forgive me?” I blurted out before she could say anything. I hated the lectures Mom would give. I didn’t like spankings either, but the lecture beforehand always seemed to put off the spanking on forever while my anxiety just built and built.

Mom looked at me for a moment, then just nodded towards the breakfast nook. Even though I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, my feet still took little steps over to the table. It was like my body was trying to preserve itself while my mind had clearly accepted its fate. I unbuttoned and pulled down my jeans before leaning over the table to grab the other side. I was hoping Mom would let me keep my panties up. I know, it would probably be the first time, but there’s always a chance.

Mom fished around in the utensil jar for a few moments then came over behind me. I felt her rest her hand on my bottom for a few moments before pulling back and delievering a series of quick spanks spread over both cheeks. They weren’t so bad, since my panties damped some of the sting.

SMACK SMACK SMACK! Mom kept raining down spanks with her hand while she said “Rachelle, you know better than to waste food.”

I bottom was beginning to feel warm as Mom shifted her attention to just one cheek at a time. My right cheek took the brunt of her firepower first. Even through my panties, the sting started to build quickly. I wiggled a little and Mom shifted to the other cheek. It was no time before she had every spank sting like a bee.

And then she stopped all of a sudden. My reprieve only lasted a few seconds before Mom pulled the back of my panties down, rubbing them slowly over my red bottom until they were hanging at mid-tight. The cool air on hot skin suprised me a little.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! Mom brought the rubber spatula down hard and fast. I couldn’t stand it anymore and let the tears flow.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! My crying didn’t deter her as she picked up her speed and force. I wiggled by bottom from side to side which just got her to place her left hand on my lower back while she kept tanning my hide. Bending my knee just earned me a few swats to the thigh.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! Every inch was covered with red marks. The top. The sides. The bottom. The oh-so painful crease between cheek and thigh. I just cried on as Mom throughly completed her work.

SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” I cried and cried, giving up all my determination to remain strong. The sting was just too wicked.

Then just as sudden as it had started, it was over. I didn’t realize it at the time, because the fire in my rear burned as strong as ever. Mom let go of my back and set the spatula into the sink.

“Come on honey, up you go now.” Mom cooed as she helped me. Those key words released my hands from their iron grip on the table edge, allowing them to fly back to rub my bottom. I buried my teary eyes in her chest as she held me tight. “It’s over now. I love you but be a little more curtious next time.” She let go of me as I started to regain my composure.

“I’m sorry mommy,” I cried wimpered. Why does a spanking turn any girl into a 4 year old? It happens with me. I’ve seen it happen with my sister and girl cousins. It’s like every minute under her mother’s hand, makes a girl act a year, or 4 for that spatula, younger. I’d probably only been over the table for 4-5 minutes, but felt 15 years younger!

“I know honey. Wash all the dishes and put them away then you can go.” Mom said as she motioned to the sink.

I started to slowly step over towards the sink, with my hands still firmly secured to my bottom, when I realized I was bare below the waist. I had to have covered the ten feet to the sink in a second flat. It was the best option to preserve a little of my modesty while dealing with the horrible sting. I heard Mom chuckle at my scamper as she left me alone in the kitchen.

I rubbed for another few minutes, keeping my pubis firmly against the counter in front of the sink. The sting finally resided enough for me to dampen a hand with cool water and apply it to my stingy cheeks. I jumped a little at the first touch, but soon had both cheeks damp. Cool water after a spanking is wonderful sensation, though before a spanking is torture. I learned that tid-bit a year ago after swimming in the pond.

Once the fire was quenched to a mild sting, I got to work on the task at hand. Even though no one was in the kitchen, I didn’t dare move very far back from the countertop. I think Ryan had taken off to his girlfriend’s right after dinner so Becky was the only one who might spy on me. Her spying on me like this is embarassing, mainly because I was naughty than from a lack of modesty.

“Eyes bigger than your stomach?” Becky asked from behind me as I finished up washing the last of the dishes.

“Nope, I wanted to get spanked!” I snipped back, flicking water at her. “Brat!”

“Thought so,” Becky snickered. “You want some help drying?”

She wanted something. There wasn’t any other reason why she would volunteer to help me with my punishment.

“Mom said you could drive me over to Grant’s after you got done.”

Boyfriend time was the real motivator. “Fine,” I accepted. We’d be done in a few minutes and I’d be able to put my jeans back on.

Admirable goals of a spoiled brat

The story begins with Just Your Everyday Spoiled Brat Party and continued with Consequences for the spoiled brats.

Gwen sat on the edge of her bed, waiting. In five days she would be returning to college, with all its excitement, camaraderie and parties, but right now she had to wait. Waiting some unknown length of time for her mom.

She turned the slab of oak in her hands over and over. It was something to do, even if it didn’t break her focus on the inevitable. Soon this piece of wood would be a pain in the ass, literally. It was so small, really. At about twelve inches long and a three inch blade, the paddle weighted barely a pound. But it was this slender profile that had made it so deadly to her bottom.

She glanced up, instinctively looking across her room, towards the small corner formed between her closet and bathroom door. “Then over there,” she thought aloud. Corner-time was the worst part about being spanked. Displaying her bare bottom was so embarrassing, even if it was just to her empty room. And tonight she’d be there completely nude. Her mother probably would even leave her bedroom door open so everyone in the house would see her there.

Gwen’s mother cleared her throat loud, breaking Gwen’s daydreams. “You go to the bathroom?” she asked her daughter.

“Yes,” Gwen answered meekly, looking down at her hands, which nervously fiddled with the paddle. A strong blush filled her cheeks as she was reminded of the incident prompting her mother to ask the question before every spanking. She wet her mother’s lap one time and now is reminded to pee before every spanking.

“Then stand up and I’ll take that.” Gwen’s mother indicated the paddle. The two generations exchanged the piece of wood, and with it their positions.

Gwen couldn’t understand why, but she had to stare at the paddle the whole time she stood before her mother and was scolded. She had illogical feeling that if she focused on it then the paddle couldn’t sneak up on her. Subconsciously it was she was trying to avoid the feelings of letting her parents down that came with the scolding.

“I still can’t believe you got yourself arrested. Your father and I raised you better than that. Especially not to do what you were doing, what ever it was!” Gwen’s mother scolded. “Do you have anything to say?”

That last line always finished these lectures. There was only one thing Gwen could do. “I’m sorry mom. I really am. You don’t need to spank me again, I’ve learned my lesson,” Gwen pleaded.

“I don’t want this lesson to be one you forget, EVER!” Gwen’s mom took up the same position which Gwen held a mere ten minutes earlier. “You can remove that robe, young lady,” she said, motioning to the knot around her daughter’s waist.

Even though her mother had seen her naked many times, it was situations like this that were the hardest to disrobe. Her fingers fumbled with the Terra cloth knot, to really able to follow the order provided by her left brain. “Please?”

The plea of mercy fell on deaf ears. A pair of raised eyebrows was enough to prompt Gwen into decisive action, freeing the knot and shedding the robe. The front flaps parted slightly to show more of her cleavage and little else.

“Please mom, not hard!” Gwen pleaded, even though she obediently draped her torso over the awaiting knees. “I put in as much time as they would allow.”

“You shouldn’t have had to do community service in the first place!” Gwen’s mother scolded her upturned daughter. She didn’t really care how much of the community service Gwen had done, but the outstanding community service hours may help drive home her point. She wasn’t one who believed in undue formality during spankings, mainly because she hated it when her father had made her count her swats. “But you are right.”

“I am?” Gwen squeaked. Her mother had never gave in to any of her pleas for mercy before, so why now? Was it a trap?

“You have tried to put in the time. How much did you get completed?” Gwen was asked.

“Ah…46 hours.”

“So you have 54 left? Then I’ll only spank you 54 times.”

“MOM!” The realization hit her a little to late. 54 was probably more than she would normally get, though she had never tried counting.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The little paddle blasted into Gwen’s bottom with a slow cadence. The sound of her mother’s voice, mocking with it painstakingly slow increase.

CRACK! “Eight,” CRACK! “Nine,” CRACK! “Ten.”

“Ouch! please!” Gwen cried as her mother reached a dozen. The little piece of white oak was doing too effectively, Gwen thought.

CRACK! “Fourteen,” CRACK! “Fifteen,” CRACK! “Sixteen.”

“Ahh, Ahhh, ahhh pleaaasssahhh!” Gwen cried in unison to her mother’s counting. Her bottom had moved well past the sunburn stage and started to get to the frying pan stage. It was at this point she would always start to involuntarily kick her legs about, trying to move her bottom out of firing range. It was a pointless exercise, but her mind said she had to do something.

CRACK! “Twenty-four,” CRACK! “Twenty-five,” CRACK! “Twenty-six.” Gwen’s mom paused for a moment to view her work. Both of her daughter’s cheeks held a deep red tone, with slight maroon and purple ovals forming at the crowns. She hated going past this point and causing bruises, but experience had told her than Gwen only learned when she couldn’t sit for a few days. She consciously sat aside her motherly instinct of sweeping up her crying baby in her arms and reminded herself that Gwen had gotten arrested and needed this lesson.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The little paddle blasted away again. Gwen semi-audible pleas turned less distinguishable as the count rose into the thirties. By forty, Gwen was reduced to a low continuous wail, punctuated with hiccups timed to the impact of oak on flesh.

Gwen didn’t even realize her mother had reached the end until she was helped up and into a mighty hug.

“Waaaaa, soorrry, waaaa,” the girl cried into her mother’s chest.

“It’s ok baby. it’s ok.” Mother hugged daughter while daughter tried to rub away the fire. After a minute or so, Gwen was ushered to her usual bedroom corner to cry herself out and reflect on why she was in this position. Earlier she knew this would happen, and at the time modesty and the embarrassment of being placed in a corner like a naughty child were all she could think about. Now, neither mattered.

Her mother left her there until her parents decided to head to bed, a period of about an hour. The time served her well, allowing her to fully regain her composure while reflecting on the changes she wanted to make in her life. Unlike after most spankings, this time she resolved on the admirable goals of focusing on school, avoiding guys and trying to build a friendship with Becky.

Consequences for the spoiled brats

This story begins with Just Your Everyday Spoiled Brat Party. I recommend you read it first.

Becky had yet to leave her room since she got home from the police station. She didn’t really want to face her father, nor did she really fell like walking much. There was also the grounding issue. The housekeeper had delivered her meals and with her in-suite bathroom, she didn’t need to leave. She just laid on her stomach and watched TV all day, plotting her revenge on Gwen. Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill was providing her some spectacular inspiration.

Monday arrived and so did the anticipation of her mother’s arrival. She had only had a very brief conversation with her Mom on Sunday, which ended with that awful phrase “we will discuss this when I get home!” Becky knew full-well that the discussion would be one sided, with her doing very little of the talking.

“Ms. Rebecca, your father left this note for you.” their housekeeper told Becky when she brought up her breakfast.

“Thank you, Maria.” Becky said, taking the note and egg-white omelet. She closed the door then sat the tray on her desk before picking up the note. It was probably some more punishment or something, she thought.

“Becky, I have some errands for you to run for my office. You are to go straight to city hall and straight home when you get done. NO WHERE ELSE. Your keys are on the kitchen counter. Call me from the house phone when you get home. I’m going to pick up Mom from the airport and we’ll be home around 8 ~Dad.”

It could have been worst, she thought. At least she gets to leave the house, even if it is to go play page-girl. Normally, she would have preferred the law firm to city hall, so she could flirt with the cute associates, but today was not a flirty day. Today felt more like a pouting, sulky type of day. Sulking around the city hall didn’t sound like much fun though. She would have rather went to the beach, the mall or even the gym than city hall.

Becky plopped down onto her desk chair and instantly remembered why the beach would be a bad idea. Her bottom still ached and probably looked worst than it felt. Not a good combination with a string bikini. No matter, she would not be going anywhere she wanted to until college started next week. Maybe….

Becky reread the note twice more before the loophole hit her. Dad had required her to call when she got home so he’d know she went straight home, but he didn’t say anything about calling before she left. A quick glance at her alarm clock and a few simple estimates for traffic, getting ready and such told her that she would might have an extra hour, if she was quick. An hour at the mall was risky, and the good one wasn’t on the way to city hall. The gym, on the other hand was on the way, and she could get in a nice workout in an hour.

Becky scarfed down the omelet before stuffing a dressier outfit in her duffel bag and changing into yoga pants and a t-shirt. A light windbreaker and she was off. She referred to it as a gym, but The Club, as her parents and fellow members referred to it, was far from an ordinary gym. It really a private club with dinning rooms, a bar, and meeting rooms in addition to the standard gym and spa facilities.

An uptempo Becky rounded the privacy corner to find the locker room quite empty. It was 10 o’clock on a Monday morning, so it wasn’t too surprising to find the gym sparsely populated. She started to make her way down the rows of lockers when another woman crossed from the bathroom area into the locker alcoves.

It took Becky a moment to recognize the brunette. “Really?” she thought. “That bitch is at MY gym!” She took off in a huff to confront the cause of so much pain this weekend. She turned into the locker set where the girl had disappeared and stopped dead in her tracks. It was obvious that Becky had not been seen as the girl was bending over, fishing something out of the bottom of her locker, completely oblivious to her watcher. Becky let her jaw drop as she took in the sight before her.

The girl was wearing only bikini panties and a sports bra. In her current, inverted position, the panties had rode up into a slight wedgie, exposing the lower half of her cheeks. The lower half of her cheeks was had shocked Becky. Against the light pinkish brown background, a black and blue bruise marred the center of each cheek.

Becky let out a slight gasp. The girl had not heard Becky enter the locker room, and was consequently startled by the sound behind her. The brunette straightened up and turned around to come face-to-face with her rival. Upon seeing Becky, Gwen’s mood soured considerably.

“What?!” Gwen snapped. “Say whatever you are going to. I’m in no mood for your bitchiness right now.”

“I…ah…didn’t think..” Becky felt herself for a lost of words, a rare occurrence when dealing with people her own age. All the hatred she had for this girl seemed to disappear in a moment, and she didn’t understand why.

“Whatever, go tell all your friends that poor little Gwen is still spanked.” Gwen spewed her resentment at Becky finding out her secret.

“I..ah.. I didn’t think you still got it. I know back then, but now?” Becky said.

“Whatever,” Gwen dismissed turning back to her locker and the task of getting dressed. She wanted out of here and Becky’s sight as soon as possible.

“Gwen,” Becky placed a hand on her shoulder, turning the brunette around. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I promise.”

“Sure you won’t.”

“I won’t, because I know what it’s like.”

“Yea, yea, I remember that incident with my Mom’s car. But this isn’t the same. You don’t understand.”

Becky pursed her lips for a moment. This had most definitely not been part of her planned revenge on Gwen. Maybe she wasn’t all evil. They had been friends once. Fine she would show Gwen how she understood.

“Look,” Becky set down her bag then turned to her left side. Hooking her right thumb under the waistbands of her yoga pants and panties, she pulled the both down, revealing her right cheek. Raised maroon and purple welts still decorated her bottom.

“Oh, my god!” Gwen gasped at the sight. Gwen had long-ago thought she was the only girl in Malibu still spanked by her parents.

“See, I know what’s it like.”

“I didn’t think anyone still got it.” Gwen responded, still starring.

“Me neither. But you look to got it worst than me.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks. Its a standard paddling response, yours though. Ouch.” Gwen commented, running her finger along one of the purple ridges.

“Ouch.” Becky jumped, letting her panties and pants snap back into place.

“Sorry. What made those welts?”

“Dad’s belt.”

Gwen cringed at the thought of a leather belt searing into her bottom. Her mother’s little paddle was painful, but the belt was a whole different level she never wanted to reach. “I bet your dad was pissed. I saw him enter the police station as I left.”

“Pissed would have been better. He gave me the silent treatment the whole way home, then lit into me at home. The belt was only the start of my punishment. I’m grounded and stuff too. Mom has refused to talk about it until she gets home tonight.”

Gwen offered a sympathetic frown. “At least you were clothed. The cops caught me in the pool and provided an orange jumpsuit. Mom made me take it off and my panties before going to town with that damn paddle.”

“She still uses that same paddle she used on us?” Becky asked.

“No, that one broke shortly afterwards. She replaced it with this oak one that looks like a small sorority paddle.”

“Yikes!”

“Yup. ‘Panties down, over my lap and apply soundly until she no longer kicks and screams,’ is my Mom’s motto.” Gwen recited.

“Mom is the same way. Tonight will be hell.” Becky said, as she eased herself onto the bench.

“You got another one coming also?” Gwen asked.

“Probably, Mom said we’d have a ‘discussion’ when she got home.”

“Ah.”

“Why? are you getting another one?” Becky asked,

“If I am lucky.” Gwen remarked, drawing a puzzled look from Becky. “I’m to get one every Friday and Sunday night until my community service is complete.”

“Community service?”

“Yea, I should thank you for that, actually your dad and Melanie’s. Everyone caught at the party got 100 hrs of community service in exchange for all charges being dropped. Your Dad didn’t tell you?” Gwen informed Becky.

“No….”

“Yea, they couldn’t be seen favoring their kids. Better than going to court. I’m starting my community service this afternoon to limit my dates with that blasted paddle.” Gwen didn’t mention the hour of naked corner-time that went along with her paddlings. Normal corner-time was humiliating enough, but since she had been caught in such an immodest state, her mother felt it appropriate to associate immodestly with her punishment.

“I guess community service is better than court.” Becky shrugged.

“It is surely better than a spanking.” Gwen smirked, drawing a smile from Becky.