Halloween Pranks

This is a story I wrote last month and had scheduled to be posted the night before Halloween, however I somehow messed up the scheduling aspect and it was never posted. So here is a little belated Halloween story.

Halloween is the best holiday of the year. There is no debating it. There is a slight chill in the air, revitalizing you after long hot summer. Couple that with the parties, the decorations and the sweets and you have a spectacular month of celebrations. And, it is the only time of the year where you can dress up as a complete slut and no one gives you a second look. Well, the creepy guys do, but they always do. Whether you are naughty nurse with two tiny strips of fabric covering the vital areas or a frumpy mother of two with no makeup and in baggy sweats.

All of those points are just icing on the cake to the best part of Halloween, pranks. The “treat” portion of trick or treating is good, but the trick portion is much, much better. There are few things better in life than pulling of the perfect prank. The culmination of a hundred little steps in the look of shock is unlike anything else. The receiver of my pranks where not as always so receptive. As a kid, I just assumed I was grounded from Halloween until about Thanksgiving, and every year it was worth it.

This year I had one of my better pranks planned out. George was going to be out of town on business the week of Halloween, not to return until the morning of the first, which meant the kids were mine. I had yet to pull any of my master pranks on the kids, but it seemed right year to indoctrinate them.

Being four and six, they had yet to understand the intricacies of this wonderful holiday, and instead focused just on the candy. Will had been planning his costume since labor day, building a really good replica of R2D2 out of a trashcan, just some cardboard, paint and a bunch of his dad’s help. George had somehow gotten a copy of the original plans for the studio and helped him build it exactly like the movies.

I took Friday off work to attend Gina’s class party in the morning and then Will’s in the afternoon. They both looked so adorable. Gina had choose a little Cinderella dress with matching plastic “glass” slippers. I swear, half the girls in her class chose to one of the two characters from Frozen. Her party went pretty much as expected, especially when any “sweets” were banned and replaced fruit and veggies. The other mothers actually made a bigger fuss than the kids.

Gina tagged along to Will’s party, which he didn’t particularly like, but it didn’t cause any harm. Will’s class allowed sweets, but only ones acceptable to all kids. This meant gluten free, sugar free, peanut free, round pieces of cardboard were handed out as “cookies.” I almost bust out laughing at the face Gina made when she tried one. Ever the miss manners, she struggled to finish the horrible desert.

After school the kids wanted to immediately go trick or treating, and were quite annoyed when they had to wait three hours, as well as eat dinner. We spent about an hour walking around the neighborhood, with them trying to get candy from every house, insignificant of the porch light being on. At the end, Will wanted to continue, even through he was starting to struggle with carrying his heavy bag of candy.

I poured the candy from their two bags into one big pile on the kitchen island. Holding the big bowl in my left hand, I quickly picked out the good pieces around the edges. Will and Gina watched with baited breath while I sorted out the good candy and the suspicious pieces. I was about a third of the way done when I sat the bowl between them and said “OK, you can choose one piece to eat tonight.”

I turned my head to sort out a few more good pieces and when I looked back, both of the kids were chomping away. I had to glance around the bowl to make sure they had actually removed the wrapper before inhaling the sweet.

After sorting out the suspicious stuff, including a tiny baggie of cut celery, I carefully placed the overflowing bowl into the oven for safe storage. Two pairs of little eyes followed their treasure all the way to it’s storage space, making sure mommy didn’t try and steal any. It was so adorable, and so perfectly naive for my upcoming prank.

After I got the kids in bed, I sent my plan in motion. I had bought a second, big blue bowl yesterday and dug it out of the closet where I had hid it. Removing their candy from the oven, I pull out an old cookie tray and lined it with aluminum foil. I then set the second bowl of candy on the try and returned it to the oven. Cranking it up to 450, I figured the bowl would be a heap of plastic in no time.

I was correct. Fifteen minutes later I had a mushy pile of blue plastic that had the slightest resemblance of a bowl. I pulled it out of the oven and decorated the top with the wrappers of the candy I had ate while waiting for the bowl to melt. It looked perfect mistake. I replaced the melted bowl in the oven when it had cooled down and went to bed, eagerly waiting for morning.

—-

“MOM! MOM! OUR CANDY!” Will yelled, as he shook me awake.

“Hu? What do you mean?” I said, not immediately realizing what he said in my semi-drozy state.

“Out candy is all gone!” Gina cried beside her brother.

My prank came back in a flash. “No, it’s just in the oven, where you saw me put it last night,” I faked rubbing sleep from my eyes.

“Com’on see!” Will tugged me down to the kitchen, barely allowing me to grab my robe along the way.

“It’s all gone,” Will blubbered, dropping to his knees in front of the open oven. The kids were not supposed to get in the oven without my permission, but that rule had been obviously overlooked before I woke up.

“Oh no, what could have happened?” I faked concern, holding my hand over my mouth to prevent the kids from seeing the grin I knew was going to be overtaking my lips soon.

Will stared at the pile of melted blue plastic, blubbering some nonsense. Gina, on the other hand had quietly stepped back from the bowl, seemly in shock. I did my best to cover the giggle I could feel building inside when I heard Gina in the living room.

“Yes 911 I need help!” Gina cried into the receiver.

“Oh shit!” I mumbled, running for the living room.

“OK, honey, just try to calm down…” I heard coming from the phone as I reached her. I immediately separated Gina and the receiver.

“Sorry, everything’s OK. My daughter just misunderstood something.”

“Ma’am, who is this?” the 911 operator demanded.

I spent the next few minutes trying to convince her that everything was ok and or disregard the crying she heard in the background. I was fearful of police showing up at any minute and busting down our front door.

After getting off the phone, I scolded Gina for her poor usage of 911 then told the kids it was all a big joke. This was the point were I started to think about George’s opinion of my prank. I tried to pacify the kids with some extra candy, but they were still annoyed with my prank that they ratted me out to George when he got home.

And that is why I am here. Nose to the corner, waiting for George to finish a few emails and come upstairs.

—-

“Come here,” George commands. I scamper over to his side, hoping to go over his knee, rather than be sent over the end of the bed. He sits down on the edge and I start laying myself over his offered lap when he stops me. “Not so fast. Does my baby know why she is being punished?”

His tone is soft and comforting, but reeks of disappointment. It sent a chill through me, and not the good, excited kind, but the “I’m scared of what is going to happen” kind. “Yes, sir” I mumble, looking down at this sock covered feet.

“Good. Then you can go over there and bend over and grab your ankles.” George motions to the center of our bedroom.

I hate getting spanked bending over and grabbing my ankles. It makes me feel like such a naughty little girl. That feeling probably came from the Halloween when we went in paired costumes; I as a naughty school girl and George as the strict headmaster. The sex that night was spectacular, even if it involved him pounding away at my freshly caned bum.

I step to the prescribed spot and reach down for my toes. The once easy task of touching my toes is hindered by my reduced flexibility from age and two children. I feel all the muscles start to strain across my thighs, then up towards the peak of my body. The skin stretches taught as I grab a hold just above my ankles before closing my eyes and waiting. I do not want to know what a waits my bottom.

The whistle of air is the only indication that he has started. I try to brace for the impact but I am a millisecond too late. As is typical, the first stroke overwhelms my senses, as it rushes from my bottom, down my spine to my brain. My eyes flash open as I try to scream, but instead I can gulp for a new breath.

I am more prepared for the second stroke, gritting my teeth and sucking in air as now recognized cane cuts into my bottom. I take the third and fourth strokes as well as the second one. On the fifth one he catches me low one the cheeks and I let out a little squeak. The sixth one is lower still and I let my displeasure with its placement be known through low, drawn-out “ouch!”

George breaks his steady pace. I can feel him moving closer to my hips and I can only think of him taking me from behind. Rather, I am hoping he will take me now. A quiver runs through my pelvis and I’m sure my hips quake.

He dances his fingertips across my stripped bottom and I clench every muscle in my pelvis. “Do you think you have been punished adequately?” George asks, dancing his fingers close and closer to my ache.

“Yessssss,” I coo, hoping he will move south.

“Well, I don’t think so. Another half-dozen seems warranted,” he says, removing his fingers. I groan at his intention to continue, but I know better than to openly complain, especially in my current position. “But first.”

“Ahhh,” I gasp as he touches me again. This is the best part of being naughty.

Yobun’na supankingu

The story begins with Welcome to Josei no Kiritsu Spa and Dojo. I recommend you read that story first.

Stacey knocked tentatively on the Dojo’s door. When no one answered, she knocked again, then tried the handle. The door was locked. Maybe Sensei Hirsha forgot, she thought hopefully. She started to leave when a neon pink sticky note on the floor of the alcove opposite of the door, caught her attention. Picking it up, the first word dashed all hope of a reprieve.

“Student, Fold clothes neatly and stack them beside door. Seiza on your clothes with nose against wall until I arrive. ~Hirsha”

Glancing up and down the hall, she was slightly relieved to see no one around. The little alcove by the door would hide her so long as no one walked down the hall. It would also provide some cover while she undressed, which was a horrifying thought. Someone walking by while she was half undressed was somehow much worst to her than stripping in the locker room and walking her naked. Slipping off the shoulder straps, she quickly wiggled the dress and panties together over her hips and into a pile on the floor. She took another peak down the hall before hastily folding into eighth and setting it on her sandals next to the door. With her panties hide inside the folds of the dress, she knelt down into the seiza position and waited.

Stacey had been waiting in the prescribed position for forty-five minutes when Sensei Hirsha arrived.

“Come girl,” Hirsha told Stacey as she unlocked the door. Stacey gingerly

“Seiza”

“You don’t listen. You bad girl. Yoga positions important to Jujutsu because they make strong core. Strong core, makes you good at Jujutsu. Understand?”

“Yes, sensei,” Stacey wasn’t sure what else to say. Jujutsu was all about having a strong, solid core stance from which you could strike, throw or deflect.

“Good, you learning. Now you learn more. First supankingu. Kowtow.” Hirsha told her student as she rose to her feet.

Stacey bowed forward, until her head touched the floor and her hand lay flat before her. While Stacey had never been to a Yobun’na supankingu before, she had a general idea what would happened, and it ended with her sleeping on her stomach.

“Lower,” Hirsha commented when she returned from the cabinet in the corner. Stacey reached farther forward and tried to get her chest lower to the floor. Her breast had been touching though now they were crushing under her weight. The shift had the effect of curving Stacey’s spine, providing a more pronounced target for Hirsha.

Hirsha knelt to the side of Stacey, so that her right hand had ample access to the derriere she had striped earlier. “No move or we begin supankingu again.” Hirsha instructed, brushing the leather and bamboo paddle across its target.

“Yes, sensei” Stacey said with a sigh.

The paddle fell like the spring time rains of Hirsha’s hometown in Japan. Tradition said Yobun’na supankingu was to be carried out in three parts, with the first part consisting of three minutes of a light, fast spanking. This was how Hirsha received Yobun’na supankingu when she was much younger and now how she taught her students.

Stacey maintained quiet groans as the sting of every individual swat merged together into one painful sensation. As the paddle fell, the tension in her shoulders and clenching of her lower cheeks grew. Every so often the paddle would wrap catch her at the intersection of her thighs, spiking her senses into releasing a yelp.

Hirsha stopped after counting to 180 silently. At about one swat per second, the 150 or so swats had created the desired even pink glow across the student’s bottom and the very tops of her thighs. The tramlines from this morning’s practice had mostly disappeared into the general coloring. Hirsha had learned the advantages of the first part of Yobun’na supankingu when she was a beginner like Stacey here. The quick, fast spanking would break up the swelling and scar tissue caused by a cane, allowing the bottom to heal much quicker, even if it was just as painful overall.

“Enough supankingu, now we fix mistakes.” Hirsha said to her student’s visible relief. Stacey’s shoulders slumped while the high and the tight globes she had presented Hirsha, returned to their natural relaxed state. “Stand up.”

For the next twenty minutes, Stacey was asked to perform every technique Hirsha had ever taught her. She sailed through the novice level techniques, showing perfect form every time. The beginner level techniques where not as well ingrained into her muscle memory and tripped up a couple. She was only slightly surprised when three searing swats landed on her backside when she made the first mistake. She was more surprised that after the reprimand, the sensei showed her the correct form, then walked through every motion with her multiple times before expecting her to preform it independently again. Out of the three dozen techniques she knew, less than half a dozen required any correction.

“Good, good. Now we end with reminder.” Hirsha said. “Get in downward dog.”

Stacey sighed deeply, instantly knowing her punishment was far from over. She’d been in enough of Hirsha’s classes to know the sensei only had students get into that yoga position before they were to be caned. The prominence of the target area made the position perfect for a caning, if a little embarrassing.

She watched Hirsha go towards the cabinet in the corner before resigning herself to another session with that evil rattan rod. Getting onto her stomach, she pushed herself up into a plank then shifted her shoulders backwards, thrusting her bottom upwards and into downward dog.

“Now reminder to always do good. You get three with big cane. No move or I start again.”

Stacey took a deep breath before answering “Yes, Sensei.” The clenched her jaw, bottom and eyes, waiting for the way to familiar sting to return.

Stacey originally thought she had been shot when the heavier rattan cane bit into the crowns of her cheeks. Her popped open and her lips parted as the breath was forced from her. Tears clouded the floor as she gasped a deep breath.

The second slice was worst than the first. Hirsha lowered her aim, landing across the junction of thigh and cheek. Stacey’s voice returned with a high pitch squeal followed by quick chants of ow mixed with sniffles.

Hirsha landed the final slice a quarter-way down from the top of the thigh.

Stacey broke her chanting to squeal again before returning to the mixture of ows and sniffles.

Hirsha set the tip of the cane on the floor and leaned gently on it while she waited for her student to regain her composure. The “reminder” portion of Yobun’na supankingu had always been the hardest on her, and it was the same way for her students.

“Ok, stand up.”

“You have completed Yobun’na supankingu. You feel more disciplined?”

“Yes Sensei,” Stacey responded without thinking what a dumb question it was. She’d just been put through a half an hour of spanking. Of course she would feel disciplined.

“Good, you more disciplined now. See you in class.”

—-

As Stacey laid in bed that night with her battery-powered friend in hand, she couldn’t get Sensei Hirsha’s words out of her mind. “You more disciplined now” repeated over and over, distracting her from her carnal wants. She eventually gave up on her little friend and instead practiced her techniques into the night. As she practiced into the night, all she could think of was being the best and making her sensei proud.

Welcome to Josei no Kiritsu Spa and Dojo

Monica scanned the program packet quickly. There were a wide range of activities, from the relaxing hot mud baths to the active martial arts courses. She definitely was going to get a massage, or a couple. She’d never heard of this “Yawarakaku soko Massage”.

“Embrace your inner tenderness’s as this hour long massage works out your physical, psychological and emotional stresses.”

She had never heard of a massage working out my psychological and emotional stress, but it seemed much better than paying a therapist.

“I want to do this yawaraka soko massage,” Monica told the concierge.

“Oh, excellent choice.” The concierge commented, entering Monica’s request into the computer.

Monica flipped a few more pages, entering to the more active programs. For some reason the “Hot Jujutsu” program seemed interesting. It was open to all levels and she had always been interested in martial arts. She also thought it would be nice to know how to defend herself. New York City could get a little rough on a single woman.

“And this hot jujutsu,” she said looking further through the catalog. “Can I also add this Chokai Yoga?”

“Yes ma’am. You can sign up for five programs at a time.”

“Hmmm..” Monica contemplated what other two courses she wanted to sign up. Josei no Kiritsu Spa and Dojo was turning out to be everything her coworker Julie had said. The place was beautiful, especially wonderful view of the Cascades mountains from her room. Even the two and half hour ride from the Portland airport was luxurious. A week here was definitely worth a month’s salary.

—-

Monica awoke later than normal to the sun streaking across her room. The feather-top cover on the queen bed felt better than anything she had ever slept on and made getting out of bed all that much harder. A quick trip to the bathroom though was essential. On her way back she remembered what the concierge had said about breakfast being available downstairs or via room service. Room service sounded nice right now.

She picked up the TV remote and a few simple clicks later, breakfast was on its way. Next her focus shifted to the elixir of life. A K-cup coffee maker sat on the counter above the minibar next to a diverse selection of flavors. Wild Mountain Blueberry sounded like it would pair well with her garden crepes.

She contemplated a shower while she waited for breakfast while taking in the densely wooded valley sprawled out before her private patio. The knock at the door surprised her, though not as much as the bellhop with her breakfast already.

“Good morning Ms Van Dergess. Would you like breakfast at the table or on your patio this morning?” the bellhop asked, wheeling the small cart into her room.

“Ah, the patio would be great.” Monica took her coffee with her to fetch a few dollar tip while the bellhop setup the table setting. She tucked the

“Sorry ma’am, but the staff here is not allowed to take any gratuities.” The bellhop gently stated, waving off the tip.

“Oh, ok.” Monica said a little stunned. She tipped every servant in New York, it was the least she could do for them.

She enjoyed the spinach and tomato filled crepe while over pine forest. She found it relaxing to watch the sun slowly lower its curtain of light down the mountains and into the valley as it rose on the other side of the lodge.

Beep. Beep. Ran the phone with the reminder for Monica’s first program of the day. She started to put on her workout clothes when she remembered the resort’s prohibition of workout clothes in the main lobby. Well a nice sundress would work instead. She tossed the change of clothes into one of the resort duffel bags and made her way downstairs to the locker rooms.

The locker room had the standard country club feel to it. Hard wood lockers, soft carpeting and ultra plush chairs. Directly attached were shower facilities and a wet and dry sauna.

“Hmm, I’m supposed to have the same locker number as my room.” Monica mumbled to herself as she made her way into the locker sections. “205, 224, 304, there 307.” She put her thumb up to the scanner on the locker door, opening the locker. Monica was still amazed at the cutting edge technology everywhere in this place.

She changed from her sundress into cotton shorts and a tank-top. She was started to put on her tennis shoes when she realized she didn’t know how to get to the Dojos.

“Pardon me, but do you know where Hot Jujutsu is at?” Monica asked the only other person around her locker.

“Oh, Hot Jujutsu is though the door to the Dojos. This your first time here?” The Asian Lady answered Monica with a bright smile.

“Ah, yea, why?”

“Hot Jujutsu is done all natural. You’ll feel quite embarrassed going in there like that.”

“Hu? Your kidding me.”

“No, I’m actually going to the next class also. If you hurry, we can go together.”

The revelation shocked Monica. She hadn’t planned on walking around naked. She felt she had a good body, but there were still problem areas she’d rather not show off to strangers.

While Monica contemplated her next actions, the Asian Lady stripped off her top and bra. It wasn’t until a pair of naked women walked by the end of the row of lockers did Monica decide to play along. Anyways, no one here knew her back in New York and it might be fun.

Monica hurried to catch up, stripping away her bra and top in one motion. Watching out of the corner of her eye, she waited until the other lady was nude before lowering her shorts and panties together.

“Don’t worry about shoes either.” Monica was told as she started to sit down. She returned her tennis shoes to her locker and turned to face the Asian Lady.

“Come on, lets go.” Asian lady said closing her locker. Monica followed suit then took off behind her. “I’m Kaori.” she said, providing a hand without missing a step.

“I’m Monica, nice to meet you.”

Monica quickly became more comfortable with the whole nakedness when she entered the Dojo to find two dozen other women in the exact same outfit. The wall of floor to ceiling windows caused her some apprehension, however the dojo was located on the effective third floor and the windows appeared tinting likely preventing anyone from seeing in anyways.

The concierge’s comment last night about gym OUTFITs being prohibited in the main areas of the resort made more sense now. The hundred degree room temperature though made being naked much more comfortable.

Senei Hirsha entered the Dojo and immediately commanded everyone attention. The Hirsha may have been in her late sixties, though glided about with the ease and elegance of a twenty year old beauty queen.

“Good morning,” Hirsha spoke softly. “Please Seiza in straight line, advanced students on my right and novice on my left.”

Monica wasn’t quite sure what the instructor meant, but she knew she belonged on the left end. The more advanced students started sitting in a line from the windows, facing the sensei. Monica just followed suit, trying to sit in the odd kneeling position like rest of the students.

“Welcome to Hot Jujutsu. I am Sensei Hirsha. Today we will be working on take-downs.”

Hirsha said some stuff in Japanese which Monica didn’t understand, but just followed the lead of the other students. Most of it consisted of bowing this way or that and she did pick up that one particular bow was called Kowtow.

“Good, good. Practice time. Novice students,” Hirsha said, pointing towards Monica and the door. “Beginner students,” she said pointing at the center of the room. “Advanced students.” Hirsha told the advanced and beginner students a couple of things in Japanese before coming over to the novice students.

Hirsha showed Monica and the three other novice students two simple arm-bar take-downs, then asked them to practice the maneuver on each other. The four novices rotated fake punching or pinning each other until they felt they had mastered the simple maneuver.

“Ok, practice done, now spar time.” Hirsha told the three groups. “Seiza in a circle.”

Monica was a little concerned about sparring already, since she knew a total of 2 moves where rest of the students surely knew dozens of moves. Nonetheless, she lead the other novice students to the center of the room and quickly got down into a seiza. She may not know much yet, but she could at least show off the simple things she had learned.

Hirsha started with the novice students, acting as their partner for a structured sparring situation where the students demonstrated the two take-downs they had learned from the three basic attacks by Hirsha. Monica felt she did very good, especially since it was her first time. She successfully put Hirsha on the ground five of the six times, even if a few of the times were a little awkward.

Monica was quite impressed by the skill level of some of the beginner students. The advanced students definitely knew what they were doing, pinning each other after a considerable number of moves and counter moves by each student. Monica promised herself that she would be that good by next summer.

“Ok, class done, now cool-down time.” Hirsha said breaking into the circle of students. A couple students let out soft sighs, which Monica took to mean they would relax now. “Everyone Kowtow.”

The students knelt forward, pressing their foreheads to the floor. Hirsha said a couple more commands in Japanese which Monica didn’t recognize. She simply followed the lead of the other students through pushups, the upward dog yoga position and into the downward dog yoga position.

Sensei Hirsha paused the cool down at the downward dog position to leave the center of the circle and go off to Monica’s left where she couldn’t see the instructor. Monica closed her eyes and relaxed while she waited for the next command. She heard the sensei return, walking slowly around the outside of the circle this time.

“AHH!” Monica screamed when sting of the rattan biting into her bare bottom reached her brain. She had no warning, collapsing instantly onto the floor, grasping at her poor bottom.

“Back in position! You no good! You need discipline! Discipline mean cane!” Sensei Hirsha yelled at the blonde.

“What the hell!” Monica yelled back. She was not going to stay around here and get caned. That old lady was crazy to think she would allow herself to get canned! She was a grown woman!

Monica got a single foot planted before Sensei Hirsha used the cane to simultaneously knock her off her feet, and land another strike to her bottom, before the new student landed face down on the mats. “Now in position or you get more demerits!”

“No!” Monica cried out pushing her torso off the floor. The defiance was met with another taste of rattan, this time at the top of her thighs.

“AHHHHH!” Monica screamed out as the new intensity of pain shook her brain. “Stop!”

“You get in position?”

“No, but…” Monica sputter between a few sniffles.

Senei Hirsha sent the cane to work twice more before asking “You get in position now?”

“Sniff, yes, sniff I am!” Monica cried. She could would take the few strokes then go straight to the management.

“Good, good! In position and I come back!”

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The old sensei worked her way around the circle of students, delivering up to 12 slices of the cane to their upturned bottoms, depending on their sparring performances. Most of the women took their discipline well, vocalizing only soft groans. A few though responded with high pitched yelps. One of the beginner level students though couldn’t take her discipline and broke position like Monica.

“Bad girl! Back in position!” Sensei Hirsha yelled at the younger brunette. The brunette wiped away a few tears before rolling on to her stomach then pushing herself back into downward dog. Monica could see a tear fall from the woman’s face as she held the position. Two strokes later, she was back on the floor, grasping at her ravaged bottom.

“Bad girl! No discipline! You move hands now!” Sensei Hirsha commanded, which the brunette slowly complied with. Hirsha didn’t even allow her to get back up this time, simply resting a foot on the woman’s lower back then dishing out four quick, hard strokes while she kicked the floor and cried.

“You not disciplined girl! You come back tonight for Yobun’na supankingu!” Sensei told the student.

“Yes Sensei,” the brunette cried from her prostate position.

“Now back into position!” Sensei told her before moving on to the next student.

Monica, like most of the other students turned their heads to watch the bitter exchange, though the other students saw it as appropriate, while Monica was completely appalled.

“Now, Jakuhai, you accept discipline?” Sensei asked Monica.

“Yes sensei,” Monica responded, as was expected. She could take the few more strokes then she’d go straight to the manager. Well, get dressed then straight to the manager.

Monica gritted her teeth as the cane bit her bottom four more times. Her bottom felt like she hand sat on a curling iron.

Sensei Hirsha started pacing behind the class as she directed the students through the remaining stretches and other cool-down activities. The class was released to the locker room and Monica made her was to the locker room as fast as she could without looking like she was running.

“I’ve got to talk to the manager!” Monica grumbled to herself as she broke into the locker room. How dare that crazy old bat cane me!

“What? you got a little spanking now your going to cry to the manager?” some one said from behind Monica.

“Damn right! That crazy bat can’t be canning students!” Monica spouted off as she turned to face the other woman.

“You probably rule your little slice of the world back home, right?” the advanced level blonde confronted Monica. “Well here, everyone is equal. Everyone participants and everyone gets disciplined for their faults. It is how this place is so rejuvenating. You are rejuvenating your body, mind and spirit! That is why you came here right!?”

“Ah..yea” Monica stammered. The sudden outburst from the blonde who looked to be barely a year out of college surprised her.

“Well then you need to participant in all parts, the fun, the entertaining and the discipline! It is a full program and in order to get the effects you must participate fully! You may have been given the choice of which programs to participate in, the programs themselves are not a-la-crate! And the discipline would you good. I know William would agree.”

“William?” Monica asked, trying to remember meeting a William during her brief stay. There had only been a few men and she couldn’t remember if any of them had been named William.

“Gattry, YOUR boss.” the blonde responded curtly. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Other than being self-righteous smart-Alec, no,” Monica retorted.

“This week better fix you attentiveness at work. I’m Valerie McConnell, and yes that McConnell,” Valerie stated shaking her head then turned towards her locker. Monica seemed like the type to take a moment to realize the obvious and she needed to grab her robe for before the hot bath.

Monica ran through every Valerie she had ever heard of in her mind. A couple politicians, a news reporter, a former colleague but no McConnell. “Who is Valerie McConnell?” she quietly whispered to herself. Then she remembered the company which owned her firm was called McConnell Longford, and that the annual report emails came from the CEO, one V. McConnell. The V must have stood for Valerie.

Monica dashed after Valerie, catching her at the door to the baths. “I’m so sorry Ms. McConnell. I didn’t mean to offend you. I really want to do better and I’ll show you, I’ll…” Monica apologized while trying to kiss up to her company’s head.

“Don’t kiss my ass,” Valerie cut her off. “You came her to re-center yourself and that is what you will do. You will embrace the program and gladfully accept every part. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Monica responded a little too eagerly.

“And I expect to see you tomorrow morning in class. Now you should get to your next class. Tardiness is not taken lightly around here.”

“Yes, ma’am” Monica answered before returning to her locker.

Monica made her way back to her locker to get her clothes when she ran into the Asian lady who’d spoke to her earlier.

“Hey, don’t worry about class. Its always a little bit of a shock for first timers.”

“Oh, yea..” Monica mumbled focusing on her locker than the half-naked woman behind her.

“I remember my first time here, I thought all the staff hated me. I got it at almost every program for the first couple of days. I then started to relax, accept I wasn’t going to sit for the rest of the week. Everything got much better. I even started to enjoy the whack here or there.”

“Enjoy it? You like that?!” Monica rebutted pointing towards the door leading to the workout rooms.

“Yea, it is all in the aftercare.”

“Hu?”

“Do you have anything scheduled right now?”

“Ah, not until lunch.”

“Give me a moment and we’ll go over to the jacuzzi. Fifteen minutes in there and you’ll be begging for another canning.”

“That bad?”

“Pure ecstasy! Just be glad you did get yoobuna soopkangu,” the Asian lady stated, exchanging her bra for a robe.

“Why? What is yubanna soapkingu?” Monica asked.

Double Delight

My phone vibrated with the incoming text “wht u do 2nite?” “nothin” I responded to Candi. She had to know of a party. Candi is the stereotypical blonde. Really don’t know how she got into State, but she sure did make it fun. Candi knew of a party every weekend, and multiple parties on most weekends. I started tutoring her in algebra during our first semester, and we quickly became good friends. She is actually quite intelligent, but lacks all common sense. She’s also tall blonde and gorgeous, which really helps with the party invites.

“Want 2 party? 1 in UP” Candi texted back. A party in University Park, cool!

“Yea when” I texted.

“Pick U up in 30, bring suit” Candi responded. Thirty minutes would not be much time to get ready. First, which bathing suit should I wear? The blue one or the Pink one? The teal one from VC’s Pink collection has a boyshorts bottoms, which really shows off my ass. Definitely the right choice. I slip into the Lycra two-piece and check my self out in the mirror. I don’t compare to Candi, but I should be able to get a guy or two’s attention. A pair of cutoffs and college t-shirt were all I needed. Keys, cellphone and purse and I was off.

“Mom, I’m going to go out with Candi,” I told Mom as I passed by the living room.

“Have you ate yet?”

“I’ll get something with Candi,” I told her as I dug out my sandals from the back of the closet. My phone vibrated across the floor behind me, probably signaling Candi’s arrive outside.

“OK honey, but be back by midnight. I want to go shopping in the morning.”

“Ok, bye!” I yelled as I walked out the front door. Candi was waiting for me in her convertible.

“You ready for some fun?” Candi asked.

“Got it on.” I said sliding into the passenger’s seat.

The party was great! Hot guys, cool party, good food and lots to drink. I tried to keep my drinking in check but the guy making drinks was good. He was cute too. He kept making me special drinks that were irresistible. A pina collada, mojito and some mango thing I couldn’t sit down.

For all his work, I let him take me for a swim once the sun went down. We didn’t swim much, rather we just made out in the shadows of the pool. I dry humped him as we made out and then just reached into his shorts and gave him a hand-job. It was so sexy knowing everyone around could see us, but no one knew what we were doing. Well I guess they could see us kissing, but nothing more.

We eventually moved on into the dinning room where some card games were going on. I’d never heard of it, but tried my hand at Egyptian Rat Screw. I turned out to be good at it, winning three games. I was in the kitchen when I noticed it was nearly 1 AM. Damn I should’ve been home an hour ago. Candi was no where in sight but personal bartender

“Hey, did you drive? I got to get going and I can’t find Candi,” I said.

“Yea, I was thinking of leaving anyways. I can drop you off.”

“Your a lifesaver.”

We chatted all the way home. I wanted to spend some time in the driveway, but the light on in the living room told me that was not a good idea. I gave him a quick kiss then scampered off to the front door.

I didn’t realize how drunk I still was until I tried to unlock the front door and I couldn’t get my key in the lock. After three failed attempts, the door opening by itself shocked me. I then noticed Mom standing there in her nightgown with a clear look of disappointment.

“Have a little too much to drink?” Mom asked.

“Nooooo…” I slurred as I entered and tried to take off my shoes. The second attempt got them off my feet and close to the shoe rack.

“I think so. I asked you be home by midnight, but you decided to stroll in drunk at 1:30. Even though your in college, you still need to be home at a reasonable time sometimes. You didn’t even call saying you’d be late.”

“Sorrrrryyyy moooommm.”

“Oh you will be before you go to bed. For breaking curfew AND drinking while underage your going to get a double spanking. Drop those panties and grab the mantel.” Mom said as she picked up the leather strap from the coffee table.

There was a more or less standard punishment for breaking curfew. If you were late returning home you were getting the strap on your bare butt immediately upon your arrival. It always happened in the living room with me bending forward and holding onto the fireplace mantel. The amount was directly related to how late I was, and if I hadn’t been so intoxicated, I’d been able to do the math also and know that a 1.5 hours late meant I’d be getting at least 23 swats; 5 for missing curfew then an addition swat for every 5 minutes.

The double spanking was the worst punishment you could get in my house. Mom had this policy that if you committed two spankable offenses within one day, you had to serve at least 30 minutes of corner time before the second spanking could be delivered. The second spanking was always to be on the bare butt and with the next higher implement (hand -> hairbrush -> strap -> cane). After the second spanking you were effectively grounded to your room until the next day. No TV, cell phone, computer, iPod or anything. You really did not want to leave your room after getting the strap on top of a hairbrush spanking.

“Oh that’s not nessessarrryy.” I said as I tried to act like it wasn’t in trouble. Mom just took hold of my wrist and ushered me over to the mantel.

“It is quite necessary,” Mom said as she placed each of my hands on the mantel. “Do not let go.” Holding onto the mantel help stop the room from moving so much. Subconsciously I knew I was going to be spanked, it would be obvious to anyone sitting in the living room. Well, anyone not drunk, like myself. Mom reached around my waist and unbuttoned my shorts then down went the cutoffs, followed by my bathing suit bottoms until they hung at half-mast.

The sudden rush of cool air on my damp bottom sent chills up my spine. “Heeyyy!” I slured, starting to twist around to look at my mom.

Thuack! “Ahhhh” The first swat with the strap replaced the intoxication with a strip of fire. Mom had placed the good, hard swat right across my sit-spot.

Thuack! “AHHH Owwwee Owwwee” The second swat was placed directly over the first swat, removing any of the lingering effects of intoxication. Mom put next three swats quickly right on top of the first 2, getting a continuous cry out of me.

Mom then lectured me for a few minutes on responsibility and calling and such. I didn’t pay much attention as my rear end held my full attention. I did hear her though say I was to get 18 more swats for being an hour and a half late. It was at that moment that I prayed she spread out the swats.

For the next 6 minutes, Mom brought the strap down methodically across my bare flesh. I could feel her spreading out the swats, so that every inch of my backside was painted red. Top to bottom, left to right. I wiggled back and forth, even dipped my knees a couple of times to try and ease the burn but I luckily never let go of the mantel. I really should’ve paid more attention to the time at the party.

Mom waited for me to hold still after the last swat before sending me to the corner. “Put your hands on your head and get that nose in the corner.” I released my white-knuckle grip on the oak to wipe my nose and the tears blurring my vision. The hobbled walk to the corner was agonizingly slow. In order to keep my bathing suit at by knees, like Mom preferred with panties, I had to twist my hips to step forward, which pulled the skin at the bottom of my cheeks taught.

Mom luckily had pointed at the near empty corner, not the one on the other side of the room with a corner table spanning it. It was about 5 years ago when Mom first used that corner for corner time with my older sister. Katie had turned 18 the week before, and felling all grown-up, had taken Mom’s car shopping without her permission. Mom was taking a nap the whole time Katie was gone, and she’d have gotten away with it had she not brought home pizza for dinner. I’m still not sure what she did after Mom found out she’d taken the car to earn a double punishment, she earned herself 2 sessions with the cane. During Katie’s corner time, she wouldn’t stop fidgeting so Mom moved her to the corner with the table and made her spread her feet the 36 inches to match the tables then lean forward and put her nose in the corner. This pushed out her bottom again for an easy target, and it makes moving about difficult. Anytime Katie moved, Mom would get up, and place one solid swat with the strap across her bottom. Katie only moved once after getting placed in the table corner. I kinda enjoyed seeing Katie get it that day for taking the car, since she’d spent the previous 2 years hanging her driver’s license over my head when ever I wanted to go anywhere.

BEEP BEEP BEEP! The egg timer startled me back to reality and marked the end of my reprisal. The fire below had shifted more to a strong throb, where I could probably measure my pulse from the impulses of pain resonating from down below. I now was up for 6 strokes of the cane. The cane was always a half or full set, with a set being 1/3 of your age. Being only 20, I would be due only 6 stripes. Only 6 stripes, like that was a cake walk or something. I guess it is better than had this incident happened in a month when it’d be upped to 7.

“Ok back to the mantel you go,” Mom said as she exchanged her book for the cane. I made the slow trek back to the mantel and got into position. “I’ve been thinking. You act like you want to be 21, your in trouble because you where drinking like you were already 21, and your birthday is only a month away.” Mom paused and I became confused. Maybe she was going to let me off? “I figure you should be punished as if you were 21 and take 7 strokes with the cane.” SEVEN!

“Moommmm pleaasssee not seveen!” I pleaded from my bent over position.

“I think you can handle. Anyways you believe your big enough to get drunk.”

“Pleasseee!” CRACK! “OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEE!” I cried out as the first stroke of the cane cut into the top of my cheeks. The pain was intense, most likely because of my recent strapping.

Crack! “AAAAAAAHHHHH SNIFFFF OWWWW!” The flood gates opened up and had my eyes been opened, I doubt I’d have seen anything other than a blur. It took all my fortitude to bear the next three strokes. Mom worked them slowly down my cheeks, making my butt look like a blank sheet of music.

Crack! “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAHHHHH aaaaahhhh!” My hands shot instantly back to the bottom of my cheeks. The pain was explosive, with an intensity I didn’t know possible. Mom had just placed the sixth stroke right at the crease between by cheeks and tights, and more importantly, on the spot where I’d taken the first 5 swats with the strap. As I rubbed the spot in an attempt to quell the sting, I could feel a welt start to raise across the impact site.

“Come on, back over and we can get finish this. I’m tired and I imagine you want to go to be bed also,” Mom said as she lightly tapped the cane on the top of my hands. I rubbed for a few more moments, then bent forward and returned to caning position.

Crack! “WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH WWAAAAAAAAHHHHH wwaaa!” My hands shot back to my butt even faster this time. Mom had placed the last stroke on top of the previous one, doubling the effect. I was wailing like a banshee when Mom wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. My hands though were firmly a fixed to my rear end.

“Honey, you know drinking is illegal. If you’d been caught you’d have arrested. That has serious consequences for your future. I don’t want you screwing up your future by some foolhardy action a couple weeks before you can legally do it. I love you too much to allow you to do that.”

“Sorrryy snifff mom. I luuvv yoouuu too.” I cried as I wiped my tears on her nightgown.

“Come on, lets get you up to bed.” Mom ushered me to my room and helped me lay down on my stomach. I didn’t dare put on panties, or the covers the entire night. I ended up having to spend the entire day confined to my room, but I didn’t really mind it. Mom also told me I was lucky that Dad was on a business trip, since he’d made me wait until morning to be spanked, like had happened to Katie once. Getting the strap with a hangover would’ve been hell.