Crying ain’t going to fix anythin

I paced the small dorm room as all the harsh realities pounded my mind. What should I do? Should I take care of it? Should I just drop out? Can I afford not to end it? What if it cute? What are my parents going to say? How could I be so stupid? I want my mommmy!

The mixture of emotions overwhelmed me. I collapsed onto the futon, curlly up into a ball as the tears started to come. My life was over. I was sure of it. There was nothing left to do. All my dreams had been dashed in one stupid move.

I was so absorbed in my own self wallow to notice my roommate enter. I had left the box sitting on the floor and she instantly knew why I was crying. “Girl, you need to relax! It ain’t the end of the world. Just go to the doctors, and they can take care of it.” My roommate said with an attitude which only comes from growing up in the hood. It was crass like a seargent major, and just as practical.

“What!?” I cried back.

“Crying ain’t going to fix anythin'” she replied.

“Sniff, yea…” I conceeded. Crying wasn’t going to fix anything but it sure distracted from the severity of the problem I faced.

“So get your arse up and go take care of it!” she said rather harshly. The tone sounded familar, though I could not place it. I could not recall my roommate ever using it before, but it sounded familar, and suited her general personality.

“I can’t!” I cried back. “I…sniff…I…sniff…told my mom already.”

“And you’re supposed to be the smart one,” she mumbled, turning towards her desk. “I take it she’s on her way?” I just nodded. “Well you should go get cleaned up. Maybe a shower will help you think straight.”

A shower did sound like a good idea. I had woke up late this morning and hadn’t gotten a chance to shower before Stacey stopped by to run to the store. Maybe a shower would help. It couldn’t hurt.

“Com’ on go,” she pushed my feet off the end of the futon. I slowly got up and grabbed my robe, shower caddy and keys then went off to the floor’s bathroom. It was late in the afternoon, and about a half an hour before dinner so the bathroom was empty. I was glad it was empty, since I didn’t really want to talk to anyone at the moment and My eyes had to be extra red and puffy from crying.

I choose a center shower stall and turned on the hot water. I slowly went through the motions of shedding my clothes and handing them on the hook in the changing space. The hot water felt good, even if it didn’t pull the stress away like I hoped. I leaned my right arm aganist the shower wall and buried my eyes in my elbow.

The hundreds of questions came flooding back. How could this happen to me? What was I going to do? Could I do it? Should I do it? The questions were never ending, like the water pelting my back.

Screeech! The shower curtain flung open, revealing my mom standing there in sweatshirt and blue jeans. As would be expected, by first reaction was short, but earsplitting scream, which I am sure did not help her attitude.

“Get out here now!” Mom growled, taking my wrist and pulling me from the shower stall before I could protest.

“MOM!” I cried out, as a mom performed a nice tango twirl with me then sat down on the little bench all in one fluid motion. It would have been impressive, had I been dressed, or someone else was her dance partner. Neither was true and I ended up staring at the tile floor, sprawled across her demin covered knees.

“What the hell were you thinking! You weren’t thinking, were you!” Mom started lecturing. I could think of only one thing, and immedately reached my hands for the floor. My awkward angle allowed my palms just to contact the tile. I pushed off with my fingers when a firm hand pushed my shoulders forward and down.

“Stay there if you know what’s good for you.” Mom commanded.

“Please! MOM!” I knew what was coming and I would have done anything to prevent it from happening right now. “Not here! Please, not here! My room, home, PLEASE!”

Mom simply answered with a resounding crack of my hairbrush. The intensity of the sting of that first spank shocked me. It was like she took a minute worth of spanks and delieved it in one super swat.

The initial shock wore off very quickly as the second swat landed on my other cheek. It’s sting somehow outdid the first swat’s. I immediately let out a cry and tried to reach back with my right hand. Mom answered my cry with another swat, and then another and another and another. Each swat caused a slight break in my continuous wail.

“HAAA!” SWAT! “AHHH!” SWAT! “AHHH!” SWAT! “AHHH!”

All the emotional pain I had experience earlier was nothing compared to the sting my mom imparted upon my bottom. It was absolute horrible and I tried everything possible to stop it. Kicking, squirming, wiggling, reaching back, nothing could stop that evil hairbrush as it did its job.

Every swat drew out a little more of the fight in me until there was nothing left. All I could do was lay there crying and react to the energy of each new blow. I don’t know how many more I got after the fight was gone, but I doubt it was very many because the next thing I realized was standing before her.

Every nerve in my bottom was telling me to try and rub away the sting while my brain commanded my hands not to go it. Rubbing my bottom without mom’s permission might mean another trip over her knee. I instead tried to keep my hands busy by wipping the tears from my eyes and the snot from my nose.

“Put that robe on and lets get you packed. We are going home,” Mom instructed as she stood up.

I put on my robe and then grabbed my clothes. I turned around and took half a step towards the center of the bathroom and froze. Almost every girl on my floor was standing there, looking at me. “Oh My God! They saw everything!” I thought and immediately ran to my room.

One Thrown Pompom

“HILLARY!” echoed Coach Windsor’s voice through the locker room. Every other girl in the locker room looked first at their coach, then straight to the back, where the sophomore cowered near her locker. “GET YOUR ASS UP HERE, NOW!”

A collective gasp spread among the girls as they realized their normally reserved coach had just swore. “Butterscotch” and “Frankfurter” where her favorite replacement words when things went wrong. Freshman always would giggle every time she said such a word, though the squad leaders made sure the giggles never progressed past the first practice.

Hillary’s squad mates forced the anxious cheerleader, rather forcefully towards the front of the locker room, and their coach. She tried to hold her ground, but the cotton socks offered no traction on the tiled floor.

“What was that out there?!” Coach Windsor yelled.

“It…ah…Sorry!”

“Sorry is not going to cut it! Your stunt cost us the game!”

“But it was an accident!”

“Who flicks their risk when shaking their pompoms?” Windsor asked rhetorically. “NO ONE! You did it INTENTIONALLY!”

“No I swear, it was an accident.”

“Don’t even dare lie to me. We all know it was intentional. They may be our rivals, but no girl of mine will act in such a disgraceful manner. Pack your bags, you are off the squad!”

“No! Please! I can’t get kicked off! Anything but that!” Hillary dropped to her knees and with clasped hands pleaded for mercy.

“Oh, get up girl, and quit making a fool of yourself.” Windsor tried pulling her up by her shoulders, but the sophomore was too heavy to pickup without her help.

“Please, you don’t understand! I’ll do anything to stay on the squad. I can not get kicked off!”

In sixteen years of coaching cheerleaders, Coach Windsor had thought she had seen everything. But interfering with a game and then the scene this girl was making in front of the whole squad was new. She was about to reinforce her previous pronouncement when a glisten on Hillary’s face caught her eye. The girl was crying, as was expected, but her eyes were filled with sorrow, not the expected despair of a girl trying to cry her way out of a consequence. A voice inside the coach’s head kept repeating this was different and something was wrong.

“Get in my office now!” Windsor commanded, pointing her left index finger at the office door. In a flash, Hillary was on her feet and inside the small, glassed-wall room.

Windsor closed the door as she entered and immediately started with the questions, “What is going on? Why can’t you be kicked off the team?”

Hillary looked down at her hands where they fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt. She contemplated what to tell her coach. How much of the details to include and whether the coach would believe any of it. Well, the truth is always stranger than fiction.

“I…I’ll have to drop out.” Hillary mumbled.

“What? You are the only one on the squad with an academic scholarship and your on the deans list.” Windsor was puzzled by the obvious lie presented. “Thinking about it, you are probably the only reason the squad isn’t on academic probation. Leaving the team is not going to force you to drop out.”

“But, but, I will have to leave school!”

“Stop lying, being off the squad is hard, but not the end of the world,” Windsor said before turning to open her door so she could escort the girl out.

“I’m not lying. My parents will force me to drop out!” Hillary cried.

Windsor paused with her back to the cheerleader and rubbed her left temple. She could feel a headache already forming and it did not look like she would be able to do anything about it. Facing the glass door, and the dozen pair of eyes focused on her office, Windsor gave the girl one last chance to explain. “Why will your parents force you to drop out?”

“Because they didn’t want me to come here in the first place. They wanted me to go to the small liberal arts college near them, not here. They worry about me being so far away from home. And….and… they only reason they let me come here is because I made the cheerleading squad and the college near them doesn’t even have an athletic department. So if I’m not on the squad I’ll have to drop out.”

Coach Windsor turned to face Hillary. She had heard some really interesting excuses over the years, but this one was a whole different kind of strange. “I really don’t..” The look of utter fear in Hillary’s eyes cut the coach off. “Miss Shah, sit,” the coach said as she went for her own chair behind the desk.

Hillary quickly took a seat and leaned forward, anxiously waiting for her coach’s next words. She hoped they would be involve some alternative to being kicked off the team.

Windsor tapped her nails on the desktop a couple of times as she carefully contemplated her words. “So let me get this correct. You parents only allowed you to come to the university because you earned a spot on the cheerleading squad as a freshman. And now, if you leave the team, they will force you to drop out and go to school back home?”

“Yes, if they allow me to still go to college.” Hillary answered, inadvertently adding the last part. Not being allowed to continue her education was her underlying fear. Saying it made the possibility become real to the girl, bring tears to her eyes.

“Not allow you to go college?” Windsor knew the stereotypes, but she didn’t think they really existed anymore. At least not in America. “Your parents are really that controlling?”

“Yea,” Hillary said as she tried to blink away the water in her eyes.

Windsor considered the implications of allowing Hillary to stay on the team. She would definitely receive flack from Coach Roberts let alone the AD. They both would demand Hillary’s removal; if not her own. She would have to substitute a big, flamboyant punishment for the proposed dismissal, otherwise least they view the sanction as inadequate and force Hillary’s removal. But what should the punishment be?

“So, what do you think is an adequate alternative punishment?”

The girl’s face visibly lighted as the coach’s words sunk in. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t know, but I’ll do anything!”

“That is the problem. All the typical ways you girls are punished would be viewed as way too light for your actions.” Windsor paused to think for a moment, slowly directing her stare upwards at the blank ceiling. The plain tiles of the drop ceiling often offered her a blank canvas where her mind could release its creativity. This time her thoughts only had a second before she was distracted by movement in her periphery. The rest of the squad was still starring at her office. “What if we ask the rest of the squad for suggestions?”

Hillary hesitated for a moment, trying to find a good alternative to her coach’s suggestion. When it accepted she had nothing, she answered, “ah, OK.”

Windsor got up and led the cheerleader out in to the locker room where the rest of the girls gathered around. “Hillary has made a very convincing argument to stay on the squad, and I have reluctantly agreed to allow it. HOWEVER, she does deserve to be punished, and since leaving her on the team may result in consequences for the squad as a whole, I thought it only appropriate for you to determine her punishment. Any suggestions?”

“Laps?” One girl offered.

“Community services?” Came another offer.

“Cleaning the locker room and our stuff?” Someone in the back shouted out.

“Spanking?” Lea offered sarcastically.

“OK.” Hillary chirped up before more suggestions could be offered.

“What? I was just kidding.” Lea said.

“Oh….” Hillary responded, embarrassed at her misunderstanding.

“That would be highly inappropriate,” Windsor added.

“Oh, yea, I guess so,” Hillary said sullenly.

“But it’d be great to see!” came a shout from the back.

“And definitely be a real punishment!” another girl added.

“Why can’t we?” someone shouted.

“Yea!” echoed a chorus of girls.

Windsor could feel her headache returning. She knew all the legal implications really just meant the paperwork would be substantial. Inappropriateness didn’t matter as much as consent, and the lack of coercion. Neither issue seemed to be relevant. Moreover, it could serve the purposes of this unfortunate situation, if Coach Roberts and the AD thought it was sufficient. “But how do I prove to Coach Roberts and the Athletic Director that Hillary has been sufficiently punished for her antic?”

The question quieted the locker room for few moments. The obvious answer was to simply show them the spanking, or at least the evidence of the spanking, however the girls were concerned this might be too much for Hillary or their Coach and kill the prospect of seeing their teammate spanked.

Rachelle looked around at her teammates and could tell this duty fell on her shoulders as squad captain. Being a leader is hard, she thought before stepping forward. “We could show them. Afterwards, you could take her to the basketball team’s locker room and show Coach Roberts him Hillary’s spanked butt.”

Hillary’s blush started showing vividly across her olive skin, though she offered no protest.

The coach looked down at Hillary, then back at the rest of the squad. “This is insane,” she thought. Insane, but it might work. With a shake of her head, she asked, “Hillary, you think it would be fair and appropriate?”

“Ah…hmmm…yea.” Hillary mumbled.

“Are you sure?” Windsor asked. “I do not want you to feel you are being pressured into this.”

“No, its OK,” Hillary mumbled.

“OK. Girls get your showers while I get some paperwork drawn up,” Coach Windsor waved off the squad. Returning to her office, she wondered if this would actually work, and more importantly, when this blew up in her face, if her father would still welcome her at his firm. He never really supported her decision to coach cheerleading instead of coming to work at his firm after school. She was, thought, now thankful he had convinced to keep her license current. It wouldn’t be that bad of a fallback career.

Windsor did a quick online search for some boilerplate language to include in the wavier and found an alarming large amount of samples. She had hoped for an example, not a couple dozen that she quickly found. The multitude of contracts did made creating a reasonably sound waiver quick. She printed off a couple of copies as the last of the girls returned from the showers.

Standing at her office’s threshold, she motioned for Hillary to join her in the office. The sophomore obey.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Windsor asked, holding the wavier in her hands.

Hillary took a deep breath, welling up the little little confidence she had remaining, then still answered with a hesitant “Yes ma’am.”

“OK, then I need you to read and sign these, saying you agree to this punishment, are not being coerced into it and fully understand that it involves corporal punishment and display of your bare bottom.”

Hillary didn’t even both to respond, simply taking the offered pen and signing the documents without reading them. “Foolish kid, not reading a contract,” Windsor thought as she pointed out where a signature or initial was required.

Once the paperwork was completed, the coach led the way back into the locker room. The rest of the squad instantly got silent and huddle around the coach. “OK, so this is how it will work. Hillary is going to bend over the table here and you each will spank her five times. Afterwards I will take her to show Coach Roberts. Understand?”

Rachelle raised her hand, “Coach, may one of us hold her hand during it?”

The question surprised Windsor. She thought the girls might be overly harsh on their teammate, not caring and compassionate. “Yes, that would be nice. Any other questions?” No one reacted. “Good. Now does anyone else have a hairbrush?”

“I do,” said Lea as she fetched a heavy plastic number from her locker. It was the shape of a traditional wooden oval hairbrush, except made of high-density polyethylene with plastic quills.

“That’ll work,” Windsor said, taking the implement from Lea. “Rachelle would you organize your squad?”

Rachelle quickly organized the squad in order of seniority, with the newest squad members at the front of the line. She then took Hillary by the hand, as if she was leading a young child across the street, and lead the sophomore to the aforementioned table. Hillary was gently bent over the table, so her forearms rested on the cold surface. Rachelle made sure she was as comfortable as possible before turning to the coach.

“Is this OK?” Rachelle asked Windsor.

“Hmm,” Windsor paused in her response, trying to think if something was missing, primarily from her liability standpoint. Hillary mistook the hesitation as a sign that she was not prepared correctly, and immediately shed the towel wrapped around her torso. “No.” Windsor finished, before she realized Hillary was naked.

“OK. Ivanka, you are first,” Rachelle announced. Windsor handed over the hairbrush as the freshman moved behind Hillary. Rachelle stood to the side of the table, taking Hillary’s hands in her own. “Are you ready?” she asked Hillary.

“Yea,” Hillary said with a deep breath.

Thuack! Hillary grunted as the hairbrush bashed into her bottom. The process was repeated four more times by the freshman, drawing a grunt each time.

“You are going good,” Rachelle comforted Hillary before nodding to the next cheerleader.

Another 5 swats of the hairbrush bashed into Hillary’s bottom, earning her punisher with 5 grunts. The process repeated over and over, as all of the underclassmen took a turn. By the time the first senior was up, Hillary was really feeling the sting generated by the hard plastic, but had yet to really cry out at any single swat.

Kelsey was the first of the three seniors to take a turn. She was the only squad member to be a dual athlete, also being a member of the varsity tennis team. She spun the hairbrush in her hand, as if it was her tennis racket before taking up a solid forehand stance. She had to suppress a broad grin as she admired the red bottom presented before her.

THUACK! “AAAHEEEEEEEEEEE!” Hillary squealed as the hairbrush ricochet off her the lower right cheek, continuing at an upward arch until parting ways with her flesh near the crown of bottom.

THUACK! “AAAHEEEEEEEEEEE!” Hillary squealed again as Kelsey repeated her first stroke on the left side.

Kelsey repeated the hard swats again for each cheeks, increasing Hillary’s level of distress each time.

THUACK! “GRRRRRAAAAAHHH!” Hillary cried out as hairbrush impacted squarely on the intersection of her legs and bottom. She bounced on the table, trying to wiggle free from Rachelle’s grip, but physics and raw strength were on the senior’s side.

Kelsey had been always been taught to follow through with her swings in tennis and made sure she applied the principle to spanking Hillary. The force of her swat was only partially absorbed by sophomore’s cheeks and slim thighs, allowing the brush to just reach the poor girl’s nether lips.

“Your turn Sam,” Kelsey said handing off the hairbrush, giving the girl a sly grin.

Sam looked over the maroon bottom presented to her, looking for missed areas. She quickly found two perfect targets and took up position to Hillary’s right.

Being the only left handed squad member, she intended to provide an unique experience to the sophomore.

THUACK! “Ahhh Ahhhh Ahhhh Ahhh Please not there!” Hillary yelped in ragged breaths as the sting set into the top of her right thigh. Quickly a dark red oval appeared on the olive skin.

Sam disregarded the pleas, instead providing the other thigh a matching mark. Hillary flexed her quads, trying to dissipate the intense sting.

Sam waited for the girl to settle down before providing two quick reinforcements to her previous swats. Hillary yelped through her tears as the sting was redoubled in her thighs.

Sam waited only long enough for her target to stop swaying before attempting to out do Kelsey’s final swat. Hillary’s reaction to the hard upward swat at the juncture of legs and bottom was slightly muted when compared to the first time, however it was strictly due to exhaustion than a lack of intensity.

Rachelle waited until Hillary settled down before letting go of her wrists. She took the hairbrush from Sam and got in position behind her target before pausing for a moment and leaning over the crying girl. “Are you ever going to pull a stunt like that again?” She whispered in Hillary’s ear. The girl vigorously shook her head while trying to say “no,” through her sobs.

“Good!” Rachelle mumbled to herself as she stood up. She lightly rested her left hand on Hillary’s lower back and pulled back her right arm. As if in an instant, Rachelle delivered four quick swats, one to each of the targets focused on by her fellow seniors. She had to push down hard just above Hillary’s tailbone to keep her in place as prepared to deliver the final stroke exactly as Kelsey and Sam had.

THUACK! “Ahhh Ssaaa Ahhhh Saaa AAhh Ahhh!” Hillary cried out between hiccups and sobs. Rachelle removed her hand, allowing the girl to wiggle about on the table as her hands shot back to comfort her bottom.

“OK girls, Hillary has accepted her punishment. Get changed and get going.” Coach Windsor dismissed the cheerleaders before helping Hillary up. The girl quietly cried on the coach’s shoulder for a few minutes as she regained her senses.

Windsor found it odd that Hillary prompted the trip down the hall, albeit after she had returned her uniform, sans panties. Coach Roberts was furious when Windsor and Hillary entered his office though a few quick words by Windsor made him speechless. Hillary bent partially over and showed her bruising bottom with a flick of her skirt. Then the two women were gone as quickly as they had appeared, though leaving a considerably less angry coach in their aftermath.

“I have got to ask, why did you accept being spanked by the girls? That was brutal. I couldn’t have done it.” Windsor asked Hillary as they slowly made their way back to the women’s locker room.

“Ah, mom will do worse,” Hillary answered, opening the door.

Coach Windsor took the door as Hillary entered the froze as the words hit home. “Will do worse?”

Ivy returns to Walt and his princess

The story begins with Walt and his princess.

Ivy wandered the dormitory aimlessly while she attempted to absorb what she just witnessed. Her mind floated along in the same manner as her feet, first questions if it really was Jessie standing there, then if it was some kind of prank to more intimate questions whose obvious answers sent shivers down her spine. Insignificant of the question, or the implications presented by their possible answers, Ivy’s mind kept flashing back to the portrait of her room.

Like every wandering path, they always lead to an answer. Ivy’s happened to end at the door of her own room. Instinctively she started fishing through her pockets for her keys but on the second go around she realized they were sitting on the dresser, next to the door. In her haste to escape she had forgot her keys. Knocking was her only choice. It was definitely preferable to walking in on something like she did earlier.

Jessie took a quick peek through the peephole before slowly opening the door, hiding herself behind the door. Ivy entered hesitantly, unsure what she would find. Her mind had created some crazy ideas of what she would find, but none of it prepared her for reality. Walt and Jessie were dressed just like they had been previously, except Jessie’s shorts were in their correct location. Perfectly normal.

Everyone looked at each other in silence, waiting for someone to speak first. Walt believed it would be more appropriate for Jessie to start, though she couldn’t form the correct words in her head.

“I’m sorry I burst in before. I didn’t realize.” Ivy apologized suddenly.

“It’s OK.” Jessie mumbled. She flashed a quick glance down at Walt and he got the message loud and clear.

“I’m a little hungry. How would you ladies like a pizza?” Walt said, standing up from his seat on the futon.

“Ah, ok.” Ivy accepted politely. She was much more interested in the prospect of getting some alone time with Jessie than food, but college taught her never to refuse free food.

“Supreme, please?” Jessie asked, looking down and slightly rolling her shoulders in her best “I’m Your Princess” look. Walt gave her half smile, signally she was pushing it, but would get her way.

The last thing Walt heard as he closed the door behind himself was Ivy saying, “You get spanked!?”

Walt contemplating taking his truck across campus to the good local pizza joint, though the thought of finding a parking he could fit into dashed the idea. They would suffer with the chain place at the edge of campus. A block walk wouldn’t be too bad in the chilly Autumn air.

Walt knocked on Jessie and Ivy’s door about 30 minutes later, holding a cool large supreme pizza. Jessie opened the door a moment later, ushering him to the futon. He sat the box down on the small TV tray they had set up and each took a slice. The silence as they ate simply built upon the tense present since Walt had returned.

Ivy finally couldn’t take it any more and dropped her half-ate piece on the box. “I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. It was my fault, not Jessie’s. She shouldn’t have been sp..sp.. punished because of me. I was just lonely. And..and the party seemed like a good chance to meet someone and she didn’t want to go. She really didn’t. I convinced her. Then she didn’t want to drink, but I made her and she wanted to go home but I won’t. She was just being a good friend. It wasn’t her fault.”

Walt sat back and acted like a priest, allowing her to confess all her sins. He knew it would probably be the last saintly thing he did that evening. Jessie had explained everything to Walt while Ivy was wandering the dorm, but he wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth. He wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page because things would turn sour quickly if either of the girls misunderstood his next actions.

“What do you propose?” Walt asked when Ivy stopped for more than a moment.

“Hmm…that I…hmmm…get…the same…” Ivy stammered.

Walt could see her attempt to skirt the issue by avoiding the magic word. “Which would be?”

Ivy played with the hem of her sweater just like Jessie did when she was in trouble. Walt had to take a deep breath to prevent a broad smile from spreading across his lips. He added a little angle to his eyebrows to increase the pressure on Ivy, and reinforce the seriousness of the situation she was attempting to place herself in.

“Ah…spaaannnking.” Ivy finally said, barely holding back the tears she could feel forming at the edges of her eyes.

“And what kind of spanking do you deserve?” Walt asked. Clarity was essential for the punishment to work, but was especially important due to the lack of any relationship between Walt and Ivy.

“Hu?” Ivy didn’t really understand the question.

“Jessie got it bare-bottom with the hairbrush. Do you believe you deserve a spanking exactly like the one Jessie received?”

“Yes…” Ivy eked out.

Walt stood up and gave one last look at Jessie before continuing. His princess stood in nearly the same spot where she had been an hour earlier when Ivy walked in, albeit facing the room rather than the wall. Her left thumb was firmly pressed against her lips as she attempt to avoid chewing on her nails. A quick little nod sent Walt attention back to her roommate.

“OK, bend over your desk with your forearms flat on the desk.”

Ivy kept her head down as she looked sideways at Jessie then back to Walt. She knew she was the perpetuator of this situation and retreating at this point scared her more than continuing.

She sulked over to her desk and bent over as was requested.

Walt scooped up the hairbrush off Jessie’s desk before getting into position behind Ivy. “Jessie got 18, 42 then 25 swats. She knew better than to slack off and since this is your first time, I am going to half the number for you, this time.”

Jessie didn’t miss the sigh of relief from the bent girl. She wished Walt would have let her off that easy. From his previous comments, she was a little worried he might bend her over again once he completed with Ivy.

“Naughty girls don’t get to keep their panties up.” Walt leaned forward slightly, hooking his index fingers under her waistband. After a pause he slowly pulled them down until her yoga pants and panties were at mid thigh. He took a step to his left, presenting the virgin bottom to the room.

“Do not stand up until I tell you, nor attempt to reach back and cover you bottom, understand?”

“Yes sir,” Ivy didn’t know why she added sir, but it seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

“OUCH!” Ivy yelped. The first swat bit hard into her soft flesh, sending ripples flowing out while leaving an angry red oval behind.

“Awwwooocchhhheee!” Ivy wiggled her bottom about as the second swat landed on her other cheek.

“I hope you now understand this isn’t no joke.”

“ahh.. yes sir..AHHHH!” Ivy was interrupted by another swat biting down.

Ivy tried to stay strong, like she had read in all those stories, but reality hurt too much. Tears streamed down her face as Walt reached a dozen. Her emotions flowed with the tears, paying games in her head. She flashed from thankful to resentful to asking herself why she even thought this was a good idea. Resent faded around the second dozen and by the end of the third dozen, she was only thankful. Thankful, sorry and sore.

“I think that is enough for now. You can get up and place yourself against the wall like you saw Jessie earlier.” Walt took a step back from the crying girl and looked at his girl. She still at her thumb at her lips. “Have you been chewing on your nails?”

“No Sire!” Jessie said quickly, removing her hand from in front of her face.

“Good.” He said while stretching out his right shoulder. All that spanking begins to hurt he thought to himself. He chuckled at the joke, even if the girls wouldn’t have agreed it was funny.

Ivy moved to the prescribed spot and Walt returned to his previous seat on the futon, leaving Jessie standing awkwardly in the center of the room. Her bottom had a mild throb and she didn’t want to entice any new fire down here by sitting down, but she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable the longer she just stood there. She thought about laying down on her bed, but she was concerned he might think she was being antisocial and give her tail another workout.

She settled on a half sitting/half leaning against Walt position on the futon as he watched the news.

“Are you going home tonight or staying here?” Jessie asked Walt at the commercial break between news programs.

“I brought an overnight bag in case it got to late. I figure I should run out and grab it,” Walt got up and started towards the door, with Jessie in tow.

“I love you Daddy!” Jessie said quietly when they reached to door, wrapping her arms around him in a big hug.

Walt bent down and kissed Jessie before opening the door. “I almost forgot, your mom called yesterday and said your parents would be arriving on Tuesday next week.”

“Why did she call you?”

“You dad wanted to ask if I could hide your Christmas present so they could fly up at Christmas.”

“You aren’t going to let me peak are you!?” Jessie narrowed her eyes at Walt. Her eyes popped back open when Walt’s hand swatted down onto her backside. “Ouch!”

“Not unless you’d prefer more of that,” Walt smirked.

Jessie twisted her mouth to the side as she contemplated her husband’s offer. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Walt and his princess

Walt tried to focus on road and not the destination. It was especially hard to do this evening because of the stressful cause of this trip. Normally he preferred to make this trip in the daylight, rather than the darkened evening of late autumn. A few light flurries didn’t help circumstances.

The small city appeared suddenly out of the corn fields and patches of woods. It was a quaint town, with a couple dozen small business focused on serving the towns primary employer or the dozens of farmers in the surrounding countryside. It was at this point in the drive that Walt often yearned to sell his house in the larger city and move out here. The thought of at least an hour commute to work every morning always quashed the dream.

Walt made his way down the two lane streets, occasionally turning right or left as needed. Arriving at his destination, he was happily surprised to find an empty angle parking spot. Often he had to drive around the block a few times to find one or try to parallel park the 3/4 ton Silverado. The later would be a torture even the best driving instructor, especially with the popularity of Honda Civic’s in the area.

The burly construction manager overtook the building with the determination of a Caesar conquering Gaul. The night security guard only gave a half-hearted attempt to interrupt his progress. The comfortable confines of his desk and the fact Walt appeared to have 6 inches, 50 pounds and 30 years on the teenager did help persuade him into any real action. Walt didn’t pay his meek questions any notice, entering the stairwell and climbing to the 4th floor, two stairs at a time.

—-

“Daddy!?” Jessie exclaimed with a clear mixture of excitement and trepidation. She was always happy to see him, though worried why he hadn’t called. Her concerns didn’t prevent her from attacking him with a bear hug.

“Hi baby,” Walt replied damply, though joining his offspring in the warm embrace for a moment.

“So why are you here?” she asked, ushering him into her dorm room. She picked up on his sullen attitude as soon as she closed the door. “It isn’t Grandma Winthrop, is it?”

“No, no, Grandma Winthrop is actually doing better. The new medication is really helping.”

“Oh, good,” she relaxed into her desk chair at the good news. “So why are you here?”

“Well, we need to talk.” he said as he unclipped his phone from its holster.

Those four words sent a shiver down the girl’s spine. Walt only ever used that phrase when he needed to have a serious discussion with her, and if grandma was doing better, it probably involved her.

“I found these online yesterday and I wanted to discuss them with you.” He made a few swipes on his phone before passing the device to her.

She already knew the basic premise of the phone’s content, the extend of content was the only question. It only took her a glance to know he had seen everything.

“You care to explain?”

“Daddy…hmmm….hmmm…I can explain…I…” She knew lying would make her predicament worst though saying the truth would probably make things worst also. Nothing was her best bet.

“You skipped class, went out partying when you should have been studying and then failed your exam? That sound about right?” Walt glare bored straight into Jessie’ soul.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, looking down to avoid the look of disappointment wrote across his face.

“You are always sorry that you got caught, I am disappointed that you put yourself in this situation.” He let the words soak in for a few moments as he looked down onto the pig-tails sprouting from her head. He was glad she was too ashamed to look at him, because she could bring him to his knees at will.

“I now, I’m sorry,” her voice faded off with each word.

“You know what this means. Now where is my princess’ hairbrush?”

“DADDY!” Jessie squealed, instantly regaining her composure. “PLEASE NOT HERE!”

“Yes here,” he stated. “your hairbrush?”

“Please!” she tried again, raising her voice slightly while opening her eyes extra wide. He responded with a harder glare, reminding himself he had to be strong. He knew if she really started pouting, she’d melt his heart and he’d just forgive her.

She was doomed and there was nothing she could do now to save herself. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. She swept her eyes down and away from Walt’s glare. “It’s there some other way?” she asked, even as she fetched the wooden hairbrush from atop her dresser.

She stared at the highly polished maple backside for a moment, remembering an incident shortly after she moved into the dorms. Ivy and her had been getting ready to go out when her roommate commented about what a nice hairbrush she had. It hadn’t been her intention to bring it with her to college, rather it was insisted upon her.

“Come on, no more dawdling.” She handed him the instrument of doom, then played with the hem of her college sweatshirt as she waited for more instructions. He hadn’t yet sat down, so she doubted she’d be going over his lap. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing, since going over his lap meant a more embarrassing, thought generally less painful spanking.

“Where is your exam at?” Without thinking, she turned and fished the stapled sheets from a folder on her desk. “I’ll take that. Get out a sheet of paper and something to write with. We are going to go through your exam until you know ever answer.”

She groaned at the revelation, though fetched a blank sheet of paper and a mechanical pencil.

“Bend over your desk,” he commanded. Initially she had her legs quite close to the back of her pushed-in desk chair, though a few taps with the hairbrush on the top of her thighs prompted her to move her feet backwards, until her torso was nearly horizontal. Walt wasted no time preparing his target by dropping Jessie’ shorts and panties.

“What is the formula for the measurement of kinetic energy?” he asked.

“KE equals mass times velocity squared.” she answered with as much confidence allowed by her vulnerable position. CRACK! “Aheee” she cried out when the hairbrush bit into her tender flesh.

“Correct,” he stated. “What is the formula for momentum?”

“ah…force times … ah ….mass?” she answered then tensed up in preparation for another spank. He didn’t disappoint, bringing the makeshift paddle down in five quick blows.

“Wrong. Momentum is mass times velocity.”

Walt continued through her exam, giving her a single swat for correct answers and five for incorrect answers. She passed through the ten multiple choice questions with only 18 swats. It was more than enough to focus her attention on her stinging bottom, thought not quite enough to draw out more than the occasional tear.

The short answer questions were her downfall, on both the exam and her current resolve. She only answered two of the ten correctly, and paid for it. The sting of the little paddle quickly overtook her, reducing her to a teary mess. Jessie could barely see the sheet of paper in front of her when they reached the calculation problems.

She didn’t even try on the five calculation problems, simply surrendering to the fact she would take another 25 swats and hopefully it would be over. When Walt noticed her giving up, it actually became easier for him to spank her. Until this point, every tear she shed drove a spike into his heart, but when she gave up, it reinvigorated his annoyance with her. Her lack of determination was a constant conflict between them, often ending with her in a similar position.

Walt removed his hand from her lower back and she instantly bolted upright. She danced in a circle, clutching her flaming bottom. He scratched his eyebrow, avoiding watching her obscene gesture while he gave her a few moments to regain her senses. “Why don’t you go stand over there for a while,” he said pointing to the only clear section of wall in the dorm room.

Whipping tears from her eyes, Jessie obeyed him with tiny steps. She knew what was expected and crossing her arms behind her while holding up the back of her sweatshirt. Her glowing bottom would be on display for some unknown length of time and she just hoped it ended before Ivy returned. What would Ivy say, she asked herself. Any response would be mortifying.

Walt took a seat on the futon and flipped on the News. He would have preferred to read the paper or anything quietly, though in his haste he had forgot to grab it. The News would have to do, even if it gave Jessie a sense of time. An hour of reflection though would do her well.

Forty minutes into Jessie’s vigil, Ivy decided to crash the party, sweeping into the room before Walt or Jessie could react.

“Hello,” Ivy said, tossing her book-bag onto the futon next to Walt. “Jessie, you didn’t say….”

“YEEKS!” Jessie screeched, at the intrusion. She instinctively turned to her right, away from Ivy and Walt, while shielding her front by pulling he sweatshirt down. The action had the undesirable effect of highlighting what had only been slightly noticeable under the back of the over-sized shirt.

“Uhmmm Uhmmm, sorry,” Ivy grabbed her book-bag and almost ran out the door.

To be Continued…

Bonus points for anyone who figures out what happens in part II. 🙂

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.

I Feel You

The series about starting and marketing and adult blog is still way too rough, so here is a little diversion instead.

“I Feel You”

Roll on the bed, me and my man
His little plan to get me over you
Panties hookin’ on down, yeah
Spankin’ my bottom a thousand ways
There’s just one thing

[Chorus:]
I can’t go anywhere, I can’t do anything
No, I can’t close my eyes without you in my dreams
You won’t leave me alone, even though I know you’re gone
I get it with something new, but I feel you
Swatting like you were a hand
Takin’ me to the edge
Hey girl, come dance for me
You provided the melody in my head

On the bed of my room
By the light of the midnight moon
Baby, I feel you
You always knew what to do, and did it good
You never left me wanting to do it again
Others made me cry, make a fuss and beg for mercy
But there’s just one thing wrong

I can’t go anywhere, I can’t do anything
No, I can’t close my eyes without you in my dreams
You won’t leave me alone, even though I know you’re gone
I get it with something new, but I feel you
Swatting like you were a hand
Takin’ me to the edge
Hey girl, come dance for me
You provided the melody in my head

Your weight, your hardness
Brushy, since you broke over my behind

I can’t go anywhere, I can’t do anything
No, I can’t close my eyes without you in my dreams
You won’t leave me alone, even though I know you’re gone
I get it with something new, but I feel you
Swatting like you were a hand
Takin’ me to the edge
Hey girl, come dance for me
You provided the melody in my head

Brushy, I feel you
Brushy, I feel you

A melody a girl never sang about her favorite hairbrush.

Willow Groove – Grace Shue Reminisces with Sigma Alumni

Grace Lee’s Home

“Is Earl Grey fine?”

“Yes, Thank you.” Gretchen Shue accepted the saucer and tea cup.

“So tell me, how is he transition going? It was so great to hear Aunt Martha left you the house. We all knew it would get back to Willow Groove.” Grace said, talking an oreo from the plate on the coffee table.

“Brooklyn was growing old. Adam was offered a nice retirement package from the city and I had enough time to retire also, so

“Amber getting into Myra probably didn’t help.”

“Oh yea, she was skeptical at first. Yale and Stanford where her top 2 choices, but the full ride really us convince her to go to Myra for undergrad instead.”

Cling cling went the door chimes signifying the arrival of the Grace’s two guests. “That must be Marie and Julia,” Grace said getting up to greet her new guests.

“Sorry we’re late. Melissa had to have a discussion with my hairbrush before I left,” Julia stated taking off her coat. “I don’t know what gets into that girl sometimes. It is like tomorrow is the first day of kindergarten, not her sophomore year of college.”

“Well hopefully the hot heine will temper her behavior,” Grace replied, taking the platter from Marie. “Julia, Marie, this is Grace, Grace this is Julia and Marie,” Grace introduced before slipping off to the kitchen.

“Nice to meet you,” Marie offered her hand, which Gretchen stood to shake.

“You as well,” Gretchen replied.

Julia and Marie both took seats across from Gretchen and the sofa she was sharing with Grace.

“Wow, 20 minutes late. I didn’t think I took that long,” Julia said, noticing the time on the grandfather clock in the corner.

“So, you still spank your daughter?” Gretchen asked.

“Of course I do. And I will until she’s married,” Julia replied. “Didn’t you grow up here?”

“Yea, I just thought that tradition would have ended long ago,” Gretchen said.

“Ended?” Julia laughed. “I can’t think of any tradition ending in Willow Groove, yest of all one involving punishments. Why break something that works?”

“I guess so,” Gretchen conceded.

“Didn’t your mother spank you until you got married?” Marie asked, nibbling on an Oreo.

“Yea, I hated those evil chopsticks.”

“And it must’ve worked,” Julia mentioned. “Thought I bet it wasn’t as bad as the cane.”

“I don’t know about the cane, but the chopsticks were awful things. Much worst that the paddle in school.”

“Yea, pledge week though was no walk in the park.” Marie said.

“Which sorority were you in?” Gretchen asked.

“Sigma Epsilon Chi!” Marie stated proudly.

“Oh, me too, what year? I pledged in ’74” Gretchen said.

“Way before my time. I pledged in ’93” Marie said.

“Yea, you youngin’s,” Gretchen smirked. “Julia, were you a sister also?”

“Yea,” Julia answered. She was quite taken back at the question. “I was a year ahead of you.”

“You were?” Gretchen was puzzled for a moment. “Wait, is your maiden name Mason?”

“Yup!” Julia answered.

“Wow, I didn’t recognize you. You were chubby and dorky in college, now freaking gorgeous.” Gretchen gasped, covered her mouth in embarrassment.

“Yea, a year after Alberto and I married, I grew another another inch in all the important areas and lost a couple in the less important ones.”

“She what you would call a late bloomer,” Marie mocked.

“Alberto’s surely a lucky man.”

Grace returned with another platter of fresh vegetables. “Something a little healthier. So what did Melissa do?” Grace asked Julia.

“It was just bratty attitude stuff, nothing real big. I probably shouldn’t have let it get this far but it did. We hadn’t had a discussion since the fourth.”

“Of July?” Grace questioned.

“Yea, amazing.”

“Lucky for you, the twins have gotten two since the fourth. One was a real dozy,” Grace said.

“What did they do?” Marie inquired.

“John caught them up at the river skinny dipping.”

“John caught them skinny dipping! Wow!” Marie exclaimed.

“Yea, we both lit into them. There’s nothing like a willow switch to get your point across.”

“Lasted them until this past weekend when they got into an argument over some shirt.”

“Ah girls will be girls. It isn’t like we never did anything like that growing up.” Julia said.

“Remember the sorority backpacking trip my junior year, when we ‘accidentally’ ran into the boys?” Gretchen asked Julia.

“I’ve never forgotten. I’m so glad we didn’t caught. If my mother knew of half the stuff I did that weekend, I wouldn’t have been able to sit for a year.”

“Me neither. You know Lucy Caufield got caught. Her mom found a pair of men’s briefs in her laundry,” Grace said.

“She did? That’s what she gets for winning at strip poker,” Julia laughed. “It also explains why she disappeared for a couple of hours every Saturday morning during the following semester.”

“Yea, I heard she spilled everything she did to her Mom and as punishment got the belt once a week until everything was amended for.”

“Ouch! I didn’t think we did that many naught things that weekend,”

“Drinking, strip poker, truth or dare, skinny dipping, blow jobs, sex,” Grace counted off.

“Wow, mine would’ve flipped out too,” Marie gasped.

“You forgot the pine cone races,” Julia said, smiling.

“Aaghhh, I don’t know how you all got me to agree to that one,” Gretchen squirmed a little.

“Tequila!” Julia pronounced.

“What are pine cone races?” Marie asked hesitantly.

“You don’t want to know,” Gretchen answered quickly.

“It’s a relay like race. The guys run this obstacle course then fuck their girlfriend until they cum, slip a pine cone into her ass then she repeats the course without letting the pine cone come out.” Julia explained, much to Gretchen’s embarrassment.

“Ouch!” Marie said, covering her mouth in disbelief.

“Yea…we were dumb kids,” Gretchen sucked gently on her left cheek.

“That’s for sure,” Marie nervously laughed.

“Oh come on, you didn’t do anything wild and crazy in college?” Grace chided the younger women.

“No,” Marie answered meekly. The blush gathering in her cheeks gave away the lie.

“Sure you didn’t,” Julia grinned.

“Noting really,” Marie denied even as she felt her cheeks grow hot.

“Come on, tell us!” Julia eagerly pestered her friend.

“It couldn’t be worst that what we did,” Gretchen added her support of Julia.

“Kind of. Between my junior and senior year we bet the Nu Rho Delta girls we could get more pledge signups than them and we lost,” Marie related.

“The Nu’s got more pledge signups than you? They are still the nerds right?” Gretchen asked.

“Yea,” Marie conceded.

“So what was the bet?” Grace asked.

“Hell week. All the Sigma officers spent orientation week under the same conditions as their pledges spend hell week,” Marie said.

“So, I don’t remember hell week being that bad when I pledged,” Gretchen asked. “What? Bad food and a little paddling?”

“Nu girls are screwed up though. They basically lock their pledges in diapers for the week and spank them if they wet the diaper.” Marie explained.

“Your kidding,” Grace said.

“Unfortunately no,” Marie admitted, to the chucking of the other ladies. “I think all five of us officers got spanked every day that week. The worst part was asking to be changed, especially when you knew it was wet.”

“Why didn’t you take it off when you were at the house?” Julia asked.

“They used these little luggage locks with a short metal chain around our waists. Tracey, one of the VPs tried to get out the first day and they found out. She squealed like a pig when they used that hairbrush on her. Then they didn’t powder her when the diaper was replaced. She complained about diaper rash for two weeks.”

“Yikes, I remember how much trouble Melissa was that one time she had diaper rash,” Julia commented.

“I could imagine. Amber got it the first time I left her with her father unsupervised. Not a fun baby.” Gretchen mentioned.

“Well we should probably get started on planning the alumni dinner,” Grace refocused the group on the reason they were meeting.