Texting cometh before the spanking

“So Mom, did you guys win!” Becky asked her parents immediately upon their arrival home from court.

“Yes dear. The company is going to cover your father’s medical costs and we were awarded a hundred thousand for his lost wages.”

“YES! YES! YES! The bastards deserve to pay!” the girl cheered as she preformed a little dance around the living room.

“Becky, you can’t tell anyone about it though. There’s a confidentiality agreement preventing us from saying anything,” her father said as he moved slowly towards the couch. The non-opiate pain killers he was taking since the last surgery made him drowsy most of the time. The doctor had told him these pain killers were better than the hydrocodeine derived pills, since they were not as physically addictive.

“Oh, I won’t Daddy,” Becky said, before taking off upstairs to her room.

“UR rents are paying? OMG!” Cindy messaged Becky.

“Ya, dad won suit against his old job and now they R rich,” Becky messaged.

“U lucky biatch!” Cindy responded. “How much?”

“like 100k” Becky messaged.

“Damn.”

“Yea, McGarretts paying for Europe!”

“EV1 will be jealous!!!!” Cindy messaged.

Becky smiled at the message. Cindy was one of the two friends could scrape together enough money to make the summer trip across Europe. All the rest of her friends at college had to work all summer, just to be able to pay for food and books during their term. The news that she was basically vacationing in Europe on someone else’s money would kill them, especially her rival, Tricia. She just had to make sure everyone knew.

She made a few flicks of her finger across the iPhone screen then typed “Rent’s won case so now going to Europe on McGarrett’s dime! HA!” into the status message box and hit post. Instantly, her 1,427 followers received the tweet.

“You Biatch! I saw UR tweet!” Cindy messaged a couple of moments later.

“Good! Hope Tricia sees it 2!” Becky responded.

“Shes goin die!”

—-

Becky ran down the stairs at the sound of the doorbell. Her new hiking boots were supposed to be arriving from Amazon today and couldn’t wait to try them on. Opening the door she say the oddest looking delivery man ever. The man standing on the porch was in his mid-thirties and wore a sports jacket over jeans instead of the typical uniform.

“Is this the residence of Christopher Jones?” the man at the door asked.

“Yea, why?” Becky responded with a bit of lip, annoyed he wasn’t there to deliver her boots.

“May I speak with him,” the man said politely. “I have a deliver for Mr. Jones.”

“I’m Chris Jones,” Becky’s father said, coming up behind her. “What is this about?”

The man pulled out thick white envelope and handed it to her father before saying, “you have been served.” The man then turned and walked down the sidewalk to his car.

“What’s that?” Becky asked her father.

Chris tore open the envelope while balancing on his crutches. He quickly scanned the top page of the enclosed papers. “Ah, I am being sued for breach of contract by McGarrett Industries,” he said rather puzzled. He hadn’t had any contact with his former employer since the lawsuit ended 8 months ago. How could he have breached some contract when he didn’t work for them any longer?

—-

“… Mr. Jones, that does not negate the fact that you disclosed the terms of the settlement to a third-party.”

“But Becky is my daughter and it wasn’t intentional!” Chris pleaded with the well dress attorney across the table from him.

James Fastner gently waved his hand in the direction of his senior corporate counsel, silencing the response from the older man to his left. “Mr. Jones, other than the money you intended on spending on your daughter’s study abroad trip, do you have any of the settlement left?”

“Just a little bit. We used most of it to pay off debt and our house so that we could get by on my wife’s salary.” Chris conceded. It wasn’t probably a smart negotiating tactic, though coming to McGarrett without a lawyer wasn’t smart either.

“And did you feel the original settlement was fair?”

“Yes, it was very generous sir.” Chris answered.

“And do you agree that your daughter broke the terms of the settlement and therefore she should be punished?” Mr Fastner asked.

“Ah,” Chris stumbled with the answer. They had clear-cut proof of his daughter breaking the confidentiality agreement, though the CEO’s tone was laced with empathy. “yes sir.”

“Fine. I will withdrawal the suit if your daughter is punished adequately for her utter lack of respect and complete disregard for rules.”

“Oh, thank you sir!” Chris said.

“Thank you,” Becky’s mother added, reaching for Mr. Fastner’s hand.

“She is definitely not going to Europe, and she’ll work here all summer as unpaid intern, and” Chris started making promises on behalf of his daughter who was still more interested in her phone than the conversation occurring in front of her.

“Ah, no that will not be necessary. We are a manufacturing company and I doubt your daughter has even basic skills that could be put to use here. No, she should still study abroad. That is an education unlike anything you can receive in the states. I think your daughter needs a more old fashioned lesson. Something that will break through her self-entitled brat persona.”

“What, she is not” Becky’s mom started to protest, though Mr. Fastner simply nodded towards the girl on her mother’s left.

“When was the last time you lighted a fire in her behind?” Mr. Fastner asked.

“We push our daughter to excel in her classes all the time.” Mrs. Jones answered.

“No, I do not push her,” James paused to make sure he had their full attention. “I mean spank her.”

“WHAT!” Mrs Jones cried out indignation. Becky’s mother started to stand up as stammered, “I…we…HOW DARE YOU!” She felt she had to say something, but she just could not come up with the words.

Chris looked down towards the table while lightly rubbing above his brow.

“Honey, sit down.” The tone of Chris’ voice surprised his wife into obedience more than anything else.

“Mr. Fastner, what do you believe would be an adequate punishment for Becky’s actions?”

“If she was my daughter, I’d have taken a strap to her bottom and made sure she understood the gravity of the situation.”

Chris thought back to his childhood and the few trips he’d taken with his father out to the woodshed. Back then was a different time, but the lessons still resonated with him today. Doing such to his own princess would kill him, but it was probably for the best. They certainty could not repay the money and maybe she would learn something. “Fair enough, I will do it this evening.”

“Mr. Jones, I believe you are an honorable man, and will attempt to follow through with your word. I, however, do not have such faith in your wife and daughter that such punishment will be completed.” James glanced at his watch to verify the timing of the events running through his head. “After we get done here, you and your wife will take your daughter home and do what ever you fell appropriate. At 7:00 pm this evening I will come by and witness you spanking of her. Does that sound reasonable?”

Chris let out a long sigh before saying “Yes.”

“Do you have an old belt or some other piece of leather which work as a strap?”

“Yes, I have something in mind.”

“Good, then I hope our problem will be resolved this evening.” James stood up and walked out of the conference room without saying another word. Mr and Mrs Jones stole a tepid look at each other as their daughter continued playing with her phone, completely unaware of the deal her parents had just struck.

Becky paced her room as the anxiety overwhelmed her. Her mind was a mess of the questions, anxiety and outright fears. She thought about the ridiculousness of the whole situation and how stupid she was by blabbing to Cindy about the settlement. Cindy had the biggest mouth of all her friends, and she knew telling her would quickly lap her entire circle. And it had been great to see the look on Tricia’s face the next day. Her frenemy hadn’t been able to look at her since then. It had been awesome.

But was it worth it? Would getting spanked be worth making Tricia insane with jealously?

“Daddy won’t let that evil man hurt me,” Becky told herself as she looked in the mirror. She practice making puppy-dog eyes and acting as innocent as possible.

—-

Mr. Fastner stood at the door holding a black leather attache case. He could feel his nerves start to get to him as he waited. The tension had been building since the Jones had left his office this afternoon. Numerous times he had to remind himself this was the right thing to do, even if not most legal option to the situation. The naive girl would learn a valuable lesson and that is more important than the money he had told his general counsel, president and himself.

Chris opened the door and ushered Mr. Fastner inside. James felt a current of electricity flowing through the small living room. It took him back two decades, when he was in his first managerial position, walking into the small dank conference room where two well seasoned  line workers sat waiting for him. It was the first time he had ever fired an employee, and probably one of the hardest tasks he had ever done in business. Both men had more years at the company than he had had on earth, but it didn’t change the fact they were caught clocking out for one another and the company had cut staff by 10 percent or risk bankruptcy. Looking back, Mr. Fastner found the situation ironic, since two years later he lead the effort to put the same company into Chapter 11 and now used it as the cornerstone of his small empire.

Mr. Fastner placed his brief case on his lap and flicked the latches allowing the top to spring open. He looked inside, glanced up at the three Jones’ sitting on the couch then back into the case. Reaching under the top folder, he withdrew the second folder of legal documents. “He are the terms by which the lawsuit will be dropped against you for breach of contract.” He handed the folder across the coffee table to Chris and paused to give the father a moment to start reading the cover page. “In there, it explains that Becky has been punished for breaking the confidentiality agreement and that she will put any funds that she gets because of the settlement to good use in making her a good and productive member of society. Please read through it and there is a spot for all three of you to initial at the bottom of each page and to sign at the end.”

James sat back as watched Chris read through the first page before handing it to his wife. The entire agreement was a mere six pages, unusually short for one of his contracts. His attorney did not think any such agreement would hold up in court, so the length was merely to impart some fear into the Jones than actually create a legally binding agreement.

“Now, Mr. Jones, the settlement was 88 thousand, correct?” James asked once Chris passed the last page to his wife.

“Yes, sir. Well plus the medical costs.” Chris answered.

“OK, then it seems only fair she receives 88 swats with the belt. One swat per thousand dollars,” James said with a deadpan expression. He had given Becky’s punishment some thought after the Jones had left this afternoon, and believed he had come up with a fair punishment which would make a strong impact on the self-entitled girl. A skilled negotiator, this opening request was intended to create a particular reaction from each member of the Jones family.

“WHAT!” Becky cried out. “88! That is totally unfair!” She stomped her foot like a naughty kid. “I won’t do it!” Becky crossed her arms as she shook her head, tossing her dirty blonde pony tail back and forth.

“OK, then I will have to withdrawal the offer of dropping the lawsuit.”

“Please, Mr. Fastner, 88 is a lot. Please, how about 20 instead.” Mrs. Jones interjected.

“20 swats across her jeans is whole inadequate for the seriousness of her actions,” Mr Fastner countered.

“Ah, what about 20 across her panties?” Mrs. Jones said.

“50 across her panties.”

“20 and on my bare bottom” Becky countered. This was exactly want James was looking for, consent by Becky to her punishment.

“22 on your bare bottom will be adequate.”

“Deal!” Becky said holding out her hand like she had just won a heated negotiation.

Mr. Fastner smirked slightly when he saw the prideful smile spread across Becky’s face. “Girl, don’t you know that pride cometh before the fall,” he said in his head as he extended his hand to accept the “deal.”

Once James and Becky shook hands, and awkward silence filled the room. Everyone knew what was next, through no one wanted to say anything. James wanted one of Becky’s parents to take charge of the situation while the Jones were not quite sure how Mr. Fastner wanted to main event to proceed.

James started to slowly open his mouth when Mrs. Jones blurted out, “Becky why don’t you go over the back of the couch?”

“Yes, yes,” Chris responded rather awkwardly and he stood up. All three Jones scurried to take their positions for the next stage. Becky moved behind the couch and knelt slightly as she undid the button on her jeans. Keeping low and facing the back of the couch, she lowered her jeans and panties together to mid-thigh, then slowly curled over the back of the couch until she was fully inverted.

Mr. Fastner stayed seated in his chair opposite the couch as he watched the amusing show. Becky clearly did not want to show anything more than necessary while Mr. Jones did not want to see his daughter either. James predicted everyone would see more of Becky than she desired before the evening was over.

Chris pulled the doubled over belt back, over his shoulder and brought it soundly down onto his daughter’s bottom. He had tried to make it look like it was hard, but place only a mild level of force behind the swat. He didn’t really want to hurt her, but felt obliged to carry out his duty, especially since Mr. Fastner was watching.

CRACK! “AAHHH!” Becky screeched as the whipped across her bottom. She wiggled her hips about while trying to reach her hands back to protect her bottom.

“Becky, now,” Chris reprimanded his daughter quietly, believing her reaction was more acting than legitimate distress.

CRACK! “AAHHH!” Becky screamed as her hands once again shot to console her bottom.

A mixture of annoyance and embarrassment built within Mr. Jones. First she had shot off her mouth about the settlement, then she had been completely disrespectful to Mr. Fastner, now she was refusing to own up to her mistakes and take the punishment like an adult. He pulled her left wrist upwards, into the small of back and whipped the belt down into it’s target.

CRACK! “AAHHH!” Becky screeched again. Her father didn’t allow her much time to react, instead repeat the hard swat again and again.

The sudden ferocity broke Becky’s comprehension of the situation. She still felt the pain building in her bottom with each successive blow, through she no longer felt the need to fight it. Around halfway, her lungs gave out and she could no longer even vocally protest. Each new swat was simply punctuated her sobs with a grunt. The whole situation overcame her quickly after that, freeing her mind from her body and letting it drift through oblivion.

Becky didn’t consciously recognized the end of the spanking, or her mother helping her up. The first real event to break was her mother’s voice yelling her name as she danced around half-naked, rubbing her bottom. When reality came crashing back, all she could do was shriek in embarrassment, pull her jeans and panties up towards her hips and take off for her room.

Becky immediately dropped her jeans and panties once the door was locked. Arching her head over her shoulder she admired the damage to her bottom. Even through the tear hazed eyes, she make out angry red bands crisscrossing her formerly snow white skin. Becky could only think of one thing, she NEVER wanted that to happen again. And it definitely wasn’t worth making Tricia jealous. Her jeans and panties remained at the door as she collapsed into bed to cry.

Mr. Fastner and the Jones spoke briefly after Becky left. Once James had left, the Jones stayed in the living room and talked over the new offer Mr. Fastner had made. It was mighty tempting, through they were concerned whether Becky would agree to the terms. They were severe, through probably not unwarranted. They agreed to wait, and see the effect this experience had on their daughter before even bringing up the idea to her.

Crying ain’t going to fix anythin – Conclusion

This is the conclusion to Crying ain’t going to fix anythin. This part of the story contains a scene which some may find slightly disgusting. The essence of this entire story, including the slightly disgusting part was related to me by a friend after we had a couple too many shots of rum. If you read the first part, you probably guess what is coming. I just wanted to forewarn my readers.

I never knew I could blush as much as I did leaving my dorm room. Couldn’t bare to look anyone in the face, instead focusing on back of mom’s shoes as we traversed the path to the car. I could feel whispers behind my back as we passed my floor mates. “Look at the naughty girl,” “Ah, the little girl got a spankin'”, and similar phrases filled my ears. I was too embarrassed to look up and see if anyone was actually saying anything.

Mom had been luck and found a parking spot in the visitor’s section in front of the dorm.

“Owe” I winced when my tender backside pressed against the leather seat. The stingy sensation was being reignited by the hot leather. I pressed my arms straight down, lifting myself slightly off the seat to provide some relief to the sting.

“Seat belt!?” Mom asked in her rhetorical, why haven’t you done something, kind of manner.

I glanced to my right, only to realize there would be no way to buckle the seat belt without removing one of my hands. I tried to tilt to my right and use my left hand pull the seat belt across my body, my clumsiness assisted me in leaning too far right and falling against the door. I ended up landing squarely on my smarting bottom. With an “Ouch!” I pulled the seat belt across my body and immediately tried to propel myself off my bottom again.

“Enough of that!” Mom scolded, slapping away my hands from getting between my bottom and the seat.

“Grrr” I growled under my breath. I am so glad Mom didn’t hear me, or at least didn’t care, because if she had, I’m sure I would have taken another trip over her lap.

The ride home seemed to take forever, yet was over in an instant, all at the same time. The first half I spent trying to relieve some of the smarting in my bottom, which never really occurred. During the second half my mind started wandering. I thought about what Dad would say, then my friends. My friends would probably be supportive. My Grandma Rosselin though would be so disappointed. I was her first grandchild to go to college, and now I had screwed that up royally. Well, Dad and Grandpa had both went to college, but that was West Point, and she was so happy that I got into a non-military college.

We were about a block from home when mom pulled off the road into the corner drug store. I didn’t even realize we had stopped until mom broke me from my thoughts. “You can stay here. I’ll only be a minute,” she said getting out.

I had been to this particular drug store a thousand times, but this time it seemed different. Foreign almost. I had been at school for three months, but sitting in the car, watching the people go in and out of the store. The kids seemed younger, the adults didn’t seem so old and even though my hometown is quite small, I didn’t recognize a single person. Had everything changed suddenly, or was it just that I had started to change?

Mom returned a few minutes later, a white plastic bag poking out of her purse. I knew what was in the bag, but I didn’t have the courage to ask.

Upon arriving at home, Mom sent me to my room. I hadn’t been sent to my room in a decade, though there has been many times when I have willingly went to my room to avoid getting in further trouble. I felt soo juvenile being sent to my room without supper like a naughty little kid. The saving grace was having some time alone. Mom had said that Dad wouldn’t be back from training exercises until morning, so I had a little bit of a reprieve.

Collapsing onto my bed, for some reason I thought back to British history class on Thursday when the professor was discussion Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. I wondered if she felt like I did the night before her execution. I dreaded tomorrow’s events, though I accepted the fact I could not change my future now.

I thought getting spanked in front of my floor-mates was embarrassing, but it couldn’t compare to my morning. Mom woke me early in the morning and dragged me to the bathroom. I was still picking the eye crusties from crying myself to sleep when she instructed me to sit on the toilet with my legs spread.

“What!” I asked. I know how to use the bathroom and have been doing it for years without supervision.

“Sit and spread your legs wide, now!” Mom commanded. Instinct, and probably a healthy dose of fear, caused me to follow her instructions without any further protest. I sat down on the toilet and was reminded of yesterday’s bathroom experience.

“Com’on, get your panties down,” Mom seemed annoyed. I had through I was following instructions, but stood up a little to tug my panties down from beneath my night shirt down to my ankles. I completed the slightly awkward task while keeping my nightshirt low around my waist. “Pull that up,” Mom said, waving a white stick at my shirt.

I gave a little pout, which Mom did not like. She simply grabbed the hem of my shirt with her free hand and yanked it up to my neck then thrust the white stick below my crotch. I now recognized it was a pregnancy test. “Mom, I can do it.” I tried to protest, reaching for her lower hand.

“Now stop it! Just pee slowly, I want to make sure you did it correctly!” Mom reprimanded.

I am sure I turned every shade of red imaginable, but I couldn’t bring myself to relieve myself while my mom watched. Using the bathroom was an utter private event. She might have saw me naked hundreds of times, but doing that was beyond embarrassing. My bladder may have been full, but this was too much.

“Com’on pee, or do you need a reminder?” Mom asked.

I think the mention of a “reminder” with the hairbrush scared me more than anything, because I started peeing within a moment. I covered my face as the urine kept coming and coming. I was slightly concerned my cheeks were going to catch on fire.

At some point I finished and Mom withdrew the test. I didn’t uncover my face until she said something. “Did you take a pregnancy test earlier?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, lowering my hands.

“And did it show two lines like this?” Mom asked, holding the test in front of my face. I could smell the acidic stench of urine as it neared my face. There was one line in the left circle and one line the in right circle, just like the test I had taken.

“Yes, two lines, I told you I’m pregnant,” I muttered, looking away.

“That’s ONE line, the line in the right circle means it worked! Didn’t you read the instructions?” Mom asked.

“Yea….hmmm…kinda. It said 2 lines was pregnant,” I protested.

“Two lines in the RESULTS CIRCLE!” Mom said with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Well, get yourself cleaned up. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes. I already told your father last night, and he said he would be home by 9 this morning. I’ll let you give him the good news.” Mom left be sitting on the toilet.

I was relieved at my mistake, though the discussion with Dad scared the hell out of me. I always felt so protected and special when he was around, expect when I was in trouble. He has this amazing ability to turn on and off his inner Colonel. Growing up I had seen him treat me like a princess one moment then turn around and ripe into a Private or 2nd Lieutenant and immediately treating me like a princess. Though when I was naughty, he would turn on his inner Colonel until after my sentence was executed. Then I was back to being his little princess, no matter how old I was.

There are three words that can shake anyone to their core, especially when said in a stern voice by their parent. When dad slowly, started his lecture with my full name, I knew I was doomed. He was going to tan my hide and tan it well. I might as well just get up, drop my PJs and panties and bend over the desk. It would save him the breath of the lecture. Even though I knew it was inevitable, I couldn’t bare to actually move.

“…well, do you have anything to say for yourself?” Dad ended all his lectures with that statement.

It was now my turn to confess all I thought he knew and beg for mercy. He already knew everything so all I really could do was beg for mercy. Something deep down inside me said I didn’t deserve his mercy though. I had screwed up royally and deserved anything and everything he thought appropriate. So with a little hesitation I replied, “No sir.”

There was a long pause before he began again. “Being an adult has new responsibilities, including setting one’s own expectations and consequences.” He said.

This was new, I thought. I looked up from playing with my fingernails to find Dad seated in the other chair, leaning towards me as he spoke. I couldn’t remember him ever sitting down during one of my lectures. Well, I could never remember us both sitting down during one of this lectures.

“Is getting pregnant before being married one of your expectations for yourself?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“And what is an appropriate consequence for getting yourself into a situation where that expectation could not be meet?”

I knew the answer I wanted to say and it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. I didn’t want to risk making him any more mad at me and went with the answer he wanted. “A spanking, sir.”

“And so have you been appropriately punished for your actions?” he asked.

There was something different in his voice this time. It was as if he was sincerely asking for my thoughts rather than going through an exercise. I bit my lower lip for a moment while I contemplating risking the affirmative response.

“Hu sweetie?” Dad urged gently.

He only ever referred to me as sweetie when he was trying to be comforting, not angry. This gave me enough hope to risk the affirmative response. “Yes sir.” I answered meekly.

“Are you sure? The spanking your mother gave you was adequate for the promiscuity, the unprotected sex, the inattention to details when reading the test?” Dad added.

Even the comforting, sincere tone couldn’t convince me to lie. I still felt guilty for the whole episode and if I had truly been punished adequately, I wouldn’t feel guilty, would I? The guilt felt horrible, not as bad as a spanking, but bed enough. And when would it go away? Even though saying no would mean another trip over the knee, it hopefully would get rid of this guilty feeling. “No sir,” I admitted.

“And therefore what should happen?”

“I should be spanked again.”

“OK, prepare yourself then.”

Dad had never put it quite like that before, though this entire line of questioning had been different. I stood up and first looked at his lap, then the desk and finally the space behind us. All three were valid options and he hadn’t stated which one. Over his lap always made me feel childish though the desk seemed like an equally juvenile position. Touching my toes would hurt worst than the other two, but seemed the most adult option. I am an adult and I am taking an adult punishment, so there really was only one choice.

I took three steps towards the back wall, so that I was well clear of any furniture. I contemplated leaving my PJs or panties up, but either seemed wrong. I closed my eyes, hooked my thumbs under my panty waistline and lowered both garments together. I stayed inverted and grasped my ankles to wait for the incoming pain.

Dad’s belt drew tears from me on the first stroke. It stung me to my core, yet I felt relieved at the same time. Cliche or not, but it felt as if each swat was lifting the weight of the world off my shoulders. I had read of the trials by fire of different cultures, and how this physically painful events could bring spiritual enlightenment, though I had never believed them until that moment. This spanking would become my trial by fire into adulthood.

Afterwards the normal hugs and cuddling on Daddy’s lap occurred. It had been a long time since I had felt like his little girl instead of a headstrong teenager taking on the world alone.

I wish I could say that was the last spanking I ever got. I’ve had a few more trips over Mom’s knee or Dad’s desk, though each of them has been at my prompting, rather that of my parents’. I swear Mom almost fainted the first time I came back from college and presented her my hairbrush before confessing to a bunch of things and draping myself over her lap. I know she thought I was crazy, but she carried out her motherly duty.

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.

In the back of a cop car

You drove right past
That no trespassing sign
We sat on the tailgate
And watched the planes take off

I thought we had all night
There was no need to rush
That’s when those cops
Came pulling up
And I thought
Man, ain’t this some shit

My daddy’s gonna kill me
But if I survive tonight
I wouldn’t change one thing
Baby, yeah
I know it sounds crazy

But there was something bout the way
The blue lights were shining
Bringing out the freedom in your eyes
I was too busy watching you
Going wild child
To be worried about going to jail
You were thinking that
Running for it
Would make a good story
I was thinking you were crazy as hell
And I was so innocent
But you were stealing my heart
I fell in love in the back of a cop car

Man, they weren’t playing
They sure threw those cuffs on quick
I tried to sweet talk ’em
They didn’t fall for it
But you did
You were on the left
I was on the right
You knew I didn’t smoke
When I asked him for a light
And you laughed
He got mad and slammed the door

Daddy’s gonna kill me
But if I survive tonight
I wouldn’t change one thing
Baby, yeah
I know it sounds crazy

But there was something bout the way
The blue lights were shining
Bringing out the freedom in your eyes
I was too busy watching you
Going wild child
To be worried about law school
You were thinking that
Loving on me
Would make a good story
I was thinking we were crazy as hell
Harvard wouldn’t wait
And daddy wouldn’t understand
I fell in love in the back of a cop car

Side by side
And locked in tight
They were taking their time
But we didn’t mind
We talked
And we laughed
We sat real close
By the time they let us go
I was already gone

Daddy didn’t understand what I saw
Those blue lights were still flashing
When they dropped me off
He was too busy seeing your tattoos
And the cop car
To be worried about my showing that belt
I was thinking that
Running for it
Would make a good story
I was thinking this was hurting like hell
And I wasn’t so innocent
But daddy was stripping my bottom
For I fell in love in the back of a cop car

New Years Recollections and Resolutions, Part I

This story is a standalone continuation of the Three Ghosts of Halloween. The characters are the same, through it should enjoyable without having read the other story.

“Deck the halls with bows of Holli, Fa La La!…” I hummed along to the music of Jingle Bells as I dug around in my closet looking for something to wear tonight. I don’t know why tune was still in my head, being that Christmas was a week ago. I guess I was just in a festive mood. Tonight was New Year’s Eve and it was time to get my party on. Since becoming an adult, I had become to prefer the New Years celebrations to those of Christmas. Christmas is great and all, but it is a time for family, while New Year’s is a time for friends. The later is just less stressful for me.

I pull the bottom pair of jeans from the stack then give them a good shake. These were my best pair of skinny jeans and I prayed I could still squeeze into them after the holiday food frenzy. I took a deep break as the waist neared to top of my thighs. Releasing my breath, I pulled the jeans up and gave a slight hop. When I landed the waist had cleared by hips and settle into their natural place. I quickly zipped them up before attempting to breath again. I was quite amazed at how easy they went on. Maybe I hadn’t gained as much weight as I had thought.

Next up was a cute top. The first couple options I pulled from the hangers were too “worky” or “cluby.” I wanted something that had an understated sexiness to it. Part of tonight’s fun was going to be teasing Adam all night long before we christened the New Year our special way. I turned around and started on the other side when I pulled out a black cashmere sweater with a mild V-neck. Just the thing get his motor going.

I pulled the sweater over my head and adjusted the front to show a fair amount of cleavage. I moved over to the full length mirror to admire my outfit, “Damn I look hot!” I ran a hand down my body, smoothing out a couple of wrinkles. “Why hadn’t I wore this combo more this winter?” Like a tidal wave, the events surrounding my last wearing of this sweater came back.

I snuck the bags through the backdoor, hoping Adam wasn’t home yet. I had left before him, but I wasn’t sure where he was going, so he could be back already. It would wreck the surprise if he saw his Christmas presents before Christmas. Also, I might have spent a little bit more than I had intended, but the deals were so good.

I tip-toed through our house, like a teenager trying to sneak in after curfew. I had to bump into everything in my path and squeaked every floorboard I could on my way to the master bedroom. I was sure I had made it when I opened the bedroom door only to have the same outcome as most teenagers, being caught.

“Ah, you got home,” Adam said from behind the glow of his laptop. In the low light, I wouldn’t make out much, but he looked a little annoyed from here. “Put away the gifts then we need to have a talk.”

“But..but..but…” I tried defending myself against the unknown accusation.

The next few minutes were a blur. Adam quickly informed me that he knew exactly how much I had spent, and that it was considerably more than we had agreed to spend jointly. Like a thousand dollars more. And that any purchases made for myself would be returned in the morning, plus, he was going to implement our post-Halloween agreement. The next thing I really remember was being face down over his lap as he went to work on my butt. I was squealing from his hand within a minute. When tears started to come he stopped, and began scolding me about my poor spending habits. I have to admit this wasn’t the first time I had spent a little bit too much.

“Ok, stand up,” Adam commanded. I was half expecting him to continue for another 10 minutes of stingy spanks, but he had asked me to get up, like my spanking was all over.

I eased myself off his lap, and immediately started to rub the sting out of my bottom. I barely touched my bottom before he took my wrists and held them together in front of my pussy. “Hey!”

“Not yet, your spanking is even close to being over,” Adam chided as he got up, holding my wrists together with one hand. “I think this is much too serious for a hand spanking.” My heart sank at those words. After the Halloween incident, I had gotten this great idea to look up adult spankings online and spent most of the weekend learning all about the subject as well as domestic discipline and a couple things I wish I could unlearn. The masterful part of my idea was the Discipline Agreement I wrote up and presented to Adam at dinner on Sunday. It basically said he could spank me anytime I was naughty and anyway he deemed appropriate. The thorough fool I am, I provided him examples of misbehaviors and appropriate punishments.

I was spun around and escorted over to the decorative chair we kept in corner of our room. Adam must have pulled it away from the wall, because when he popped me up onto it so I was kneeling, facing the back, I had plenty of room to hold on to the back without bumping my head into the wall. I closed my eyes, waiting for want additional punishment he had in store for me.

I heard it before it’s fiery touch exploded across my bottom. He was using my white leather belt and not holding anything back. In a split second I regretted ever agreeing to be spanked as a second stroke came back. Adam followed my directions exactly, giving me just over dozen horrible strokes while ignoring my pleas for mercy. I was a crying mess when his hug surrounded me and carried me to bed.

“Honey! Where is the bottle of champagne?” Adam’s call from downstairs broke me from my revile. I blinked a couple of times, before noticing in the mirror my hand was rubbing a phantom throb from my bottom. I blushed slightly as I hurried downstairs to find the champagne for him. I had no intention of repeating the Black Friday incident tonight. How could I? We were just going over to our friends for drinks and some games.

It took me only a minute to gather up the champagne, deserts and couple of games we were taking over to Rick and Brittney’s. Once Adam helped me in to my new winter coat, a Christmas present from him, we were off to walk the block and a half to our friend’s house. I had contemplated asking Adam to drive, but the crisp winter’s air felt refreshing. It was quite romantic actually, gazing up at the stars as I held onto my man’s arm. The old fashion light posts lit our path while gentle breezes tried to tickle beneath my pea coat. I felt like I was living in the middle of a romantic movie.

After a brief greeting, Rick took Adam downstairs to show of his new toys. I heard something about XBox before I lost all interest in their conversation. Boys and their toys; things I’ll never understand.

“Do you think we’ll see the guys before midnight?” I asked Brittney as she led the way to the kitchen.

“Yea, the fridge is almost empty in the bar down there. I give them an hour before they come looking for food or beer.”

I chuckled as added, “They can have all the beer.”

“You know it girl. I got big bottle of Jose Silver so we can make margaritas. Let the men have their beer!” Brittney responded, pulling 1.75L bottle of tequila from the counter next to the fridge.

“Margaritas, yikes!” I thought. It tastes so good, and makes me get so bad. I took a quick glance around the counters, looking for some alternative. Anything other than tequila. Wine? Vodka? Whiskey? Nothing was present, and I doubted the fridge would offer anything other than beer. What to do? What should I do? What will I do? Brittney had never seen me after a couple shots of tequila. I actually hadn’t had tequila since that bonfire party Adam dragged me to a couple months after we started dating.

—-

“Hey Babe, what a shot?” Adam asked as he pour some cheap off-brand, tequila into plastic shot glasses.

“Sure!” I grabbed the pink cup and held it high while Rick took a blue one and Adam took a neon yellow.

“Cheers!” I said tapping the guy’s cups then tossed back the shot. The tequila burned in all the good ways. First my throat warmed to its embrace, then a couple gentle tinges in my stomach before I could feel it coursing through my veins. All of a sudden I felt extra alive.

I grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured out another round. I threw mine back before the guys had their plastic cups in the air. The second one was better than the first. The third was even better. We ran out of tequila on the third and Adam volunteered to go get more, and some much needed chasers.

The music felt so good at that moment I just had to dance.

I placed a knee on the edge of the table and tried to propel myself onto it, but my lack of balance was sending me backwards. Luckily, some gentleman saw my problem and provide a little help, and with big hand planted firmly on my ass, I was standing on the table. I let the music do its thing, guiding my hips to the beat as I raised my hands above my head.

Eventually the rock song ended and was replaced by a more upbeat song, “Opps I did it again!” Brittney’s music video shot through my mind, as if it was a personal challenge. I could show her sexy. That little Disney star didn’t know sexy if it was looking her in the face. I closed my eyes as my hips popped with the beat.

My pleated skirt joined my hips, swaying to and fro as the hem danced it’s way up my thighs. The cool night air seeping into the previously clammy confides invigorated me. I just started to increase my gyrations when the song ended and a new, quicker beat song started. For a moment, I was tempted to get down. The singular repetition of snare and bass was sapping my energy. Tequila convinced me to give it a try, and I began putting out my left leg an tapping along with the beat. Two measures later the guitar joined in and recognized the song.

“Sweat Baby! Sweat Baby!” the lyrics blasted from the speakers, encouraging me pantomime the story being portrayed. ” Imitated brushing sweet from my brow, will keeping my hips swaying with the beat. “Put your hands, down my pants, and I bet you’ll feel nuts!” I slipped my right hand down the front of my skirt while making a mock surprise face and cover my mouth with my left hand.

“Come on, get down from there!” Adam yelled over the music. I swept my hand around to brush him off, but depth perception had left my vision at least a shot ago. My hand missed him by two feet and instead getting him to move back, provided him with an anchor to hold me.

“No..” I continued to sway along with the beat which by now only existed in my head. “Let maaa danccce!”

“Hey!” came a collective protest from every guy around. Adam ignored them all, and swept his left arm around my knees and hoisted me into his arms. I squealed in surprise and started wiggling about, trying to free myself. It was at that moment I realized a real problem with dating a linebacker; he is expected to physically stop men three times my size out on the field. I have no chance of escaping his grip if he doesn’t want to let me go. And I am fine with that fact.

Adam took only a couple of steps before gently setting my feet upon the ground. He had thoughtfully assumed I would not like gravity at that moment and set me next to the wall. I held onto the wall until the floor decided to quit titling and stay still. I was then able to look at Adam in the eye, and tell he was quite upset.

“Awe, don’t you like me dancing sexy?” I purred as I ran a finger down his chest.

“Not like some 2-dollar whore!” Adam snapped.

“I am not some whore!” I responded, trying to stand upright. The alcohol was having an effect on my balance, but I knew I could overcome it.

“What you were doing up there sure looked like it!”

“Fuck you!” I waved my right index finger about before landing it on his chest. “If you like it, you can find another girl!” I gave a slight push, turned and walked off to find a guy who liked my dancing. I have no idea how I walked away, but somehow accomplished it.

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?”

Spanksgiving Day Parade

“Welcome to to the Spanksgiving Day Parade. I am Catherine Littlebum and I am here with Daniel Hardhand.”

“Welcome, We have a great parade in store for you today. I have seen some of today’s floats and they even better than last year. You are really going to see something special today.”

“That is for sure. This year, like always, is starting right on time.”

“This year it is being lead by the marching band, ‘Contrite Chrisses’. Is that? Yes it is! They are playing their world famous ‘Solemn Lullaby’! Oh what a wonderful tune.”

“That it is Daniel. It always sends a shiver down my spine when I hear it.”

“And a twitch in the bum?”

“Well that’s a given, Daniel. Next up is the float from St. Lucianna’s School for Naughty Girls.”

“Oh what a wonderful school scene they have. Those Nun habits look very authentic from up here. Those ‘schoolgirls’ may have graduated long ago, but they are surely learning some lessons today.”

“Especially that redhead over the desk getting a workout from the ruler.”

“Catherine, don’t forget the back of the float! It looks like the Headmaster’s study is busy today.”

“Oh, your right. The two blondes touching their toes are perfectly positioned for his cane.”

“Nothing but six of the best!”

“You can say that again, Daniel.”

“Nothing but six of the best! Up next is one of the more extreme floats, from Lefien Leather.”

“Oh, that leather cat suit looks awful hot from up here.”

“Would you rather be freezing in those schoolgirl outfits we just saw, Catherine?”

“You know it! Now comes my favorite part of the parade, The giant balloons!”

“We have a giant flying paddle, and a hairbrush. Ohh, and that padded sawhorse is new.”

“I haven’t seen that one before. It looks like a circular arrowhead.”

“I bet you haven’t seen it before, but you probably felt it. It’s a ginger plug for figging.”

“Oh yea. Your right Daniel, I have never saw one, just felt a few.”

“Next up, we have Inquisition Goods, makers of some of the finest Medieval toys available.”

“Those hooded executioners sure look ominous. That one is really flogging the woman secured to the St. Andrews Cross.”

“The blonde in the pillory is looking like she is have a good time. Oh her execution just dropped his tawse and, yup, there he goes, rogering her good.”

“What a lucky girl! Next up is the all female marching band, ‘Yelping Ladies’ performing ‘Spank Dance.’ Look at their Color Guard jump. Those drum majors are not holding anything back.”

“It is called ‘Spank Dance’ for a reason. Next we have the float by Domestic Depot. What a lovely bedroom scene they have created this year. That bride is sure getting it.”

“A hairbrush in a groom’s hands has straighten out many bridezillas. I sure worked for me. Wow, look at those jugglers through around those paddles, they are an experts in dealing with the hard wood.”

“I bet they get plenty of practice. Catherine, it looks like we are nearing the end of this years parade, but first we have the float from the sweet people over at College Accessories. It looks like they have a lovely dorm room scene.”

“Daniel, I can tell you haven’t been to a College in quite a few years, because that isn’t a dorm room, its a sorority housemother’s room.”

“Oh, your right. And those sister sure have been naughty. Good thing they are right after the paddle jugglers, that housemother looks like she might need a replacement paddle soon.”

“There is our last float, and as is tradition, there is Spank Claus. Daniel, can you tell what is he giving out to all the naughty girls and boys this year?”

“Those are little wooden spoons!”

“Hopefully they won’t have to wait until they get home to be used.”

“I agree.”

“Well, I’d like to thank you all for coming out on this lovely Spanksgiving Day. Today’s parade was sure a great one. I’m Catherine Littlebum.”

“And I’m Daniel Hardhand, wishing you a wonderful rest of the day.”