Mommy ate all my candy

“DADDDY!” Julie cried as my little girl rounded the corner and she went straight for my legs. She was normally happy to see me when I got home from work, especially on a Friday, when I would get home early. Tears though were unusual. I dropped my suitcase as two little arms encircled my thighs.

“Whats wrong?” I asked, scoping her into my arms.

Her little arm whipped away a few tears before blabbering, “Sniff, Mommy ate all my candy!”

Eating 5 pounds of candy in one day didn’t seem like Emma. Eating that much candy was even much more me and I had the sweet tooth between my wife and I. She preferred the really expensive dark chocolate to Skittles and Reece’s. The only time I remember her eating any kids type candy was during come of her crazy cravings when she was pregnant with Julie.

I carried Julie on my hip and followed the sound of the TV in search of some answers. Emma was sitting on the couch working on her laptop while watching a cooking show. “Honey, why does Julie think you ate all of her Halloween candy?”

“I didn’t eat all of her candy. It’s in the cabinet above the fridge.”

“But…but…you said you did!” Julie cried stuttered through her sniffles. Her little tear stain sleeve and puffy little eyes were pulling at my heart strings. She was daddy’s little girl and we both knew what that meant.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t eat all your candy.”

“But…” Julie’s mind hadn’t quite comprehended the prank and I knew it probably wouldn’t until she saw her candy safe and sound. With a glare at my wife, I took Julie back to the kitchen to find her long-lost candy.

The big green bowl of sweets had been exactly where Emma had said. I had to set Julie on the floor so could get it out. I brought the bowl over to the counter and Julie hopped up on one of the bar stools.

“MY CANDY!” she yelled for joy upon seeing the bowl was full. No sooner had I let go, than she pulled the entire bowl tight towards her body and hugged it with all her might. I was about to tell her that she could have one piece when I noticed her broad smile had disappeared. “I think some is missing,” she said, crunching her eyebrows like she was trying to figure out a mystery.

“Hu? It looks all here to me.”

She started fishing around, looking for something. “But all the Reece’s are missing.”

“Are you sure? They are probably just on the bottom.”

“Yea, they are all gone,” she said nodding her head in confirmation. “Ah, its OK, I don’t like them,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders then went back to admiring her stash.

I allowed her to take one piece before I returned the bowl to it’s normal spot on the counter. It was within her line of sight, but generally outside of her direct reach. I sent her off to play so I could find out the whole story of what happened this afternoon.

“So why did you hide Julie’s Halloween candy?” I asked, slouching into the recliner.

“Oh, there is this contest online about the best reaction of kids when the are told that their parents ate all their Halloween candy. Julie’s is great. You want to see?” Emma started to turn around her laptop but I cut her off.

“No, not really. You put our daughter in tears for some dumb contest?”

“Oh she’ll get over it. And the grand prize is a $10,000 college scholarship. Anyways she was pestering me about eating that stuff all afternoon after I told her she could only have one piece after lunch.”

“She’s four and Halloween was yesterday. Of course it is all she can think about. It was still mean.”

“She’ll be OK in a little bit. She probably won’t even remember by bedtime.” Emma said dismissively.

She was probably right. Hopefully Julie will have forgotten about the whole episode by bedtime. I doubted Emma would be so forgetful come bedtime. I got up and started towards my office. I paused behind Emma’s spot on the couch and leaned down to whisper, “Hopefully, but I doubt you’ll be forgetting it come your bedtime.”

A shiver went down Emma’s back when the words hit home. She pulled an annoyed face at me before returning to her laptop.

—-

Dinner and TV time passed as if nothing had happened. Julie was her ultra-cheery self and didn’t even mention anything about her candy until I was ushering her upstairs for bedtime. Emma and I switched off bedtime duty with me getting the easier Friday/Saturday/Sunday set while she took the other days.

“Daddy?” Julie stopped on the third step and looked at me all serious.

“Yes, baby?” I knelt on the first step so we were roughly eye-level.

“Can I take my candy up to my room so Mommy doesn’t eat it again? I promise I won’t eat any!” She bangs bounced across her forehead as she nodded furiously, as if it would help convince me.

“Mommy won’t take any of your candy. I’ll guard it for you.”

“You promise?” she held up three fingers on her right hand in a tiny mock scout’s sign.

“I promise.” I said mimicking her.

“OK.” She paused for a moment before adding, “mommy can have the Reece’s, I don’t like them. Oh, and those sour ones. Yuck!”

I could barely prevent myself from laughing at the sour face she made. “OK.” She padded off up the stairs, her teddy bear dragging behind her. I followed her upstairs, helping her go through her bedtime routine before tucking her and providing a reassuring kiss.

I was just about to turn off her room light when she said, “Don’t forget you promised.”

“I won’t,” I reassured before leaving the room a glow in the princess nightlight and closing her door.

I spent the next half an hour rummaging around the master bedroom and my office, finishing up a few odds and ends from work before checking on Julie. I peaked in to find her lightly snoring away. She may not have gotten Emma or my personality, but she did end up with our allergies. The benadryl would get rid of the congestion soon and keep her out well into the morning.

Emma was back working on her laptop when I returned to the living room. “A little girl didn’t forget about her candy getting stolen today. You think a big girl needs a reminder also?”

“No,” she said ruefully.

“I disagree. It was a very naughty thing to do.” The implication hung heavily between us.

“But…but..it was for her college fund!” Emma look up at me with huge doe eyes.

“It doesn’t make it any less naughty. And not telling her immediately afterwards was extra mean.”

“I now,” she conceded. “But…but… she was annoying me.”

“And now you are annoying me. It’s time you get your hiney upstairs.”

“But, Julie will hear!”

“Benadryl will prevent that, but if you are still concerned about waking her, I know a pair of panties which won’t be needed.”

The last part silenced anymore protests. Emma hated it when she was made to chew on her panties, but we had found them to be extremely effective when needing to conceal her cries of pain, or pleasure. The panty gag coupled with a Teflon spatula worked as a very effective combination since Julie had been born.

With a pout, Emma closed her laptop and stomped upstairs. That little act of defiance would earn her a couple extras. Extras were an odd concept for us, since I never used a set number of spanks, rather just going until she was appropriately punished.

I gave her a few minutes to get ready before switching off the TV and joining my wife in our bedroom. As was customary, she changed into just a baby-doll nightie and planted her nose in the open corner by our bathroom. The corner-thing was something she added to this little ritual shortly after we got married and I still have no idea where she got it from. I find it cute, and appropriate, so I have never pressed the issue.

I left her there while I made a few final preparations. I fished our tawse out of my underwear drawer and moved a few of the decorative throw pillows into a stack at the end of the bed. I originally was mad when Emma bought those overpriced decorations, though now she regrets the purchase since I found a practical use for them.

I slipped the tawse into my back pocket then slipped behind Emma. “I think it’s time we got down to business.” My whisper sent shiver down her spine. I took a step back, smiling as I watched my beautiful wife close her eyes and take a deep breath as she mentally prepared herself. Without a word, she shuffled her feet over to the bed and gracefully draped herself over the stack of pillows. Her nightie rode up in the back, offering up her creamy bottom.

“She is can be so damn sexy. I’m going to have a taste after I get done,” I thought to myself. “But that would have to wait.”

I slipped the implement from my back pocket and took up position to her left. Normally with a punishment spanking I would start immediately with the implement of choice, and this time would have been no different had I realized something was missing. In particular her panties were missing from her mouth.

Shifting the tawse to my left hand, I started with a few dozen easy hand swats, imparting a nice pink hue to her normally khaki complexion.

“Forget your panties?” I asked rhetorically.

“Grrr…they are in the hamper,” I could tell from the tone of her voice that she didn’t want to tell me, but knew better to disobey.

She’d hide the pink, bikini-style panties inside the jeans she was wearing today. I unballed them and made sure they were inverted before I allowed her to bite down. Honestly, they were more symbolic than practical, especially since most of the garment resided outside of her actual mouth. Only the gusset was actually inside, but having that small bit of material to bite was all that she required to stop from crying out.

“That’s better, now we can begin.” I commented, getting back into position. I held the strip of leather behind her bottom, taking aim but careful not to actually touch her. I wanted the first one to be a surprise. I raised the tawse high over my right shoulder and brought it crashing into her bottom. Her moan told me I had hit the proverbial nail on the head.

The next swats were quicker and less forceful, but paced after 10 seconds or so to allow her to fully absorb the sensations imparted by the tawse.

After a half dozen swats, she was starting to wiggle her hips about, clearly feeling the sting. At a dozen, the bending knees and pounding fists joined her antics. At two dozen her sniffles were added to the mix. At a three dozen she had given the on the fussing about and relaxed into muted sobs.

I admired at my handiwork in painting those two globes crimson. My portrait of contrition was quite complete yet, but wanted to let my work simmer a little bit before I finished. It offered her a chance to settle down while thinking about how she got herself into this position. I particularly wanted her to think about the poor taste of such a prank.

Waiting until the sobs had dissipated, I bent directly over her back, allowing my jeans to brush against her tender bottom. She wiggled her hips in a mixture of avoidance and enticement. I slipped the panties from her lips before asking, “Are you sorry?”

“Yes, sir…” she responded with vigor than someone should have after a dozen with the tawse. A slight wiggle of her hips told me more than any words spoken.

“I think a couple more are needed.” She groaned at the proclamation, but didn’t say anything. I slid my hand down her back as I stood back up, letting finger tips linger at the crown of her left cheek. “Remember, don’t cry out,” I taunted.

I stepped back and laid the tawse across the center of her left cheek and let it hang for a second. I waited for her to suck in a breath before I brought the handle straight back then quickly forward in an upwards arc. The the lower of the two tails caught her exactly where I had intended, a the junction of left buttock and thigh. The swat took her by surprise and I’m sure it took all of her strength not to cry out. I waited for her wiggling to die down before repeating with a backhand swat to her right side.

Emma took a minute to regain her composure be from the last blistering swats before I could help her up. Like always, once she was on her feet she instantly locked her arms around me in a tight hug, burying her face into my chest while I lightly kneaded her bottom.

“What you did was mean.” I told.

“I know.” she said ruefully. “I’ll make it up to her in the morning. I just had such a bad craving for Reece’s this morning. Then after eating them all I worried about what Julie would say. Then she was bugging me for some and I saw the contest online and I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“A craving for Reece’s?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeaaaa….” she said with a roll of her eyes. There was only one reason she craved Reece’s.

Three Ghosts of Halloween, Part II

The errands took way too long. Two simple errands should have taken only twenty minutes, but two hours later I was walking into the French Cafe straight in the middle of the lunchtime crowd. Waiting 10 minutes did not increase the prospect of securing a table so I just gave up and went home. I would have to resort to eating the leftovers from dinner last night.

As I neared the entrance to our subdivision, two police cruisers and a large blank van flew by with lights and sirens ablaze. Something big was happening to have the SWAT van going. The first thing I did when I got home is to flip on the small TV in the kitchen. Hopefully the news would have a live report on the hostage situation or standoff.

The 12 o’clock news was already in progress, thought the weather forecast was being provided at the moment. I had a moment to toss Adam’s leftover chicken Parmesan in the microwave. He probably wouldn’t care.

“Now, for some breaking news at the courthouse. Allison,” the news anchor said. The words “breaking news” instantly perked my interest.

“I’m here at the courthouse where I just learned the charges against all three ringleaders in last week’s homecoming party fiasco.” The reporter told the audience. “As you will remember, I reported last week about police breaking up a wild party where nearly the entire Jefferson High senior class were detained for underage drinking and trespassing. It appears the farm’s owner and the prosecutor agreed with the parents of the three girls that the two eighteen year olds and the one nineteen year old had been adequately punished and no further action was needed. The judge agreed only after a conference with the girl’s parents, and attorney’s in closed chambers. Here comes one of the fathers right now. Mr. Williams, how do you feel about the judge’s decision that allow your punishment to stand?”

“Her mother and I had a long discussion with our daughter and taught her a tough lesson in responsibility. Luckily the judge and prosecutor agreed that she was contrite and they dropped the charges on my promise of reinforcing that lesson tonight. And I damn well intend to.” The larger, gruff man told the reporter.

“Well good for you. I learned a few painful lessons from my father when I was a young adult and I hope it helps your daughter like it helped me. Janice, back to you in the studio.” The reporter told the news anchor.

“Thank you Allison. It is good to hear that some parents still want to parent and not be their child’s friend. My mother wouldn’t have cared had I been 8, 18 or 28. We probably would have had a similar discussion as those defendants. Too bad more parents don’t think that way anymore. Now on to sports. Jeff.” The pretty blonde anchor told the audience.

I changed the channel once I heard something about the world series. I don’t understand why or how Adam can spend hours watching sports. Maybe another channel would have the story about the police incident.

Ding! Lunch was ready. I grabbed a potholder and scooped up the cardboard container from the microwave. Hmmm, cheesy goodness.

“Now, for some breaking news at the courthouse. Allison,” I heard a female news anchor say behind me. With a fork in hand, I settled back on the counter stool to eat while watching the news.

“I’m here at the courthouse where I just learned the charges against all three ringleaders in last week’s homecoming party fiasco.” The reporter told the audience. She looked really similar to the reporter at the other station. Blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs and a bright smile seems to be the only qualification needed to be a reporter anymore.

“As you will remember, I reported last week about police breaking up a wild party where nearly the entire Jefferson High senior class were detained for underage drinking and trespassing. It appears the farm’s owner and the prosecutor agreed with the parents of the three girls that the two eighteen year olds and the one nineteen year old had been adequately punished and no further action was needed. The judge agreed only after a conference with the girl’s parents, and attorney’s in closed chambers.”

This seems eerily familiar to the previous report. Even that guy coming up behind her looks familiar.

“Here comes one of the fathers right now. Mr. Williams, how do you feel about the judge’s decision that allow your punishment to stand?” The reporter asked.

“Her mother and I had a long discussion with our daughter and taught her a tough lesson in responsibility.” The large, gruff man stated.

That was exactly what he said last time. Is this the same channel? I pressed the info button on the remote, popping up the channel information onto the screen to confirm I had indeed changed the channel.

“Luckily the judge and prosecutor agreed that she was contrite and they dropped the charges on my promise of reinforcing that lesson tonight. And I damn well intend to.” The father stated.

What the hell? I just watched this report a few minutes ago. Have the local news really gotten that cheap that they are sharing staff? Or is someone trying to play a prank on everyone?

“Well good for you. I learned a few painful lessons from my father when I was a young adult and I hope it helps your daughter like it helped me. Janice, back to you in the studio.” The reporter told the news anchor.

Painful lessons? Is she trying to imply that poor girl was spanked for throwing a party? What brute! And the judge and prosecutor agreed with it? They are supposed to protect the innocent, not help them be victimized. They are just teenagers and they did something dumb. What is new? They don’t have to be beaten for it.

“Thank you Allison. It is good to hear that some parents still want to parent and not be their child’s friend. My mother wouldn’t have cared had I been 8, 18 or 28. We probably would have had a similar discussion as those defendants. Too bad more parents don’t think that way anymore. Now on to sports. Jeff.” The anchor told the audience.

And now the news anchor is supporting it also. Grounding her for a month would have worked just fine. I was never spanked and I turned out fine. Dumb right-wing bible thumping conservatives. Won’t they ever learn. Doubt they will ever learn.

Finishing lunch, I figured I might as well start the pumpkin pie. It’ll take a hour or something to cook and Adam had to have his pumpkin pie or he’d throw a hissy-fit. He can be such a frigging baby sometimes.

I grabbed the canned pumpkin, pumpkin spice, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, evaporated milk and eggs and started mixing everything in a big bowl. The orange gooey mixture filled two pre-made pie crusts; one for the party and one for Adam. I bet I can use the second one for leverage until Thanksgiving. Oven set at 375F, now I got an hour to relax.

Three Ghosts of Halloween

This is the first of a four part Halloween series which will be published between now and October 30th.

Buzzz Buzzz Buzzz my phone vibrated across the headboard. Shut up! I thought as I whacked it with a pillow. It was my day off so wanted to sleep in goddammit, not get up early and do shit.

I relaxed my shoulders, down through my chest and just started to return to dreamland when my phone started vibrating again. “Grrr…” I growled as I felt around above my head. This better be important, like someone dying or something. I opened my eyes just enough to let the light flood in, and see the screen.

“I love you,” read the top text from Adam. “Ill be home at 6, be ready” followed below. He woke me for that? I nearly threw the phone across the room but the bright light cascading around the drapes convinced me I probably should get up.

I dropped my phone on the bed to stretch the sleep out of my legs and arms. With a yawn I padded off to the bathroom. My return to the bedroom, the blinking red light on my Blackberry indicated another new message. This was too much, especially before I had my morning coffee. Still, out of habit I flicked to my messages on the way to the kitchen to find another text from my husband, “Don’t forget to get your costume or make the pumpkin pie”

Grrrr. I hate Halloween. I don’t know why adults love such a childish holiday, and Adam is probably the worst of them all. Luckily we were only going to one costume party this year, thought it was tonight. He’ll probably make me dress back up for tomorrow evening while we hand out candy.

I paused at the kitchen doorway to text back, “I WONT!” Now, coffee time.

After two cups of coffee, a yogurt and nice hot shower, I figured I should run over to the temporary Halloween shop and grocery store before lunch.

The shop was actually two empty store fronts with part of the adjoining wall knocked down. The left side contained the home decor and men’s costumes while the right side contained the cash registers, women’s and kids costumes. The current state of the store reminded me of toy store the afternoon of Black Friday, or a small town after a tornado. Empty boxes were thrown everywhere. Most of the clothes racks contained empty hangers and random parts of various costumes.

It took me ten minutes to find three complete costumes in anything close to my size; “A Sexy Kitty”, “A Sexy Nurse” and “A Wicked Witch.” The name sexy was just a pseudonym for slutty or scandalous, as in this situation. The nurse costume was basically a ultra short lab coat with a white garter and stockings and a plastic syringe. The kitty was not any better, resembling a leopard print leotard with a pair of matching fur ears and tail. Either would make me feel more like a cheap streetwalker than “sexy.” The witch’s costume was considerably less scandalous, though not something I would wear in public on any day other than Halloween. A short-sleeve black dress with a reasonable amount of cleavage was paired with black pointy hate and a fake mole.

The only problem with the witch’s costume was the package said the dress was a 2, and I am much more of a 4-6 type woman. You know, someone who actually eats, but cares about their figure. Maybe it would fit, but I should try it on before buying it. I would hate having to come pack to this place again.

The only clerk in the store pointed towards the back hallway when I asked about a changing room. She seemed more interested in her iPhone than me, and I didn’t blame her. She had a horrible job.

The hallway leading to the women’s dressing rooms was of the warehouse storage area than a finished hallway. Empty boxes were stacked haphazardly in piles against the walls. It was almost like a cardboard maze to find the dressing room area. Turning the corner I came across two quickly constructed dressing doors. Simple black painted plywood and 2x4s created the walls while plain wooden interior doors formed the doors. Luckily, one of the doors was open, so I wouldn’t have to wait.

I quickly latched the lock behind me and checked to make sure it worked. A little rattling and the door didn’t move. I started removing my top when I heard a women’s voice coming from the other dressing room. “You aren’t going out in that! It’s way too revealing!” I thought I heard over the haunted house music. The music seemed extra loud back here.

“MOM!” a distinctly younger female voice responded, followed by a bunch of stuff I couldn’t’ make out. It seems some girl didn’t like the costume her mother picked out. Well, I don’t really like mine either, learn to deal with it.

I was slipping off my jeans when I heard more noise coming from next door. This time it sounded more like water falling from a leaky faucet than voices. I glanced around the ceiling above the makeshift dressing room to see if I could see a water. Nothing, but the pitter-patter sound continued, getting a little quicker if anything.

I finished removing my jeans and slipped the witch’s dress over my head when I heard voices again coming from next door. This time, it sounded like the girl kept saying yes, roughly in time with the water drops. It was probably my imagination, or some additive chanting to the haunted house sound track.

The dress fit well enough, though it was a little tight and the skirt portion was definitely on the skimpy side. I bet I’d flash my panties if I bent over. Well there wasn’t much I could do about it, since the alternatives were definitely not any more conservatives. Why do they have to make all the women’s costumes so revealing. Even a nun’s typical costume would have been more appropriate in a sex store than a Halloween stop.

I returned the dress to it’s bag and got redressed. I was just starting to open the dressing room door when a young women came scampering out of the other dressing room, taking a kitty costume over to the rack by the door.

She had almost returned to the other dressing room when an older female voice stopped her in her tracks. “Go back and put it properly on the rack young lady!” I hadn’t paid the girl any notice until the mother reprimanded her. At that point I took a good look at her.

“Yes, mom!” The girl said sullenly, noticing me as she turned back towards the rack. Woman would have been a more appropriate term, since she looked to be in her late teens to early twenties. More likely early twenties since it was eleven o’clock in the morning on a Friday when teenagers were normally in school.

She started to blushing when she noticed me. I would have guessed it was from her lack of clothes, being that she only had on a simple nude bra and white nylon panties. The panties caught my attention when she bent over to pick up the discarded costume. Her bottom was a deep red hue, contrasting considerably to her white panties and thighs. Had she just been spanked I asked myself as I left the dressing room area. The watery look in her eyes seemed to reinforce that idea.

The sight in the dressing room haunted me the whole way to the grocery store. It was just on the other side of the shopping center, but still. Why would a mother still spank her adult daughter? Why did the daughter allow it? Did she like it or something? Who in hell would like a spanking? Was it just some sick prank they were pulling on me? All these questions and many more ran through my mind. No matter what the answers, it was wrong to spank anyone, especially an adult child. Someone should bend that old hag over and see how she likes it when she gets her ass beat.

Ding Ding Dong Ding Dang! The ringtone told me Adam was calling even before I fished the phone out of my purse.

“What do you want!” I snapped into the phone.

“I just wanted to see how your day was going and if you got your costume?” Adam responded with a overtly soft voice.

“Yes I got the dumb costume. A witch OK with you?”

“That seems oddly appropriate,” he said.

“Whatever,” mumbled as I rolled my eyes. “Is there anything we need at the grocery store?”

“No, just the stuff to make pumpkin pie.”

Of course we do, that is why I went to the grocery store. “Duh…I meant anything else, like food stuff.”

“You don’t have to be uppity.”

“Uppity? Really? Do you need anything else?”

“Ah, I guess not. Try to have a better day honey, I can’t wait to see you in your costume,” he voice dripping with insincere niceness.

“You bet,” I mumbled to myself before saying “Goodbye” and hanging up the call. He could be such a jerk sometimes. Now where are the baking goods?

Do I need to pull this car over?

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

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

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

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

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

“Then play something else,” I shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please mom!” Sabrina pleaded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am,” Sabrina and I said.

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

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

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

“EEEEIIIIEEEEEE” Sabrina echoed as Mom repeated for her.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, Savannah,” Sabrina apologized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Six thousand five hundred and forty minutes, over the limit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cell phone minutes. So what?”

“I was like a thousand minutes over.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Six thousand five hundred and forty minutes actually.”

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

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

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

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

“Open!” Mary commanded after taking the soap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And to Viola?”

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

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

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

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

“I won’t.”

“Promise!”

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

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

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

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

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

Eyes Larger than Bottom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.