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

Three Ghosts of Halloween, Part IV

This is the fourth, and final part, of the Three Ghosts of Halloween story. It begins with Part I and continues with Part II and Part III.

It took me forever to find Brittany. The people in the living room said she was in the kitchen while the people in kitchen said she was in the living. Finally someone mentioned she had went down to the basement to get some more wine. It taken 15 minutes of searching before I finally found her a storage room in the basement.

“Hey, Bethany’s being attacked by Jake!” I exclaimed.

“What?” Brittany was clearly shocked by my statement. “Attacked?” She probably had more to drink than me, so logic wasn’t her strong suit at the moment.

“Come on, I’ll show you!” I took her hand, and led her upstairs to the master bathroom. During the winding trip upstairs, I started questioning why I had searched for Brittany over Rick or Adam. Either man would have been able to put an instant stop to Jake’s actions. They had meet when playing football in college as walk-on linebackers and neither had lost much of their physics since college.

When we got to the master bedroom, I went straight for the bathroom door, while Brittany held back slightly. Throwing open the door exposed the completely empty bathroom. By this point I figured Jake would have fled, but Bethany also?

“She was right here!” I swear. “And Jake was beating her like some child.”

“Ah, are you sure?” She questioned. The bathroom was obviously empty.

“He was, I swear! She was over his lap with her panties pulled down and was slapping her bottom!”

Brittany blinked slowly as if what I said had relaxed her in some way. “Why don’t you sit down so we can talk.”

“We need to find her, make sure she’s safe!” Why didn’t she want to search for her sister?

“Please, sit. I know what is going on.” Brittany took a seat on the end of her bed and gently patted the spot next to her.

Something wasn’t right. Why was she so calm? Didn’t she worry for Bethany’s safety?

“Please,” she repeated.

I reluctantly obeyed, perching tentatively on the edge of the bed.

“Have you and Adam ever had a disagreement that simmered for days? The conflict slowly eating away at you until you finally burst into a full blown fight?”

“No…” I lied. What do Adam and my martial issues have to do with Bethany? I currently was a little annoyed with Adam for forgetting to get tickets to last weekend’s symphony concert, but that didn’t matter right now.

“Are you sure?” She asked again. “Because my students can lie better than you.”

“Maybe,” I relented, waving my hand off dismissively.

“Doesn’t the emotional strain draw every bit of energy from you?”

“Yea, but arguing is kind of fun, and the makeup sex is so worth it. So what?”

“The sex is so good because you no longer have this great burden weighting you down, preventing you from feeling life.” She licked her lips as I could tell she was contemplating her next words carefully. “Some people…. Some of us have been wise enough to embrace clear, crisp solutions to martial conflicts. Going over our man’s lap and being spanked happens to be a more prevalent and successful solution.”

I think my jaw hit the ground at that moment. “You’re kidding me,” I shook my head dismissively. Spanking conflicted with everything I had been taught growing up. Men are supposed to respect women, not beat them.

“I’m not kidding. It may seem like a juvenile punishment, but between a husband and wife it is much more complex. More intimate.” Brittany explained.

“Bethany gets off on it? Like a fetish?” I asked. Fetishes were something I never really understood. I didn’t really like anything strange in the bedroom department. Just straight making out and intercourse.

“I sincerely doubt she receives any sexual pleasure during a punishment spanking. It is also not a fetish in the way feet or latex. Like I said it is more complex. You are offering yourself up to be disciplined. After which all your sins are washed away and you feel pure, innocent again.”

I cocked my head to the side trying to comprehend what she was saying.

“Remember before Adam, when you broke up with your last boyfriend who broke up with you?”

“Nope, I always dumped them.” She raised her eyebrow questioning my truthfulness again. “Ok, fine. I remember.”

“Right afterwards you were a mix of emotions; anger, sadness, confusion, etc? Then the first thing you did when you got home was cry your eyes out over a pint, or two, of Hagen Dais?”

“Yea. Rocky road was break-up go to.”

“Cookies and Cream here. Once the tears were all gone, that fog of emotions had parted and you could barely remember why you even liked the guy?”

“Yea.” Where was she going with this?

“Getting spanked is a conduit for that emotional release. You are forced to cry all those pent-up emotions out through your tears until the real you is left. The you that loves your husband with every ounce of your being.”

“Hmm. but it”

“You are offering yourself to be disciplined. Abuse is non-consensual. There is nothing abusive when you are consenting to it.”

“But…but…” I was reaching for some objectionable point, but she had already dismissed all of them.

“But you really won’t understand until you try it.”

I still wasn’t buying what ever she was selling.

“Oh, and the sex in the afterglow of a spanking is like ten times better than makeup sex.”

Now it was my turn to question her truthfulness.

“The spanking focuses your brain, and blood, on your hips area, making all your girly parts become ultra sensitive so the briefest contact.”

She paused for a long moment, offering me a chance to object, but I couldn’t think of any legitimate reason.

“I’ll think about it.” I conceded. The concept was intriguing, but still didn’t feel right. How could a modern woman like myself ALLOW a man to spank me.

“Good. And don’t worry about Bethany. I’m sure she’s fine.” Brittany stood up and started for the bedroom door. “Come on, it’s a party. Lets have some fun.”

I wasn’t in the party mood, but followed her downstairs nonetheless. I figured I should find Adam. I got to the top of the stairs when I realized I had never completed my original mission. I did a little pivot at the top of the stairs and returned to the master bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, all I could think of was Bethany laying over Jake’s knee and that bathbrush crashing into her bottom. Her bare bottom had been a mere four feet in front of my current position. The brush, still sitting on edge of the tub, sweeping down in a mighty arc. Her yelp of pain. Her plea of acceptance. I could swear I her say “Gloria, it is OK.”

A cold breeze traveled down my spine, wrapping around to tickle my most intimate parts. The responding shiver shook my entire body off the toilet.

My heart raced. Adrenaline surged through my veins. Everywhere I looked, the bathroom was empty. But someone had just spoke to me and something had just touched me.

Shucking up my panties, I waddled as fast as possible out of the bathroom, even skipping my normal hygiene routine. I was not sure what was going on, but I did not want to be in that bathroom any more.

A sound from the bathroom caused me to glance back as I flung open the bedroom door. The sound echoed again, this time more clearly audible.
It was the sound of wood rapping on soft, smooth flesh. The sound I heard earlier and it was following me,

I rushed through the doorway, still looking over my shoulder, straight into a younger girl.

“Careful!” the girl chided.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hands up slightly, as if I was warding off an attack from her. The petite girl was dressed up like a NFL football player, complete with the black eye hashes. Underneath the costume, she looked eerily familiar. “Wait, aren’t you girl that was on tv today? The one involved in that homecoming party?”

“Yea, my FATHER was sharing all the gory details on tv.” she said, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“Sorry.”

“It is ok, but you should be more careful in the future, otherwise you might end up the same situation as my friends and I.”

“Hu?” I asked.

“Learning a lesson the hard way. We can all learn lessons, even as we get older. Sometimes they hurt a bunch right now and are over with, while others drag on for days or more. Honestly, I prefer the quick sharp ones.” She shrugged her shoulders, then turned to go in the direction of the upstairs bathroom.

I took one step down the stairs when I realized the news report involved a town 15 miles away. Why would that girl be here, especially if she was in that much trouble?

Pausing, I leaned back around the corner looking down the hallway towards the guest bathroom. A man was leaving the bathroom while an older women entered. The girl was gone. It was as if she had vanished. Now were my eyes playing tricks on me too? Or was it something else?

She couldn’t have just vanished. It had to be a trick. Then everything clicked. The girl the news cast, the bathroom episode, Brittany’s lame excuse about Bethany consenting to being spanked. They were all in on it and trying to prank me. Well I would show them!

I continued downstairs, back into the core of the party. Everyone else were drinking, dancing and having a generally good time. Music filled the voids between the costume bodies.

Dancing though was the farthest thing from my mind at the moment. I was determined to figure out what was going on before they completed the prank. Then I could through a monkey wrench and screw everything up. Adam just better not be involved. He knows how much I hate pranks.

None of the obvious culprits seemed to be on the main floor, so they had to be hiding in the basement.

I contemplated playing dumb as I walked down the steep steps into he basement recreation room. I’d play dumb and see what information they leaked. “Yea,” I mumbled to myself, pausing to let a young woman dressed as Little Bo Peep pass. In my contemplations I only had a brief glance at the woman’s face, but a glance was my mind needed to careen down a new path. She was familiar, but I couldn’t place her name. It took a second and I realized she was the young woman from the Halloween store. If she was here, she was probably part of the prank also.

“Hey,” I called out turning to catch her. She stopped just short of the door, a good six feet higher than my current step. My eyes naturally raised up her legs, towards her head, but stopped dead at her bottom.

The costume was a standard over-sexualized version of the storybook character, complete with a low cut blouse on the top and extra short skirt on the bottom. The flare of her petticoats, and my low vantage point, provided me a sight straight up the back of her dress, to the underlying white nylon panties. Her panties do not hold my attention like the two crimson globes sticking out of the undergarment.

Ms. Bo Peep turned around and blushed, instantly recognizing me. “Oh, hi.”

Now that I had stopped her I had no idea where to take the conversation. I wanted information about what ever prank they were pulling, but I couldn’t just come out and ask about it, so I went for the next best thing. “You were in the Halloween store this morning,” I accused while climbing a up towards her.

“Yea,” she mumbled, twisting her patent leather clad right foot in the carpeting. “You saw, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. Who was that woman with you? Your mother?”

“Yea..” she mumbled, still avoiding eye contact.

“I just can’t believe she would spank you at your age, or that you would allow it!”

“Well, I did deserve it,” she admitted, looking up, towards my face.

“What? Your a grown woman. You don’t deserve to be spanked like a kid.”

“Sometimes I do. I don’t like it but its ok.”

“It’s OK? Your as bad as the rest of them. Retrying to convince me spanking an adult is fine.”

“Who are you talking about?” she asked with biggest fake puzzled look I had ever seen.

“You know, Brittany, Bethany, Jake, all of them. Brittany told me everything earlier. She said..”

“Bethany is spanked too!” She cut me off, covering her mouth in shock. This time it looked considerably more real than the last expression. “Wow, I didn’t know,” she said behind her hand.

“You didn’t know?”

“No….” she said.

“Then you aren’t in on the prank?”

“What prank?”

“Oh…” Now I was thoroughly confused. If she wasn’t in on the prank, why would she show me her spanked bottom, twice? “Then why were you half-naked in the dressing room?”

“Ah…because mom had just spanked me for wanting that silly leopard costume. I had been a brat towards her all morning and the fit I threw about the costume was the last straw. Sometimes it’s the only way I listen to reason. It really wasn’t that bad, more embarrassing because you heard me get it than painful.”

“But your bottom, it’s still an angry red.”

“Oh, yea…” She started blushing deeply again. “That was for this month’s credit card bill.”

I stared at her, waiting for more details.

“I’m still in college, Bethany and I are actually in the same Master’s program, so I live with my parents and they help financially while I finish my schooling. When Dad found out I maxed out my credit card eating out, he hit the roof. And his belt on my bottom.”

This time I covered my mouth in shock. “Ouch!” I mumbled.

“Yea, ouch big time. But it’s better than destroying the good relationship I have with my parents.”

“I guess. But then why are you here?” The obvious question to anyone recently punished.

“Bethany had asked me to help her with the catering, so it was fine with my parents. Normally I’d be grounded for rest of the day, but work takes precedent to punishments.” she smiled halfheartedly.

“Catering! That’s why the other girl was here!” I said realizing why the girl from TV would be at the party also. She must work for Bethany’s little catering business. “Well thank you for the information, and sorry about being spanked. I promise I won’t tell anyone, but I need to go find my husband.”

“Thanks,” she said, eager to leave our conversation.

Everything was starting to make sense. Brittany was using Bethany’s employees to trick me into getting spanked. I bet the next phase of their plan was to occur in the basement. Probably some trap to get me ‘into trouble’ and provide a reason. Well I’ll show them. They can’t spring their trap if I’m not here. I’ll grab Adam and we’ll head home. I’ll probably have to promise sex though. Ah, so what, it was worth avoiding the humiliation.

Just like Bo-Peep had said, half a dozen guys were standing around the pool table, drinking beers. Adam saw me as soon as I entered the room and with a wag of the finger, he came straight over to me.

“Honey, come on, I want to go home!” I made my best big puppy-dog eyes at him. They normally worked when I wanted something.

“Hu? why, it’s early.” Adam turned to look at the guys, who were making some kind of ruckus.

“Please?”

“Ah, honey,” He tossed back the last of his beer. “In a little bit.”

“But I want to go NOW!,” I whined.

“Well, once I finish this game. Rick and I are tied two-games a piece with Jake and Greg. We only got one more ball to win.”

“Jake?”

“Yea, Bethany’s fiance. The guy there in the batman costume. The four of us have been down here playing since we arrived.”

“The whole time?” I asked. Had they really lured Adam into their plot?

“Yea, why?” Adam asked, clearly confused. He was horrible at lying to me, and tonight, being well plied with alcohol was no exception.

“Hey, Adam, it’s your shot!” Rick called out before I could come up with some answer.

“Don’t worry, it’ll just take me a minute to win and then we can go.” Adam kissed me on the forehead and returned to the pool table.

Was this the trap? What was going to happen? I fidgeted the whole minute and a half it took Adam to sink the winning shot. They were here somewhere and I wanted to escape before whatever happened.

We just about made it out the door when we ran into Brittany and Bethany coming down from upstairs.

“You guys leaving?” Brittany asked.

“Yea, we are heading out.” Adam said, as nonchalantly as he could.

“Well I hope you liked the party.”

“It was a great party.” Adam complemented. “You out do yourselves every year.”

“Yea, great party,” I told Brittany, then added for Bethany, “You did a great job catering. Your employees were also really nice.” I leaned close to whisper, “And I won’t say anything about what I saw earlier.”

“Say anything? Employees? What are you talking about?” Bethany responded.

“You know, the football player and Bo-Peep?”

“Who? All my staff are at different parties. I’m here by myself tonight.”

“Oh, I must’ve been mistaken.”

We said our goodbyes and were off into the cool night air. The way Adam walked, something seemed to be bothering him.

“Why was it so important we leave early?” Adam asked

“Oh nothing,” I mumbled. “I just wanted to go.”

“It was quite rude though,” Adam let his annoyance with me come through in his tone.

“Sorry,” I apologized. He was right. He was always right when it came to us. It was one of those things I loved to hate about him. He always thought first, and acted second. Every argument we ever had as a couple was my stubbornness versus his, his, his correctness?

Nothing else was said until we safely home and in our bedroom. The whole walk my emotions were eating me up inside. How I had been a complete bitch to him ever since he mentioned the Halloween party 2 weeks ago. The complaining about the costume, and then getting us to leave early. His favorite holiday, and I had completely ruined it.

I’m such a bad wife.

Five words that went around and around in my head as I climbed the steps to our bedroom. Each word stabbing itself into my heart, the exorcise the pound of flesh it was rightfully owed. Twenty three steps and five words were all it took to make me feel worst than I had ever felt in my life.

I had to get rid of the pain, and now. But how?

One answer instantly filled my mind, barring everything else. It was extreme, but it would work. Wouldn’t it?

“Can we talk?” I ask Adam hesitantly once we were in the bedroom.

“What’s wrong now?” Adam sighed as he tossed his cape, wig and beard onto my makeup stand chair. He had already ditched the hat to the same chair, leaving him just dressed in the long white robe.

“Sit down please,” I asked, gesturing towards the bed. I bit my lower lip as he followed my instructions, sitting on the edge of the bed directly in front of me. Should I really do this? Could I do it?

“Yes?” he asked. I felt so small and he looked so large and regal in that flowing white robe. Wise and all knowing, like a King or a Bishop. Oddly, that put me slightly at ease.

I blinked once and just let my emotions flow. “I had a long talk with Brittany and Bethany tonight and I want to apologize for my bitchiness over the last week.” I looked at his lap the whole time. Maybe Bethany didn’t get spanked tonight, but the discussion with Brittany surely happened.

“Week?” Adam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine, the past month,” I mumbled. “They. hmmmmm, they enlightened me to a better way for us to deal with our disagreements, and hmmm, and I think we should start using their model.”

“Ah OK.”

I couldn’t think of anyway to say what I wanted to say. It was like my entire vocabulary had been reduced to that of a kindergartener. “I need spanking” was all I could think of but it sounded so wrong, and childish.

“Honey?” Adam asked.

“I, hmmm, I, hmmmm.” Still unable to articulate my thoughts, I simply went for the action route. Actions are supposed to speak volumes.

I took a half a step to my left, then turned and laid myself over Adam’s outstretched knees. At that moment I realized how awkward and uncomfortable it is to lay over someone’s lap. I kept teetering between having my hands, or my feet flat on the floor, never both.

“Ah,” I could hear him stuttered. What was he waiting for? Isn’t he just supposed to start swatting my bottom?

“Aren’t you going to spank me?” I asked quietly. Hadn’t Rick ever told him about he and Brittany?

“What?” Adam asked.

“You can spank me,” I said again, this time a bit louder.

“What do you mean, spank you?”

“Like Rick does to Brittany or Jake to Bethany.” Doesn’t he know how embarrassing this is for me.

“What are you talking about?”

Did he really not know? How could he not know? Rick and him are best friend. “Rick spanks Brittany when she is naughty, like I have been towards you.” I could hear him gasp at that revelation. He really didn’t know about their arrangement.

I started to push myself up, off his lap when a hand gently pushed my shoulders back down.

“Hold on there a moment. Help me understand this, Brittany is spanked when she is naughty and now you are jealous?”

“No, I’m not jealous. I…I just want us to be happier, like them.”

“And you think spanking is the key to happiness?”

“No,” I immediately responded, though it felt awful wrong to lie at this moment. “Well….partially. Maybe it is what we are missing.”

“OK, then we will put this to rest right now.” I wish I would have caught the annoyance in his voice, but my stubbornness had become focused on achieving the goal of a spanking. I know, a crazy goal, but can be stubborn to a fault.

The first swat didn’t seem too bad. A light tingling sensation, really. The next few slowly increased to a slight sting, but were far from unbearable.

Maybe it was my lack of response, or Adam was starting to get into it, but the spanks became harder and harder until a strong one surprised a yelp out of me.

Adam paused for a moment, most likely to see if I would complain. I wanted to say it was too hard, but for some reason the harder spank had felt better than the tentative ones. More emotionally freeing than those gentle pats.

The spanks began to rain down again, this time with my unspoken consent, Adam was putting some force behind his hand. Force that I am sure he knew I was feeling. Each spank imparted a crisp sting to my skin, cause me to yelp with most every one.

Soon, I could feel the fire he was building on my bottom. Individual stingy spanks had blended together into a constant fire, much like how my yelps blended into a low continuous sob.

All the emotions I felt over the past day, week, month came flooding back. The snarky comments. The thoughtless actions. The blatant bitchiness. Everything was there, and everything was getting burnt away by the fire Adam was creating. I could have swore my cries of distress where just fueling Adam’s arm, fore every swat seemed stronger, and harder, yet more freeing than the previous.

I plead for forgiveness and the swats kept coming. I promised to be good, and the fire kept building. I begged him to stop, and the flow of tears increased.

At some point all the negative emotions that had been building inside me had flowed out through my tears along with all the energy I had to resist that spanking. And then it was over.

Adam eased me up and wrapped me in his arms while I buried my face into his chest. He felt so warm, not like the hot sun that my bottom currently feels, but like a cozy cabin on a cold winter day. Everything beyond his embrace is just an icy abyss. Within, was his caring, his thoughtfulness, his compassion, all that makes up his love for me. It was so warm and peaceful. Everything was alright.

I do not remember falling asleep, just waking up the next day, still holding my man, though carefully tucked below our covers. The room felt oddly cool at moment, but Adam was nice and warm. I never wanted to let him go. He was mine, and I would be his, forever and ever.

It was nearly noon before we made it out of the bedroom. It felt a little late for breakfast, but we were both hungry. I went for a yogurt cup while Adam went straight for the remaining pumpkin pie. Normally I would chide him for such an unhealthy choice, but this morning it seemed petty of me.

The expression Adam made after his first bite was priceless. It was some crazy mixture of him eating a lemon and bitters. I couldn’t help but laugh at the clearly unpleasant taste.

“Ewe. What did you put in this?”

“Just the normal stuff, pumpkin, spice, cinnamon, condensed milk, nutmeg, eggs.”

“Did you forget the sugar?”

“Hhmmm…” Shit I forgot the sugar. Flipping the yogurt covered spoon over in my mouth, I slowly licked it cleaned while I thought of a response. My normally sharp wit fled my mind like it was on fire. “Nooo, but….”

“But you weren’t thinking or you intentionally sabotaged the pies?” Adam paused for a moment. “Either way, we should deal with this naughtiness right away. The wooden spoon seems appropriate.”

Wooden Spoon!? Where did he get that idea from? I never said anything about a wooden spoon.

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.