Halloween Pranks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Collections

The beat reverberated throughout the club, imparting a life through the dance floor. Bodies twisted to the left and right, tossing sweat about.

Jerry’s black sunglasses dampened the flicker of the strobe lights as he surveyed the dance floor from his alcove. He hated dance clubs, the strobe lights and damn techno music blaring extra loud, but work dictated his presence. With any luck he would be able to complete the job and be gone within the hour.

Ellie was the third girl to introduce herself to Jerry and his bottle of Cristol. He had quickly brushed off the previous two, but this one was more resilient.

“What? You don’t want to have a good time?” she snarked back. “Then why did you come here and order this wonderful bottle unless you wanted to have some fun? Com’on big guy.” She said drawing a finger to her lips.

Jerry scanned the young girl up and down. Her make-up was over applied, obviously trying to hide the fact she was a couple years too young to get in the club. It was a shame, because just across the border she could’ve gotten into any club she wanted, legally. He didn’t dwell on the issue, working down her body to the outfit which screamed something between slut, whore and rebellious school-girl. A short-sleeve white blouse was tied up under her bust, accentuating her cleavage while allowing the black lace of her push-up bra to peak out. The plaid skirt hide as much of her assets as the blouse, rolled over at the top to shorten it until the hemline revealed black nylon if she did anything but stood straight up.

Jerry knew better but let her sit on the couch next to him nonetheless.

“Aren’t you a little young to be in here,” Jerry asked, taking a sip of his glass.

“Yea, aren’t you a little old to be in here?” she shot back, pouring herself a glass.

Jerry nodded his glass to the school-girl outfit.

“Oh, the outfit is an old one from school. My girlfriends dared me.” She leaned closer to his ear. “You know, to have a little fun. I prefer something, ah.” She let the words hang between them, hoping his imagination was working in overdrive. “sexier.”

Jerry tilted his glasses down, to see if she was just playing things up. He’d seen the game before.

Ellie took it as a slight, “I see you don’t believe me. Order some more Cristol and I’ll show you.” She feathered her fingers down his chest.

Jerry knew it was a test. At a thousand Euros a bottle, she was feeling out his bank account. He’d bite, especially since his client would be paying for it anyways. The waitress went straight to the back once he heard the order.

Ellie sipped the champagne, decided to press him farther while they waited for the bottle. “I’m Ellie, and what should I call you?”

“Jerry.”

“Well Jerry, what do you do when you’re not staking out dark night clubs?”

“Ah…I’m in collections,” he answered after a moment’s thought.

“Collections? I’ve never heard of anyone it that. It must pay well?” she tried to ask nonchalantly.

Jerry laughed as the obviousness of her intent. She was here for his money and he had no problem with it. “You could say that.”

The waitress interrupted any further conversation with the freshly opened bottle. She refilled the offered glasses before asking if they needed anything else. Ellie didn’t wait for him to answer, instead standing up as she dismissed the waitress.

Ellie turned her back to him, cocking her hip to the side causing her bottom to stick out more. With two hip swaying steps, she walked around the small table to the velvet curtains hanging on each side of the alcove. The velvet cloth fell together with a pull of the sashes, separating them from the rest of the club.

Jerry considered stopping her. He was here for a job, not whatever she intended on doing.

Ellie flared her hips as she rounded the table. She stopped directly in front of him and placed a hand on each knee. She leaned forward until her lips were at his right ear. “Now, let me show you, something sexier.”

Jerry couldn’t help but look down the front of her blouse at the soft, tanned skin encased in black lace. With a gentle push, his legs opened and she dropped to her knees. Her hands were on his belt before he realized what she was doing. He leaned forward to sit down his glass, but she pushed him back into the cushion with one hand and freed him from his boxers with the other.

“Ooo, so perfect,” she purred as he pointed straight at her.

“Hey,” was all he could get out before he disappeared between her cherry red lips. This was wrong, so wrong, he thought as his lower mind took control of his body.

Ellie bobbed her head up and down a couple of times, taking his full length in her mouth. She went down hard, feeding him into the back of her throat as she reached up to free his balls.

Jerry didn’t know if it was his lack of a sex life, or if she was really that good, but this was better than he had ever remembered. She knew the right places to touch, at the right time and in just the right way.

She pulled back, freeing him from lips while keeping one hand messaging his balls. She looked into his eyes as her free index finger gently wiped a little spit from her lips. He allowed his eyes to slip shut, trying to clear the sensations from his head.

Ellie used the moment to take a sip of champagne, and then bury his shaft in her mouth. She worked her tongue around the bottom as the bubbles did their magic. A couple more long licks and she could feel his hips tense. She

Jerry was embarrassed at how fast he erupted. Barely ten minutes earlier this girl and walked up to his table and now he was spent.

“Oo, that was quick,” she purred, wiping a bit of cum from her lips. “Why don’t we go back to your place and see if next time you go longer?”

“Sure,” Jerry answered immediately. She got up and adjusted her clothes while he fixed his trousers and belt. Five minutes later they were making their way through the club to the door.

—-

The valet pulled up in a silver Aston Martin DB9. Moments later, he was using all six gears on the rented sports car, flying through the tiny European streets to the Intercontinental. His firm had set him up in a suite there, albeit a small one; and he wanted to get her to his room before she changed her mind. By the way she stroked the leather encased dash, though he doubted she would. The car had put any doubts of his wealth to rest.

She started in on the elevator, smearing lipstick all around his mouth. By the time the doors opened at his floor, she was in his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist. He had no option but to carry her down the hall, bumping into a table and painting on the way to his end suite.

Ellie broke her lock on his lips long enough for him to fumble the door unlocked. They burst through the door and Ellie instantly surveyed the room. It was obviously a suite, but probably one of the smallest. Maybe it was being paid for by his company, she thought.

She let out a little gasp when he pushed her against the wall. She took it as a cue to refocus on kissing for the moment. The grabbed his lower lip between hers and started sucking gently. He worked back at her lips, easing her down onto the side table. She started unbuttoning his shirt but was stopped after the second button. He pulled her wrists out from between their bodies, arcing them around until they met above her head. With his left hand holding her wrists against the wall, he worked his way from her lips over towards her earlobe then down to neck. She let her eyes fall closed, as she craned her head to the side to provide him better access.

She didn’t even notice the click of the handcuffs until he pulled way and allowed her wrists to fall to her lap. She wasn’t expecting the metal bracelets, but she was game for a little kinky fun.

“Ok Sweetheart, I think that is enough.” Jerry said moving towards the sofa.

“Ah, I you want to see my kinky side,” Ellie smiled broadly as she wiggled a shoulder at him as she followed him towards the couch.

“No, I have other plans for you,” Jerry responded as he pulled a manila folder and his laptop out of his brief case.

“What kind of plans?” Ellie said in her lower, sultry voice, running a finger down his chest as she sunk into couch next to him.

“Plans which involve those cuffs staying on you for a lot longer than you’d like.”

Fear instantly overtook her. “What? Let me go! Do you know who I am?” Ellie demanded.

Jerry picked up the manila folder off the coffee table and started reading. “Elisa Marie Montgomery, Ellie for short. Born December 25th, 1994 putting you at 19. Parents Franklin and Evelyn. Currently a sophomore at NYU. Oh, someone has been slacking in her studies. Ten credits short of being a junior after two years. Do I need to go on?” He tilted the folder down in a nicely condescending manner.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“Jerry, like I told you earlier,” he answered, tossing the folder onto the coffee table. “And I’m here to collect you for my client.”

“WHAT!” Ellie screamed. She was being kidnapped!

“Hush!” Jerry commanded.

“No, you can’t!” Ellie yelled, trying to stand up. “AHHH! HELP!” Ellie made it to her feet and took one step towards the door before two large hands took hold of her hips from behind and spun her in an arc until she was facing the windows. She tried kicking, but with Jerry behind her, her aim was miserable. Nonetheless, she made contact with the side of his thigh.

“ENOUGH,” Jerry growled, gently tossing the 120 lb girl onto the sofa. “Now sit there and be quiet!”

“No! HELP!” Ellie cried out, wiggling back to her feet. She made it one step before stumbling forward, right across Jerry’s lap. “Let me up!” she cried, trying to knee his left calf.

Jerry was finally getting annoyed at this girl, and put his hand on her back, pinning her in place. She wiggled and screamed, just irritating him further. He hated when his female targets let lose those high-pitch screams, especially indoors. Jerry didn’t know what overcame him, but his next actions surprised him.

WACK! Jerry hand slapped into the nylon covered bottom presented him by the upraised skirt.

“No! Stop!” She yelled out.

Jerry spanked her again and again, enjoying the impact and subsequent ripples he was making across her pert behind. Her black nylon panties may have provided her some modesty, five years ago, but now just strained to contain any of her full bottom.

The sting being imparted on her bottom completely messed with her head. Her mind tried to tell her mouth to yell “STOP!”, but only a garbled mixture of ouches and ahs passed her lips. He didn’t care as he painted her once porcelain cheeks, rose.

“Do I have your attention now?” Jerry asked, pausing to let the smarting in his palm die down.

“Yes, sniff, yes, just stop.” she blubbered.

“Good,” he replied, resting his palm on the back of her thighs. For a moment, the man inside him took control, drinking in the erotic image presented him. The rounded cheeks flush with color, slowly heaving with each breath. The black nylon filling the valley between the mounds, before going south where it wrapped to every contour of her sexy. She was completely at his mercy.

A slight pain from his arousal straining against her side brought him back to reality. He pulled her upright, off his lap and onto her knees. Then, holding the handcuffs, he lifted her to her feet and summarily deposited her in a chair at the small dinette table.

Ellie looked a mess. Tears had run her mascara into to black streaks down her face. Her silk blouse was bunched up around the plaid ring of her mini-skirt at her waist. Below, hints of black lace poked out between her legs curled below her body.

Jerry took the remote, flipped on the TV then sat the remote on the table next to her. She watched him walk over to the closet before wiping her eyes simultaneously with base of each thumb. The handcuffs made it challenging to get her wrist wide enough, but she managed to clear the cloudiness which had remained from her crying.

Blinking a couple of times, she was shocked to find the room empty. Jerry had disappeared in the few seconds she had closed her eyes. She quickly looked around while straining to hear any noise, but she just found emptiness. Emptiness and the BBC newscaster droning on. Escape instantly crossed her mind. She slipped to her feet and started towards the door, grabbing her handbag on the way.

She got as far as the bathroom door when she realized where Jerry had gone. She froze in mid stride as he starred back at her with a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. Being at a lost for words was rare for her, but the blush sweeping over her face and neck spoke to her emotions.

“Ah, ah,” she stuttered, trying to think of a reason for her presence which wouldn’t end with her inverted again. “Ah, can I brush my teeth?”

He picked up one provided by the hotel in plastic wrapping and held it out to her. She took it with both hands and watched as he turned back to the sink and leaned forward, spitting out the toothpaste.

“Oh, and if you try to escape again, you’ll find yourself back over my lap,” Jerry mentioned as we walked past her, not even glancing in her direction.

Indecision leads to mistakes – Spanket

This is part of the Spanket series. The first part is “Joining the Competition“.
March 25th, 10:47pm

SWAT! “Owe!” Jessie cried out more from surprise than pain. She had been to focused on the little screen to notice Nate shuffling around in bed to give her a spank through the blankets. The spank sent her into overdrive, exiting the mail app and stuffing the offending device under her pillow.

“What did I tell you about using you phone?” Nate asked, pulling the blankets down her back.

“I’m sorry,” Jessie pleaded as she started to roll over.

“Nut uh, I think you need a reminder,” he chided.

“Awww, but it’s late!” Jessie pouted.

WACK! Nate spanked her panty-clad bottom. “That’s why you shouldn’t be playing on your phone.”

“Honneeyyy,” she whined.

WACK! “Do I need to go over to the dresser?”

“No,” she answered quickly. The dresser meant an implement and she did not think he had one currently within reach. Unless he wanted to use a pillow, which she would eagerly accept.

“Then get those panties down and stop whining,” Nate commanded, sitting fully upright.

“Yes, sir,” Jessie mumbled as she reached down to bare her bottom without getting up. They inverted themselves as she wiggled the undergarment as far down her thighs as her finger tips could reach. With his target exposed, she folded her arms under the pillow where she buried her head. She was in no mood for anything more than his hand, so she focused on holding in any yelps to prevent him from implementing one of their newer rules; making a fuss from a hand spanking automatically earned her the paddle.

Nate started with a few quick, sharp swats, testing the coloration of her white mounds. The quick reddening told him exactly what he had guessed, she hadn’t been spanked enough lately. “Well I can fix that,” he thought to himself, slowing his rhythm to a steady pace of mild swats.

Jessie growled into the pillow when she realized the reduction in intensity. She knew the softer spanks would allow him to keep up the pace forever. Well it would seem like forever to her, as the sting slowly compounded into a mountain. She was half tempted to start fussing about, and get him to give her the paddle or belt in stead. At least they would be over quickly, once he started with them. It was the logical choice, but logic had no room in Jessie’s mind at that moment as the fear of the burn from the paddle or belt filled up all the available space.

Nate spanked away at his wife’s bottom, slowly covering every inch of it three times, before his hand hurt too much. He slapped it down hard in the center and held it in placed, absorbing the heat her skin was radiating. It was hot, though not as hot as he would have preferred. He briefly considered switching hands, but the clock caught his eye. 11:04 was late enough. “Are you going to play on your phone at night again?”

“No,” Jessie mumbled, pulling her head from the pillow to try and look towards him.

“Good, now lets get to bed,” Nate stated, pulling the blankets back over her bottom. He shifted the blankets on his side, sliding down low enough for her to easily hold him. He hadn’t figured out why, but after sex or a spanking, she loved cuddling up close to him and falling asleep.

Jessie wiped the tears from her eyes before rolling on her side, facing Nate. She shimmied her hips backwards as she snuggled up to his chest. Two red cheeks poked out from the blankets, into the cool bedroom air, as the couple drifted off to sleep. The last thing Jessie thought was “I am not getting spanked again soon!”

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.

Here’s to you, Mr Franklin

I had wrote this story back when daylight savings time ended back in autumn, but it did not seem to work as well when you set the clocks back an hour as going forward an hour. I had forgotten about it until I stumbled across it yesterday.

“Damn Benjamin Franklin!” Jules thought, washing the last of the dishes from the Lent breakfast. “Why did he have to come up with stupid daylight savings time?” she mumbled under her breath. This common error was just the latest in a series of bad choices for her today.

She sorely wanted to reach down and rub her throbbing sensation which had engulfed her pelvis, but didn’t dare try with her damp hands. She knew from previous experience that getting any water on her light blue satin dress would turn the fabric a dark blue hue. A quick rub was not worth having to explain a dark blue splotch in such a location.

The irony of her thought took a moment to hit her. Here she stood, in the basement of the church, washing dishes while the rest of the parishioners sat upstairs listening to a sermon on God’s grace and mercy.

“VEERRRR” vibrated across the night stand. Jules ventured a single out from the warm embrace of her down comforter. She brought the phone right up to her nose before she could make out who was calling. “Honey!” displayed above her finance’s picture. Even though he had woke her up, she still gave a smile before accepting the call.

“Jules, have you left yet?” Cory said, a little out of breath on the other end of the line.

“Hu…no?” Jules mumbled into the phone.

“Are you still asleep!?” Cory asked.

“Yea, I was just getting up,” she mumbled before pulling the phone away from her ear to see the time “7:02” printed in tiny letters across the top of the display.

“You are just getting up!” Cory yelled through the phone. He seldom used his “wrath of god sermon” voice with her, but the few times he had, she had screwed up royally. “You were supposed to be ten minutes ago!”

“Sorry, I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Jules said, jolting upright in bed.

“Well, please bring a whisk. The one here broke and we are going to need to make another batch of batter before the next service.” Cory instructed her.

“OK, see you soon,” she responded instinctively, focused more on getting out of her PJs and into the shower than the stuff Cory was saying.

“Bye,” Cory said before hanging up.

Jules flew through the shower and the rest of her morning routine. She literately ran out the door 15 minutes after the phone had woke her up, barely remembering to grab her phone.

—-

Jules hated speeding, but the church was five miles away and she was way to late to obey speed limits. Luck was on her side for the first three lights, flying through the intersection just as the light turned yellow. The fourth light turned green a hundred yards before she reached the intersection. She shifted to the left lane to avoid having to slow down for the couple of cars stopped in the right lane. She was going fifty in a thirty-five when she crossed in front of the cop sitting at the intersection.

Had she even saw the cop, she would have swore God had intervened to save her from the ticket, because the SUV in the right lane blocked the cop’s radar detector and the exact moment she crossed the intersection.

Jules pulled into one of the close spots and ran inside as fast as she could in the heels. She found Cory in the kitchen, wrapped in a purple apron, flipping pancakes.

“There you are,” Cory said seeing her flouncy past him.

“Yea, sorry my alarm didn’t go off.” Jules said with a bit more attitude than was needed.

“You forgot to reset your alarm for daylight savings time,” Cory corrected her, as he made a large stack of pancakes.

“Yea, whatever,” Jules mumbled, sitting her purse and coat in the corner of the counter-top. “What can I help with?”

“Well, we are done with the first batch, so you can start making another batch of batter. Grab your whisk and you can reuse this bowl.”

“What whisk?” Jules asked, completely oblivious to Cory’s earlier request.

“I think we need to have a little discussion,” Cory told her quietly before turning to his left and heading towards the pantry located at the back of the kitchen.

Jules could feel her luck run out as she followed her fiance the 10 feet to the pantry. The isolated room acted more like a storage room for extra appliances, dishes and utensils than a food storage location. Cory flicked on the light and locked the door behind them before focusing his attention on Jules.

“I told you last night that it was daylight savings time and to reset your alarm because it would not adjust by itself, but did you listen?” Cory lectured.

“No,” Jules replied, trying to sound sorry.

“And then you forgot to bring the whisk, which I asked you to this morning.”

“Sorry… I will listen better next time. I promise!”

“Well, I think you need a reminder. Why don’t you bend over and grab that lower shelf?” Cory asked rhetorically.

“Please not here!” Jules begged. Her mind was filled with the possibility of someone walking in the door any moment, and potentially seeing her in such a compromising position.

Cory pulled a long slender wooden spoon from a nearby utensil jar and whacked her backside with it. “Yes here, and why don’t you hike up that dress while your at it. It looks nice and I won’t want to damage it.” Cory motioned upwards with the spoon at her waist level.

“Grrr,” Jules grumbled, but knew better than to disobey him. She had been the one to propose this situation a year ago as a way to help deal with her flaky attitude. He had been skeptical at first, and the initial sessions were more sexually frustrating than real punishments. Filling his apartment with smoke because she had forgot about a batch of cookies in the oven had provided him with enough motivation to really punish her. Things had improved drastically in their relationship, which would be culminated in a wedding in two months.

She bent at her waist and pulled the hem of her dress up until it rested around the top of her panties. She continued her downward trajectory until she firmly gripped the wire mesh shelf, about two feet from the floor.

“Ouch!” WACK! “Owe!” Cory peppered her bottom with the wooden spoon, spreading the wacks evenly around the nylon encapsulated globes. The fiery sensation in her bottom grew much quicker than normal, as the nylon seemed to trap the heat in her bottom. It was a new experience in their relationship, and one she would have preferred to read about than enjoy.

WACK! WACK! WACK! “Are you going to listen more closely next time?” Cory paused to grill her after a quick flurry of swats.

“Sniff, yes, I, will, listen, better,” she responded, trying to keep in the tears. Holding back the tears was a hard task with the intensity of the fire in her bottom. Each syllable she struggled to say the word, without breaking down. This focus caused her tone came across as much more flippant than contrite.

“Well from your tone, I see you haven’t learned anything yet,” Cory chided.

“No!” WACK! “OWE! WACK! WACK!

Cory gave her a dozen quick strokes on the lower edges of her bottom, poking out beneath the bikini cut panties. He was about to start lecturing her again when he felt a vibration coming from his pants pocket. It was the timer on his phone silently reminding him to head upstairs and get changed. He gave his handiwork a quick glance, admiring the bright red hue gracing his fiance’s sexy bottom. “Even a man of the cloth is still a man,” he thought to himself.

“I think that is enough for now, we can discuss this further after services are over,” Cory said turning away from her. He was more concerned about hiding the evidence of his impure thoughts than providing her with a little bit of privacy.

The relief by Jules was evident from her loud sigh. She knew this was a temporary reprieve and rearranged herself as quickly as possible to avoid any further discussion at this time. A little flick of her hair and a shake of her hips was all she really could do to make her look normal again.

She stepped forward, lightly brushing Cory’s hand, causing him flinch ever so slightly. He tried to hide the focus of his mind by kissing her lightly on the forehead, as he commonly did when she had done something special. The soft kiss sent a tingle down her spine, releasing the feelings which had been building since the spanking had begun in a semi-public location. The risk of getting caught had triggered feelings which were whole inappropriate for a chaste finance of a minister. “Even a woman of a man of a cloth is sill a woman,” she thought to herself as she gave her bottom a quick rub then followed Cory into the kitchen.

“I need to go get ready for service, you can stay down here and wash up all the dishes.” Cory told Jules, waving the  wooden spoon towards the sink overflowing with plates. He took a step towards the kitchen door, when he remembered the wooden spoon in his hands. He spun around and sat the utensil on the ledge above the sink, right were she would have to see it. “Oh, and lets leave this right here and a little reminder.”

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.