Last week I prematurely reported on the demise of Cutie Pie. Still not sure what exactly happened, but it is back, albeit having to start again. The picture above of Pandora from Spanking Brats shoot was taken from there.

Season and Michael have been to England and have visited the home of Royal Navy at Portsmouth and its flagship the HMS Victory. Cue an always welcome kissing the gunner’s daughter rehash complete with picture previously published here as seen above top.

The other two pictures were taken from About Spankings and Cherry Red.

Chicago Spanking Review has a short montage movie of DC Comic spankings. Incidentally it mentions the inclusion of the only two know war time comic spankings. I assume they mean DC comic spankings as neither depicted is the classic Jane spanking picture from the British Daily Mirror.

That’s all for this week folks.

On Friday I received a lovely email from Linda which with her permission I shall be publishing later this week, also this week, more Magic and a spanking short.

Our story began here.

The Raven
Deep below those above the four women sat naked in the gloom. The only light was from five embers at the points of the pentangle and the caves around them were dark with sinister shadows dancing at the corners of their eyes. The two newest to the group shivered, unused as they were to such a gathering, the youngest had her chin tucked into her chest not daring to look up lest she see some evil in the tunnels around them.

“We are few for such a group and yet we must try,” the senior told them.

In the dark and on such an occasion even her hesitant words took on import as if the very rocks now pulsed with power.

“Please hold hands,” the leader said with more authority, her raised voice singing back at them as it hummed of the cave walls.

The youngest picked a stray strand of hair from her mouth and shook her head so that her tresses fell more evenly for a moment, but they didn’t stay long so that she had to again push them back. But at least to hold hands she had to kneel up which took the weight off her bottom that had been too long pressed into the cold stone.

The Elder waited for the newcomer to stop fidgeting and for the group to form a circle with their hands and then she spoke again.

At first the words were in the classic tongue and all ran into one long stream so that the others had trouble discerning them. Then she spoke in the common language.

“Sister, oh sister, over the sea, come to us,” she chanted.

“Come to us,” the other three chimed as they had been previously prompted.

“Sister, oh sister, over the sea, be guided to us,” the elder continued.

“Come to us,” the others again intoned.

“Fear not the wall, for it is nothing but fear…”

“Come…” the youngest began before realising she was previous.

“…and fear is our domain and cannot conquer us,” the leader continued ignoring her companion’s failure.

“Come to us,” came the answering chant.

Then the elder again spun out an incomprehensible chant, perhaps in the old tongue or merely classic, there were none there that could tell. Then in common she continued, “Sister, oh sister, over the sea, come to us.”

“Come to us,” the others chanted and so on went the song.

*

The raven had flown so very far. Its wings ached now and the chill wet air had begun to weigh down its feathers so that it dropped ever lower towards the waves.

Even her mind had begun to wander as if the bird’s small brain could no longer hold her true identity. Panic seized her with the thought and the raven dipped suddenly dangerously low.

I am nothing now, she consoled herself, I am flight and my one thought is ‘west.’

In the beginning it had been liberating. The land had been so far below her and green fields and towns had been laid out like toys. Far from being constrained she had felt like a goddess.

But that had been… she knew not for time was nothing now but a moment. When and where had no meaning, there was only near and far and her one thought was ‘west’ and that was so very, very far.

But close to death, minds wander, and the raven pondered on the folly of being a land bird over the sea. There had been a reason, a good one, but she couldn’t now recall. An old woman had said, “The seduction will be great and you might lose yourself,” but what woman? The raven could not now recall.

Then came the storm.

At first she welcomed it. The black cloud closed in fast and promised to release her. What did she care of failure? That was not the west.

But then the storm hit. Not water, not rain, but a million billion insects, swarms of them all black and shiny with biting little jaws and wings that zizzed in her soul.

They clung to her dank grey feathers making them black again in a sick parody of what she once had been. But this raven’s coat now seethed with death.

The weight of them alone was enough to doom her, but the deadly mites were not so easily satisfied. Pincers like fire set to devour her and the west faded form her mind.

“Come to us,” they sang.

The raven might have cawed in answer if it could, but it had no strength.

“Come to us,” urged the song.

Not the storm then, a song beyond the storm, and the raven dared hope.

A splash of the waves brushed her and threatened to end her story, but she lunged away in time. Nevertheless, the salt water hated the insects more than ravens and for a moment she was clean again.

It was but a brief respite, but it was enough to gain more height.

“Come to us,” urged the song.

West, came the raven’s thought as she flew on, this time ignoring the storm even as it again began to devour her.

*

The women had been singing for hours and the respite for their bottoms had long since been traded for the hell that was the floor to their knees. Worse still was the cold, which had now gone beyond discomfort and had reached into their bones.

“Why are we naked anyway?” the younger one hissed.

Both the elder and the witch to her left crushed her fingers to silence her.

“We call it skyclad,” the other newcomer answered in a whisper until she too felt the hand-crush.

“Sister, oh sister, over the sea, come to us,” the lead witch croaked even as she ignored the talking in the ranks.

“Come to us,” the other three replied wearily.

They could not go on much longer, that much was clear, even the elder was flagging. Then something changed.

It began with the light, which seemed to burn more brightly. The pentangle, which had not been visible to the naked women since they had extinguished the torches, was now apparent.

“Sister, oh sister, over the sea, come to us.”

“Come to us.”

There was a definite light now, like a sixth ember forming in the circle’s centre.

“Cripes,” Lucy Pettigrew gasped.

“Silence,” Amber barked.

Tabitha glared at her friend.

“Sister, oh sister, over the sea, come to us,” Amber said more eagerly, to answered by the others, “Come to us.”

There was a sphere of light shimmering within the pentangle now. The faces of Amber, Erin, Tabitha and Lucy Pettigrew could all clearly be seen.

The chants of “Sister, oh sister, over the sea, come to us,” and “Come to us,” rolled ever faster off their tongues now, like a rock rolling downhill gaining its own momentum.

*

It was almost over now. The song had faded and could now hardly be heard above the zizz of biting insects. The raven’s flight was erratic and she weaved in and out of invisible obstacles dipping ever nearer the sea.

“Come to us,” the wind sighed pathetically.

Even the song had given up hope.

Then something changed, even the storm that assailed her felt it. The Raven could smell the wall of fear. It was like fire that promised death to all that went near.

The storm of insects began to peel away, tugging at the raven as they went. But the raven was in hell and the wall was a salvation. The wall was the west.

Ahead where the wall began was a light. And the raven gathered the last of her strength. The light would gain her the wall and on to Pandoria.

*

The light in the middle of the circle exploded and was then snuffed out.

The dark was an anti-climax to hours of effort and Lucy was certain they had failed. Well if this is Wild Magic, then you can keep it, she thought bitterly. She had only agreed to join the illegal gathering because she thought it might be interesting and because Tabitha had told that it wouldn’t work without a fourth.

“What is it, bridge?” she had joked. But she wasn’t laughing now.

But in the dark something darker was moving with a fluttering slither on the stone floor. The smell of the ocean had somehow come with it along with an unearthly croak was that of some great demon.

Amber struck a match and one of the torches burst into life even as Erin seized another and touched them together.

The raven was too bedraggled to offer the threat that the dark had promised. It just sat there with its caw open forlornly trying to gain its feet.

“Not what I was expecting,” Amber said in a brittle voice.

Erin looked as if she would burst into laughter and only Tabitha looked impressed.

“How did we do that?” she gaped.

“Meredith…?” Amber asked the bird tentatively. “Meredith Greydove, is that you?”

As if her words had broken a spell, the raven flew up and grew until a great shadow danced among them. Then little by little the shade became more solid until finally a filthy fifth naked woman stood in the middle of the circle.

“Meredith? Are you alright?” Amber asked.

The woman nodded.

“I… I had to be a raven you see…” her voice was wan, “It was the only hope I had that he would not see me,” Meredith blinked rapidly and after a moment more her eyes rolled back to show the whites and she collapsed onto the floor.

*

Far, far away to the west Maiestatis let out a scream.

“The bitch has escaped my storm,” he spat, his face contorted and in spasm. “She had aid.”

“It happens, it changes nothing,” Draken shrugged, but he was nonetheless disconcerted by the demon’s anger.

“Fool, you understand nothing. It changes everything, everything… I did not foresee this, they have acted beyond my sight, I did not foresee this…” Maiestatis cried, then recovering a little he spat through the twisted mouth, “We must act soon now.”

To be continued

Sometime ago I was told that there was a spanking tradition at rodeos that dated back at least to the 1930s. Apparently rodeo clowns would select a pretty girl from the audience and give them an impromptu public spanking.

Mostly this was for fun, but depending on what part of the country (in the US) it was, then the amount of roughhousing varied.

I was told that sometimes these clowns (or sometimes cowboys) were bribed to get some payback and maybe then these spankings might be given more in earnest. But I can’t imagine that even if this was true it would be all that common.

I don’t know much more about this other than what I have seen in the movies, where a slap-stick is usually used and rarely on women. I think their maybe a brief scene to this effect in a Clint Eastwood movie, but I may misremember.

Anyway, I have never been able to find out any more about this custom until I chanced on the above picture which comes from an Americana memorabilia website that had a section on rodeo. The girl doesn’t look too distressed, maybe because she drew cowboys and not clowns.

In the wake of the college spanking post I heard from Linda. She is in her 30s and now married. She sent in this personal account.

In her own words she says: “time might have polished my memory of these events and better shaped them for style. And some events may have happened out of sequence, but essentially this is a true story. I have been a reader for some time and particularly like your stories. Oddly enough I was motivated to write after I read about (and read) Lizzie Baines, but it was the Zen thing and then the college accounts that finally pushed me into doing so.”

*

I think it is relevant to say I am adopted. I was a late adoptee (almost 13) and for a long time I never felt I was really theirs. For the record my parents were and are great and I owe them so much but it wasn’t until I met Ben and his mother and sister that I really understood family or appreciated my own. Not that this is a story of normal family life, anything but, I would say, and I definitely wouldn’t champion or evangelise this as a lifestyle. But it all worked out for me.

I was not yet 20 when I met Ben at college and I didn’t meet his mother and sister until Christmas of my second year. But things didn’t really get interesting until Easter.

Ben was 22 by then and his sister Tamsin is my age give or take. His father had died four years before and I gather things had been pretty difficult, which was why Ben was still at college.

Helen, Ben’s mother, is witty and when I first met her I thought she was too young and glamorous to be a mum. In fact I was fairly intimidated by all of them, they seemed so together. Tamsin in particular was very mature and made me feel quite gauche.

To start with, it seemed that Tamsin could do what she liked and always came home late having been drinking without the least raised eyebrow from Helen. My own mother would have done her nut if I had just done half the stuff Tamsin was doing. But then, as I said, Tamsin was very mature and always seemed sensible.

The weekend after Easter Helen was put out on Sunday morning because Tamsin hadn’t come home the night before after borrowing the car. It was the first time I noticed the least displeasure displayed by Helen towards her daughter.

Even then Tamsin had phoned to explain the night before.

It turned out that Tamsin had drunk too much and could not drive home, which was sensible and at first pleased Helen. But later that day after Helen came home they talked again and then Helen had asked how Tamsin had got the car back so early that morning.

The atmosphere changed immediately. The usually bright and confident Tamsin became closed-mouth and evasive until Helen showed her hard side.

My first hint that something was going to happen was when Ben said, “Uh-oh its crazy time.”

He looked really uncomfortable, embarrassed even.

It turned out that Tamsin had driven more than 10 miles from wherever she had been before deciding she was too drunk to drive.

Helen gave out a huge sigh of disappointment and folded her arms. I remember her body language was scary.

Then she said, “Young lady, you know what happens now.”

Tamsin suddenly looked her age and went red in the face and squirmed about on the settee. Up until then she had been really kind and friendly towards me, but now she was looking at me with irritation like I was unwelcome or an intruder even.

“I’m sorry Mum, look can’t we…” she started to mumble and kept looking at me.

Helen said in a cross but reasonable voice, “But we talked about this. We agreed didn’t we? Don’t make it worse for yourself,” that kind of thing. Then she said, “Go on, I’ll be up in a minute.”

Tamsin glared at me and got a bit stroppy. Then she got up and stormed out of the room and up the stairs to her room.

I looked at Ben who looked really uptight.

He said, “Oh don’t worry about it, it’s just something Mum and Tam worked out after Dad died. I told you things were crazy back then.”

I waited until Helen followed Tamsin up the stairs and then curiosity got the better of me and I went after her. She saw me on the stairs, but didn’t say anything and went into Tamsin’s room.

In the house is a sort of open area at the top of the stairs that has two soft seats and bookshelves. It wasn’t unusual for me to sit there reading while I waited to use the bathroom or just to put some distance between me and the family. I guess I thought I was being casual, but I grabbed a book and sat down.

In her room Tamsin was obviously being told off and it didn’t sound like she was answering back much. Then there was dull clap sound followed by another. It took me a moment to get what was happening and by then Tamsin had started yelling.

I couldn’t believe that Tamsin was getting a spanking, but at the same time I realised that part of me had already guessed. I was shocked, embarrassed and sort of excited.

The slap-cracking sound went on for ages. I remember thinking it would stop any moment, but it didn’t. The swats were regular and quite fast, maybe one every second or two. No slower than that. Tamsin didn’t yell all the way through, but sometimes she made muffled groaning sounds like she was trying to keep quite. Then after a while she started apologising and I could tell she was crying.

Once it stopped I could hear Helen talking in a quiet voice for little while. When the door finally opened Helen came out with a man’s slipper in her hand, but didn’t come out with it. She tossed back inside before leaving. I remember thinking that it must be kept there for that purpose and how did Tamsin feel about that.

Helen looked at me and sort of smiled, but didn’t say anything before she went back down stairs.

I pretended to read a book while I listened to Tamsin crying. I don’t know what I expected, but I wanted to be a part of it somehow.  I wanted to know more. I wanted to ask Tamsin about it.

Tamsin cried for a while and then it went quiet and then a bit later the door opened and Tamsin came out. I remember she was wearing a really short stripy shirt that she usually wore to bed. Only normally she would wear some baggy shorts with it. Maybe she didn’t expect to see me there or maybe she was past caring. But as she came out she glared at me and then went passed me into the bathroom.

I could see the tops of her thighs and lower part of her bottom as she disappeared and they were very red and swollen.

When she came out she said “Go away” and something that might have been swearing.

I didn’t hear but instead of taking the hint I asked what she had said.

She screamed at me, “Get lost can’t you,” but in a really angry way.

Helen came up the stairs in a hurry and went straight back into Tamsin’s room.

There was a short burst of spanking and Helen said something under her breath in an angry voice. Then Tamsin was practically frog-marched on to the landing.

“Sorry,” she said in a really miserable voice so that Helen smacked her on the bum.

So in a slightly softer voice she said sorry again.

Then Helen clamped her by the back of the neck and turned her about so that she was facing the wall outside her room, then she left her there.

I could see Tamsin’s red bottom under shirt and I knew that she was really embarrassed, but I wanted to make sense of it all so I stayed there pretending to read.

Tamsin cried for a bit and then seemed to settle down. She was there for ages. So long that she kept adjusting the weight on her hip and leaning against the wall. Eventually I went to watch some TV, but the atmosphere was a bit frosty and I went to bed shortly after Tamsin was allowed to.

The next day Tamsin came to see me.

She was really friendly and apologised for her attitude saying she understood why I was curious and that I must think they are crazy. We chatted for ages and although Tamsin was reluctant to say much, she told me that spanking was something that she and Helen had worked out between them in recent years to clear the air.

I was still dying to know more about it and listened out for every hint or clue about it, but Helen just smiled at me when I asked and said maybe she would explain one day.

Ben was no help. All he could say was that it was how his Mum had been brought up and it had never happened while his Dad was alive. He called it the craziness and said he stayed out of the way.

I was there a lot after that, every holiday and some weekends. I don’t think Tamsin was spanked very much, although occasionally I got a sense that she may have been just before I arrived. That I know of, during the rest of her time I went to visit she was spanked at total of three more times.

Once I stayed downstairs and another time I came back from shopping and went to show Tamsin what I had bought only to find her teary-eyed and in her night clothes on her bed. She even showed me her sore bottom, but I got the idea she didn’t want me to stick around.

There was one other time when Ben was out that I went to listen outside the door and found it ajar. I noticed that I could watch most of the spanking through the crack in the door jam. Although all I saw really was that Tamsin’s bottom was bare and over Helen’s lap and she was indeed spanked with a slipper. I couldn’t see either of their faces.

I was embarrassed when Helen came out and caught me watching, but like before she just gave a half smile and shrugged.

The only other fact I gleaned from Tamsin at the time was that she sometimes had to stand and face the wall after a spanking like the first time I saw her, only she did it downstairs.

As I said that was pretty much all there was to it as far as Tamsin was concerned until much later. But it didn’t stop my interest in what had happened and I spent a lot of time looking up spanking at the library and the internet for any references. As you can imagine I found a lot.

About 18 months later Ben and I were pretty much a definite item and started talking about getting married. He had a job and I went to live with his Mum and sister, both of whom I really got on with by then.

I think it was a big strain for Helen sometimes to have another adult daughter in the house, especially as Tamsin was usually away with her boyfriend for days at a time. And I was not really used to that kind of home life either.

After a couple of rows Helen and I had a talk about things. That’s when I saw an opportunity to ask about the spanking.

Helen told me that after a really tough time when Tamsin had really gone into melt down and done stuff which Helen wouldn’t tell me about, Tamsin had asked for some sort of help. The subject of Helen’s own upbringing had been raised and somehow the spanking agreement had come from that. Although Helen admitted that the first time had been more spontaneous and done out of frustration. But afterwards Tamsin said it had helped and she felt better.

I remember squirming and blushing my head off but I asked Helen if she thought it would help me.

Helen laughed and said she bet it would. But she thought I was joking.

“Maybe you should, spank me I mean,” I said, God it was awful.

Helen said, “I think Ben finds the whole thing a bit uncomfortable. I am not sure it is such a good idea.”

I said that she had already admitted that it would do me good and pointed out that it had worked well for her and Tamsin. She only said she would think about it.

It might have ended at that as there was no way I would ever find the courage to ask about it again, but about three weeks later I went to a party with some friends.

Ben and Tamsin weren’t around and I got carried away. I spent most of the next morning throwing up in the bathroom while Helen phoned the various credit card people for me because I had lost my bag.

That afternoon Helen came to my room and said, “You know maybe what we talked about would help. I am pretty mad with you and you’re still moping up here. Maybe it would clear the air a bit.”

I was all tingling and felt sick like I was before my finals.

“Maybe,” I said.

“It’s not an easy thing and once I start I’ll go through with it,” she said.

I nodded and she told me to get ready for bed.

I put on one of Ben’s t-shirts and waited until Helen came. I saw at once that she had the slipper in her hand, although as it turned out it was the left one from under the stairs. Tamsin had the right one in her room as a reminder and Helen wanted to leave it there. But I didn’t know this at the time, not until afterwards.

Helen gave me an expert telling-off and I was pretty close tears and genuinely sorry when she was done. I think this really helped put me in the right frame of mind.

It was strange and awkward going over Helen’s lap and I was really more embarrassed than I thought I would be when she pulled up the back of my t-shirt. Not that it covered much as I was also to find out.

The first spank was much harder than I expected and I started struggling and making a noise almost at once, but as promised Helen didn’t stop.

I have to say that it always seemed like such a long time when I heard Tamsin’s spankings, but to be on the receiving end myself was far worse and it felt like hours went by.

I was a sobbing mess by the time Helen stopped.

Then Helen said, “Now I am going to handle you as I was handled, I think you need it more than Tamsin does. I know Ben’s not here so it won’t matter but if Tamsin comes home I don’t want any fuss.”

I didn’t know what she meant but I didn’t argue.

Helen then made me come down stairs just as I was and stand and face the lounge wall with my hands on my head. With my bum showing and having been thoroughly spanked I was as meek as mush. I stood there for most of the evening, although I was eventually allowed to put my arms down. Then I was sent to bed like a kid.

I looked at my bum in the mirror and it was still very red with mauve splotches on the underside. I also saw that Helen had left the slipper on the floor as a future warning. I put it on my dressing table where I could see it. It only prompted a very brief comment from Ben about me “starting with that craziness.”

Tamsin thought it was really cool so when Helen asked me if we should resolve stuff that way I said we should and thanked her.

Between then and until about a year after we married when Ben and I got our own place I was spanked about a dozen times. Ben was only there once, which wasn’t an accident I think, but Tamsin saw me spanked and my time facing the wall about half of those times.

The main difference between my spankings and Tamsin’s was that I always had to come down stairs and face the wall for a good while. But in any case Tamsin must have only been spanked two or three times while I was living there anyway.

Ben has never asked much about it and although he knows I look at spanking blogs he doesn’t get involved much beyond the occasional spanking for fun thing. I have only been spanked once by Helen since we moved out and that was really soon afterwards.

It would be way too embarrassing now and I don’t think Helen would anyway. But I often think about it. Anyway, sorry to go on but I just wanted to ‘clear the air’ as Helen would say.

These historical themed drawings were sent in by TipTopper.

Sammie liked the place as soon as she saw it. It was the kind of house you saw in movies and the hometown cosy feel all along the tree-lined road had broken through her hard LA cynicism like balm for the soul. Not that she would ever admit it, perhaps not even to herself.

The couple who strolled onto the porch were not what she was expecting either. They were young and cool looking. She was at most a young 30 with long well groomed dark hair and looked like someone that belonged in a magazine. He was a little older with short sandy hair and a square jaw that held his easy smile like it never knew a frown. She was put in mind of the Marlboro Man, although this cowboy looked too smart to mess with cigarettes.

The c-word made her wince and was just one of the many reasons she was here.

As the car pulled to a halt the cool cowboy stepped from the porch and extend his arm with natural largesse.

“Aunt Aggie,” he grinned.

“Oh don’t, you make me feel old,” Sammie’s mother simpered.

Sammie rolled her eyes up at the lame exchange as an opener for getting back into character.

“Nonsense, you sophisticated city-types never get old,” he teased, “And anyway we are practically the same age.”

Sammie rolled up her eyes again, this was so lame. She knew her mother was at least six years older than her great nephew Dhenry. Dhenry, what kind of name was that anyway?

“This is Samantha, your… cousin, sort of? I never remember how it works,” Sammie’s mother offered hesitantly.

“Cousin will do fine Aggie, after all I can’t really call an 18-year-old my aunt can I?”

“She wouldn’t be your aunt anyway honey,” the long-haired woman said, coming forward.

“I’m almost 20 you dork.” Sammie muttered under her breath.

Aggie glared at her daughter, but Dhenry appeared not to hear.

“This is Kathy,” he said introducing his wife.

“Kathy,” Aggie said enthusiastically and took her hand.

Sammie folded her arms in defiance to the world.

“Samantha,” Aggie said in a tight voice, “Come and say hello.”

Sammie rolled her eyes up for the third time in as many minutes and heaved a sigh like she had just been asked to walk home on a wet day in January. Then she threw her long suntanned legs out of the car sideways and without unfolding her arms came to an upright position.

“The spit of her mother, with the same red hair and pretty too,” Kathy said with a warm smile as she offered Sammie her hand.

“Give me a break,” Sammie muttered, “My hair is washed out ginger and everyone knows it. And the only pretty one here is you.”

“Thanks… I guess, but you’re pretty too you know,” Kathy said uncomfortably.

Pretty lame, Sammie lied to herself for amusement, which showed on her face as a smirk.

“Young lady if you don’t amend your attitude…” Aggie said in a threatening tone.

Sammie went for a fourth eye-rolling.

“I can see we are going to have our work cut out for us with this one,” Dhenry chuckled.

“Look I am so grateful for taking her in like this,” Aggie said in a weary voice admixed with relief.

“It really is our pleasure, besides, what are families for?” Dhenry reassured her. “What was the beef with the courts anyway? I heard she was cleared…?”

“They never even pressed charges,” Aggie said quickly, “She was just a material witness, but there are some issues that came to light and… well the court said she could not reside within 50 miles of the city…”

“And you have your job… of course,” Dhenry said calmly.

“I don’t know anyone 50 miles from LA and there is no way she is setting up house on her own at the moment. As for family, there are only you or your Aunt Margaret in Boise…”

“Talk about me as if I am not here why don’t you?” Sammie said belligerently.

Aggie had never felt more embarrassed and that was saying something given the number of police stations and courts she had attended with Sammie in the last few months.

“I am rather afraid I took my eye off the ball since Tom left… Fiji, I ask you, he was always such a dreamer. You know his girlfriend is only… sorry,” she sighed, “It’s not his fault. My work has been… anyway it is out of my hands for the moment.”

“Hello,” Sammie said in a surly voice, “I am still here.”

“Excuse me,” Aggie said abruptly, “There is something that needs my urgent attention.”

With some sixth sense Sammie’s ears pricked up, but it was too late to flee. Aggie grabbed her daughter’s arm and without breaking step marched towards the porch with her daughter in train.

“Mom, come on, I’m sorry I…” Sammie whined.

Aggie didn’t speak but availing herself of a bench on the house’s veranda she sat down and hauled her half-struggling daughter across her knee.

“N-not here, come on,” Sammie gaped, her face colouring sharply.

The denim shorts were a struggle, but Aggie was fast becoming an expert and in a moment they were going south to meet Sammie’s ankles.

Before the girl could react her mother hooked a thumb in the band of her panties and they too joined the shorts.

“Mom,” Sammie gasped, “Please.”

For a moment Aggie lamented the fact that she didn’t have the hairbrush to hand, but needs must… she thought and brought her hand sharply down on the bare seat of her daughter.

“Omigod,” Sammie gasped, but the spank was the first of many.

The spanking was sound enough, but it was more of a marker against future behaviour and although Sammie’s bottom was red, the girl was more embarrassed than stung by the time she was set on her feet.

“Now Samantha, do you want to go to Aunt Margaret’s or stay here?” Aggie barked at her by now meek daughter.

“Here,” Sammie said in a small voice.

“Right, then mind your manners while your elders talk. Now face that wall there until you are told to move.

Sammie made to pull up her shorts but was told to leave them with a bark.

“If she gives you any trouble, you have my full permission to spank her,” Aggie said wearily. “And make it count; these days she is used to far more. Something we just got around to lately.”

“Oh I think we can manage that,” Dhenry said pointedly glancing at his wife.

Kathy blushed and sucked in her cheeks, a response that was not missed by Aggie who smirked a little. The older woman remembered just how Dhenry and Kathy handled their marriage.

“Did you hear that Samantha?” Aggie said in a scolding voice.

“Yes, ooh,” Sammie bit her lower lip.

Dhenry was surprised at the transformation. She just needs to be away from LA and the whole sin city routine for a while, he decided.

“I’m sorry for her attitude, but it has been a long drive. Not that I am making excuses…” Aggie said with a sigh.

“Aggie, we get it, no need to explain. I am sure that Sammie and I will get on like a house on fire as soon as she learns the rules.

“House on fire, eh, just don’t let her play with any matches,” Aggie said ruefully and glancing back at her daughter facing the wall on the porch. “She can stay there until it gets dark.”

“That’s in about 40 minutes and by then supper will be ready anyway,” Kathy put in.

On the porch Sammie groaned and shifted from side to side in irritation, but knew better than to complain.

*

Sammie had been with Dhenry and Kathy for about a week and had yet to settle in. The day after her mother had left, Dhenry had given her a pile of community college pamphlets with the pronouncement, “It’s that or you get a job.”

She had considered answering back, if only to test his resolve in disciplinary matters, but he had eyes like the chief cop who had arrested her and so far she had funked it.

The other thing Sammie couldn’t figure was the whole place, both house and town. It was a complete dump by LA standards. The TV was out of the Ark and they had no cable.

“Not a great package huh?” she had said when she had been told.

“Eh no, we have no package, zilch, nada, no cable,” Dhenry had explained.

Then she had been told that the house was a smoke free zone and that included the porch.

“I don’t smoke,” Sammie had said quickly.

Dhenry had given her a hard look then until she had been forced to look away.

“We don’t tolerate lies here either. I know perfectly well your mother has forbidden you to smoke, but you do it anyway, so I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. You’re 19 and what you do in town is your own affair; within reason that is,” he had scolded her.

Shifting uncomfortably and to change the subject Sammie had asked, “About town, what do you do here anyway? You’re not actually a cowboy are you?”

“Cowboy?” he laughed, displaying one of his sudden mood swings she was to get to know so well, “No, I am not any kind of a cowboy. I am the town sheriff.”

Sammie’s jaw had hit the floor; she could see why her mother had kept back that particular titbit of information.

“Kathy is the head librarian in town,” he continued, “No cowboys here.”

“I am one of two librarians,” Kathy put in, “I just happen to be senior. Just as Dhenry here is chief of police in town, but only has three deputies.”

“Rub it in why don’t you?” Dhenry growled good-naturedly, giving Kathy a swat on the tail.

The swat was something that occurred a lot between them and not always in such good humour, Sammie had noticed. It took her that first week to find out why.

Their home was big and solid and Sammie had been given a large cool room above the garage in a wing away from the main part of the house. It was all angles with alcoves so that her bed was out of sight of the desk and she could pretend it was an apartment. This not only afforded Sammie some privacy but as she suspected kept her out of their hair.

But with no real TV and only a magazine she had already read twice, Sammie decide to snoop.

On her first foray she found a paddle, a cane and an antique hairbrush on the dresser with pristine bristles on one side and devoid of varnish on the other. The third item she might have missed but for the first two and the fact that her mother had one like for much the same reason, if Sammie’s guess was correct.

There were also some books with suggestive titles like Sweet Surrender and Her Master’s Voice along with a copy of the Story of O, but they were clearly Kathy’s and on Dhenry’s shelf were car mechanic books and text books on law and law enforcement.

Her second reconnoitre came as a result of the sounds of an argument. Sammie was keen to know that Mr and Mrs Perfect weren’t so and at the back of her mind she was curious about how this might get resolved given her earlier discoveries. She wasn’t disappointed.

By the time she got to the landing where their room was, a spanking was already well under way.

The door to their room had been left open and by hanging back she could see that Dhenry had Kathy over his knee with her denims and panties down at her ankles. Her bottom was already a mean red, but Dhenry was putting the hairbrush to her like he was only just getting started.

“So you forgot to do the laundry,” Dhenry was saying in a hard but calm voice as he swatted away. “It’s no big deal, but don’t bitch to me about it and make it a problem.”

“But you have no clean shirt,” Kathy wailed.

“So why is that my fault?” he growled.

“It’s not I… ow, I was embarrassed and got mad… ah, sorry Sir, I’m sorry.” Kathy’s breathing was ragged and there were already tears in her voice.

This is neat-o, Sammie thought, but her schadenfreude was tempered by concern for Kathy’s bottom. It had got to the hard welty stage where the flesh had become shocked and swollen. Sammie knew herself that it was a hard gig; this from her own experience on the day after she had been arrested.

Dhenry then proved that he was strict and would tolerate no attitude or deflected guilt from his wife. The spanking, which was already sound enough, took on a new tempo and did not end for some minutes. Long before he was done Kathy was bawling like a teen and hugging into him for respite.

“Right young lady, you can put yourself in that corner and don’t move until… well don’t move,” Dhenry barked.

“Yes Sir,” Kathy sobbed.

Sammie watched in amazement as the 30-year-old woman, still hobbled by her jeans and panties, limped carefully to the corner and put her nose meekly to the wall.

“Dhenry,” she said in a muffled voice.

“Yes,” he replied archly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Dhenry.”

“Yes,” he said impatiently.

“Can you close the door in case…?” she swallowed, “In case… you know… Sammie…”

Dhenry chuckled and said, “Maybe this time, but she is going to find out.”

“I know,” Kathy whispered to someone very far away.

Then Dhenry moved across the room and Sammie dropped back in a panic, but he shut the door without looking up the landing.

Close call Sammie thought and then as carefully as she had come crept back to her room, her heart pounding. Her dad had always been easy going and spankings had been few and far between back home. I guess Dhenry is cut from a different cloth, she thought, and gulped.

*

Throughout breakfast Sammie couldn’t help stealing pointed glances at Kathy. And when the older woman visibly winced as she eased onto her seat at the table, Kathy noticed Sammie watching and blushed.

“You heard what happened last night didn’t you?” Kathy whispered after Dhenry had rolled out the door to mount his SUV with all the show of a cowboy sheriff of old.

Sammie coloured a little and shrugged.

“I wasn’t sure what I was hearing so I snuck down,” she said in an uncomfortable voice, “I saw through the door.”

“You were snooping before that weren’t you?” Kathy said with a blush.

Sammie nodded.

“Busted,” she said, “You gonna tell Dhenry?”

“What do you think he’d do if I did?” Kathy asked as she shifted uncomfortably and folded her arms.

Sammie sucked in a breath that she didn’t release but just stood there with her mouth open and blanched.

“Spanking, paddling, switching are age old traditions around here and Dhenry takes them to heart, we both do,” Kathy said gently, “You are a long way from LA here. I need to know if I have a viper in the nest or just a lost girl who gets it.”

“How do you mean?” Sammie was conscious of the awkward void between her and the older woman.

“I mean sooner or later we are both going to get blistered behinds while the other is around, and that means you brat-girl, LA know-all or not. So, are we going to be friends?” Kathy shook off her discomfort and rounded on the younger woman.

“I don’t know,” Sammie looked at her shoes, “I get it I guess and… I’d like to be your friend.”

“So, what do you think Dhenry would do if I told him you were snooping around our stuff and spying on us?” Kathy’s eyes danced back and forth as if she was willing a right answer from her young cousin-in-law.

“Spank me I guess,” Sammie mumbled and kicked at her shoe without looking up.

“And how do you feel about that?” Kathy pressed her.

“I-I… my Dad was kinda soft… Mom tries but I guess I got too grown-up too fast for her… I guess I kinda got it coming sometimes. I mean I sometimes wish my Dad had pushed back… well you know… kinda,” Sammie mumbled through the speech without looking up until the end. “You gonna tell him?”

“No, I think your snooping aided your education somewhat,” Kathy smiled visibly more relaxed, “Let’s keep it between us, but if I find you have been spying on me getting… well then you can kiss your bee-hind goodbye.”

“Deal,” Sammie grinned.

“Now after you help me with the dishes I’ll drive us both in to town and you can check out courses and the small ads at the library,” Kathy chivvied her.

*

It had rained all morning and the library was busier than usual. Several of the foul-weather readers who had taken refuge from the inclemency outside were somewhat noisy and there had been several complaints from the regulars.

Among the newcomers was Sammie, who was fast making new friends in and around the Main Street coffee shop. She had even secured a part-time job there after Dhenry had called in a favour. A lot of the kids in town were impressed that Sammie knew the cute and cool sheriff, especially the girls and Sammie was quickly becoming popular.

“Will you girls be quiet,” Kathy scolded the small group of young women in the corner for the third time that morning.

“What are you going to do? Fine us?” Rosemary Tailor, one of Sammie’s new friends sneered.

The others giggled, all except Sammie who blushed.

Kathy gave her a hard stare before rounding on the others.

“I could speak to your mother and yours Josephine Samuels, I see you there, I know what she would do,” Kathy said sharply.

Josephine and another girl Kathy didn’t know glowed red like traffic stop lights while Rosemary mouthed a silent mimic of the Head Librarian’s words. But all the same she fell to whispers as Kathy gave Sammie a warning look and then moved away.

“Hey look,” Rosemary gushed as soon as Kathy was out of earshot, “They have some sex books.”

The four girls dropped the magazines they had been reading and moved over to the shelf to look.

“The Art of Fellatio,” Josephine giggled, picking up the book.

“Sex for Beginners,” Rosemary guffawed.

Then Josephine squealed in delight as she grabbed a book emblazoned with the legend: “Spanking, a disciplinary manual.”

Sammie felt a strange head rush and gaped as she coloured. She wasn’t the only one, Lucy another new girl in town went bright pink as she stared wide-eyed at the pictures and title headings on the pages that Josephine flipped over.

Sammie took it from her with something approaching reverence as the two more raucous young women fixed on some Chinese pillow books. But she noticed that Lucy still had her eyes glued to the book so she hastily put it back on the shelf lest she show undue interest.

Further along there were art books with nude men as well as women and it was these that quickly grabbed their interest. Then Rosemary found a Mapplethorpe and the girls dissolved into laughter.

“Oh gross,” Rosemary said in a loud voice, her usual default setting.

“Will you girls be quiet, I won’t tell you again,” Kathy shushed them.

While Rosemary made another show of defiance Sammie seized her chance and whirled around and slipping away to the other shelf, she grabbed the book about spanking. She reasoned that she couldn’t very well borrow it openly and it would be easier enough to return; what did it matter if she didn’t actually check it out?

“If you girls can’t be quiet I’ll have to ask you to leave. I might even exclude you for a month and then I will tell your parents,” Kathy said wearily.

“What are we, kids? We are not in high school now,” Rosemary spat back.

But the others shushed her and each for their own reasons began to move away.

Just then Dhenry came in hoping to take Kathy to lunch.

“You girls causing some mayhem?” he said in his best paternal voice.

All four girls blushed; Josephine and Rosemary even fluttered their eyelashes.

“No Sir,” they giggled.

“Hi Sammie, how is your course hunting going? And anyway, shouldn’t you be at work?” Dhenry said.

“Oh eh, hi… it’s okay… I don’t work today,” Sammie stuttered.

Under his hard eyes, his smile was easy, but a slight frown touched his brow as looked them over. Maybe it was just the innocent guilt of meeting the law but all four shifted uneasily and backed away towards the door even as they continued to giggle.

One step beyond the barrier the alarm sounded.

“Hold up there,” Dhenry called over, he could see at once the look of panic that marred Sammie’s face.

The girls looked bored as they rolled their eyes up at the checkout desk; everyone but Sammie that was. She wondered if she looked as sick as she felt.

Kathy quickly searched their bags, puzzled at the lack of evidence. Then she saw Sammie’s face and the fact that Dhenry had already singled her out for attention. Oh Sammie, what have you done, she thought?

As Kathy looked in Sammie’s bag she saw at once what the issue was. She hastily swiped it with the barcode reader without removing it and then quickly stamped it.

“You must have forgotten,” she said quickly.

Dhenry leaned forward at grabbed the bag before she could close it and stole a glance. He exchanged a look with Kathy.

“Must have,” Dhenry said in a growl.

The others missed it, but Sammie wanted the ground to open up and swallow her down to hell.

“I’ll talk to you later young lady,” Dhenry said quietly.

*

Sammie didn’t quite know what to expect. The embarrassment of being caught with an erotic book was quite bad enough but her immediate emotion had been one of relief that Kathy had quietly validated it instead of causing a scene. Now that she made her way home she wondered how she was going to face them. Dhenry was the law for heaven’s sake, and she rolled up her eyes at her own stupidity, how would it have looked if she had been arrested?

Then as she got nearer the house the feeling of disconnect and an overwhelming assault of butterflies was augmented as she recalled Dhenry’s words, “I’ll talk to you later young lady.”

He couldn’t possibly mean…?

As she reached the end of the drive Dhenry’s SUV swung in off the road and went past her. She noticed he didn’t as much as look in her direction and she wondered if this was a sign that he was mad.

By the time she reached the house Dhenry was waiting on the porch with an opened beer.

“About this time I like to unwind with a brew,” he said in a casual tone, but there was an edge to his voice.

She stopped and regarded him sheepishly, maybe it was alright and he really didn’t have a problem with her.

“But then a chore crops up and sometimes the beer has to wait,” he continued as he set the bottle down on the rail where it was shady.

“I could use a beer myself,” Sammie ventured.

“Oh I bet you could, but that really is not going to happen, not in this house. Not until you are 21.” He sounded a little pissed now, she thought.

“I guess not,” she whispered.

Normally she would have told him she had plenty of beer back in LA and what was the big deal. But just then she sensed that this wasn’t time to test his resolve or the extent of the disciplinary waters.

“So, do you want to wait until Kathy comes home or do you want to get it over with?” he drawled.

She swallowed and wondered if she knew what he meant. She certainly hoped not.

“What do you mean?” It was a nervous breath.

“Are you testing me young lady? You know perfectly well what you have coming,” he growled.

“No I… please can’t we talk about this? Is this about the…” She didn’t finish as she was suddenly aware of the weight of the book in her bag and she hefted it in his direction.

“Oh we can talk about it sure enough. We can talk about theft. We can talk about deception. We can talk about stealing from family and the folks of this town. We can even talk about why on Earth you would want an unsuitable book like that in the first place. Shall I go on?”

Dhenry folded his arms and leaned back a little as if to get a good look at the woman who lived in his house.

Only she didn’t exactly feel like a woman right then. The years were escaping her even as she hopped awkwardly from foot to foot. Sixteen would be a stretch just then.

“No,” she mumbled and looked at the floor. “Look, I meant to bring it back, I just wanted to… you know, look at it.”

“And you couldn’t just take it out like a normal person?” he accused.

“I… I was embarrassed,” she admitted.

“I am not surprised. Wanted to do some research on how we handle treacherous little thieves around here did you?”

“No I… I really didn’t mean to… I was just curious and…” she fell silent.

Dhenry sighed.

“Look I know what you thought and didn’t think, mostly didn’t think would be my guess. If I thought you had any real malice then we wouldn’t be having this discussion and you would be packing your bags,” he said. “And that brings us back to my question. You want to wait or get it over with?”

“Wait…? I… I don’t…”

“Let’s make this real simple,” he said sharply. “You can go and stand on the porch where your mom put you that first day. We’ll see what Kathy thinks when she gets home.”

“Out here on the porch? I mean that’s something that we don’t usually… it was just that one time,” Sammie blustered through a crimson face. “I mean… time out is for little kids.”

“This ain’t exactly a time out,” Dhenry growled. “It’s corner time pure and simple. Now get and do as you’re told.”

Sammie swallowed and tried to gather some dignity. Then with an effort she put one foot in front of the other and walked up the porch steps. Once there she tossed the bag into the swing seat and leaned against the wall sideways on.

“If you don’t mind me young lady, I am going to paddle your rear end raw and then when Kathy gets home you’ll get a switching too.” Dhenry faced her down worse than any city tough she usually tried to avoid.

“But I…”

“Turn and face the wall as you were before. Exactly how you were before with your skinnies and panties at your ankles and be quick about it,” Dhenry rasped at her in a controlled snap just below a yell.

“Ooh,” Sammie wailed, but she was suddenly cowed and hastened to obey.

She was mortified that he could see her bare behind. And then risking a glance over her shoulder, she was even more mortified that he wasn’t even looking at her, but drinking his beer and gazing at the early evening horizon.

*

The sun was low in a fiery sky as Kathy pulled off the road and onto the drive. The white-washed house and picket fences were all bathed in a warm orange glow and draped in long shadows from the trees lining the lane that bordered the property.

As soon as she made the turn she could see Dhenry and Sammie standing on the porch, but it took a moment longer to realise that the latter was facing the wall by the swing seat next to the door. The rail obscured everything below the girl’s waist, but as Kathy stepped from the car she spied that Sammie’s denims and panties were bunched at her ankles and the girl was definitely doing corner time.

Her predicament wouldn’t be obvious from the road but she doubted that Sammie realised that or that it would be much comfort if she had.

“I thought…” Kathy murmured; she could see now that as yet Sammie had been left unspanked.

“It seems our little thief wanted to stall some, so I gave her some time to think about it,” Dhenry explained and took another swig of beer. The chill had left it, but he had tried to string it out nonetheless so as to have only the one before did what he had to do.

“Oh Dhenry, she’s not exactly a thief. I am sure she intended to return…” Kathy protested.

“Oh is that a fact?” Dhenry said sharply, “That’s not what you said when I arrested the Bormann girl last summer. She only boosted a book on witchcraft on account of her father being the preacher.”

“Yes well…” Kathy blushed.

She remembered that the girl’s father had whaled Jenny Bormann’s behind at the family barbecue and she hadn’t showed for work for three days afterwards. It had been the talk of the town.

Her father had promised her another good spanking if the judge stopped at a fine and she didn’t have to do any jail time. Jail time for a library book, Kathy sometimes wondered what went through these folk’s minds. Neither had been necessary as far as the court was concerned, but Kathy doubted that Jenny had sat down for a month afterwards.

Dhenry had later showed his own displeasure at his wife’s lack of perspective. It had helped with the guilt somewhat and she could see now why he was angry at her reticence at his stance on Sammie.

“You think what she did was acceptable?” Dhenry continued.

“No,” Kathy sighed, “You’re right I suppose, just let’s not say thief alright?”

“But you agree she has a good spanking coming?” he pressed his wife.

Kathy looked at Sammie who shifted uncomfortably where she stood. Even from behind it was obvious she was blushing to her ears.

Time stood on end for the cornered girl as she waited for Kathy’s verdict.

“Yes,” Kathy agreed, “I am pretty mad about it actually, but I guess you’re mad enough for the both of us.”

Dhenry nodded, somewhat placated.

“What do you say to that Sammie?” he asked his young cousin.

“Ooh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” she whined.

“You saying you don’t have a spanking coming?” Dhenry growled.

“No Sir I…”

“Turn around then,” Dhenry barked.

A shamefaced Sammie reluctantly shuffled around to face them with her head dipped and her teeth worrying her lower lip. As she did so her hands moved to cover front.

“I ought to take my belt to you or a switch,” Dhenry said softly, “But I doubt you ever had anything like you’re about to get judging from your mother’s previous efforts, so I’ll settle for the small paddle this time.”

Sammie lifted her head momentarily affronted by the aspersions cast upon her mom’s spanking abilities, but one look at Dhenry’s face sent her chin south again and she decided it might be better to reserve judgement.

It hadn’t escaped her notice that Dhenry had already acquired the paddle and she wasn’t so sure it was all that small.

“Any final words?” Dhenry asked; he included Kathy with his eyes.

“No Sir,” Sammie’s voice was on the very edge of panic.

Kathy shook her head. It was going to be strange seeing Dhenry spank another girl.

Dhenry took her by the arm and guided Sammie’s shuffling steps towards him and tumbled her gently over his lap. For Sammie this was novel, never having been spanked by a man before. His thighs were firmer than Mom’s, and where with her mother she had put up token resistance for form’s sake, here she was truly helpless and exposed across the sheriff’s knee.

The blood pumped to Sammie’s head with the increased embarrassment and pinned down as she was, she felt both lost and secure at the same time.

“So you’re interested in spanking are you, well here is a first-hand insight for you,” Dhenry growled.

At the reminder of what she had done Sammie felt vaguely sick and for a moment and for the first time in her life, it crossed her mind that she might actually deserve this.

Dhenry gave her no time to dwell on this epiphany and brought down the short hard leather paddle with a firm crack that arrested Sammie’s train of thought. Even then it took a moment for the shock to transform into a sting that pricked her behind the eyes.

The second swat built on the first and then as another blasted down as the sting mounted to an out and blaze that extracted a decided wail from the helpless Sammie.

“Omigodfuckbejeezus,” she shrieked.

“Yeah, he tends to have that effect on me too,” Kathy said ruefully as she watched Sammie’s firm young bottom cheeks go from a sharp pink to an ever deeper red.

The swats came in a regular beat now so that Sammie tried to kick back with her constrained legs and bucked up and down across Dhenry’s lap.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God, please,” Sammie shrieked in a rising crescendo.

The sting had become a real fire now and Sammie thought of skinned knees as child, only this was on her bottom. The tears overtook her suddenly and came as great chuckling sobs that rattled in her throat.

Kathy shifted against the rail and clutched at her throat. Her confused mind thrilled with concern but also she was aware of where her thighs met as she always was when a spanking arose. Despite Sammie’s distress Kathy’s eyes took in the tight domes of the girl’s bottom with the two scarlet welted pads that crowned them and wondered if her bottom ever looked like that. But she knew that it did, she had many times felt for herself the hard shocked pads of flesh that sang for shame in her tail.

The spanking lasted for a good while as Kathy knew it would and Dhenry did not let up until sometime after Sammie had begun protesting her sincere regrets.

“Now young lady are we done here?” Dhenry said after a pause.

“Yes Sir,” Sammie said frantically.

“So you’re not going to take any more books without checking them out?”

“No Sir,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Good girl, now you can go back to the corner… the one in the house now I think,” Dhenry quickly amended as he glanced around at the gathering gloom, “You can stay there and think about what you did until I tell you to come out.”

“Yes Sir,” Sammie agreed eagerly, realising the spanking was over.

It briefly occurred to her that sometimes with Mom she had tried to resent being spanked, but today for the first time she knew it was an unworthy thought. In fact far from resentment, she actually felt cleansed and when Dhenry had said ‘good girl’ she also felt forgiven.

“Come on, I’ll show you the corner,” Kathy said gently as she took Sammie by the arm and led her shuffling into the house. Then she added ruefully, “I know it well.”

“I’m sorry Kathy, I’m sorry,” Sammie said, continuing to sob.

“I know, I know,” Kathy shushed her.

*

Sammie sat uneasily for the next few days, which was about as long as it took for her to look either of them in the eye.

“I feel such a screw up,” she finally plucked up the courage to say to Kathy. “I am really sorry I boosted that book. But I promise I would have brought it back.”

“I know kiddo, I get it. I would never have had the courage to check that book out, not at your age anyway. If Dhenry hadn’t have been there I am not sure I would have told him,” Kathy reassured her.

“I… I kind of hope you would have done, I mean… he was right to be mad at me,” Sammie said shyly.

Kathy pulled her mouth into a sympathetic line that might have passed for a smile.

“Well it’s over with now,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, you know, that’s what I like about this small town way of dealing with things. I had to go through months of ass-pain with the suits back in LA before I could even get it over with. I realise now what I put Mom through. That’s why I am glad Dhenry found out. I mean, I think I would have had it on my conscience and so would you maybe. You know, like Mom sort of, you would have had to be in it with me.”

It was the most introspection Kathy had heard coming out of Sammie’s mouth, but then a spanking often did that for a girl.

“So, did you make any great discoveries about spanking in that book?” Kathy asked to change the subject.

Sammie blushed and gave a shrug.

“I don’t really get where the punishment thing and the fun parts meet. Or don’t,” she said, averting her eyes again. “I mean I kind of get that seeing someone spanked is fun. You know I spied on you… well that was neat now that I think about it. But it was just a thing, you know. I think what Dhenry did will stay with me forever, like, you know, it means something.”

“It’s a really big deal when you know you are going to get it, isn’t it?” Kathy prompted her.

“Yeah,” Sammie said eagerly, “It’s like you matter, you know, like what you do matters, even if it is a screw up.”

“At the time it’s a sensory overload that you need more than want, even when you hate it,” Kathy suggested in a half-mumble. “But afterwards you feel…”

“All clean and forgiven,” Sammie gushed in agreement.

Kathy nodded.

“The book said something about the most erotic spankings being associated with punishment,” Sammie said with a frown, “I kind of get that now.”

“You mean you found being spanked erotic,” Kathy gaped at her.

“Noo… not exactly, but the intensity afterwards… a long, long time afterwards,” Sammie said ruefully, rubbing her bottom, “Well I kind of get it, you know. It’s crazy isn’t it?”

“I never thought about it so much, let alone talked about it,” Kathy admitted, “It’s just something that Dhenry and I do. It’s how he takes care of me. Well one of them.”

“But isn’t kissing and making-up afterwards more fun if you have been… you know?” Sammie wanted to know.

Kathy blushed, “I think that is quite enough about that,” she said tartly.

Sammie giggled and joined her in blushing.

Kathy moved towards the car to get to work but as she reached the top step she turned and said, “Oh… maybe… maybe I could borrow that book before you take it back?”

Sammie grinned and said, “Sure.”

*

It was a week later and Dhenry stood on his usual spot on the porch drinking a beer when Kathy’s car made the turn at the end of the drive. He could tell at once that there was something wrong. The engine noise was off and as it drew near he could see off-side fender and headlamp were a mess.

“You okay honey,” he called over, concern carved into his face.

Sammie jumped up from the swing seat and ran over for a closer look.

“Man, what happened?” she gasped.

Kathy sat grimly behind the wheel and chewed at her lower lip.

“Kathy?” Dhenry put down his beer and crossed the yard with heightened concern.

“I’m okay,” Kathy said, opening the door. “It’s just the car.”

“I can see that, what happened?” Dhenry sighed. “You know we only had it fixed three months back.”

“I know, I know,” Kathy said irritably.

Dhenry bent his head to kiss her when he smelt the mints on her breath.

“Someone’s birthday?” he threw the curveball.

“Elaine’s having a kid,” Sammie said without thinking, “Why…? How did you…?”

“You stopped off at the Dewdrop for a beer.” It wasn’t a question. Then seeing that she blanched, he added, “Two or three maybe?”

“Two,” Kathy whispered.

“Is that when you hit something?”

“Atkinson’s car,” It was terse statement of fact. “Hell the old man wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t what, drinking?”

“He was just going in for one,” Kathy mumbled.

“Did Helen or Bart or anyone deal with it at the scene?” Dhenry asked in a professional voice.

“I wasn’t drunk, Helen agreed. Old man Atkinson was fine about it, he said…” Kathy’s voice tailed off; Dhenry was giving her the look.

“One beer might have been fine, if you hadn’t of been sucking mints, which is a kind of lie,” Dhenry growled, “But two, if it was only two, and wrecking the car…”

“I didn’t wreck it, it’s…”

Dhenry silenced her with a scowl.

“I’m in trouble aren’t I?” Kathy winced.

“Big trouble little lady,” he growled.

“Ouch,” Kathy squeaked and pulled a rue-filled face.

“I wait until I am home before I have a drink,” he said sharply.

“Yes Sir,” she conceded with a blush.

She was well aware Sammie was just there within earshot and shifted uneasily.

Sammie smirked on hearing Kathy use the s-word and with a snigger she moved quietly away to a safe distance lest she be completely dismissed.

“You know how I had Sammie the other day,” Dhenry said icily.

Kathy gaped.

“Not out here… someone…”

“You remember last time when I sent you off to the woods for a switch all naked below the waist?”

“I had more than two that time,” Kathy wailed.

“That’s why I am letting you off easily,” he scolded, “If you mind me now that is.”

He pointed at the porch without taking his eyes off her.

“Ooh,” Kathy stamped her foot offered him a lemon-sucking face, but marched off obediently nonetheless.

Once on the porch she shiftily looked all around, especially towards the road, before working the zipper on her skirt and stepping out of it. Then with one more angry and defiant look, she shucked down her panties and turned to face the wall. There were no neighbours to see and the view from the road was obscured, so unless anyone came right up to the house it was private enough from outsiders. Kathy darted a sideways look at Sammie sitting nearby. Still she felt embarrassingly exposed.

Sammie swallowed a smile and drew her legs up into a hug as she sat on the swing seat just a few feet away.

“Having fun,” Kathy hissed at the girl without turning her head from the wall.

“Oh, the most,” Sammie giggled.

*

Dhenry let his wife stew for a good while until he had finished his slow beer. The fact that Sammie was drinking it all in would serve as an added lesson to Kathy. She knew better than to drink and drive, for safety’s sake at the very least. Never mind how it looked to the town that the Sherriff’s wife and head librarian was so feckless.

He glanced at Kathy who stood nervously swaying with her nose pressed to the white-washed wall and let his eye wander down the elegant curve of her tightly split behind. Something twitched in his pants and he had to shake himself for focus.

“All right honey let’s get this over with,” he drawled, seeing her start.

Dhenry eyed Sammie and gave her warning look, which caused his cousin to blush. But then she garnered his meaning and leapt out of the swing seat to retreat down the porch some.

The broad-shouldered ‘cowboy’ cop dropped into her vacated place and drew his wife to him as he did so.

“Now, are you going to tell me you don’t have this coming?” Dhenry said in a low voice as he smoothed Kathy’s bare bottom with his hand.

“No Sir,” Kathy lisped; her eyes wide and blinking rapidly.

Dhenry reached down for the medium wooden paddle that he had earlier put under the seat and placed it next to him. Kathy tried to look back over her shoulder at the sound of wood scraping on wood and gulped.

But for now her husband had other plans. Before she knew what was happening, his great open paw swatted down like an angry bear and she gaped like hunted fish with the impact.

“Just a little hand spanking to set the tone,” he growled.

Kathy had no breath for protests and squirmed under the rapid volley that followed.

Then she found her voice, “Oh, ahh, Dhenry, please…”

At the other end of the porch Sammie pressed both knuckles to her mouth as she watched Kathy’s bottom quickly turn deep red.

“Hush baby, you know you got this coming,” he said sharply.

Kathy bucked as she crossed and re-crossed her ankles under the onslaught, but Dhenry took his time and the hand-spanking lasted a good 15 minutes before he was done.

When it was over a moist-eyed Kathy lay panting across his lap, all fight gone from her body.

“Now you know we aren’t done, don’t you honey?” Dhenry murmured and picked up the paddle.

Kathy didn’t reply, at least it wasn’t the heavy paddle or something worse, she thought as she braced herself. He could so easily have made a sharper point given what she had done.

The paddle was some 16 inches long and fitted easily in Dhenry’s hand. It wasn’t too thick, but had finger-sized holes drilled in the striking surface like her old sorority bat.

“I don’t think you’ll be sitting for a spell by the time I am done,” he said sternly.

Nor do I, thought a rueful Kathy.

This time the bear had claws and the paddle swat had real bite.

Kathy met the challenge with a jaw-clenching grimace. Her red bottom was suddenly invaded by a shocked white rectangle with angry puce holes. But it didn’t stay white for long and the oblong rapidly filled with yet more red.

The second swat, not quite matching the first, welted along one edge and Kathy gave an angry wail. From then on at one swat every few seconds she had to contend with a growing fire that soon had tears spilling form her eyes.

This spanking was shorter than the first, but throughout Kathy bucked and squirmed on Dhenry’s lap until finally she broke down sobbing.

Dhenry shot a glance at the still enthralled Sammie and jerked his head towards the door. Sammie took the hint and crept away.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” Kathy sobbed as she crawled up into his arms.

Dhenry kissed her forehead and then rocked her gently to let her cry herself out. As she wept he traced the extensive welting on her bottom with his fingers, drawing hisses and sighs from her as he did so. She was one well-spanked girl, he decided.

Nevertheless, he was still mad with Kathy and all further reconciliation had to wait until they were both safely in bed. As was brought home to her when she tried to suggest she escape to the kitchen.

“Shall I make supper,” she ventured once she had stopped crying.

“Oh no my pretty one, you can go into the house and find your usual corner just as you are. You don’t get off that easily,” Dhenry rumbled like a bear.

Kathy gaped at him, “But Sammie…”

“I really don’t care,” Dhenry intoned, folding his arms against further discussion.

As Kathy took her place inside for a long stint of corner time, Sammie offered to make some food, but Dhenry wouldn’t hear of it.

“I don’t see why you should be put out just because Kathy got herself a spanking. I’ll order pizza,” he said.

“Ooh,” Kathy wailed from the corner.

She bobbed up and down at the knees in frustration until Sammie thought she might burst.

“You know the rules my love,” Dhenry scolded.

“But…”

“We won’t let the pizza boy see, not if you’re a good girl,” he said with a wicked smile.

Sammie giggled at the idea of Kathy being so exposed.

“Can’t I at least move over to the other corner?” Kathy pleaded.

Dhenry appeared to consider this and Kathy stole a hopeful glance at him over her shoulder while he pondered.

“No,” he said at last, “I don’t think so.”

“Oooh,” Kathy wailed again in frustration. Something told her it was going to be a long night.

*

“So now you know,” Kathy said sheepishly as she took the last item out of the back of the wardrobe.

Sammie stood bug-eyed at the array of paddles, straps and canes laid out on the bed.

Kathy sat carefully on the bed to ready herself for deluge of questions, her bottom flaring a little after her encounter of a few days before.

“There are quite a lot of… has he… have you… felt all of these?” Sammie asked in an incredulous voice.

“Most,” Kathy answered tentatively, “The cane is… a challenge and I have never felt the big one. It’s English I think. Dhenry prefers a good old American switch.”

“What about this one?” Sammie gasped as she seized a large thin-bladed paddle.

“Uh-huh,” Kathy answered in the affirmative. “It stings more than bruises. My old sorority paddle is much worse.”

She pointed at a slightly larger version of the one Dhenry had used on her three days before.

“I felt that a few times at college, my sorority took discipline seriously back then.”

“Back then? You make sound like the Stone Age, you were only there what? Eight years ago,” Sammie pointed out.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Kathy winced as reached back to her behind. “It bruises like the devil.”

“Speaking of which, how is your…?” Sammie murmured.

“Still blistered and bruised thank you very much,” Kathy said crisply, “Well still sore anyway.”

“Do you always have to stand in the corner like that? I mean for so long?” Sammie’s brow furrowed with something like concern.

“More or less,” Kathy admitted with a blush.

“With your eh… bottom left bare like that?”

“Uh-huh,” Kathy winced.

“When that pizza boy came I thought you were going to die,” Sammie gasped, reliving her disbelief.

“He didn’t see did he?” Kathy asked in a panicked voice.

“No, no Dhenry was careful,” Sammie reassured her.

“Not that Dhenry hasn’t threatened,” Kathy sighed with relief, “And drink driving is something that might earn it.”

“Then I for one am going to stick to Coke,” Sammie rolled her eyes.

Kathy laughed.

“Hey, let’s see that book,” she said suddenly, “I showed you mine after all.”

Excitedly both women scrambled for the book on the chair and began giggling over its contents.

*

It had threatened to rain all day and then with just hours to go until sunset the sky had cleared to bathe Main Street in a warm orange light.

“Typical,” Sammie’s boss said as he left, “Still maybe I can get out into the yard for a spell. Need a ride home?”

“No thanks,” Sammie smiled, “Kathy is picking me up in a minute.”

As she spoke Kathy pulled around the corner and slowed to a stop.

“Well okay,” he said with a cheery wave.

“Hi Sammie,” Kathy smiled at her from the car. “You don’t mind if we call in at the Sherriff’s Office first, I have to drop something off for Dhenry.”

“Hey, a real life cop-shop, I haven’t been there yet, it might be cool,” Sammie replied as she dropped in beside Kathy.

“If you say so,” Kathy snorted, “We won’t be a minute.”

Sammie picked up a sack of books off the back seat and began to turn over the covers one by one.

“Nothing about your current obsession there, sorry,” Kathy said with a wink.

Sammie blushed. It had been two weeks since the spanking incident and with Kathy’s collusion, she had checked out the library for any other books to clue her in about spanking and domestic punishment. There hadn’t been a great deal. The Story of O was too hands off for Sammie’s tastes and the Marquis De Sade was too much and rather gross in places.

Kathy had pointed her in the direction of the used paperbacks that were for sale at 50 cents each. There had been a couple of Danielle Steels that were better than nothing and some other pre-PC romances. Then Kathy had nudged her towards the sci-fi section and to some authors such as John Norman and Sharon Green.

The books were all very dog-eared with lurid drawings of scantily clad women on the covers. Both authors had been very coy about actual spanking scenes, but the scenarios were more to her taste than O.

Sammie might have plucked up some courage and asked for some more tips but the car pulled up outside the station house, a small modern building behind Main Street. There was only one police vehicle in the parking lot and it looked as if it was primarily for off-road pursuit or major emergencies.

“Coming?” Kathy asked as she got out.

Sammie shrugged and reluctantly followed. Now that she was here the police HQ brought back some unpleasant memories for her. But Kathy seemed right at home and just pushed on through the large glass doors in front.

Jolene Bates was the only staffer in the building as they entered and she was on the phone.

“Just wait in there,” she mouthed with a nod towards Dhenry’s office.

Kathy nodded and smiled.

“Pretty small,” Sammie sniffed.

“Like I said before, there are only four deputies stationed here. The State troopers take care of the highway and we don’t get much trouble in town,” Kathy explained.

Sammie ran her finger along the shelves and looked about at crime posters and one that said in big letters; “Get Your License.”

Then she saw some files on the desk with names of people here in town that she recognised.

“Hey look at these,” she exclaimed.

“Oh I don’t think you should…” Kathy began but then her eye fell upon an entry, “Oh my God, she never did… I can’t believe it.”

“What?” Sammie said excitedly, “Oh shit, that’s the preacher’s wife.”

Both women clapped their hands to their mouths and squealed in disbelief.

“What else does it say?” Sammie said eagerly.

Kathy picked up another file and began flicking through some pages.

“Tom Willover hasn’t paid his fire arms licence… oh and,” she snorted disapprovingly.

“No about the preacher’s wife,” Sammie said eagerly.

Just then they heard Dhenry’s voice out front and Kathy snapped the files closed.

“Leave them,” she hissed.

Sammie realised that the files were confidential but she wanted to know more about the preacher’s wife. So once Kathy had left the room, Sammie snatched up the file and began to nose through it.

The voices in the outer room sounded far away so Sammie just skipped to the page on the preacher and his family.

“What in hell do you think you are doing?”

Sammie whirled around with a start to be confronted by an angry Dhenry in the doorway.

“I was just…” Sammie blanched.

“Don’t you know they are not for your eyes?” his anger was contained but more than a little apparent.

“I guess,” Sammie squeaked.

“I ought to run your ass into jail,” he barked.

Sammie felt sick. This was LA all over again. Her mother was going to kill her.

“Wait until I get you home.” Dhenry’s voice had an undertone of menace.

“Yes Sir,” Sammie squeaked as she shot a glance at the cells at the back of the office.

But Dhenry took her by the arm and led her firmly from the building with a flustered Kathy in tow.

*

Sammie knew she was going to get a spanking. Or hoped she was in as much as it was a preferable alternative to being packed off back to LA. Not that either choice filled her with much joy as she gulped back bucketful’s of apprehension.

Neither did she glean much comfort from the setting of her dressing down. The porch was too near the road out of town for her liking and as a location for another spanking it positively sucked.

“What in the Devil’s name do you think you were doing?” Dhenry said in a hard-edged voice she could imagine he usually reserved for suspects.

“I was just curious,” Sammie offered weakly, it was lame and she knew it.

“Yeah, I am getting that, like you were just curious before when you stole that book,” Dhenry said dryly.

“You’re not going to send me back to LA are you?” she was close to tears.

“Oh, I’ll give you something to cry about,” he barked, but added in a sigh, “No I am not sending you home.”

“Dhenry…” Kathy interrupted.

“You know she’s has this coming,” he said impatiently.

“Well yes but…”

“There are no buts about this. This one could cost me my job,” Dhenry had never sounded so disappointed.

Tears really did pool at Sammie’s eyes at the words.

“Dhenry, please it’s not that bad, Jolene won’t say anything, but listen…” Kathy sounded as if she was reasoning with a bear.

“Kathy I know you think I am too hard on the girl, but that is hardly the point,” he said wearily.

“I know but it wasn’t her fault,” Kathy let the words out slowly.

Dhenry whirled on her to refute her claim but something in her eyes told him he was missing something.

“I… I kind of looked too, Sammie was just…” Kathy leaked the words to Dhenry like water to a dying man in a desert.

Sammie felt sick, like the time she had frozen back in LA instead of calling the cops. It couldn’t happen again. If only she had listened to Kathy when she said to drop it? But she just had to know, hadn’t she?

“She said not to, I was just curious,” Sammie blurted.

“Was that before or after Kathy looked too?” Dhenry said in a low voice, not taking his eyes from his wife.

Kathy sucked in her cheeks and coloured so that the truth was written on her face.

“It was my fault, you caught me,” Sammie said in a pleading voice.

“I caught you, but not her, is that it?” Dhenry sighed, his eyes still fixed on his wife who would not meet his eyes.

Kathy nodded.

Sammie winced. The gig was up and nothing could save either of them now.

“It was my fault,” Kathy said dejectedly, “I set her a bad example.”

“So it would seem,” Dhenry groaned. “Well you can both forget what you read. If one word of it leaks out I’ll know who to blame. I’ll take the skin of both your ‘hinies and neither of you will sit down for a month.

“Yes Sir,” they both chirruped in unison.

“Now guess what comes next?” Dhenry drawled.

“Where do you want us?” Kathy said glumly.

“I want you both out there in the woods cutting switches,” Dhenry told them.

Kathy didn’t look surprised and Sammie just looked at her shoes.

“Before you do that, you can both leave your denims and panties on the rail here,” Dhenry said wearily.

Kathy nodded, but Sammie gaped.

“The woods over there by the public highway?” she wailed, not quite believing it.

Kathy pursed her lips and nodded on Dhenry’s behalf.

“And when you get back you can both face the wall out here until I am ready for you,” he added.

“Yes Sir,” Kathy said in a tight voice.

“Ooh, this is…” Sammie moaned.

“Deserved,” Kathy finished for her.

“I guess,” Sammie said ruefully, adding in a put out voice, “But LA was never like this, let me tell you.”

“I bet it’s not,” Kathy said grimly as she began to shuck down her denims.

*

Sammie and Kathy didn’t have long to wait. Once they were denuded below the waist Dhenry handed a pair of clippers to his wife and told her what he expected.

“We can’t just go and… not like this,” Sammie wailed as she stood at a crouch tugging her sweater down in front.

Kathy was less coy, but it wasn’t her husband seeing her that concerned her. She looked at Dhenry’s impassive face and then at the woods on the other side of the main road. As she watched a car went by at a lick, although with no sign that the driver even saw them. But still it was barely 80 yards off and they had to cross the road.

“Come on, let’s be quick about it before another car comes by,” Kathy said in a determined voice.

Right on cue another vehicle came by, this time slower so that the driver might have seen had he glanced in their direction.

“Don’t go far,” Dhenry warned.

Kathy steeled herself and then keeping the shrubs on their drive hard to her left she made for the road. Sammie chose to back away until Dhenry turned away to grab a beer and then she scurried after Kathy mooning the house in the rays of dying sun.

One more car sped by before they hit the road and Sammie could see a sullen-faced kid looking their way in back. But he showed no sign of noticing their lack of lower attire and in any case the car was gone in a moment.

“Come on,” Kathy yelled in an excited voice, “Before another comes.”

Then like two college girls skinny dipping they shrieked in a parody of joy and scurried across the road to the relative safety of the trees on the other side.

“Maybe it will be dark by the time we have to cross back,” Sammie said hopefully as she struggled for breath.

“Dhenry will want us back long before then and I really don’t want to make him any madder than he already is,” Kathy said glumly.

“This is crazy, what if someone sees us,” Sammie said excitedly, “I bet no one else ever had to this.”

“I have never been caught, not since I was your age anyway” Kathy replied, but she was smirking, “But last summer Dhenry and I were out walking around here and we saw your friend Josephine out here in much the same state as we are now and I am pretty sure she was collecting a switch.”

Despite their predicament Sammie smiled.

“She ducked away before we had a good look, but it was her right enough. I can’t think of any other reason she would be out here mooning the world.”

“A local custom then?” Sammie replied, feeling a little better.

“It was certainly how I was brought up, well once I reached senior high and beyond anyway. Nothing like it for putting a college-aged girl in her place,” Kathy said ruefully. “Also I am pretty sure I am not the only spanked wife around here, although I am not sure how many go bare-assed into the words to cut switches.”

“If my friends back in LA could see me know I would die,” Sammie grimaced.

“Screw your friends in LA, what about that little madam Rosemary?” Kathy pulled a face.

“Oh don’t,” Sammie groaned.

“Come on, here’s the right sort of tree here,” Kathy sighed; she should know she had been cutting switches like this for half her life.

Getting back across the road was another trial and at least 10 cars went by before Kathy urged them to run.

Sammie was still puzzling as to why they needed three switches each when Kathy broke ahead, her white bottom bobbing in the growing reddish the last of the evening light like a foretaste of what was to come.

The sound of another car was the only spur she needed to catch-up and by the time she breathlessly reached the porch she had never been so glad to be home.

Home? She mused. I am about to get my behind whipped and I think of this as home now.

“Right you two,” Dhenry broke into her reverie, “Get your tails up here and face this wall.”

God, I hope we don’t get visitors, Sammie groaned inwardly as she put her bare bottom next to Kathy’s so that it faced outwards towards the drive.

*

Kathy had no idea how long they had stood there. At some point the porch lights had come on, which banished the shadows and made her feel even more exposed. The only sound apart from the occasional passing car and creak of floors as Sammie shifted a little where she stood was when Dhenry stood up to open another bottle of beer.

That was always the worst moment as Kathy was sure it was about to begin, but then she heard the click of a bottle top and the heightened tension was dashed.

So when Dhenry finally spoke it was a shock.

“I’ve selected the best switch for each of you, come and take one and return to the wall with it held under your bare bottoms,” he said sharply.

Kathy’s heart lurched, but again the imminent threat receded. She knew this stance and it was usually one that Dhenry employed at the outset of corner time before a switching. So God alone knew how long this was going to take, she groaned inwardly.

Both of them dutifully turned and grabbed a switch from the rail. Kathy swallowed and immediately turned back with the switch pressed exactly to the under curves of her bottom.

For Sammie it was harder and she didn’t know the drill. So watching Kathy with wide eyes she blushed at the intimate gesture before copying it.

“Feel that,” he said once they had both obeyed him.

“Yes Sir,” Kathy said in a thick voice; echoed by Sammie a beat behind.

“Feel where it caresses your bare behinds and imagine what it will feel like with some force behind it,” he rasped.

Sammie gulped and a pulse in her head began to beat.

Kathy wondered how long he was going to draw it out.

“Have you any idea how damaging to everyone concerned your actions might have been?” Dhenry growled.

“Yes Sir,” they both breathed in unison, as if a louder voice would shatter the world.

“Do you?” Dhenry raised his voice so that they both started.

“I’m sorry,” Kathy wailed, “We’re both sorry.”

Sammie nodded frantically, desperately fixing her eyes on a spot on the wall as if to break her gaze with the one she had chosen was to die.

“Let us see how sorry,” Dhenry sighed. “Sammie turn around and bend over the rail.”

Sammie moved hesitantly, but the exposure of her front side encouraged her to obey quickly. As she did so Dhenry took the switch and then waited until Sammie got into position with her bare bottom jutting out towards him.

At that moment another car went by and Sammie wondered if anyone could see her and her shame, just as the preacher’s secrets were exposed by her snooping. In that moment it seemed only fair somehow.

“Bottom back a little more,” Dhenry instructed.

The indignity irked her as much as anything, but Sammie had no option but to obey. Then she again felt the switch as Dhenry tapped her bottom with it to line up for a stroke.

The sound began as a whisper and long way off, followed by zip that landed across both cheeks of her tail at once. For the longest moment Sammie could barely connect the sound with the sudden needle thin line of pain she felt in her bottom. Then the connection filled her mind and she grunted with surprise.

She tumbled forward but her fall was arrested by the rail that pressed to her lower belly and she bounced back in time to meet the next stroke.

The whisk-whip of the switch came thin and fast then and as the pain grew exponentially she went form a wail to a series of shouted yelps.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she strained to scream.

Forever after she would look fondly on a mere spanking.

As the switching progressed Sammie dipped at the knees as she bobbed and bounced at the rail in time to the slices of pain handed out by Dhenry.

Kathy had not seen a switching close up for years and with Dhenry focused on Sammie she risked a peek over her shoulder at Sammie’s punishment.

The girl’s bottom looked huge as it was displayed; two red rounds lined with purple scores that raked her bottom in ever greater rills. Each mark would be hell to touch for days to come and the thought of panties against them was just a hint of the terror that sitting down would promise for a week or more. Kathy knew this from long bitter experience.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good,” Sammie wailed, “Please, oh please, I’ll never be bad again.”

Cured then, Kathy thought ruefully, just like I will be for about a month. Then I’ll forget. I always forget and Dhenry will remind me.

Sammie was a sobbing wreck by the time Dhenry let her stand to face the wall again. Now it’s my turn, Kathy quailed.

The cold wood of the rail came lower down atop of Kathy’s thighs compared to Sammie. This gave her a greater sense that she might fall over forward. But the Dhenry had her edge backwards and push her bottom out behind so that she was fully exposed and had a good purchase on the porch crosspiece.

“I am so mad with you,” Dhenry whispered.

“I know,” Kathy said the tears welling, “I’m so sorry honey.”

Then she had to brace herself with a teeth-creaking grimace as the switch burned a track across her flesh. As ever, the pain went from bad to impossible within five or six swipes and Kathy quickly went form rapid breathing to a continuous wail.

“Oh shit, shit, shit… aieee,” she screamed through her teeth.

No doubt her banshee wail could have been heard from town.

*

I don’t suppose either of you wants to sit down,” Dhenry said mischievously.

“No Sir,” they both said quickly.

“Then you had better stay in your respective corners while I order some pizza,” he chuckled.

Kathy was grateful to be cornered inside and was under no illusions that she would escape before bed time. And although Sammie was still gently crying, Kathy could tell from Dhenry’s tone that they had both been forgiven.

Pizza did sound like a threat though and given the serious of her crime, it was not above Dhenry to invite the boy in when he came while he pretended to search for some money. Not that it had happened since she had been in college, but still… she just melted to a blush just considering it.

“You okay kid?” Kathy whispered to Sammie.

She hadn’t stopped crying and it had been a hard gig.

“Yes ma’am,” Sammie said sorrowfully.

“I think ma’aming me now is kind of redundant,” Kathy laughed.

Sammie glanced over and saw just how welted Kathy’s bottom was. It looked as sore as Sammie’s felt.

“I guess so,” Sammie smiled through her tears. “But I feel so sorry right now that I’ll be all Sir and ma’am for a month I wouldn’t wonder.”

“Oh yes,” Kathy said in a clipped voice, “I know exactly how you feel.”

“If you two don’t stop yattering I have a paddle with both your names on,” Dhenry growled a warning.

“Yes Sir,” they both squeaked.

As Sammie got her bearings and began to mind being in the corner she started to look forward to bed and a cold flannel where it would do the most good. She might even re-read the Warrior Within, I might as well use my experience creatively, she decided.

Meanwhile Kathy contemplated other diversions, albeit ones that could only be enjoyed face down on her knees and only then very carefully. But then making up was the best part of a marriage like hers.

The doorbell startled them both and promised just one more sting in the tail.

Please, please, please don’t let him come in both Kathy and Sammie prayed together. I have seen enough of this lifestyle for one day, the younger of the two thought ruefully. One more witness was now surplus to requirements.

The End

How is everyone on this fine (very) Bank Holiday Monday? Two bank holidays in one month; doesn’t anyone in the UK work on Monday anymore?

Summer is just around the corner and in London it finally looks like it.

This week we have a cartoon from Stan, a cheeky picture from Devlin O’Neil, Brandi spanked on About Spankings and a rather comely young lady from All Things Spanking.

Next Sunday is the London Alternative Market.

Blossom and Thorn have a new Book Club.

For new blogs visit My Bottom Smarts.

And if you want more news check out Cherry Red.

The clock was ticking like the counterweight would break free of its housing and spill onto the floor. It was getting on her nerves at any rate. Then every 15 minutes it made another racket with bells and chimes all screaming at her that the appointed time was getting nearer.

All the while the sun which had started the day so nicely, with soft yellow light in a window-shaped puddle on the floor, had grown. It had turned an angry red as the afternoon progressed and was now even visible below the top of the glass as a great red fearsome eye accusing her of her sins.

In the hours that had passed the toilet down the hall had been graced by her presence far too often and not just for the usual. Twice she had been almost sick, the butterflies clawing at her tummy.

I am too old for this, she asserted impotently to herself, I am over 30 now and when he gets home I’ll tell him. That’s it, she decided.

She swallowed the lie and sat heavily on the settee while she still could.

She longed for his arms and folded her own around herself like a safety blanket and rocked back and forth for the scant comfort.

Why don’t I learn? Why didn’t I…? On and on around her head she cursed her folly. If only I could have one more chance…

“I won’t do it again Daddy,” she rehearsed over in her mind.

Daddy? Why did she call him that? He wasn’t her father. Who called their husbands daddy?

The thought was unworthy and she felt sick again. It was like a denial of Christ, she chided herself. Just because it was their secret didn’t mean… She didn’t know and rocked back and forth on the settee to think of a way out of it.

What was she afraid of? Didn’t he always take care of things? Hadn’t he always? Well he would fix this alright, the same way as he always did, but that was no comfort now. Her bottom itched as she thought on how he would resolve the matter.

How did she come to let him spank her in the first place? When had it even started?

Let him? She managed a smile. No one let Daddy do anything. He was a force of nature.

That first time, that first day so long ago…

He had been a grown up and had ordered a cognac on their first date. She felt like a waif or numpty girl next to him. She had been so shy.

“You were late,” he had said.

She was always late. All the boys knew that. All the boys waited for her.

“I’m so sorry,” she had stuttered.

Now why had she said that?

“Don’t be late again or I will spank you for it,” he had said sternly and as easily as he had ordered the cognac.

The waiter even heard him, she was sure of it. And the woman at the next table, but she only smiled. Was that envy in her eyes?

She should have slapped his face right then, but instead she shushed him and blushed.

“Don’t think I am joking young lady,” he had said in a cross voice, “I can always spank you here and now, in front of everyone right on your bare bottom.”

She had gaped and then shrunk back into her seat. Why didn’t she leave? She had thought then.

Instead she had blurted, “Not here.”

That day she would have done anything to take that back. It was an admission of surrender. She could have died.

“Alright,” he had conceded somewhat mollified, “There is a bench in the car park behind the restaurant. That will serve until I get you home.”

You cannot die of embarrassment. She knew that for a fact. If it were at all possible she would have died then and there.

The waiter had smirked and several people at tables had abandoned all pretence of not listening and had laughed openly.

Part of her had hoped Daddy had been joking, not that she called him that then. Part of her had prayed that he was not, but that was a mystery to her then. She was so embarrassed.

The cognac finished and the bill paid they had departed as any other couple. Their exit via the car park was not unusual nor was the slow approach to the bench at the far side. But her heart pounded all the way to it.

Sure enough once there he had tumbled her easily over his lap and drawn up her skirts.

“Please,” she had squealed, but even to her own ears it might have been ambiguous.

It had been a warm night and the swish of cool silk on her thighs as he drew down her scanties had been sensuous.

She was bare-bottomed across the knee of man she hardly knew in semi-public. Why hadn’t she protested more?

A glance at the roof garden of the restaurant across the way confirmed that the waiter had heard. He must have been on tip-toes to watch them. Her face had melted.

The spanking had been hard and sharp. She never knew how many car owners had seen and heard her.

“You won’t be late for Daddy again will you?” he had scolded her.

“No Daddy,” she had promised as he stung her bottom.

That had been the first time.

She had broken that promise many times since and he had spanked her every time.

Now what she had done was far worse. She glanced at the clock. He would be here soon.

But she promised, after today, she would never be naughty again. This would be her last spanking.

Bikers, motorcycle clubs and the whole female submission thing is something that I have come across off and on for years. It has always fascinated me, but at the same time the open sexism, occasional misogyny and even criminality has tempered my erotic curiosity somewhat.

Now it is important to stress that not all bikers (or even most) are sexist, misogynistic criminals. Nor do I believe do most motorcycle clubs endorse such lifestyles. Most countryside cafés (in the UK anyway) are overladen with often overweight bearded gentlemen and their fair ladies who are just weekend bikers with taxpaying jobs.

But these gentlefolks, (sorry guys) are not the ones that interest most people.

In 1947 the American Motorcyclist Association described 99 per cent of all bikers as being law-abiding citizens. Hence implying that one per cent of them were not and ever since some clubs on the fringes of society have often described themselves as ‘One Percenters.’

During my youth in the semi-rural English Home Counties (the populated rich bit that surrounds London) I had the fascinating if dubious honour of working with a biker from one of the more ‘adventurous’ chapters of a famous US-based motorcycle club. He had been given the choice of ‘get or job or go to gaol.’

Now these guys were often in prison a lot and not just for not paying their speeding fines.

They tended to colonise certain country pubs, the kind your Dad did not turn a blind eye to you visiting, but which were perfectly safe if you watched your Ps and Qs. Safer in fact than many town pubs full of Muppets looking for a fight.

I stumbled across my work mate in a Cider House on the Straight Mile. He was surrounded by big hairy blokes all at least 10 years older than me and all with at least two presentable girls each – if you overlooked the tattoos.

These were ‘maybe don’t look and definitely don’t touch sort’ of lassies. So we didn’t.

He acknowledged me with the sort cool nod that came right out of the movies and then made it clear that I shouldn’t join him by looking away. So I didn’t.

But I did have tacit approval to hang in the ‘club house’ rather than the ‘civilian’ lounge bar and check out the bikers without (much) fear of provoking an unwelcome response.

This was not quite Sons of Anarchy territory (not quite), but the clubs usual boss was serving at Her Majesty’s pleasure for murdering a rival club member. So it was probably more dangerous than I then realised.

‘My friend’ had already told me that during ‘meets’ girls were queuing up to be selected as temporary or second girlfriends for the guys. These were Gothic-haired creatures with jeans cut down to thongs and all curves, the kind of lady who turns a 17-year-old’s brain to mush.

I had been given some biker magazines that read more like porn than mechanics. They were full of letters and short stories that featured submissive women who got spanked. I mean more than one reference per magazine and more than one magazine.

I had trolled dozens of men’s magazines for just one spanking story before then.

I came across a girl who told a story about being ‘Owned and Operated’ by her man. It was the heading on a long letter where she expressed her ‘pride’ at having a man who knew how to handle her and admitted that she was spanked, belted and sometimes whipped by him. She even said that her and other biker’s girls traded stories and compared welts. Taking pride in how had the sorest behind.

The woman in the story had had ‘owned and operated’ tattooed down the crack of her arse ending at her anus with arrows pointing the way.

Whilst in this pub I saw a woman (maybe 30-years-old) who had this legend tattooed down her thigh. Of course all sorts of things were ignited in my brain; these were real girls. I had to ask.

The next day at work the biker told me that it was a term used by wives and permanent girlfriends. No other girl would dare have it with being entitled, so of course it was a source of pride.

I asked about the punishments. I was a bit coy about the S-word back then. After that there was some tension and I thought I had overstepped the mark somewhat. Then he realised I wasn’t interested in club activities as such.

“You mean when they get their arses tanned?” He thought I might mean something else more sinister.

He laughed and said that was just par for the course and all girls got that when they needed it.

I wish I could say that I was invited to a biker party where all the girls were spanked, but shortly afterwards he was sacked and I sussed that there were better places to hang out.

But some years later I was watching a late night documentary about American bikers and they interviewed a woman who had an Owned and Operated tattoo on her belly extended down and out of sight. She obliged the camera by showing most of it and then explained to the journalist what it meant.

She too used the word pride and explained that her home life was no different to nay one else’s. She talked about the virtues of domestic discipline and spanking as a tool for a happy life.

“And it can be sexy too sometimes,” she grinned.

I have no idea to this day whether this is a genuine universal custom or a random coincidence that plays upon the general preconceptions and prejudices around motorcycle clubs. But since then I have heard other stories about legal clubs and spanking, with initiations for girls and hints of spanking discipline. Sadly I have no further insight on this.

Incidentally the pictures above are genuine period biker pictures that display the defiant nature and alternative lifestyles of some bikers. You will note the tread marks and bruises on the bottom of the girl in the second photograph.

Our story began here.

The Trouble with Witches
Word that a witch had penetrated the Pandoria Barrier spread through the college like a summer gale. Among the younger students there was a tangible panic and when Amber saw William and four adepts in the Dovecote scouring for malevolent patterns she knew she had to see the Grand Magus as soon as possible to come clean.

How had they known so quickly? She was dumbfounded only a few hours had gone by Meredith and the others were still asleep.

As she left the Dovecote to make her way to the Barbican suspicious eyes turned in her direction and everywhere male apprentices gathered in huddles to whisper at her passing.

“Amber Sage,” an imperious female voice called out her name.

Amber felt a chill at her spine and swallowed down the fear. Then gathering her dignity she stopped and turned to face Maxine Du Jared a small posse of blue and grey clad students who now barred her way.

“What evil is this?” Maxine accused.

“Evil?” Amber blinked back her surprise.

“You reek of it,” Maxine spat.

“What, evil?” the witch said again.

“Wild Magic,” Maxine pronounced the words as if she were holding her nose and holding something nasty between finger and thumb.

“Ah yes, you are skilled maestro. I salute you,” Amber said diplomatically.

“Then you do not deny it,” Maxine said triumphantly.

“I performed a ceremony last night and into this morning,” Amber said with more confidence than she felt. “Matters of great…”

“It was not sanctioned by the Magister. It was a forbidden act,” Maxine snarled.

A group of journeymen of all disciplines were gathering now and Amber took a half-step backwards. It was beginning to feel like a mob.

“I too would know of this ceremony,” a commanding voice cut across the gathering.

All eyes but Maxine’s swept upwards to take in Gort the High Hand standing on the upper level and glaring down.

“And I too,” came a gravel voice filled with supressed rage, “If it pleases you Maestros.”

Dniester was suddenly in the crowd leaning on his Dragon’s Tooth and glaring at the Witch.

“But what are you boys doing here?” he continued, sparing a hard glance at the gathered apprentices. “Cut along to your studies,” he growled.

Despite his deference to her seniority Maxine inclined her head and realised that by not dismissing the students herself, she had breached protocol.

As the men dispersed Gort descend the stairs and came to stand next Maxine so that they appeared as two judges on Doomsday on the half-landing above. Whilst on the floor below with Amber the old wizard completed the tableaux by taking up a stance like a prosecution lawyer.

Amber gulped. She had hoped to have got to the Grand Magus to explain before this confrontation. Now even Dniester was against her.

“Certain matters are coming to ahead. I received word from the mainland that…”

“All messages pertaining to Pandoria come through the college not junior members of the faculty,” Gort barked at her angrily.

“Well patently not and there was no time… she was already on her way… she would have been…” Amber protested anxiously flustered at the unexpected inquisition. This was not going well.

“You spoke of ‘she?’ There is another witch among us?” Maxine said sharply.

“Yes, an associate of Draken…”

Gort seemed to double in size and his eyes glowed malevolently.

“A former associate,” Amber added hastily, “She…”

“You have allowed witches to breach the Pandoria Barrier. You truck with demons, this is beyond an outrage,” Maxine was almost shrill now.

Amber could sense a great gathering of the patterns around her. The air was tangible and seemed to choke her.

“Please, I…” Amber’s eyes watered.

“Maestro, perhaps this matter should be referred to the Grand Magus,” Dniester coughed.

Gort relaxed a little, but the glare never left Maxine’s face.

“I agree,” said another voice behind them.

It was William and his posse, who had finally tracked down their quarry. Between two of the adepts was a rather bedraggled Meredith Greydove.

“The Grand Magus will see this one at once,” William continued.

“So be it,” Gort growled.

Maxine inclined her head in agreement.

Dniester sighed inwardly with relief. The whole episode was fast becoming unseemly and why were two senior mages so keen to keep Amber from the Grand Magus, if that’s was their intent?

Nor did it escape his notice that William had been quick off the mark with some improvised security. He was one of the other mages in college who like Gort and Maxine had Challis connections that had so troubled Davidus.

*

William Tulore stood like a pillar of salt in his white robes and waited for the Grand Magus to admit entrance to his quarters. He was a tall man whose prematurely white hair matched his robe that signified his mastery of the element of air.

Perhaps fearful that his prisoner was too powerful for the assembled mages or perhaps for other reasons, he had not yet dismissed the cadre of adepts that he had gathered for his search. But this seemed to trouble no one but Dniester and Amber Sage who despite her differences with the man had stood as close to the old wizard as she could for some kind of support.

Gort and Maxine stood at the back of this group, strange allies in this mysterious affair. And it struck Amber that even their robes complimented each other’s with his hard mustard juxtaposition to Maxine’s dark blue almost black robes like some great hybrid wasp. The witch had never been so aware that she technically only held the authority of a journeyman here, not even when Dniester had caned her.

The Grand Magus’s doors, so often a venue for polite sympathy and even afternoon tea, now seemed like some sinister entrance to Hades. Amber prayed that she had done the right thing, but even now she could not see how she could have done otherwise.

Before the door opened on her doom the sound of footsteps touched the stone floor beyond the passage and rapidly drew near.

“I sensed a great change in the air,” Fear said in an anxious voice. “It came from below, some kind of Wild Mag…”

He stopped talking as he reached the middle of the assembled company and came to a rest on his staff.

“Meredith Greydove,” he observed, but his eyes shot to Amber. “This has something to do with you?”

Amber had never been so pleased to see anyone in her whole life, but now she saw Fear’s disapproving eyes she could only quail like a former student and bite her nervously.

“Far be it from me to speak out of turn in this august gathering, but can I humbly suggest that we save all questions until we are admitted to see the Grand Magus,” Dniester suggested politely with a curt bow.

Fear swallowed a smile at the idea of his old teacher being humble. Only the old man would stand on the ceremony of being merely an adept. In truth his experience exceed that of those present combined.

As if to confirm the grey wizard’s wisdom the doors slowly opened and in a formal pose Sejanus Jacelon the Scroll Keeper appeared in the ever widening opening.

“The Grand Magus will see you now,” he intoned pompously. Then as one of William’s adepts moved forward he sighed, “Not you lad. You and your companions can wait here until required.”

The adept bowed and at a signal from him the other two men and one woman spread out like a formal palace guard. With them Dniester also fell back.

“Not you, you old fool,” Sejanus said wearily.

Dniester graciously inclined his head, but nonetheless waited until the mages and the two witches had entered before following.

The Grand Magus fixed his guests with hard greys until Amber feared they would all turn to stone.

“I won’t ask you how you come to be here,” he shot a hard stare at Amber, “But I would know your purpose?”

“I found her hiding in the witch’s quarters,” William put in.

“I wasn’t hiding, I was asleep,” Meredith said indignantly.

“Yes, yes,” Davidus said impatiently, “But why are you here?”

Amber held her breath. This had better be good, she thought.

“Demdike Runecaster had a dream,” Meredith said earnestly.

“Oh,” Davidus said, somewhat taken aback and his tone confused. “I am so glad that you could clear it up for us all,” he added sarcastically.

“You don’t understand,” Meredith said impatiently.

“The witches of your coven have mastered understatement then?” Jacelon said dryly.

Amber winced and the Grand Magus looked to heaven for inspiration or at least patience.

There was some shuffling among the gathered mages and Gort began to smirk.

Fear coughed.

“Dr Fear, you have something to add?” the Grand Magus asked, his voice like a sheathed blade.

“Demdike is a seer, her dreams are… important,” Fear said carefully.

“Ah,” Davidus looked on more comfortable ground now. “And you can vouch for this?”

“The matter concerning…” Fear hesitated.

Sejanus leaned forward and whispered something in the Grand Magus’s ear.

“Oh yes, I remember. We will not talk of that. Unless…” he let his words hang on a future promise. Then seeing that no one else was going to speak further he said, “This dream?”

Meredith saw that he was looking at her and she returned an easy smile. But Davidus remained frosty.

“Perhaps you could enlighten us further,” Sejanus suggested.

“Oh,” Meredith started, “You must forgive me, I am still a little tired; the vision yes.”

The Scroll Keeper nodded encouragingly.

“Demdike saw a million wolves all running towards the rising sun and when they came to the sea they swam,” Meredith had closed her eyes and her lips moved as she concentrated.

“Is that it?” Maxine sneered.

“Shush,” Davidus said gently.

“On land where there were not yet wolves the ground writhed with snakes and above them all flew crows,” Meredith continued.

“Then the wolves and the snakes became as men until the last wolf in the west howled.” Meredith opened her eyes and finished, “The three who are one are coming.”

“And is that it?” Maxine gasped in disbelief.

“There will be a pre-emptive strike, probably three at once. Soon, very soon.” Meredith looked at them as if they were all mad.

“We know all this,” Fear said gently, “I don’t…”

“Don’t you understand it is beginning? Now,” Meredith yelled at them.

Dniester frowned and the others in the room looked about them, some with eyes closed.

“Did the witch’s arrival weaken the barrier perhaps?” William ventured.

“Impossible,” Maxine spat.

“It is sound,” Sejanus said thoughtfully.

“The barrier is born of Wild Magic,” Dniester reminded them.

Maxine looked about to deny it, but held her tongue.

“I will consider the matter. For now send word to all leaders who stand against the West and warning them to be vigilant. Especially with regard to traitors and sabotage,” he said decisively. “As for Meredith Greydove… she is our guest, but the manner of her arrival cannot be overlooked. Amber sage you will face a hearing for your part. The witches here who aided you must be punished.”

“The responsibility is mine,” Amber protested.

“Yes,” the Grand Magus agreed, “But unless you want them to risk standing trial with you, they must be dealt with for a major breach of the rules.”

“I did it alone,” Amber said defiantly.

“With Erin Stone and at least two others,” Fear said angrily. “One of those was Tabitha I think. I only need to ask her, so name the fourth freely and save them from further disgrace.”

Everyone looked at him puzzled at his certainty.

“I found the pentangle in the caves, a novice could have followed the patterns,” he sighed.

Davidus frowned. It was a patently ridiculous thing to say. Few of the Magister could have tracked down a Wild Magic trace so quickly and how did he know who was responsible?

Tears pooled at Amber’s eyes and she looked up at the ceiling.

“I will protect them,” Fear promised.

“You’re right, it was Erin and Tabitha and the new girl,” Amber croaked. “Lucy… Lucy Pettigrew.”

“A novice? You were desperate,” Fear said with a sad smile.

“They must be punished,” Maxine sneered.

“I will deal with Tabitha,” Fear’s tone was final.

“Precedent demands…” the Scroll Keeper began.

“Leave the little mischief-makers to me,” Dniester chuckled, “They won’t sit down for a month.”

“Agreed,” Fear said quickly.

“That’s one job settled,” Davidus ruled with a literal rubbing of hands. “Sejanus, make arrangements for a hearing about Amber’s part in the affair.”

Amber knew that Fear and Dniester had acted for the best and had kept her girls out of Maxine’s hands, but it didn’t stop her feeling responsible. Their crime was a technicality surely. And why was Demdike so vague? Where will they attack and how?

“A hearing, is that it?” Meredith gaped, “The demons are coming. The time is nigh.”

Dniester remembered some graffiti he once saw in a brothel in his youth. It ran: “The time is nigh, very demon-fornicating nigh.”

That he should remember it now was very prophetic perhaps.

“Nigh?” Maxine snorted and waved at the air to indicate the lack of evidence.

“Now,” Meredith whispered, “Today.”

To be continued.

I received a decent email from Paul D last week who offered his own review of some of my recent publications. It is nice to be appreciated, especially when someone parts with some money.

Hot on the heels of this mail, came a very nice review of the Russell Corner over at Blossom and Thorn. Thanks to them for their kind words. You can read the review here.

Paul’s comments came in this letter:

Hallo Damian,

I have just finished a reading fest of DJ Black.

The Lanark Island Herald. ***

The Academy. *****

The Life and Times of Rachel Bannerman. *****

I’m not by any means saying that ‘The Lanark Island Herald’ is badly written. In my opinion it feels somewhat truncated, two or three chapters of Mary’s experience as “part of the family”, would have rounded it off nicely.

This novella is only three stars, by your own high standards.

I loved ‘The Academy’, it appealed to my testosterone driven youth; a dystopia/utopia where woman outnumber men 4/5 to 1, wow a teenagers dream. Winking smile

It is very well crafted with a few interesting plot twists to keep me on my toes; I particularly liked the scene between Julia and her Grandpa, and the one where Candy was rejected by her not very nice boss. I also enjoyed Felix, very much.

“The Life and Times of Rachel Bannerman,” a cowboy story with plenty of attitude, not to mention a full crop of bare bums very well spanked.

What’s not to love about hoity-toity Eastern girls learning the ropes via their bottoms, John Wayne certainly advocated this system. Rachel’s last thought was very telling.

Finally, the eroticism was not overt, though there was most definitely an undercurrent, in all of these, in my opinion, just as it should be.

Best regards,

Paul.

Incidentally the one book not reviewed above, Lizzie Baines, is apparently outselling the others – especially in the US where the publisher tells me it is housewife’s choice.

Thanks Paul, Season and Michael for your words.

TipTopper sent in the above picture and it put me in mind of a couple of related, but unconnected snippets I had.

This was culled from a 1920s education review that I found on Google Reader some time ago.

Catherine C wrote:

“…An education revolution it has been said, but I can tell you our training was well grounded in the old world. Miss Marion P and I were well used to feeling the sting of a cane across our behinds in training college. However, I did not expect to be summoned to Mr Neville’s office to be dressed down over our leisure time activities. He even showed us the cane and reminded us that as we were not yet qualified awe were still subject to student discipline.”

One wonders if Marion and Catherine were ever caned as student teachers.

This next excerpt came from FemFirst.

Gwen wrote:

“In my early days as a teacher I was still living at home. This had its advantages and without the financial support I could never have afforded a car for instance. But it is strange to think that while I was writing out punishment slips for the Dean my own bottom often still smarted from a spanking I had gotten the night before. On one occasion I was in such discomfort that not only could I not sit down, but I was certain that some of the most observant of my class suspected the cause of my embarrassment.”

Well it is summer (looks expectantly out of the window) the sun is there (somewhere above the clouds) and the birds are singing. So what does the first round-up of the season bring and what can we expect this coming week?

There is more trouble with witches in Magic and the Spankmanship story is unfolding.

Last week other blogs were active. Yahoo buying Tumblr has some peeps concerned and the formerly open blog site maybe ‘cleaning’ up its act. So maybe some blogs will disappear, but don’t panic just yet.

Elsewhere we kick off with a plug for Rollin who has recently published the Mills Governess on Blushing Books. I have flagged Rollin Hand many times before and he has quite a back catalogue.

On the picture front, above we have Dreams of Spanking, a My Spanking Roommate plug on Cutie Pie, Dallas Spanking Dazey rains via the Spanking Spot and if you want more Cherry Red has a list.

This article first appeared in Russian in The Siberian Times.

New method for addiction at a clinic in Russia

In the depths of Siberia, scientists claim to have discovered a revolutionary method of recovery from alcohol, dope and other addictions. Even workaholics or sex addict could be helped by the new method.

Most are shocked when they hear that the treatment applied by doctors and German Pilipenko Marina Chukhrova, includes a “wooden” rod. Just like the old masters this duo of experts, are swinging a stick across the bare bottoms of their patients.

“This is for purely medical purposes and is not some sadomasochistic game,” Ms Marina Chukhrova said in an interview.

The method appears to be based on scientific principles. The two scientists claim that the lack of endorphins, also known as the “hormone of happiness” is the main reason why their patients, most of them addicted to drugs, suffer. The two psychologists argue pain causes an increase in endorphin production.

“The controlled exposure to pain, addresses the lack of enthusiasm and interest in life, often hiding behind alcohol or dope. But that’s not all, the increase of endorphins through the pain can change the lives of people who have suicidal tendencies, depression or other psychosomatic disorders,” says Dr German Pilipenko.

This was demonstrated to journalists when young patient Natasha took 60 strokes across her bare bottom, which she does every time she meets with Dr German Pilipenko for treatment. (Pictured above)

“Every beating howl and clench of the bed is acute pain. My body is electrified by the shock and it is a really unpleasant experience. But after each session, I can see beneficial results. The pain helps me to understand the risks they expose myself,” the 22-year old Natasha told reporters.

From an early age she was addicted to drugs and hopes that this treatment will succeed where others have failed.

The revolutionary method of Pilipenko and Chukhrova, has sparked mixed reactions. Whilst some psychologists have accused them of charlatanism, there is answering testimony of the patients themselves, who declare publicly, that their pain saved their life.

The fact remains that thousands of patients from all over Russia, but also from abroad, eager to taste the painful and controversial this treatment modalities.

“I get it,” she said rolling her eyes up, “I’m a screw up, what can I say?”

Zoe Frayne sat with her arms folded across a pink mohair pullover crushing her small but prominent breasts. The pink matched the tinge of dye in her black hair, the only visible concession the punk-come-Goth girl had made to her femininity. Her black faded jeans were ripped and the whole parody of an ensemble was covered with masculine leather biker jacket.

“Look at you, you’re 25 and… what are you wearing?” Masterson sighed, “You have no job, you have spent the allotment your uncle gave you at 18, and you have given up on that PhD in what was it… the impact of music on Western Civilisation?”

Masterson, Zoe’s late uncle’s lawyer listed her deficiencies on his fingers.

“I said I get it,” Zoe shifted uncomfortably in the overstuffed leather armchair of the lawyer’s office. “I had to make something of myself by the age of 25 or no filthy money.”

Masterson sighed again and sat back.

“That’s it then, I’m screwed,” Zoe threw him a sour expression as she got up to leave.

“You want to hear about plan B first?” he said wearily.

“I can see from your face that I won’t like it,” Zoe grunted and gave him another eye-roll as she slumped back down.

“Your late uncle Benjamin Romantique was a very wealthy man, but an eccentric one,” Masterson let out a long breath.

This was nuts, he admitted, wondering how he was going to broach the subject.

“He was out of the Ark, I know that, but I always thought he was kind of cool,” Zoe snorted.

“Old fashioned, yes, that’s a positive take I suppose and that brings me to the point,” Masterson leaned forward and made a bridge of his fingers as he clasped them as if in prayer. “There is a man called Anthony Barnwell Steel…”

Zoe shifted uncomfortably in her seat and blushed.

“…He was your uncle’s friend… I see you know of him?” Masterson put in.

“We met when I was a kid…” the words clung to her mouth like a childhood lollipop being removed from a saucer.

“If you spend the summer with him, on his terms, then however it works out you get an indexed £30,000 a year until you are 30 and then a first payment of 10 million with a second 10 million when you marry or when you turn 45, whichever is first.”

Zoe was still thinking of Tony Steel and that summer not so long ago when the ‘second 10 million’ got her attention.

“You mean I get 10 million quid when I marry?” she said incredulously, “But what if I don’t want to get married?”

“You have to spend three months with Mr Barnwell Steel first. On the same terms as you had when your uncle was alive. I believe you know what that means?” Masterson let the question hang.

He too had a pretty good idea and he was dreading explanations and the quite reasonable fall-out that would ensue.

“A three month holiday at the old family estate… it could be worse,” Zoe said brightly.

The 10 million was too far off to contemplate, but with 30 grand a year she could get a neat pad and hang for a while until something turned up. There was a certain amount of relief that she wasn’t off to the dole office just yet, but the thought was tempered by the rousing little bugs that begun to tickle the inside of her tummy.

The summer she had spent at her uncle’s after her gap year and before college had been the best of her life. It had been the only time she had not felt in utter free fall and the screaming need for attention had faded to a dull roar.

“It might not be a holiday…” Masterson said carefully, “I have read the side letter… I am not even sure that it is legal. We might…”

“I’ll do it,” Zoe rolled her eyes yet again. She hated all the boring faff.

“You have to sign an agreement first and if you do then you are pretty much committed. I am sure…” Masterson was suddenly uncomfortable with the whole deal.

“I said I’ll do it,” Zoe said impatiently.

*

The old house was much the same, although Zoe knew that it was now rented to a Middle Eastern millionaire. Tony had inherited it from her uncle, but he had chosen to continue to live at the old lodge which he had rented before.

Zoe had never been sure of the relationship between Tony and Uncle Ben; she only knew that they had met in the army and that Tony did various jobs around the estate for the old man.

She had first met Tony as a girl on her first visits to the estate, but in those days Tony had been a distant figure, always driving tractors and hefting great tools about the woods.

Only after her mother had died and she had come for an extended stay that summer had she really got to know him.

“Still a fright then,” Tony snorted as Zoe strolled up the drive to the lodge with a black denim bag hauled across her trademark leather jacket.

Her short pixie cut hair looked bedraggled as if cut with a knife and fork for a mixed salad.

“And you look so chic,” she countered, nodding towards his tattered checked shirt, which was rolled above his elbows to reveal his tanned and toned arms.

He was younger than she remembered, maybe not even 40, although his dark brown hair was dashed with grey flecks. But then at 10, 25 would have seemed old she now realised. It was a strange thought, because now at the same age she didn’t feel remotely grown up.

“I’m surprised you agreed to this,” he said in a non-committal voice.

Zoe shrugged.

“The old man can keep his millions, but the 30k a year is worth putting up with you for a few weeks,” she replied in a bored voice. “But I am not sure what the point is.”

“The point…” Tony sighed, “I don’t know there is one. Show half willing and you can bugger off and leave me in peace and you’ll get your cash. But that summer you were here… well you almost left here a decent human being. I think your uncle hoped that one more chance and you would stop wasting your life.”

“What didn’t he like me blowing his money on sex, drugs and rock and roll? Or was it that I wasted the rest?” Zoe said drily.

“That smart mouth of your will get you…” Tony let an edge touch his voice.

“What are you going to do, spank me?” Zoe challenged.

“You know I will,” Tony warned her.

Zoe blushed and worked her suddenly somewhat dry mouth. She remembered long hot days and the smell of freshly cut grass and of giving him attitude. It had been a duel between them and a way to get some attention.

She remembered taking the dump-truck after he told her not to and ending up in the ditch. He had hauled her over his knee and had spanked the seat of her jeans right there next to tumbled truck.

She had been embarrassed, especially as afterwards when her determination to show it hadn’t hurt had ended in a bottom-clutching dance and some barely supressed tears as Uncle Ben had laughed.

“You touch anything dangerous again without training or my permission and you’ll get some more. Only next time your pants and trousers are coming down,” Tony had promised.

No one had ever stood up to her before and the line he had drawn in the sand for her was the clearest of her murky life; a line that was shiny and sharp and a border to a foreign land.

It was too exciting not to cross no matter what the cost and cross it she had. Not that she had believed in the consequences. At 19, one never does. Not the first time or the last.

The industrial trimmer had been ripe with limb slicing potential, but the instruction not to touch it had seemed babyish. The topiary hadn’t appreciated her efforts and nor had Tony.

Across his knee, her skinny jeans and knickers had slid over her slender hips with a single burst of the button at his hands. She had been mortified, an emotion that retreated quickly with the first biting sting of his palm across her bare bottom.

“Are you determined to cross me?” he had snarled at her.

“Get off me you bastard,” had been just her opening tirade.

But even with what followed he must have heard worse and had spanked her for some long minutes until her bottom had sung to him and had taken on the appearance of two polished tomatoes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she had sobbed.

“Are you?” he had asked.

“Yes, oh yes, please Tony,” she had pleaded.

“Then stop struggling and stick your bottom up to accept what you deserve,” he had ordered.

It had been too embarrassing and within the confines of the potting shed she had renewed her struggles. In response Tony had resumed the spanking as if from scratch. It hadn’t taken long for Zoe to tuck in her knees and proffer him her obscenely rounded bottom for continued punishment.

The rest of the spanking was neither token nor brief and afterwards Zoe would have obeyed any command.

In the corner afterwards Zoe had seen her real self for the first time in a long while. All anger and resentment had been stripped away as she was reduced to her rightful place as a little girl at the bottom of the heap. Or so it had seemed. And it had been liberating.

Every four of five days after that Zoe had found a way to challenge him. And each and every time she had earned herself a sound spanking and a good hour or two standing bare-bottomed in the corner.

It escaped her notice that her battles were not only small, but increasingly diminished as the bar was set ever lower towards a destination that represented civilised behaviour. By the end of that summer she had not only learnt some manners, but had enjoyed sharing them.

Despite her battles, she had vowed to return the next summer to continue her contest with Tony and Ben, but that winter her uncle had died and that chapter had been closed.

“I am here to work hard and learn some good old-fashioned values aren’t I?” Zoe broke from her recollections with a jocular tone and mock saluting punch to the air. “I mean I’m too old for… what happened before.”

Tony folded his arms and regarded her seriously.

“Pretty much, but I haven’t changed and you weren’t exactly a child then and you’re certainly not now,” he said examining her curves appreciatively. “So you mess with me young lady and you know exactly what to expect.”

“Does that mean I can’t drive your dumper truck?” it was an attempt at levity to disguise her embarrassment.

“You go anywhere near it, and you’ll get what you should have got last time,” he said in a dark chocolate voice rich with menacing promise.

Zoe blushed.

“You didn’t exactly pat me on the head last time,” she blustered.

“It won’t be your head I’ll be patting next time either and they really won’t be pats,” he said earnestly.

Zoe sucked in her cheeks and looked at the ground. For once her smart mouth failed her and the almost-girl from a summer long ago reasserted itself.

*

Zoe had been painting the fence for over an hour desperately trying to make an excuse to break off from it. The smell of the undercoat was vile and she was feeling a little sick. The hot sun made it even worse and she berated herself for not resisting Tony more when he had given her the job.

Still, she reasoned that he couldn’t have that many evil jobs for her and if she knuckled down for a few days as he had suggested, then he would soon tire of her and sign off for the lawyers. It was a mature attitude and Zoe wondered when and where she had acquired it.

However, as the morning rolled by the heat of the sun and the smell made her early clarity of thought a little fuzzy and she was bored. The trouble was the fence was only half done.

I could skip to an early lunch and finish it later, she considered.

She was still pondering the wisdom of her choice by the time she reached the pub. What the hell she thought, after a real worker’s lunch and some cider and she could get back to work.

The pub hadn’t changed a jot. Even the pictures were the same. She remembered how she had come here in the early days in a bid to get some reaction, but it seemed no one had minded a 19-year-old girl drinking and she had soon tired of that particular provocation.

“No workmen eh workers in the lounge,” the rather bored barman yawned.

“Worker’s?” she chuckled, “No that’s just…”

Zoe had been about to say that she wasn’t really a worker and then she realised that she still wore an old pair of overalls Tony had given her and stank to high heaven of paint.

“Can I get food in the public bar?” she asked, suddenly proud of herself.

Me, a worker, she grinned until the man gave her strange look.

Lunch went by without a hitch and the third cider tasted as good as the first. This really isn’t so bad she thought as she finished up.

The fence was no chore after that and Zoe finished before Tony came back to check up on her. His reluctant praise was welcome, if an anti-climax. But what had she expected?

The glory days are over aren’t they? I can’t even raise an eyebrow from Tony and I don’t even want to, she mused. A short working holiday then and what, back to her old life, the one she had tried so hard to wreck? It all seemed so hollow, but what had she wanted?

The last birds of the day sang in tune and as the light grew red the shadows stretched out on the lawn like fingers. Did they point at her or the house? Were they an accusation or… a signpost?

Romantique tosh, she giggled. And I used to think this place was magical.

*

“Dinner?” Tony grunted as she emerged from the bathroom refreshed.

Zoe looked up to see that he had forgone the usual shirt for a plain slate blue one and that he had shaved.

“I mean, would you like to go out for dinner? In the way of a welcome?” he expanded casually.

“The two of us?” Zoe asked.

It was a strange idea for both of them as neither usually did anything as civilised as dinner.

“I just thought… there isn’t much to do around here and no longer having access to the big house and a cook…” his voice trailed and he suddenly seemed unsure.

Zoe struggled for a snide comeback or a put down before she accepted. That would have been usual between them. Instead she shrugged and replied, “Sure.”

Then as an afterthought she added, “I don’t suppose you can cook anyway.”

He smiled, “Can you?”

“Fuck off,” she laughed dismissively, “Domestic Goddess I ain’t.”

That was more like the old Zoe, but a frown crossed his face, nonetheless. Such language in casual banter had once been her stock in trade, although she had never used it in front of Uncle Ben. But although he was used to urban language, even from women, he had never liked it.

“I’m not sure the old man would approve of your language,” he suggested.

He had said that once before long ago and she had replied with another foul-mouthed tirade. Then a cocked eyebrow had sent her into retreat.

This time she wistfully replied, “I suppose not.”

“The whole urban brat thing you have going on is just a façade isn’t it?” he observed drily, “I wonder who resides beneath the mask these days.”

Zoe glowered at him, bristling at his use of the b-word and disconcerted that he struck so close to her own doubts.

“Shall we go?” he smiled fondly.

*

“What will you do, when you leave here I mean?” he asked over coffee.

Zoe shrugged. She had expected him to take her to the pub, but the upmarket restaurant had been a surprised. She felt under dressed, another new experience for her.

“You have to do something, another course perhaps,” he suggested.

“What has it got to do with you?” Zoe snapped as her old self reared.

Tony gave her a hard stare.

“Oh that’s right; you are my appointed guardian for the next three months,” she said with an amused sneer, recovering a little.

His stare did not soften as he weighed her up. In many ways she was still the same little girl dancing on the edge of womanhood, but when he looked on her, he could now see past the punk-Goth shock of hair to the woman underneath and felt an unfamiliar surge in his chest.

“Look, we’re stuck with one another for a while, but what I do is my business,” she said in a more conciliatory tone.

He cocked his head as if to say ‘is that it’ and she broke eye contact with his stare.

“Okay, I’m sorry but… I don’t know,” she sighed.

They didn’t say more until after they left. Tony paid the bill and then walked in silence back towards the lodge.

It wasn’t quite dark in the lane. The last of the summer glow was grey yellow against the western sky and in a couple of hours it would shift around and grow again until became dawn and herald a new day. Coupled with the full moon, this faux twilight gave everything a magical air so that a silver fire danced on the birch tree bark and the white painted posts that ringed the pond.

Zoe looked over at a thoughtful Tony and wished she hadn’t been so… rude was it? She had consciously abandoned manners long ago as a defence and now she could not remember them. The thought suddenly scared her.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” he said unexpectedly.

She looked down into the water and saw the flickering sphere mirrored there before looking up at its true form. His words were an observation from a man she realised she hardly knew. Where was that old hard-arse?

“Yes,” she whispered.

Then shaking himself he said, “Come on, I’ll make some cocoa,” and he began to stride out for home.

*

The next morning Zoe awoke with a resolve to burn through the summer with a mission. There was another fence that required her attention and this time it would be creosoted by lunch time. The trouble was it was longer if anything than the one she had tackled the day before.

“Bugger this,” she sighed and without looking for Tony she threw open the shed door and began trawling through his kit. “What is all this stuff?”

It didn’t take long to seize upon a very large green plastic bottle with a hand pump and a nozzle on a hose; just the thing to fill-up with creosote and power through the damn fence.

Once she got passed the smell everything went well until halfway through the nozzle that up to then had worked so well began to clog.

“Bugger it,” she screamed, kicking the green bottle so hard that it split sending creosote into the flower bed.

“What the hell?” Tony barked from somewhere on the other side of some shrubs.

Zoe answered with a string of expletives and kicked the green spray bottle again so that it shot down the lawn.

“I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t,” she wailed.

“That’s a weed killer spray,” Tony groaned, shooting an angry glance at Zoe.

“So fucking what,” she spat.

“It’s ruined,” he said numbly, wondering how many other tools had joined it in the graveyard.

Then he saw the extent of the damage to the garden.

“This is my tenant’s lawn,” he said in a strained voice and swallowed.

“Stuff your stupid lawn,” Zoe said sullenly, she hated this feeling, she hated the lawn and she…

“Young lady I had thought that we could do this another way,” his voice was sharper now, “But I see that you need a firmer steer.”

As he spoke he advanced on her across the partially ruined grass, rolling his sleeves up as he came.

“Look I just…” she gulped, surely he wasn’t going to…

Zoe didn’t wait to find out and made a break for it. She made it all the way to the side door to the kitchen before he overtook her with great easy strides. There she was upended and draped across his lap.

“Tony, Tony, come on, you can’t,” she reasoned in a calm voice, but uncertainty clawed at its sides.

The overall was one of his and baggy, so it peeled off her like a Satsuma skin. The jeans underneath were tighter on her hips than he remembered and he struggled with them for a little longer. Fortunately she wasn’t wearing a belt and the once-tight faded black denim was more yielding. Her knickers were nothing but a thong and he paused.

Her full round bottom was more womanish than he remembered and for a brief moment he forgot himself.

“Tony,” Zoe was shrill, “Please I’m sorry.”

Then deciding on a symbolic action he tugged on the elastic and drew the skimpy briefs down her legs to join her jeans and overalls.

“Tony, Tony, you can’t… I-I…” Zoe’s voice wavered between reason and panic now.

He spanked her hard across both bottom cheeks, revelling in the sharp satisfying impact.

“Tony,” she shrieked.

The discarded green bottle rolled over in a breeze to highlight the damaged lawn.

“Now it is Tony,” he growled and spanked her again, not once but several times until the pale flesh of her bottom coloured-up to a reddish orange. “I’ll give you Tony. You should have called me before if you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Ah,” she yelped as he began in with a fresh volley, “Alright I’m sorry, please,” she wailed.

“You’re always sorry aren’t you? But where does that ever get us?” he snapped at her, “Well if you are so sorry then you know what to do.”

“What? Tony, nooo…” she squealed.

What did he want?

He held her firmly as she bucked under the onslaught of twice a dozen hard spanks. The fire-red well and truly staining her bottom rounds and with no signs that it was over.

Zoe he knew he wanted her surrender but she wasn’t ready. Years of being lost crystallised in her mind and now she was 19 again with a future maybe.

“I can do this all day and I am a long way from finished,” he barked at her as the spanking continued.

“Is this about last night?” she yelled.

“It’s about the bloody lawn, it’s about the garden, it’s about everything,” he beat out the punctuation on her scarlet bottom.

Zoe clenched her teeth determined to give him no satisfaction but the veil opened in her mind and she saw that all her protests were unjust. The unbidden sobs chuckled from somewhere in her throat and with an effort she pushed her bottom up to meet the spanks, presenting it to him in surrender.

Encouraged he brought his arm back and with great flowing swats he belaboured her bottom until she was bawling like she had of old.

“Now you can stand and face that wall while I assess the damage,” he ordered her.

Zoe looked miserably at the wall to the lodge and desperately prayed he wasn’t serious. What was wrong with the corner in the parlour or kitchen? That was a haven compared to this. But Tony was implacable and one hard look sent her tottering to the wall with her overall, jeans and thong still wrapped around her ankles.

Still there was no one about; not even Uncle Ben anymore and no one to see her. Zoe broke to great heaving sobs at the thought, the tears falling freely down her cheeks as she clawed at her thighs as a proxy and tried to shake the sting out of her bottom by doing a tight shimmy.

Thoughts of her uncle and lost days opened the flood gates and she truly cried for the first time since he had died. Why was she never angry with the man who had spanked her? How could he know what she needed so well?

The cathartic vigil facing the wall outlasted its welcome and little by little Zoe became aware of the breeze on her thighs and as her tears abated she became aware of other sounds. She felt silly and embarrassed with her knickers around her ankles where however unlikely someone just might come by, but all rebellion had fled now. She would not dare move until told to.

Somewhere a woodpigeon called mockingly to her and biting her lower lip she let her fingers stray to her bottom to feel it out. Twenty or 30 minutes had gone by, it was hard to tell, but finally Tony returned.

“It’s a mess, I’ll have to dig some of it out,” he sighed.

“Shall I…?” she said meekly he hands snapping away from her bottom as she stood up straight.

“You won’t touch it,” he snapped, “You can go and finish the fence; this time the old-fashioned way.”

Zoe sighed and stooped to gather her things.

“Leave them,” he barked, “They can stay at half-mast while you work. Step out of them if you must.”

“But…” Zoe’s eyes were wide.

“Then you can come back here and face the wall as soon as you think you are done and wait,” he continued.

“Oh please,” she wailed.

“You can have another spanking first,” he warned.

“Can’t I at least stand in the corner inside after?” she pleaded.

“Very well,” he agreed, “Now jump to it.”

*

The afternoon had been a difficult one for Zoe. The garden was secluded enough but not from Tony and she could almost feel his eyes studying her as she worked. Her bottom felt huge and exposed so there was little guessing needed as to where his were drawn.

Several times she had nearly snapped and had been on the verge of rounding on him in a rebellion, but then she remembered the spanking. Neither was it so much the fear. With every stroke of the brush on the fence she remembered the green spray she had destroyed in a childish outburst and she blushed. She could not even look herself in the eye and honestly say she did not deserve her predicament, far less Tony.

By the time she was finished hunger gnawed at her belly and Tony was nowhere to be seen. But the garden looked more or less in one piece, no thanks to her, so she made her careful way to the house.

Earlier she had opted for removing the clothing from around her ankles, it was too difficult to work and in any case it made her feel completely stupid to be hobbled so. However, the act of placing them in a rough pile on the ground had been a commitment to her imposed submission and had brought a fresh onslaught of blushing. Now she gathered her clothes and scurried for the back door out of sudden fear that she would be seen before the last hurdle.

The kitchen was at right angles to the dining area with one obvious corner that could be seen from both. She knew if she appeared to be hiding Tony would move her and he might even make stand outside again. Zoe sighed. Going unbidden to the corner he would chose was almost as hard sticking her bottom up in submission to the spanking; almost but not quite.

“Bugger it,” she murmured as she surrendered.

She had known that it might or perhaps would come to this when she agreed to come. Now that it had happened she was mortified yes, but also something else, something like familiar ground or an old friend. As her breath lightly dusted the wall she could not help feeling that buried somewhere in her humility was a second chance at something just out of her view.

Almost at once Tony was behind her nodding in satisfaction at her penance.

“The fence look’s okay, but the lawn will die off in places,” he grunted.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled and felt it.

“I only hope the roses survive, they have a chance at least and if not,” he shrugged; there was nothing to be done.

“I suppose I do have this coming then,” she said weakly and pulled a face over her shoulder.

He motioned that she should turn and face the wall, but not before noting her coloured cheeks and the contrition in her eyes.

“I’ll make some sandwiches, you can eat them in the corner,” he said casually as he moved off to the kitchen.

“Oh come on,” she groaned, “This is silly.”

“Do you want to still be standing there at bed time?” he countered with a growl.

“No,” she answered sullenly.

The silence that followed was unbearable and with every scrape of knife on plate as he worked she imagined him studying her behind. So to claw back some dignity she struck up a conversation; it seemed more like a game that way.

“How did you get to know Uncle Ben in the first place?” she asked.

“The Army, you know that, he was briefly my company and then battalion commander,” Tony told her.

Zoe had no idea what that meant but was desperate to fend off the scrutiny of silence.

“Uncle Ben was a… colonel wasn’t he? What were you?” she ventured.

God it was a strange feeling having a casual conversation with a man she hardly knew with her bare bottom on display.

“I would have made Major but the warrior got pranged; a roadside job. Ben was on staff by then; this was in the Gulf. He was due to retire and despite our best efforts the Army invalided me out,” Tony realised he hadn’t spoken of these things for years.

“You don’t seem that much of an invalid to me,” Zoe observed ruefully.

“Plenty had it worse,” he said quietly, “Even so I was in the hospital for a year.”

“How comes you never married?” she was suddenly very interested in his answer.

“I was,” he laughed, “We lasted almost three years. The army wasn’t for her.”

“She was a soldier?” Zoe didn’t care, but she was desperate to know more.

“Army wife, same thing,” he shrugged. “Ironically the decree absolute came the week after I got pranged.”

“So why not since… I mean the army, that was years ago?” Zoe pressed him.

She risked a look over her shoulder and scrutinised his face for any sign of a soul-wrecked past as he cut the sandwiches.

“There have been a couple of times, the last one was two years ago,” he said looking up.

She whipped her head back to face the wall.

“What? Didn’t they like being spanked?” Zoe found that she could smirk with her back turned.

“You know that is almost the last thing women ever complain about,” he said as if only just realising it; “Most wanted to change me and get me a high-powered job.”

“I am not the first who has stood in this corner then?” The question was more loaded than the teasing tone she was going for.

He chuckled, “Not by a damn sight.”

The answer made her feel better and worse at the same time; less of a fool maybe but also less exclusive. At that moment he put a sandwich-half over her shoulder. The green lettuce under a layer of cheese and ham was somehow appropriate.

*

As predicted within days of the spanking the lawn broke out in brown patches like a stain on paradise. Only the survival of the roses was any consolation and Zoe felt an unfamiliar pang so strongly that she wouldn’t have blamed Tony if he had spanked her again for good measure.

She stood a little way back pensively folding her arms as Tony stooped to examine the lawn. He reminded her of a doctor about to pronounce on a patient.

“Some of it can be repaired by reseeding but the rest will have to be re-turfed,” Tony sighed. “I have a good mind to make you repaint every fence on the estate with a toothbrush,” he scolded her.

Zoe blushed and dipped her head.

“Will it cost much? Maybe I can pay,” she suggested.

“Oh listen to lady muck,” he teased, “Not a penny in the bank and already spending it.”

“I-I only meant…” Tears pooled in her eyes.

He smiled warmly.

“You do know that I got a fair wedge from old Ben without strings don’t you,” he assured her.

She hadn’t. His interest in her was… was what? Zoe’s heart flipped like she had stumbled.

He was still watching her from the lawn and held her gaze for a long moment.

“Just… just how old are you?” Her eyes slid sideways coyly.

“I’ll be 40 next year,” he said wistfully.

“Before or after I turn 26?” she asked quickly.

In her head she ran the little calculation ‘half plus seven years.’

He frowned and shook his head in utter bewilderment. What had that got to do with the lawn?

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she blushed.

I’ll be a year or two short… she shook herself; silly game.

“Get some grass seeds from the shed, let’s see how much we can do here,” he suggested.

They spent the rest of the day chatting on the lawn while they scattered seeds on the smaller bare patches.

*

The summer went by and in time the lawn recovered and even Zoe and Tony’s dining adventures became less fraught. In fact, away from the gardens and grounds Tony was far less dour and he was given to making witty observations and telling stories of his time in the army.

Zoe as well became more relaxed and was able to laugh at her innocent notions in academia and her failures in the workplace.

“No boyfriends then?” Tony asked casually one night.

“No one in particular,” Zoe shrugged, “I tend to burn through boys too easily and the men are turned off by my style.”

She made an exaggerated Cecile B De Milne type pose and put her nose in the air.

“I see you have let your hair grow out and those pink tinges have gone,” he said carefully.

She shrugged again.

“Time for a new look maybe,” she replied, “When I get the dosh I might buy some new clothes.”

“Don’t grow up too fast,” Tony said with a wink.

“But just grow up, is that it?”

“Maybe a little,” he conceded, raising a glass.

So as July turned to August Zoe began to consider September with some trepidation. The change in season would mark a new chapter in her life.

Over the summer Tony had trained Zoe to use many of the tools and her role had expanded greatly. He had even given her a couple lessons on the dumper truck, but he had still cautioned her not to use it until she was ready.

Nevertheless, one day after it had been raining Zoe contemplated a pile of deadwood by the gravel path and considered where to move it. It couldn’t be burnt, certainly not where it was, and the wet wood made it the devil to heft into wheel barrows.

With a sigh Zoe eyed the dumper and turned over an idea in her mind. She had never owned a car, but she had a license. And in any case they were on private land. She knew that the steering was backwards on the vehicle and when Tony had showed her, she had managed it fine.

“He did say when I was ready,” she mused aloud, “How hard can it be?”

The dump scoop was no easier to load than a barrow but it did carry almost half the deadwood at a time. Zoe reasoned that she could pile it all up behind the old sheds in an hour or two and then once it was dry it could be made into a pyre.

Steering was difficult at first and she kept instinctively turning the wrong way so that the dumper tended to weave dangerously along the gravel. But soon she could more or less do it right and made rapid progress.

It was only when she made her first return journey did she see the ruts in the wet grass.

“Cripes, maybe I should have gone around,” she groaned, visions of the last spoilt lawn loomed. “Well, what was I supposed to do?”

Even so on the next run she tried to keep to the track but steering between the trees was tricky and a couple of times she clipped one of them. Then to make an approach she took it wide but the 90 degree turn was beyond her and the back wheel slid.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she screamed as the dumper slipped.

There was a splinter of bark as she hit a juniper tree head on, the force of which threw her backwards onto the wet ground.

She was still sitting on the grass in a daze when Tony came running over.

“Zoe,” he yelled anxiously, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Zoe said in a strained voice as she got to her feet.

“That was a hell of a knock,” he said, concern carried on his face.

Without further comment he grabbed her into his arms and held to him.

“I’m okay,” she said softly, enjoying the contact.

She looked up at him and his face softened. It was hard to tell who kissed who, but in an instant they were in a firm embrace and their lips were pressed together.

“I’m sorry, I should have been more careful,” she said shyly.

Tony frowned and then he took in the damage. The tree was in a bad way and the grass alongside the path was churned to a quagmire.

“What did I say about driving the dumper?” he scolded her.

“I tried to be careful, I thought I was ready,” she said, biting her lower lip.

“You nearly broke your neck and… look at the grass,” he sighed heavily. “That tree is over 200 years old.”

“I have a good mind to paddle you raw… what did I say I would do next time you…?” he seized her by the shoulders and shook her.

“That was years ago, anyway…” Zoe broke off.

Tony frowned. He had forgotten that this was the second time she had pulled the same stunt. One look in his eye and Zoe knew what was coming.

“Tony…” she said backing away, “Not again please… I… I…”

“You…” he accused his hands moving to meticulously roll-up each sleeve.

Zoe offered little resistance as she was thrown over his shoulder. She could only hope for at least some privacy.

Nearby the woods were deep and cool. The tenant was away and anyway this end of the estate was not much visited by the household. Behind a screen of trees was a fallen log and it was to this that Tony took her and deposited her on the ground.

“When are you going to learn?” he rasped as he sat on the log.

Zoe’s overalls were already rolled to her waist and underneath she wore nothing but M&S cotton briefs on account of the heat. It did not take long until both items were draped over her work boots so that she was bare-bottomed and served up over his knee.

“Ooh, this is so unfair,” she lied and squirmed for a less tummy crushing position.

The first spank struck her as hard as any yet from him, not that she was given long to ponder it. The second, third and fourth spanks came one atop of the other until Zoe was all fire in the tail.

“I’m sorry,” she wailed.

If there were any there to hear it, they might have thought that someone was applauding in the woods. And had they dawdled they might have amended that to an ovation, for log minutes on minutes did the spanking continue until Zoe’s shrieks and squeals were heard even above the impacts on her bottom.

Zoe kicked and strained, crossing and re-crossing her ankles as she began to bawl. She even remembered to offer up her burning bottom in submission as he demanded but it gained her no respite.

Finally he deposited her face down on the log and strode over to a stand of wild apple trees.

Zoe lay panting, her eyes tear-dripped and her bottom burning.

Across the glade from where she lay Tony availed himself of a lock-knife and snipped off two or three lengths of apple branch. They were as thin and stout as a spinster’s fingers and made sharp swishing sounds as he tested them in the air.

“I’ll never touch the truck again, I swear,” she pleaded, “I’ll stand in the corner for a week, I’ll do anything…”

The first stinging cut was as bad as she feared and she shrieked.

“Spank me every day for a month,” she continued pleading.

In short minutes a dozen and more weals striped her bare bottom, some of them fresh standout proud flesh-coloured scratches while the earlier lines were swollen and purple in hue.

“Please Tony, I’m sorry,” she wailed, but the switching sting went on for as long as she had yet been spanked until she was a bawling mess.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said at last, all passion spent.

He hauled her into his arms where she clung to him sobbing and crying over and over that she was sorry.

*

Corner time had been a bitch. For the rest of the day he had put her against the wall, not letting her sheepishly emerge until late into the evening.

“Sorry,” she said shyly.

“I suppose that’s the last spanking you’ll get from me,” he sighed.

“Is it?” she whispered.

“Isn’t it?” he countered.

“I could stay until Christmas maybe and learn some more about gardening,” she offered.

“In that case, I can’t imagine you won’t get spanked sooner or later,” he said in a soft voice.

“Nor can I,” she smiled. “And what about after? Won’t you need help in the spring?”

“Plenty, but be warned a green sapling hurts worse than apple,” he said quietly.

“Ouch,” she said ruefully, still not confident about touching her raw behind. “I think I’d rather just go over your knee.”

“That would be for me to decide,” he said in a stern voice.

“Oh yes,” she said with wide-eyes, “I didn’t mean…”

He silenced her with a kiss and she kissed him back.

“Do you think… do you… I mean can this work?” she said eagerly.

“Let’s plant a seed and see,” he replied kissing her again.

She smirked and looked up to where the bedroom was.

“I think this is what Benjamin Romantique wanted all along,” he breathed.

“Maybe, maybe not, at the moment I really don’t care about Romantique or the legacy,” she sighed, “Not one jot.”

The end.

Having had several real life domestic accounts about young adults and college girls it occurred to me that there must be many, many more relationship accounts out there. So in a rare idle moment I ran some searches and checked out the usual suspects and found some.

What follows is the best of a selection chanced upon on Voy, EP and Fem1st.

Danielle wrote:

About what HKM said about spanking within marriage and being outted in a DD relationship or not. I think it is your own business.

I met my partner at a health spa on the South Coast. I had been sent there by my then current boyfriend as a treat and I think in an attempt to keep me. But I hadn’t been serious about him and the main attraction had been the spoiling and the escape from chattering boys (he was much older than me). I had always been drawn to older men but in those days didn’t know why.

John was also quite a bit older than me, although in much better shape than the guy I realised I was dumping.

We hit it off at once and I was absolutely captivated by his honesty. He told me right off he liked his women in their place and had no time for women’s equality, even if it was fair.

I told him that I didn’t believe in going Dutch, so what did I care.

“A bit of a spoilt bitch are you?” he teased or half-teased. “I would love to give you a good sound spanking on your bare bottom.”

Men had said that to me before. Apparently I have the arse for it. I laughed and maybe I said, “What else is new?”

He became serious and said it was no laughing matter and that I could definitely stand being taken in hand.

“If I spanked you it would hurt and you would do what you were told,” he said.

It scared me, but not enough to put me off. So when he called me a week later we went on a date.

Out of mischief I complained about the wine and sent it back and when I got my own way I played up like that all night. My recent ex had been amused by the game and had always paid the bill.

John didn’t say a word but when we got back to his place he told me he could call a cab and go or stay and see what happened. He was quite cross so I guessed what was coming, but I opted to stay.

He put me over his knee and bared my bottom quickly. Then as I expected he gave me a very smart spanking. It hurt more than I expected, but I thought it was fair enough. Then he sent me to the bathroom to fetch his bath brush.

“You can’t, it will bruise,” I told him.

He shrugged and told me it wasn’t a game and he could still call me a cab.

I apologised about my behaviour and asked to stay. Needless to say it didn’t get me out of a spanking.

The main event hurt worse than anything and I bawled like a kid all the way through. I was right, it did bruise and for days and days. And after he made go and stand in the corner in the nude.

The sex was great, but he played too rough for me, or so I thought but a dozen spankings later and half again as many dates I moved in.

I loved the way he stood up to me, but the spankings and other punishments were real. If I wasn’t a good girl, I got spanked and properly. He also loved giving me corner time, which was really embarrassing. It got so I really tried to behave.

Once or twice he sent me to the corner when friends were there. Nothing was said but they must have guessed I would be spanked once they were gone.

Finally a friend told me it was wrong and I should leave him. So after asking another friend, who agreed, I went home to my step-mother and told her everything.

Instead of support, Mum was absolutely furious. She said I was like a leaf in the wind and gave up on things too much. She told me that if I didn’t want a spanking from him, then I should not put up with it, but that if I didn’t mind then it was my own business and not my girlfriends who were probably jealous.

That night John phoned and sort of said the same thing. He told me he loved me and although it would be an issue, we could talk about it and maybe work something out. He was also genuinely concerned if I had felt at all coerced.

I had a good hard think about it and felt absolutely sick. I really had been a spoilt brat when he met me and I could not imagine life without him. It was odd, but when I was told off by Mum I felt my bottom clench like I would be spanked and it felt right.

I wrote a long note of apology and told John that any punishment he decided on was absolutely deserved. I didn’t say so but in my head I thought of a party where everyone came to see me spanked like a naughty girl.

Then when I got home I left the note on the table and dressed in only a top and put myself in the corner. I even drew back the curtains and made it really obvious.

I was there a long time before John got home and read the note.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I told him I was and when he said we should be more discreet, but I said we should be less discreet and that I was proud of being put in my place when I needed it. I also said I was really, really sorry.

The spanking I got was the worst ever and I could hardly sit down afterwards. I also had to go to the corner for a good cry. That was all I got for running away even though I asked for more.

But any discretion was over after that. It was so embarrassing doing bare bottom corner time in front of male and female friends and even my Mum and sister. But I absolutely never regretted it, well except maybe occasionally at the time.

So I say if it is right for you then work it out for yourself.

Tammy wrote:

I got my first ever proper adult spanking on a picnic. It started as a play fight. It was fairly intense and afterwards we made out with some heavy petting. In those days you didn’t have sex unless you were serious, but a spanking was something else. I was so embarrassed but kind of excited. I had hand sized marks on my bottom for days.

Nothing happened after that. Not even when we got engaged. But I did used to fantasise about it.

Then one day we had an argument as couples do. It was bad and I knew it was my fault.

Then the day after and we still had not made up I went for a walk. There was a paddle in a hardware store window with some joke words on it: ‘Family Attitude Adjuster’ and cartoon picture of a house wife bending over.

I waited until the male assistant went out back and then asked the woman behind the counter if the paddle worked or was it just a light ornamental piece that would break.

She took me seriously and asked me what I had in mind. I don’t know why, but I told her everything and she did not blink and we tested it out on our hands and some cushions.

Taking the paddle home I told Brian I was sorry and gave it him. His mother was there, so it was a bit embarrassing, but after a quiet word she went into the front room and I went into the wash house out back.

I decided to bare my own bottom and he told me to bend over an old washer.

It was a hard spanking as he really put it to me, but it cleared the air and we agreed to use it from then on.

The words and drawing got a bit worn over the years but in 1978 I gave it to my daughter, who as far as I know had it used on her own bare bottom right up until her own daughter wed.

I don’t know if it is still used but my granddaughter still has it hanging in the den of her house. Maybe it would not happen these days, but I love to think of it polishing bare bottoms in our family for generations to come.

Cassie D wrote:

I had had affairs with women before I got married so it was not that strange that I started again after my divorce. But mainly I threw myself into my realty work. I hadn’t up until then considered myself a lesbian and just assumed I would find another guy and do the happy family thing.

Then I met Wendy. She was older than me and totally in your face. We hit it off at once after she came looking at some property I had for viewing.

We had a couple of dates and then she didn’t call for a while. She was the first woman I had missed after.

Anyway a couple of weeks later she calls me about a property she wanted to see and suggested we combine it with dinner. I was a bit huffy with her on the phone but business was business. But I did turn up late for the viewing to make a point.

She was pissed at me and bawled me out.

I didn’t keep my cool and let her have it about not calling.

“I have been out of the country, I had a sudden deal, I called you,” she said angrily.

There had been one message, but it had been a bad line and I had deleted it without really listening.

“What you need little girl is a good sound spanking on your bare bottom,” she said or something like.

I don’t know how but a moment later I was face down over her knee with my suit pants and panties at my ankles getting my butt blistered. It must have been good and red before she asked, “You want to see me again or not?”

“Can we?” I said meekly, I was crying and totally jello over her lap.

She said fine but that I had to learn my manners first. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a hand brush. She gave me another very sound spanking and did not let up until I was a mess.

Later at dinner at her place I had to kneel on a stool, but it was the best night ever.

She didn’t buy that place but we bought another. At the viewing she spanked me again over and over for no reason other than to let me know who was boss. Between spankings I had to cool down in just about every corner in the house.

I was still there, mercifully just out of sight, when my colleague came to see how we liked it.

My bruised behind still graces some of those corners.

This unusual snippet was sent in by Karl Gauss so many thanks to him.

The women soldiers pictured above got in some seriously hot water after posing semi-naked and posting the pictures on the Internet.

As the New York Post reported:

Israeli military officials did not divulge the exact nature of the punishment they face but blasted their lack of professionalism stating, “The commanding officers disciplined the soldiers as they saw fitting,” the army said in a statement.

 In an effort to encourage female conscripts to stop stripping, the military instituted a series of lectures that stressed the importance of staying clothed while on duty.

 Apparently the lectures had little effect on the women because the group published three more photos after they were disciplined. In the new pictures, the women are seen wearing very skimpy underwear while they cover their breasts with rifles…. (second picture top)

Interestingly there appears to be some welt marks on the bottom of the girl in the first picture. Maybe she had been in trouble before and the commanding officer punished her as he or she “saw fitting” that time too.

Our story began here.

Embracing the Dragon
Dniester eyed the three young women as if he had never seen them before. They had been summoned before him directly after the meeting with the Grand Magus by a journeyman. All three now stood in a row in the old wizard’s Ivory Tower study all eyes fixed on the Dragon’s Tooth delicately grasped in his fingers.

Nor had it escaped their notice that the saddle stool had been pulled away from the wall and placed in what was for two of them a familiar but unwelcome position.

Tabitha stood meekly biting her lip her eyes downcast as if watching hope running off down a drain.

Erin had even more cause to fear the Dragon, having in recent months gone from a position of defiance to one of humility under Dniester’s tutelage. The young witch was bleached white in trepidation and was serially gulping.

Only Lucy Pettigrew was passive. She had heard much about the dread Dniester, but with her customary thirst for knowledge and curiosity concerning all punitive adventures, she had an almost patient air about her as she analysed the situation.

“I am impressed,” Dniester said at last.

His expression was honest but praise was so rarely on his lips that all three girls assumed that it was a given that his words were an opening ironic shot.

“To assist in a ritual that breached the Pandorian Barrier…” he continued, “Well I don’t suppose you quite understand the significance do you?”

“We only did what we were told,” Lucy suggested tentatively.

Tabitha and Erin winced; no one spoke when Dniester did.

“Indeed, and you did it so well,” Dniester agreed. “That is what makes this such a hard lesson.”

“Sir?” Lucy tried to interject.

“When I am talking students are not,” he said icily, his glare enough to fell a dragon.

Lucy swallowed her lips and her face coloured somewhat.

“The hard lesson I am about to impart is that sometimes to do the right thing is to do the wrong thing. Sometimes one had to make choices and live with the consequences,” Dniester’s said with a hint of sadness in his voice. “Erin knows what I mean, don’t you?”

Erin nodded.

“Tell me my young witch; did you know that despite Amber Sage’s leadership in this what you did was forbidden?”

“Yes Sir,” she admitted, it had been the main appeal for her she now realised.

“So you knew what you were doing?”

Erin allowed herself an almost imperceptible nod.

“And you recall that my standing orders were that you were never to practice Wild Magic outside of class without referring to me first?”

Erin squeaked. This was going to be bad, very bad, she knew. It was all the defiant and arrogant witch of old could do not to get on her knees and beg.

But Dniester had already turned his attention elsewhere.

“Tabitha of the Silver Shore,” Dniester cast his eyes to heaven thoughtfully, not looking at second of the hapless trio. “You are so nearly a journeyman and have been here long enough. Did you not realise that you should have sought out Dr Fear before agreeing to take part in a forbidden ceremony?”

Then Dniester let his terrible gaze fall on Tabitha. It was all she could do to squeak in the affirmative. Why did the old man have such clarity of mind? It never seemed to matter what position one took, he could always show that you were wrong and make you believe it.

“And who do we have here?” The old adept sighed as he appraised the most junior member of the assemblage, “The brilliant Lucy Pettigrew who has yet to experience my wrath. Do you wish to claim ignorance?”

“Oh no Sir, the rules are quite clear. It was obviously a clandestine ceremony…” Lucy gushed enthusiastically as if embarking upon an oral dissertation.

“Enough,” Dniester barked, “I had been minded to go easy on you at least, but I see you are imbued with a little too much arrogance.”

The Dragon’s Tooth cut the air to punctuate his words and all three girls jumped.

“You will all undress to a sufficient degree as to denude your impudent little bottoms,” he commanded with a dismissive air.

Erin moved first. After some time as Dniester’s lawful apprentice she had the drill down pat. Her rainbow knitted coat together with her trademark beret was placed neatly with her bag by the door and then with only the merest hesitation she dropped the tie-dye skirt in a puddle next them.

Her blouse had been adapted to form an apron to her front while leaving her bottom bare behind, therefore exactly meeting the wizard’s requirements.

Tabitha too wore no underwear as was the custom in the Southern Desert, but she was more carless of her forward modesty as she stripped down to just a shift.

Only Lucy had not had the foresight to dress for the occasion and took some minutes removing and adjusting layers of petticoats and lowering her lacy cotton draws.

Finally all three stood back in a row facing Dniester with the bare bottoms presented to the door behind them.

“I rarely chastise a student in the presence of others, but then I rarely find three who are willing to defy me all at once,” Dniester explained and then added in a cursory tone, “You will all face the wall until you a called. And then once dealt with you will return to your place.”

“Yes Sir,” they all whispered in unison.

Dniester watched as they obeyed and then waited until all three bottoms were correctly aligned and their owners had stopped fidgeting.

The old man was not cruel and for once he regretted that the three girls could not have been spared this. But given the prejudice against witches at the moment, not to mention that he had correct and lawful orders on the matter, he had little option. Any sign that they had got off leniently would be held against them.

Nor in all conscience could he not punish to the full extent that their transgression required. Besides, he reasoned, what the fools had done was dangerous beyond all folly and they had done it in the full knowledge that it was forbidden.

Furthermore Erin had been instructed time and time again not to indulge her passion for the Craft. Her talents far outweighed her sense of caution and it terrified him. Not that the girl would ever know.

As for the Pettigrew girl, well she was one of the most promising academic thaumaturgy students he had encountered in years. And as far as he could tell, she had absolutely no talent for Wild Magic. Her involvement was as dangerous as it was pointless.

Not like Tabitha, who was destined to be a witch, even if she did not know it. And one who tended to take thrashings in her stride, if not to out-and-out court them.

Above all the ceremony had been dangerous. It might have even have been necessary as Amber claimed, but he doubted that even she knew with what she was truly dealing with.

It was as well that they dwelt upon this last point he decided. If afterwards they conclude that the consequences were worth it, then they would have learned the most important lesson of magic. And that was sacrifice.

*

Half an hour went by while the three would-be witches shivered in unbearable expectation facing the wall. Each praying to various deities, real and imagined, that the oft promised war or some other calamity would come to save them.

Lucy, who had previously balanced her apprehension with a sense of adventure, wondered if she might trade on her youth and faint. But the intellect that conceived this idea also realised that Dniester knew every trick in all the books and had probably written some of them. In any case, a good stiff thrashing from the famous wizard was a rite of passage; something to tell the grandchildren.

“Lucy Pettigrew,” Dniester intoned.

Had she been speaking out loud, Lucy gaped, or could the man read minds.

“I will take you first,” the wizard continued.

Lucy gulped and moved back away from the wall. The stool in the middle of the room looked all at once a million leagues away and far too close to hand.

“Place yourself over the saddle with you head right down and your tail absolutely uppermost,” Dniester instructed.

Lucy felt her throat tighten and then gathering her courage she walked slowly forward. In her mind the stool resembled one that might be set before a chopping block, but she knew it was not her head that was to be sliced.

There was a cushion for her shins and the old worn heavy embroidery chaffed her knees and calves. On the uppermost saddle the leather was cold and firm against her belly as she went over, and then just inches from her nose, every chip and blemish on the stone floor screamed for her attention.

Dniester studied the slight pale-white redhead with an expert eye. But even after years of such work he was struck by the myriad of orange freckles that marked most of the girl’s body like an inversion of a starry night. He was even impressed by the astonishing whiteness of her tight proffered bottom, which jutted up at him like two polished hard snowy domes.

Then wasting no time he lined himself up and positioned the Dragon’s Tooth cane for a stroke.

When it came Lucy was momentarily robbed of her senses. For a splintered second she thought again of the headsman’s axe. Then even as she realised the stroke was at the wrong end and began to process the line of pain, its true effect bit home.

She felt her eyes bulge as she clawed the air in a parody of escape, all the while the sting continued to build. Still, at least the opening shock had been too great for her to scream.

That pleasure was reserved for the second stroke, which by some miracle of the universe the gods themselves contrived to be worse.

Rarely before had Dniester seen such a hard red contrast of a raised welt on flesh. The two ridges that scored Lucy’s bottom were in exact replica of the cane in his hand.

“You come from a bottom smacking family do you not,” he observed drily.

“Yes Sir,” Lucy gasped her voice already drenched in tears.

“I can always tell,” it was an academic comment. “I expect you have taken the monitor spankings in your stride up until now.”

“Yes Sir,” Lucy managed through a heavy pant.

The third stroke extracted a long drawn out painful groan from the girl, which continued long after the impact.

“One stroke is like a minute’s worth of spanking by itself, don’t you think?” Dniester suggested.

He suspected that the girl processed the world in a catalogue of neat experiences and had yet to truly rue the rod.

Lucy nodded vigorously and clenched her teeth.

“What is a promising thaumaturgy student like you doing consorting with witches? It really isn’t your field,” he suggested, laying on another stroke.

“No Sir,” Lucy wept.

“There is an exercise where a girl such as you is required to study the patterns while her bottom is caned thus,” he said caning her again. “It takes a while to master but it can be done.”

“N-not n-necessary Sir,” Lucy sobbed.

“No? I am glad to hear it, for if you ever,” he caned her hard, “Ever play the witch again…”

The threat implied, the next stroke was extra tight and right on the under curve of her bottom where in a former life she had sat.

“Doooeeeeee,” Lucy shrieked, hissing through clenched teeth.

It was a new one for Dniester, an improvement on ouch certainly. He wondered if such things could be studied.

Lucy was now beyond conversation and took her remaining strokes noisily and over a slow extended time.

“Lesson learned I think,” Dniester said at last.

Lucy was heaving with great sobs as she struggled for an even breath. Her bottom was literally scored with dark red and purple-black ridges that ran more or less parallel up across her bottom from cleft-top to where the buttock fold met the thigh.

“Thank you Sir,” Lucy sniffed, wiping the snot from her nose. “Your reputation is entirely deserved.”

As she straightened up she offered Dniester her hand and managed a dripping smile.

Handshake over, the wizard watched as Lucy limped back to face the wall and allow herself an unrestrained cry.

“Now young Tabitha, if you will join me,” Dniester said breezily with a swipe of the cane.

Erin shifted uncomfortably and mumbled something under her breath.

“Oh it will be your turn soon enough,” he said to his apprentice, “You know I will be less merciful with you.”

Meanwhile Tabitha looked thoroughly cowed with her head down and her shoulders stooped. Days like these were only fun after many, many beers and at a long distance in time.

*

Tabitha and Lucy had yet to completely stop crying and their bottoms looked like they had sat down on a town-market breakfast grill. They would both be scum-kissing bitch slaves for any monitor appointed to get out of another spanking any time before Mabon, they each promised in their own way.

Both stood in meek surrender with their noses pressed to the wall while Erin underwent her submissions to Dniester’s cane.

The arrogant young witch had bawled that she was sorry since the first stroke and many, many biting slices later she was begging to be good.

Maybe she hadn’t had so many more strokes than her friends, but the gaps between each had been long and filled with a comprehensive discussion of her shortcomings. Each acknowledged and each admitted to with the insistence of a totally elevated bottom to receive the whippy cut of the cane.

“So you like Wild Magic do you?” Dniester growled. “Well Amber Sage is not the only one with a devil root. They can be ground with sabre salt for quite a tangy cleanser too, did you know that? I bet you did.”

Erin was bug-eyed with misery. The cleanser spoken of was quite effective when applied both externally and internally. Worst of all she knew that from experience he would require a long, long letter of apology complete with an academic paper explaining her failings and why she deserved punishment. Now she was duty bound to discuss his suggestion with a real chance of having to request it. The exercise was to curb her pride and ensure that they were both on the same page with the curriculum, he had once explained. These days she complied unasked; her discipline was much improved.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Erin bleated as she absorbed the last two strokes.

“Join the others,” Dniester sighed at long last.

Erin could have kissed him.

As she took her place for a good cry facing the wall there was a knock at the door.

Ordinarily Dniester might have sent them away, but it might be important given recent events and in any case the humility would be of added benefit for the girls.

“Come,” he called.

The door opened slowly and a very sour faced Amber Sage entered with very reluctant steps. On seeing the row of blistered and welted bottoms her face became ashen and she swallowed hard.

“If you have come to intercede, then as you see, you are too late,” Dniester said softly. “They took their punishments well,” he added, “Well mostly.” He eyed Erin.

“I… I have…” she coughed, “I have come for my turn.”

“Indeed,” Dniester frowned. “Girls, you can…”

“I would prefer they stay,” Amber said in a thick voice.

“I don’t think that is entirely…”

“Please Dniester… Sir,” Amber pleaded; her eyes sad.

“You already face potentially grave consequences,” Dniester said sympathetically, “Deserved in my opinion, but then I am not in full possession of the facts.”

Amber looked at the row of bottoms again and licked her lips. This was going to be harder than she thought.

“The girls deserved their punishment as well they know. They are not children and made their own choices, each no doubt for their own reasons,” Dniester said sharply seeing her gaze and misreading it, “But I really do not think it is a discussion to be had in their presence. After all you are…”

“I am a journeyman and the senior one to blame, as you never cease to tell me,” Amber said bitterly.

“If you are going to take that attitude then I suggest we leave all further discussions to your hearing. After all, they may conclude you acted correctly,” Dniester said huffily. “I will not punish a resentful woman.”

Erin might have contested this statement, but a glance to her right at the others suggested that she was alone in this attitude. Then she paused. Did she resent this man? She wanted to, but already he had taught her so much, even more than Amber in his own way. Chief among his lessons was that magic was a hard road. Damn the man, he could cane her again there and then and justify it with fine words and she still wouldn’t hate him.

“I’m sorry,” Amber was saying, “I only meant… look I was the senior in the offence. If I am more culpable, then I will suffer. But what if you are right and I am exonerated? Then I will have used these women and escaped unscathed.”

“I do see your point,” Dniester pondered, “But let me dismiss the girls and we will discuss it.”

“I rather suspect that I can let you do nothing, but even as I welcome your sensitivity, I think that I must be punished as one of them if this chapter is to be closed,” Amber reasoned with some dignity and added, “If I might humbly request it so.”

She had discussed the issue with Meredith beforehand and the witch had agreed. So much so that she had offered up her own bottom for the pyre of honour. But that was to miss the point. Regardless of the justice of Meredith’s intrusion, the punishment was an internal matter between the impromptu witches’ coven and Pandoria.

“Very well,” Dniester sighed, “Present yourself in the customary manner and go across the stool.”

Amber responded with an open-mouthed sigh but after smoothing down the skirts across her thighs moved across the room to comply.

*

With very mixed emotions the three girls still faced the wall as Amber took her turn. Tabitha wouldn’t have minded being allowed to go and soothe her behind, while Erin had never felt so close to Amber and was touched by her loyalty.

Only Lucy viewed it, albeit out of the corner of her eye, with a sense of adventure and with any academic detachment.

For Amber herself, she felt anything but detached. Dressed only in her shift she found that her previous experience was no solace as her bottom arched upwards to present their full rounds as Dniester directed.

“Keep your legs together,” Dniester scolded her impatiently.

Amber blushed more strongly, if that were possible and for some reason thought of her grandmother.

“Heels together for your switching girl, no one wants to see what you had for breakfast.” Odd that she should recall the event now.

This was far more humiliating she decided as she fixed her eyes on a spot on the floor and glowered at it.

“I gave the girls 20 each with 25 for Erin on account of a private arrangement between us,” Dniester announced, “You will take a perfect 30 I think and any that land across a poorly presented behind won’t count and will cost you a penalty in addition.”

“Yes Sir,” Amber acknowledged in a thick voice. It seemed only fair she conceded.

The first stroke tested her pride and dignity to the utmost as she grunted at its impact.

Dniester waited for it to fully take before adding to it. While he waited he put his cane over his shoulder and made a slow turn of the target. Actually having the real culprit under his hand was quite satisfying and this tough witch was a strong woman.

For Amber the sawing burn and begin to abate so that she thought she might cope. Then the next sliced down with finesse.

“Gods,” she gasped.

It took an effort not to pump her thighs and even so her bottom shimmied a little. Amber prayed that the wizard wouldn’t take umbrage.

Dniester decided to demonstrate an old technique for the witch. One that was suited to a hardened case and a penitent volunteer such as her. And it would also serve to humble the other girls if their leader was taken down a peg or two.

So instead of the standard delivery of one stroke every 10 or 15 seconds he let the full burn to take before adding a fellow some 40 seconds or so later. With a longish pause at halfway, that meant the caning could last a good 20 minutes.

The gap between strokes was too great for Amber to judge the timing so it quickly played upon her nerves. Added to that was the fact that her bottom was under constant assault for minutes on end, far longer than she had the reserves to counter.

She had to admire the old bastard, he meant to break her in front of the girls and remove the chance that she would be martyred in their eyes and therefore encouraged. So after seven or eight minutes she was hissing in distress through her nose desperately gripping the wood of the saddle-stool for some respite.

“Dniester please,” she wailed.

It was unworthy and if he should count it against her then he was within his rights.

He didn’t, but the scheduled stroke stole her last reserves of will in any case.

With just 10 bars of searing pain across her bottom, her supressed panting began to gurgle out as sobs.

Perhaps now able to afford some mercy Dniester quickened the pace and delivered the next five within two minutes, but that only served to push Amber over the edge.

“Ah-ha-ha-a-hah,” she bawled, openly sobbing now.

She had been broken at exactly the halfway mark as Dniester had intended and he paused in the assault. Then bending low he whispered in her ear, “I admire you greatly you foolish girl and your gesture was magnificent. But you could not think I would allow you to best me did you? Not in front of the girls?”

“No Sir,” Amber sobbed, her voice a cracked ruin and the words but a whisper.

“Do you remember when you were my student, you were always so proud?” he said affectionately. “You must have known you couldn’t beat me even then, but still you always tried.”

Amber nodded, her red mottled face awash with tears so that a bead hung on the tip of her nose and another ran down her cheek to splash on the floor.

“Help me Dniester, I… we…” she pleaded.

“There is danger, I can feel it, but I will compromise nothing in the face of the enemy,” he whispered, “As for the hearing, I will think on it and help you if I can.”

Amber nodded again, his words more of a comfort than she could ever have believed; both for his assurance of help and for being Dniester. The enemy had much to fear when they came. The old wizard was formidable and only now could she see that her gesture had been in part at least another expression of rebellion. The man was a master at showing a girl her sins.

The short interlude over Dniester resumed his position and reverted to the slow caning style of before until Amber all but bayed at the moon.

After what was for Amber some long, long minutes and a life time later the last and final stroke fell.

“Please stand up,” Dniester instructed.

It took a minute for the witch to gain her feet and once she had done so she held out an unsteady hand to him.

He shook it brusquely with a curt nod and then gestured towards a space by the wall next to the other three girls.

“Thank you Sir,” Amber sniffed. “As proficient as ever.”

“Thank you Miss Sage,” Dniester said courtesyly, “Now be please to go and face the wall.”

“Yes Sir,” Amber said miserably struggling against renewed tears an effort which failed her the moment she stood alongside the others.

Dniester eyed the row of four miscreant well-caned bare bottoms for a moment and then satisfied they were all meekly obedient he crossed the room to his desk to consider the day’s events.

To be continued.

Another offering from TipTopper.

Short but sweet this week, but Bonnie has a long list of new spanking blogs on My Bottom Smarts so you can do your own searching or not.

The pictures are from Cutie Pie, About Spankings and the super hero cartoon is from Chicago Spanking Review, which also has a Wolverine cartoon this week. The line drawing is from a relatively new blog Spanking Art and is one I have not seen before.

Finally he ever productive Rollin has another e-book on sale if you like women’s prisons stories.