Roland Archer checked his watch again. Everyone was late and he could not abide tardiness.

“Have you any idea why your mother is so late Karen?” Roland asked his young student as she stood in the corner.

“No sir.” Karen replied crisply. Slightly apprehensive that he might in some way hold her responsible.

“I have another student at three. Or at least I was supposed to have had.” Roland explained. “It is a quarter past now.”

Tell me about it, thought Karen. She had been standing in the corner of Mr Archer’s study since two o’clock when he had finally finished metering out her straightener for the week. Mother was particular about that. Even when Karen hadn’t dropped her grades or been late, the arrangement with Mr Archer, her tutor, required a firm dozen across the bare once a week. But mother was supposed to have come to collect her a 2.45.

The doorbell rang and Karen heaved a sigh of relief. At 18 standing with your bottom on display in front of your middle-aged tutor was definitely not the high point of the week.

Roland went to the door, but instead of Karen’s mother, it was his new student Melanie Crow and her older sister Anita, another former student of his.

“Professor Archer I am so sorry.” Anita said breathlessly. “We were hopelessly delayed by an awful accident on the main road.”

“I see.” Roland said tartly. “You never were a good time keeper, but presumably it wasn’t your fault this time. Not that I usually accept excuses as you know.”

Twenty-six-year-old Anita blushed to her ears, she could well remember the consequences of any tardiness with Professor Archer.

“You remember Melanie, my sister?” Anita said to deflect any further embarrassing comments on the professor’s part. “She has been slipping in English and History.”

“Ah yes.” Roland smiled reassuringly at the girl. “A sophomore. Your major is in history isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.” Melanie replied shyly.

“Your sister has informed you of my methods?”

“Yes sir.” Melanie blushed.

“We run a tight ship at the Crow household, don’t we Mel?” Anita interjected.

Melanie nodded and blushed even more.

“Ah yes I seem to remember you had rather a strict upbringing.” Roland nodded sagely. “Am I to take it that you are acting in loco parentis?”

“Its certainly loco at our house. I mean yes professor that pretty much sums it up.” Anita tried to rein in the flippancy in the presence of her old mentor. Then failed. “I have full custody of the family hairbrush.”

“I see. And your old sorority paddle no doubt.” Roland said tartly.

“Oh yes. But Mel has one of her own now.” Anita grinned.

Melanie blushed, suddenly wondering if this conversation wasn’t veering into dangerous oath-breaking territory.

“A sorority girl? Well good for you.” Roland said pleasantly. “Well come in to my study, I have been rather delayed myself by the late arrival of one of my parents.”

As they entered the study Anita smiled at the familiar sight of a penitent student standing bare-bottomed in the corner and bearing the vivid marks recent correction. The old man must be slipping, she thought, as she counted no more than a dozen stripes on the girl’s comely derrière.

“Karen here has been a good girl lately. She is just here to be reminded to remain so.” Roland explained as if reading Anita’s mind.

It was not thoughts of leniency that preoccupied Melanie as she stood open-mouthed staring at firsthand evidence of her new tutor’s methods.

“I think little Mel here is going to be a very good girl from now on.” Anita smirked seeing her sister’s face.

“Oh gosh yes.” Melanie nodded earnestly.

Just then, the doorbell rang again. Roland excused himself and went to answer.

“I am terribly sorry Mr Archer.” Karen’s mother said flustered. “What ever must you think of me? There was an accident.”

“Yes so I gather Mrs Garland, do come in.” Roland ushered the woman in. “This is Miss Crow and her sister Melanie, my new student.”

“Hello girls.” Mrs Garland shook their hands vigorously. “I hope you are going to be a better student than my Karen. Speaking of which, Karen do up your things we are going now.”

Karen didn’t need telling twice and hastened to repair her dress.

After they had left Anita also made her farewells.

“Don’t spare the rod with this one. Us Crows are tough cookies.” Anita gushed punching her rather nervous looking sister on the arm.

“I seem to remember that you are Anita.” Roland smiled. “The paddle and the cane on nine straight visits during one spring alone and not so long ago I believe.”

Anita’s mouth hung open in horror at the revelation in front of her sister. “Quite.” She said, her face a colour that must have resembled her bottom after one of the sessions with Professor Archer.

But Melanie took no comfort from her sister’s embarrassment; her thoughts were still preoccupied with the image of Karen who had so recently occupied the corner of her new tutor’s study.

“Try and get the most from these sessions kid.” Anita whispered to Melanie as she left.

“Now that we are alone I think I should go over the ground rules.” Roland said mildly.

“Yes sir.” Melanie blinked nervously.

“You are never late. An excuse such as today’s is unacceptable. Are we clear?”

“But.” Melanie began, then seeing the look on his face said. “Yes sir.”

“Your essays are to be handed in on time. If you have a dog I suggest you shoot it.”

“Sir?”

“I don’t want to hear that the dog ate your homework.”

“No sir.” Melanie laughed.

Roland smiled and indicated the chair.

“I am not so bad Melanie. I won’t eat you.”

“No sir.” Melanie smiled. “Oh I prefer Mel sir.”

“Mel.” Roland smiled warmly. “Shall we begin?”

*

The weeks that followed were far from a trial to Mel. Professor Archer explained things in a way that made it all come clear. His set essays were not too arduous and once she was used to the extra work, she even came to enjoy them.

The only thing that disconcerted her about visits to Roland Archer’s house, were his other visitors. On numerous occasions, she arrived to find another student either in floods of tears as she departed or ensconced in the corner of the hall or study with a very bare and very sore bottom well displayed.

Most were her own age like Karen, whose bottom must have constantly carried marks on her bottom from Professor Archer’s cane. But sometimes there were older girls, young women, seniors and on at least one occasion a woman whom Mel could have sworn was on the college faculty.

Nor were they always in the corner. One time she came a little early to be confronted with a redheaded girl bent over the back of a chair in the study. Professor Archer made no attempt to spare either of the girls’ blushes and Mel was treated to the sight of the last few heavy swats of a paddle placed across the moist-eyed woman’s already very tender tail.

When the shame-faced girl was allowed to rise and step back into her slacks, Melanie realised that it was a girl from one of her classes.

“Oh my god.” The weeping girl gasped on seeing who was watching.

“Oh don’t worry about Mel.” Roland said easily. “Its not as if she is not subject to the same discipline is it.”

Mel and the girl exchanged uncomfortable glances and then the redhead mumbled her goodbyes and with an awkward gait made for the door.

“She really does need to learn to listen more.” Roland sighed after she had gone.

“Now how did you get on with your essay?” He said brightly rubbing his hands in expectation.

*

It had been almost a month since Mel had become a student of Roland. Whilst home life had been much the same, Anita had spanked her twice, she had yet to suffer at the hands of her tutor and she was beginning to wonder when it might happen.

Then, as these things invariably do, it happened when she least expected it. One afternoon the bus hadn’t come. No explanation, just a non-arrival. This didn’t concern Mel over much as she had plenty of time. So she decided to walk. Whilst crossing the park to Roland Archer’s house she bumped into a friend who wanted to return a book to her only she didn’t have it on her.

“It won’t take long to drop by my apartment.” Her friend had said.

Eventually Mel had arrived at her tutor’s less than 10 minutes late.

“Sorry Professor I had to get a book.” Mel said cheerfully as she entered the study.

Her eyes swept the room for any miscreants secreted in corners, but today there were none.

“I see.” Roland said darkly. “Then there are two things for us to discuss.”

“Two things.” Mel said blandly not really paying attention.

“Your last essay was a thoroughly half-hearted affair was it not? Had better things to do did we?” Roland said placing a leather pouf in the middle of the room. “As for being late, I am surprised that you take it so lightly.”

Mel’s mouth was suddenly dry. Roland was holding a thin mahogany paddle, which he stressed between his hands.

“If you would be so kind as to lower your denims, in fact why not step out of them altogether. The panties too.” Roland said casually.

“My panties?” Mel swallowed to get some moisture into her mouth.

She had never been spanked on the bare by a man before. In fact, she had never even been seen naked by a man before. But after the last month’s parade of sore bottoms, why was she surprised? Her sister had warned her after all.

“I am waiting Miss Crow.” Roland said sternly.

Mel’s thumbs would not cooperate as she tugged at the button on her jeans. But all too soon the fastener gave way and she turned her back as he blushingly lowered her clothing.

She paused for a moment before removing her underwear, thinking her ears might melt as she prayed frantically for some reprieve.

“Miss Crow.” Roland snapped.

“Yes sir.” Mel wailed as she hastily stepped out of her panties.

“Now if you would be so kind as to kneel on the floor and present your impudent behind across the pouf.

By pouf, she assumed he meant the padded leather stool-like thing in the middle of the floor. She eyed it nervously and then awkwardly lowered herself to the humiliating position as Professor Archer had directed.

The stuffed leather was a little lower than her belly and she had to steady herself with her hands flat on the floor. This had the affect of pushing her bottom up and backwards.

“Miss Crow you are a natural.” Roland observed.

“Thank you sir.” Mel sighed.

The splat of the paddle took her by surprise. She was still mid startle at the sound when the sting took hold.

“Jesus Christ.” She gasped. Her sorority sisters could get her attention, but never like this.

“Please don’t take the Lord’s name in vain Miss Crow.” Roland suggested as he took another swing.

“Ahh.” Mel yelped. “Please sir how many?”

“As many as it takes Miss Crow. As many as it takes.”

The light springy paddle fell slowly and hard. Each spank across her exposed bottom drove her hard across the pouf. Each impact extracted a heartfelt yell.

“Why did they pour tea into Boston Harbour Miss Crow?” Professor Archer asked. “In the name of freedom was it?”

This was a reference to something in her essay.

“Yes sir.” Mel sniffed and gritted her teeth as she received another.

“Yes sir?” He said tersely as he lay on another. “This is history we are studying, not Hollywoodised mythology or political platitudes.”

“No sir.” Mel wailed not knowing what to say. “I mean yes sir.”

“There were a multitude of complex reasons to the act with different participants each with their own motives.” The Professor growled adding another swat. “Name me one.”

“The legally imported tea undercut the black-market tea even with tax on it.” Mel said desperately her eyes and nose dripping onto the carpet.

“And so?” Professor Archer applied another heavy swat.

“Ahh.” Mel howled. “It undermined the organised criminals of the day.”

“Better Miss Crow.” Roland stopped the paddling and stooped over his charge. “I am going to give you 10 more and only 10 for this calumny if you can answer this next question correctly. If not you get the 10 and 10 more after a follow up question.”

“Oh please sir.” Mel said desperately.

“I am sure you mean thank you don’t you?” Roland said firmly.

“Oh.” Mel groaned. “Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

“Most people were against the King in 1776 because he was a tyrant.” Professor Archer snapped. “Is that what you said? Is that true?”

Sensing it wasn’t Mel said no.

“So?”

Mel desperately searched her mind for a better answer.

“Some people thought he was a tyrant.” She gabbled.

“Invariably some people did. What are you saying Miss Crow?”

Then she remembered on of his lecturers a week or two back.

“Only about a third were active in their support for the war in 1776. Up to a third were still loyal to the king and only wanted reforms.” She said in despair.

“Leaving a third neutral.” Roland supplied. “Why wasn’t any of this in your essay Miss Crow? Why did you turn in this third grade drivel?”

“Sorry sir.” Mel sniffed.

“Very well.” Roland sighed. “Just 10 more and we are done.”

“Oh sir.” Mel wailed.

She took the 10 tight, each exacting a price for her sloppiness and each extracting a loud howl.

“Thank you sir. I mean sorry sir.” She sobbed once it was over.

“Both are appropriate.” Roland said kindly. “Dry your eyes and let us continue with the lesson.”

“Yes sir.” Mel sniffed. “May I put on my things?”

“I rather think not. Let us keep you mindful of the consequences of sloppy work and available for further correction. Besides we still have to address your tardiness after our session.”

“Oh.” Mel’s eyes went wide.

“You didn’t think I had forgotten did you?”

“No sir.” Mel said with a pout.

The rest of the lesson went well, although it was hard for Mel to forget that she was kneeling half naked on the floor at her tutor’s feet while he outlined a better essay approach. Especially as she contemplated what was to come.

“We will finish early today as we have other matters to attend to.” Roland said at last.

Mel didn’t answer but looked up at him like a scolded child.

“Now Miss Crow if you will stand and place your hands flat on the pouf so that your bottom is again elevated.” Roland said as he went to the cabinet in the corner.

“Yes sir.” Mel said nervously as she saw him remove a cane.

“Never felt the cane before?” He asked.

“No sir.” She swallowed.

“It is very effective for lateness.” He said as if giving a lecture.

“Please sir how many?” Mel was frantic.

“Six is for children, 12 for reminders, but as it is your first time we will say, 15 I think.” Roland said brightly. “Next time it will be 18. After that well, you get the picture.”

“Oh sir, please sir.” Mel jumped up and grabbed at her bottom.

“Back over, please Miss Crow.” Roland said tapping the pouf.

Mel turned suddenly conscious that she was offering him a clear sight of her well-trimmed triangle in front. Then with one final desperate look over her shoulder slowly bent herself and offered him her still scarlet bottom.

He moved behind her as she stared straight ahead, but her eyes darted in her head as she tried to gauge his position behind her. Then he struck.

The first stroke extracted a hiss from her. He watched her right leg fold up as she dipped a little.

“Stings.”

“Yes sir.” She gasped.

He struck again and she twisted a little and began heavy breathing. There were now two stark dark lines across the scarlet stained bottom.

At the third, she growled through her teeth and sagged at both knees.

She gasped a sorry “oh” at the next and fresh tears sprang from both eyes.

She could not stay silent after that as the pain sang in her bottom and each stroke built on the last. He timed it well, so that she was just a coming off the peak effect of one stroke, when he placed another.

For the last three she offered him full-throated yells and at the last stroke broke into tearful sobbing.

“Now with your hands in the small of your back please take your place in that corner.” Roland said gently.

“Yes sir she sobbed.”

It was forty minutes until his next student arrived. A wide-eyed freshman who was desperate not to fail.

“Oh my.” She said on seeing Mel in the corner. Then obviously no stranger to the experience she said hurriedly. “I’m not late am I?”

“Not today Miss Libowski and your essay was excellent.” Roland reassured her. “Miss Crow will you be so kind as to dress in the hall and then see yourself out.”

Mel turned shamefaced from the corner and bundled up her clothes as she hurried to the door.

“Goodbye Miss Crow, see you next week.” Roland said pleasantly. “On time I trust.”

“Yes sir, good bye.”

Ends

No one knew how the tradition had got started or even when it began, but Mindy Heaver knew that it had happened even in her grandmother’s time. She had always thought it was kind of cool that it happened at her house, but she supposed that her family did have one of the biggest houses in Abraham Heights.

For as long as anyone in town could remember, the Abraham Heights Prep-school graduation barbecue had happened at the Heaver’s house.

This year however, Mindy didn’t think it was quite so cool, in fact cool was the last thing it was by any definition of that word. It certainly wasn’t how she had envisaged spending her graduation celebration.

Right now she was stood on the side porch of her uncle’s house with her two friends, Grace Wembley and Alice Coulter. They were all bent over with her nose to the wall wearing just their sweaters. The posture forced their bottoms into an excruciating prominence, which was a delight for the other graduates at the barbecue who had only just got bored with their catcalling. The school football team had been the worst, although the participation of some of her fellow cheerleaders was hard to miss.

Mindy risked a glance sideways at her friend Alice whose thunderous expression was fixed firmly on the wall. Her face must be redder than our butts right about now, she thought ruefully. At least Grace was through crying. Earlier her sobbing had only encouraged the mob.

“Is baby’s bottom hurting,” Graham Sellback, the team captain, had jeered. “Boohoo.”

It’s so unfair, Mindy wanted to wail, but she knew it wasn’t.

The day before she had led the girls in a little fun. A swat of a junior called Pamela Henderson had been bragging that as next year she and her classmates would be the seniors she was standing as class president and that she would do a far better job than her predecessor.

Well that was a red rag to a class of demob-happy seniors on the last but one day of the school year. They had cornered her in the girls’ showers and stripped her down. Then they had taken her naked to the school football field and scrubbed her with mops and hard brushes for the edification of guys and girls practicing their end of year moves.

“Not too big for your boots now are you?” They had jeered.

Mindy hadn’t intended to let things go so far. Usually there were teachers on hand to put a stop to such pranks around graduation, but on this day there had only been one. Prudence Trencher.

Prudence was barely 29 and had been the only outsider in Abraham Heights for a decade. The roughhousing had taken her by surprise and confronted by a baying mob of young people, not to mention her own confusion, she had hidden and just watched.

Prudence loved the left-field attitude of the town and its unassuming old-world traditions. She also liked working with young people preparing for college where someone else had done all the donkeywork.

The clincher for her had been that the school was enthusiastic in its use of the paddle, a happenstance that so matched her proclivities that she could hardly believe her luck. That was one of the reasons that she had been a passive observer at the Henderson girl’s hazing. The other complication was that the hazer-in-chief was Mindy Heaver. Since coming to Abraham Heights, Prudence had been lodging with the Heavers and she knew that Paul Heaver the girl’s uncle had considerable influence at the school and elsewhere in town.

Eventually the girls had let Pamela go, albeit with just her sweater, so she had to make the journey home sans culets.

To Pamela’s credit she hadn’t snitched, but of all the people to spot her predicament and give her a ride home, it just had to be Mindy’s Uncle Paul. The junior had only given them up after Paul had threatened to go to the sheriff.

Paul had called a council of war with the Wembleys and the Coulters and a fitting punishment was agreed.

“Please, please, please uncle. I’ll do anything, punish me any way you want, but not at the graduation barbecue,” Mindy had pleaded. “Mom, please.”

But her Mom and Uncle Paul had been adamant.

At the start of the festivities, Mindy, Grace and Alice had been marched out onto the porch dressed only in their sweaters to a huge baying cheer. All three had opted to pull the wool down in front even though it revealed more behind. As she shuffled out with her head down, Mindy had so regretted not having the same long hair of her friends to cover her face, not that they looked any happier as their school friends began to gloat and cheer. Once Uncle Paul had them in place of maximum exposure they were made to bend over with their bare bottoms facing the jeering crowd.

“I gather you three think this is fun,” Paul said darkly, addressing the row of bare bottoms. “Do you think Pamela Henderson was having fun?”

“No sir,” they chorused together.

“Are you having fun?”

“No sir,” Grace answered with a sad stressed wail.

“Mindy?”

“No sir,” Mindy was curt, but Paul had to admire his niece’s cheeky tone. She could take it.

“Alice is having fun aren’t you Alice?”

“Nooo,” Alice squeaked rapidly shaking her head.

“I know you girls are no stranger to the paddle, both at home and school, but has it ever been quite so public as this I wonder?”

The crowd fell quiet and none of the girls answered.

Paul produced a paddle from somewhere and moved behind Alice.

“Ten swats,” he announced. The crowd cheered.

Alice braced herself against the wall as the paddled blasted down on her firm round bottom. The crack-splat caused an uncomfortable ripple among some of the watching girls.

“Oh,” Alice wailed.

There was a pause as Paul watched a red splotch develop on the girl’s bottom. Then he spanked again.

“Ahh.”

There were three more and by the end, Alice was spluttering and began to cry.

Paul paused for a moment, satisfied that most of the kids watching were no longer laughing. The girls deserved this, but the fun was over for now, this was serious business and many of those watching began to feel ashamed for their part in Pamela Henderson’s hazing, albeit as passive observers.

The next five were delivered to Mindy’s upturned bottom. She opted for bravado by thrusting her bottom out and pretending it didn’t hurt by exaggerating her reaction. But by the fourth stroke, she was breathing loudly and everyone knew she was making heavy weather of it. Still she didn’t cry.

Then it was Grace’s turn. Grace broke into loud sobs from the first while her shaggy head of blonde hair cascaded violently at each impact. Her bottom was easily the most marked of the three Paul noted and was glad he had opted for sets of five or else she would have struggled to handle it. She had what his mother would have called a glass ass, much like Mindy’s mom Bridget, his younger sister.

Paul waited for Grace to bring her tears under control. That took a while and eroded some of the audience’s patient sympathy.

Finally he returned to Alice’s well-marked bottom.

“Ready Alice?” He asked.

“Yes sir,” she whispered adjusting her position leaning against the wall.

From the second of her final five, Alice’s shoulders began to shake and at the fourth and fifth she let out a great heaving sobs.

Paul could tell that Alice’s reaction had shaken Mindy’s bravado from the way she saved all her energy for the swats. In the end she nearly made it and did not cry until the tenth swat. There was even a ripple of applause from the watching cheerleaders.

“Good girl,” Paul whispered.

If Grace had taken the first five badly, then she positively failed to handle the last set.

Paul had to keep pausing while Grace danced around the porch grabbing her bottom and begging him to stop.

“Stop being such a princess you sissy,” one of the girls called out.

“The dancing is not until later,” came a male voice.

“Take the last two without moving or I’ll give an extra swat,” Paul said quietly.

“Oh sir,” Grace sobbed.

Paul delivered the last two fast and Grace yelled. But she did manage to hold position in light of Paul’s threat, giving a lie to her previous antics.

In any other town, the punishments might have been considered over the top, but Abraham Heights was no ordinary town. It was so far off the beaten track that outsiders were virtually unknown and over the years the community had witnessed some spectacular stunts and corresponding punishments.

Until the 1950s, people had still been tarred and feathered in the town and at Abraham Heights Prep-school, students were still paddled in the girls’ house. Usually bare and often in front of a school assembly. Back in 1986, when the mayor’s daughter had been caught fellating Deputy Rawlingson in his patrol car, the mayor had spanked her bare bottom on the town bandstand right out in front of everyone.

However, at that moment, the town’s eccentric history was not that much of a comfort to the three girls.

It took a while for the three of them to bring their crying under control, especially Grace and once they had, they were permitted to stand up straight. Not that they were going anywhere. Instead, they had to remain facing the wall on the porch with their well-paddled bottoms displayed to the party.

Prudence was amazed at the way the rest of the barbecue continued almost as if nothing had happened. For her it was all she could do not to stare.

“Enjoying the party?” Paul asked appearing next to her.

“Eh… yes, but I don’t think some people are,” she smirked a little as she inclined her head toward the girls.

“They’ll get over it,” Paul said grimly. “I won’t have bullying. It is a pity I wasn’t there to stop it. Unlike some people.”

Prudence blushed and wondered if he had heard something.

“How long will they have to stand there?” Prudence promptly changed the subject.

“Alice and Grace’s parents are getting ready to leave now I think. When they do, I’ll send Mindy to her room. I think her mother wants a ‘word’ before bed time anyway.”

Prudence had been living with the Heavers long enough to know what a ‘word’ would entail.

Suddenly a cheer went up and the party was disrupted by the sight of Alice and Grace being led from the porch by their parents. Grace was blushing and close tears again and wished her mother would let go of her ear so she could flee to the haven of the family car. Then the truth dawned.

“It’s only a mile, I think you girls can make it safely without a ride,” Grace’s mother growled.

“But mother I’m practically naked,” Grace wailed.

“You have the same as you allowed poor Pamela Henderson yesterday.”

“But… please…” their protests were to no available as the two girls stood cringing on the Heaver front lawn as their parents drove away.

“Run you ninny,” Alice squealed and the assembled football team cheered the two mooning girls as they disappeared into the evening gloom.

Even Mindy saw the funny side as she took one last look before escaping to her room.

*

The party was mostly an afternoon affair and it was still early when people began to leave. Prudence had taken care to avoid Paul, but as the crowds thinned, it became a little hard to do, so she took to making herself useful whenever he came near.

When eventually there was just the two of them, she grabbed a pile of unused food and left him to tend the dwindling barbecue. Once in the house there was no sign of Mindy or Bridget, and although it was still very early, she headed for her own room.

At the top of the stairs there was the unmistakeable sound of a spanking in progress. It wasn’t so unusual in the Heaver household, Bridget had spanked Mindy several times since Prudence’s arrival and tonight, there had been a clear warning that the girl’s sanctions were not over.

However, tonight Prudence noticed that Mindy’s bedroom door was open even though a sound spanking was well underway from within. She tried to creep past, but she couldn’t help a glance into the room as she did so.

Mindy’s bare bottom was turned towards the door and Bridget was vigorously applying a hairbrush to it while the girl yelped out in distress. Prudence paused as it was clear that the spanking had been going on for some time and the vivid red and swollen flesh suggested that Paul’s opening gambit on the porch had just be an appetiser and this was the main event.

“Mindy Jane Heaver, have you any idea how much you have shown this family up? The very idea that you would behave like that towards a younger girl.” Bridget’s voice was raised. “And as for that exhibition on the porch, I bet you don’t think you are so clever now.”

“But Uncle Paul…” Mindy tried to adopt the tone of one discussing a mutual problem.

“You know what I am talking about, you are doing it again, you and your cheeky bravado.”

Prudence hovered fascinated by the whole procedure and wondered if Mindy at 19 wasn’t a little too old to be across her mother’s knee. Just then Bridget looked up.

“Oh Ms Trencher, I didn’t see you there. We are just getting to the bottom of a little family matter. Well you know, of course.”

Prudence blushed and nodded before scurrying to her room.

A while later there was a knock at the door. It was Paul.

“Prudence can I see you in my study for a minute?”

“Eh… yes, I suppose, but can’t it wait?”

“Oh come on its just after nine and there is no school tomorrow,” Paul smiled.

“Yes of course.”

As she followed him down the hall to his study at the back of the house, she was aware that Mindy’s spanking was still underway and that the girl was balling out her regrets and no longer trying to ‘discuss’ her way out of it.

It was just as well that Prudence had Mindy’s spanking to distract her, because as soon as she got to Paul’s room, things took on the air of the ‘naughty school girl.’

Paul even ominously closed the door behind them.

“I understand you were there when Mindy and her friends pulled their little stunt?”

“Well I…. not exactly, I was… I was nearby, I suppose. I saw some of it, but I wasn’t sure…. I mean… it was only a bit of fun for graduation.” A flustered Prudence finished lamely.

“A bit of fun? What about responsibility? What about your duty of care?”

“I…” Prudence blushed.

“You know I am a trustee of the school? I should take this to the principal and have you fired.”

Prudence’s face was a picture of woe, but she had been feeling guilty since the incident and she couldn’t blame him.

“Nothing to say?”

Prudence’s face flushed and she stared at her shoes like an errant student.

Paul picked up the paddle he had used on Mindy and the girls.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t use this on you.”

“What?” Prudence moved backwards in consternation. “That’s silly I’m nearly 30, I’m not a student.”

“I’ve used it on Bridget before now and she is 40 next birthday. You know well enough the prevailing customs in this town by now. I think that’s why you came here. I think perhaps that’s why you didn’t intervene to help Pamela Henderson.”

Prudence wanted the ground to swallow her; this was far too close to the truth for comfort.

“Now bend over for your swats Miss Trencher, or I am going straight to the principal.”

Prudence stood with her mouth open, at any other time in her life she would have spat in the man’s eye, but she had finally found a home here in Abraham Falls and to cap it all the man had read her so well.

“Please Mr Heaver, can’t we talk about this?”

“No.” Paul smacked his hand hard with the paddle and glared at her, his stern countenance willing her to obey. “Now turn around and bend over.”

Prudence swallowed, scared, thrilled and embarrassed all at once. At least the man didn’t want her bare, she reasoned. She turned hesitantly around and half bent forward with a blush.

“A little more,” Paul said darkly.

This is so humiliating, she thought as she bent over a little more.

“Bend over now,” Paul snapped loosing patience.

Prudence hastened to obey, hating herself.

“Now Mindy got 10, you being older and wiser deserve rather more do you not?”

“Please Mr Heaver I’m sorry, I really didn’t know what to do…” Prudence was close to tears.

“Am I bullying you?”

“I… don’t… what?” He was, she thought, or was he?

“Stand up Prudence.”

Prudence didn’t know if she was more shocked or more surprised, or disappointed, she added secretly. She stood up blushing and not daring to look him in the eye.

“I don’t hold with blackmail or abusing my position to take your job. Besides I know you were there because the principal told me. He was most amused and saw no harm in Pamela Henderson being taken down a peg. I don’t approve and I said so, but I have high hopes for you.”

“I…”

“But if you ever abuse your position again while living under my roof I will spank you silly,” Paul added.

Prudence nodded and turned to go.

“I’m sorry and thank you,” Prudence said shyly as she left.

A very sheepish and sorry looking Mindy passed her in the hall. Prudence looked back, shocked at the state of her bottom and even more shocked when Bridget said: “get your nose against that wall. You can stand there until bed time and you had better not dare move.”

“Yes Mom,” Mindy wailed.

Suddenly Prudence’s guilt came flooding back. As she watched she took a fresh look at the youthful Bridget. Did Paul really still spank his little sister?

Bridget saw her watching and offered her an encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry Ms Trencher, it is quite the custom in this house, believe me.” Prudence could have sworn that Bridget’s hand strayed to her own behind as she spoke.

Prudence took a deep breath and came to a decision. She turned and knocked on Paul’s study door.

“Come in Prudence,” Paul said from within.

“I… I think I should be… that you should…” She stuttered as she obeyed.

“Close the door,” he smiled.

“I’m sorry about what happened. Is it true that you still spank Bridget?”

“Yes sometimes.”

Prudence nodded.

“Are you really going to make me ask?”

“It will be on the bare.”

Prudence heaved a sigh and returned the smallest of nods.

“I could have Bridget do it,” Paul offered.

“No I…” Prudence became alarmed. Then while her courage prevailed she reached under her skirt and tugged down her underwear.

Paul didn’t wait. Instead of the paddle, he opted for pulling her over his knee and using his hand, although he was still resolved to being harsh with her. As her skirt crested her bare bottom he felt something in the pit of his stomach swell and he became mindful that this was not his niece or sister.

“I can take the paddle,” she whispered. “I deserve it.”

“Yes you do, but not this time.”

This time? There were to be other times then, she realised and the thought unsettled her, but she knew it would be so.

His hand stung more than she could have guessed. Although he spanked slowly to his mind, to her it was relentless and she couldn’t help squirming as he spanked, both eager for the next and dreading it.

Prudence remembered Mindy’s second spanking, it had gone on for an age, and that was just her opinion. To Mindy it was have seemed like an eternity. Could she handle that much? All this and more surged through her mind as Paul, it seemed, spanked ever harder.

Paul noted that her full round bottom coloured well and her breathing had become ragged. Still she held back. He smiled at her folly.

Had she counted she would known that his swat-rate was around 70 a minute and each was as hard as the last, which was to say harder as her bottom became more sensitive. For 10 minutes she bucked and panted, all other thoughts driven from her mind, and then she just started to cry. Then when he didn’t stop, she let go and surrendered bawling until she didn’t care who heard her.

In the next room, Bridget smiled sadly, heaven knows what Mindy is thinking, she thought glancing in the direction of her humbled daughter. Then she chuckled. She wondered if it was Prudence’s first proper spanking, it was certain that it wouldn’t be her last knowing Paul as she did.

In the study, Paul spanked Prudence for another five minutes and then finally set her on her feet. That was Bridget’s cue, she decided and she went to the study door and opened it.

“Come on you,” she said maternally taking Prudence by the arm. “There is room to stand next to Mindy.”

Prudence was mortified as she was led into the family room and forbidden to drop her skirt. She wanted to protest and ask if Bridget ever suffered the same, but somehow she knew she did.

“How… how long?” Prudence asked in a far away voice.

“Until you are sent to bed,” Bridget whispered.

Paul followed them into the room and sat down with a newspaper. Although Bridget and Mindy had often stood there, today was different. There was something about Prudence’s submission and the curve of her bottom that affected him differently.

As the two young women stood next to each sniffing and displaying well-spanked bottoms, for Mindy it was an old story, but for Prudence, despite the embarrassment, there was a cosy sense of coming home.

Ends.

After all these years, she finally had a teaching position in an all-American university. Okay so it was only a minor university in the mid-west, but from little acorns, she thought happily, I am at last a bone fide college don. Well a donna, anyway, Donna giggled at her own accidental joke.

Donna’s happy mood lasted all the way to Carlton House. Then a sense of some foreboding crept in. As she walked up the paved path to the house, she was disconcerted to see a sorority pendant hanging from one of the windows. Also, there seemed to be far too many young women who appeared to be students coming form the house.

“Excuse me,” she said to the girl at the front desk. “Donna Warren. Am I in the right place?”

“Welcome to the Burnsville Ladies College at Abraham Heights University,” the girl answered automatically with just a tad too much enthusiasm. “Oh. Aren’t you kind of old for a freshman?”

“Old?” Donna bristled. “I am only 28.”

The girl laughed nervously.

“Your kidding right? I didn’t mean that you were that old, I just meant that you eh… don’t look like a freshman.”

Slightly mollified, Donna put down her bag and tried to start again.

“That’s because I am not a freshman. I am Donna Warren the…”

“Well if you’re not a freshman then I think you must be in the wrong place,” the girl said cheerfully as she continued to scan her lists. “Voight, Voller, Vynch, now where are the… are here were are, W. Wight, Willard, oh… other side just under the Vs, Warren D S, that you?”

“Donna Susan Warren, yes.” Donna said with a tight smile.

“Such a lovely name.”

“Thank you.” Donna was getting a little irritated by the over done enthusiasm by now.

“Oh you have one of the single rooms on the second floor,” the girl smiled again, handing Donna a key. “Who’d you kill?”

By the time Donna had unpacked her bags it was too late to report to the administration building. No matter she thought, there were no classes until Monday. She had all weekend to get orientated.

Just then there was some screaming in the hall outside and it sounded as if a herd of elephants were being pursued by lions. Perhaps this is just temporary? She wondered, I mean, some of these small town university’s might not have fixed accommodation for faculty. But surely sharing a building with freshman was a little odd.

*

Donna found a small diner off the main street that sold her a passable hamburger and coffee.

Overall, Abraham Heights seemed like a nice town and before she returned to Carlton House she took a turn of the town to size it up for possible long-term apartments. There were a couple of nice streets, one of them had a cute little bar on the corner where she hoped the student body did not get to. It certainly looked more like a locals bar. She made a mental note of its location and continued on.

Then a little before 10 and almost before she knew it, she arrived back at the house. She had half expected chaos with so many students in the house, but although there was a little frantic scurrying, most of the girls dashed about with purpose rather than high jinks.

Donna reached the top of her stair and turned into her corridor. The house was certainly clean and the pictures on the wall were understated and in good taste. Oh well, she thought, it will do for a week or two. I’ll check with the administration on Monday to see if they haven’t made some sort of mistake.

Just then a young woman came down the passage towards her. Unlike the other girls she had seen, she was walking very slowly. What was also obvious was that she was crying. She couldn’t have been more than 18 and Donna thought that tears looked so out of place at the start of term. Homesickness maybe?

“Are you okay?” Donna asked.

“Why don’t you boil your head,” the girl snapped.

Donna was taken aback, but before she could say anything the girl angrily crashed through the fire doors leading to the stairs.

Donna shrugged and went to her room.

*

The next day she went to the main university office, but it was closed. So, she walked around the campus and visited the English faculty instead to see if she could find some colleagues.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a beanie on campus?” Said a voice.

Donna turned around, startled, only to see a rather stern looking young woman with fiery red-hair glaring at her.

“A what?” Donna asked.

“Oh another one who hasn’t read the handbook,” the girl sighed. “Name.”

“I beg your pardon,” Donna gaped at was obviously a student, albeit a sophomore or junior maybe.

“Can you please tell me your name?” It was an order not a question, Donna noted.

“Donna Warren.”

“Warren,” the girl muttered and checked her list. “I can’t seem to find a freshman of that name.”

“What is it with this place? I am Donna Warren; I am in the English faculty. I start on Monday.”

“Oh. Oh… I… I’m terribly sorry. I thought you were… you see freshmen have to wear beanies throughout the first semester, it’s tradition.”

“My god. Do they still do that?”

Seeing that she was not in trouble, the girl grinned and began to gush about the college and its customs.

It was quite a while before Donna could slip away.

As it was, the faculty was closed except for students picking up assignments from their in-trays.

One thing Donna did see after her conversation with the earnest redhead, was a lot of young girls wearing beanies. I wonder what happens if they don’t, Donna thought idly. For some reason the image of the crying girl from the night before popped into her head and she laughed.

That evening, she went and found the bar she had scoped out the previous day. A couple of guys hit on her, but they were nice about it and didn’t push it. But she did fall in to chatting with a woman at the bar and after a couple of beers realised the time.

“Goodness me, look at the time, I have to go.” She told her temporary friend.

*

The house was dark and quiet when she arrived home at little before 11 and she was surprised to find that the front door was locked. The bell push made no sound so Donna wondered what to do. Then a rather flustered girl in her nightclothes opened the door.

“Are you nuts?” The girl looked decidedly on edge.

“I don’t think so? I am just trying to get into my room.”

“Dorm closes at 10,” the girl hissed tugging at Donna. “Quick, get in.”

“Okay, okay,” Donna laughed at the girl.

No sooner had she stepped inside the door than the girl took off.

“Strange girl,” Donna murmured and closed the door, relocking it.

It had been a long couple of days, what with the travel and the settling in, so Donna heaved a sigh and then yawned as she rubbed the back of her neck. She suddenly wished that she had one of the downstairs rooms.

She got as far as the end of the corridor where she had seen the crying girl the night before when she was confronted by a rather severe middle-aged woman.

“Have you any idea what time it is young lady?”

“Eh… yes it’s, let me see,” Donna pulled back her sleeve to look at her watch, “almost 11.”

“Impudence will get you nowhere my girl,” the woman spat.

Donna frowned and wondered if she might be drunk. One of them must be.

“Were you aware that the doors of this house are locked at 10?” The woman continued.

“That’s what the strange girl downstairs said,” Donna pointed over her shoulder. “How am I supposed to get in?”

“You are supposed to have already come home by then, don’t you read the rules?”

“Ah rules, ‘for the obeisance of fools and the guidance of wise men,’” She quoted. “Gosh, I am a little drunk. No I didn’t actually, I only arrived yesterday.”

“This is intolerable. Do you know who I am?”

“No. I’m Donna Warren, by the way. Do you live here too?”

“I am Mrs Main, the housemother.”

“The what? You have to be fucking kidding?”

“I can hardly believe my ears. Come with me this instant.”

“Your ears look fine to me,” Donna giggled. “Sorry, I really have had too much to drink.”

“Come with me,” the woman growled, seizing Donna by the ear.

“Hey. What are you doing?” Donna said with a shout as she was dragged down the corridor.

“You young brats are all the same, a few days away from home and you think you own the world. Well not in this house. In this house freshmen know their place.”

“Freshman. Not again, listen lady…”

“Don’t you ‘listen me’, you listen.”

Donna was still blustering as she was led into a large in-house apartment at the end of the hall. There she was shoved forward and told to wait there.

“Look, I don’t know…” But Mrs Main wasn’t listening as she had already gone into one of the other rooms.

She quickly emerged holding a hairbrush in one hand and an old Shaker style chair in the other. It was all getting far too surreal for Donna, who yawned and started for the door.

“Can we sort this misunderstanding out tomorrow? I’m bushed.”

But Mrs Main promptly sat down and pulled Donna over her lap.

“We are going to sort out the misunderstanding now,” the housemother growled.

Donna giggled as she flopped across the woman’s lap, not quite following what was about to happen.

“This is silly let me explain,” Donna said as she tried to get up.

“You’re not going anywhere girl. I once had the captain of the ladies rowing team in this house, she was a big girl but no match for me.”

The hairbrush stung Donna’s bottom then and she yelped.

“What the fuck?”

“Listen my girl any more of that and you won’t sit down until you graduate.”

Then Mrs main let rip with a sharp volley to the seat of Donna’s pencil skirt.

“This is… owww… please…” Donna gasped.

“Don’t tell me miss prissy has never been spanked?”

“No… certainly not… well yes but…”

The housemother brought her arm down hard and finished it with a flick for an extra hard spank.

“Which is it? Yes. No. You are certainly going to get a very sound spanking now.”

“You can’t do this I’m… yeow! Ooh.” Donna was having trouble getting the words out now.

“I certainly can young lady, it is clearly stipulated in my job contract. We have been spanking uppity brats in this house since 1899.”

“But I’m… nah…ttt a freshman… yikes! Please god… nooo!”

“I know you are a freshman. Not that it makes a difference. I have had a senior or two over my knee before now.”

“But I am not… fuuuckkk that hurt, please…”

“I see,” Mrs Main sighed.

Donna was dumped on the floor where she began to cry. The strange woman got up and went into the other room again. When she came back she was holding a bar of soap. Not that Donna was taking any notice, she was still lying on the floor dazed and confused clutching at her bottom.

Then the woman grabbed Donna by the hair and shoved the bar of soap in her mouth.

“Wahh, puh, puh…” Donna spluttered. While she did so, Mrs Main grabbed the zip of her skirt in back and drew it down. Before she knew it, she was hauled to her feet with her skirt going south and dragged back across Mrs Main’s knee.

“Now young lady I don’t want to hear another word come out of your mouth that ain’t either ‘yes ma’am’ or ‘no ma’am, do you hear?”

“Listen please… yaaah!” Mrs Main spanked down hard and then with a flourish whipped Donna’s panties down to her ankles. “My god!”

Mrs Main sighed again and began another stiff spanking volley until Donna could not draw a breath and had opted for clawing at the chair legs and kicking her feet.

“Do you understand?” Mrs main growled.

“Yes ma’am,” Donna yelped emphatically. “But please listen.”

“No, no, no, no young lady. You listen.”

Then Mrs Main set to spanking her charge with a vigour that could have rattled the china in hell. The flat of the hairbrush cracked across Donna’s round red bottom so that sound bounced back of the walls in time for the next impact. Donna would have been fascinated by the physics of it, but she had other things on her mind at that moment.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Donna sobbed.

“Do I have to spank you into next Tuesday to get you to mind me?”

“No ma’am.”

“That’s quite a bottom you have there, both before and after its spanking,” Mrs Main observed as she eyed the epic red globes. “Believe me and I have seen a few.”

“Yes ma’am,” Donna continued to sob, not daring to venture one more word.

“Good girl. Now stand up and go and put that cute button nose of yours in the corner,” Mrs Main said kindly.

“But Mrs Main… yeow!” Donna’s explanation was cut short by another round of spanks.

“Honey you got to mind me. Now what did I say? Get your cute little hiney to that corner.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Donna had never felt so stupid in her entire life. She wished she could stop crying long enough to explain properly, but she could see that the housemother was in no mood to listen. But there was nothing for it, so she limped forward to obey the batty old woman.

Once in the corner, Donna let go with heart felt sobbing while Mrs Main looked on still holding the hairbrush. She must have stood there for five or 10 minutes with a hot hard throbbing bottom before she could recover herself. Then she took a deep breath and turned to confront her tormentor.

“Mrs Main you are going to feel so silly about this… but I am not a freshman. I am…” Donna tried her confident best to assert herself, as she took up a lecturer’s stance complete with hand emphasis.

“Oh dear me,” Mrs Main said wearily. “For the last time young lady, I don’t care.”

The housemother stood up and strode towards her recalcitrant tenant and hauled her back across her lap.

“Mrs Main please listen,” Donna wailed in her panic.

“You know I used to get a girl like you maybe once every couple of years. Lately it seems that every semester I get a smart mouth who tries to tell me that they are too old to be spanked and that it ‘just isn’t done in this day and age.’” Mrs Main pinched the bridge of nose before she set to giving Donna another spanking.

Mrs Main had several grades of spanking she could give through long years of practice. There was the common or garden sound spanking that usually worked. There was the ‘you won’t sit down for a week’ exemplary spanking for the hard cases. And there was what she was about to give this girl. Her ‘you won’t ever cross me as long as you live and if you can sit down by Easter you will be lucky’ spanking.

As the spanking got underway, Donna thought she had sat on hot coals and began to screech. There was no way she could think let alone explain and even if she could have, she needed all her breath for howling the place down.

The spanking lasted for maybe 15 minutes and by the time Mrs Main was done, Donna was a sobbing wreck and her bottom was a deep muddy red with white chafe marks across its surface.

“Now are you going to stand in the corner for me until I tell you to come out?”

“Yes ma’am.” Donna sobbed.

“Good girl. At last.”

Donna was made to stand in the corner until the early hours of the morning, although it took her almost that long to stop crying and she had definitely given up trying to explain. This was a huge inconvenience for Mrs Main, but some girls just had to learn and by mid semester all her girls would be as quiet as mice except for the odd lapse, so it was worth it to take the extra trouble at the start of the school year.

“Alright, you can go to your room. And Donna is it? Don’t let me have you back in here for a while or your bottom will have quite a time of it.” Mrs Main said at last.

“Yes ma’am,” Donna said sheepishly. God I will never live this down, she thought as she gathered up her clothes and left the room without dressing.

Once she got to her room, she threw herself down on the bed and began another bought of sobbing, which lasted until she fell asleep.

*

The next day being Sunday, she stayed in her room all day. She had a lot of papers to catch up on anyway, although her mind wasn’t really on it, especially as she had to read laying face down on her bed. Furthermore she kept getting up to check her bottom in the mirror, which looked decidedly swollen and showed not the slightest sign that it was ready to turn its natural pale pink.

Even the Monday morning walk to the faculty was slow painful affair and she was certain that everyone she passed must have known she had been spanked.

The faculty office was expecting her and she was sent right into to see the head of department.

“Dr Warren, or may I call you Donna, I am Professor Stevens, please sit down.”

“Eh… I would rather stand if I may,” Donna eyed the chair with horror.

“Of course, how is the accommodation working out?”

“It’s a student hall,” Donna said curtly.

Professor Stevens frowned.

“Oh yes, now I remember. Most of our teaching staff comes from right here in Abraham Falls or at least from nearby, we don’t have staff quarters and no digs could be arranged. It was a temporary measure. Now where are my notes… ah? This is the letter I should have sent to Mrs Main, it appears I forgot to post it… she was expecting you? I mean you have a room?”

“Oh I have a room alright but…”

“Excellent, let me know if you have any problems.”

“Well there was one thing…”

“Yes?”

Donna had no idea what to say now.

“Oh nothing, it doesn’t matter. I guess I will have to speak to Mrs Main myself.”

“Splendid.” Professor Stevens turned back to his work and Donna realised the meeting was over.

*

Donna took a deep breath and knocked on the door to Mrs Main’s room.

“Come in,” came a muffled response. So Donna opened the door.

It was quite a tableau that greeted her eyes. Mrs Main was sitting on the same chair she had used two nights before, only this time it was another girl over her knee. Mrs Main’s arm was raised in mid spank and from the look of the hapless girl’s red bottom the spanking had been going on for some time.

Beyond the spanking, was another girl facing the wall with her hands on her head, her skirt tucked up and her panties around her ankles. Her bottom also looked as if it had been well spanked, both girls gently crying.

“Oh… Donna isn’t it? I was expecting someone else to join this little party. As you can see I am busy, please come back later.” Mrs Main turned back to the spanking.

“But…” Donna didn’t know what to say.

“Later,” Mrs Main snapped. “Unless you want to join them.”

Donna flushed and closed door on the scene. Now she would have to find the courage to comeback, she sighed. Then she walked back down the corridor to her room.

About and hour later there was a knock at the door.

Donna opened it on a young girl who had obviously recently been crying. From the skirt, she recognised the spanked girl in the corner.

“Mrs Main will see you now,” the girl said sheepishly.

“Oh, thank you,” Donna returned a tight sympathetic smile. Then added, “have you been with her all this time?”

The girl blushed and nodded glumly.

“Goodness, what ever did you do?”

“Sally left the tap running in our bathroom.”

“But why were you… eh punished?”

“It was kind of all our faults, we were kidding around, the four of us. There was a bit of a flood.” The girl seemed reluctant to talk, but seemed afraid to give anyone the least offence.

“Thank you…”

“Michelin.”

“Michelin.” Donna nodded and waved her thanks.

As it was, Mrs Main took ages to open the door. Donna wondered if she had heard the knock and was about to try again. Then the door opened.

“Donna. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes Mrs Main, there has been a bit of a misunderstanding… you see as I tried to tell you the other night, I am not a freshman.”

Mrs Main said nothing and waited for Donna to make her point.

“I am not an undergraduate at all,” Donna added, surely the woman could see the problem.

“Donna, it is unusual to get graduate students staying at Carlton House, but it is not unheard of… I am afraid I still don’t know what you are getting at.”

“I am a member of the faculty Mrs Main. I was assigned here temporarily but Professor Stevens forgot to inform you.”

“I see, that is highly irregular, had I known I would have objected.” Mrs Main frowned. “However, it seems that here you are. Will you be with us for the entire semester?”

Donna gaped. Had the woman nothing to say?

“I don’t know, I doubt it, but the point is you cannot expect me to be subjected to… I mean to say what you did it was entirely…”

“Miss Warren, or is it Professor?”

“Dr Warren if you wish to be formal Mrs Main.” Donna waited.

“Dr Warren. Your behaviour of the other night, coming in past curfew, drunk as well if I am not mistaken… and as for the language, your behaviour, it was an outrage. If you were my daughter, I would have spanked you so hard that you wouldn’t sit down for a month. If you have come to apologise, then I accept your apology. If you have come looking for some special privileges, then you are in the wrong place. I suggest that you find somewhere else to live.”

With that, Mrs Main closed the door on her.

“I see,” Donna said acidly addressing the closed door, “I am so glad we had that little chat.”

*

Over next few weeks, Donna tried to find alternative accommodation both on and off campus but with little luck. She also got to see a good deal more about the workings of Carlton House.

She came home one day to find two girls on their hands and knees scrubbing the front step with toothbrushes. The front of the house was marred with drying soggy paper and someone had scrawled various slogans in shaving foam.

Donna caught one of the girl’s eyes and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“A jamboree stunt for our sorority.” The girl shrugged. “Mrs Main wasn’t impressed.”

Inside there were miscellaneous bags of refuge bagged-up and waiting to go out. They showed clear signs of being the detritus of similar high jinks as had been evident outside.

There were two girls standing facing the wall either side of the staircase. In recent days Donna had seen other girls so positioned and had thought it better not to ask.

As she went up the stairs there was another girl standing in penitent vigil at almost every spare corner.

“My you girls have been busy.” Donna murmured.

At the turn from the stairwell leading to Mrs Main’s rooms things got even more interesting. Outside every room stood a girl facing her own door. Only this time her skirts were turned up and her bare red bottom was well displayed.

“Next.” Someone bellowed.

A tearful girl scurried down the hall passed Donna displaying a well-spanked bottom and disappeared down the stairs. To stand outside her own room, Donna guessed.

Sure enough, the girl who had been standing in the corner at the top of the stairs turned around and walking as if to her execution, went down the hall to Mrs Main’s room. Then a girl further down the stairs took her place.

“Good heavens this could take all night,” Donna giggled. Then humming a little tune and taking in the sights, she ambled along to her own room.

“Good evening Dr Warren,” Mrs Main called as she appeared at her door to let her next miscreant in.

“Good evening Mrs Main, busy tonight I see.”

“Every darn year it is the same. The sorority pledge mistresses know what I’ll do about this stunt of theirs, that’s why they do it. But why can’t they spank their own pledges, if that’s what they want, I have enough to do.”

“Poor you,” Donna smirked, her tongue lightly touching the inside of her cheek.

Sometimes Carlton House could be quite diverting, she thought as she went to bed. As long as she kept out of Mrs Main’s way, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

*

A few days later Donna went with some of new colleagues to the head of department’s house for dinner.

“Another cognac Donna?” Professor Stevens asked.

“Well perhaps not Professor, I have a lot on tomorrow and besides it is a bit of challenge getting into Carlton House after ten.” Donna smiled as she placed her hand over the brim of the cognac glass.

“Carlton House? But that is for… oh yes, I remember now. Are you still living there?”

“Yes I haven’t had much luck finding digs in town.”

“Oh we will have to see what we can do. But what’s this about 10 o’clock? Surely, Mrs Main has provided you with a key. I did ask.”

“As a point of fact Professor, you didn’t. If you recall you forgot to…”

“Oh…” the professor frowned. “Did I? Quite possibly I did. I don’t remember… ha ha.”

Everyone laughed, although Donna rather hollowly as she remembered the consequences of his oversight. Not that she would ever tell them.

Donna left the party and made her way home. She was cutting it fine, but she was confident that Mrs Main understood the situation now, wasn’t she?

She arrived at the front door a little after the hour and annoyingly it was locked. She felt a few butterflies as she rang the doorbell.

The door opened after a few minutes and a ghostly arm waved her in.

“If I get caught because of you… oh your not Karen?”

“No. But thanks.”

“Shit.” Karen hastened away.

Donna laughed. She could well imagine what would happen if Karen and her friend were caught.

Donna headed straight for the back stairs to come at her room from the other direction. Why not? She thought, I can go any way I like. Somewhere a door opened and closed. Mrs Main coming to see who is at the door no doubt, Donna suppressed the silly nervous thoughts at the edge of her mind. And walked briskly up the stairs to her room.

She felt a strange relief as the door to her room closed behind her. Then she shook her head. I must get somewhere to live, she thought.

The knock at the door startled her. She thought about removing her coat before opening it, but why should she?

Mrs Main was standing outside glaring at her.

“Donna.”

“Mrs Main?”

“Would you be so good as to come with me?”

“Come with you? Why?” Donna asked nervously.

“I saw your door close as I turned the corner. You have just come in have you not?”

“Yes I was at Professor Stevens’ house, we…”

“Donna. I don’t care where you have been. You were late. Now we are going to have a little chat.”

“I don’t understand,” Donna lied, her stomach becoming a tight knot.

“You know the rules. I wish you to come with me to my room right now. When we get there I am going to bare your bottom and I am going to put you across my knee for a sound spanking. If I get any resistance or back-chat from you, then you will be sorry.”

Donna’s mouth went dry and her tongue refused to do her bidding. This could not be happening.

“Mrs Main. I am a member of the teaching staff at this college. I am here temporarily and you really can’t just…”

The housemother sighed. Reaching out she took Donna by the ear and started off down the corridor with a tottering 28-year-old in tow.

“Mrs Main what are you doing? You can’t do this. I refuse to cooperate. I’m a lecturer here… please stop.”

Once in the housemother’s room Mrs Main grabbed the Shaker style chair and picked up the brush and patted the palm of her hand with it.

“You have just one minute to remove your coat, skirt and panties,” she snapped.

Donna backed away waving an impotent finger at the housemother.

“Wait just one minute, if you think for one moment that you are going to… to… Mrs Main you can’t do this.”

Mrs Main sighed again and in one smooth movement divested Donna of her coat and flipped her across her knee. Then as the younger woman struggled and began a string of expletives, first her skirt and then her panties were removed.

“Mrs Main, please. You can’t do this,” Donna wailed.

The spanking began in earnest from the start and Mrs Main spanked hard. Donna screwed up her face and tried to reach around to defend her exposed bottom, but the housemother seized her wrists and spanked all the harder.

After three or four minutes, Donna’s resolve cracked and her intermittent spluttering turned to stuttering sobs.

“Feeling it now are we?” Mrs Main said almost kindly. “Listen my girl, you come from a big city or some such and you are not used to our ways. But for the last time while you are living under this roof you will obey the rules. I don’t care who you are or who you think you are. I we clear about that?”

“Ow, please Mrs Main stop,” Donna sobbed.

“Are we clear about that?” Mrs Main repeated. Spanking out hard at each word.

“Oooh god, yeow, please.” Donna growled angrily.

“Are we clear?” Mrs Main barked putting an extra snap in the spank.

“Yes,” Donna sobbed.

“Finally,” Mrs Main said expansively as she continued to spank her errant tenant. “I am going to spank you until I am convinced that you get the message, until you tell me in a nice clear voice that you understand that you will be spanked every time you break the rules.”

“Ooh, huh-huh,” Donna choked, knowing at that moment she would do anything she was told.

After a while the spanking was paused and Mrs Main allowed Donna some time to cry. Then she asked: “Have you something to tell me?”

Donna continued to cry, but said nothing.

The spanking was resumed and Donna began to beg and mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?” Mrs Main paused the spanking again.

“I understand. You are going to spank me if I break the rules,” Donna said angrily.

“Hardly clear, what with all that crying. I do hope you have better diction when you teach.”

“Please Mrs Main, I understand,” Donna sobbed.

Mrs Main looked down at Donna’s striking red bottom and wondered if the lesson was learned.

“I really need to be convinced of that,” Mrs Main said seriously.

“Please I’ll be good.” Donna was hiccoughing a little as she wept.

“Alright. I know it’s late, but I want you to go stand in the corner until I tell you to come out. Then you will apologise and ask me nicely to give the final part of your spanking.”

“Oh please Mrs Main,” Donna sobbed feeling thoroughly defeated.

“You want another spanking first? Is that it?” Mrs Main asked. “I can make this take all night.”

Donna nodded. She had never felt so humiliated.

“You knew this would happen if I caught you didn’t you?” There was gentleness and a maternalism to Mrs Main’s question.

Donna nodded. She knew now that she did.

Mrs Main let Donna stand up and go to the corner to start what was for her an embarrassing and nervous half hour.

A while later when it had gone eleven, the housemother was ready for bed, so she brought the proceedings to what she hoped would be a close.

“Turn around,” she ordered. “Have you something to say?”

Donna looked at the hairbrush in Mrs Main’s hands and quailed.

“Please Mrs Main, I am sorry. P-please… sp… punish me a bit more.”

“You’ll do better next time if I ask it, but that will do for now,” Mrs Main said wearily. Now go to bed.

Relieved and decidedly humbled, Donna gathered up her things and walked still bare-bottomed to her room. She had a lot of thinking to do.

*

The next day, having no actual classes, Donna called in sick. So it was not until the day after that she made it back in to the faculty office. Although her bottom was still tender and she tended to wince at each step. As before she wondered if everyone knew she had been spanked by Mrs Main, but the was no real evidence of it.

“Ah Dr Warren,” the office secretary said as she entered, “glad to see you are better. You look positively glowing today.”

“Yes thank you,” Donna returned a tight nervous smiled.

“We may have found you some accommodation,” the secretary said absently.

Donna thought about the entertaining line of spanked freshman and the warm cosy feeling she had felt from the motherly Mrs Main. So it was with mixed feelings that she said: “Oh good, when can I go and see them.”

In the end, it had not turned out to be suitable and as there was another cottage available at the start of the next semester, she decided to hold out for it. After all Carlton House wasn’t so bad. At least it gave her the opportunity to see another side to college life. She wondered what the Donna Warren of a month ago would have said about that as she all but skipped home from a late faculty meeting.

Somewhere the clock chimed 9.45 and she looked around at the quaint brick college buildings that were fast becoming her home.

“Excuse me Dr Warren,” a student gushed as she rushed past.

Late home no doubt, Donna chuckled, she probably has a housemother like Mrs Main. Omigod Mrs Main. Donna looked up at the clock, it was almost 10 minutes to the hour.

“Oh shoot,” she wailed and broke into a run. It was a good 20 minutes walk to the other side of campus she thought, as she frantically cut across some forbidden grass. At least I can’t be spanked for that.

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t bring your friends over as planned honey. After all it’s not your fault.” Dana broke off from applying her lipstick for a moment and glanced at her youngest daughter, Dakota, who was standing in the corner.

Freya followed the direction of her mother’s look. Darn the little brat she thought, feeling not the least sympathy for her sister’s shiny red bottom.

“Can’t you just send her to her room?” Freya asked pleadingly.

“You know the house rules honey,” Dana said casually, putting the final touches to her make-up. “How do I look?”

“You look just great Mom,” Freya said unenthusiastically.

“No I don’t do I?” Dana grinned as she checked herself out in the mirror. “I don’t look a day over 30.”

She didn’t as well Freya thought.

“Well 41 anyway, Mom,” she said.

Dana leaned over and gave Freya a swat on her behind. It was an old joke with them.

“So are you having the girls over while I’m out?” Dana continued.

Dakota began to pray. She begged fervently to the god of the north wall of their house that Freya wouldn’t be so cruel.

“I had better not,” Freya sighed.

“Your call. See you later girls.” Dana snatched up her keys from the kitchen top. “And Dakota dear. You are to stay there until 9.30 and then straight to bed. I really hope I don’t hear that you did anything different.”

“You little brat,” Freya sneered at her sister bitterly after her mother had gone. “I mean smoking in Main Street? What a dork.”

“I didn’t know Mom would be out shopping did I?” Dakota’s tone was sullen and half-hearted.

“I have a good mind to go ahead with my plans,” Freya countered.

It wasn’t that she had any sympathy per se, Freya thought. But there was an unspoken agreement between the girls. No friends over when one of them was in jug. After all even though Freya was 20 now, next time it could very well be her in the corner.

The 18-year-old in the corner didn’t respond. One word from Freya and her life could become a living hell in oh so many ways. Not least, she could claim Dakota broke out of the corner ahead of time. And there was still the girls’ night in.

Once before, when they had been younger, Freya had sent Dakota to her room so she could have a boyfriend over. Even though her sister had another hour and a half corner time to serve. Mom had come home early.

Boyfriend was still there when the spanking commenced and the next two nights had been a bitch for both sisters. No. A postponement was the only safe thing to do.

*

Dana looked at her watch, just time to finish her evening shopping. Then with one final look at the house she drove off.

Dana always kept a nonchalant air around the subject of spanking in front of her girls, but as she drove away, she was fully aware of Freya’s dilemma, she admired her daughter’s wisdom and foresight in this.

When she had been of a similar age she had been only too pleased to find ways to humiliate her sisters, with not a thought to the fact that they would only reciprocate in kind when their chance came.

Sometimes girls never learn though, she chuckled to herself. Such petty revenge often backfired. She remembered one time that her elder sister Hope, had been spanked for coming home late form a date. Their mother had spanked her silly the next day right there in the family room with Grandma, Aunt Glenda and assorted cousins in attendance.

Hope had looked a picture of woe standing sans culets in the corner. Brian and Pete, their cousins had certainly enjoyed the spectacle of the shamed half-nude 19-year-old so humbly displayed.

“Man her face is even redder than her bottom,” the 17-year-old Brian had remarked.

Shortly afterwards Dana had got a phone call from some of her girl friends. Not only had she declined an invite to go out, but she had insisted that they come over.

That was mistake number one.

Having people drop by was one thing, taking upon yourself to arrange extra punishment for a sister was borderline mischief. Doing it when you already had a houseful of relatives was playing with fire. That was mistake number two.

“That girl is getting too big for her boots,” Grandma had said. “Not too old for a spanking herself.”

At 18, Dana would have liked to disagree, but big sis was evidence that it weren’t so.

When they arrived, the girls had been suitably impressed with Dana’s treat and had joined the younger boys in a round of teasing. Grandma’s steely stare should have been warning enough. Then Candy opened her big mouth.

“My, I do believe Hope is looking a little sick. She looks like Belinda Yates did last Saturday after drinking nine shots.”

Dana darted a glance at Grandma in case she had heard. Alcohol was a big no-no.

“Last Saturday?” Mom perked up. “Shots. You said you went to the theatre, didn’t you?”

“Candy is thinking of another time…” Dana said quickly, hoping the shots would be overlooked.

“Me and my big mouth,” Candy grinned. “I forgot we were supposed to be at the theatre. Anyway no biggy.”

Thanks Candy, Dana groaned inwardly.

“Bridget O’Leary if you don’t spank that girl at once I’ll spank you both,” Grandma scolded.

Bridget O’Leary had been Dana’s mother’s name before she married. Dana guessed it had been the domestic battle cry.

Dana remembered how her mother had blushed at the spanking threat before a mess of teenagers.

“I can handle this Mom,” her mother had growled.

“I can explain,” Dana had wailed as she was hauled over the maternal lap.

The ensuing spanking had been a treat for the gathered family and friends. Dana’s shorts had only just beaten her panties to her ankles as her bottom was bared.

Then the hairbrush had done its work.

“Don’t think you have heard the last of this my girl,” her mother had hissed.

It wasn’t of course. After spending the afternoon in the corner standing next to Hope, Dana had got an additional spanking for the shots.

It was no comfort to know that Candy had later got the same. Girls are so stupid, Dana laughed at the memory.

As she arrived at the mall, she pondered on the irony, maybe some things never change. Her husband would certainly have something to say about this little trip if he found out. But there was nothing for it; she needed a new dress for the upcoming PTA benefit dinner.

*

Dakota felt quite the fool as she stood in the corner. Freya was only a year older than her, it was too much to be held in such a shaming posture. Still it could be worse. Freya could easily have invited her gang over and then her life wouldn’t have been worth living.

“Couldn’t I just turn round at least to watch TV? I could turn right back the moment Mom came home.” Dakota wheedled.

“You can do what you like, but you know I can’t lie to Mom. It’s your butt.”

Freya was being literal. She couldn’t tell a decent lie at the best of times but she had never been able to lie to her mother. Heaven knows it had cost her enough sore bottoms to learn that.

Dakota tilted her head back and let out a heavy breath, her sister was right.

Ten minutes later she was still trying to think her way out the corner when she heard the front door open.

“Hello the house,” came her Dad’s cheery call.

“Hi Dad,” Freya said without looking up from the pages of her magazine.

“Oh,” came the weary reply. “What has she done now?”

Freya thought it best not to reply. Double spankings were not unheard of and smoking was her Dad’s pet peeve.

“Dakota?” He asked. “Do I even want to know?”

“Hi Dad,” Dakota replied a little morosely and muffled by the wall in front of her face.

“Hello Dakota,” John Guinness said dryly. Then he shook his head and walked wearily to his favourite chair.

“Can I get you some tea or coffee Dad?” Dakota asked hopefully. She could almost feel the sharp look by way of reply.

Partly out of mischief to block her sister’s lame exit plan and partly to stave off her father’s displeasure at the fact that she even tried, Freya pushed the magazine away.

“I’ll get you something Dad.”

“Coffee thanks Pumpkin.”

“I see the team bombed again,” John sighed picking up his newspaper, “by the way where’s your mother?”

“Out,” Freya shrugged. “She didn’t say where. Can I go now?”

“Sure honey,” John replied momentarily puzzled that she would ask. Then he remembered. “Oh sure, I’ll watch little miss mischief here. What she do anyway?”

Freya pulled a face as she put the coffee cup down.

“Dakota?” There was dark tone to her Father’s voice.

“I… eh… kinda… that is… well it’s like this…” Dakota began.

Freya slid out the front door with the curtest of goodbyes. This could turn ugly, she thought.

*

“Come on Frey, it will be neat,” Cassie urged.

“Oh come on, we haven’t done a mall snatch since, well I don’t know when. It’s kids stuff.” Freya remembered the last time they had quietly pocketed extra samples from the perfume stand. Her Mom had found quite a stash in back of her wardrobe and had treated her to a very imaginative punishment.

“Exactly, where is your spirit of adventure?”

“It’s stealing Cass,” Freya said with a groan.

“They are free samples. Since when is taking free stuff stealing?”

“It says customers are welcome to one free sample. One. Not as many as you can fit into your purse.”

“Yeah but, it doesn’t say one free sample only, does it? Besides what good is one small bottle of Mystique? You can only use it like once or twice and then it’s empty.”

“I think that’s the idea dummy. They want you to come back and buy some more of the shit.”

“Oh yeah, like that’s going to happen. Have you seen the price tag? One full-sized bottle comes in at about the same price I paid for my car.”

“Look let’s just take a couple each. That way if they see us they probably won’t say anything,” Freya suggested.

Back when she and Cassie had been 17, they had swiped a whole basket of Channel from the display stand. Abraham Heights Mall didn’t believe in cameras and when a kid fight had kicked off out on the concourse they had taken their chance.

Freya’s mother had found several bottles months later. She may have even turned 18 by then, she seemed to remember.

“Freya Guinness what are you doing with these?” Dana had yelled.

Freya hadn’t even remembered at first.

“Oh those. They were on sale or something years ago. I forgot all about them.” Freya hadn’t seen the danger yet.

“On sale? But this many would cost… I don’t know, more than I could afford. You say these have been here years? Where did you get the money?”

“Well they were like free samples. We kinda boosted a few extra, it’s no sweat. Just kids stuff.”

“You kind of boosted a few extra? There must be… what two dozen? And how many have you used already? You must have cleaned them out. Boosted. I think you mean stealing young lady.”

“It was last year Mom. You know I was just a kid,” Freya had a sinking feeling, it was bad enough still getting spanked at 18, but getting it for something you did a zillion years ago was crazy-ass shit. But yet here was Mom reaching for the hairbrush.

“Come on Mom…”

“Get those slacks down and the panties. You know what’s coming,” Dana was furious.

Freya hastened to obey, she knew a lost cause when she saw it. Worse, stealing meant Dad might have more to say later. A talk from Dad was the worst as he did all his talking with his belt. She hadn’t thought until that minute that what she had done was stealing.

Freya eyed the open door and blushed. Please god let Dakota be out, she prayed. Dakota was still a brat and at that time hadn’t learned to keep her mouth shut at school when it came to family spankings.

As Dana looked down on Freya’s womanish bare bottom, she harboured a few memories of her own around the matter of stealing. The brush came down with a heavy flick.

“Yah,” Freya yelped, this was going to be a good one.

And it had been. Dana had spanked her for a lifetime and a week. For a time the spanking had stolen her thought processes, but then she glanced up at Dakota in the door grinning like a cat. Freya’s nose was running a little and the tears were cascading off her chin. She could almost hear her sister’s mind formulating the juicy story she would tell at school.

Then things had gotten decidedly worse. Dana had added a long volley with the bristle side of the brush to her bare bottom.

“I’m sorry Mom,” she wept.

“Just a minute young lady we’re not done. So you like perfume do you?”

Then one by one, Dana had opened the remaining bottles and poured out the contents onto Freya’s stinging bottom. At first Freya thought she had gone crazy, but then the real burn set in. It had been like being spanked all over again and then some.

Afterwards Freya had been set in the corner. The smell was overpowering. It lasted long after the acid burn in her bottom had faded to a mute throbbing. Then she had smelled of Channel for days after. Her rep at school had been blown for months. Especially after Dakota supplied some details.

“A whole new meaning to stink-butt,” Cassie had observed as she wrinkled her nose up.

Freya still couldn’t bear the smell of Channel.

The chink of glass at the counter brought Freya back to the present.

“I thought you said we would only take a couple,” she hissed.

“No you said that, not me,” Cassie replied as she helped herself to fistful of sample bottles.

Freya made an angry gesture to the air and half-heartedly picked up a couple of small bottles.

“Get more than that,” Cassie urged as she looked around conspiratorially.

Freya reluctantly grabbed two more and started to walk away.

“Hey, it’s just one per customer Miss,” the woman at the counter called over.

“Oh sorry,” Freya blushed, dropping the swag back into the basket.

That might have been the end of it but as she looked up she saw her mother looking down at her from the upper level. Freya’s jaw dropped. There was a look on her face that did not bode well for her daughter.

*

As Freya followed her mother into the house you could have cut the air with a knife. Dakota was sobbing in the corner and it was obvious that her father had gone to work some more with his belt.

Dana threw him a questioning look.

“I made young Dakota here a little promise as regards to smoking, didn’t I pumpkin?”

“Yes Dad,” Dakota sniffed.

“What’s up here?” John threw his head in a nod towards his other daughter.

“I made similar promises with regards to petty pilfering some time back. I think it’s time to collect,” Dana scowled.

“But Mom you don’t understand. I was just…”

“Do you remember the conversation we had last time?” Dana said simply.

“But really I didn’t…”

“Do you remember that conversation?”

Freya looked sideways and worked her mouth, then with one last futile attempt to shake an adequate explanation out, she rolled her eyes up and sighed: “yes.”

“Bring me your phone,” Dana said with an ominous finality.

Freya swallowed a little and a quizzical frown crossed her brow.

“My phone?”

Dana gave her a deadly look and began to scribble something on the kitchen pad.

Freya pulled her phone from her purse and handed it to her mother.

“You keep it for a minute. I want you to read this out and record it as your answer message.”

Freya took the note and scanned it. Then her mouth formed a perfect O.

“Oh Mom, look, you just can’t please.”

“Do it.”

“I won’t.” Freya threw the phone down and folded her arms.

“Very well,” Dana retorted snatching up the phone.

After extensive fiddling with the options and some muttered curses, Dana managed to find what she was looking for.

“To who it may concern. This is Freya’s mother. Freya is grounded until further notice. She has also been spanked. She will be spanked again in the open garage at the side of her house this coming Sunday at three. Thank you for your understanding.”

“Mom please,” Freya made a grab for the phone.

“Does that work with the phone off?” Dana asked, stepping back out of reach. “Dakota?”

Dakota nodded without speaking.

Dana turned the phone off and slipped it into her own purse.

“Now young lady. Get those slacks down we have some unfinished business.”

Freya considered begging, running and just about anything else, but instead she pulled a face like sour lemons and began to undo her pants belt.

“Honey, your mother is coming over later,” John offered. “Maybe this could wait.”

“I can see no reason why Mom shouldn’t see what happens to naughty girls in this house. After all, it isn’t something she hasn’t seen before.”

With a shrug, John made himself scarce. He had seen enough family disharmony today. As he left, a very bare-bottomed Freya was tipped over her mother’s lap there in the family room and the first swat had landed before he even reached the door.

“Come on Mom. I’m too old for this,” Freya wailed.

“I beg to differ young lady,” Dana growled as she set to with a rapid volley.

Out in the hall John was still distracted and tripped over Dana’s shopping bags. He was about to take them to the kitchen when he noticed they were clothes not food. The receipt on the top told an interesting story.

In the room Dana spanked on at one swat per second, which really lit a fire in Freya’s tail and set the tone for the next 10 minutes.

“Oh please Mom, it was all Cassie’s fault,” Freya wailed like a snivelling 12-year-old.

“You know the sad thing is I believe you. When are you going to grow up and stop listening to that brat?”

Dana applied her hairbrush to the sitting area with a will. The impacts lifting Freya’s bottom and pushing Freya forward so that she looked like she was trying to swim away.

“I’m sorry Mom, I’m sorry,” Freya boo-hooed.

“Oh look I missed a spot,” Dana replied, redoubling her efforts. “Now for the last time, don’t ever let me catch you stealing again or it will be more than just a hairbrush I spank you with and I might even sell tickets.”

At some point Freya’s panties and slacks were kicked across the room. Not that she needed them as immediately the spanking was over she was marched over to stand next to Dakota and warned with dark threats about the consequences of even thinking about moving her nose form the wall.

“And that goes for you as well,” Dana snapped at Dakota.

There was a ripple of applause behind her and Dana turned to see her husband standing there.

“Well done. There have been too many promises broken in this house by unthinking brats,” he said.

There was something about John’s expression that made Dana nervous.

“Yes smoking, stealing, it makes you wonder if we are doing something wrong,” Dana sighed.

“I know how you feel. Smoking, stealing, overspending on the card limit, buying dresses one doesn’t need after promises were made, you know, the usual thing.”

Dana saw the receipt in her husband’s hand and her heart deflated in her chest.

“Isn’t this where you say, ‘I can explain darling’?” John frowned. “Or ‘where ever did that come from’?”

“Ah.” Dana winced. “You’re not thinking what I think you are thinking are you?”

“And what would that be?”

“Maybe you are thinking that a little spanking might be in order?” Dana returned a sickly grin moved her hands behind her bottom.

“No of course not. I was thinking no such thing.” John pulled a mock sympathetic face. “A little spanking? No. I was thinking that a very sound spanking would be more appropriate.”

Dana blushed as she realised that her daughters were very much still in earshot.

“Can we take this upstairs?” Dana asked in a small voice.

Having taken of his sweater, John began to roll up his shirtsleeves.

“No.”

Dana made a bolt for the door but was intercepted halfway across the room. John manoeuvred her across his knee as he sat on the couch. Then he set about pulling up Dana’s loose skirts as she struggled to keep them down.

Once he had managed the folds into the small of his wife’s back, he hooked his thumb in the elastic of her underwear and slid her panties all the way down to her ankles.

“Please not in front of the girls,” Dana wailed.

“They have their backs turned, so it is hardly in front of them,” John chided.

“Please John I’m sorry,” Dana panicked a little.

“I think later, you will feel my belt. But I want you to take this on account.”

John gave her a smart wristy slap to her bare bottom, leaving a mark.

“As tight and neat as the day I married you,” John said in admiration as he studied her bottom.

“Ooh, you beast,” Dana squawked.

John let go with a full satisfying set of swats, admiring the way his wife’s bottom quickly went from white to a healthy red.

“Maybe I should try that brush,” he said, spanking her a little more.

“Don’t you dare.”

John hefted it for a moment and then with a nod tried it out for size.

“Yah,” Dana announced loudly.

“Much better,” John said with a grin.

For the next 15 minutes he set about giving Dana a spanking to rival the one she had just handed out to Freya.”

Dana didn’t resent it exactly. She knew she deserved it and had they been upstairs she would have looked forward to saying she was sorry. But getting spanked in the same room as your daughters was embarrassing. Not that they didn’t know he spanked her, but that was beside the point at that moment.

“Are we done?” John asked with a final swat.

“Yes sir,” Dana wept.

“Alright, off to face the wall with you,” John said, almost kindly.

“What?”

“Put your nose to the wall next to Freya,” John ordered. “Unless you want some more?”

“Yes sir,” Dana sniffed and hurried to stand between her daughters.

John surveyed the three reddened bottoms lined up against the wall and leaned back with a sigh.

“Nothing like good old family values,” he said expansively.

“Coo-ey,” someone called. John recognised his mother-in-law’s voice.

“Oh god John, send her away,” Dana gasped from her place at the wall.

“I offered to let you handle this later, besides it isn’t something she hasn’t seen before,” John said with a chuckle, throwing his wife’s earlier words back at her.

John got up to greet his guest only to see that his sister-in-law and the kids had arrived.

“I brought Hope, if you don’t mind,” Bridget said. “It’s OK I brought extra… oh my.”

“Have you just put down a rebellion or did they each manage a separate gig?” Hope began to giggle.

Dana and Freya were both thinking that things just could not get worse. Then the twins, who were fighting and spilled into the room. Oh but they could, Dana groaned inwardly.

“Aunt Dana,” the two 16-year-olds squealed together in surprise.

“Hush you two,” Hope said suppressing a smile and tried to sound stern. “It’s not like you two haven’t got the same before now.”

Dana cursed the PTA and all its evil works and wanted to melt away with her drying tears.

Freya could only think about the phone. Any chance of getting her mother into a good mood and letting her off that part was fast dissolving with each of her cousins’ giggles.

Please let this day end, she silently begged the universe. It was going to be a long evening.

Casey and Joanne were running around and around the luggage carousel pretending to be airplanes.

“Girls please,” Heather said half-heartedly as she rubbed her temples trying to stave off the impending headache.

“We’re taking off,” the four-year-old Casey sang.

“I’m landing,” Joanne said in a tone redolent with ‘so there.’

“I’m landing too now,” Casey amended taking her cue from her older sister.

“Good,” Heather whispered to no one in particular. Then turning back to the luggage carousel she spied the red suitcase with the happy face sticker and the small banner with her name, Heather Barton, running down the side. Only since the divorce it was Heather Crow again.

The case, she remembered, had been a wedding present and the sticker had been acquired on their first holiday before Joanne had arrived. Not much to show for seven years of marriage, she thought. Apart from the girls that is and she amended, managing a smile. If only that bastard had kept up with the maintenance payments, she could have killed him; fancy going bankrupt searching for gold in Alaska of all things.

Then taking a deep breath she made a grab for the suitcase and called the girls to her. As she did so she noticed a man offering her an admiring look. Well, I’m only 29, she consoled herself, there are plenty more men out there.

*

“So the house is definitely gone?” Meredith Crow asked as she came back with the coffee.

Heather glanced out at her two daughter’s playing in their grandmother’s garden to make sure that they weren’t listening then turned back to her mother.

“Oh yes, we are now officially homeless,” Heather sighed, “that bastard…”

“Hey young lady, I don’t care how old you are, I still won’t have that language in my house,” Meredith scolded.

“Sorry but… but what I am going to do now?”

“You’re welcome to stay here, all three of you, we have plenty of room. Ever since she joined that sorority, Melanie has a room in halls now and Anita has her own place,” Meredith assured her daughter as she took a sip of coffee. “Shall we sit down?”

The two women moved into the lounge.

“Mother, I suppose I knew you would say that, but I can’t… I mean, I have no savings and no job, so I can’t pay you anything. I don’t even know how I am going to get food and clothes for the girls.”

“Oh hush now,” her mother reassured her, “that’s not what worries me. The girls will be fine, but what about you? It will be quite a change from the big city. After all you couldn’t leave Abraham Heights fast enough after you met Charlie. Even Anita hasn’t gone very far.”

Just far enough to escape your hairbrush, Heather thought ruefully. Instead she said, “I went to college here, I still have friends. I might even get a job.”

“True enough, but it will be quite a while before you can get a place of your own, living back under the family roof will be quite a challenge for you I expect.”

“Oh I don’t know…” then as if remembering something Heather broke off and looked quizzically at her mother from over the top of her coffee cup, “what do you mean?”

“You know how this family works,” Meredith chuckled casually, it not having occurred to her that Heather hadn’t realised that she would be under the same house rules she had held to before she had married. “You know what I mean, having a curfew again and the little matter of Sunday evenings…”

“Mother I’m 29, you can’t be serious…”

“Of course I’m serious, what do you mean?”

Heather gaped for a moment as she remembered how until the age of 22 she had been required to be home by 10.30 and had still been subjected to maintenance spankings every Sunday.

“Mother if you think for one minute that you are going to…”

“Mommy, Mommy, I found a flower,” Casey squealed as she burst through the garden doors followed by her sister.

Heather flushed at the intrusion as if her daughters could follow what was being said.

“Don’t take on so, you’ll soon fall right back into it,” Meredith beamed, reaching out to pat her daughter’s arm before turning to see what her grandchildren had found.

*

Heather was lost in thought as she did a slow turn of her old neighbourhood. Surely mother could see that she was far too old to be spanked and what she proposed was ridiculous.

“Heather? Heather Crow isn’t it?” The voice came from behind her. As she turned she did a double-take.

“Professor Archer,” the words froze along with the smile on her face.

“I thought you had moved away,” he said offering her his hand.

Roland Archer had been her tutor for extra studies back in the day. He had provided additional guidance for her all the way through college; a happenstance that had been brought about by her father and series of bad grades during her first semester.

“So had I,” she said smiling sweetly, “so nice to see you.”

“I am so sorry to hear about your divorce,” he frowned appearing not to notice her reluctance to talk. He did however see her start a little and so quickly explained, “Your sister Mel, I tutor her now you know.”

“Oh, I didn’t know, mother didn’t say,” Heather said wondering how that titbit had not escaped mother’s gossip round-up.

“Your mother… I was under the impression that your parents were away somewhere, your sister Anita made all the arrangements.” Roland looked puzzled for a moment and then recovered his smile.

“Anita? Did she? I see,” Heather said carefully, “I’m sure that’s fine.”

Anita had always had such a crush on her tutor and had certainly been the one who had benefitted most from his tuition. She had never seemed to mind his rather unorthodox was of instruction, not even when she often could not sit down for days at a time afterwards.

Heather on the other hand, had always found his motivational and disciplinary ways a little trying. Even after all these years her nightmares always featured being late to one of his tutorials and a trip over his darn pouf. Usually bottom up and naked below the waist. She now suspected that Mel had got herself into some trouble that mom and dad didn’t know about and Anita was bailing her out somehow.

“Oh well, good luck with the little minx,” Heather said with a cheery wave as she backed away.

“Oh I find Mel much better behaved than you ever were,” Roland chuckled. “I hardly have to spank her at all.”

Heather blushed and turned, offering up a grimace as she hurried away.

*

Prudence Trencher sat uneasily in the Horn Street Coffee Shop. Before sitting down she thought that she was over the worst, but that was before she realised that the orange coffee shop seats had no padding at all. The reason for her discomfort was that just three days before Paul Heaver had spanked her yet again. It was becoming quite a habit, she thought ruefully as she reached for the spoon, a motion that caused her to wince and grab involuntarily at where her bottom met the seat.

At that moment Donna Warren happened to look over from the opposite table in time to catch the tell-tale gesture and she looked for just a moment too long.

Prudence blushed and quickly looked away. She wondered if the woman one table over had guessed her secret. As it turned out, she needn’t have worried, for Donna had her own tender secrets.

The previous evening, the facility meeting had overrun by 40 minutes and despite her attempts to make her excuses for an early exit, Professor Stevens kept drawing her back into the conversation. When the gathering had finally come to an end, it was all Donna could do to walk with any kind of dignity for the exit. As it was, as soon as she turned the corner out of sight of the main door she broke into a run. She had had four minutes to make a normally 15 minute walk. It was just possible.

In the end she failed by less than 30 seconds. As she reached the door of Carlton House she heard the sickening sound of the latch being drawn. In her tearing rush she hadn’t been able to stop so after crashing headlong into the door it was Mrs Main who had opened it.

“Dr Warren, how nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Mrs Main had said icily.

“Mrs Main, you know how these facility meetings…”

Mrs Main pulled a face of exaggerated nonchalance and shook her head.

“You keep telling me such things,” she said dismissively, “but I really don’t care. I think under the circumstances we will have our little talk after tomorrow’s evening meal. Good night Dr Warren, sleep tight.”

Donna sighed, she really needed to get some better accommodations, she thought bitterly.

At that moment the coffee shop door opened and Heather Crow walked in.

Donna thought that the woman looked as miserable as she felt. I bet she isn’t going to get a spanking, she thought bitterly, as she finished her coffee.

Heather looked around the coffee shop desperately hoping that there would be no more familiar faces from her past. Then seeing only two women her own age and an old lady she very vaguely recognised, she sat down. What the hell am I going to do about mother and her crazy idea that I still needed maintenance spankings, she thought as her unseeing eyes ran down the beverage menu. Behind her concerns about the proposed Sunday spanking, was the very real implication that her mother was putting down a marker for other future spankings if she should, in her parents view, misbehave. What was it with this town and spanking anyway, she wondered, remembering her encounter with her former spanking mentor Professor Archer outside. What was that about Mel and an arrangement with Anita? What was going on anyway?

Then the girl arrived to take her order.

“What can I get you ma’am?” Freya Guinness asked.

Although she was not that busy Freya had been slow to notice the new customer on account of her attention being taken up with watching Prudence Trencher, the Prep-School teacher. Despite the fact that the woman was at least 28, Freya was absolutely certain that she had been spanked. And Freya really ought to know about that.

“Cappuccino thank you,” the woman answered.

“Coming right up,” but her eyes were on Prudence even as she spoke.

Not that Heather had noticed; she had another puzzle to solve.

*

Anita was home that day and had fixed on painting her toenails when there was a ring at the door.

“Coming, hold up,” she called as she got unsteadily to her feet and began to ‘robot-walk’ across the room with her toes separated by cotton wool.

Through the frosted glass the figure on the other side of the door looked familiar and for a moment Anita thought it was her mother and her buttocks tensed.

“Oh no, what have I done now?” she groaned.

Then she remembered that her mom had insisted on having her own key and usually just came in with a cheery hallo. As it was obviously a woman and axe-murders were rare in Abraham Heights, she didn’t faff with the spy hole but swung the door open.

“Heather,” she squealed forgetting her feet and hugging her sister big time.

“Hey kid, how’s tricks?” Heather asked returning the hug.

“Oh same old, same old, I got the day off. How comes you knew?” Anita ushered Heather in.

“I called in at Bart’s and they told me you were home working today.”

Bart’s, or Bartholomew, was the lawyer’s office where Anita worked as a paralegal.

“Oh yeah, working,” Anita grinned. “I’ll do that too.”

“Same old Anita,” Heather laughed. “Now suppose you tell me what the deal is with Roland Archer?”

“Oh that,” Anita winced and then in a slight panic asked, “Mom doesn’t know does she?”

“Not yet,” Heather shrugged, “but doesn’t know what, exactly?”

At first Anita was reluctant to talk, but little by little Heather drew it out of her.

“So Mel was actually put on probation? Or was she just threatened?” Heather asked trying to get it clear.

“Well as far as I can work out her supervisor stopped short of an official probation so long as Mel could verify that she was getting help with her studies, that’s how mom and dad didn’t find out.”

“I don’t understand, are you the guarantor for her improved performance in some way or… well what was that bit about her sorority?”

“The sorority spoke up for her, you know how they are, but of course they can’t exactly teach her themselves. They just provided her with, how can I say? Some added incentives.”

“I can imagine how that was done,” Heather rolled her eyes up.

“It’s not so bad,” Anita chuckled remembering her sister’s dread of all things spanking.

“No, you never did mind that so much did you? God gave you an iron backside when he was handing out bottoms.”

Anita smirked and began removing the cotton wool from between her toes.

“Anyway, Mel came to me rather than Mom and I remembered Professor Archer.”

“But what if Mom and Dad find out?” Heather asked in horror.

“Then Mel and I will eat standing up until little sis’s graduation I expect, you too now since you’re living back home; unless you tell on us that is.”

“I hardly think so,” Heather demurred, but couldn’t quite meet Anita’s eyes. “Anyway why would Mom spank you, you are shot of all that now and anyway you only tried to help?”

“Try telling Mom that,” Anita said ruefully.

“You don’t mean…?”

Anita sucked in her cheeks and shrugged.

“Not maintenance as well?” Heather asked aghast.

Anita shook her head, but then caught Heather blushing.

“You?”

“Of course not,” Heather lied.

*

Donna stood outside Mrs Main’s door unable to knock with a whole riot of butterflies assailing the inside of her tummy. It had been the third time she had tried to see Mrs Main but each previous occasion there had been other girls or someone else passing by and Donna just knew that if she was seen going in then everyone would know why she was there. Now finally the corridor was empty and Donna could not bring herself to knock.

She checked her watch, just two minutes and she would be late. A sound at the stairwell near the other end of the corridor made up her mind and as if by their volition her knuckles rapped the door.

No reply. Donna looked around quickly, certain now that someone would come. She knocked again. She began to dance in the silence that followed, which as impelling as any music. Please Mrs Main, she thought, this is so unfair.

She was about to knock again when the door opened.

“Dr Warren, come in,” Mrs Main said absently without really looking at her.

Mrs Main walked over to her desk, her reading specs perched severely on her nose. Thankful that the door was safely closed, Donna hovered in the middle of the room.

“Well?” Mrs Main asked, looking back at her.

“You… you wanted to see me,” Donna answered, a little puzzled.

“Yes, yes I know, but what are you waiting for?”

“Excuse me?”

“Skirt and panties folded neatly on that chair and the go and stand and face that wall until I am ready for you.”

“But…” Donna wanted to cry. It had never been this way before and she guessed it was the normal procedure with the other girls. I suppose I am well and truly being put in my place, she thought bitterly. She thought about passive resistance, but Mrs Main had taught her better on previous occasions.

Mrs Main glanced back from her place at her desk and peered at Donna over her spectacles. Donna needed no other warning and hastily began to fumble with the zip of her skirt. Less than 90 seconds later she was naked below the waist except for her socks and standing to face the wall.

Donna felt so foolish half-naked with a chill about her thighs and bottom while Mrs Main ignored her. Then she realised that she had glimpsed other girls standing here from the door. What if someone comes? Donna was under no illusion that Mrs Main would make the least concession for her position. Maybe they won’t recognise me, she hoped desperately. Then she remembered the spanking and how much it would hurt and she had sharp intake of breath as if a prelude to a good cry.

“I realise that this is difficult for you Dr Warren, but I really do think it is for your own good. And I think you know that too or else you would have made greater strides to find alternative accommodation,” Mrs Main said almost kindly. “I won’t be long.”

The last statement turned out to be a lie, or at least so it seemed from where Donna was standing. But finally and all too soon Donna heard Mrs Main stand up behind her. The upright chair was moved into the centre of the room and something hard scraped against the wood of the desktop.

“Alright come here,” Mrs Main said at last.

Donna turned nervously and saw Mrs Main sitting in the Shaker-style chair with the hairbrush on her lap.

“Quickly now girl, before I have my rounds.”

Donna walked briskly towards the housemother until her thighs were touching the rough material of her skirt. For an instant she felt a feeling like home, but then she was pulled unceremoniously over Mrs Main’s lap and reality set in.

“This is ridiculous,” Donna whispered sullenly.

“I’m glad you realise that,” Mrs Main said almost kindly.

The crack of the brush was sharp and Donna jerked forward at its impact. But there was no time to consider it, for before she could even cry out, the tangy spot on her bottom gained a sister which was harsher than the first. In very sort order Donna was hugging at Mrs Mains calves with one hand and a chair leg with the other. Her breathing was already fast and ragged, as if she had been running.

“That’s it, just accept it and it will soon be over,” Mrs Main soothed.

The spanking that followed was standard fare for the housemother and if truth were told not as harsh for Donna as her previous adventures in ‘lap land.’ However, it hurt just the same and after five minutes or so Donna’s coarse breathing gave way to sobs and tears began to flow.

The worst part was the submission. Mrs Main had in just a handful of spankings reduced her to a little girl who comes meekly for her punishment. That thought was the last barrier and Donna began to sob hard.

“That’s a good girl,” Mrs Main said quietly as she brought the spanking to an end. “Let’s have you back in the corner for a bit and then you can go.”

“Yes Mrs Main,” Donna said doing her best to recover herself.

Corner time afterwards was almost welcome, therapeutic even.

*

When Carlton Crow had first heard that his eldest daughter and two children were coming to live with them he had not been enthusiastic. In the last year he had got rid of both his younger daughters and could finally organise the yard the way he liked it. Yet here he was on a sunny fall day watching his granddaughters running around filled with joy and all three of his daughters helping in the kitchen and realised that this was the first time in a long while that his whole family would be around the table for a meal. He stooped to pick up a stray leaf from the grass and then considered that it was the first of what would soon be many. Just time for a smoke, he thought taking up his pipe.

“Now Anita if you could just slide the pie into the oven and we are all set,” the last five words were said slowly and with relish.

“Looks good Mom,” Melanie beamed as she hovered over the white disk of pastry balanced carefully in Anita’s arms.

Only Heather seemed distracted and stared into space tapping a spoon idly against her cheek.

“Don’t do that,” Meredith scolded.

“Sorry Mom,” Heather said and put the spoon down.

“Hey Mom, I can’t stay long after lunch, I have to shoot,” Mel said, with most of her attention still fixed on the pie.

“Sure honey,” Meredith said as she casually reached out to grip Heather gently by the arm for an affectionate squeeze.

“When do you have to go Anita?” Heather asked as casually as she could.

“Oh, I’m in no rush. I might stay for a bite this evening if I may?”

“Of course dear,” Meredith enthused, “that would be fine won’t it Heather?”

“Sure, fine,” Heather said decidedly unenthusiastically.

Anita cast an eye in her sister’s direction and was about to ask what the problem was, but at that moment her nieces piled into the kitchen with yet another weed to show her.

“Aunt Anita look at the pretty flower,” Casey gushed.

Meredith knew what was wrong, but she thought better of saying anything. Her girl was home and that was mighty fine with her, but she just had to get used to the family way of doing things. If Anita was still here for Heather’s spanking, then she was here, but it didn’t change a thing.

*

Even Anita had detected an air of tension by the time they say down for an evening meal. Although she could not identify the cause at the back of her mind something familiar tickled her insistently, something she couldn’t quite remember.

“I wonder how Melanie is doing with her studies,” Carlton mused as he cut himself another piece of leftover pie from lunch. Heather and Anita exchanged a quick nervous glance.

“That was our bit grandpa,” five-year-old Joanne said with a pout.

“There is plenty to go around,” Carlton chuckled.

“Anyway, who says it was your bit?” Meredith scowled at her granddaughter.

“You did granree-ma,” Casey chipped in, “’oo said we wud ave it for later.”

“Did I?” Meredith said indulgently, smiling again. “I think someone needs to go to bed so that mummy and I can have a little talk.”

“Yes I’ll get them moving,” Heather said quickly. “We’ll save the pie for tomorrow, won’t we grandpa?”

“Oh to be sure,” Carlton said with a mouthful of pie.

Anita looked up suspiciously. There was something about the way her mother had said ‘little talk.’ It was on Sunday afternoons like this that the girls had been used to getting maintenance spankings all through their teens and long afterwards. Surely not, Anita all but gaped. She looked again at her elder sister and thought back to just how many spankings she had had to suffer at her mother’s hands since moving into her apartment. It was very tempting to stick around to find out, but not only might Heather decided to share her little secret with the family, but her mother might get it into her head to extend the maintenance spanking regime to her.

“I suppose I had better get going myself,” Anita said a little too casually as she rose to go.

“Alright dear, come around again soon now won’t you?”

*

“I thought I would never get them to bed,” Heather said with a sigh as she collapsed on to the sofa.

“I remember what you were like at that age,” Meredith said wistfully.

Carlton looked at his wife significantly and then at his daughter.

“I think I’ll see out the last of the daylight in the yard,” he said.

Heather glanced at the gathering gloom and wondered if there was all that much light left to see out.

“Now I think we should go down to the den don’t you?” Meredith said grasping her thighs determinedly and standing up.

“Mother look,” Heather began, “I really am too old for this. I haven’t even done anything.”

“Oh so if you had done anything then you wouldn’t be too old? Is that what you’re saying?”

Heather took a deep breath and was suddenly 17 again, a time when she had first started to rebel against her mother’s spanking regime.

“I have been married and… well no Mom, I am way too old for this…” That, she realised had come out wrong. Damn it, why did she feel like a kid again? This morning when she woke up she had had a speech all rehearsed in her head and had been determined to make it clear that there was no way she was going to start be spanked again.

“Come on, enough of this or you will be in trouble and I’ll have to fetch your father.”

Heather gasped as a prelude to a protest and did a quick one-step dance as she had as a teenager usually prior to saying “it’s not fair.” Instead she said, “I haven’t done anything I don’t see why… well I don’t see why you should spank me at all.”

Heather hated that she had adopted the same pout that she had all those years ago.

“Heather Crow you have been too long out in the world doing what you want. Look where that got you, divorced and broke. Now am I going rein you in as I believe you need. Now stop all this fuss and come with me this minute.”

Heather began her anxious dance again and opened her mouth for another round of protests, but this time Meredith seized her by the ear and led her down the half-steps to the family den.

“But Mom the girls…” Heather wailed.

“They are asleep. And anyway no one will hear us down here,” Meredith said impatiently.

Then seeing there was no time for subtlety, she sat on the couch and hauled he reluctant daughter across her lap.

“Please Mom can’t we talk about this?” Heather wailed as her skirts were flipped up to reveal her panties.

“As often as you like honey,” Meredith said as the panties descended to Heather’s knees.

“This is too much,” Heather groaned.

Meredith imparted a sharp spank to her daughter’s bottom which extracted an angry squeal. It had been a long time she had been properly spanked and Heather had forgotten how much it hurt.

Upstairs in the yard Carlton examined his tools and wondered if it wasn’t time to replace some of them. Although he knew what was taking place in the den, the sudden report and cry of pain took him by surprise.

“Looks like you lose the bet Carlton,” Carlton said to himself. He had been convinced that a headstrong girl like Heather would have refused to cooperated with a spanking. Not that he wouldn’t hesitate to take a strop to his eldest if it should become needful, but a maintenance spanking was something else.

“I guess deep down you know this is what you need my girl,” he said to his angle saw.

Down in the den Heather’s bottom was a pronounced red and she had taken to hugging into a cushion from the couch as she grunted and gasped at every impact.

“Am I going to get anymore arguments from you about taking a spanking Heather Crow?” Meredith asked darkly as she imparted another spank.

“I still don’t see…” Heather gasped, her face as red as her bottom.

“Then I shall just have to make you see,” Meredith snapped spanking extra hard.

“Yeow, alright I get it,” Heather growled angrily.

“You are going to get it alright,” Meredith said adding renewed vigour to the spanking. “Maybe I should get the paddle and really make my point.”

“No Mom I’m sorry,” Heather wailed, by now moist-eyed and panting hard.

“You’ll get a maintenance spanking every Sunday from now on and I don’t want to have to bring the subject up again, do you hear me?”

“Yes Mom.”

“You’ll come find me after Sunday supper every week and tell me you’re ready is that understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Heather gasped.

“Alright we’re done,” Meredith said soothingly.

“Oh Mom,” Heather wailed, squirming up for a hug and bursting into tears. “I messed things up, I’m so sorry.”

“Hush, it will be alright, you get yourself back on track you wait and see.”

Meredith hugged her daughter for the longest while until Heather was herself again.

“Alright, you can do you corner time down here,” Meredith said to spare her the indignity of her father seeing her. She watched for further sign of a rebellion, but Heather just nodded and holding her skirts up walked over to face the wall.

“I’ll be back in 30 minutes so you hold tight.”

“Yes ma’am,” Heather sniffed.

The room was moderately lit with red velvet curtains at each corner and an ornate table at one end. On it stood a single candle, an open book, a large globe with a brass mounting and a half-naked kneeling sorority pledge.

Out of the seven women in the room, four were collegians and three were pledges. The older girls, still known as actives in the backwater sorority of Abraham Heights, were immaculately dressed in skirts and blazers with Greek letters on the breast pocket.

Their leader Catherine Marks was a polished brunette with a cascade of hair held in place with a white broad hairband that framed her heart-shaped face. In one hand she held a long thin paddle, polished to a sheen from years of use on the proffered bare bottoms of a thousand rueful pledges.

Catherine smirked as she caught Amy Sothern’s eye as she tested the paddle for its weight.

Amy was a cool blonde with family connections that went all the way to Boston. Not that that had saved her bottom back in her pledge days. Just a year before she had been her bending over in the middle of this very room with her behind displayed much as the hapless sandy-haired Tammy Jacob was now.

“Are we ready for the next question? That last one was far too easy,” Davina Davis drawled from a seat next to the red-headed Helen Hart.

Davina was another failed ivy-leaguer whose family had stumped up the fees for the more motivating Abraham Heights University. Her full bee-stung lips formed a pout as she cast her eye over Tammy’s bared bottom.

“Okay, okay, I’m just warming up,” Amy said defensively as she turned back to the globe on the table in front of her.

Next to the large ornate sphere the pledge on her knees and elbows had her nose just inches from the surface of the globe. It was a posture that elevated her uncovered bottom to an obscene effect as the T-shirts slipped into the small of her back. In fact all three pledges had to contend with wearing nothing more than oversized gift shirts that barely reached their thigh-tops. When they were standing upright that was. When they were bent over not much was covered at all.

“Speaking of warming-up, poor Tammy here must be getting cold waiting for you to ask another question,” Catherine chuckled, “You do like geography questions don’t you Tammy?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Tammy squeaked.

“Do you like geography Anna?” Catherine asked the remaining pledge who stood with her nose in the corner to the left of the table.

Anna was of Chinese descent and had been born in Abraham Heights just a mile from this very room. Corner time followed by a spanking held no novelty to her. Even now she faced the indignity of the corner with her small neat bottom polished to a cherry sheen peeking out from under the hem of her raised shirt. It had been the result of seven out of 12 possible swats from her previous test. If the rumours were true she faced at least another two rounds before the actives were satisfied enough to release her for further ordeals.

“Not so much,” she muttered tartly.

“What was that?” Catherine’s eyes narrowed.

“No Ma’am,” Anna said hastily, “I don’t care for geography.”

“Get on with it can’t you?” Helen said wearily, “We have another score of pledges to test.”

“Okay, okay,” Amy said in irritation, “Pledge, spin that globe.”

The pledge on her knees on the table extended a clumsy tongue and attempt to spin the globe. For a moment her wet appendage slipped on the cool tin surface and then the great ball began to turn.

“That will do Charlie,” Amy said to the girl. And then to the room she said, “Mongolia. What is its capital?”

“Ulan Bator,” Tammy said without hesitation.

Catherine sighed in frustration.

“Population of Mongolia?” Amy asked quickly.

“Eh…” Tammy wailed.

“Wrong answer,” Catherine said with glee and let the paddle land with a heavy splat across the girl’s bare bottom.

Tammy gasped and rocked her behind to shake out the sudden sting.

“Okay spin the globe again Charlie,” Amy said cheerfully.

Tammy didn’t know the capital of Wales, the largest country in Africa or on what line of latitude Berlin stood. The paddle was unmerciful in expressing its disapproval.

Charlie fared little better. Geography had never been her strong suit and apart from a question about Paris she got all her answers wrong. Helen was appalled and awarded Charlie’s sore red bottom an extra four swats for her ignorance.

“Thank you Ma’am, may I have another?” Charlie groaned, a tear spilling down her face.

The swat came in hard causing the girl to lurch forward in a dangerously sloppy way.

“Careful,” Helen warned.

Getting out of position was a paddling offence and then she would be made to sit the whole test again.

“Thank you Ma’am, may I have another?” Charlie said again through gritted teeth.

“Certainly,” Helen said obliging her.

Anna was better much better and Amy had to resort to asking some creative questions to catch her out

“Is Han Sin east or west of Beijing?” she asked.

“Where?” Anna asked.

The paddle landed across her shiny red bottom in triumph.

“It’s one of your lot, surely you know,” Amy giggled.

Catherine frowned and shot her friend an angry glance so that Amy blushed.

“I only meant…” she stuttered.

“You are on a warning,” Catherine scolded her; “I mean it.”

“Sorry,” a mortified Amy replied.

“Anna forgives her, don’t you Anna?” Davina said gently as she patted the Asian girl’s bottom with the paddle.

“Oh yes Ma’am,” Anna said sourly, “But I have never heard of… what was it?”

Amy couldn’t remember what name she had made up but Davina saved her by bringing the paddle down hard across Anna’s bottom yet again.

“No cheek now,” Davina chirruped.

It didn’t take long to find reasons to polish Anna’s behind a little more and she was soon back in the corner while Tammy again took up the position.

Half an hour later three moist-eyed pledges emerged from the room taking slow careful steps into the hall. The corridor was already lined down both sides by nervous girls all dressed in nothing but T-shirts. Most stood down the right hand side facing out as they waited their turn.

On the other side of the corridor facing the wall displaying a row of angry red bare bottoms was another line of miserable pledges who had already been tested. It was this line that Tammy, Anna and Charlie joined. Adding their own polished red bottoms to the penitent display.

“Next three,” Helen Hart called out.

*
All across the campus sorority pledges were nursing their sore bottoms face down on their beds and not a fridge in halls had any ice left. On the other hand there were plenty of unused chairs. For those who lived in the likes of Carlton House with uncompromising housemothers like Mrs Main, early to bed had been the only thinkable option.

But on the darkening campus in the first days of autumn not all had yet retired. The more senior girls had gathered to discuss their day and play a few hands of cards.

Five-handed bridge was an old tradition at the sorority. It was both at once more dangerous and more fun than the more usual four-handed bridge. It was a game with a couple of hazards.

Initially one player always sat out of the bidding round while her fellows played a hand. After one round one of the losing players left the table and the remaining players changed partners so that only one losing player remained at the table.
This was where it got both interesting and dangerous. Once a player had participated in two losing rounds then her bottom was in jeopardy, but everybody had to play at least two rounds before any forfeits were paid.
The player who had lost most then received three swats on the bare from the player who had lost least. Furthermore she was not allowed to get dressed until the game was over.

To make matters worse for the second round of forfeits the penalty was six rising by three each time for a potentially unlimited number of swats. The game kept actives on their toes; usually literally and after an ambitious game, sisters were sometimes left unable to sit down for a week.

“There were a lot of smart-Alecs among this new intake,” Davina Davis said imperiously as she studied the cards.

“My paddle is still warm,” Catherine Marks sighed.

She held a good hand and Davina was an effective partner. Useful if she wanted to keep a clean sheet for the game. Her eyes flicked to the paddle on the chair; a trusty heirloom made from thin springy maple infused with decades of delicate oils from polishing sorority girl’s bare bottoms. It was a true symbol of their sisterhood.

“Do I have to stand here like this?” Amy Sothern said wearily.

The girl was dressed only in her sweat top and bent over with her hands on her naked thighs. Her neat round bottom domed pertly from under the hem of the Greek-lettered marl sportswear, already stained red from a recent encounter with Catherine’s paddle.

“If I we win this round then Helen is up for swats and you can sit down,” Catherine said drily. “If not, I am afraid you have another round coming.”

The phrase ‘sit-down’ was not an inviting one just then, Amy thought ruefully, but she would bet her bottom that Catherine and Davina would win this rubber. From the apprehensive look on Helen’s face, Amy guessed that Helen surmised that too. Six was going to hurt.

“How many are you on now?” Melanie Crow asked pointedly.

She was only one defeat behind Helen and was facing Catherine next.

“Six isn’t it?” Davina smirked.

“I mean Amy?” Melanie pursed her lips at the sorry excuse for a trick she was holding.

“Oh Amy is on nine swats next,” Catherine said gleefully.

“Oh lord,” Amy whispered, her back beginning to hurt from the awkward posture.

“You could always bail and go to the corner,” Davina said casually, “But I warn you I am hoping to play for a good while yet and you may be there quite some time.”

“Can’t bail until you are on 12s,” Helen sighed with genuine regret.

Why did she ever think she would get the better of Catherine or Davina? Still holding position Amy breathed gently through her open mouth and contemplated getting to 12. She had already had a total of nine swats. Another nine and then 12 would total 30 swats and Catherine, if Davina didn’t overtake her, would not stint. Ouchie, she thought ruefully.

Worst still, pride would not let her bail out at a mere 12. Crying off before at least 18 would get her a rep as cry-baby. That’s 63 bottom blistering whacks she had to take before she could even hope of retiring from the game. Her only hope was that Helen and or Melanie continued to lose.

It seemed like an age that Amy stood bent over, but in the end the Catherine-Davina partnership prevailed.

“Alright Helen,” Catherine said gleefully. “Let’s see those cute buns front and centre.”

“You don’t have to enjoy it quite so much,” Helen wailed as she stood up.

Having already had three swats, Helen was naked from the waist down and as she got to her feet her striking but neatly trimmed red-triangle of hair peeped at the other players over the table.

“Assume the position,” everyone but Amy said in enthusiastic unison.

Helen sighed and walked around the table to bend over with her bare bottom facing the small audience. As she did so Amy gingerly sat down in her place, relieved not to be up for another nine swats.

Catherine took up her paddle as she swallowed a small smile and then moved behind her friend’s proffered behind.

“Standby for six stingers,” she chuckled.

The first caught Helen unawares and she shrieked and shot bolt upright.

“Do that again and I’ll give you extras,” Catherine said sharply in full pledge mistress mode. “Do it twice and I will have a word with your big sis about etiquette.”

Helen gulped and steeled herself for the next five swats. She knew what that would mean. At Abraham Heights a sorority sister was always under the authority of her Big Sister.

The next swat was like a brand of fire and Helen was certain that it could have been heard over in the next county. Nevertheless she held position with barely a grunt. Not an easy task when the oval patch of flames on her bottom went on burning.

Helen didn’t have time to contemplate this as in less than half a minute Catherine blasted the maple blade down again as hard as anyone ever had. This game was played hard.

“Umh,” Helen gasped through tightly clenched teeth.

“Nice colour,” someone said.

Catherine didn’t wait but added another almost immediately. She would genuinely hate to go to Rachel Wentworth, Helen’s Biggie, but she would. But her true aim here was to get to give a penalty. If Helen bailed soon enough then the swats would come around again faster for the others and maybe, just maybe, Catherine could get the beautiful butter-wouldn’t-melt Davina Davis under her paddle.

The fifth swat caused Helen to take half a step forward and grunt. As it was she was already panting like a buzz-saw. And six was her own little purgatory.

“Now hold that position for me,” Catherine said evilly, “I just love the way you push it up and out. It’s soooo cute.”

*
Dr Donna Warren had left the faculty meeting 15 minutes early, braving some puzzled stares as she did so. There was no way she was going to run afoul of Mrs Main again, not after last time. At 28 the smart raven-haired English lecturer had found herself in the bizarre and not to say embarrassing position of being assigned to freshman halls. What none of her colleagues knew or at least Donna prayed they didn’t know, was that Mrs Main the housemother cut her absolutely no slack as a faculty member and treated her the same as the students in her care. That is to say that one breach of the rules, one minute home passed curfew and Donna would find herself bare-bottomed across the housemother’s knee for a prolonged and very sound spanking.

Of course she had tried to find alternative accommodation, but for one reason or another none had appealed to her. Instead she had reasoned that if she obeyed the rules and got home on time then she could enjoy the rather curious goings-on at Carlton House without suffering. It was a mantra she oft repeated to herself and sometimes she almost believed it.

“You won’t get out that door Miss,” a voice said from behind and breaking into her thoughts.

Donna rattled the doors and found them locked before turning back to the short scruffy janitor who spoke.

“Oh, how do I get out?” she asked, some urgency creeping into her voice as she glanced at her watch. It was already 9.49pm.

“All the doors are alarmed after eight,” the man said with a yawn. “You have to go out the front.”

Donna gave the doors one final accusatory glance and then hurried back the way she had come.

It took another four minutes to reach the way out and by then she was late. It was a 10 minute brisk walk to Carlton House and even then she usually had to break into burst of light jogging. She now had seven minutes and she was on the wrong side of the building.

“Oh Donna,” someone called out.

Donna glanced back and saw one of her colleagues. The meeting she had ducked out of was over it would seem.

“I really have to go,” she said anxiously as she backed away.

“But…” the man began, but Donna Warren was already running.

*

The trees were dark silhouettes against the sky, with just a hint of yellow towards the west. Why does this keep happening to me? Donna was frantic. She was running at full tilt now.

Carlton House was up ahead, but annoyingly there was a fence from this approach and she wasted several moments doubling back to the side road some 100 yards down from where she had wanted to cross. Worse still the only door still open, the main door, was on the far side of the building: 9.58pm, said her watch.

“Shit,” she said as she put on another spurt.

This is so stupid, why can’t I…? Her mind raced as she turned the corner and made a break for the door. Her watch still said a minute to the hour and it was some relief that she crashed into the door. It wouldn’t budge.

“Come on, it’s still 9.59,” she wailed in rising panic.

Donna rechecked her watch and saw the hand touch the top of the hour. It doesn’t count she told herself, I was here on time. She hammered on the door. Finally someone came and the door opened.

“I was on time,” Donna said insistently before she even saw who was there.

“Keep your voice down,” the girl inside hissed.

Then even as Donna stepped into the hall her rescuer was gone.

The hapless Dr Warren looked up at the hall clock and saw that it was two minutes faster than her watch, which now read 10.05 in any case. Luckily there was no sign of Mrs Main the housemother, so Donna allowed herself a sigh. If I can just get to my room, she thought.

As precaution she took the first floor passage to the backstairs and made her way to her floor from the long way round, perhaps if she stripped to her underwear in a bathroom on her floor she might just… this was bat crazy shit, she realised angrily. I am 28 and a member of staff.

As she turned onto her corridor the door to her room was tantalisingly near. She paused at the bathroom and gazed longingly at the haven of her study. It was stupid to linger so she bailed on the ‘I was just going to the can’ stratagem and broke into a trot for home.

Of course the door was locked and her keys were still in her purse; another delay, she thought as she fumbled for them. Just then a door opened behind her and Donna froze.

It was a bleary-eyed freshman stumbling off to the bathroom and Donna relaxed. She had her own shower so the bathroom ploy was a weak one, especially when she still had her purse and outdoor coat on. No one would believe she had just been visiting the john.

Donna finally got the keys in the lock and they jangled along with her nerves for several protracted moments before the door swung inwards. Donna’s heart leapt as if she had fallen off a curb and she shot a glance up the hall certain that Mrs Main would be standing there.

Was it bravado or something else that made her pause? There was some excitement in the risk. Then at another sound her courage failed and she ducked into her room and firmly closed the door.

“This is so stupid,” she sighed as she flipped on the light.

But she was safe.

Dropping her purse and coat on the bed she contemplated a shower before some TV on her small portable black and white, but a sound from the hall distracted her. Once Mrs Main had knocked on her door having seen Donna creep in; the stop-out lecturer held her breath. But the only sound was the fire doors closing followed by the clunk of the bathroom door, no doubt a student. The final indoor curfew was a few minutes away and even then girls would risk a dash to the toilet sometimes, which was usually tolerated by the housemother. Donna collapsed on the bed and finally relaxed.

Then she saw the note on her desk. Even from across the room Donna could recognise Mrs Main’s handwriting. Her stomach lurched and she felt sick. The writing was large and clear. Visible even from where she sat were the words ‘come and see me at once.’

Donna snatched up the note and reread it. Over the fold Mrs Main had written ‘dropped by directly after curfew with a book left at the front desk for you. It seems you are still out. Mrs Main’

“Ooh, damn and blast,” Donna wailed.

*

All the way to Mrs Main’s room Donna thought about claiming she was in the bathroom, but somehow she knew the housemother would see through the lie in a trice. The woman could read the girls in her charge like open books. Girls, Donna thought bitterly, that’s all I am to her, just another naughty girl.

Dr Donna Warren, a member of the faculty, hated knocking and waiting for the words of doom to invite her inside. It was utterly ridiculous. She should just refuse. She should just tell Mrs Main where to get off… she remembered their earlier encounters and just how far that had got her.

As it was the door to the housemother’s room was ajar and Donna was able to push it gently open and tentatively call out, “Mrs Main?”

“Ah, another young lady who just will not learn,” Mrs Main said looking up from her desk, “Now the gang’s all here.”

Donna gulped. She could see two other girls standing to face the bare wall behind Mrs Main. It wasn’t the only thing that was bare. Both girls had removed their clothing from the waist and folded it neatly on a chair by the door.

Both freshmen had their hands on their heads, one a tall leggy blonde and the other a short Latino with an epic bottom on display. Both showed signs of a recent spanking, no doubt the sororities had been busy that day. Damn that meeting, Donna thought, I missed out on the fun.

She licked her lips and took in the bright pinkish red of the blonde’s bottom which had mottled purple tracery within the spanked zone especially on the right curve.

The Latino girl’s behind was a heavy russet and was still a little swollen around the tail end. Someone had really gone to town, but then with a bottom like that to work on who could blame them?

Donna shook herself. “Mrs Main eh… you’re busy I see. I’ll come back later. Tomorrow maybe?”

“You are not going to tell me you were in the toilet when I called are you?” Mrs Main asked pointedly.

“As a matter of fact…” Donna swallowed and saw the housemother’s eyebrow go up. “Eh… no Mrs Main, I was delayed at an important…”

“I so don’t care Dr Warren,” Mrs Main interrupted her. “You know the drill.”

The Latino girl made a half turn to look at Donna, no doubt surprised that a member of faculty was in the same boat. Dr Warren blushed. So far Mrs Main had been fairly discreet about the unusual set-up. God I hope they’re not students of mine; Donna was horrified at the thought.

“Dr Warren, you are not going to be difficult I hope,” the housemother said sharply.

“I really don’t think…” Donna began.

“Do you really want to spend Saturday doing corner time in lower stairwell that faces the front door?” Mrs Main words held stony conviction.

“But…” Donna’s eyes were wide and she looked pointedly at the two sorority girls facing the wall.

“You are a member of this house. You will obey the rules. That means you will now remove your skirt and panties and go stand next to Kelly and Maria.” The housemother enunciated every word.

Donna’s face flared red and she felt her ears melt. But after another short hesitation she began to fumble with her zipper and moved to obey.

*

Maria, the small Latino girl, took her spanking far more stoically than the blonde, Kelly. The taller girl had squealed from the first and before the spanking was half over had given out loud angry shouts at each impact of Mrs Main’s short paddle.

As the last of Maria’s spanking was concluded, some 15 minutes since it began, Kelly was still dancing on the spot as she sobbed her heart out in her place next to the as yet unspanked Donna.

Despite her predicament, the faculty member found herself regretting that she could not have watched both spankings, but the housemother had been quite explicit about what would happen if any of the girls took their nose from the wall.

Where Kelly’s spanking had been a noisy leg-kicking affair, Maria had just let out grunts as her breathing had become more and more laboured. It wasn’t until the end that she finally chuckled to a sob and had begun to cry.

“Quite a spanking on an already sore bottom,” Mrs Main said sympathetically, “You took it well.”

Maria got unsteadily to her feet and shook the sting from her heroic tail.

“Thank you Ma’am,” Maria said in a strained voice through her tears as she clawed at her bottom. “No disrespect Ma’am, but I get far worse at home, even now.”

Maria had no trace of her ancestors’ accent and was pure up State. Although that was somewhat challenged by her generous tears.

“I will bear that in mind next time,” Mrs Main chuckled.

Maria winced; sometimes she had a big mouth. And the part about next time was too close to certain for comfort.

“Now you two can go,” Mrs Main said cheerfully, “But mind me when I tell you I don’t like tattletales.”

Kelly was still crying for America, but nevertheless opened her mouth to ask what the housemother meant when Maria nudged her with an elbow and nodded at Dr Warren.

“No way,” Kelly said emphatically, her eyes bugging out of her head. The flow of her tears suddenly ceased.

Mrs Main frowned, not sure if that was a declaration of disobedience, but Kelly hastily drew her pinched fingers across her lips like a zip.

After they had gone Mrs Main turned her attention to Donna.

“What is it about obeying curfew you don’t get?” she said.

Donna turned around and found some courage.

“Mrs Main, please I have to be at meetings in the evening. It’s my job. I can’t always be here at ten. Now if…” she began.

The housemother sighed.

“Dr Warren, I happen to know you have been offered three separate alternatives to living here. I expect there have been other offers on top of that I don’t know about. Yet here you still are. I have to confess that the first time you and I had words I was genuinely in error, but it soon became clear to me that it was for the best.” Mrs Main formed a small wistful smile with her lips that just touched her eyes. Then it was gone. “While you live here you will obey the rules or accept the consequences.”

“But…” Donna blushed. The woman was right. Why hadn’t she just moved out? What was she looking for?

“Tell me, were you ever in a sorority?” Mrs Main appeared to change the subject.

“No I… not my thing really… I…” Donna was thrown.

“Ah ha,” the housekeeper said thoughtfully.

Then she turned and took up the small hand paddle she had used on Kelly and Maria. It was a harsher measure reserved for the diehards who persisted in testing her throughout the year. She knew now that Donna would be back again and again just as surely as the other two and three or four others in the house. It was always the way. Some girls were built that way and could not help themselves.

Donna, who had felt strange discussing sororities while naked from the waist down, shifted uncomfortably. But Mrs Main was ready for her. She flipped the doctorate-laden teacher firmly across her lap as expertly as she had any other resident of Carlton house and patted her exposed bottom with the small hole-drilled paddle.

“I will make you a deal Dr Warren,” she said, “I will strive to be discreet on your behalf if you make me a promise.”

The paddle came down hard and Donna’s eyes flew open in shock. The bite across her bottom was extreme and a whole new level of spanking.

“Do you hear me Dr Warren?” Mrs Main said spanking her charge again.

Donna could only growl angrily. Getting no answer the housemother brought the paddle down in four or five sharp blasts beginning at the crowns of Donna’s bottom and working on down to where the lecturer hoped to sit one day.

“Is that ‘no deal’ then Dr Warren?” the housemother scolded. “Do you think I was joking about putting you in the corner at the main doors?”

“What deal?” Donna wailed. There were already tears pooling at her eyes and her breathing was hard and ragged.

Mrs Main ran her idea through her head one last time. It suited them both not to undermine a member of the college’s authority.

“I will be discreet on your behalf, but if you have to go across my knee one more time then I will expect to see you once a week for a straightener regardless of your conduct,” she explained.

Donna would have said anything just then, but her mother didn’t raise any fools. This was insane.

“You mean…” she gaped, her throbbing bottom briefly forgotten.

“If you cross me one more time I will spank you once a week for the rest of your stay with us,” Mrs Main pressed her words home with a spank.

The housemother reasoned that whatever it was Donna was seeking, might be fulfilled by a regular spanking regime. Then these intermittent and hard to contain rule breaches might be kept to a minimum. After all, Donna was well able to keep out of trouble, but something in her kept bringing her back.

“This is crazy,” Donna gasped through an orgy of panting brought on by the swat.

But she reasoned, all she had to do was get organised and keep to the rules.

“Please just give me an extra half hour past curfew,” she pleaded.

Mrs Main had already contemplated and discarded that option. For one thing it set a dangerous precedent and risked disturbing the house at bed time. But what was clear to Main, if not Donna, was that the good Dr Warren would always come in just after curfew whatever time it was set at. The woman just needed it that way for some perhaps subconscious reason of her own.

“No,” the housemother said sharply and spanked down hard.

The volley that followed was an expression of anger at Donna’s stubbornness.

“Waaa,” Donna wailed, now resembling Kelly in her response to a spanking.

“Listen to me Dr Warren. Do you know what I do with persistent offenders? And you are a persistent offender. I spank them morning noon and night. I have many little public corners to put them in to take them down a peg,” Mrs Main rasped as she continued to spank, “Do you hear me?”

Donna was sure that she could keep to the rules. What did she have to lose?

“Alright,” she howled.

“Good,” Mrs Main said triumphantly. “Now where were we?”

The housemother brought the paddle down again with a will polishing Donna’s bottom to an astonished angry red bordered by rubbery welts. The holes she knew chaffed abysmally and had done much to contribute to the white dusting of distressed flesh that accompanied such a prolong spanking. But the woman’s bottom could take more. Much more and it was going to. Just to make sure Donna was incentivised not to comeback, tonight the paddle would do double duty before a healthy midnight stint in the corner.

Maybe she would add a reprise just to drive it home. After all the two sorority girls had been spanked on paddle spore; it was only fair.

By now Donna had completely surrendered. There was neither fight nor anger left in her and she hugged into her tormentor for some comfort even as the spanking continued. Deep down she sensed that Mrs Main was only doing this for own good.

More Abraham Heights stories here.

The 28-year-old English lecturer was lost in her thoughts following her run in with Mrs Main and she had a lot to think about. Her rapidly spinning head was still reeling with the agreement she had made. She was still blushing for God’s sake, and at both ends, she thought ruefully.

One more run-in and she would either face public humiliation or very private and very regular intimate submission. She wanted to rail against the world and scream at its injustice, but she didn’t feel any sense of injustice. Was that what bothered her most? Oh for sure she could take the college to a tribunal or even sue its ass off at a state or even federal level, but that seemed churlish of her somehow. She had come to Abraham Heights for the adventure and she had found it.

Besides, she thought, she somehow doubted that she was the first outsider to run afoul of the town’s quaint little punitive customs. It was a cert that it could take care of itself and maybe at greater expense to her interests.

No, she had three choices as she saw it and that was why she had taken an evening walk around town to clear her head.

Firstly, she could try and stay out of trouble. But in her heart she knew that she would fail. That was a strategy she had employed for weeks now and something, probably her little self-saboteurs, was thwarting that approach.

Secondly she could accept the situation, along with a weekly maintenance spanking and whatever other indignities Mrs Main had in mind for her. Or thirdly, she could move out.

Donna sighed. The last was obvious, but then she thought of the rows of bare-bottomed college girls and the proximity to all that spanking adventure. She couldn’t tell herself that it wasn’t what she signed on for, it was. Even an experience or two at the hands of some hunk was not out of court. But such regular childish humiliations so close to home…? Her hands stole to her ‘home’ and rubbed it tenderly. If only… she sighed, and then looked up.

She was in a well-to-do area of town and Donna had taken in the quaint wooded street on a whim. Now she found herself outside a house set back from the others. It was a large home with a yard big enough to hold a ball game. It was certainly the largest in the street, not that its neighbours were exactly small. But there was something about this house that made her stop.

*

The two young women sitting next to each other on the couch were blushing hard and exchanged glances. No doubt they both felt a nauseous tingle assaulting their stomachs, that and an age-old disconnect that said that it wasn’t happening.

The feeling was nothing new to Mindy Heaver. At 19 and having started college a year late due to some educational failures, she knew all about incentives, especially where Uncle Paul was concerned. Any protests that she was way too old were futile. Not when her mother too could find herself in the corner or over Uncle Paul’s knee when the need arose.

However, for local Prep-School teacher 29-year-old Prudence Trencher, this was all still new to her. Back in the summer the Heaver’s live-in tenant had got a foretaste of house discipline. Her introduction coming after the End of Year Barbecue; an event that she suspected Mindy too would never forget.

Paul had taken her to task once or twice since, she thought sheepishly, but those times had been different somehow and after the first time on the day of the party, they had been more private affairs. Now she was to feel the full wrath and custom of the Heaver household.

“Look I’m sorry I didn’t mean to… but…” Prudence wailed.

Paul just folded his arms and gave her that look. He had heard it all before.

“Didn’t mean to, of course not, if I even thought that…” Bridget cut in.

Paul gave his 39-year-old sister a look of her own and she shut up.

“You are both old enough to know better, especially you Prudence,” Paul said quietly.

Mindy nodded and took to glowering at her knees. She hated the lecture; she wished Uncle Paul would just get on with it.

“Well that’s just it, I am old enough. I am a teacher for… for f…” Prudence began.

Paul cocked an eyebrow in warning.

“Well, you know, I am too old for…” she glanced at the corner and then blushing, appealed to Bridget with her eyes.

The truth was she had begun to hope that there was more than just a paternal relationship between her and Paul. Why else would she just let him spank her?

“Too old,” Bridget gaped, “I am 10 years your senior and a mother…?” she looked at Mindy and then met Paul’s glare and quickly fell silent again.

Prudence knew that Bridget was spanked by Paul too when she needed it. Needed it, she thought aghast, she was going native. Anyway that was their business, although she secretly hoped to have seen this amusing event before now.

A week or so after she had been spanked by Paul and sent to the corner by a highly amused Bridget, she had confronted the woman. She had to know if it was true or had she just been made a fool of.

“Paul said…” she had begun, “I mean the other night when…” The words had stuck in her throat and she blushed.

“Go on,” Bridget said in a neutral voice as she put the wiping cloth she held down on the table and gave her lodger all of her attention.

“He said that you too were…” Suddenly Prudence felt an idiot.

Bridget smiled and lightened her posture.

“Come on, sit down,” she said pulling out a kitchen chair.

Prudence made a pouty face and then sank into the proffered seat and hugged herself defensively.

“This house is not so very different to any other in Abraham Heights,” Bridget sighed, “I mean you must have realised now that it is the land the time forgot. The liberated 1980s, heck, the swinging sixties passed us by. I for one am rather glad about that, even if I do get my tail singed from time to time.”

“You mean Paul does spank you, your own brother,” Prudence gasped, forgetting herself.

“He has been taking care of me through one reckless youth and two failed marriages. He is the head of house here and so long as you promise not to tell him I said so, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Bridget continued. “So yes he spanks me and soundly when I need it. Mindy knows. Heck, sometimes Mindy sees. Just like you I have been nose to the wall, hip to hip with her in the corner.”

Prudence gaped like a fish as she pictured the scene.

“Once or twice over the years I have stood there in front of company, not to mention an unspanked Mindy,” Bridget said with a hint of bitter resolve. “It did me good, no doubt, but more to the point it wasn’t my call.”

“You mean… with your bottom bare like…?” Prudence was wide-eyed.

“Not quite as public as the barbecue, that was a special case, but you know…” Bridget shrugged, “So welcome to Abraham Heights.”

Now in the present she had to contend with a full family sanction.

Paul had finished his lecture. Like Mindy the scolding words had washed over her like a drone and she had just been willing him to stop and get to the point.

“Now you both know the drill, I want you pants down and facing that wall until I am ready,” Paul barked.

Mindy leapt to her feet with a hint of attitude and began working her button and zipper. By the time Prudence was standing up the 19-year-old had shucked her pants and panties down and was shuffling over to the wall with a pout.

“What if…?” Prudence thought about the regular and unexpected parade of friends and neighbours that tended to pitch up of an evening; many of them parents at her school and occasionally with a student, one of hers, in tow.

Paul gave her a hard look until with bad grace she shot and angry glance at Mindy and then followed suit.

“Any more of that attitude and I’ll add something,” Paul growled, “Both of you.”

A moment later both women were side-by-side with denims and panties at their knees, and with two bare bottoms hanging in the autumn breeze.

Bridget eyed the two tight white split behinds with a feeling of calm comfort and thought about how many bare bottoms had graced the spot since Great-Grand Pa Heaver had built the house back in the day. The fact that one of them had often been her own did nothing to dim her enthusiasm for such domestic disciplinary traditions. It was a pity that neither of her husbands had ever been worth a damn in that department, she thought regretfully as she turned back to the kitchen.

“How… how long…?” Prudence sounded like a whiney teenager and she knew it.

“Oh you’ll be there a while before I spank you and longer afterwards,” Paul grunted as he crossed the room to the TV.

*

Donna didn’t know what drew her to this particular house. It was crazy, she could even get arrested, she thought as she made her way around the side of the building. As soon as she reached the shadow in the first hint of twilight she knew that what she was doing was insane.

The house had a kind of porch running almost all the way around. At the side she could see a high-ish window to what she presumed was a basement that was just below the floor of the surround porch. It was too high for a girl of five feet nothing to see into, even standing on a box so she moved on. As she went further back to the yard the ground rose up so that the rear decking was almost level with the ground.

The only place where the porch was not continuous was at a set of cellar doors at the far corner, beyond which were steps that led to the other end of the deck and then, she guessed up to an upper balcony arrangement.

The whole set-up reminded her of some kind of plantation house, although admittedly on a smaller scale. It was an image that put her in mind of ‘whupping’ for some reason and she knew she should go.

‘I was just looking for a friend before realising I had the wrong house,’ she rehearsed in her head.

Then she heard it: the unmistakable sound of someone being scolded by a firm baritone voice. The occasional interjection from a rather shrill scoldee confirmed that the person in trouble was female.

What is it with this town? She wondered. But she felt the same thrilling pang she had felt when she had first encountered the secret of Abraham Heights. So instead of leaving, she nervously ascended the back steps to the porch and crept up to a window for a peek.

What met her gaze were not one, but two hapless women. Both were facing the wall with their panties at their ankles and both had eminently spankable behinds. One, she decided was college age and from the way she stood upright with her hands on her head, no newbie at corner time. The other, if she wasn’t mistaken was older, perhaps much older; Donna blushed in recognition of the woman’s plight.

Then she saw the man watching TV and gulped. As far as she could tell in profile, he was a traditional squared-jaw hunk, with square sports-jock shoulders and a touch of masterful grey at his temples. Now this was going to be too good to miss, she decided, throwing all caution to the wind.

*

Donna had been lurking for quite some time before the man switched off the TV and told the women to turn around. By then Donna had worked out that there was another woman there, a 30-something panther-like creature who despite being nearer 40 than 30, Donna guessed, had the feisty look of a single woman rather than the man’s husband. Lucky man, she thought regretfully.

The other thing Donna had worked out was that the older of the two girls was indeed more mature and was at least her own age.

Now it was about 45 minutes after she first peeked that things finally looked like getting going.

“Mindy,” the man sighed. Then from the table he picked up a small stout paddle with tight drilled holes, before taking a chair from the wall.

Mindy dropped her aching arms and took half a step back before nervously rubbing her thighs. Then in a hobbled shuffle, she crossed the room with her hands cupped anxiously over her sex in front.

“Uncle Paul I…” Mindy ventured meekly.

Paul ignored her and tipped her easily across his knee so that her bottom was a tight split dome in his lap.

Prudence, who had half turned to watch, shot a lip-chewing glance at the action, tugging at her shirt in front lest anyone see her nakedness.

The paddle rose and fell with a purpose and in a moment Mindy’s grunts had become laboured breaths and she made slow swimmer-like kicks with her legs as she squirmed.

It was the heavy hard thwack of the impacts that made Donna start and she wondered if her own spankings from Mrs Main were so loud. She realised she didn’t know, being too preoccupied at such times with how they felt than what they sounded like.

If Donna thought the spanking would soon be over she was to be reassured. True within a few minutes Mindy’s bottom went through hard pink to an angry red, but that was just for openers. The paddle soon left contrasting dark red and whitish blotches that rose in little blisters as the spanking progressed.

By then of course Mindy had given up all stoicism and her angry grunts had given over to distressed wails and finally full bloodied howling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sooo sorry,” she bawled, much good it did her.

Donna lost all track of time as the spanking continued, but if someone had later told her it lasted for an hour, she would not have been surprised. Although in truth, 20 minutes was near the mark, if that.

“Your behaviour was unacceptable,” Paul said sharply as his spanking arm slowed, “You get that don’t you?”

The woeful tear-stained and snot-smeared face of Mindy nodded. The sobbing girl looked submissively up over her shoulder and emphasised her surrender with, “Yes Sir.”

Paul shot a glance at her raw welted bottom and guessed that she was.

“Alright, back to face the wall with you,” he sighed.

Mindy clambered to her feet and this time heedless of flashing her pubic triangle, staggered to the wall and meekly took up the required pose.

“Now Paul…” the older woman said warily as now that it had come to it she backed away. “I know I kind of deserve it but…”

“Kind of deserve it,” Paul barked, his exasperation clear, “You brat. I ought to have you cut a switch after this.”

Prudence gaped and backed off a little more, still tugging at her T-shirt in front to cover herself. This action only emphasised her seemingly big bottom behind and made her look all the more vulnerable.

In the event he took her over his knee as easily as he had Mindy, although with more rather fuss. This time he was intent to really make an impact and really let fly with the paddle, driving it down hard.

Prudence made no attempt to be silent and yelled heartedly from the get go so that the watching Donna had to stifle a laugh.

Even the woman, who Donna learned was called Bridget, returned to watch the action and made no attempt to disguise her amusement.

“You may only be a lodger here, but you are just one of the family to us,” she chuckled.

Donna gaped at this revelation and her mind raced. Oh my God, she thought, but something about it excited her. The spanking too excited her and she squeezed her thighs together as she watched. How this Paul kept up the pace, Donna could only guess, he was a hero in her eyes anyway and she didn’t even care what the women had done. But something about the woman’s bawling and the way her bottom went blister-red to angry purple in so short a time made the college prof think that she was a relative novice.

Donna’s hand strayed to her own behind and she felt the fading ministrations of Mrs Main’s efforts. Mrs Main, she cried inwardly, what time is it? Omigod, she thought and fell back from the window. It had gone 9.30, her watch revealed.

*

It took half an hour for Prudence to bring her crying under control. Every moment of that time was spent facing the wall while her bottom burned and throbbed. An agony increased because she had been strictly forbidden from rubbing it.

“One unauthorised rub and I’ll spank you again,” Paul had cautioned.

“He will,” a more recovered and rueful Mindy muttered from beside her.

Prudence had nodded and sobbed out a “Yes Sir.”

Now an hour later prudence was convinced she wasn’t going to sit down ever again, but at least she was more bored now than suffering. He can’t keep us here much longer, she thought miserably; I’ll be good now, very, very good.

Next to her Mindy just crinkled up her nose and made bored blowing noises. She knew better than to hope for a release any time soon. The doorbell shook them all.

“Who’s that now, it’s after 10?” Bridget said irritably. Then a moment later they heard her say, “Come in Meredith.”

Prudence’s eyes came out on stalks at the implication and her mouth gaped. While next to her Mindy muttered, “Oh great.”

“We have just been dealing with a small domestic problem,” Bridget said as she ushered Meredith Crow into the family room.

“So I see,” Meredith said pleasantly, “A familiar scene at our house too. Oh Miss Trencher,” she added in faint surprise, “So nice to… eh… see you again. Oh tell me how are the twins…? eh… no I see you’re busy perhaps another time.”

“Yes Mrs Crow, I am rather,” Prudence said in brittle voice, conscious that her face now matched her behind.

“I hope you are not giving our guest some attitude,” Bridget said in annoyance.

“No Ma’am,” Prudence said hastily.

*

Donna stood with her forehead pressed to the front door of Carlton Hall. The freshman dorm block was firmly closed against her and she just knew that sneaking in wold prove as futile as it ever had. Why do I keep on doing this? It as an inward wail of despair and part of her knew her life was about to change one way or another.

She wasn’t even surprised when she heard the bolts drawn back from inside to allow the door to be opened.

“Good evening Dr Warren,” Mrs Main said wearily, “I rather supposed it would come to this.”

“Mrs Main,” Donna began, “I really don’t think…”

“Dr Warren,” Mrs Main sighed, “Go to bed, just go to bed. We will have a nice long, long talk on Saturday afternoon.”

Donna felt her jaw click as she swallowed. There was no way, she thought, and looked up to speak. But Mrs Main had gone.

Charlie Lain’s mess of dark blonde curls tumbled pell-mell over her face as she stood bent at the waist in the middle of Davina’s floor. Her only clothing was a short white T-shirt emblazoned with a large yellow smiley face and a tiny pair of white ankle socks.

She was a small girl with a pert dome of a bottom that peeked cheekily from beneath the hem of her shirt as she steadied herself with her hands on her knees.

The bottom, once bleached pale, was now marred by pink blotches and here and there yellowish brown bruises. Since pledging, Charlie had as yet to sit easily and her bottom had scarce been given recovery time from one paddling to another.

“You know why you are here don’t you Charlie?” Davina said imperiously as her fidgeting fingers dusted the thin blade of the long paddle in her hands.

The bare bottom before her was quite a target and she was eager to begin.

“Yes Ma’am,” Charlie squeaked.

“And why is that?” Davina asked as she suddenly stooped down next to the little pledge, her hard pleasant voice a sharp whisper at Charlie’s ear.

“To get paddled,” Charlie said sullenly.

Davina straightened and brought the paddle down with an electric crack across the pledge’s bare bottom and extracted a grunt.

Charlie blinked hard as she rode out the pain and earnestly hoped there wouldn’t be too many of those. Obviously that had been the wrong answer and she racked her 18-year-old brain for another one.

The paddle struck again and Charlie yelped angrily.

“I didn’t say anything,” she wailed.

“And yet you should have said ‘ma’am,’ as in ‘I am here to get paddled ma’am,’” Davina said wearily, “Sometimes I don’t think you girls are really trying. Besides that was the wrong answer. Why are you here to get paddled?”

Charlie gritted her teeth. Was it because she had muttered a bad word at breakfast or…?

“Tardiness,” Davina sighed. This time the paddle landed with three short crisp splats that almost sent Charlie out of position.

Charlie clamped her jaw shut hard and slowly let air hiss through her nose.

“Oh that, yes Ma’am, sorry,” she finally managed.

By now her bottom was a hard bright red and fizzed like a launch-pad at Cape Canaveral. On top of that the first tear came unbidden to her right eye and rolled down her cheek.

“Okay, give me a number,” Davina said sharply, “If it is lower than mine we will add the difference to my number.”

Charlie closed her eyes in despair. She hated this game, it was rigged. She was willing to bet that Davina didn’t even have a number in mind. She parted her legs a little to get a better purchase and pushed her bottom out a some more behind. For a second she contemplated saying a ridiculously high number out of pure bravado, but knowing Davina she would probably have to take every one of them.

So instead she squeaked, “Six.”

“Oh dear,” Davina sighed mockingly, “I was thinking of a nine.”

Charlie hastily ran the numbers in her head. Twelve, she couldn’t take 12. But Davina landed the first biting swat that told a very different tale.

*

Melanie Crow surreptitiously moved her hand from her side and turned the face of her watch so that she could just see it, but the movement caused her nose to be taken from the wall and behind her the tutor barked; “Head.”

Melanie jerked back into position and blood flooded her face. For a second she cursed herself with menace for her slip. Shit, shit, shit, she quailed inwardly, this might be bad. But after a long pause Professor Archer said no more.

Roland Archer gave his cornered student a long hard stare to assure himself that she had obeyed and then turned back to her essay. He was inclined to let her faux pas slip this time. After all it had been her first in over 40 minutes, which was how long since he had left her to wait.

Also the essay was a fair effort. For sure it could have been better executed, but the girl was beginning to show promise. Her grades had really been picking up lately and by the end of the semester her average would be almost acceptable. Better still, the girl had stopped being habitual late to their sessions and that month he had only had to thrash once for a tardy.

That particular situation had been improved after he had instituted a sanction of six of the best for any lateness and further six for lateness of more than 10 minutes on top of the one stroke per minute. A regular 24 strokes of the cane for being 12 minutes late every week had soon focussed her mind. Wrestling with an essay deconstruction with two dozen hot welty lines of pain across your bare bottom did that for a girl; especially when she still has extras for shoddy work to come.

Roland looked up and studied Melanie’s as yet unpunished bare bottom for any signs of her sister’s guidance. He saw none and concluded that the girl must be learning. He knew for a fact that Anita, another former student of his, made her little sister toe a very exacting line, a situation which Melanie reluctantly agreed to lest the parents get involved.

He sometimes wondered if Mr and Mrs Crow knew of the arrangement, but given the consequences for both girls should they be deceiving them… well they must know, mustn’t they?

He looked again at Melanie and pondered. Maybe he should ask her. After all it wouldn’t be right to go behind the parent’s back, even if the girl was 18. But he hated the idea of losing another student and after all Anita was 26. Besides Melanie was definitely getting some benefit. No better to assume all was well and run it past the Crows after the event. That way both bases would be covered.

He turned back to the essay, it wasn’t quite… he sighed. He should probably give her a dozen or so with the paddle for sloppiness on top of her 12 cane-stroke straightener. After all he couldn’t have her falling back into bad habits.

*

Dana Guinness swallowed back a nasty taste as she reached for the letter again. Taking a long slow breath she unfolded it carefully and reread the credit statement from the bank.

It was only $986 but the little figure screamed at her in red. She hastily refolded the paper again and put it away.

“Bad news?” her sister Hope asked casually from her place perched upon the kitchen stool.

“Nothing much,” Dana lied.

Hope frowned for a moment and then a small smile broke on her face. Unconsciously a strand of undyed greying hair found its way into her mouth and she obligingly sucked on it as she cradled a large steaming coffee cup with both hands.

“Come on, fess up,” she chuckled, “I always know when little sister is lying.”

At a year younger Dana still couldn’t help feeling awkward in front of her elder sister.

“Oh God,” she sighed, and handed the letter to Hope.

The older woman tried to sound somewhere between horrified and sympathetic but the amused squeal rather fell short.

“What again, John is going to…” she clapped a hand to her mouth, “Whoops. And after last time too.”

Dana blushed. She remembered the spanking she had gotten from her husband on the day Hope, their mother and her twin nieces had dropped by. Judging from the look on her sister’s face it was a memory shared.

“Lucky for you the girls are out,” Hope smirked.

Right on cue there was the sound of John’s car in the drive. Both sisters rolled their eyes the direction of the sound but only Hope looked relaxed.

“Yeah but you are still here,” Dana said nervously, “Time to go,” she added making as if to shove her sister towards the door.

“Oh I don’t think so,” Hope purred as conspiratorially she waved the incriminating bank statement, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

An ashen Dana was still wildly gesticulating at her sister when John entered the kitchen and seeing the scene he looked apprehensive with a frown suddenly etched onto his face. He knew when mischief was brewing.

“Hello Hope… eh is that for me?” he asked his sister-in-law.

“N-no, it’s…” Dana cut in nervously, but John was already extending a hand to take the letter from Hope.

Dana gaped in horror as the creamy-cat-faced Hope gave John the bank statement.

For a long moment after he had read the statement John didn’t speak. Instead he just put the letter down and removed his jacket. Dana fancied she heard him breathe sharply through his nose, but he had turned away to open the fridge at this point, so she couldn’t be certain.

There was something slow and deliberate about the way he poured a glass of orange juice and Dana felt something in the pit of her stomach.

“I-I was meaning to… I mean, I hadn’t guessed that…” Dana willed herself to shut up, but her mouth kept muttering blandishments.

“What did I tell you last time?” John said calmly.

Dana shot a glare at Hope and urgently mouthed that she should go, but her sister just folded her arms and dropped back onto her kitchen stool as she picked up her unfinished coffee.

“Please Hope, will you go?” Dana said in a dull voice. There was resignation there too.

“I am talking here,” John Guinness said sharply.

“I’m sorry,” Dana sighed.

Her husband leaned forward with his strong arms set akimbo on the kitchen top as he survey his nervously retreating wife. An action that caused Hope to smile a little smile as John stood upright and unhooked his belt buckle. As both women looked on he let it rattle through the hoops of his pants with small leather-on-cotton clicks, each one causing Dana to wince.

“Please send Hope out,” Dana asked. The words were moist and that dampness touched her eyes.

By way of reply John  folded the belt in two and gave his wife a significant glare. The gesture was final and well understood by both of them. So with a deep breath Dana unbuttoned her own grey pants and let them fall to her ankles before folding herself woodenly over a vacant kitchen stool.

Her husband didn’t wait, but hooking his thumb in the crack of her bottom where it peeked above her upper panty line, he drew down her high-cut briefs to leave her exposed.

Dana a had a big bottom, but it was still firm for a 41-year-old and unlike the more lived-in Hope, she looked young for her years.

“Cute ass,” Hope said lightly and gave John a wink.

“You were a witness last time, for all the good it did, but I think the embarrassment is the only thing that gets through to her,” John explained unnecessarily.

Hope shrugged even as she smirked and took another slow sip of coffee. One might even think she was taking in a show.

meanwhile out of long habit and good family training Dana stuck her bottom out as far as she could as she dipped her back, making the firm split globes well-rounded. Then with slow shallow breaths, she waited.

The first crack stung her behind and Dana gasped. But it was still Hope’s presence that bothered most, an attitude that prevailed for the next six biting licks. Then she grunted a little and gripped the legs of the stool with knuckles as white as her bottom used to be. From then on the leather really lit a fire and tears spilled freely on her cheeks until her small groans became yells.

Hope lost count of the strokes at around 23 and took another sip from her mug. By then her sister’s bottom held two welty pads and she was colouring up to shade approaching that of a shiny Victoria plum.

“That is your second lot of debt in as many months,” John barked.

“I’m sorry John, I’m sorry, but it was already too late last time,” Dana sobbed, “I’ll do better, really I will.”

“You know what,” John growled, “We are going to finish this at bedtime. Now go stand in the corner.”

Dana swallowed back some tears and stood stiffly, her face glossed with a wet sheen. The corner with her sister there would be hell and she could only hope that her daughters didn’t come home anytime soon. Or, she gulped, anyone else.

“Is there any more coffee?” John asked Hope.

*
Donna Warren felt utterly stupid. She had been stood in the corner of the room in just her PJ tops for over an hour. It wasn’t her ideal way of spending a Saturday morning and not for the first time she wondered by what authority Mrs Main was doing this to her and why she had agreed.

But that battle had already been lost and Donna knew it.

Mrs Main, the housemother of Carlton House Freshman Hall, had had years upon years’ of experience in handling young women who thought they were too old for a spanking. At least half of them were from out of town and might very well have had their first spanking at her hands. Even at 28 Donna was little older than these girls and so far the housemother had been singularly unimpressed that she was a teacher and not a student. Any attempt by Donna to argue or refuse to cooperate would end very badly. She would get a tear-making, bottom-rending spanking at the very least and all on top of whatever else the woman had planned.

The only glimmer of hope was that in return for her cooperation Mrs Main had agreed to be discreet. But it was a scant hope. For Mrs Main had absolutely refused to cut her any slack at all, and unless she toed the line she would be spanked like a freshman each and every time she didn’t.

On the other hand, Donna bit back a dry sob, it was so unfair; the thought almost broke her… on the other hand, now she had fully submitted she was going to get a spanking every Saturday whether she broke the rules or not. The trade-off was that with this deal she wouldn’t screw up and risk exposure to the other kids in the hall.

Other kids… she caught herself on, but she wasn’t a kid, she was on the faculty for God’s sake. The raging in Donna’s mind was cyclical, even as she protested in her mind she obediently stood in the corner her bare bottom displayed.

It was at this point that the door opened and Mrs Main came back from an errand.

“Good girl, you haven’t moved I see,” she said gently. Then after a pause she asked, “You do know that I can tell don’t you?”

It didn’t surprise Donna in the slightest and in a dull sullen voice she replied, “No Ma’am.”

“Now let me outline how these little sessions will go,” Mrs Main said brightly.

“If you keep out of trouble and dutifully report to me every Saturday morning, then you will usually only get a simple spanking,” the housemother told her. “By simple I mean of course a thorough application of my hairbrush to your bare bottom for 20 or 30 minutes until you are quite contrite. Then you will stand in that corner, as you are now for one hour, before and after your spanking.”

That sounded bad enough but Donna did not like the sound of the word ‘usually.’

“B-but… what if…? I mean…” Donna wanted to cry.

“Please wait until I have finished Dr Warren,” Mrs Main scolded, “Once a month we will augment your experience just so you don’t get complacent and slip back into bad habits.”

Donna had trouble getting her breath. She had about a million questions.

“Of course if you do get into trouble on top of our little sessions then it will start getting very much worse for you,” Mrs Main said in a tone of anticipated disappointment.

Donna felt her chest tighten and a small sinking feeling. How could it get worse?

“Dr Warren,” Mrs Main said in a commanding tone, “Please come here.”

Donna felt sick. Couldn’t she just stay in the corner? The corner was nice, Mrs Main could even spank another girl instead and it wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Her legs felt like lead as she obeyed and for once she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

Instead of Mrs Main’s lap, Donna was taken to the bathroom just off the housemother’s main room. It was larger than most, certainly larger than the oversized bathrooms the girls shared. The tub was big enough for a small horse and there was even a gym bench in the corner.

But what caught Donna’s eye were a row of enema bags and other rubber accoutrements.

“I usually just spank,” Mrs Main informed her, “That is with my hand or hairbrush right through to some expertly made paddles. I do have a couple of prison straps and canes, but I prefer to humble a girl rather than break her physically. It is just… useful to have another level now and again.”

Donna didn’t care about the paddles or canes right then, it was the array of bottom-intruders with all their threat of medical terror held her gripped.

“But as I told you, once a month we have to get tougher and that will involve a visit here and a good cleansing on top of the usual, followed by a prolonged battle with a battledore,” Mrs Main said with what sounded like genuine regret.

“And if I am bad…?” Donna blurted.

“Good girl, now you are getting my point?” Mrs Main beamed.

*

Mrs Main’s lap was a relief after the explicit threat. Only it wasn’t a threat was it? It was a promise. Once a month she had said. Donna was still pondering this fact when the flat side of the brush landed firmly across her bare bottom.

“Jeeessss,” she gasped as her legs shot straight and stiff as she rode the pain.

She had forgotten how bad a spanking from the housemother really was.

The punitive arm rose and fell like a piston, but the only fire was in Donna’s bottom and in short order all pretence at being stoical was driven out. Instead Donna bucked and howled while her legs kicked the air futilely. The whole house must be hearing her, was her last coherent thought.

“Now this is a little more than just a maintenance spanking today, I want to really set a standard here. So if you find you can’t sit down until next Saturday…” Mrs Main said this so casually that for once Donna feared it was more than a figure of speech.

Or she should have done but the spanking took her now, red-bottomed and bawling, she was a young woman who was all sorry and all prayer. In her misery she looked at the corner from the vantage of Mrs Main’s lap. “I’ll be a good girl, I’ll be a good girl,” she wailed as she made futile attempts to crawl towards it.

“Now, now,” Mrs Main soothed, but her only caress was delivered with the brush, “We really have only just got started Dr Warren.”

“Please Ma’am, I’ll be a good girl, really I will,” Donna bawled.

“I know girl, I know, that’s what the spanking is for,” Mrs Main told her tenant with another sharp volley of spanks.

It seemed that eternity had only just begun. As if to confirm this the minute hand on the clock crawled towards eleven, a progress measured out slowly by the treacle-like second hand. It would proclaim a quarter past the hour before the spanking was over and only then would Donna would be permitted the corner.

She would be released at 12.30 sharp, just in time for lunch, if she wanted any. But most of Mrs Main’s girl’s viewed a canteen chair with a certain amount of dread after one of their sessions and a good spanking did tend to dull the appetite for a few hours.

The car made a slow turn at the bend and began to climb the hill. It was steep enough and the car laboured for a moment before the engine caught. In the rear-view mirror Abraham Heights looked quite pretty nestled on the side of the opposite slope. All white and red brick houses peeking above the treetops, scattered pell-mell around the town square which she knew was somewhere in the trees. Above the scene the sky was ablaze with fire and many of the houses already had lights on against the dark. It was certainly an unusual place and as Ainsley had told her boss, it was the land the time had forgotten.

“Jeez,” she had laughed down the phone to him, “They practically have bobby soxers and soda fountains. I swore I saw some freshman in beanies and no one has cable.”

Ainsley laughed as she remembered. Well she would soon be out of here anyway so it didn’t matter.

She had been sent to the town to give one of the companies there a spot check of the books. Nothing unusually, but the state liked to make random inspections to guard against tax evasion and every once in a while some little mom and pop concern out in the boondocks got a visit. This time it had been Ainsley Greenburg who had pulled the short straw and who had been dispatched.

At 26 she was hardworking and conscientious with little time for distractions. She wore her blonde hair short and usually donned a smart pants suit in a bid to look professional. A bonus when a girl was only five two in stockings. Some clients often resented state intervention and the very implication that they would defraud their taxes, so being told what was what by a short kid didn’t always impress no matter how many assurances there were that it was all just routine.

Well it was done now and in a day or two she would be heading out and home.

Not that she had hated here. There was a solid old world charm about the place and yet she had a sense that something burbled under the surface like a mountain stream. It put her in mind of Brigadoon or one of those towns that were only found by people searching for something. The lack of an interstate or even a major highway certainly fostered such ideas.

Perhaps that was why she had opted for staying at a small out of town family run hotel on the edge of town. From the vantage of distance she could remind herself she was an outsider, where she could avoid the questions and gazes of Main Street and get her head down once she had gone over her work of the day.

Hotel, well that was a joke, more like a halfway house judging from all the rules.

“Are you sure you want to stay here Ma’am?” she had been asked by Lincoln the proprietor when she had first rolled-up. “City folks usually put up at the Grand.”

He said city folks like they might be an alien species.

When he told her the rules she almost took the hint. The place even had a curfew and rules such as no baths after nine, no men in the room, no smoking anywhere… Ainsley had even taken a copy of these restrictions as a souvenir; the hotel was right out of the ark.

The other guests were seasonal workers and a handful of postgrad students who had yet to find permanent accommodation.

“We treat everyone as part of the family around here,” Lincoln had told her.

The old man winked at her as he spoke like he was keeping a secret and Ainsley thought again of Brigadoon.

“Were you born here?” Ainsley had asked politely.

“Bless you no Ma’am,” he had chuckled, “I came here after Nam looking for some peace. It was just what I needed, peace and order. The wife was from here though, mighty queer place I thought at first. But then I guess I went native. Most folks do I suppose, those that sticks around at any rate.”

Ainsley laughed at the thought and cast a glance over her shoulder at the town as she rounded the bend in the road. ‘A mighty queer place’ she thought, a proper use of that word if ever there was one.

She was still distracted and almost missed the turn. Not that it would have mattered. The roads were empty. A bath and bed she sighed and rolled her neck as she slowed at the drive.

It was full dark as she pulled up but there were more lights on than usual and several people seemed to be standing on the porch.

*

Ainsley had heard the rumours of course; one day she had met Tracy, one of Lincoln’s daughters on the porch wrestling with the coke machine.

“Darn thing,” a girl in spray-on leggings and long scraggly brown hair under a back-facing baseball cap cursed.

She looked rather out of place in a town where most of the girls were the picture of high school girls right out of the 1950s. The girl had been the first person to look as if she might actually live in the same century as her.

After that Tracy had had taken to hanging around Ainsley whenever she had come back from town and would eagerly question her about city life. She looked no more than 18, although Ainsley knew for a fact that she was no longer in school and worked full-time at the family hotel on reception and as a general dogsbody.

But Tracy was always keen to talk and Ainsley found the slight hero worship kind of cute. In any case it afforded Ainsley the chance to find out more about the town and the strange old-fashioned rules for the usual residents of the hotel.

“What happens if one of the guests breaks the rules? It all seems a bit odd doesn’t it?” Ainsley asked one day.

Tracy had shrugged and quickly became shy, “the usual,” she said, “Well for the girls who help out and the field hands anyway. Dad has an arrangement. You know, he handles things just as he always does, as he handles us girls.”

“The usual?” Ainsley had asked, adding, “And what arrangement?”

“You know,” Tracy had shrugged again, “The usual way things get handled in a family set-up, around here anyways. Dad has an arrangement with the local farm when he takes in girl-hands and pickers. Gets extra for it.”

Ainsley hadn’t pressed the point, but the first night there she had overhead what had definitely been someone getting a spanking. A bit old school where Ainsley came from but she had heard about such things out in the sticks and she vaguely wondered which of Lincoln’s daughter’s was in for it.

It had crossed Ainsley’s mind that Tracy might have meant this regime was extended to the young women from the farm they housed but she couldn’t quite believe it then. But yet here was the evidence.

Ainsley let the car door close with a clunk just to make sure they knew she was there. But no one even glanced at her.

Jeez this place really is out of the Stone Age, she thought as she surveyed the scene.

This particular scene involved Lincoln and his wife, Tracy and what looked like three of the field hands, one of whom looked in her mid-twenties.

All four of the younger women were naked below the waist and three of the four were facing the outside wall near reception with their bare behinds displayed. Two of these behinds had obviously been soundly spanked already and a third was across Lincoln’s knee getting her spanking. Only Tracy was still facing the wall and yet to have a turn.

Ainsley tried to stay cool but for once her confident city ways failed her and she just gaped.

“Don’t mind this Ma’am,” Ainsley called over cheerfully as if he were just watering roses or some such, “Just a general round-up of mischief.”

“What… eh… what did they do?” Ainsley spluttered. It seemed a safe enough question.

“Well we have three little girls who have got to learn that curfew means curfew don’t we girls?” Lincoln chuckled.

Two of the women facing the wall and the one over his knee all chirruped, “Yes Mr Lincoln.”

“Don’t you think…” Ainsley began, a sentence she didn’t really want to finish.

“Oh don’t worry Ma’am, I know a spanking don’t seem much, but it is just to get their attention. They have a long taste of strop coming up, don’t you girls?” Lincoln said brightly.

There was a less than enthusiastic reply from the girls this time and there was a broken mumbling of “Yes Sir.”

“Does that mean me too Dad?” Tracy piped up. She sounded anxious.

“Oh I’m thinking of something else for you,” Lincoln said darkly.

Ainsley hovered for a moment, her eyes locked in horrified fascination on the ever reddening bottom of the Latino girl across Lincoln’s lap. It was a dusky red and Ainsley couldn’t help noticing that her bottom was huge. The hotelier certainly had his work cut out.

The spanking lasted a while and by the end the panting kicking girl seemed quite distressed by the punishment. But from the way she pulled herself together so quickly Ainsley figured she was used to it, for by the time the woman was back facing the wall next to her fellows she had stopped her noise and was doing a little shimmy as if trying to shake out the sting.

Tracy was next and although they were hardly friends, Ainsley felt a little disloyal staying to watch so she bid an uncomfortable goodbye and made to go in.

“Oh Miss Greenburg,” Mrs Lincoln called over to her, “You have some mail. I’ll get it for you.”

“Oh eh… thank you,” Ainsley replied with a blush. She felt a bit of a ghoul and was suddenly embarrassed.

Mrs Lincoln was a matron of a woman with her greying hair piled like a cone on her head and like everyone else around those parts looked like she had stepped out of central casting for a bobby socks movie in the 1950s. A sort of every-mother, Ainsley thought. And where did she get that polka dot dress? It was hideous.

As they entered reception Ainsley asked, “Did Tracy miss curfew too? I mean…” she was suddenly curious.

“Oh no dear, she wouldn’t dare. She was just careless. She had a bath this morning and left it running,” Mrs Lincoln rolled up her eyes, “Oh the mess. Such a careless girl.”

Ainsley stopped in her tracks. The bath, she hadn’t… oh shit, she had run one this morning, correction had been running one and had then realised she was late. Had she shut off the taps? She had a sudden sinking feeling that she hadn’t.

“Oh… ah… eh… Mrs Lincoln, which… which bathroom was it that got flooded exactly?” A somewhat flustered Ainsley blanched and unconsciously grabbed at Mrs Lincoln’s arm.

*

“Mr Lincoln, Mr Lincoln,” Ainsley cried as she run back out onto the porch.

Tracy’s spanking was well underway by now and the girl’s bottom was really quite red. She was chewing her lip as the spanking got to the part where a girl went from coping with the sting to… well not.

“Lincoln,” Mrs Lincoln said in rather tetchy voice come up behind, “Lincoln I think you had better listen to what Miss Greenburg has to say.”

Lincoln stopped, his arm paused mid-air as he cocked his head like a man who resented the interruption but yet was mildly curious.

“Mr Lincoln, about the bath overrunning this morning… well I…” Ainsley let her mouth hang open before continuing, “Well I think it might have been me.” She winced, her eyes crinkling up and she seemed to stoop as if making herself smaller.

“What was you?” Lincoln frowned. What was this girl talking about?

“The bath, the overrunning bath, well I think I may have been the one who left it running,” Ainsley’s sentence ended with her mouth set to a grimace and her top teeth lightly touching the bottom row.

Lincoln frowned and drew in a small sharp breath and then slowly closed his eyes.

“Tracy,” he said in a slow deliberate questioning voice, “Did you leave the bath running this morning?”

Tracy, who was still draped over his lap with her head near the floor, answered in a somewhat strained muffled voice. “No Dad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lincoln sighed.

“Eh… well I didn’t think you would believe me and… and… well you didn’t exactly ask…” as her voice tailed off Tracy sounded uncertain, rather like a girl who was convinced that anything she said would get her into yet more trouble.

Lincoln Clamped his eyes shut in frustration and recalled the earlier confrontation. He had yelled first, accusing his daughter, no telling his daughter how mad he was that she had left the bath running again, he amended. He also recalled his anger as he recounted his previous promise of what would happen if she ever did it again.

“B-but Dad… I-I,” she had responded.

“Don’t you dare lie to me girl,” he had snapped back. A punishment for lying would have been worse, not that she was above it. But he should have at least… Lincoln winced.

“Mr Lincoln I am sooo sorry about this,” Ainsley said woefully as she wrung out her hands. About then she would have rather have been just about anywhere on Earth than on that porch.

Lincoln sniffed, not deigning to look anyone in the eye and gently pulled his daughter to a standing position.

“Pull your things up girl,” he barked.

“I’m sorry dad,” Tracy said sheepishly as she tugged up her panties and jeans.

“Why? Apparently you haven’t done anything,” he groaned. Just then he didn’t know where to look.

“I guess if I hadn’t of lied so many times before maybe you would have… listened?” she told him ruefully, the last word ending in a tentative question.

Lincoln nodded and looked at Tracy with a look of pride.

“Well then let that be a lesson to you,” he muttered.

“Yes Dad, sorry,” Tracy squeaked.

“Tracy I am so sorry, oh God,” Ainsley groaned as she clapped her hand to her head.

Lincoln pushed out his lower lip and nodded rapidly. Maybe he was considering something, maybe he didn’t need to. He shot a glance at his wife who glowered back with her arms sternly folded. Then she nodded.

“Miss Greenburg?” Lincoln suddenly looked up at his City slicker guest. “Has anyone ever taken you across their knee and given you a sound spanking on your bare bottom?” he asked.

Ainsley gaped and clutched at her throat.

“Mr Lincoln I know that… but if you think… I mean to say…” she spluttered. Unconsciously she had taken a step or two backwards.

Ainsley looked rapidly around in horror and time seemed to slow down. The surrounding reactions were varied.

The three women facing the porch wall didn’t move. It was as if whatever was happening was absolutely no concern to them. The Latino girl was still snivelling, her magnificent bottom jutting out heroically in profile. While the blonde next to her looked sullen with one hip slouched as she leaned into the wall. The third girl even looked bored and was scratching her bum.

Tracy, who had just escaped their fate, stood rubbing her bottom with both hands as she watched the City girl curiously.

Mrs Lincoln too was glaring at her, her arms folded with determination. It was an emotion Ainsley could have stood a little of herself.

“Mrs Lincoln, please…” she ventured nervously.

She looked at Lincoln pleadingly but he merely crooked his finger at her and extended an arm.

By what means, Ainsley never remembered, but one minute time hung on end and she had wanted to flee, the next to was being pulled gently but firmly towards Lincoln and manoeuvred around his lap before being thrown across his knee.

She felt the two hard logs of his thighs pressing into hers as she tumbled forward with her head dipped towards the floor and her arms brushing the planks.

“Mr Lincoln… you can’t do this to me,” she wailed.

There was a long pause as Lincoln appeared to be flummoxed by the apparently seamless business suit pants and he even scratched his head. Making this uppity city brat stand up again would lose him both face and momentum. Luckily he was saved by the intervention of his wife who stepped forward and reached under Ainsley’s waist.

“Noo-nooo nooo,” she spluttered as Mrs Lincoln deftly unhooked Ainsley’s pants and drew the tight grey material over her ample behind.

Ainsley was mortified that everyone could see her lacy brief panties and began to wail a protest. But Mrs Lincoln didn’t stop there. With a hook of her thumb she tugged the underwear smoothly over Ainsley’s cool white moons to join her pants at her ankles.

“Mrs Lincoln, do we have a hairbrush to hand?” Lincoln said with a mock Victorian-style jollity.

“Mr Lincoln, I do believe we do,” he wife replied in equal measure.

“C-come on now, I’m sorry okay, this has definitely gone far enough,” Ainsley wailed.

She began to squirm now but nothing could shake her lose and she had to watch Mrs Lincoln’s legs go by her downturned face and then return with a hard clack of heels on the wooden deck of the porch.

“Okay, okay, you crazy people spank, I get it, I guess I… well but can’t we do this somewhere else?” Ainsley protested.

“In a word Miss Greenburg, no,” Lincoln said brusquely.

All over debate ended with a mighty whack to Ainsley’s bare bottom and she gasped.

“This is, this is, oh God,” she moaned.

But any idea that the first spank had hurt was dispelled by the second and she yelled out more decisively. It was all downhill from there and as spank followed spank Ainsley kicked and bawled as she came face to face, that is to say bottom to the very hard face of a hairbrush and with Abraham Heights’ principle domestic past time.

Lincoln brought the brush down hard and with rhythm as he strove not to miss a single spot on Ainsley ample bottom. All the while she kicked a wailed with absolutely no thought of her dignity.

“I’m sorry,” she bawled, “So Sorry.”

“Not sorry enough to give a thought to Tracy, not sorry enough to think about anyone else,” Lincoln scolded, “You left a bath running for half an hour, have you any idea of the mess and damage?”

Despite her predicament, Ainsley did feel a definite pang for Tracy getting the blame but no so much that she would have agreed to this. Just wait until… what, she thought, until the boss hears and the guys back home? Who I am I gonna call, the cops?

The sting in her bottom had passed burn and being really quite unbearable to brazier hot and unquestionably the worst experience of her life. This isn’t happening, this isn’t… I’m… I’m…

“Jeeeessusfookingchrist,” she howled and did a rapid kick of her heels in frustration.

“Language,” Lincoln growled and gave her an extra sound spanking volley that hurt even for, an accomplishment that Ainsley would have sworn was impossible.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed over and over.

“Sorry enough to agree that you deserve what Tracy got?” Lincoln snapped.

“Y-eess sir,” she bleated and dipped in her knees as her ankles cross in an attempt to mitigate the burn.

“And what she was going to get?” Lincoln pressed.

“Wh-what?” Ainsley sobbed.

Lincoln let in with another rapid volley that stole Ainsley’s, breath, composure and all reason.

“Yessss ssssssssssssssir,” she honked, kicking her knees in unison as she bucked.

“Then when we’re done here and you have calmed down a little in time out then I’ll show you how we really handle things around here,” Lincoln growled as he set to with another volley.

“Lincoln,” his wife muttered softly and gave him a pitying look.

Tracy too looked pensive even as she looked on in awe.

“Aw…” Lincoln sighed, “I guess it is your first isn’t it?”

“Yes Sir,” Ainsley sobbed.

“Go and stand in the corner before I change my mind,” he said gently.

Ainsley could have kissed him. Her bottom throbbed like a torment of hell and she doubted she would ever sit down again but she felt kneeling gratitude to the man who had spanked her. Compared with the spanking the utter mortifying shame of standing to face the wall in front of everyone was a passing ordeal. After all she was just like one of the family wasn’t she?

She got stiffly to her feet and seized her bottom for a vigorous rub. Then she saw Mrs Lincoln disapproving look and blushed. Of course, it figured, and she snatched her hands away. Nor did she need to be told not to restore her clothing. Bare bottom drill was the order of the day judging by the other girls.

As she put her nose to the wall she sniffed and wondered idly how long she would have to stand there. At least for her the spanking was over, for even as she took her place she heard one of the other girls called away from the wall and told to bend over the porch rail.

There was something compelling about the sound of the strap as it landed across the other women’s bare bottom and Ainsley almost wished she could have turned to watch. Still the night air had begun to feel good on her bare bottom and perhaps for the first time in her adult life she felt clean, at ease even, there was a strange simplicity to it all.

Still behind the strap continued to land and the proximity and discipline of facing the wall was relentless. It was going to be a long night.

Melanie Crow eased herself through the door taking small careful steps. She knew there was another girl waiting and studiously avoided any eye contact as she left. It was a cinch that this new student of Roland Archer had heard everything and if Mel’s pain wasn’t written on her face, a blush certainly was.

Charlie had indeed been listening and now sat nervously chewing on her lower lip. She had heard that Roland Archer was a spanker, but her grades were slipping and the sorority took a dim view of such things; a very dim view indeed. Compared to what they might do, what was a spanking or two to perk up her studies or so she had thought? But now she had heard Archer in action she wasn’t so sure. Surely he couldn’t be worse than Catherine Marks et al. She gulped. From what she had heard and the way the way the other girl was walking she imagined Professor Archer had some bite after all.

Melanie Crow made the front door without looking back and every step was followed by a rapt Charlie teasing her teeth in a wince with every step. So absorbed was she in Melanie’s departure that she didn’t hear the professor until he spoke.

“Charlotte Coleman I presume,” he said.

Charlie jerked in her seat and quickly stood up. She turned to confront the rather ordinary looking man in a tweed jacket without tie and a smile reminiscent of a guidance counsellor. Charlie hated such people and made to swallow. Perhaps she should offer to come back another Saturday.

“Just Charlie,” she offered carefully.

She half expected the man to insist on Charlotte, he certainly looked the conservative type and she braced herself.

“Charlie it is,” he smiled more warmly and despite herself Charlie smiled back.

“I… I have come… that is…” she began awkwardly.

“Come and have some tea,” Archer said with a wink and offered her the room beyond the door with an outstretched arm.

Charlie drew her lips into a firm line and managed a nod and then with the merest assault of butterfly wings on the lining of her stomach she ducked her head and squeezed past her new tutor desperate not to make the least physical contact.

*

Donna felt silly. There was no other word for it. Here she was a 28-year-old college teacher standing in a dormitory housemother’s room in just her white cotton blouse, a bra and a pair of cutie short pink socks. She eyed her denim pants and white silk panties on the chair by the door trying to find the will to snatch them up and leave. There were many better ways to be spending her Saturdays than this.

She was still working up the nerve, or pretending to, when she heard Mrs Main returning and grimacing in panic made a scurry for the corner where she was supposed to be. Donna had only just felt the cool of the plaster at her forehead where she had most exactingly order to place it when the door opened and someone entered the room behind her. Just in time she remembered to clasp her hands neatly into the small of her back.

It could be anyone for all Donna knew, she didn’t dare turn to look. You are so… she winced as she berated herself… so whipped. The heat rose in her face and for the 10,000^th time she ran the options through her head.

“Ah, Dr Warren, on time and in place I see,” Mrs Main said cheerfully. “And in position number one, you remembered. Good girl.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Donna said in a voice as close to surly as she dared.

Mrs Main frowned and her eyes narrowed.

“I think we will have your hands behind your head, with the elbows touching both walls,” Mrs Main said sharply.

Donna gulped and quickly complied.

“Yes Ma’am,” she agreed in a rather more respectful tone this time.

The act of lifting her arms also raised the hem of her blouse in back and her pert dusky bottom was revealed to the housemother’s gaze. It was a satisfying enough sight, but one she had seen often. To her it only signified one more of her charges learning her place.

As for Donna, she was wondering if after a week of not putting a foot wrong she had fallen at the last hurdle. What was wrong with her, she knew Mrs Main wouldn’t tolerate the slightest rebellion. The woman had her beat; literally. She felt rather lightheaded at the prospect of a harder session with the housemother and icy finger of dread clawed at her belly at the thought of the row of enema bags and other such accoutrements she had been shown on that first Saturday. She had been told then that she would endure extra suffering once a month or so or whenever she crossed the line. Otherwise she merely faced a spanking. God let this not be one of those Saturdays, please, please, please God, she silently prayed.

Mrs Main paused for long effect and then brusquely told Donna: “As you have been in on time every night this week and have so far complied with my instructions… I think… yes, just a maintenance spanking this morning.” Although Donna did not see it the woman nodded decisively and crossed the room to her writing desk adding, “Next week or the week after we will have a more serious session to keep you on your toes. I trust you will continue to behave and not add to that. It seems to have been working so far doesn’t it? Funny what you can do with the right incentive isn’t it?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Donna’s relief was palpable and she visibly loosened in the corner.

There was a long silence then and Donna could feel the pulse hammering in her head and the hush of quiet in her ears. The sounds beyond the room were faint and surreal now, belonging as they did to another world.

Then there was a rattle and a clunk followed by the sound of a draw or cupboard being opened.

“Alright Dr Warren, please come here,” Mrs Main said sharply.

Donna stole a rueful glance over her shoulder to see the housemother sitting in her favourite armless chair, her gingham draped thighs like two unyielding logs and the English teacher gulped. Mrs Main was holding a large black wooden hairbrush and as Donna watched, the formidable woman patted her lap and sadly beckoned to her diminutive tenant.

*

“What made you seek out my tutoring services?” Archer asked politely as he poured some tea.

Charlie set her mouth ready to answer and then swallowed back the words. It was a tricky question.

“I am well-known for getting results, but I am rather strict. Not many girls seek me out voluntarily. Most are sponsored by their families or their sorority,” Archer smiled pleasantly while Charlie composed herself.

The girl put all her apparent attention into the tea cup and blushed.

“It is like this Professor Archer,” she began. “I mean you have it really, my sorority… well you know… I wanted to address my grades before they really got on my case.”

“That is very commendable, but it doesn’t really answer my question does it?” Archer said kindly.

“No Sir, that is… well you see I am a bit of a coward and well… with a real incentive I wouldn’t want…” Charlie sighed and hunched over into herself as she wrung her hands before continuing, “That is I thought given your reputation that… well you really have no idea how rough the girls can get,” Charlie finished in all of a rush.

“Oh I think I do, but tell me, what is my reputation exactly?” Archer ended his question with a hard stare.

“You spank girls don’t you?” Charlie mumbled.

“As does your sorority,” Archer countered, “You think I will go easier do you?”

“No Sir but…” Charlie sighed, “Why don’t you explain how this works please Sir.”

Roland Archer smiled and slowly poured more tea into his cup for dramatic effect.

“It is really quite simple. You show me your work and I point out where you are going wrong and suggest better approaches. In some cases I will set work of my own and I warn at such times I am very demanding,” he said, his voice firm and paternal now. “But there are rules and consequences. Firstly, you will never ever be late, the penalties for tardiness are cumulative I am afraid and ultimately quite effective. Secondly, you will not answer me back or argue. I won’t dwell on that; suffice to say most young women run into trouble with me on this score sooner or later. It is a sign of the times I fear.”

He watched Charlie carefully for a response but she remained dutifully silent.

“Generally girls are punished for repeat mistakes and not listening to what they are told. This is the crux of my method… that is… zero tolerance. Make a mistake and you are punished. Make the same mistake and that goes double and so on,” he explained.

Charlie let her mouth form an O as she let out a slow breath. All the while her eyes were fixed on the middle distance as if seeing something he couldn’t see.

“The sorority’s punishments are all a bit arbitrary, designed to break a girl down I suppose. I need that too but… there is a consistency in your approach,” she said ruefully. “How do you punish exactly… I mean…?” she blushed.

“That all depends on the girl. No bottom left un-reddened I am afraid,” he chuckled, “But some girls respond to a sound spanking across my knee and others need a touch of the cane or a paddle or… well we will work that out as we go on,” he said reassuringly.

“Assuming it is necessary of course,” Charlie chipped in.

“Oh it will be necessary Miss Coleman,” Archer said sharply.

“But maybe just the prospect of…” Charlie put in hopefully, but she couldn’t say the words.

“Are you arguing with me Charlie?” Archer asked, his voice as arched as his eyebrows.

“Oh no Sir,” Charlie gasped.

Archer smiled, but the steel didn’t leave his eyes. “You see how easy it is to go astray?” he said.

Charlie firmly closed her mouth and nodded.

They sat in silence for a moment with Archer noisily stirring his tea as he waited for something. He hated these gaps in the conversation but one had to give a girl time to think.

“So Charlie, do you think you want to take this forward?” he said at last.

Charlie sighed and then very shyly said, “Yes Sir.”

*

Donna wondered if she had ever been spanked so hard. It was almost as if every encounter with Mrs Main so far had been a practice for this. The woman had the strength of 10 men or so it seemed then, for Donna had been bucking with all her might under the onslaught but so far her bottom had not dodged one spank.

Mrs Main had opted to hold Donna’s right wrist in the small of her back while the teacher steadied herself with the left against the leg of the chair. In any case Donna’s bare bottom was elevated to good effect and only her legs were semi-free to kick and cross ankles under the relentless blast of the spanking.

The biting sting of the brush where it struck her behind had begun harsh and quickly ascended to the heights of unbearable. Not that Donna was ready to submit. Instead she clamped her jaw and hissed out intermittent groans as she tried to ride the pain.

From Mrs Main’s point of view Donna’s failure to announce the landing spanks was a show of defiance; the girl must be getting used to it, she decided. All the same there were already two dark red ovals staining the woman’s pert bottom cheeks and as the punishment progressed the tender pads of soreness spread outward to encompass ever more of Donna’s bottom.

The housemother put the brush to the woman ever harder, biting both under her curves and then along the summits before returning to undermine the sitting area. The crack of the impacts came fast and loud so that even after just five minutes Mrs Main reckoned she must have landed four or five hundred spanks.

Finally Donna broke and let go with a “uhh-oooh” before settling on a rapid pained repeat of “Christ, oh Christ.”

“I am going to give you two spankings today,” Mrs Main said angrily, “Why are you being so stubborn?”

Bitch, Donna thought, but for some reason the unspoken sentiment made her feel ashamed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Donna tearfully admitted the unspoken insult.

“Good girl, but you’re still having the extra spanking and we are not yet done with this one,” Mrs Main said firmly.

Maybe it was this promise or maybe it was just the kind word, but Donna spluttered out a sob and the floodgates opened. After that she could no more stop bawling than get off of the housemother’s lap. Not that the spanking was done. If Mrs Main had bothered to time it she would have known that the rest of the spanking lasted another eight minutes.

*

The sorority house was as lively as ever when Charlie arrived back from her meeting with Professor Archer. Davina Davis was talking animatedly on the phone in the hall and didn’t even give her glance, although Charlie’s bottom clenched all the same.

This went double when she saw what was happening in the lounge.

Her friends Anna Lee and Tammy Jacob were draped over the back of a couch with their tennis skirts turned up and their panties somewhere south of their knees. Their bottoms were already a healthy shade of red but Catherine Marks standing by them with a paddle looked far from finished admonishing them.

“How dare you enter the lounge in sports attire,” Catherine berated them.

“But we are playing tennis this afternoon,” Anna wailed.

Although Charlie couldn’t see her face, she could recognise that edge of tears voice. But the familiar small domed bottom was the real give away.

“Oh I don’t think so,” Catherine countered.

By way of punctuation she swatted first Anna and then Tammy with three paddle-strokes apiece. Both girls yelped their appreciation.

“What you are going to do when I am done with you is get your noses in the corner of this room and stay there for the rest of the afternoon as an example. Don’t you girls ever read the handbook?” she brought down another mighty swat to Anna’s vulnerable bare bottom, “No,” she swatted again, “Sportswear,” and again, “in the,” once more, “Lounge.”

This process was repeated with Tammy who really gave the impacts voice.

Charlie had seen enough and wincing in sympathy carefully slipped away and made her way upstairs. When a pledge mistress was in a spanking mood one never knew what would get picked up on. Besides, she had a handbook to read.

*

Donna cried long and hard in Mrs Main’s arms while the older woman soothed her.

“You don’t understand any of this, do you?” the housemother cooed.

“No Ma’am,” Donna sobbed and it was true.

She knew now she could leave and tell this woman where to get off but yet… the elusive thought slipped away and Donna began bawling more heartedly for a while.

“I meant it about that other spanking,” Mrs Main sighed.

“I know,” Donna said wistfully and sniffed as she brought her tears under control.

“But that comes later,” the housemother said, resolve returning to her voice. “Now I know a young lady who has corner time to do.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Donna sniffed and got achingly to her feet.

The long walk to her angular bar-less prison was unbelievably sore-making and her still exposed bottom flared with every step. Even without another spanking Donna knew she would be lucky to sit easily all week. Just in time for another Saturday with Mrs Main. Oh joy, she thought ruefully, this town is crazy.

*Sorority picture courtesy of TipTopper

Donna sat on her bed and watched the daylight flood her coming Saturday. There should have been another word for what she was feeling. Anticipatory and trepidation were two words that didn’t really cover it. There was fear and excitement as well as… she sighed. She felt like a moth to a flame, only to be fair it was an entirely voluntary lure that she was responding to.

Donna Warren weighed up the options. She was 28 and on staff. In many ways she was more senior than the housemother Mrs Main, but the latter’s authority was undeniable, as had been proved.

Donna had crossed her once too often and however much Donna protested she was now subject to a regular discipline regime. To escape her dread fate all she had to do was pack her things and move into a hotel. If she put her mind to it she could find a lodging house anywhere in town and then…

For some reason she thought about the Heaver’s house and their lodger Prudence Trencher. Donna doubted that there was a female bottom under 60 that was safe in this town.

But a sudden anger grabbed her then. No, not anger, if she had to get spanked when she screwed up then how comes she didn’t get to be spanked by a hunk like Paul Heaver? Oh sure there was the risk of being seen getting it by the rest of the family but wouldn’t they all be in it together? After all she had discovered that Bridget Heaver was sometimes spanked and she was 10 years older than Donna.

Here at Carlton House all the other girls spanked were younger than her and some of them her own students. It was humiliating. It was more than that it was…

So the circular argument raged on. She didn’t want a choice, not that she knew that really. Choice was no choice to her. If she had to decide she would choose an unfulfilled lonely unspanked life. She hadn’t the courage do otherwise. What choice was that?

So then Abraham Heights was perfect. Sooner or later everyone like her got spanked. That was the one central truth about the town. No, the problem was with the choice that was imposed upon her.

Mrs Main was too strict and too and… well far from a maiden’s dream in any regard for a red blooded straight-up girl like Donna.

She blushed and thought about the parades of well-spanked girl flesh she had seen in recent months. It was almost worth putting up with Mrs Main for. So where did that leave her so-called straight-up credentials?

If only she didn’t have to get spanked quite so often and so hard. A year in a freshman dorm might be fun. Hell, it was quite a blast apart from…

Donna sighed. It all began and ended with Mrs Main.

*

Prudence yawned and dragged on the bathrobe hanging on the back of her door. It took a moment to give and yield to her pull as she shuffled onto the landing, but coffee and breakfast beckoned. She loved Saturdays.

As she reached the kitchen she saw Mindy and grinned.

“Morning Mindy,” Prudence said absently as she went past.

“Good morning Miss Trencher,” Mindy said ruefully, her voice somewhat dulled by the plasterwork pressing into her face.

This morning the 19-year-old wore only her PJ top and some fluffy kitten slippers. With her hands on her head her pink striped PJ top was lifted off her smooth white bare bottom that jutted tightly from under its hem.

Prudence had forgotten that Mindy was due a spanking, the prospect of which made for a pleasant morning for the former, if not for the latter woman.

“What did you do again?” Prudence asked as she dropped two slices into the toaster.

Mindy rolled her eyes and blushed into the wall. She had been up since seven to begin her cornertime and it was mortifying; more than that the waiting was playing on her nerves. It had been nearly two hours now and her arms and legs had begun to ache. She shifted awkwardly.

“I… I eh… kind of broke curfew,” Mindy muttered.

“Curfew? But you were grounded,” Prudence said in surprise.

“Yah,” Mindy said in a flat dejected voice.

“You mean… oh dear,” Prudence chewed her lower lip in amusement and then retrieved the toast slices.

“I was busted sneaking back in,” Mindy sighed.

The morning she had been planning included staying in bed until at least 9.30 and then facing a weekend finally free of restriction. But she couldn’t wait. Sneaking out for an hour had seemed such a good idea yesterday.

Worse still, she hadn’t been allowed to phone anyone, not even Grace and Alice who were due to arrive at 10 to take her off to the mall. Even if Uncle Paul got around to spanking her by then it was a cinch she would be back in the corner for a good cry and still there when they arrived. She might even still be getting it. This was shaping up to be a very miserable day.

Prudence eyed Mindy’s bottom and wondered if she should postpone her own shopping trip. Idly she nibbled on toast and leaned on the kitchen counter as she surveyed the penitent Mindy. Sometimes she loved this town and her home with the Heavers.

*

Donna pretended to read the poster in the hall outside Mrs Main’s room. There were still a few freshman girls about and it would be embarrassing being seen going in just yet. Not that anyone paid her any mind. Girls were often seen loitering by the notice board and not all of them were working up the nerve to knock on the housemother’s door and face the music. Sometimes they just wanted to read the notices.

The English teacher had opted for a teal polka dot smock-dress over slate grey leggings. It made her look younger and less stand-outey next to the younger women. It was a look she could still carry off being a diminutive 28.

She looked at her watch and then back up the hall. It was a minute to go. She drew in a long slow breath and then let it out fast. Showtime, she thought and sighed.

The knock to the door was casual and half-hearted as if she hoped she wouldn’t be heard.

“One moment please Dr Warren,” Mrs Main called from inside.

The announcement of her name made Donna’s heart leap and she looked around anxiously. She felt like a teenager buying condoms from a particularly indiscreet druggist.

Time dragged then. The early minute slowly dripped into a late two and then three minutes. Irrationally Donna became afraid that Mrs Main would hold her responsible. Her buttocks clenched involuntarily.

Then at once the door opened and an alien face appeared. Alien because it wasn’t the housemother, but a short redhead with a screwed up lemon face. The girl was even shorter than Donna and had been crying. Without meeting her eyes the red-haired girl gingerly squeezed past lest she make any contact at all.

It was obvious she had been spanked and from the way she made pigeon steps back up the hall, Donna could tell that it had been a heavy session too.

“Come in Dr Warren,” Mrs Main said irritably, “We have wasted enough time as it is.”

Donna stepped inside quickly and let the door close behind her, shoving it home with her bottom as she faced the room.

“I’m sorry I…” Donna began, unaccountably ready with an apology for being late even though she patently hadn’t been.

“Sally Godwin needed a prolonged lesson in manners and punctuality,” Mrs Main explained with a nod in the direction the redhead had limped off.

Donna too nodded and made a small swallow.

“If you’re busy I can…” she offered nervously.

“No Dr warren, you and I have a long morning ahead of us,” the housemother said with an indulgent smile.

“About that,” Donna began. “I really don’t think… I mean to say…”

Mrs Main made a heavy sigh and stiffened.

“I don’t mean to be… ah…” Donna said hastily when she saw Mrs Main produce a large hairbrush.

“I had intended to be firm with you today and now I see how right I was,” the older woman said wearily.

As she spoke she tapped the brush against the palm of her hand and Donna gulped.

“It always comes down to this doesn’t it,” Mrs Main sighed, “You just don’t get it. You think I am being unfair. You think that I am a stickler for some antiquated rules. Above all, you think you are too old and all fired important to go across my knee for a good sound spanking. Have you any idea how many girls in my charge have expressed that attitude?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Donna wailed, her voice sounding way too shrill now.

“That’s because you are just old and wise enough to know that you need this; on some level anyway. Why else do you let me spank you?” the housemother’s lips formed a determined purse.

Donna gaped and made to protest. Her mouth made small silent motions like a fish and her hands strayed to her bottom.

“I-I don’t want this, really I don’t, you’re wrong,” she managed at last.

“I didn’t say you wanted it,” Mrs Main said with a groan, “Very few of you girls want it. I said you need it and you know it.”

“I am not one of your girls,” Donna said rather childishly and pouted.

“Dr Warren,” the housemother said with a sad smile, adding earnestly, “Donna. Of course you are. Do you really think that you are the first 20-something woman to get a spanking from me, the first member of faculty? I have been the housemother here since my husband…” she made a sour expression and looked away, “Since I wasn’t much older than you are now. I have seen it all.”

“But…” Donna whispered, again ready to perhaps protest.

Mrs Main sighed and sat down in the familiar armless chair the English lecturer had seen too often before. Then she crooked her finger to beckon Donna over.

The 28-year-old took an involuntary step and then fluttered like a small bird.

“You can take that polka dot thing off and those pant-things, whatever they are. Heavens, the clothes you girls wear,” the housemother said sharply. “At once girl or you really will regret it.”

Donna made a defiant pout with her lips and for a second she tried a glare. But her head dipped in a second and her face lit up like a cherry beacon.

“Dr Warren, I am waiting,” Mrs Main growled.

Donna sucked in air through her nose and let it out through her mouth which stayed open in an expression of permanent surprise. Then with a clumsy fumble she reached around to work the zip on her smock-dress and slipped it over her head. Then at another sharp look from Mrs Main, Donna stepped hastily out of her leggings.

“Panties too,” the order came in a tone of exhausted patience.

Donna’s face was soured as she obeyed.

“Now come here,” the housemother said firmly.

Dressed only in her bra and ankle socks, Donna moved forward with the smallest steps possible until Mrs Main was in reach of her arm. Then suddenly seized she was readily upended in a beat with her head down and her bare bottom thrust up over the older woman’s lap. She wriggled.

With her head hanging just inches from the floor she dangled helplessly as her eyes rolled like a cornered wild pony. Her hot head contrasting with the chill on the flesh of her behind as her heart raced. Donna’s mouth-breathing the only sound as time hung much as she did.

“This, as they say,” Mrs Main sighed, “Is just for openers.”

‘This’ coincided with a sharp impact to Donna’s bottom and she gasped. The spank was no harder or sharper than any she had felt before but there was no getting used to it and the sting overwhelmed her.

The flat of brush cracked down four, five and six times more; all in less than 10 seconds until Donna’s jaw was clamped tight as she bucked up and down. The aching burn built up like layers as she tried to bear it.

“I have said this before I think,” Mrs Main said casually as if to another woman she might be sharing a coffee with, “But it is strange that after the first few weeks of a semester, where perhaps I have spanked almost half the girls under my care at least once; afterwards it is the same dozen bottoms that return over and over.”

Donna moaned, the housemothers words unescapable but secondary to the pain. The brush spanked down with renewed vigour to follow the same pattern as before as Mrs repeated another five or six swats.

“You are rare in that it is usually the younger girls who are most in need. But then you have no opportunity to explore the sororities as some do,” Mrs Main continued to ponder aloud.

Her words did not slow her hand however, and the spanking continued until Donna thought she would cry out for America.

“Mrs Main,” she gasped, “Please I… ahhh.”

“You have this coming girl, you know you do,” the housemother scolded as she spanked on. “I am going to blister your bottom to a cherry red and that’s just to get your attention. Do you hear me girl?”

Donna remembered Mrs Main’s promises and the horror chamber that was the bathroom. The housemother, she knew, had canes and sizable paddles too; all manner of things that Donna had yet to feel. She had been warned that their little arrangement would include them all sooner or later and on a regular basis.

“Do you hear me?” Mrs Main asked urgently as she spanked in hard with another volley. “Why do you insist on such pride? Here you are nothing but a naughty girl to be spanked.”

“Yes Mrs Main,” Donna wailed, but she was on the edge and her eyes bugged in her head. Her bottom was on fire now.

The spanking resounded off the ceiling loud enough to be a claxon and Donna had enough left in her to blush at the thought that others might hear. Then the burn overwhelmed her and mewling sound escaped her throat.

“That’s it girl, that’s it, let it go,” Mrs Main urged as she spanked in hard; there were great pounding spanks wringing the submission out of the good doctor.

“Ahh eeeeh,” Donna howled, tears in abundance suddenly flowing around her nose which had let go with some moisture of its own. Each biting impact of the hairbrush was felt on her bottom like sharp flaking layers.

“We are not done here girl, we are not done,” Mrs Main told her as she completed the second or third dozen set of spanking volleys.

“No Ma’am,” Donna said miserably and then she began to cry in earnest.

*

Meanwhile across town Mindy had troubles of her own. On opening the door to Grace and Alice, her mother Bridget had been confused for a moment. Then she remembered that Mindy should have been ungrounded that morning and no doubt she and the two girls had expected to go to the mall.

“Oh yes,” Bridget said uncertainly, she pulled her dressing gown up around her throat defensively; it felt decadent to be still not dressed even on a Saturday. “You had better come in,” she continued.

Alice and Grace knew something was amiss at once and this house being the scene of many previous humiliations for both them and their friend Mindy they were on their guard.

Mindy had been soundly spanked by Paul just 20 minutes before right there in the dining room while her mother and Prudence had looked on. Now back in the corner she had only just gotten her crying under control and learned to cope with the burning ache in her still exposed bottom. Now she had to contend with this new humiliation.

“Mindy is indisposed this morning,” Bridget said matter-of-factly, “Would you like some coffee?”

“So I see,” Alice gaped as the two of them saw Mindy.

“No coffee thanks,” Grace added quickly, now eager not offend anyone just then.

Nor were they alone. Prudence Trencher was smiling casually as she enjoyed her fourth cup of coffee at the counter. She too was in no hurry this morning.

“Hello girls,” she said, saluting them with her mug.

“Hello Miss Trencher,” Alice answered distractedly, her attention elsewhere.

“I guess Mindy won’t be coming to the mall?” Grace said brightly as if nothing was amiss.

She was both amused and embarrassed all at once, although not as embarrassed as Mindy who wanted to melt into the wall.

“I don’t think so,” Bridget agreed, “I think Mindy may get grounded for another week yet.”

Mindy shifted position a tad as she faced the wall, and fresh tears pricked her eyes. Go away, she urged her friends silently.

“Perhaps we should have coffee,” Grace said lightly.

Alice elbowed her sharply.

Prudence’s friendly eye caught hers and she gently nodded at the door.

“Well we had…” Alice thumbed at the air, her eyes drifting to Mindy’s mottled red bare bottom. “We had better go then.”

“Goodbye Mindy,” Grace said innocently.

“Yes goodbye,” Mindy answered in a sullen voice.

An amused Bridget escorted the two 18-year-olds to the door with a nonchalant wave. But once the door closed everyone heard them giggle.

Mindy lurched with a single pained sob and began to cry again.

*

In Carlton House Donna faced a corner of her own. Behind her an exposed bottom seemed to fill the room as it pulsed; never had it felt so big. She hadn’t been allowed to rub, but if she had she would have felt two hard leathery patches of hot pain simmering gently as her backside cooled.

At her desk Mrs Main skimmed through some papers, occasionally casting a casual eye over at Donna. Dr Warren’s bottom looked as if it had been dipped in maroon paint and even had a dull sheen to it. She noticed too that the skin was no longer smooth but held welty bumps where the brush had made contact. The cane would sting her nicely later on but before that Mrs Main had resolved upon a session in the bathroom. Nothing so humbled a girl as much as a two or three prolonged enemas.

“How are you finding the corner this morning?” the housemother asked pointedly.

Donna became tense and sucked in air through her nose. Her face was wet and in a teary voice she answered, “It’s embarrassing Ma’am.”

“I mean it to be,” Mrs Main chuckled, “But imagine how much more so if I put you in the corner outside the door.”

The threat startled Donna and she whimpered.

“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” Mrs Main asked.

Donna’s jaw dropped and she risked a wide-eyed glance over her shoulder.

The housemother winked and offered her an emphatic nod. “Don’t worry, it’s not nearly so bad as two dozen strokes of the cane. Not on a sore bottom like yours.”

“But… Mrs Main please… I haven’t… I mean… Donna spluttered.

The older woman sighed, “If you are going to tell me you don’t deserve this I am going to spank you again.”

“Ooh,” Donna groaned, this was too much.

Donna Warren lay face down on her bed in a state of exhaustion. Her bottom felt like it had been reamed by a telegraph pole and the tight anal bud felt pepper-hot as it positively pulsed with pain. In fact this tender gem sat between two engorged hills of aching soreness and she felt like a tiny thing reduced to the red bottom looming up behind her.

She could still feel the tight sawing lines of two dozen cane strokes and how she had wept and begged under the onslaught. Mrs Main had been right; the thorough cleansing had been nothing to that.

Donna blushed at the thought of cleansing, never had she felt so utterly… humiliated wasn’t the word and embarrassed didn’t half cover it. Her mind seized upon the word ‘humbled’ and other words like ‘surrendered’ and… she sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. The phrase ‘carefree liberation’ popped into her head and Donna cruelly supressed it.

She felt emptied out, as if all her preconceptions of self and all her sins had been poured down a drain and she had been reformed anew. It was almost as if she were a blank slate waiting to be written upon.

Donna sniffed and wiped the dampness from her face as she flushed with shame. The walk back from Mrs Main’s room had been an ordeal in itself and the English teacher’s gait had drawn a good many smirks and stares as she had limped to her room.

It was quite possible that she would never ever sit down again, Donna thought ruefully as she shifted on the bed to try and get comfortable.

“I hate that woman, I hate her,” she cursed, slamming the mattress hard with her fist.

But her words lacked conviction or resolve and Donna knew in her heart that they were not true. But what exactly did she feel towards this woman? Nothing sexual, that was for sure, but she blushed as she replayed that thought in her mind. Her sex ached and not from any abuse by the housemother.

I need to be honest, she thought, this time more fiercely. Falling back on her academic training she turned her new life over in her mind. Okay I don’t hate Mrs Main, but what do I feel? She let her mind go blank and the words come.

Awe, respect, intimacy… the last one shocked her and she rolled it around in her head. She had never been so intimate with anyone before, was it sexual? Be honest she thought, you have a thing for spanking and always have. Living in Carlton House is a wet dream made real. She thought then about the lines of spanked girls and what she had seen; it had been better than a good lay.

Donna found a smile.

So it is not Mrs Main but the situation itself I find… she worked her mouth and dived back into her thoughts. It wasn’t that she hadn’t fantasised about being spanked but the reality was, well too real and it hurt. But that had led to other aspects. She thought about her utter surrender.

Superficially I want it, fundamentally I need it, she thought. Then she remembered a trick her father had taught her when she had been weighing up dumping a boyfriend.

“Imagine that you will never see him again,” he had said while sucking on his pipe in that wise way of his, “Perhaps, if you can bear it, think of him dead. What would you do to bring him back, can you bear life without him?”

Donna thought about Abraham Heights, Mrs Warren and all to look it squarely in that face. I must be mad, she decided, but heaven help me but I never want to leave this crazy place.

Suddenly and without warning Donna burst into tears, great buckets of them that went on and on until she was empty.

*

Roland Archer contemplated Melanie Crow’s bare bottom with an expert eye. His student was kneeling on the leather pouf with her hands on the floor. This, as ever, served to elevate her behind to full effect and roundly presented for correction.

As he took up the cane Archer noted some mottled red marks and some faint traces of bruises on the girl’s otherwise smooth flesh.

“Had a run in with your sorority sisters have you, or was it something more domestic?” he said casually, sharing his observation.

“Two tardies and a eh… smart mouth, Sir” Melanie answered confidentially.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t thoroughly embarrassed or exactly at ease with the thought of a sound thrashing from her tutor but she had signed up for it and there was no denying that today she was entirely deserving. Besides if her sister Anita found out she had reneged on her deal then there would be hell to pay. After all Anita had put her ass quite literally on the line to save Mel’s.

“I see,” Archer continued, “And the domestic situation?”

Was Professor Archer angling for something, Melanie wondered, what did he know? “Not that I know of,” she said.

It was hard to speak calmly in such a compromising position and the posture itself took some effort and that left her breathing audibly. Punishment from Archer sometimes demanded some athletic accomplishment.

Archer thought about his suspicion that his former student Anita and her younger Melanie sister were up to something. Could it be that mummy and daddy, not to mention the sorority didn’t know about Melanie’s bad grades? Not his business, was it?

“Tell me what are we in for today?” he asked changing the subject.

“Pardon, Sir,” Melanie said blinking.

“For what am I about to cane you and how many do you think you deserve?” Archer said sharply, enunciating every word.

“Oh that,” Melanie sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Yes that,” Archer rasped.

“Eh… I was late with my essay,” Melanie offered tentatively through nervous teeth.

“You were indeed and for the second time this month,” Archer said deflated. “Tell me, what does that require?”

“That I am punished, Sir,” Melanie offered meekly.

“How many strokes girl? Archer barked impatiently.

“Six,” Melanie suggested and then winced.

“Six extra for cheek you mean,” Archer chuckled.

“Ooh,” Melanie squealed, she never learned, “Perhaps 15…” she tried.

“Melanie,” he warned.

She closed her eyes and winced. Eighteen would have been nearer the mark and had she said that first he might have settled on that. But now if she offered it he might up-it some more. Did she dare ask for the 18 plus his added six or… she gulped, surely he wouldn’t make it 30? Oh Christ, if she got it wrong it could easily edge up to 36.

“T-twen-tee… four,” she said with a wince as if testing a bomb.

“Very well,” he said indulgently, “But one cheeky word or a foot out of place and I’ll add another six extras,” he told her sternly.

Melanie let her mouth hang open to aid breathing and braced herself. The cane cut her like a bitch.

“Ah,” she exclaimed.

Archer waited for the pink line to develop and puff up a little and then sliced in another. Melanie grunted angrily for this and immediately hoped that it didn’t count as attitude.

The third stroke was a little sharper and tears pricked at Melanie’s eyes.

Archer had decided on paying her out for a slow nine before having a pause. The fourth certainly made this point and Melanie rocked back as she let out a long slow hiss as she awaited the fifth. By the time he was finished this set, the second nine would be so much more effective.

Later on Melanie would do half an hour in the corner, on her own time of course, before he served up the extras in front of his next student. That would underline the need for her not to test him.

*

Fully cried-out Donna felt refreshed. One day she would write a paper on the catharsis of spanking, the thought tickled her and she found a laugh. So young lady, she told herself ruefully, you’re a girl who needs regular spanking hmm, but in the long run is Mrs Main the one to do it?

Obviously not, but on the other hand any situation like this was always going to be beyond her control, that was the nature of it. It was never going to work otherwise. So in fact she might not have a choice.

“I don’t have the courage to just surrender to it, I have to be made to give in,” she whispered earnestly.

This revelation filled her with dread. She couldn’t cope with another session like today’s, she just couldn’t. She felt a surge of panic as if she was falling, but adrenaline wasn’t the only hormone to stir her and she felt an extra throb in proximity to her tender bottom.

At the end of the semester she might need other accommodations, she knew now that any pretence of an exit before then was doomed. She knew too that she might even see out the year, assuming of course that her bottom didn’t fall off. She winced and her hand stole to her behind for a quick rub.

But what then, a lonely rental in town while she tried to make new friends, for some reason she thought of the Heavers and their current lodger? As she mused she broke off to reach for some cold cream on her bedside and grabbed a great handful.

Still face down on the bed, her buttocks slid smoothly through her hands as she massaged them. The small pain was addictive and with her fingertips and nail ends she teased the bumps and welts she found there. With more cream she extended her caress to deeper places as she moaned.

“I wonder if there are any other traditional families in town looking for a lodger?” she croaked in attempt to distract herself from what she was doing.

But as she found her wet place she thought of Paul Heaver and the spankings she had witnessed; tame compared to Mrs Main’ handling of her, perhaps almost fun.

Two freshman girls in the hallway nearby heard a guttural as if someone was trying to supress some pain. They grinned.

“Someone must be having a little talk with Mrs Main,” the blonde giggled.

“A long talk,” the brunette said ruefully, her own bottom clenching as her hands found it. Some memories were too recent to be amusing.

Paul Heaver yawned and stretched as he entered the kitchen. It had been a long day and he was in no mood for even the tiniest of domestic crises. Then he remembered that Prudence had been late with the rent again and he sighed. He might have tackled it that morning before work but the kitchen had looked like it had played host to a teenage beach party and he knew that the ‘should know better’ 29-year-old prep-school teacher was the cause. He didn’t need an argument about the mess complicating things with the rent issue. Now with the kitchen restored to order Paul decided that confronting Prudence couldn’t wait.

The wet splat grabbed his attention and he frowned. There were two more such taps on the floor before he identified the source. Water was dripping at a steady rate from an overfilled sink setting a river towards the basement door.

“Jesus,” Paul groaned as he leapt to screw off the taps and open the plug.

There was some noise from upstairs and as Mindy and Bridget were out that left exactly one culprit. Paul set his jaw and advanced up the stairs as if storming a castle. Prudence was singing in the shower, but he didn’t exactly need to hear her. Scattered at intervals along the landing were items of discarded clothing, which like breadcrumbs led to the guilty one.

Paul might have waited until the ablutions were accomplished but the trail led to a wide open door and Prudence carelessly naked under the shower with her rendition of Born in the USA in mid verse. Her chestnut hair looked darker under the flow of water but his eyes strayed to her long elegant curves and the cleft of her rather full bottom and he was distracted. Then he remembered his anger.

“How old are you?” he barked suddenly, remembering too the mess she had made in the kitchen that morning.

Prudence jumped and whirled around in confusion while her hands fluttered indecisively at what she should cover. “Paul, get out,” she shrieked.

“You left the door open,” he accused, but he half turned away, tossing her a bath towel as he did so.

Prudence shut off the shower and wrapped herself up hastily before confronting him.

“What do you think you are doing?” she gasped, still fumbling with the limited veil and hugging the cloth to her breasts.

Paul made a significant glance at the trail of clothes and then glared as he asked, “Did you have something in the sink?”

Prudence made great O’s of her eyes and mouth and jerked if she was in a hurry before remembering her predicament.

“Don’t worry I turned it off,” he told her. “But what’s all this?” he waved at the clothes.

“I d-didn’t think anyone would be home…” she spluttered, “Anyway, go away.”

Paul folded his arms and became an unmoveable rock in the bathroom doorway. It was a gesture Prudence knew well and she gulped. What else had she done, she wondered nervously?

“When you moved in here…” he began sharply fixing his lodger with stern eyes.

“Oh shit, the rent,” Prudence gasped as she remembered.

“What did I say last time you were late paying?” he continued.

“Now Paul, come on,” she bobbed up and down nervously tugging at the short impromptu hem of her towel barely covering her thigh tops.

“And the kitchen… both this morning and just now?” he added sharply.

“I…” Prudence worked her mouth, desperately pondering which of her crimes she should explain first. But all explanations seemed to dry up as Paul reached for the heavy wooden bath brush with is right hand and used it to pat his left.

“P-Paul… please I’ll pay you… you know I will and… and…” Prudence swallowed.

“This is not about the money is it?” Paul growled snapping the brush down on his palm.

Prudence gaped at him for a moment and then with a determined glare she bolted past him and made for the open door. Paul snatched at her as she passed but only succeeded in grabbing a handful of towel, which came away in his hand.

Despite the threat to her behind Prudence squealed in something like delight as she made a naked dash onto the landing. However, in her haste she made a wrong turn and instead of the door to her room she was confronted with the top of the stairs and an irritated Paul standing in the way of her imagined haven.

“Come on, you can’t do this,” she wailed as she stood half bent over and guarding her breasts from his gaze.

“Hmmm,” he sighed angrily, “You so have a spanking coming.”

Prudence’s eyes widened and at his approach she wheeled around and dashed down the stairs.

“You are only making this worse,” Paul warned as he jogged after her.

A blushing Prudence suddenly realised her limited options and wondered briefly if she should grab her coat and make for the street. But that was as hopeless as it was futile and instead Paul found her backed into the corner by the front door still stumbling at a crouch in a vain attempt to hide her nudity.

Paul snorted in amusement and armed with the brush sat on a hall chair. Then he gestured to her to join him.

“At least let me get dressed in something,” she protested.

“Later,” he growled as he pointed sharply at the floor by his knee.

Prudence’s mouth was a hard line and she made bird-like steps as she reluctantly inched forward. “I’m naked,” she said miserably.

“You should have thought of that,” Paul told her as he tumbled her face down across his lap.

Although her wet bottom was bare to his gaze; at least that was something he had seen before.

“What if someone comes?” she said suddenly as he patted her behind.

“What if someone does?” Paul said sternly.

The brush stung her hard and she gaped soundlessly as the burn took hold. But three more of the same made her yell loud enough to compete with the wet splat of impact.

“Paul, please,” she squealed breathily, and kicked her bare legs scissor-style, “Yah-oooh-ummmh,” she added in an incoherent groan.

Paul noted that her bare bottom was marred with a bright red stain across the whole of her right buttock and much of her left. There was sharp demarcation between the smooth white and the mottled gooseflesh that made it look sore.

“The money isn’t the issue,” Paul scolded her, “But the disrespect is…” he spanked her again.

“Hmmm,” Prudence groaned, panting heavily as he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“What was that?” he barked.

“I’m… ahh… sorry,” she yelped through bitten lips.

“We’ll see about that,” he said fiercely as he worked up to a fresh volley on her vulnerable bucking behind.

The brush challenged her right where she lived and right where she had once hoped to sit. Splat after swat had dried her bottom but the spanking showed no sign of slowing.

Prudence tried not to bawl like a kid, but her breathing was harsh now and open tears spilled from her eyes.

“No more mess, no more disrespect, and tomorrow you come to me with a cheque or a hairbrush: no arguments,” Paul told her sternly.

Prudence fixed her gaze on the floor and tried to remember if she could manage to pay that soon. She hoped to heaven and hell that she could, because she didn’t think Paul was messing now.

“Oaky, okay,” she agreed miserably.

“Now before you go to the corner you can clear up that mess in the kitchen and those damn clothes upstairs… you have five minutes,” he snarled as he set her one her feet.

Prudence danced a pogo with her hands glued to her bottom, heedless that as she bobbed up and down her breast swung freely and her pubic triangle was on full display.

“Here,” Paul said handing her his sweater and averting his gaze.

“Thanks,” she sniffed as at last the sting abated enough for her to function and she was able to take it.

The grey mohair was too short to serve as a skirt and her cherry behind glowed as it peeked from under the hem, but at least she wasn’t cold and there was enough give in front to cover some of her shame.

Five minutes later a very sorry 29-year-old teacher trotted to the corner and faced the wall.

“Hands on head, I think,” Paul ordered.

“Yes Sir,” she agreed sullenly as she obeyed.

Forty minutes later Prudence was still in the corner when Bridget arrived. All that she needed now was Mindy to come home with some college friends, oh brother it was going to be a long evening, a very miserable Prudence thought bitterly.

*

Prudence Trencher took slow careful steps as she went up the hall to her class. She had seen many students at Abraham Heights Preparatory School after a paddling and it was almost impossible to hide even the next day. She earnestly prayed that she was doing a better job than some of her students.

It had amused her in the past to cast an eye over her students and notice who sat down just a hint too carefully and who winced as behinds made contact with the chair, in Abraham Heights there was never any shortage of 18-year-old girls who displayed such battle scars from some kind of domestic confrontation or other. Prudence had just never figured on it being her. Boy, bath brushes hurt, she thought as an uneven step caused a flare in her bottom.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t been spanked at the Heaver’s before, but never so vigorously when she had had class the next day. It was a hell she would accept so long as no one guessed.

The school was an old one with exposed brick and a layout that wouldn’t have been out of place in the 1950s. To her right was a line of lockers and everywhere students darted around in haste calling out to one another as they clattered open doors to retrieve or deposit books and other educational accessories.

Luckily in this crowd no one gave her so much as a glance and she figured she might just make it to her classroom unnoticed.

But that was before an earnest voice said, “Ms Trencher,” and Prudence turned to confront a very eager and somewhat nervous looking Teri Farley.

Teri was old-school popular blonde and way too fond of herself; at 18 the girl thought she was entirely too cool for school. Usually she spoke to everyone with an aloof disdain, even her teachers. Prudence was now puzzled by the change of attitude.

“What is it Teri?” Prudence asked. She could see two others from Teri’s crowd standing nervously behind her and only then did she notice that they were outside the principal’s office and she made the connection.

The sound of a paddle swat from inside told its own punitive tale.

“I was just wondering if you remembered… you know… that I had an extension on my essay?” a wide-eyed Terri pressed her.

“Your essay, the one due today?” the teacher asked puzzled.

Terri nodded and offered a pensive close-mouth smile.

“I don’t remember granting an extension, haven’t you done it?” Prudence asked.

Terri looked suddenly panicked and shot a glance back over her shoulder. At that moment there was a heavy crack followed by a girlish yelp. Prudence let her mouth play with a smirk at the unmistakable sound of paddle meeting bare girl flesh. Things were becoming clear. The principal rarely gave less than eight and would occasionally take it to double that with more regular visits to 12 on the way there. Another two swats quickly followed, both with accompanying yells.

“I have to see the principal,” Terri told Prudence nervously, “He is bound to ask if I have any outstanding issues with teachers… you know he checks… I just thought…” Another paddle crack made the girl jump. “…you know, if he sends you one of those slips… eh… after then you could maybe say there were no outstanding issues.”

“Well if you hand in your essay during class as you are supposed to then so far as I am concerned there aren’t,” Prudence said cheerfully.

The next crack was harder and the pained grunt that followed told a tale of some serious soul-searching.

“But I just told you,” Terri blurted, some of her usual attitude returning. But the haughty sneer faded at another thwack from within.

“I’ll sign the note appropriately,” Prudence told her and made to move on.

The principal’s office door opened and before it fully closed again she saw a rather woeful fourth member of Terri’s gang dancing much as Prudence had done the previous evening. A male voice barked, “Next girl.”

“Good luck,” Prudence said to Terri with a smile.

The girl visibly gulped, her face etched in something not dissimilar to terror.

*

Standing in front of the class for any length of time provoked Prudence’s bottom to throb some and she desperately hoped that none of the pain was reflected in her voice. Not that sitting down any kind of alternative option.

“Now who can tell me what the importance of Latin is to world and European history?” she addressed the room with a strained voice.

The senior class looked bored and Prudence wondered just how many of them felt tender where they sat as she did. In the past she had noted which of the girls sat too carefully and which looked sorry for themselves, sometimes it was so obvious who had suffered a recent spanking and today that thought troubled her.

She scanned the faces in front of her for any knowing glances or smirks. But suddenly all eyes swivelled to the door, which had opened.

Terri Farley slipped a head around the door and stole an uncharacteristic meek glance at the room. Her blonde tresses were less than composed and although her make-up had been recently reapplied, it was plain to see that her eyes were bloodshed as if she had been crying. Biting her lip, Terri took a slow careful step into the room followed by two of her equally dishevelled posse as they attempted to creep in without drawing attention.

“So glad you could join us,” Prudence said tartly, “We were discussing the importance of Latin.”

“Sorry Miss Trencher,” Lucy Womack offered, she was a vivid redhead who always seemed out of place as one of Terri’s compatriots, “We were…” she made to swallow shyly and blushed heavily.

“Yes, yes,” Prudence said impatiently, “Just sit down quickly.”

“If you can,” one of her classmates quipped and there was a sudden rush of general laughter.

Without meeting anyone’s eyes the third girl of the troop, a thin mousey girl called… Sandy, Prudence remembered, walked hastily forward and handed her the girls’ discipline slips. Prudence turned them over quickly and noted a place for notes next to her signature. It was her professional duty to report lateness or missed deadlines.

If she had been a real bitch she could legitimately interpret the three girls’ late arrival to this class as a tardy; no doubt incurring them a few extra swats after school, but she would let that pass. In any case, she already knew that Terri Farley had no essay and Prudence saw no particular reason to grant a retrospective extension; poor Terri.

Heedless of her future doom Terri lowered herself casually into her seat as if onto a throne and only a slight flicker of her right eye betrayed any discomfort. Sandy and Lucy offered no such subterfuge and both winced openly as they allowed bottoms to reluctantly touch their seats.

So far no one even suspected what Terri and the girls have in common with… Prudence allowed the beginnings of a thought, but then she saw Sarah Coulter watching her and accidentally caught her eye. The girl looked her over with an appraising gaze that paused significantly in the general area of Prudence’s bottom, and then Sarah allowed a half smirk to twist on her lips.

Prudence stuttered mid-sentence and blushed to the hilt. Please, please don’t let her be a tattletale, she prayed silently.

*

Karen Garland was giving Roland Archer the usual trouble. Not only had she not managed her essay again, but her mother had not yet picked her up. The professor struggled to remember a time when the woman had ever been punctual.

He cast an eye over Karen in the corner and then back to the clock. He sighed. Karen who herself had been late today had tried her hand at a childish lie before admitting she had not done the work. Consequently the 90 minute study period had not been spent on her history essay, but on teaching her the error of her ways.

A good sound spanking had rendered her bare bottom a decent strawberry red and then he had resorted to his trusty cane; the thin bitter one that his students so despised.

Karen stood meekly now, her skirt folded neatly on the chair and her panties in a puddle at her ankles. Her tender bottom jutted out proudly into the room and she wriggled and sniffed while she kept a sorry vigil awaiting her mother.

The spanking had only gotten her attention. In addition, 12 sharp lines scored her behind for the tardy and 15 more had been added for telling lies. The essay, the third failure in as many weeks, required three dozen as per a previous warning, but 63 strokes seemed excessive even for this reprobate. Although Professor Archer had no doubt that Karen’s mother would have supported such a sanction.

In the end, given that they had a full 90 minutes to contend with, Roland had handed out only 18 of the promised 36 on top of the 27; a thrashing that had been distressing in the extreme even halfway through the count of 35. Next time now even a blameless and punctual Karen would face 18 strokes before Archer even looked at her essay.

Just then the door rattled impatiently before settling on a decisive knock. One, two, three… Roland counted under his breath before opening the door.

“Mrs Garland, nothing too serious I hope,” he said pointedly by way of reference to the woman’s tardiness. He could definitely see where Karen got her lateness habit from.

“I had a meeting and…” Louise Garland began, but her voice sounded too whiney, even too her and she quickly reverted to, “I am so sorry, whatever must you think.”

Louise Garland was 40, but did her best to portray the smart business woman image, and with some success, but as a single parent, time never stood still.

Karen’s mother struggled to rein in her breathing, she had run all the way from the car and several strands of her mid-brown hair had escaped the neat package piled onto her head.

“Mrs Garland,” Roland said indulgently, “Your daughter is a college student and although she lives at home… couldn’t she make her own way to your house instead of…?” His eye rolled significantly to Karen still embarrassingly debagged in the corner.

“Oh no,” Louise pulled a face, “What did she do now?”

“She was late for one thing,” Archer said pointedly and waited for that to sink in.

Louise winced.

“She hadn’t done her essay again, for another,” Roland sighed, “Then she tried to tell me that you had told her our meeting was cancelled and that you had rescheduled for Friday…”

“Oh Karen,” her mother snapped angrily. “Just you wait until… get dressed, we have wasted enough of Professor Archer’s time as it is.”

“Not at all,” Roland said magnanimously, after all he was still going to be paid. “Tempus fugit,” he gratifyingly observed.

Karen dipped to a bend and hastily pulled up her panties before retrieving her skirt. “Thank you Professor Archer,” she said girlishly, adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Wait for me in the car,” her mother barked as she stood back from the still open door. “I want a word with your tutor.”

Roland and Louise waited until Karen had hastened to obey and then her mother closed the door.

“Something wrong?” the professor asked his client.

“That depends on how you look at it,” Louise said carefully as if weighing something up. “Not with your work certainly and any problem with Karen I leave to you to sort out.”

“So…?” Roland gestured puzzlement with his hands.

“I was wondering if you…” Louise sighed, “What I am trying to say is that there are other problems other than academic ones aren’t there?”

“You mean tardiness, for instance?” Roland suggested archly.

“Well quite,” Louise Garland agreed, “And I don’t only mean Karen’s.”

“Indeed,” Roland said quizzically. An idea of where this was going danced at the back of his head.

Louise didn’t meet his eyes and looked down. “What is the oldest student you help?”

For the moment Roland couldn’t remember so he said, “I have grad students and college late-comers…”

“Do you only handle… academic deficiencies? I mean what about behavioural issues?” Louise, looked hard right as if talking to someone else, licking her lips nervously as she did so.

“It has been known,” Roland said in a neutral voice.

“How would you handle a 40-year-old business woman and single mother for instance? One who had issues with keeping organised and her time keeping?” Louise asked as nonchalantly as she could.

Roland laughed. “Not at all unless she was a client of mine, and for that my rates are the same.”

“Can I make an appointment to discuss it?” Louise asked coyly.

“Naturally,” Roland said reassuringly.

“Then, I think, perhaps we are on the same page,” Louise said, finally meeting his eyes and willing him to understand without further questions.

“What page is that?” Roland asked innocently.

Louise blushed and made a pout before muttering “Despite appearances, you have made great strides in improving my daughter. However… I don’t think I am a particularly good example to her…”

“Oh, I see. I had assumed that the 40-year-old business woman was a hypothetical person,” Roland said mischievously, “Are you talking about yourself?”

“I think you know damn well I am,” Louise said sullenly. This was too humiliating, why had she even thought…?

“Careful Mrs Garland, I don’t tolerate insolence,” Roland warned.

Louise wilted and made an involuntary lower lip bite. “Sorry, but this is a bit embarrassing,” she said. “Do you think you can help me?”

“You do know my methods?” Roland’s eyes narrowed.

Louise Garland nodded slowly and blushed.

“I mean I am assuming that you can help structure my life and guide me in time management and my organisational skills…?” It sounded like backpedalling even to Louise.

“Oh I am sure I can make one or two suggestions in that regard but my real forte is in providing incentives,” Roland chuckled, “I make absolutely no distinction between any of my students.”

“Oh God,” Louise sighed, was she really going to do this?

“Why don’t you come on Friday? Say 7.00pm?” Roland suggested. “We will treat it like a first consult and we can discuss requirements and ground rules. I have a few ideas for structure and how to proceed.”

“That sounds fine,” Louise said, the business-like language was a more comfortable footing for her. “I’ll see you then.”

Roland stepped forward and opened the front door to see her out. “Oh and Mrs Garland,” he said pointedly, “Don’t be late.”

Louise gulped gently, barely acknowledging the warning.

Freya Guinness looked at the clock with misery hanging on her face. She already wished her shift was over and the shift had barely begun. It looked like her day at the Horn Street Coffee Shop was getting up to be one of those where she wasn’t be rushed off her feet, but she wasn’t quite going to be left alone.

So far she had just two customers, one of her regulars, Donna Warren, the college professor and a rather sorry looking sorority girl standing at the window counter who had so obviously been recently very soundly spanked.

She couldn’t even relieve the boredom by gloating over the girl’s punitive fate, not under the circumstances. Reaching for a cup on the lower shelf she winced as her bottom flared. At least she didn’t have to sit down any time soon, now that would be embarrassing.

The night before Freya had borrowed her mom’s car on the understanding that she would fill-up with gas and have it back home by 10 o’clock. Well 10 had come and gone before she even noticed the time and she had barely gotten to within 50 minutes of home, in the wrong direction yet after meeting some guy, when she realised it was nearly midnight.

To make matters infinitely worse before she had a chance to call, the darn car had stuttered to a stop after finally refusing to run on fumes.

When her Dad had rolled up just after one o’clock, the fact that he was pissed at her was written like bloody doom on his face.

“Hey Dad,” Freya had offered nervously as she gave him a forlorn wave.

“You know it will be two and gone by the time we get to bed,” he sighed as he reached for the gas can in the trunk. “I have work tomorrow, what are you doing out here?”

Freya’s younger sister Dakota would have told an elaborate lie at this point and wouldn’t have quit until she had thoroughly dug a grave for her tender behind. At 18, Freya would have done much the same, but these days she knew better than to keep digging and a girl’s posterioral health was better served by the truth.

“Some guy,” Freya said sourly, “You know how it is? I kind of forgot the time.”

“It is not all you forgot is it?” John Guinness said, making a finger push as he nodded to her dash.

“Oh yah,” Freya replied reaching down and hitting the gas release button. “I’m sorry, I forgot the gas too.”

John glared at her and then pointed looked at his watch. “I guess that isn’t going to be an issue for the next couple of weeks,” he said.

“I’m grounded aren’t I?” Freya said through wince-dancing lips.

John nodded and shrugged. “Two weeks,” he sighed, and then he reached down and began unscrewing the gas cap.

“You gonna spank me?” she asked uncomfortably as she took up a nervous stance and unconsciously handled the seat of her pants.

“Oh yeah,” her father said as if she had asked something dumb.

“I guess I got it coming,” Freya agreed ruefully as hot blood drowned her pale face.

The spanking had been deferred to the morning and Freya had had to get up before six to stand in just her T-shirt facing the wall in the kitchen so as to be waiting for John to get up.

It was an old sanction and designed to put her on tenterhooks for half an hour as she waited. Oftentimes her father would then defer the spanking until the evening and prolong the agony, which would have been a fair choice seeing as she had caused him to get to bed so late.

“What time do you have to be at work today?” her father asked as he strolled into the kitchen to snort at her exposed and waiting bottom.

Freya coloured, it was only her Dad, but she couldn’t help it. “Not until 10.30,” she admitted.

John Guinness nodded and pulled a chair out from the table with a scrape. There was a clatter too of the short hardwood paddle landing on the countertop.

Freya gulped.

“I got 10 or 15 minutes to spare so we might as well get this over with,” her father said in his weary voice. “Then you can go back to where you are until everyone leaves the house, or 10 o’clock, whichever comes around sooner.”

“But it’s…” Freya baulked and shot her gaze at the clock. It was a little after 7.30 and she had already suffered nearly an hour of bare-bottomed corner time.

“It is what? You were quick enough to waste my time last night and your mom is still pissed at you for leaving her without a car. No I think and intimate consideration of the passing of minutes will be fitting don’t you?” John scolded her.

“Yes Dad,” Freya nodded and sucked in some bitter air. She couldn’t really deny that it was fair.

Freya was shaken from her tender memory by a customer.

“You got any pie?” the old woman croaked as if a negative answer might be the gravest of insults.

“Yes Ma’am,” Freya replied pleasantly before rattling off a list of options.

*

Charlie Lain had opted for standing at the window counter of the Horn Street Coffee Shop. Despite the embarrassment, sitting down on one of the high stools was completely out of the question, but at least the shop was almost deserted.

Until the old woman had come in, the only other person apart from the girl serving was a dark-haired woman Charlie had seen around campus, although the woman seemed too self-absorbed to take any notice of the sorority girl’s discomfort. Nevertheless, the waitress had given Charlie a smile that hung somewhere between sympathy and a knowing smirk.

The previous evening had been housekeeping when all the pledges had to account for any reported or presumed infractions of the sorority’s many, many rules.

Davina Davies was an expert in sniffing out the latter and a small failure to fess up to some minor out of bounds infractions had led to some major paddle action all over Charlie’s bare behind.

“I want you kneeling on that bed,” Davina had drawled, “And get that butt right up… no I said right up… what the f… get those PJs down first, what do you think this is, a slumber party?”

“But the door is open,” Charlie had wailed.

“Well it is all girls together; don’t you want to help educate your fellow students?” Davina had teased.

“But…” Charlie squeaked.

“Get it up and paddle ripe and I want to see those elbows square to the mattress and resting on your knees,” Davina snarled.

The posture had been humiliating and not to say uncomfortable, but Charlie couldn’t deny that her bottom was more than adequately presented for the paddle. She would remember that one day, when her own turn came.

“Sorority tradition calls for three swats for each infraction, but I am going to assume you ducked out on at least as much as you got caught for, so how many is that?” Davina asked innocently.

Charlie smelt a trap, but all she could do was spring it. A clever self-effacing answer would get her extra for a smart mouth, minimising her fault would get her extra too. She was up for… four infractions so if Davina was assuming double, which was a total crock… then she faced two dozen. Charlie winced.

“Twenty four, Ma’am,” Charlie offered hesitantly.

Davina licked her lips like a cat with a veritable bucket of cream.

“I’ll take that as a confession, but you are forgetting the extra swats for not fessing up,” she drawled.

“But…” Charlie gasped.

“And three swats for not owning up to it now,” Davina added.

“But you said… I didn’t, really I didn’t,” Charlie wailed.

“So were you lying when you confessed or are you lying now?” Davina asked casually.

Lying was a big no-no and Charlie suddenly felt trapped.

“Dumb insolence is it,” Davina said sharply. “You can take 30 now and we will add the rest on next week, aren’t I kind? How many hold overs is that?”

“Six,” Charlie said meekly.

“No, it is double for lying so it would have been nine, but now that is 12 with an extra three for the favour of delaying your correction,” Davina said gleefully.

“But… oooh,” Charlie groaned.

“What do you say?” Davina asked coaxingly.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Charlie said with a pout.

“And yes you can, right after you count them off,” Davina said as she patted the bottom hard enough with the paddle to make it sting. “Ready?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Charlie sighed.

The paddle thwack was a terror and Charlie yelped. She didn’t need to turn her head to know a wide-eyed freshman gaping at her from the open door.

“One thank you Ma’am,” Charlie said miserably.

By the fifth acknowledgement there was a small gathering of grinning and horrified innocents gawping at her misery.

“Five,” Charlie shrieked, and then sniffing back tears added, “thank you, Ma’am,” as she descended into sobs. Nor had the next 25 swats so lovingly and slowly applied been any easier to bear.

Now the tight lobes of her bottom ached under a sheen of persistent soreness, it was way too tender at the point where her skin touched her cotton panties. But at least she had managed to put some on, that had been completely out the day before.

The worst part was that she already faced another 15 in less than a week on top of any other sanction she had yet to earn; and earn them she would, she thought ruefully.

*

Donna’s Warren’s bottom settled uneasily on the hard plastic coffee shop chair, it especially chaffed at the tight tender bud between her two tender curves. But at least she could now just about sit down. That was more than could be said for the thoroughly morose sorority girl standing at the window shelf that Donna pretended not to notice. Oh to have been a fly on the wall when she tasted the paddle, Donna thought, but her enthusiasm was curbed somewhat by her own troubles.

Her latest run-in with Mrs Main was hardly the worst she had had but it was certainly… instructive. Donna pouted and took another sip of her coffee. The recent memory was crowded out by another from just a few weeks before.

“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” Mrs Main had then asked. At the time it was a subject which Donna was wholly ignorant.

Donna had gaped at the question and she had quailed to the tips of her toes. If she were honest she had known that this day might come and she had been a little curious, but contemplating the reality had been too… too much to comprehend and all the scenarios in her head had been played out with other girls during her intimate moments alone.

The question on that day had come after a particularly prolonged spanking while across Mrs Main’s knee. As usual despite all attempts to tough it out and preserve some pride and dignity she had nevertheless bawled like a teen.

In her fevered youth she had seen some spiked running shoes and concocted elaborate and unlikely fantasies about getting a spanking with such a thing. Her teen years had been driven by such dark punishments, and it was a secret desire she had never entirely shaken off. But the spanking that day from such a simple thing as Mrs Main’s hairbrush had rivalled all her worst expectations.

First, as always, came the tummy churning inevitability of the spanking. Second was the feeling of utter helplessness, there was a kind of liberty in being humbled like that she could never explain. The third emotion was entirely different and was the perfect moment of humility, freedom from choice combined with utter helplessness, that short time when she was scolded just before the first spank forming an emotional state all on its own. Then the spanking rendered all introspection as nothing, as her world became bottom, hairbrush and Mrs Main.

Donna remembered, and at the same time couldn’t remember the relentless sting that built up and up until it was all she could comprehend. The pain described every curve of her flesh and until she thought that it would never ever end; and then it did. Or at least the physical assault did. The burn throbbed on as Mrs Main renewed the verbal emotional tirade. The one where words were unimportant and just the tone offered some balm.

But all this was underpinned by dread. Donna knew the spanking was not over and that the housemother was only waiting for the sting to become bearable again so that she could build upon it again.

“Please, I’ll be good, I’m sorry,” Donna might have babbled, she couldn’t recall, such shame now blotted form her mind. Then she did remember and her face melted.

“What if your students could see this?” Mrs Main had said sharply, “You wouldn’t be so high and mighty then, would you? You think it couldn’t happen? You are not the first 20-something or even 30-something I have put in her place.”

In that moment Donna had never felt so humbled, but worse was yet to come.

“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” moments before Donna had fled from the memory of what had happened next and had taken refuge in her spanking. Now she hid her face as she furtively looked around, certain now that everyone in the coffee shop knew she was still punished so dreadfully.

Mrs Main had stripped Donna naked and put her on her knees in the bath. Her bottom had still burned and while the housemother had fussed with something the teacher didn’t dare contemplate, Donna had cupped her bottom cheeks and marvelled at the hot leathery texture she heft in both hands.

“Bend over it then and reach back under the tray,” the housemother had ordered.

Donna had frowned for a second, not daring to let her mind dwell on what was happening. In front of her across the bath was a removable stainless steel cage serving as a tray to hold any required soaps or rubber ducks; her parents had one, she remembered. Only this one was sturdier and had plasticised padding on the middle portion which might have been a seat for the convenience of leg shaving or…

“Yes that, bend over it and get your bottom right up,” Mrs Main scolded.

Donna blinked and then dumbly looked at the housemother. On the bathroom counter behind her was a small bucket, a hot water bottle thing, some rubber tubing and a funnel.

“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” Mrs Main had previously asked her, the words still reverberating as they always would.

Donna was halfway to obeying when she finally grasped her fate and she gasped.

“I hope you feel thoroughly ashamed of yourself,” Mrs Main sighed.

“But I haven’t done anything,” Donna wailed.

“Haven’t… don’t you realise that since we have been having these Saturday session you haven’t been out late once and have been quite the model tenant here,” the housemother said as she shook her head.

Donna started and hastily tried to recall… all those mishaps that she swore were not her fault, or all that confrontation when all she had to do was been in on time… Donna blushed as comprehension, which had been a long time coming finally landed.

Sitting in the coffee shop Donna blanched white for a second and then hot blood surge through her in a flush to end all blushes.

Freya did a double take as she looked at the older woman and nearly asked if something was wrong. What’s eating her? The waitress openly stared.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that the woman was on faculty Freya could have sworn she was looking at a post-paddled sorority girl. For one thing, she knew the look; Freya even saw it in the mirror sometimes.

No, there was no doubt about it, Dr Donna Warren, a woman nearer 30 than college-age had definitely got her tail paddled, and recently. Freya smirked. She now felt a whole lot better about her run in with her Dad.

I think I know I always have it coming, she ruefully decided, but now I know I am not alone now I can hardly claim to be too old for a spanking.

Donna swallowed hard as she recalled that recent and mortifying Saturday, now she understood something. She caught the waitress staring and hastily fussed with the spoon in her cup and ducked her head.

That day she had been naked in the bath and bottom very definitely and embarrassingly up. When Mrs Main had thumbed a healthy scoop of Vaseline onto her tiny nether bud she had gasped; if it had been possibly to literally die of shame, then she would have done so, but there had been no such luck.

The housemother had been generous in her application of the petroleum gunk, even letting her thumb ease inside a little. Then she had felt something sterner and altogether larger.

“Oh Jesus,” Donna had squealed, “What the… what are you doing?”

“The thermometer will make sure you aren’t sick,” Mrs Main told her seriously, “But since it was designed for horses it will push the lubricant deeper in for you.”

“Noooo don’t,” Donna wailed as her jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Think yourself lucky young lady, in my day the only easing came via carbolic and that can really make your eyes water, as one day I will show you. But I know this is a first for you so…” Mrs Main sounded almost maternal.

“B-but,” Donna didn’t really know what to say.

“When I was in your position, my housemother usually had three or four of us in a row for this. The bathrooms weren’t so private either and a senior girl was often drafted to supervise while we waited for… well, whatever came next,” Mrs Main chuckled, “You really have no idea how Spartan college life was in Abraham Heights some 20-odd years ago.”

“B-b-but, but, but,” Donna muttered, suddenly overwhelmed by the strange sensations.

“A little deeper I think,” the house mother said cheerfully.

Donna lunged forward as she groaned.

“Listen… I don’t… I can’t… you can’t do this,” Donna spluttered, sure now that she would die.

“What was that?” Mrs Main asked sharply.

“I mean… I know I said…” Donna forced the words out through a clamped jaw.

“Do we have to go back to the days when you had to go across my knee for every little rebellion?” the housemother scolded.

N-no, I just…”

“I am so glad to hear it,” Mrs Main sighed and then to Donna’s relief tugged the large glass tube free of the young woman’s bottom hole.

Donna collapsed onto her elbows and sagged into panting confusion. At least it was over, never had she felt so… exposed? Her train of thought was interrupted by a startle as something bigger pressed her intimate bud.

“This is one of my smaller funnels,” the housemother said soothingly, “Think yourself lucky I am not using a plunger.”

The tightness gave way to painful stretching and Donna belt her eyes bug in her head.

“The nozzle is only about five inches on this one and there is a narrowing to help hold it near the flared part,” Mrs Main explained as she let the funnel settle in a position so that it protruded from Donna’s bottom.

“It won’t… it won’t… it’s slipping,” Donna wailed.

“Just a moment,” came the reply. Then a splash of water turned to a flood.

The sensation was intense, the molten assault was almost too hot and touched her deeper than anything ever, ever had. It was even more intimate than sex and in another arena… but then Donna felt the pressure.

“Th-that’s enough,” Donna gasped.

“Nonsense, this is only the start, just a quick primer if you like,” Mrs Main talked slow like she was concentrating.

“N-no, no really… this is… ahhh, please I… I can’t…” Donna’s groan might have been heard up the hall and she had to clench her mouth tight.

“Now hold that,” Mrs Main said at last as she reached for a watch.

Three times Mrs Main let Donna empty herself before a longer fuller refill and three times Donna cried like a little girl and promised to be good.

For the second enema the housemother employed a bigger funnel, which was way big enough. She had to hold it longer too. But nothing prepared her for the third intrusion.

The hose was almost as big as a gardener’s and filled Donna like a snake. The other end was attached to a rubber bag which Mrs Main hung from the shower rail.

“This one has something interesting in among the soap and water you will find…” the housemother began.

“Oh… ah, nnngh, oh my God,” Donna groaned.

“Oh I see you have found that out,” the older woman chuckled, “Now I am going to leave you with that one for a while.”

The next long while had been torment enough, but then Mrs Main had introduced her to an old sorority trick.

“I think that’s enough of that for now, I bet you have never been so thoroughly cleansed,” the housemother chuckled.

“No Ma’am,” Donna said as she collapsed with relief.

All the same she was still bottom up in a very humiliating position.

“Now in my sorority days pledges had to go smooth, you know down there and just to makes sure us precious little brats, and we were, got the message there was a way of making sure you knew the rules,” Mrs Main began.

Donna sagged, apprehensive now about what was coming.

“In my day we used a candle, for… all kinds of things, but young women are so liberated today. I confiscated this off of one of my girls,” the older woman said disapprovingly. “It’s not too big, it should fit.”

Donna looked back in horror, “fit?” what was she doing? Then she saw the pink vibrator in the housemother’s hand.

“Don’t worry, no batteries, and strangely the girl who had this swore she didn’t need it anymore, well once I paddled her three ways from Sunday,” Mrs Main gave Donna an evil grin. Then pressing the pink plastic to Donna’s bottom she pressed it gently home. “I already soaped it, it should… there,” she added.

“Oh God,” Donna gasped. She was just wondering what the tweezers were for when Mrs Main explained.

“Now I am going to…” the housemother’s words were interrupted by a wholesome scream from Donna, “…Pluck these hairs for you. One by one until I get bored, just as we did in the old days. You’ll never forget this and I intend that you shouldn’t”

“Oh come on… ouch,” Donna gasped, but she was still more worried about the tight fit in her bottom, for some reason she hated that it slipped a little like she might expel it. Surely that was a good thing? But it was unsettling all the same. The she shrieked again.

“Until you get bored?” Donna asked anxiously.

“Yes, sorry about that, but this would take for ever and I only need 15 or 20 minutes to make a point. Memorable no, especially when I take them from… here?”

The sharp tug was right at the bud and Donna squealed before groaning for several moments.

“You get it, don’t you? I mean, you will never forget this day and that is the whole point,” Mrs Main said kindly.

“But… but…” Donna sniffed, struggling now not to cry.

“Now, now, I’ll shave you close when I am done, that way the memory will last,” Mrs Main smiled. “Save your tears for another spanking afterwards, I may even cane you.”

Donna gaped.

“I know, you can thank me another time,” the housemother said with a wink.

Donna shifted on her seat, still conscious of the fresh bristle grown down below where it hadn’t quite grown back. Freya was no longer looking at her and the sorority girl didn’t seem to notice anything, but she blushed all the same, certain that everyone knew.

“The lady doth protest too much,” she muttered.

“What was that ma’am,” Freya asked brightly.

Donna shook her head and dismissed the enquiry with a smile. Mrs Main was an old hand at this game and she must have seen Donna for what she was from the very start. Okay, I get it now, Donna thought. But the truth was she knew now that she always had, why else had she put up with the housemother’s crazy regime? No not crazy, if it didn’t exist then Donna would have seen it invented, only… only what?

She shifted on the seat again and knew Mrs Main was right, her memories where indelibly fixed now and she had learned. Not that the housemother wouldn’t continue to teach, Donna’s fate was sealed in that regard. No she would have to make other arrangements now that she now knew what they needed to be and she already had a plan.

Louise Garland was late. In fact she was always late, a habit she was fully inculcating her daughter to follow, she thought bitterly. Ever since her divorce some three years before, her new found business talent and freedom had come at a price. Namely, her domestic situation had gone to hell.

She eyed the stop light with irritation as if by pure force of will she could make it change. “Come on, come,” she muttered. A glance to her watch told her she was already two minutes late; if she didn’t get caught at any more lights then she might just get there by five past.

After one more glance at the light she reached for her compact and popped it open for the mirror. Her war paint was more or less intact and she alternately closed each dark brown eye to squint at her liner. Her hair too, a somewhat mediocre mid-brown was immaculately combed and she decided that she could pass muster for business and certainly a meeting with Karen’s tutor, Dr Archer.

Thoughts of the man made her tummy flip and she told herself it was just another business arrangement, nothing more. Someone behind beeped a horn and Louise startled. The light had gone and changed on her unnoticed.

“Okay, okay, you’re not the only one in a hurry pal,” she growled through gritted teeth.

*

As she stepped from the car Louise smoothed down her tight pencil business skirt and checked the hem in back. Then with a final tongue-wipe of her teeth lest she have any stray lipstick on them she tugged once on her jacket and made ready to cross the street to the lion’s den.

“Here goes,” she muttered and gave a huge sigh.

Dr Archer’s front lawn was manicured and featureless apart from an irregular sweep of paving stones that sat flush to the grass as they formed a curved path to the white planked house.

It looked friendly enough, but the door seemed large and uncompromising like that of a high school principle and Louise caught her breath. For some reason the skin on her bottom tightened and she defended it from an unseen assault with a stray right hand.

“It’s just a chat,” she said aloud as she raised a finger to press the bell.

The door took almost 40 seconds to open, which strangely dragged as Louise composed herself. Then the man was there, larger than she remembered and carrying himself with a stern demeanour she did not recall.

Dr Archer regarded her silently for a moment and then offered her his second best formal smile.

“Mrs Garland, and only seven minutes late today,” Roland Archer said without a hint of sarcasm.

“Sorry I was…” Actually she could not remember why she had been delayed today, but Dr Archer was no longer listening anyway and merely ushered her into the hall.

“Life coaching, wasn’t it?” he said as he waved a casual arm towards a brown leather sofa on the far side of his study. “And time management with a view to personal organising?”

“Yes… I mean I am sure my business organising is less than brilliant, but I have a PA for that and…” Louise was gushing.

Archer held up a hand to stop her and reaffirmed that she should sit. Louise’s daughter Karen had sat on the couch many times, when she had been able anyway, but this was a first in his inner sanctum for her mother.

“I won’t expand upon my methods; you are already familiar through my handling of Karen,” Archer began, “However…”

“Well yes, but surely it won’t quite be the same in my…” Louise began.

Again Archer’s arm went up like a traffic cop and she faltered.

“I think we should get something clear at the outset; that is if we mean to go on with this arrangement,” he said, “When I am talking, you are not, is that acceptable?” He smiled with real warmth.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Louise made a face of contrition and sat back.

“Look, I have some consent forms and a contract of sorts; the usual stuff, 28 days’ notice to quit and so on… but let’s cut to the chase. We will agree some clear targets and you will keep a journal outlining your progress and noting failures to meet those targets: for instance lateness, prevarication and that sort of thing. I will help you assess your progress and provide penalties and incentives.” Archer pursed his lips and smiled.

Louise swallowed and flushed some as she took this in. “Sounds fair enough,” she said thickly, suddenly having trouble with a dry mouth.

She knew where this was leading but she struggled with him spelling it out. After all, the plan was that the possible threat to her… her comfort would be enough. It would also salve her conscience about signing off on Archer’s handling of Karen.

“Good,” Archer nodded, “Now tell me your views and experience of corporal punishment.” He sat back and regarded her like an oriental monk.

Louise opened her mouth in shock and then closed it again.

“Really,” she said, “I mean I am in favour and all… but I guess I have much the same experience as anyone else.” Louise shifted uncomfortably.

“When was the last time you got a spanking?” Archer asked bluntly.

Louise blushed. “You mean apart from my ex?”

“Were they discipline spankings?” Archer prodded her.

“Kind of… but not exactly…” Louise returned a stiff smile and squirmed.

“When was your last truly disciplinary spanking?” Archer pressed her.

“Look I don’t know…” Louise began, bristling slightly.

Archer sighed and looked at his watch. “It is relevant,” he said.

Louise blew out a slow breath and then shrugged.

“Okay, I was 22 or 23,” she told him, not meeting his gaze.

“After you married?” the tutor leaned forward.

Louise nodded. “I had just had Karen and things weren’t going so well… After a row at home I left my husband…” she snorted mirthlessly, “…quite literally holding the baby.”

“I went back to my parents,” Louise winced, “But they were less than entirely understanding. My father spanked me, and how.”

Louise made a purse of her lips and shrugged again as she looked away.

“Do you want to expand?”

“No,” Louise muttered, “But I will. I had it coming, I know that. My folks said I wasn’t too old for a good sounding spanking and they were right. Pop made me go out to the washroom out back and take my pants down, just like always. I had to bend across the washer just like always, with my bare butt sticking out. Pop gave me, I don’t know… a good workout anyway, with is belt.”

“Did you cry?”

“Oh yah,” Louise pulled a face. “I couldn’t sit down too well afterwards.”

“How did you feel about it?” Archer had picked up a small book now and had begun making notes.

“Like I said, I definitely had it coming, but it was embarrassing… especially as they had me stand in the corner with my red sore hiney on show… it was kind of a tradition in our house growing up.” Louise let out a long slow breath.

“Was anyone else present?” Archer scribbled something.

“Not that time,” Louise said, expressing a long felt relief, “But back when I lived at home only a year or so before, then yeah, anyone who happened to be there got see me get it and definitely saw me in the corner.”

“Then there was Alec of course,” she sighed. “Sooo embarrassing…”

“Alec?”

“My husband, he came to get me you see,” she smiled ruefully, “I was still in the corner when he arrived.”

“How do you feel about it now? I mean what did you learn from the experience?” Archer sounded kind and matter-of-fact.

Louise felt that this was a key question and she took a breath. Be honest, she decided, after all it was why she had come here and it was a core belief, if not a comfortable one.

“I guess… I guess I learned that a girl is never too old for a good old fashioned bare bottom spanking,” she giggled. “I know it did me good and… and although I didn’t appreciate it at the time I am grateful, even for the embarrassment; I kind of needed taking down a peg or two. That’s where Karen is ahead of the game I suppose.”

“Karen? What is she to do with this?” the tutor asked, he was surprised now.

“Why… she kicks up a storm at the time, especially if I spank her, but she always says sorry and an occasionally thank you afterwards. She thinks the world of you… Dr Archer this and Dr Archer that…” Louise forgot her embarrassment and was gushing again.

Archer laughed and nodded. It was his turn to be embarrassed. “Well I never…” he coughed. “So let’s… eh… let’s talk details and… if you like my programme then we can get to the paperwork and settle the financial arrangements,” he added.

*

Louise sighed and put down the pen. “That all seems… well anyway, thank you Dr Archer I think we have a plan.”

Now that she had gone over it, it all seemed rather workaday. All she had to do was set objectives for herself each day, each week and each month and then discuss with Dr Archer what would help and what might hinder her targets. Swot analysis, he called it. Also she had to write down every time she was late in her little notebook and say why she had been late.

“There is just one other thing now,” Archer said as he cast a final eye over the papers and put them in the out tray on his desk for filing.

“Oh yes,” Louise said pleasantly.

“A small matter of you being late here today,” Archer said sharply. His eyes were severe and appraising and Louise could see why Karen was often apprehensive about her sessions with him.

“Yes I am sorry about that, but I was only…” she began; a well-used and meaningless excuse just a tongue-flick from her lips.

“There is no ‘only’ when it comes to you being late,” Archer cut her off. “You are late by habit and I have no doubt that in your case delay piles upon delay until you can never catch-up.”

“But I…”

“Tell me Mrs Garland, why were you late today?” Archer asked her pointedly.

“Well I…” she couldn’t remember, “I just got a bit behind and the traffic was worse than I…”

“The traffic, what in Abraham Heights?” he cocked one eyebrow. “Not one road transport situation in a hundred is ever going to make one more than two minutes late for anything. And in your case even that margin is denied you. From now on you will leave at least a five minute margin for every appointment, no excuses. So see it does not arise.”

“Yes I’ll be sure to…” Louise began.

“No, what you will do is remove your jacket and skirt before putting your nose in that corner,” Archer told her.

Louise closed her mouth and followed his nod to a space between an antique chest and a scroll-arm divan that stood against the wall at right angles to it. Now that she looked, the corner between looked conveniently vacant.

“Surely…” she licked her lips nervously as absently she pointed to the space.

“At 40, was it? You won’t be the oldest girl to stand there, but you come pretty close,” he chuckled, “And you have no idea how often I wanted to see you there. All those times you were late collecting Karen.”

“Dr Archer,” she remonstrated, “Now that I know… I mean I promise that I won’t…”

“No promises, you can’t keep them, if you could we wouldn’t be here. Maybe one or two sharp experiences will ensure that your tardiness is now kept to a minimum,” he said, “And I mean that. It will take more than a couple of good spankings to cure you altogether.”

Louise took a breath and was about to argue, but she knew the look on his face. She had seen it on her parents back in the day and she had even used it herself not so many days before on Karen. She knew then that sooner or later it would come to this and in her heart she had always known it.

“Fine,” she said tartly and strode across to the divan as she divested herself of her jacket.

“Mrs Garland, I really don’t want any attitude from you,” Archer warned.

Louise didn’t answer, but dipped her head to focus on the jacket buttons.

“I am going to leave you to it for a few minutes,” Archer said gently, “Once you have removed your skirt, I want you to remove your panties too, just as you did when you previously under discipline, just as I require of your daughter.”

Just as I require of her too, Louise thought grimly and made a face where Archer couldn’t see. “Yes Sir,” she said without thinking, after all it was how she addressed her father at such times.

*

Louise heard him come in behind her and she drew in a long slow breath and let it out quickly. Between the hem of her blouse and her stocking tops her bottom was bare and to Louise’s mind somewhat too big. It didn’t help that it was emphasised by her garter belt. What had she been thinking? He must think her a… she rolled her eyes and blushed. Without considering it further she pressed her nose tighter into the corner and gripped her hands into the small of her back.

“I had allowed an hour for our first meeting,” he said to her comely backside, “And we seem to be 35 minutes in. But you kept me waiting and I see no reason not to keep you until we are done.”

“No Sir,” she mumbled feeling utterly foolish.

“In future you will have no appointments after this one on a Friday and if that doesn’t suit we can discuss meeting on another evening,” he said in a hard firm voice.

“Yes Sir, that’s fine,” she found it odd talking into the wall, but also strangely familiar. Her father had a habit of addressing her in this position. Over the years it had become no less mortifying, in fact now that she as a grown woman and 18 years beyond her parents influence it was even more humiliating.

“I will keep you there until the top of the hour and then we shall begin,” Archer explained.

Louise made a heavy breathing sound that could mean resignation or sullenness. Archer wasn’t sure and decided to let it go.

“W-what exactly are you going to do?” Louise asked, her voice now small and partially muffled by the walls pressed into her face. It was hard to be assertive when standing in the corner with your bare bottom on show to a man she hardly knew. Gods, if any of her business clients could see her now…

“You know exactly what I am going to do, you have always known haven’t you?” Archer said impatiently.

Louise swallowed and slowly nodded. “Yes Sir,” she said.

It was a long nervous wait for the supposedly mature woman. Each minute seemed like an age, moments that worked on her nerves and occasionally she would let go with a heavy sigh. It had ever been like this and the memories came flooding back, as did the old vulnerabilities.

Corner time was an odd mix of embarrassment, surrender and boredom. After only a few minutes she felt her legs ache and her exposed thigh began to itch. In fact she felt the urge to scratch or rub so many places currently denied to her. Worst of all time dragged and every movement in the room jarred her and brought home that her bottom was bare and completely on show as layer by layer her pride was peeled away.

When Dr Archer finally spoke it came as a shock as if she had forgotten he was there.

“I want you to come here Mrs Garland,” Archer said at last.

Louise was trembling now and he heard it in her breathing. As she turned around she dropped her gaze and moved her hands in front to cover her sex.

“It seems silly calling me Mrs Garland, more embarrassing somehow. My name is Louise,” she said quietly.

“Perhaps later, right now it is Mrs Garland who is going to get a spanking, a young woman who really ought to know better,” Archer said wearily as he beckoned her over.

“Young…?” Louise flushed, but she liked the accusation, even his tone made her feel like a 16-year-old caught sneaking in late.

“You are to me and let’s have less chatter, you’re stalling,” he growled.

Louise crossed the room at a stoop, not daring to meeting eyes and without him touching her she stood adjacent to his thighs and made a half bend until gravity tumbled her across his lap.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered.

Her full bare bottom was now two hills over his knee and with her head down it felt huge and vulnerable.

“I don’t usually use my hand, but I think a short warm up is called for and then we will proceed to the more traditional hairbrush,” Archer told her. “In future you may just bend across a stool or chair and I will use a paddle, cane or some other implement. Is that clear?”

“Yes Sir,” she replied, her throat tight.

At this she felt a sharp smack to her rear and she blinked. It wasn’t so bad, but she could feel a tang where his hand had landed. The she was spanked again and she squirmed.

The spanking wasn’t as painful as she remembered, although she couldn’t help jiggling her bottom at each swipe and that set her blushing as she wondered what he must think.

But slowly the steady impact of his hand left a burn that did not fade before it was added to and she began to get a little sore.

“Ah,” she sighed as his hand struck a particular tender spot.

After five minutes or so her bottom was becoming uncomfortable and she was aware that she was breathing heavily.

“Hmm,” she groaned and then gave a more heartfelt yelp as she was spanked again.

“Now that I have your attention,” he said in a firm voice.

This was followed by a sudden hard splat that sent Louise bucking. The hairbrush was worse than she recalled and on an already red sore bottom it was purgatory.

“Nooo,” she yelled as he spanked her again and followed it at a steady pace.

“Are you going to be late again?” he asked.

“Oh no Sir, please, really I won’t,” the tone and words were straight from her late teen years.

The hairbrush struck her sharply and she squealed.

“A little undignified don’t you think, does your daughter know you are not too old for a spanking?” Archer sounded amused.

“No,” Louise gasped and a stray tear rolled down a single cheek.

“Are you saying that you’re not too old?” he said casually as he spanked her for a short volley.

“Eee, nooo, she doesn’t know, she doesn’t know…” It sounded more like a prayer than a statement.

“So you aren’t too old for a spanking?”

“No Sir,” she hissed.

She made a mewling sound and through sniffing and gasps she yelled out at each spank now.

“Can you say that more clearly please,” Archer sounded firmly resolved.

“I am not too old,” Louise growled.

“Attitude,” he snapped at her both verbally and with the brush.

“Sorry,” she wept, her voice croaking a little.

“Then say it,” Archer barked.

“I’m not too old… f-for a…” she sniffed, adding in a wail, “a s-spanking.”

Archer picked up the pace now and began to spank her soundly with great sweeps of his arm that thwacked at a point just beyond the surface of her naked bottom.

Louise greeted the onslaught with broken sobs and incoherent pleading.

“Such a cry baby, your daughter has taken worse than this,” Archer sighed.

“I know, I know,” Louise sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’m so bad.”

“Okay, I think we’re done,” he said at last as he set down the hairbrush. “Back to the corner now and then we will talk.”

“Yes Sir,” she said miserably as she hiccoughed a single sob.

“And put those hands right on top of your head,” he ordered.

Louise obeyed, but instead of answering him she burst into fresh tears which continued for some minutes.

*

“Turn around,” Archer said as soon as Louise had stopped crying.

She obeyed almost reluctantly, now feeling much too shy to face him. “Are we done?” she asked.

“Not quite,” Archer said, “In a moment you will turn back and do at least 40 minutes corner time before I dismiss you. How do you feel?”

Louise sucked in her cheeks at this news but thought it prudent to answer the question.

“You mean apart from sore, mortified, embarrassed and ashamed?” she said ruefully.

“Why ashamed?” Archer frowned.

“I let my daughter go through this, admittedly after discussing it with her, all because… because of her tardiness, attitude and general academic failure… because she was so disorganised,” Louise sighed, “And all the time I was just as bad.”

“We can put that right can’t we?” Archer smiled.

Louise nodded and blurted in relief, “Yes.”

Then Archer said, “We will focus on the shame and use it to bring about catharsis. To that end you will write out 500 times: ‘I, Louise Garland, am not too old for a good bare-bottom spanking and to be sent to the corner,’ bring it to me next week” with your journal.”

Louise felt the heat rise in her face but she nodded. He smiled and made a twist with his finger to send her back to face the wall.

“That’s a good girl,” he chuckled.

*

Louise hadn’t been standing there for 10 minutes when the doorbell rang.

“Don’t move,” Archer said sharply as if anticipating a rebellion.

Louise’s eyes went wide in panic as she hissed, “Send them away.”

For an age-long minute she considered if she had time to get dressed, but by the time she suppressed her panic the study door opened and a familiar female voice led the way into the room.

“Oh I see you have a student,” the woman said, “And I see your reputation is true.” Then she giggled. “My, that poor girl won’t be sitting for a week or more. I like a man who knows his job.”

Louise knew the voice and racked her shame-addled brains for the identity, although she would have much rather have been sucked down into a pit of snakes than be there at all.

“Mrs Garvey, I know we spoke on the phone but how can I…” Archer tried to remember the case.

Linda Garvey, Louise suppressed a gasp. A client and an acquaintance from the Abraham Heights Trade Association, she thought, oh God don’t let her recognise me, don’t let her… she prayed over and over.

She had to listen while Linda discussed the discipline requirements for her daughter who was struggling with the transition from high school to college. She sounded an utter bitch and despite her predicament, Louise felt sorry for the poor girl.

“Well I am not sure we need to go that far, but rest assured I will take your daughter’s guidance in hand,” Archer told her as they finished the discussion.

Louise was suspended in horror until she heard the outside door close.

“I’m sorry about that,” Archer said as he came back in, “she wasn’t expected.”

“I damn well know her,” Louise gasped, all but wheeling on him.

“Nose to the wall,” Archer barked. Then more gently he added, “Well I can see that that might be embarrassing for you, but then that is the point isn’t it?”

“Did she recognise me?” Louise wailed.

“If she did, she didn’t say anything,” he shrugged, “But in any case, that is of no concern. Right now you have another… 30 minutes and then you can thank me and go.”

Oh God, what have I let myself in for? Louise rolled her eyes and thought of Karen.

LSF have launched the first in a new series of books based on Abraham Heights. Future seasons are intended to include all new material so watch this space and get Season One here.

Welcome to Abraham Heights, a town well off the beaten track with an old-fashioned set of family values. Season One of our spanking soap opera features the following six episodes:

Episode 1: The Tutor: Melanie Crow, who is no stranger to discipline, is well aware of her tutor’s strictness regarding the standard of work required and his attitude towards tardiness. She stays out of trouble for several weeks, until one fateful day she is late and her essay is substandard. Initially subjected to a hard bare bottom paddling, she is later caned at the end of the session for her late arrival.

Episode 2: The Prep-School Graduation Barbecue: Nineteen-year-old Mindy Heaver and her friends get into serious trouble after ‘hazing’ a younger girl at school. All three are punished publicly at the barbecue which is held at Mindy’s home each year, and Mindy is also spanked by her mother later that night. However, a teacher at the Senior High School who lodges with the Heavers has something on her conscience, and Mindy’s uncle knows just what to do about it.

Episode 3: The Housemother & the Misplaced Donna: Dr Donna Warren is about to take up a teaching position at Abraham Heights University, and has been assigned temporary accommodation at a freshman hall of residence. Arriving after curfew and a little tipsy, she is initially mistaken for one of the students by the very strict housemother, Mrs Main, who puts her over her knee and spanks her with a hairbrush. It turns out, however, that this is to be the first of many punishments at her hands.

Episode 4: Family Values: It seems that spankings are a common occurrence in the Guinness household and, on this particular occasion, first Dakota and then her elder sister, Freya, are on the receiving end of their mother’s hairbrush, before being made to stand facing the wall. Shortly afterwards, however, having overspent on the credit card, their mother finds herself over her husband’s knee and, after a very sound spanking, is made to stand alongside her daughters. Then, to make matters worse, visitors arrive…

Episode 5: The Trouble with Maintenance: 29-year-old Heather has been abandoned by her husband and left to care for her two children without a penny. She is forced to return home but is surprised when her mother enforces the same curfew she had as a teenager, as well as the weekly Sunday maintenance spankings!

Episode 6: Sisters without Mercy: There are paddlings galore in the sorority house as the new pledges are put through their paces. Later, the big sisters take part in a game of bridge that also has its own spanking forfeits. Meanwhile, young teacher, Donna, knows exactly what will happen if she doesn’t make curfew and she’s already running late…

LSF have published the latest installment of Abraham Heights (a spanking soap). In due course this series will include previously unpublished material, but if you wanted your Donna Warren et al in one place then maybe this is for you.

Welcome to Abraham Heights, a town well off the beaten track with an old-fashioned set of family values. The second season of our spanking soap opera features the following eight episodes:

Episode 1: Home with the Heavers: Spanking is very much the norm in the town of Abraham Heights, something that English lecturer, Donna Warren, is only too aware of in her own dealings with housemother, Mrs Main, and the message is further reinforced when she is drawn to the Heavers’ house. Spying through a window, she witnesses two bare-bottomed women standing in a corner of the living room, before ‘Uncle Paul’ does a thorough job of paddling them both. Realizing the late hour, Donna returns back to her Freshman Hall to face her own consequences.

Episode 2: A Day in the Life: It’s business as usual in Abraham Heights as we get a glimpse into a variety of different punishment scenes, including a painful sorority paddling, a tutor disciplining his student, a husband correcting his wife and a resident of the freshman hall submitting to her housemother’s hairbrush once again.

Episode 3: What Comes around Goes Around: When 26-year-old Ainsley Greenberg visits Abraham Heights to carry out an audit, she opts to stay at a small out of town family-run hotel on the edge of town. She is shocked to discover the hotel owner spanking three young women for missing curfew, but when she leaves the bath taps running one morning, causing a flood in the bathroom, it’s her own bottom that pays the price.

Episode 4: Any Other Saturday: It’s Saturday morning and sorority pledge, Charlotte Coleman, seeks out the tutoring services of Roland Archer, despite his reputation for severe discipline. Meanwhile, Donna is on the receiving end of a vigorous maintenance spanking session from her formidable housemother, Mrs Main.

Episode 5: Needs Must: Donna is dreading her punishment session with Mrs. Main and is struggling to understand why someone of her own age and position still submits to the housemother, but at the same time she accepts that’s it’s something that she needs. In another part of town, Mindy Heaver has been punished for breaking curfew and is bare-bottomed doing corner time when her friends, Alice and Grace, pay a visit.

Episode 6: Exit Strategy: Late with her essay, Melanie Crow finds herself kneeling on a leather pouf with her bare bottom in the air as she awaits the first stroke of the cane from her tutor, Roland Archer. Donna reflects on her punishment and ‘cleansing’ at the hands of Mrs Main.

Episode 7: Quis Docet Domina Errans: When Prudence Trencher fails to pay the rent and makes a mess of the kitchen, Paul Heaver decides that discipline is called for. Finding her in the shower, she tries to escape, but ends up naked over his lap for a prolonged spanking with a wooden bath brush. Meanwhile, Roland Archer has disciplined Karen Garland and is waiting for her mother, who is late once again, to collect her. When she finally arrives, she has an unusual request for her daughter’s tutor…

Episode 8: Tender Memories: In the season finale, the customers and an employee of the Horn Street Coffee Shop all have their secrets, but it appears that they all share something in common as they reflect on a parental spanking, a sorority paddling and an extended introduction to a housemother’s punishment enema.

Abraham Heights is the small American town that time forgot. It scarce lets the 21st century trouble its 1950s sensibilities and old fashioned family values matter and sororities are right off the pages of a Will Henry novella. No young woman’s bottom is safe from a spanking and even out of town English Professor Donna finds there are consequences to missing curfew at the ladies college dormitory.

Publishers blurb runs:

This 3-volume box set features seasons 1 – 3 of the spanking soap opera, Abraham Heights, a town well off the beaten track with an old-fashioned set of family values. With a total of 20 episodes totalling over 80,000 words this is essential reading for the lover of spanking fiction.

Be aware that these are the same three books that have already been published in this series. But if you haven’t bought them before, Season Three contains new material not previously published on this blog.

You can get it here.

Since the relaunch I have had a few inquiries as to whether readers may have missed any stories written while the blog was down. Also Mark and Melanie D asked if I have written anywhere but this blog.

The answer is that while most things I have ever written are available here, some shorts and a couple of novels are not. That is because they never have been or have since been taken down due to publishing commitments.

There are four significant stories (novels really) that are only available for purchase: The Russell Corner, which is the only book to have been printed and was my first novel; The Exit Bureau (a novella) a recent work that has only been available from LSF Publications or Amazon for download; Magic, which is the longest novel I have written and was originally published here but is now too only available for purchase; and The Academy, also originally published here, a dystopian sci-fi about a college for adult young women.

There have also been a few additional episodes of Abraham Heights, season three is predominately only available for purchase. Although selected episodes of Abraham Heights will continue to appear here in future the complete story will only be available if you buy the book.

The main reason for this is that certain story lines can be more readily explored in this format than here.

For those that are interest I include more information below. I hope that answers the many and varied questions. There may be one or two shorts, but I don’t remember which ones just now, sorry.

The Russell Corner

This is a story about Richard Russell and his secretary’s obsession with the Russell Corner; a space in his office where he puts naughty girls after he has spanked them. Our tale also concerns the original wicked stepmother, Catherine Raven, a high-flying property developer who is on a mission to train stepdaughter Eleanor as her successor using the same strict methods that her late-husband and his aunts used to train her. Desperate to impress, Eleanor hatches an unscrupulous plot that could undermine Catherine and brings them both into conflict with Richard Russell. Meanwhile Margaret Spencer, the head of an exclusive finishing school for young ladies, has her own methods for keeping her students in line. Along the way a Janet Russell, Richard’s wife, and various female employees get what they secretly crave and sometimes more than they bargained for. Lots of M/F and F/F erotic discipline, corner time, caning, birching and spanking.

The Exit Bureau

Imagine a world many years in the future, a world which has moved on significantly from ‘Old Earth’ – yet Colonial law still relies on Old Earth corporal punishment. Caitlin is a senior figure at The Exit Bureau, a place where women employees are regularly spanked for minor infractions. Caitlin regards herself above being spanked, but her arrogance does not go unnoticed, and she pays the price. And what a price. It begins with her negligence in paying her tax arrears and traffic violation fines; she is far too busy running her department to bother attending to such minor tasks. But her attitude soon changes when she is called to attend a judicial hearing at the Correction Centre and is subsequently sentenced to ten days of corporal punishment. Now the nightmare really begins. She is stripped and spanked and displayed in a pillory in public. She is subject to a harsh regime of paddling and caning and does not know how she will get through it – particularly as she has been set up – but by who and why? Time enough to ponder that later; her immediate concern is to endure the endlessly strict regime of corporal correction and public humiliation. Not an easy task…

Magic

So begins Katrin’s new life of wonder and exploration. Ensconced in the ladies college known as the Dovecote, she is apprenticed to Dr Arlon Fear, the young mage who is to be her tutor and master for the next few years… though over time he becomes so much more. Katrin takes up her duties and she and her new friends adjust to the rigorous regime of study and discipline. Spankings are a regular occurrence, and the punishments meted out are often severe: hand, belt, paddle, cane, birch, and more are used to tame deserving female bottoms. Yet through it all, Katrin develops her abilities and the bond strengthens between her and her stern and powerful master, Arlon Fear.

And in this world of arcane magic and mystery, perhaps it is love that saves the day…

The Academy

Founded after ‘The Fall’ when the world was changed forever and women outnumber men three to one, the Academy is a place of training for young women between 19 and 25. In this school, teachers are punished as well as the students! Having escaped prison, five new girls are sent to The Academy as an alternative. All are nervous and horrified by the idea of corporal punishment. Kate is particularly brash and insolent, and quite determined that no-one will lay a hand on her, let alone a cane or a paddle. But deep down, she is as scared as the rest. It is not long before the girls plus new arrivals experience the disciplinary regime of The Academy. But who are The Sacred Sisters of Revenge? And is Callie all she appears to be? Deceptions and punishments abound in this erotic tale of adult discipline.

Abraham Heights

Welcome to Abraham Heights, a town well off the beaten track with an old-fashioned set of family values. Most of the action centres around the university although know resident is left untouched by the communities unusual ideas about discipline.