The Winter Storm, Part 2

Michelle listened to the sound of warm air flowing into her room through the open vent above her bed. She was snuggled comfortably beneath flannel sheets, dressed in blue flannel pajamas that featured polar bears frolicking in the ice and snow. Given the choice, Michelle would rather frolic in the snow herself than spend her Friday at school, but she knew it would never happen that way. She had settled for staying warm and toasty in her bed until the last possible moment.

Her bedroom door rattled under the force of a double knock and then her mother’s voice echoed in from the hallway. “If you’re not dressed and downstairs for breakfast in twenty minutes you’ll be walking to school this morning.” As if to emphasize her mother’s point, the window rattled in response to a boom of thunder.

Michelle groaned in annoyance and sat up in bed, keeping her sheets hugged to her chest. “I’m up,” she said. Twisting to her side, she blinked at the red numbers of her alarm clock until they came into focus. More to herself than her mother, she said, “I’ve got plenty of time.”

The bedroom door swung open to reveal Mrs. Bennett with her hands planted firmly on her hips. “I’m not going to argue with you, young lady. You’ve been warned what will happen if your late for school again this semester.”

Michelle straightened back in her bed to glare at her mother. “I’m eighteen, Mom, what difference does it make to you if I’m late or not?”

“You’re still my daughter and this is still my house,” Mrs. Bennett said, stepping into the room. “Now do you want a spanking or are you going to get your butt in gear?”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “You got me Mom. I didn’t stay in bed cause I was tired and it certainly had nothing to do with the temp in the house being colder than a freezer. It was all because I wanted a spanking. Can I have it now or are you going to make me wait until after school?”

Mrs. Bennett scowled at her daughter. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Fine with me,” Michelle said with a shrug. “How about I stay home from school then?”

The paddle was still in Mrs. Bennett’s hand from dealing with Rachel and she raised it for Michelle to see. “I’m not amused,” she said, “and you’re a count of three away from going over my lap this morning.”

Michelle tossed her hair to the side and stared her mother in the face. “I was adopted right? Somebody left me on the doorstep and you just felt sorry for me? I mean really, does no one in this house have a sense of humor besides me?”

“One.” Mrs. Bennett counted aloud holding a finger up for visual redundancy.

“Whatever,” Michelle said. She threw her covers aside and slipped her feet into the slippers waiting on the floor beside her bed. Pretending to ignore her mother’s finger, she stretched with an  exaggerated yawn. She scuffed her feet walking across the floor to the end of the bed and stopped inches from her mother. “You’re slowing me down, Mother.”

Mrs Bennett raised the paddle in her hand to point at Michelle’s chin. “The ice is getting real thin young lady, but never you mind, just keep on skating.” After a moment’s stare into her daughter’s eyes, she stepped aside and followed Michelle into the hall, watching until she disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Fifteen minutes later Michelle, with damp skin and wet hair, joined the family in the breakfast nook. Her gaze caught on Rachel standing in the corner behind their father’s chair. Rachel’s jeans and panties were hanging midway between her knees and ankles giving everyone an unobstructed view of her reddened buttocks.

Michelle rested her hands on the back of her chair and opened her mouth intending to ask about Rachel’s misdeed. She looked to her mother, but found only a cold stare leading her back to Rachel. Guilt tugged on Michelle’s heart as she wondered if Rachel’s troubles had something to do with her staying in bed.

Mrs. Bennett smiled at Michelle and said, “That will be you for a whole week if I have to wake you up one more time this semester.”

Michelle scowled at her mother, convinced that Rachel was in the corner unfairly. “It’s not Rachel’s fault! I can’t believe you would punish her for something I did. I am my own person, you know.”

Mr. Bennett laid his fork and knife to rest on his plate and looked up at Michelle. “Lower your voice.”

Michelle’s gaze flicked from her mother to her father. “But—

“Lower your voice.” Mr. Bennett’s eyes hardened with the seriousness of his tone.

Michelle continued to frown. She looked between her mother and father, frustrated by their apparent lack of empathy and good judgment. Her gaze landed on her sister once again and a mixture of guilt and anger washed over her. She knew the wrong word could easily land her standing beside her sister in the corner and, lacking the right words, Michelle opted for standing in silent objection.

Mr. Bennett picked up his fork and knife and resumed cutting his sausage links into bite-sized medallions. “Don’t you think your sister is capable of getting into her own trouble?”

Michelle said, “Yes, and that’s precisely why it isn’t fair—

Mr. Bennett paused in his slicing to silence Michelle with his eyes. Once her voice trailed off he resumed cutting. “Your sister is in the corner because she chose to run down the stairs this morning. Isn’t that correct, Rachel?”

Michelle’s eyes widened as she looked from her father to her sister.

Rachel turned her head to the side slightly and said, “Yes, Dad.”

Finished with his work, Mr. Bennett stabbed a medallion and looked up at Michelle. “So you see, your mother and I aren’t quite as cruel as you might think.”

Michelle blushed. “I never said that.”

Mr. Bennett said, “No, I suppose you didn’t. Now, why don’t you take your seat and eat some breakfast before you run out of time.”

Michelle pulled out her chair and flopped down in the seat. Her wet hair bounced against her shoulders and the back of the chair sending droplets of water onto the table. She grabbed a slice of toast, dropped it on her plate and then shoveled a spoonful of eggs on top of it. The toast crunched, sending crumbs onto her plate and the table, as she folded it in half into a makeshift breakfast sandwich.

Mr. Bennett looked over his shoulder at Rachel and asked, “Do you think you can walk like a proper young lady and join us for breakfast?”

Rachel swallowed visibly and said, “Not with my pants and panties down.”

Mrs. Bennett scowled at the corner. “This isn’t a joke, young lady.”

“I’m not laughing,” Rachel said.

Mr. Bennett looked pointedly at Rachel’s red bottom. “That’s a good thing, young lady. I suggest you shut your mouth before it gets you in even more trouble.”

Rachel sucked her lips into her mouth and tried to look optimistic while watching her father. The rest of the family sat quietly, trying not to look like they were staring at her.

Mr. Bennett looked down at the black panties bunched around Rachel’s mid-thighs. “Pull your panties up, leave your jeans where they are and come stand at your place at the table. I’m sure you’d like to eat something before breakfast is cold.”

Michelle crunched into her egg sandwich and with a half-full mouth said, “Too late.”

Mrs. Bennett’s eyes narrowed on Michelle. “How many times do I have to tell you not to talk with your mouth full?”

Michelle managed a smile while she continued to crunch on the food in her mouth. She made a point of slowly chewing and swallowing. Rachel, taking advantage of her sister’s distraction, pulled her panties up and shuffled over to her place at the table, standing behind her chair.

Mouth empty, Michelle said, “I wouldn’t make you tell me at all, but it does seem like you’re compelled to mention it at least once a week.”

Mr. Bennett tilted his head at his youngest daughter. “Michelle,” he said with the hint of a warning dripping from his tone.

Michelle rolled her eyes toward the ceiling until the chandelier light made her see spots and blink in regret. “Fine, I’m sorry mother. I’ll not speak with my mouth full for at least another week.”

Mrs. Bennett looked ready to issue a threat in Michelle’s direction, but Mr. Bennett laid his hand over hers and said, “Now that that’s settled, does everyone know about the storm?” As if to emphasize his point, thunder rattled the windows and the chandelier lights flickered.

Michelle shrugged and swallowed the food in her mouth with a visible gulp. “What storm?”

Richard dropped his fork onto his plate with a clank. “The one that’s going to make your white blouse see-through.”

Michelle turned to her brother and said, “Sadly, the school has banned wet blouse contests and I’ll have to wear a blazer today.”

Mrs. Bennett said, “You’re supposed to wear one everyday.”

Michelle swallowed the last bit of her sandwich and said, “I know it was a long time ago, but if you try real hard I bet you can remember being a teenager, Mom and I have it on good authority that you didn’t always follow the rules either.”

Mrs. Bennett shook her head. “I’m beginning to think you were serious upstairs.”

Michelle shrugged. “About what?”

“About wanting a spanking,” Mrs. Bennett said.

“Oh that,” Michelle said. “Well, I have to say Rachel does look awfully cute standing there in her red sweater and black panties. I’m feeling kind of jealous.”

Rachel blushed brightly while looking at her sister with annoyance plainly written on her face. “I don’t think anyone will stop you if you want to take your skirt off and stand at the table.”

Michelle nodded. “You’re probably right, but I wouldn’t want to pull the center of attention away from you.”

Rachel said, “I could be stark naked and you’d still be the center of attention.”

Richard chuckled. “I think we should test that theory.”

Rachel glared down at her brother. “They’ve done test you know. It’s a scientific fact that boys who peep at their sisters go blind.”

Richard said, “It’s not peeping when the sister has been a bad girl. It’s just a fun and effective punishment.”

Rachel blushed a notch brighter. “Hey, you were running too.”

Richard smiled. “Yeah, but you’re older and supposed to be setting a good example for me, not dragging me into trouble.”

Rachel said, “Yeah, well I got spanked for it and you didn’t.”

Richard nodded. “And I’m grounded.”

Rachel blinked and stared at her brother. “So am I.”

Richard said, “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“Then what are you saying?” Rachel asked.

Richard shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s your fault.”

Rachel huffed at her brother. “I didn’t make you run.”

“No,” Richard said, “you just encouraged me. I’m just saying I would feel better and things would be a lot more fair if you had to walk around naked while we’re grounded.”

Rachel stared at Richard with blatant disapproval. She thought about slapping the smug smile off his face. The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge his suggestions and thoughts had less pull with their parents than that of a total stranger’s. Rachel allowed her scowl to speak to Richard and kept her silence.

Michelle watched her parents as they watched the exchange between Richard and Rachel. She said, “If we’re putting it up for a vote, I say Richard gets spanked and walks around naked for the weekend.”

Miles joined the conversation, pushing his empty plate forward on the table. “Fortunately for us all, discipline is not a democratic process in this family.”

Mr. Bennett leaned forward in his chair. “Quite true. I do however feel it’s important that I listen to any of you when you voice your opinions or concerns over discipline.”

Rachel twisted to gawk at her father. “You aren’t seriously considering the twerp’s suggestion that I go naked?”

Mr. Bennett said, “Why shouldn’t I? Considering your reaction, the idea obviously has merit.”

Rachel gaped at her father for a moment and then asked, “How was I supposed to react?”

Mr. Bennett leveled his gaze wholly on Rachel. “Tell me, how many times in the last year has your mother had to talk to you about running in the house and more specifically, about running down the stairs?”

Rachel looked down at the table and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Mr. Bennett leaned back in his chair. “Neither do we, but I do know this is not the first or even the second time you’ve been spanked over it. Clearly you forget the rule almost as quickly as the redness fades from your bottom, but I wonder if you would forget so quickly if you spent the weekend like your brother suggests or perhaps with a fresh spanking every morning.”

Rachel’s arms wrapped in front of her as if she were standing naked. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Mr. Bennett nodded. “Now that is the kind of positive attitude I like to hear. I think this time, you can spend the weekend without your pants. If we have to revisit this running in the house issue anytime soon though, you’ll be wearing less and you’ll be grounded longer.”

Rachel’s lower lip quivered. “It’s not fair.”

“If you think it would be more fair,” Mr. Bennett said, “you can spend this weekend in your birthday suit.”

“I’m not arguing,” Rachel said, glancing at her father.

He said, “Good. Now, I want you to go upstairs to your room, take your jeans all the way off, put them away in the hamper and come back down to help your mother with the day’s housework.”

Rachel shuffled back from the table. “But it’s my vacation.”

Mr. Bennett said, “And you’re grounded. Be glad it’s only the weekend and not the rest of the time you have off from school.”

Rachel shuffled out of the room without another word or even a look at anyone. When she was gone from sight, Michelle turned to her father and asked, “Don’t you think you were a little mean to her?”

Mr. Bennett looked calmly at Michelle. “I’m your father, not your friend. Now, I believe you and Richard should be heading off to school.” He looked down the table to Miles. “Are you ready to leave?”

Miles shook his head. “Give me five minutes. I need to make a call.”

Mr. Bennett nodded and turned his attention back to Michelle and Richard. “Did you two finish all your homework?”

Richard said, “Of course. Did it before bed last night.”

Mr. Bennett looked to Michelle. She nodded looking at Miles as he left the room with his phone in hand. Michelle said, “Uh huh. All done.”

“Good,” Mr. Bennett said. “Now as I started to say earlier, the storm is supposed to get pretty severe today. I expect both of you to wait under cover for either Miles or myself to pick you up from school this afternoon.”

Richard nodded and Michelle, still watching Miles, said, “Sure, Dad.”

Mr. Bennett tapped her arm, getting her to look at him. “That means no running off with your friends after school today.”

“I know,” Michelle said.

Miles re-entered the room, putting his phone back in his shirt pocket. “Alright, let’s go.”

The Winter Storm, Part 1

Mrs. Bennett scurried about her kitchen putting on the finishing touches to the family’s breakfast. She dropped four slices of bread in the toaster and knocked on the nearby glass door to the porch. Outside, Mr. Bennett stopped polishing the lenses of his glasses long enough to smile at his wife. A roll of thunder rattled the door between them.

Mr. Bennett returned his attention to Sinbad, the family dog, and the ominous clouds on the horizons. Mrs. Bennett watched the first drops of rain wetting the wood of the porch before turning back into the kitchen. She walked through the main archway into the adjacent breakfast nook and the house beyond. In a raised voice she called out to her children. “Breakfast is ready.”

Near the base of the stairs Miles paced with his cellphone in hand. “Be right there,” he replied, glancing up at his mother. He scrolled the list of names in his directory looking for the contact information for his first appointment of the day. “I just have to make one call first.”

Mrs. Bennett leveled her green eyes on her adult son. Dressed in a charcoal gray suit and wearing a plain burgundy tie, he looked the spitting image of his father minus the glasses, but she still saw her first child. “It can wait until after breakfast,” she said half teasing, half scolding.

Miles paused in his search and looked up at his mother. He took his fingers off the buttons and dropped the phone in his white shirt pocket with a smile. “You’re right,” he said and pointed himself in the direction of the breakfast table.

As he walked past, Mrs. Bennett slapped teasingly at the back of his slacks. “You bet I am,” she said just before a thunder of footsteps on the stairs attracted her attention. Whirling toward the source she asked, “How many times do I have to tell you two not to run in the house?”

Under the disapproving gaze of his mother, Richard abruptly halted his gallop down the stairs. His rubber-soled black oxfords squeaked on the polished wood. Over his shoulder, his navy blue school jacket bounced against his back nearly slipping from his fingers’ loose hold. Richard’s gaze crossed with his mother’s for an instant before he lowered his head to stare at the polished tops of his shoes. His round cheeks flushed pink contrasting with the light blue collar of his dress shirt.

Following a mere step behind him, Rachel skidded to a halt, nearly sending the two of them tumbling down the remainder of the stairs as she collided into Richard’s back. Rachel spent a precarious moment regaining her balance before looking down at her mother. Their eyes locked just long enough for Rachel to realize her morning was starting off on the wrong foot. She pursed her lips and followed her younger brother’s example, looking down at her feet. Nervously, she brushed the stray strands of her dark brown hair back over her shoulders and then tugged at the bottom hem of her red sweater. She blushed a matching color.

Richard’s voice creaked in his throat. “Sorry Mom,” he said.

Rachel gulped and said, “Sorry.”

Mrs. Bennett shook her head at them and pointed the way back upstairs. “All the way back up and walk down them this time,” she said. Richard and Rachel looked at each other before turning around and grudgingly climbed the stairs back to the upper floor. They returned downstairs at a much quieter pace. Mrs. Bennett waited until they were all the way down and then said, “Good morning.”

The two looked suitably chastised as they replied. “Good morning, Mom.”

Mrs. Bennett wagged her finger between the two as if trying to decide which to scold first. She asked, “Which of you started it this time?”

Richard bit at his lower lip and turned his head to look at his sister. Rachel continued to stare at the floor.

Mrs. Bennett tapped her foot, impatient for an answer. “I’m waiting.”

Rachel tried unsuccessfully to swallow the jitters in her throat. “It was me.”

Mrs. Bennett rested her hands on her hips and shook her head at Rachel. “What did I say was going to happen the next time I caught you running in the house?”

Rachel looked up at her mother, eyes fluttering wide open. “Please Mom,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes, “it won’t happen again. I swear.”

Richard took a half step in front of his sister and said, “It’s not all Rachel’s fault. I shouldn’t have agreed to race her. It really won’t happen again.”

Mrs. Bennett said, “I know it won’t because this time there will be consequences.” She looked into Richard’s eyes. “You are grounded through the end of this weekend and,” Mrs. Bennett pointed at Rachel, “you are not only grounded through the weekend, but you’re going to get the spanking I promised you last time as well.”

“But Mom,” Rachel said.

Mrs. Bennett shook her finger at Rachel’s nose. “I don’t want to hear about it.” She looked to Richard and said, “Go and fetch me the paddle and be quick about it.”

Richard looked as if he might argue for a moment, but his mother’s stern gaze seemed to make him reconsider. He retreated from the scene on course to the breakfast nook where the family paddle hung on a small brass hook from the wall. Richard glanced at Miles, seated at the breakfast table and watching him silently. Richard took the paddle off its hook.

It was heavy in his hand as he turned to walk back to the stairs. The mahogany paddle was polished to a shine and the dark color contrasted nicely as it bounced against the leg of Richard’s tan slacks. The paddle was fairly small, shaped like the back of an over-sized hairbrush. As innocuous as it looked dangling from his hand, Richard had no doubt the paddle would soon bring tears to his sister’s eyes.

Mrs. Bennett pointed to the waist button of Rachel’s bluejeans and said, “Take them down.”

Rachel swallowed her objections and set her fingers to the task. The button came free after only a slight catch and her fingers quickly moved on to dragging the zipper down. Her hands grabbed the sides of her jeans in preparation to pull them down when her eyes caught sight of Richard returning with the paddle. Her face blushed hotter realizing that he could already see a triangle of her black panties and would soon see all of them.

“Hurry up,” Mrs. Bennett said still looking at Rachel, “I don’t have all day.”

Rachel wiggled her hips as she pushed the tight jeans downward. A glance at the embarrassed smile on Richard’s face made her stop. With less fuss, Rachel finished tugging her jeans down to her knees and faced her mother.

Mrs. Bennett took the paddle from Richard and pointed for him to stand off to the side and watch. She turned back to Rachel and said, “Turn around and bend over.”

Rachel obeyed, resting her hands on her knees. Her black panties bulged in the direction of her mother and her legs quivered. She closed her eyes and promised herself she would not cry.

Mrs. Bennett stepped to the side of her, taking position with the paddle. She tapped the wood implement against her daughter’s panties and then reached out with both hands, slipping her fingers into the waistband. A moment later, Rachel’s panties were circling her knees and the paddle was resting against her bare bottom.

“How old are you?” Mrs. Bennett asked.

Rachel inhaled a calming breath. “Twenty-one.”

Mrs. Bennett said, “Certainly old enough to know better than to run in the house, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes Mom,” Rachel said.

“And yet,” Mrs. Bennett said, “here I am about to spank your big butt for doing exactly that. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Rachel said, “I’m sorry.”

“Not yet you’re not,” Mrs. Bennett said raising the paddle into the air, “but you will be.”

The paddle slapped into the white flesh of Rachel’s left buttock causing her entire bottom to bounce. Mrs. Bennett quickly raised the paddle and brought it down on the right buttock leaving Rachel with two identical pink marks on each side of her butt. Rachel endured the initial swats in silence and with dry eyes.

Mrs. Bennett took a step closer to Rachel. She placed her left arm on Rachel’s back and tugged the hem of Rachel’s sweater until it rested in the center of her back. Mrs. Bennett held the paddle at a downward angle and began to swat her daughter’s bare bottom in earnest. She settled into a fast paced rhythm of left cheek followed by right cheek and back again, covering the once white flesh in a blush colored glow.

As the intensity began to build, Rachel found it increasingly difficult to remain stoic. Her legs began to shake stronger and soon her knees joined in, flexing up and down as if she could move her bottom out of the way. The paddle never missed. Rachel started to yelp and the welled tears in her eyes slipped down her face.

“I learned my lesson,” Rachel said with desperation in her voice.

Mrs. Bennett did not so much as pause in the rapid delivery of swats. “We’ll just make certain.”

Rachel yelped and gasped, trying to catch her breath between the swats. She wiggled her bottom around as if the act could douse the flames of stinging pain emanating behind her. Sobs rose up in her chest and began to shake her entire body. There was no escaping the paddle or its effect. Rachel surrendered to it.

With a final flurry of swats, Mrs. Bennett ended the spanking and took a step back from her daughter. “Stand up and turn around and face me.”

Rachel hesitated only a few seconds before rising up and facing her mother. She wiped the tears from her face and sniffled. Though part of her wanted to meet her mother’s gaze, Rachel knew the smart thing to do was to stare at the floor and act humbled. She said, “I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Bennett nodded. “I certainly hope this is the last time I have to say something to you about running in the house.”

“Yes Mom,” Rachel said.

Mrs. Bennett raised Rachel’s chin with a finger to look her in the eye. “Now, just to be certain you’ve got the message, you are going to walk up and down these stairs twenty-one times and,” Mrs. Bennett turned to look at Richard, “you are going to stand right there and count aloud each time she comes down. Am I understood?”

Richard and Rachel said, “Yes Mom.”

Rachel leaned down to pull her pants and panties up, but her mother  stopped her in the act. “Leave them where they are,” Mrs. Bennett said.

Rachel stared wide-eyed at her mother. “But I’ll trip and fall.”

Mrs. Bennett shook her head. “No, you’ll just have to walk real slow and hold onto the handrail like you should be doing in the first place. Now get started before I make it forty-two times.”

Rachel let go of her grasp on her panties and stood up straight. She glanced at Richard only to find him looking at the floor instead of her as she expected. The blush on his cheeks was almost as bright as the blush on hers, making her realize that he was embarrassed by the situation as well. She turned to the stairs and took her first careful step back up them, grabbing the rail in case she tripped.

Mrs. Bennett looked up the stairs past Rachel and asked, “Where’s your sister?”

Rachel kept her focus on climbing the stairs, remaining silent in response to her mother’s question, but Richard released and nervous chuckle and said, “Still in bed.”

“Rachel,” Mrs. Bennett said, “didn’t you wake her up?”

Rachel bit at her lip and looked back at her mother. “I tried,” she said. “I’ll go try again, if you want.”

Mrs. Bennett shook her head. “No, you have some trips to make up and down these stairs. I’ll take care of Michelle.” She grabbed the opposite rail and started up the stairs.

A Look Ahead

A little time to think about the past, present, and future.

Happy New Year! I can hardly believe it’s been a year since I posted my first story to ITS. Although there have been some pitfalls along the way and I did miss a few weeks, I have mostly succeeded in providing a new story every week. The good news is I’m not finished providing new stories here and you can all look forward to another year of weekly posts (excepting those unusual circumstances when something goes wrong, like I get a massive dose of writer’s block or my computer decides it needs a vacation because it is an unbelievable ten years old and has worked 10 hour days for most of that time, but I digress.). The bad news is you have to wait until next week for my first story for 2011.

It wouldn’t quite feel like a new year if I didn’t take the time to think about where I’ve been and consider where I am going. I like to think I learn things every year and get a little bit smarter and wiser along the way. On the top of my learned list is a little something about ambitious planning, like not to do it. I have a tendency to get carried away with whatever new story idea floats into my head. The problem with that is most of the time I have a new story idea floating in my head before I’ve finished the previous one. Hence, I have a few major story projects in various unfinished stages.

Over a year ago I started thinking and planning for a project called Jessica’s Toil and shortly after that came another project called The Retreat and then came something called Lyrics Are Lies and that was followed up by The Spanking Days of Summer and The Spanking Chronicles of Cedar Lake: For The General Assembly. Interestingly enough, only the last one managed to get finished last year. I won’t promise all of these projects will be finished in the new year, but I do intend to work on them systematically and I will keep you updated as to their progress.

Another learned lesson from 2010 is that while 1000 to 2000 word stories are fun and easy to write, they often fall short of their potential leaving both reader and writer unsatisfied. To that end, I’ve decided to adjust my current method of storytelling for ITS. My experiment was April’s Thanksgiving Shower which was told in four parts. Judging by the number of comments and emails the story received, I would have to say this was a rather successful experiment. In that light, I’m currently writing a new multi-part story called The Winter Storm. It will be posted weekly on Mondays starting January 10, 2011.

Late in 2010 I tried another experiment, writing essays or articles exploring various aspects of the corporal punishment lifestyle. These had some mixed reviews, clearly appealing to some of my readers and clearly boring others. The first rule of writing is that you can’t please everyone and if you try, you end up pleasing no one at all. Keeping that in mind, I’ve decided to post the remainder of those throughout the new year as filler posts between stories. Which means what I have left of the articles might well last me into 2012.

All things considered, I’ve been very happy with Imagine the Stories and have found sharing my writing on it to be a very positive experience. I have enjoyed watching the readership grow and have truly appreciated the growth in commentors sharing their thoughts and encouragement with me. It is my hope to see those things continue in 2011 and I will do my best to provide material worthy of being read and talked about.

Happy New Year!

April's Thanksgiving Shower, Part 4

**The following story is based in part on actual events, fictionalized and embellished for your entertainment. The names have been changed to protect the guilty, the innocent, and the author.***

The doorbell rang. I was still in the corner, still naked and very much ashamed. My heart thudded in my chest and a cold shiver ran down my spine. Dad’s heavy footsteps echoed on the entryway floor and I flinched at the sound of the deadbolt being turned back. The door separated from its seal and the hinges squeaked, but my ears ignored the door and focused on the chorus of voices from beyond its threshold. Thanksgiving was in full swing and the corner was no place to hide.

My siblings descended the stairs in a rumble. I could hear the cramming of family gathering in the entryway with the door still wide open. The sounds of greetings and hugs permeated the air with a warmth that nevertheless put a chill in my bones. I pressed myself into the corner as though it could swallow me if I pushed hard enough. The door closed shut with a click and the deadbolt was turned once more. Silence fell upon the house. I didn’t need to turn around to know they were looking at me or more aptly, my bare, spanked butt.

Aunt Matilda cackled. “Don’t tell me I’ve got a naughty niece.”

“Of course not,” my brother Jeremy said. “It’s just a bad girl with no clothes and a red bottom standing in the corner. We don’t really know who she is, but with a butt that festive Dad just couldn’t resist displaying it.”

I blushed hotter by the second, keenly aware of my nakedness and my still aching butt. If embarrassment killed, I would have been six-feet under in a see-through casket. My hands were possessed with an almost insuppressible desire to cover my bare breasts, not that it would be enough or of any real value in protecting my modesty. I was exposed and there was no escape without even greater exposure. It seemed like my worst nightmare had come true.

Dad said, “April, do you want to turn around and explain to your Aunt and Uncle why your standing naked in the corner with a spanked butt?”

I focused on the word ‘want’ as if it was more important than any other part of Dad’s question. It was just wishful thinking on my part. “No thanks,” I said.

A growl emanated from behind me and I suspect it was actually Dad. He asked, “Would you rather bend over for another dose of the paddle?”

Perhaps it was just me, but it seemed as if Dad had lost all perspective on what constituted a real choice. I stepped back from the corner and turned around to face the room. Looking at my Aunt and Uncle, I felt as if my face was about to explode into a ball of fire. Despite the heat in my face and butt, the rest of me felt chilled to the bone and my heart thumped in my chest like a ticklish rabbit’s foot. It was easier to stare at the floor, but I could tell from the look on Dad’s face he wasn’t going to allow me the luxury.

I focused on my Aunt’s big nose and said, “Happy Thanksgiving. I had a disagreement with Dad about my shower time and an apology. I’m sure you can guess which one of us lost.”

Uncle Gregory stepped forward and grabbed my chin to make me look at him. He said, “It sounds like you could still use some attitude adjustment.”

I blinked innocence. “I had a great attitude this morning, but apparently Dad likes me with a little more sarcasm. I got the message loud and clear when he started swinging the paddle.”

Aunt Matilda said, “If you were my daughter you would be sucking on a bar soap.”

I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t that I was scared of her sticking a bar soap in my mouth, knowing her she probably had one in her purse. No, the real thing keeping my mouth shut was the incessant image she had planted in my head of her and my Dad having intimate relation to produce a child. It was disgusting and just the sort of thing I would have loved to point out to her, but I’d spent just long enough in the corner to listen to the stinging in my rear. And it was telling me to shut up while I was ahead.

Dad pointed at the corner again making me wonder if there was some strange magnetic attraction between the joined walls and his index finger. “Back to the corner young lady. I think you could still use a little more time thinking about your behavior before joining the rest of the civilized world.”

“Wouldn’t you rather send me up to my room?” I asked, taking a step back toward the corner.

“Corner,” Dad said, still pointing. I’m pretty sure he was the only one in the room not amused by my question. Well, other than me that is, cause I was being totally serious.

I thought about reminding Dad that my bedroom came equipped with four corners of its very own, but the audience seemed a little unreceptive to such comments. All things considered, the corner was a much more attractive location than say standing beside the couch while they all caught up on a year’s worth of gossip. I took the last step into the corner, glanced back at Dad’s pointing finger and then pressed my nose into the wall once more. Dad cleared his throat and I reluctantly raised my arms back up, placing my hands together behind my head.

They left me alone, filtering their way into the living room for tea, cocoa, sausage, cheese, and assorted crackers. Thankfully, and being as it was Thanksgiving I was truly thankful, no one thought about having me circling the room and serving the goodies. Well, I don’t think anyone thought about it and if they did no one said anything. I didn’t mention it either cause while I might say some pretty dumb things at times, I’m not that dumb.

My arms got tired again. I rested my elbows against the wall and wondered if I started counting seconds if the time would pass more quickly or slowly than otherwise. The conversation in the living room behind me was only too easy to hear, but I tuned out everything that didn’t have something to do with me. The things that did have to do with me were noticeably short and rather specific.

I was fairly certain I had an over-sized butt before, but after listening to Lisa and Aunt Matilda, I think maybe it belongs on a giant. And then there was Jeremy and our cousin Robbie who were full of Christmas cheer having seen my butt glowing so bright. I would have reminded them it was neither the eve of Christmas nor foggy in the house, but Dad probably would have taken the opportunity to whip my reindeer butt some more. Silenced reigned in my little corner and I waited impatiently for night to fall.

The timer in the kitchen went off causing a bustle of activity behind me. I blinked myself back into the moment having practically dozed off waiting for either hell to freeze over or Dad to decide I could finally leave the corner. My money was on the devil buying skis. A shocking slap to my butt erased the image of a pointy eared red devil getting ready to race down the tallest mountain ever dreamed up and made me jump deeper into the corner, crushing my breasts against the walls.

Dad said, “Do you think you can do a good job setting the table or should I just paddle you while someone else does it?”

“Can I have a minute to think about it?” I asked.

No, no, no, I didn’t say that, but boy did I want to say it. I mean really, what kind of question is that? Does anybody answer that with, “Oh yes, please, please can I be paddled”? If they do, they are crazy and while I was naked, red-bottomed, red-faced, standing in the corner in front of family and company, I was not crazy. Stupid, sure, but not crazy.

“I can do it if you’ll let me leave the corner,” I said.

Yes, that is what I really said. There was definite submission and regret in my tone and I stared at the walls practically mumbling when I said it. Dad seemed to really appreciate the tone of my voice for the first time all day. He slapped my butt again, probably cause he just wanted to see it wiggle some more and then stepped back from me.

Dad said, “Alright, then I suggest you get to it and don’t forget to use the nice napkins.”

I looked at him over my shoulder and nodded. There were a lot more than just Dad’s eyes on me and I was still none to pleased to be showing off my naked form to everyone. Red blood flowed deeply back into my face, but I pushed the thoughts of my embarrassing situation aside and turned from the corner. I nearly bolted into the dining room and began pulling out plates and silverware trying to pretend I wasn’t noticing the eyes watching me or the way my body parts seemed to sway and bounce with every move I made. It was a little harder to pretend my giggling sisters, brother and cousin weren’t actually making fun of me.

Dad entered from the kitchen door carrying the turkey on a platter, no it wasn’t me, just as I laid the last napkin to rest in its ring. Mom and Madison followed with mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, cranberries, and dinner rolls. Don’t ask me how they carried it all with only two arms a piece, but they did. Dad set the turkey in the center of the table and started carving straight away. Everyone else, made their way around the table and grabbed a seat for their very own. I stood off to the side, hoping I might be sent to the kitchen with a small plate of food or even sent to my room with nothing at all.

Now, I’m sure Dad intended me to learn a lesson for the day about being polite to the family and keeping my wild tongue under control, but the one I was really learning quite well was that hoping was tantamount to asking for the opposite. In other words, I should have hoped for him to make me stand at the table in my birthday suit to enjoy the Thanksgiving meal. If I had, I probably would have ended up in my room instead of standing at the table trying to eat without making a mess on the table or myself. Of course if you’ve ever eaten standing up, you well know that mess just goes with the territory.

They sat, and I stood, at the table for over an hour of gorging on food and conversation. I ate, though my appetite was somewhere upstairs with the clothes I was supposed to be wearing, and despite it all the dinner was good. The biggest annoyance, beyond being naked and standing that is, was that I spent almost as much time moving dishes from one end of the table to the other and filling empty glasses as I did eating. I’m sure there were violins playing somewhere for me. When the meal finally came to its conclusion it was really no surprise that Dad wanted me to do the cleaning up all by myself.

I cleared the table of the dishes and stacked them neatly beside the sink in the kitchen. It took a few minutes for the hot water to really start flowing and while I waited, I put away the leftovers in to the fridge. With the water running it was easy to pretend I couldn’t hear everyone else having a good time chatting in the living room and that made it easy to pretend I was happier being where I was. Of course, it didn’t take much more than forty minutes or so to finish the clean up and then I really was wishing I was back in the kitchen instead of hanging out with the family.

I joined everyone in the living room and stood like a statue beside the couch where my father was sitting. When the conversation dwindled into silence, Dad turned his sights on me. “So April, have you figured out yet that I wasn’t joking with you this morning?”

There were smiles around the room, but neither I nor my father were smiling. It was a joke to everyone except us. I almost said as much until I realized that despite the audience the conversation was really just between Dad and I.  “Yes,” I said.

“Good,” Dad said and stood up, “Then you’ll understand I’m not joking when I tell you that I’m serious when I tell you’ll be spending Christmas and New Years, just as naked and just as spanked if I have any more trouble from you this year.”

“But Dad,” I said, searching for an argument that didn’t sound like whining.

“Whether it happens or not is completely in your hands,” Dad said. “You can either behave like a good girl or not. Each action has a consequence. All you have to decide is which consequence you prefer, naked and spanked or clothed and happy. It’s up to you, understand?”

I frowned and nodded. “Yes.”

Dad grabbed me by the arm and gently led me away from the couch to a spot more centered between the seating areas of the living room. He turned me to face the fireplace leaving my back to the majority of the room as no one was sitting by the fireplace. His hand slapped my butt making me jump slightly.

“Touch your toes,” Dad said, releasing his hold on me.

I looked pleadingly at him. There was no escaping his intentions though and his eyes were hardened to the task regardless of what sympathy he might have felt for me. I sucked in my lips and adjusted my legs apart enough so that I could do what he asked without falling over. My eyes fluttered closed and I leaned down until my fingertips brushed against my naked toes. The silence in the room made it easy to pretend I was alone.

My inner peace lasted until Dad returned to the living room with the paddle in hand. He tapped lightly against my bulging buttocks and then slapped the paddle down hard, reigniting the simmering fire from earlier. I yelped and my eyes popped open. It was only for an instant, but in that instant I was given a humiliating upside down view of my audience. The image of my cousin Robbie grinning from ear to ear was burned into my eyes and even as my eyelids fluttered closed I could still see his face.

Dad was apparently in a rush because no sooner had the sound faded from the first pop and a second swat landed. My eyes opened again, this time with tears spilling out. I stayed down, sniffling and moaning, ashamed of myself and humiliated beyond all words at the predicament. Dad landed another swat and I howled at the burning pain emanating from my blazing butt.

The echo of my embarrassing reaction hadn’t even faded when the paddle landed again. The fire burned with unbearable ferocity and I leaped upward, hands flinging about as the only sensible thought left in my brain warned me not to rub at the source. I hopped around in a circle, flashing the family a generous view of my unguarded, bouncing bits not to mention the face of a bad girl wishing she’d been good. Dad let me go until I stopped bouncing up and down.

“Toes,” he said, pointing at them with the paddle.

“I’m really sorry,” I said sniffling and not bending back over.

Dad sighed. “I’m sure you are, but if you don’t bend back over right this minute, you’ll be even more sorry come tomorrow.”

I decided not to test him or press him for details on his threat. My burning butt became the high point of my body once more and my hair tickled my toes. The tears flowed freely from my eyes and I found it impossible not to stare back at the audience staring at me. It’s unlikely anyone could blush any brighter or hotter than I was.

Dad swung the paddle again and I cried. He gave me no time to recover, to breathe, or to anticipate before landing another swat. I cried louder. He swatted my butt again. I swayed about trying desperately to move my bottom enough that he couldn’t spank it again, but Dad managed without pause. I begged him to stop.

The paddle tapped against my bottom giving me hope that it was over. Dad said, “Are you going to listen to me the next time I tell you to get out of the shower in a half hour or less?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

The paddle cracked against my bottom evoking a pitiful yelp from my lips. Dad rested the paddle against my butt. “Are you going to get smart and fresh with me when I’m trying to talk serious with you?”

I said, “No.”

Dad swatted me again. “Are you going to swallow your pride and ego and apologize to others when you’ve done them wrong?”

“Yes,” I said.

I winced and cried out as the paddle slapped against my butt once more. Dad held it against my bottom, tapping my tender flesh. “Do you want to spend Christmas and New Years like you’ve spent today?”

“No,” I said, sniffling.

The crack of the paddle swatting my bottom echoed in the room. I sobbed and wiped at the stream of tears pouring from my eyes. Dad said, “I certainly hope not because I’m not joking about it. If you so much as stick your tongue out at your brother, that is exactly how you’ll be spending both of those days and quite likely every day in between them. I’m tired of your bad attitude and your inconsiderate behavior and one way or another it’s going to stop. Am I understood young lady?”

“Yes,” I said amid tears and sobs.

Dad said, “Now you’re going to straighten up, say goodnight to everyone and go upstairs to your room. Understood?”

I stood up and nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’re grounded for the rest of the weekend,” Dad said.

I nodded and wiped the tears from my eyes and cheeks. It was difficult turning to face everyone, but the thought that I could soon escape to the privacy of my bedroom made it bearable. There was amusement in a few of their eyes and faces, like Jeremy, Robbie, Lisa, and Jenny. The rest were more solemn and so I ignored the amused and addressed myself to the others. “I’m sorry if I spoiled your Thanksgiving,” I said and though I doubted I had, I meant it.

Aunt Matilda responded for everyone. “We just hope you’ve learned your lesson because believe it or not, we all love you.”

I forced a temporary smile for her and said, “Goodnight.”

Upstairs in my room I checked my bottom in the mirror. It was red and trembling, but there were no flames or cuts or bruises. The spanking had felt much more damaging than it was in reality. I nursed my tender cheeks with my hands and laid down on my bed. Resting my head on the pillow, I closed my eyes and committed myself to observing a white-bottomed Christmas.

The End.