Tuesday, August 28, 2018

From the Top Shelf - Uncle Henry, part 5

It's a new day, and Amanda has more naughtiness planned for the two girls. Apparently she has not learned a thing from the lesson Uncle Henry gave her last week. I am beginning to think that she misbehaves on purpose, and that she actually wants to be spanked.
“Let’s go to town,” said Amanda. It was morning and the sun was out. There was not a cloud in the sky and it promised to be a glorious day. “We’ll stroll the boardwalk and shop. Have lunch. What do you say?”

Uncle Henry had left to attend to business in town. They headed out to the garage where Amanda helped herself to one of the family’s automobiles. There were several stored in the spacious outbuilding adjacent the main house and by the looks of the dust covering them, they didn’t get much use.

“Do you know how to drive?” asked Libby. “Why not just have Charles drive us and pick us up?”

Amanda brushed the question aside. “It’s more fun this way. I’ve driven a car before. Let’s take this one.”

The car she selected was a cute red roadster, a convertible with an open top. Libby wasn’t at all sure Amanda knew what she was doing because when she put the key in and started it up, the car gave a lurch forward and abruptly died.

“I think you have to put in the clutch,” said Libby. “That pedal there.” She pointed to the left. “Then let it out slowly.”

“Yes, of course,” said Amanda with some irritation. “I’d forgotten.”

After a few fits and starts, Amanda seemed to get the auto under control and managed to get it out of the garage without hitting anything. Her friend’s apparent lack of skills behind the wheel made Libby more than a little nervous. She had to wonder if Amanda was authorized to drive a car at all. They roared out, blowing right by Charles who did a double take, shocked that someone else was operating a family roadster. She wondered what Uncle Henry would say, and suspected he would not approve of this lark.

Her worries dissipated as they drove towards town. It was a beautiful day and they were two girls off on an adventure as the car sped along the country road with the top down and the wind blowing through their hair.

They made it to town, then parked on a side street and headed for the boardwalk that ran along the ocean. Shops, mostly cheap tourist joints filled with vacation memorabilia and chintzy knick knacks, competed with restaurants and bars for frontage space. Towards the center where a pier jutted out into the ocean, attractions of a more carnival-like nature beckoned, no doubt calculated to separate tourists from their money.

“Let’s go in here,” said Amanda, peering through the window of one of the more luridly appointed junk shops selling frou-frou. Libby followed her in, but couldn’t fathom why her friend would be interested in such cheap stuff. Amanda strolled the aisles, looking at this and that until her eyes settled on a bin of wooden objects. In it were paddles. Obviously intended as humorous novelties with pithy or corny text, they also bore cute drawings of boys and girls bent over with stars emanating from rear ends that had been spanked. The paddles were light and thin, clearly not serious implements of discipline, and Libby suspected that parents bought them in full view of the kids as an unsubtle warning. Still … they were paddles and were capable of executing their intended function, joke items or not.

“I think I’ll get this for Uncle Henry,” said Amanda, picking one up. “As a joke.”

“Are you serious?” said Libby. It seemed to her that giving Uncle Henry a spanking paddle was inviting disaster, or at least a sore bottom. Whatever was Amanda thinking? She’d been disciplined by Henry on two occasions, and both had been the real thing as far as Libby could tell.

“Well if you must know, Uncle Henry is the family disciplinarian.”

Libby had to feign ignorance. “You mean he gives out spankings?”

“Yes, actually, he does,” said Amanda.

“Has … has he ever spanked you?” Libby asked innocently.

“On occasion,” said Amanda after a moment’s hesitation. “But only if I’ve done something seriously wrong.”

“Wow! Is it bad?” said Libby, knowing full well it hurt, but not wanting to admit what she already knew. “And, he’s, well … a man.”

“Yes, he is. And that makes all the difference. Look …” Amanda seemed on the verge of spilling something. She hesitated then and said, “Look, if I tell you something it must be our secret. Do you swear not to tell?”

“Yes,” said Libby in a conspiratorial whisper, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“When Uncle Henry punishes me, it does something to me. In a womanly way. In a very grown up womanly way.” She halted trying to find the words. “He doesn’t see me as a woman, but I want … I want him to.”

“Do you love him? Is that what you are saying?”

“I think – I don’t know if it’s that. I just …” Amanda looked away, letting her eyes drift, focusing on nothing in particular. “I just want him.” She whipped around and stared Libby in the eye. “He’s a man. He takes control of a woman. Not a boy like those Yale boys… ”

“I’ve noticed,” said Libby in a dry tone.

“Then you understand,” said Amanda, relaxing. “You don’t know what it feels like to have a real man take you in hand. It makes you desire things. You want to do things with him. Wicked things.”

Actually Libby did have an inkling about that. She had certainly felt it. But she bit her tongue and said nothing.

“But to him I’m still this little girl.” Amanda sounded frustrated. She blushed then recovered her composure. “Well, what do you say we get a stiff drink? I need one.”

Libby regarded her friend with eyes wide as saucers. “Like … alcohol? But that’s illegal. Anyway, where would we get it?”

A wicked smile lit up Amanda’s face. “C’mon. I know a place.”

* * *

The place turned out to be a speakeasy joint a block or two off the boardwalk. They spent more time inside than they’d intended, enjoying the attentions of the male patrons who were only too pleased to buy drinks for the two attractive college girls. When they emerged several hours later, both were somewhat wobbly.

Somehow they managed to make it back to the car, start it up and push away from the curb, but in her inebriated state, Amanda began to weave around and eventually ran off the road into a ditch on the outskirts of town. If that wasn’t enough, a patrolling constable had seen the young woman veering all over the road and had followed her. He was too late to prevent the unfortunate crash, but not too late to assess the state of intoxication of the roadster’s occupants. There was nothing to do for it but haul them to the local jail. Eventually the sergeant of the watch extracted Amanda’s identity and did the one thing Libby feared. He called the Pierpont house.

Taken to a special section of the jail reserved for more high profile detainees, Amanda and Libby were ushered into an empty cell to sleep it off. Though the police were well aware of the clout wielded by Amanda’s family in the region, they could not allow the girls to leave in the condition in which they’d been found. Instead they placed them in more comfortable surroundings away from the general population. Her head spinning still, Libby lay down and dozed off.

Footsteps echoing loudly in the corridor startled Libby awake. She looked over at Amanda who was in the process of slowly coming back to consciousness. A tall shadow cast by a man in the doorway made Libby gasp. It was Uncle Henry and he did not look happy.

* * *

“Exactly what did you two think you were doing, going into that speakeasy? Amanda, you know very well that’s illegal.” Uncle Henry scolded them as they sat in the back of his Bentley while he drove. “Not only that, but you took a car out of the garage. Do you even know how to drive? Apparently not.” Uncle Henry answered his own question without waiting for her response. He was just getting warmed up, it seemed to Libby. “May I remind you that you are a Pierpont, and your actions reflect on the family? I see that I must, and I intend to do just that – in a way you will truly remember.”

“Uncle Henry, please,” said Amanda. “No harm was done.”

Henry nearly exploded. “No harm? No harm? You take a car you can’t drive. You sneak into a speakeasy. You put your car in a ditch because you don’t know how to operate it, either sober or under the influence of alcohol. You both could have been hurt. Hurt in a serious way. And you say ‘no harm.’”

By then Henry’s car had pulled up to the front entrance of the Pierpont house. Uncle Henry gave the keys to Charles then ushered Amanda and Libby into the house. Once inside, Henry stopped for a second and glared at both girls, as if trying to make up his mind.

“Both of you – go into the library and wait for me.”

So, Libby thought, she was to be included too.

“Wait, Uncle Henry,” said Amanda. “Don’t you want to see the present I bought you in town?”

Libby couldn’t believe her friend was doing this. She was egging him on – as if he needed to be provoked at this point in time. Henry was already furious, and Libby’s knees were quaking. He was sending them to the library – that could only mean one thing, and Amanda was about to hand him that novelty paddle.

“Here,” said Amanda with a smirk on her face, handing him a plain brown paper bag.

Henry’s face wore a puzzled expression as he took it. He fished out the paddle, and cocked his head toward Amanda, frowning. “Well. I see you’ve thought of everything,” he said in a droll tone of voice. He hefted the paddle and smacked his palm with it. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but it will do for a starter.” He handed the paddle back to Amanda. “You hold onto this. Now – into the library, both of you.”

Amanda turned on her heels and, flouncing her skirt, marched toward the library without a word. Libby grimaced and followed after her friend. Once there, they waited. Amanda went to the window and looked out, her head moving as if searching for something. Libby took the opportunity to inspect the odd rolled arm couch, the one over which Amanda had bent to receive her strapping that first night.

Finally Libby had to ask. “What is this?” She casually ran her hand across the cylindrical side wing of the sofa. It couldn’t be an armrest. It was too high. At the opposite end, the similar wing was a low armrest, giving the piece an unsettling asymmetrical look.

The question snapped Amanda’s attention away from the window. “Oh, that. They call it an Edwardian Punishment Couch. Quaint, isn’t it? The high end is made so you can bend your body over it while standing and thrust out your rump. Positions the buttocks perfectly for a good thrashing. And that’s what is coming, you know. A good thrashing for us both.”

Libby backed away, her hands behind her as if unconsciously protecting her seat from the notion of bending over and presenting it.

“Yes, I think you are for it too. Not as bad as me perhaps, but Henry has definite notions of what he considers to be proper behavior. He thinks we are in on it together and we’ve both behaved badly.”

Libby wanted to say that Amanda obviously deliberately set out to misbehave. She had as much admitted that the whole thing was a game to her. She started to speak but was interrupted as heavy footsteps announced that Henry had returned.

He strode into the room, and Libby backed away as he approached. Her heart fluttered and her legs shook. Amanda leaned against the window sill, an amused smile on her face as if she didn’t care what he did. He held the toy paddle in his hand, sat on the Edwardian couch and crooked his finger at Amanda.

“Come here, Amanda.”

With a toss of her head Amanda ambled over to stand next to Uncle Henry. She folded her arms.

“Well?” she said with a hint of insolence.

“Do you think this is a game?”

Amanda shrugged. In Libby’s view she was going out of her way to be a provocative brat.

“Lift up your skirt.”

Both girls were wearing the straight skirted dresses favored by fashionable young ladies of the day, currently nicknamed “flappers.” Amanda had to wiggle to pull the skirt up and over her hips. Libby was sure she put something extra into it just to tease Henry. Once she got the garment up, Henry’s hand shot out and grasped her around the waist. She gasped in surprise as he hauled her across his knee.

Underneath the skirt she was wearing silk step-ins with lace trim. Henry picked up the little paddle. “All right, Amanda. Here’s the first lesson. You are not permitted to just drive off in a roadster.”

The paddle came down and Amanda squealed it is it hit with a series of sharp pops. Henry spanked Manda’s bottom steadily, delivering a volley of brisk cracks that had Amanda yelping and squirming.

“This little piece of wood stings, doesn’t it, Amanda?”

“Yes! Yes! Ouch, Uncle Henry – please. Oh … ow!” Amanda was laid out along the couch, her hips propped up right over Henry’s lap. She fluttered her legs, her toes thumping on the couch cushions.

“Not a toy is it?” The paddle snapped down again and again, meeting Amanda’s thinly clad bottom.

“Ow! No – please stop. That’s enough!”

Amanda was clearly in distress. It seemed she had underestimated the punitive power of what was supposed to be a toy implement. Uncle Henry spanked her briskly for several minutes, smacking her fanny all over and doing a thorough job of it. Then he let her up. She shot to her feet and rubbed her bottom.

“That stung!” she said.

“Now stand over there. Face the wall,” he said, pointing.

He turned to Libby. “Libby, I’m afraid you’re in for it too.”

“Me?” said Libby.

“I’m afraid so, if you wish to stay the rest of the month. Partners in crime share everything,” he said. “Lift up your skirt and come here.
We will have to wait until next week for Libby's spanking, and do you think that Uncle Henry has finished with Amanda's punishment? No, me neither.
From Hermione's Heart


Roz said...

Amanda sure is a spoilt brat and deserves what she gets. Gotta feel some sympathy for Libby though. Really enjoying this story Hermione.


Enzo said...

Sounds like they are both going to get some serious discipline. Or at least I hope.