From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, conclusion

We are back in the principal's office for some long-overdue discipline.

One week later…

The sexy looking adult woman in the attire of a teenage schoolgirl stood nervously in front of the desk as the Principal lectured her about her behavior. She wore an abbreviated plaid skirt that ended several inches above the knee, displaying the taut lines of her legs. Her breasts pushed against the tight white blouse in front and her pert bottom jutted out in back. Her hands were behind her back and she shuffled nervously from foot to foot. The principal finished the scolding and slid open a drawer.

Inside was a short wooden paddle. It had a legend on it that said “Heat for the Seat”. He pointed to the desk. The schoolgirl leaned over placing her elbows on the desk. The Principal moved to her rear, gripping the little paddle. Placing it under his arm he raised the schoolgirl’s skirt in back to reveal a plump and shapely bottom clad in brief white panties. The Principal placed his thumbs in the elastic of the panties and ignoring the protests from the schoolgirl, drew them down to her knees. The unveiling revealed the lush rounded globes of a shapely posterior. He patted the lush cheeks then stood to her side and tapped her with the paddle. Then he drew back his arm.

Smack! Smack! Smack! The Principal delivered three brisk swats that had the schoolgirl dancing and shuffling. Another three and she was arching her back and wailing. The pert cheeks quivered as the paddle struck. The next volley was four whacks that had her standing on tip-toe.

“Ooooh….owwweee!” she yelped.

He gave her three more, slow, deliberate and harder. At the last of these she shot up and clapped her hands to her buttocks, rubbing furiously.

“Oh, Ward, Omigod…..that really stings.”

“And that,” said Ward with a wry chuckle, “Is what naughty girlfriends get in this Principal’s office.”

In truth it wasn’t his office, it was the den in his apartment, and Beverly was no schoolgirl.

Beverly continued to rub, but then licked her lips. In a husky voice she said, “Ok, I deserved that. But now that I’ve been properly punished, I’ll show just how naughty I can be.” Before Ward could respond, she had dropped to her knees and deftly unzipped his fly. As she suspected he was in full arousal. Beverly licked the swollen member up and down the its length. She could hear Ward gasp as she swirled her tongue around the head. Satisfied that he was ready, she took his hand. “You come with me,” she said, dragging him toward the bedroom.

The paddling had made her bottom throb with heat, but that same heat was now driving her to full arousal. She pushed Ward onto his back and mounted him, sitting astride his torso. She lowered herself onto the erect shaft, which was sticking straight up, and began a rocking motion. Beverly tore off the schoolgirl blouse and unclasped her bra, allowing her breasts to spring free. Ward reached up with his hands and grasped the hardened nipples. She bent forward, smothering his face with kisses, and together they sprinted toward climax. As they ground their bodies against one another, Ward’s penis rubbed against her clitoris. A white hot explosion erupted from her core and she came, bucking and thrashing. Ward was right behind her and she felt his body stiffen and jerk as his climax arrived.

Later, they lay side by side.

“If that’s what happens when you’re naughty, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to curb that behavior,” said Ward, chuckling.

“You can try,” she said with a coquettish smile. “You can try any time at all.”

I suspect he will be trying often.

From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, part 4

Let's resume our story and see if Beverly and Ward ever meet again. To refresh your memory, here are part1, part 2 and part 3.

Several days later she was shopping again for groceries. There in the produce aisle, once again, was Ward McCollum. When he saw her, he joked, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Bev laughed. “Of course, but rather here than in your office.” She almost rubbed her behind, but stopped herself.

Then he had to laugh. She had a point there. Then he became serious. “I have to ask, how is Haley at home? Around school she seems to be doing fine now. I don’t see any of that rebelliousness. I hated to use the paddle, you know, but sometimes that’s what works. Say would you join me for another cup of coffee?”

Bev felt flattered. From his manner she wondered if he was interested in her, as a woman, not just as Haley’s mother. She hoped so. “Sure. I’ll just check out.”

“Same shop--- on the next corner. I’ll meet you there.”

They met again at the coffee shop. Their conversation this time was more cordial. Ward seemed very nice once he was able to put aside his role as The Principal. As she suspected, Ward had no wife.

Then, to her absolute surprise Ward asked her out. She then surprised herself and accepted. “I took a chance here,” he said. “After all, our previous meetings have been, ah, not so pleasant.”

“I know,” said Bev, “so it is weird, just a bit. But, I’d better meet you somewhere.” Ward laughed.

 “I can see the wisdom in that. I’m not sure Haley would welcome me into your house.”

“You know, Ward, she really was ok about it afterward. I thought she’d be resentful and angry, but I think you were right. A short sharp shock is what she needed to turn her around.” Then Bev added, almost as if talking to herself, “I guess I needed it too.”

Ward took that in. “It was very brave, what you did. It’s admirable. And if I may say, you are a very attractive lady.”

Bev blushed, thinking about the rear view she had presented him with. Truth be known, she had to admit, her sexuality had always been centered around her bottom. It was her primary erogenous zone. She liked for men to fondle it, to knead it. It drove her crazy. But spanking it? That paddle had hurt, but the feeling afterwards had been sensuous. Would she want that again? No she decided, but then she studied Ward’s hands. They were large. What would his hands feel like?

* * *

Three months later…

Ward had courted her and the relationship had developed nicely, albeit slowly. They’d dined out, had gone to a few shows, and even one night dancing (although the dancing had been to a country band -- not her favorite). He sure was taking his time though, sighed Beverly. So far, no fireworks. He was a bit old fashioned in that respect, and she wondered when he would make a move. She was certainly ready. Replaying in her mind the scene in his office was arousing now even though it had been embarrassing and painful at the time. What must she have looked like, bending over and sticking her bottom out like that? But that and Ward’s forceful treatment of her, that’s what had her thinking very naughty thoughts. It was frustrating that he was moving so slowly. Maybe he felt he had to, given his position.

Now he had invited her to a costume party. It was a charity function and all the prominent folks in Hot Springs and some dignitaries from Fort Smith and Little Rock would be there. Ward was going to go in character and be The Principal, complete with formal gown and mortar board hat. Bev decided to compliment this by going as schoolgirl. In a thrift shop she found a plaid jumper and saddle oxfords. Then she added knee socks.

She looked herself over in the mirror. The jumper was short. It ended well above her knee, showing plenty of leg. Her breasts filled the white blouse nicely. Overall, she had to admit it was sexy -- thirty five year old schoolgirl Lolita, that was her. To cap it off, she put her hair in twin pigtails. The short plaid skirt, the tight top that her breasts strained against, the knee socks---she had to admit, it was a sexy tease to be sure. She wanted cute, not schoolgirl slut, but what the hell, she thought. Maybe it would light a fire under The Principal, as she had mentally dubbed him, and get things rolling.

Ward did a double take upon picking her up at her door, shaking his head and giving her a low whistle. That secretly pleased her even as she pretended embarrassment at his reaction. The party was to be held at the Sutton estate, a large manor house that had been the country home of a wealthy industrialist, but was now a property used as a conference center. It had a grand ballroom, a large study, a library, and sixteen bedrooms upstairs.

“There are some people here that I’ll need to talk to,” he told her. “There’s the superintendent for the county and some county commissioners and state legislators. Our budget is coming up and I need to get my two cents in.”

“And I thought we were here just to have a good time,” she teased.

“Well, I do have to do a little politicking,” he admitted. “But it will be fun. I promise.”

It was nice being with Ward. He introduced her to everyone he talked to. Beverly really didn’t know anyone, but she dutifully played the attentive escort. Every one they met remarked on the complimentary outfits, he The Principal and she the Schoolgirl. She got appreciative once-overs from the men. A few joked mildly at her expense.

“Very nice costume. But, I hope you behave yourself, young lady, and you don’t find yourself sent to the principal’s office.” And everyone would chuckle. If they only knew.

Then he started talking business with local politicians and Beverly grew bored. They were serving champagne. It always made her light headed. Before she knew it she was floating quite freely and feeling euphoric. The next time somebody cracked the joke about the principal’s office she cracked back, “Oh yes, I’ve heard he has a biiigg paddle for naughty girls.” And she spread her hands wide for emphasis. It got a nervous laugh. They could see she was tipsy. Ward frowned because “the somebody” had been a state senator high up on the budget committee.

“Beverly, cool it,” he whispered. “I need you to make a good impression.”

“Lighten up, Ward. Have fun.” She helped herself to another flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter.

Ward grimaced. It was enough that she was in that too sexy schoolgirl getup, although he had to admit, it was turning him on. But it was also that she was getting loopy and people were noticing. He pulled her aside. “Look, Bev, there are some important people here so please, tone it down a bit.”

But Bev was having too good a time. She flirted with anyone who commented on her outfit. And when she did, she stole glances at Ward to observe his reaction. He was getting steamed. So what? She thought. He could be stuffy if he wanted, but part of her knew she was poking a hornet’s nest -- and didn’t care. What would he do?

It was an offhand comment that finally did it. She was flirting with a couple of men while Ward was talking to another small group, when one of the men called over to Ward, “Hey Ward, I think little miss naughty here needs to see the principal. Don’t you keep a paddle around for this sort of thing?”

As Ward turned to look, Beverly stuck her tongue out and stepped on the guy’s foot---accidentally on purpose-- causing him to spill his drink down the front of his costume.

“Christ! Look what you did!” The guy sputtered. Beverly giggled.

Ward appeared at Beverly’s side and took her arm. “That’s quite enough, Bev. You’ve had too much to drink.”

Beverly stomped her foot. “I have not,” she said, jerking her arm away and in the process stumbling into a waiter holding a tray of canapés. The tray went flying and so did the canapés.

“Ok, that’s it,” said Ward. He grabbed her wrist and hustled her toward the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Bev sputtered as Ward tugged her along. She could imagine what the pair of them looked like. Ward in his black cap and gown pulling Beverly along. In her scandalously short tartan jumper, knee socks and pigtails she was a distraught schoolgirl being taken to task. Ward ignored the comments and chuckles from clusters of partygoers who witnessed the scene.

“Uh, oh, looks like somebody is in trouble,” tittered a slender blonde, eyeing the determined Ward.

“That’s the principal at the high school,” whispered her companion. “What do you think he’s going to do?”

“I think miss naughty schoolgirl is going to make a visit to the principal’s office.”

“I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes,” said her friend.

The blonde turned to her friend and smiled. “Oh, wouldn’t you? I wonder. He looks determined. She’s apparently been… naughty.” She shivered as she said that last word. “I wonder what he’ll do to her.” Her companion stared. Ward had looked around and had spied the staircase. Now he tugged a wobbly Beverly up the stairs, stumbling along behind like a recalcitrant child.

It was a big house. The party was downstairs and two levels up the place was deserted. Perfect. Just what he needed, lots of privacy. He opened several doors before he found what he was looking for -- an empty furnished bedroom. He pulled Beverly inside and shut the door.

“Why are we here?” pouted Beverly. “I was having a good time. I’m going back downstairs.” She turned to leave but Ward blocked her exit.

“You are not going anywhere until you promise to behave.” Ward stood between her and the door, arms folded, a sentry forbidding her to leave.

“Get out of my way, Ward.” She stamped her foot.

“Promise you will behave, or else,” said Ward firmly.

“Or else, what? I get my fourth detention? You didn’t bring your paddle.” She giggled as she said it, but a part of her knew that she was deliberately goading the man. She felt both reckless and excited. It almost seemed like the schoolgirl outfit had given her license to act like one. Her pent up frustration with the slow pace of Ward’s courtship had led her to tease him this way.

Ward smiled casually and it was that smile that finally sent a chill up Beverly’s spine. “Oh, I don’t need any paddle,” he said. He now understood. The outfit, the bratty behavior. It was a deliberate provocation. He took her wrist again and led her over to the bed. “But I think you are right about the detention, and it’s time you paid for your behavior downstairs.”

“What are you…?” But before Beverly could stop him he tipped Beverly across his knees face down.

For a second she was too shocked to react, but then she struggled as she realized what he was about to do.

“Ward, no. Don’t!” She looked anxiously over her shoulder.

But Ward was past the point of polite discussion. He flipped up the little skirt in back to reveal Beverly’s shapely bottom, clad in briefly cut flimsy panties. He sucked his breath in at the lovely vision before him, the full twin rounded cheeks wobbling as she squirmed over his lap.

“You need a good spanking, Beverly, and I’m going to give it to you. Then we’ll see about rejoining the party.”

What? She needed spanking? Before she could process this, she felt the first sharp splat! of Ward’s palm impacting her bottom. The several more smacks stung her behind.

“Ow! Ward, no. Stop.” It stung, really stung.

But Ward was just getting started. He planted a few more exploratory spanks, testing the resilience of her bottom. Then he settled into a tempo that rained brisk spanks on the lovely rounded orbs every half second or so. A steady tattoo of smack! smack! smack! resounded sharply in the small bedroom.

Beverly writhed and tried putting her hand back to protect her stinging bottom. It was really getting hot back there. Ward just grabbed her hand and held it in the small of her back.

“No, no, no, Beverly. This spanking is going to continue. And what’s more, I’m going to make it memorable.” Ward paused. Beverly wondered what he was doing until she felt his fingers in the elastic of her panties.

“Ward, no, don’t take my panties down! No!” She wriggled frantically but Ward was undeterred. He slid the flimsy panties down baring the lovely cheeks which now bore pink handprints. Time to really teach my girlfriend a lesson, thought Ward.

Ward beheld the bottom underneath his palm. It quivered lasciviously. He gave her nude cheeks a brisk smack! The flesh rippled in response. Then another and another. He increased the tempo. Her bottom bounded, the jouncy cheeks wobbled, absorbing the crisp smacks and changing color to a brighter red.

Yow! This really stings. Her quivering bottom continued to absorb sharp smacks from Ward’s capable palm. But a part of her welcomed the humiliating chastisement. She was becoming aroused by the heat in her bottom which spread to her pelvic region. Ward’s utter mastery of her was contributing too. Had she deliberately acted the bratty schoolgirl to provoke Ward? But the blazing fire in her behind was overwhelming her ability to reflect on her real motives.

The scene must have looked like a bizarre Benny Hill skit -- Ward, clad in his headmaster’s gown, holding the lush Beverly across his knee, her abbreviated schoolgirl skirt flipped up and her panties pulled down to her knees, her cheeky bare bottom on full display absorbing smack after smack from Ward’s punishing palm. Beverly wriggled and kicked, desperately seeking relief from the relentless smacking.

Beverly’s bottom cheeks were really glowing now and Ward decided that she was probably reaching the limit of her ability to deal with the stinging before she broke down. He didn’t want that. He just wanted to teach her a sharp lesson. But as he eased off he noticed moisture between the lips of her vagina, which had been impossible to ignore with her humping up and down. In fact the humping looked a lot like arousal. With a few more well placed splats he stopped.

“Can you behave now?” he asked resting his hand on her bottom.

“Arghh…ah,” she gurgled, subdued now. “Y-yes, Ward. I’m sorry.” If nothing else, the spanking had sobered her up. He stood her on her feet. Her hands rushed to her inflamed bottom. She rubbed vigorously and shifted from foot to foot, a naughty schoolgirl, duly punished.

“Ow, my gosh! Y-you spanked me! For real!!” She regarded Ward with something like awe.

“Yes, I did,” he said patiently. “You deserved it.”

“Ohhh…” she moaned and continued to rub. At the same time she felt really turned on. What to do now?

Beverly put herself back together. Ward took her by the arm and they returned to the party. As they descended the stairs, the same slender blonde and her friend observed the couple. Beverly’s eyes were red and she walked rather gingerly.

“Hmm… I’d say our little schoolgirl has been to the principal’s office,’ she remarked.

“More like the woodshed, I’d say,” said her friend. “I’d have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that.” As they walked past the friend caught Beverly absently rubbing her behind. “Yep, definitely the woodshed.”

They didn’t stay long after that. Ward made a final circuit of the room, shaking hands, saying good byes. Beverly accompanied him smiling politely. She was completely sober now as a result of the sharp spanking. Her bottom felt toasty warm and the heat was beginning to affect her in another way too. She was fully lubricated and turned on sexually. Her nipples felt hard and she was flushed.

When they were about to leave Ward turned to her with a look of concern. He’d been very nice to her after he’d spanked her, but still very much in control. “Look I was angry. How do you feel?”

Beverly clutched his arm and whispered. “My fanny is burning; but, I admit, I was out of line. But Ward, I don’t want to go home.”

Ward’s eyebrows raised. “No? Where do you want to go?”

“Your place. Now.”

As soon as they were inside Ward’s condo apartment, Beverly flew into his arms and they kissed passionately. Items of clothing dropped all the way to the bedroom, and by the time Beverly was supine on Ward’s bed she was naked. Ward wasn’t far behind. All of Beverly’s pent up sexual frustration was unleashed upon Ward, to his delight. Their coupling was at first fast and furious, then slow and sensuous. Ward knew how to slow down and build sensation on top of sensation until Beverly was practically screaming with pleasure. Especially intense for Beverly was when Ward placed her on all fours and entered her from behind, kneading and patting her still-red buttocks as he thrust himself against the resilient globes until both came again in a shattering climax.

When they finally rested, Ward propped his head up with his hand and said, “I don’t know what came over you tonight.”

Beverly giggled. “I don’t either, but I liked the outcome---even though I did get my hiney spanked hard, you awful man.”

“Listen, you deserved it. That schoolgirl act. What was I supposed to do with you?” Ward grinned, but he was still perplexed.

“Oh, Ward, I wanted you weeks ago, but you were so old fashioned. I just decided to hurry things along,” she said with an exasperated sigh. Men. They could be so dense.

Now Ward frowned. “You mean all that acting out at the party was deliberate so I would be forced to whisk you off somewhere to make you behave?”

“Well, I didn’t know that you would actually spank me.” Beverly pouted and tossed her head. “I thought I’d get you alone and then….you know,” she added coquettishly.

Ward sat upright now, giving this his full attention. “I ought to spank you again for pulling that stunt just to tease me. People are going to be talking for weeks now.”

“Oh, now wait a minute, Ward.” Beverly shrank back. “I’m already pretty sore from tonight.” Wow, he looked serious.

Ward studied her. “Alright,” he said shaking a finger at her, “For now, that is. But you have an upcoming appointment with me in the principal’s office.”

Beverly shivered with both trepidation and excitement.

That appointment is scheduled for the end of the week. Don't miss it!

From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, part 3

We continue with Rollin Hand's Beverly and the Principal. Beverly has learned what a paddling from the principal feels like, and now it's her rebellious daughter's turn. (Reread parts 1 and 2 here and here.)

Friday afternoon came too soon for Haley. She was seated in the office at 3:30 waiting for her mother and looking very apprehensive. Beverly eventually arrived and the school secretary ushered them into the principal’s office. She smiled at Ward McCollum to let him know there were no hard feelings from the previous day. Just checking, she glanced at his left hand. There was no ring. She looked at his desk and credenza, but there were no pictures of a wife or children. Ward McCollum was indeed a bachelor.

“Haley, Mrs. Clawson, please sit.” Ward gestured, then picked up a file. As he leafed through it he frowned. “Haley, this indicates a fourth detention in only three months. We have a serious issue here. Do you have any explanation for your behavior?”

Haley’s response was typical teenager---a shrug, a lame excuse or two and a denial of responsibility.

McCollum sighed. “Haley, please wait outside while I speak with your mother.” When she had shut the door behind her, McCollum began. “I know we talked a little yesterday but can you tell me what is going on with her? I notice from her record at her previous school she was an A student with no adverse behavior record. I checked.”

Beverly told him more about Haley’s problems with the divorce and the move. McCollum listened patiently, asking a question or two, but mostly letting her get it all out. Beverly found that she liked talking to this man. He really was kind and sympathetic. McCollum nodded. “I do understand how you feel, Beverly, but if I may say so, Haley has to stop feeling sorry for herself and move on.” Beverly nodded. He was right.

“What I’m going to say now is going to be hard for you to hear, but I think the situation calls for it. Haley has been treated with kid gloves for too long. It’s time the gloves came off and she resumes growing up. That means accepting consequences. Beverly, I’m going to recommend that you sign that corporal punishment form. Since you, ah, know what it’s like, you can make an informed decision now, but my advice is to sign it.”

Beverly’s head snapped up. Oh yeah, she knew now. It had hurt like blazes, but once the initial shock had worn off, it hadn’t been so bad. And for her at least there was something else. The glow in her nether regions had transformed into something sexual. She’d wandered around in an aroused state replaying the incident over and over in her head. While she was woolgathering, Ward had continued.

“I think Haley should be paddled. I really do. It is what happens here when we see this pattern of offenses, and it is the normal consequence. If you don’t, I’ll have to suspend her and that will impact her grades. Because of…yesterday, you, ahem, know what’s involved, so you can assess whether she can take it.”

Of course she could take it. A sharp sting, that’s all it was, and it would put Haley back on the right path. “I think she can,” said Beverly. “If I can take it, so can she. I don’t want her suspended and just left home alone. But Haley has never been spanked or anything. She’s always been a good girl.”

McCollum smiled sympathetically. “And she will be again, but all youngsters have to learn that flouting rules brings penalties and she doesn’t get a pass just because life has been tough lately.”

Beverly had to agree. She signed the form. They called Haley back in. “Haley, your mother and I have decided. You will not be suspended from school. Instead you are going to receive the paddle---six swats. Right here. Right now.”

Haley’s head swung around to look at her mother incredulously. “Mother, you didn’t! How could you?” The color drained out of her face. Principal McCollum sat there impassively.

“I’m sorry, Haley, but you brought this on yourself. A suspension is not possible. I can’t come home to supervise you during the day.” She looked at her daughter earnestly and took her hand, holding it with both of hers. “I’m sorry Haley, but you will just have to take your licks.”

Haley was shocked that it had come to this. She sat there barely breathing as McCollum buzzed his secretary. “Mrs. Frankel, can you come in? We need a witness. Oh, and bring the book.” McCollum stood and rolled up his right sleeve. Mrs. Frankel entered.

“All right Haley, stand up.” Haley stood as if in a daze. “Lean on the desk, on your elbows, palms flat. Look at that circle on the wall.” Indeed Beverly saw there was a piece of paper stuck to the wall with a circle inscribed on it. Haley assumed the position. She was wearing tight jeans and the bent posture thrust her buttocks out, the jeans clearly delineating the rounded globes of her youthful bottom.

The wooden paddle was hanging on the wall, right where it had been the day before. McCollum unhooked it and moved to Haley’s rear.

“Haley, it will be six swats. Do not move out of position. If you do we may have to do that one over. Keep perfectly still. Feet a little more apart.” Haley shuffled her feet. “That’s right.” The principal measured the distance, patting Haley’s behind gently with the paddle. He drew back and brought his arm forward in a smooth motion, like he’d done this before.

Crack! the paddle smacked the seat of Haley’s jeans.

“Ow!” Haley’s yelp confirmed how that paddle could burn.

“That’s one,” said McCollum. He drew back again.

Crack! Another swat struck Haley’s bottom.

“Yeow…oh!” Haley shifted her weight from one foot to the other. McCollum waited a minute then drew back again.

Crack! Haley stood on tiptoe and wailed, “ahhh….ow!..nng!”

To Beverly it was an intense eye-opening scene. On the one hand she felt for her poor daughter. From the sound of it, it must sting atrociously. Hell, she knew it did. But it didn’t look like he was hitting that hard. He had this medium-slow smooth delivery with a little wrist flick at the end. Then she understood. He didn’t hit hard on purpose. It was just enough to generate a sharp sting, just enough pain so the student would know that there are consequences. From the other side of the desk, Beverly heard sobs. She knew what it felt like. Her own bottom tingled in silent sympathy.

“Three more, Haley.” The principal hefted the paddle, swung his arm in a sideways arc. Crack! It was sharp like a gunshot.

“Ow…ow….oh…my…” yelped Haley bobbing up and down slightly.

“Steady, now. Only two more, Haley.”

Haley actually said, “Yes, sir,” and bent back down.

Crack! Crack! The last two came rapidly. Haley lifted up on tiptoe and let out a wail.

“All right, you can stand up now.” Beverly breathed again. It was done. Haley stood, vigorously rubbing her bottom. She had tears in her eyes. “Sit down if you want, but you need to sign the book.”

Haley stood. Apparently one had to sign for the swats, like it was a receipt or something. Haley signed and Beverly hugged her daughter. Then she actually shook hands with Mr. McCollum. It was as if something dark had lifted. Not much was said on the way home. Haley went to her room.

Beverly came in later and asked if she could rub cold cream on Haley’s bottom. Haley said that would be nice. Her butt was red but not bruised. Haley said the cold cream helped.

Beverly was left alone with her thoughts. She could not get the scene in the principal’s office out of her mind. As the weekend passed Beverly noted that the paddling seemed to have produced a catharsis in Haley. She was less sullen, more her old self. A short sharp shock. It had apparently worked.

Paddlings have a way of changing attitudes. How will Beverly thank the principal? Stay tuned for more.

From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, part 2

Beverly wants to find out what a paddling from the principal feels like before she signs the permission to paddle form for her unruly daughter. To refresh your memory, here's part 1. Now let's see how Beverly reacts to school discipline.

What do you wear to a paddling, thought Bev? She was nervous, but determined to go through with it, at least for Haley’s sake. That way she could tell herself that she hadn’t put her daughter through anything that she hadn’t experienced too. And there was the nagging guilt---that it was partly her fault.

She finally decided on workout tights. She’d be coming back from her gym class anyway, so she might as well meet him in her gym tights. No real need to change.

On Thursday after her workout she checked her appearance. She wore her normal workout gear--- black knee length stretch tights and a top. They fitted her hourglass figure like a glove, she decided, looking back over her shoulder into the mirror. The rounded twin globes of her bottom were clearly defined and separated by the tight synthetic fabric. For a top she wore a halter. Well, I guess that will give him a good target, she sighed. Time to go.

The school parking lot was empty when she got there. It was nearly seven o’clock. Only one other car---his. Nervously, she walked in. She could see a light on in the office. She knocked.

“Is that you, Mrs. Clawson, er, Beverly?” asked a voice from within.

“Um, y-yes, it’s me.” Cripes! This was crazy, she was now thinking.

Ward came to the door and motioned her to come in. “Please, come on in. Let’s talk.” Beverly entered and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. It seemed intimidating. She now had a feeling of what a student might feel like called in to account for some bit of bad behavior.

“Well, I see you actually came. I have to ask, are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Beverly shook her head, yes. “I feel as though I must—for two reasons, really. First, I want to know what this will be like for Haley, this paddling. And second, despite what you may think, Haley’s acting out is my fault in a big way. So, yes, let’s get on with it.”

Ward studied her for a moment. “Well, I’m done trying to talk you out of it, and I do understand, and if this is what it takes, then, well---ah, stand up and slip your jacket off.” Ward stood. Sexy and authoritative men made her all fluttery, and Ward was no exception. Beverly rose and took her warm up jacket off, revealing her curvy body clad now in tights and a halter top. Ward did a double take.

The lady had curves in all the right places. He turned and moved toward the wall. Beverly hadn’t noticed, but now she did. There was a paddle hanging on the wall by a leather loop. Ward retrieved it.

“Standard two foot maple paddle. Four inches wide, three quarters of an inch thick.” He showed it to her. Beverly gulped. It looked serious. This was going to hurt. She took it in her hands. It felt heavy.

She handed it back. Ward took it.

“OK, Beverly, what I want you to do is bend forward over the desk right here, supported on your elbows, palms down flat. Feet about a foot apart.” He watched as she bent forward. The posture thrust her shapely posterior outward in an almost indecent pose. Wow, did this lady have a figure or what? Her heart shaped bottom was clearly defined in the tight stretch pants. He took the paddle and moved to her left, took up a stance and pressed the wood against the jutting rump. She flinched, then settled back down as he gently tapped her bottom with the paddle.

“Now, please stay still, Beverly. Best to look straight ahead.” He rubbed the paddle on her bottom in circles, measuring.

Beverly tried to calm herself. This was it. “I’m ready,” she said.

Ward drew back and brought the paddle forward in a smooth arc. Whack! It landed square across the center of Beverly’s bottom.

“Ah…ohhhh….my God!” It had stung like fire. A hot brand right across her seat. She’d had no idea!

Whack! The second swat fell. She flinched, partially raising up.

“Ohhh…..whew! That stings.” The burning was quite intense.

“I know it does, Beverly. This is what it’s like. Stay still now, here’s number three.” Ward drew back his arm again and pivoted forward, the blade whooshing through the still air of the office. Splat! The paddle impacted the shapely rump again making her wriggle involuntarily.

“Yeow!” She had to let out a wail, it stung so bad. Her eyes were tearing up.

Ward noticed how her ass cheeks quivered when the paddle hit. The tights looked painted on, and the twin globes of her luscious bottom were clearly outlined. To steady her Ward put his hand in the small of her back. Then he delivered the fourth smack to her burning bottom. She cried out again and stamped her feet as if that could somehow relieve the awful burning.

“Only two more,” said Ward. “Are you ready? Can you take this?”

Beverly composed herself as best she could. “Yes, I can take it,” she gasped. Her bottom was burning hot, but she felt somewhat at peace, being rightfully punished for her inattention to her daughter’s needs.

Whap! The fifth swat was the most painful yet and Beverly let out a wail and wagged her behind shamelessly. The sight of the paddle bouncing off of the bottom of this mature well formed woman in tights was causing Ward to be seriously aroused. Better finish this, he thought.

Smack! The last swat echoed off the walls.

“Owww!....ohhh, my God!” Beverly raised up on tiptoe. Her behind was blazing like it been branded.

“Ok,” said Ward. “It’s over. You can get up. Please let me help you.”

Bev rose on unsteady legs. Her behind was on fire, her eyes filled with tears. She rubbed her bottom.

“Ah…ah…ah…” she gulped.

“Beverly, would you like a tissue?” Ward was now very solicitous.

“Yes, yes.” She took the tissue and wiped her eyes.

“The rest room is just down the hall if you want,” offered Ward.

“I’m ok,” she fluttered. “Just give me a minute.” Her seat was blazing hot and felt swollen. She decided to stop rubbing and even tried to sit down, but thought better of it.

Ward put the paddle back on the hook. “That is the standard school paddling, Beverly. Just like a student would get. Although in your case I think you had less protection. Most kids wear jeans over underwear.” It hadn’t escaped his notice that under the thin spandex there had been no panty line. She’d probably worn a thong.

Beverly blushed at the implication. She found her voice. “I’m ok, and although it hurt a great deal, I’m ok. I don’t regret doing it.”

“Well, I’m glad of that,” said Ward.

Later she felt as if the pain had cleansed her in some way. It faded to a warm glow, but she was sore for a while. Soon other thoughts intruded into her consciousness, sexy thoughts involving a certain handsome principal.

Aha! I thought she might have enjoyed that.

From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, part 1

After a much too long hiatus while I dusted and sorted the naughty books on my top shelf, I'm happy to say I have a lovely story to start for you today. It's from the late Rollin Hand's The Romance of Spanking Vol. 2, and long ago he gave me permission to post his stories here. "Beverly and the Principal" is a schoolgirl spanking story but, as with all Rollin's stories, there's a twist, as you will guess from the opening paragraph. It's a rather long story so I have broken it up into five parts. Without further ado, I give you part 1.

BEVERLY AND THE PRINCIPAL

The “schoolgirl” stood nervously in front of the desk as the Principal lectured her about her behavior. She wore an abbreviated plaid skirt that ended several inches above the knee, displaying the taut lines of her shapely legs. Her breasts pushed against the tight white blouse in front and her pert bottom jutted out in back. Her hands were behind her back and she shuffled nervously from foot to foot. The principal finished the scolding and slid open a drawer. Inside was a short wooden paddle. It had a legend on it that said “Heat for the Seat”. He pointed to the desk.

The schoolgirl reluctantly leaned over, placing her elbows on the desk. The Principal moved to her rear, gripping the little paddle. Placing it under his arm, he used both hands to raise the schoolgirl’s skirt in back. He paused a moment to admire the plump and shapely bottom clad in brief white panties. Tucking the paddle under his arm to free his hands, The Principal placed his thumbs in the elastic of the panties and, ignoring the protests from the “schoolgirl”, drew them down to her knees. The unveiling revealed the lush rounded globes of a most shapely posterior. He patted the lush cheeks then stood to her side and tapped her with the paddle. Then he drew back his arm.

Three months earlier…..

The envelope from the school was thick—too thick to be good news. Beverly decided to go inside and make a cup of coffee before she even dared open it. Now sitting in her breakfast nook she sighed and slit the bulky package. “Damn!” she muttered. Another referral notice telling her that Haley, her sixteen year old daughter was in trouble yet again. This was the fourth one in as many months. This time it was another tardy. She hadn’t bothered to go to her 6th period history class after gym, so she’d been awarded another detention. But there was more. As she sifted through the papers she reflected on the whys of Hailey’s conduct this year.

The divorce had been hard on them all. After years of constant bickering over every little thing she and Rick had called it quits. They were too different---irreconcilable differences. It was a no go. Beverly moved from the sophistication of Dallas to the smaller town of Hot Springs, Arkansas that had job opportunities in her field, which was hospitality. Haley had hated the move. She lost all of her friends, and now had to start all over in a culture very different from the city. And it had led to acting out. Around the house Haley sulked. She either talked back or was sullen and moody.

It had been a shock to Beverly. Haley had been a straight A student, never a sign of trouble, no boys issues, drugs, or even profanity. She had been a quiet good girl, serious about her studies. And that was in spite of the fact that she was cute as a button and attracted considerable male attention. Now Haley seemed adrift. There was no major trouble yet, but if this reckless behavior of hers wasn’t stopped, there would be. Beverly was no disciplinarian, she’d never had to be. From the looks of things in this packet though, the school was stepping in.

The fact was, Beverly had to admit to herself, she been inadequate to control Haley’s behavior because she was having trouble controlling her own. Chores went undone. The house was a mess. She worked all day, went to her gym, came home and collapsed. Bills were paid late if at all. She realized she’d been hitting the wine bottle heavier and heavier lately. Trying to numb out? She pulled a sheaf of papers from the envelope. There was a notice calling for a parent conference with Ward McCollum, the principal. That sounded serious. It would be Friday afternoon. Damn, she’d have to take off from work.

There was another form, a different color. It was a permission form. It said “Corporal Punishment Consent Form”. Stapled to it was a one page sheet that said “Corporal Punishment Policies and Procedures.” My word, thought Beverly—what was this? As she read further, the meaning became apparent. Having been given three detentions now for various infractions, Haley was now subject to corporal punishment should a fourth appear. She read the letter from the school signed by Principal McCollum. It said that Haley could be suspended for this last infraction. In lieu of suspension she could submit to corporal punishment. This was to be one of the subjects to be taken up at the conference. Hence, the permission form and the guidelines.

Her mouth agape, Bev read on. Punishment was meted out with a paddle. The normal penalty, six swats. The student was to wear slacks or jeans as normal, no extra padding. A witness from the school staff would be present and parents could be present, and in fact were encouraged to be there. Good grief, it had all the grim formality of a hanging.

Bev put the letter down. What should she do? It was her decision as parent. Haley probably wouldn’t mind about the suspension. Maybe she wouldn’t even care. They had never raised a hand to Haley---it hadn’t been necessary. But as things had turned out she was now falling. Where would it end? Bev set her jaw. Maybe a short sharp shock right now would turn things around.

She would think about it. She hadn’t been able to parent very effectively, lost as she was in her own problems and self pity. It was really her fault that it gotten to this point with Haley. Her thoughts were interrupted by the clunk of the door opening and footsteps. It was Haley.

“Do you know what this is?” asked Beverly, thrusting the packet toward her. Haley’s face changed abruptly from bright teenager to chagrinned teenager. She had known intuitively what the packet was-- -a notice from the school. “We have to meet with Principal McCollum on Friday afternoon. And I’m afraid there is worse news, Haley.”

Haley squirmed, her expression both guilty and apprehensive. “Under the school rules you can bepaddled for this.” That got Haley’s attention.

“What? Paddled? You can’t be serious!” Haley was incredulous. She had heard stories here and there, but it was always about someone else.

“I’m afraid so, Haley. It’s a fourth detention. Skipping class. Where were you? You weren’t off school grounds were you?”

Haley’s guilty look told Beverly she’d hit the nail on the head. “You left the school in the middle of the day? To go where?” Bev was angry now.

“It was nothing, mother. Just to the drive in, then right back.” Haley was wheedling now, wringing her hands, which she realized had been caught in the proverbial cookie jar.

“I’m of half a mind to sign this ‘permission to paddle’ form right now, Haley Elizabeth.”

Haley’s expression changed from concern to horror. “Oh, mother, no please don’t. I’d just die.” She put her hands up as if warding off an evil spell.

Bev pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m going to think about this, Haley, and I’ll decide when we meet with principal McCollum.”

What Beverly was really thinking about was her own culpability. A paddling. What would that feel like? If Haley were to be paddled, I should be paddled too, she mused grimly. It’s almost as much my fault as hers. If I’d been a better wife, and a better mother, maybe this would not have turned out this way. The very idea was oddly intriguing, but she didn’t understand why. Beverly’s experience with any type of physical punishment was limited to a few swats on the backside from an irate mother. In her family scolding and being sent to her room had been the means of discipline.

The principal, one Ward McCollum, was, in Beverly’s opinion, a pretty good looking male. Beverly had met him at a parent-teacher conference. They had talked for a time and she had been impressed.

She had also heard that he was a bachelor. And he seemed very nice. It was hard to envision him as a stern disciplinarian wielding a wooden paddle. Still, she had this thought and she could not let it go.

The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that maybe she needed something like this to get her to wake up. She made up her mind. She would talk to the principal before the meeting.

As things are wont to do, serendipity intervened. In this case at the local food mart. Several days later she was shopping for groceries. There in the checkout line was Ward McCollum. He saw her and smiled. “Mrs. Clawson, how are you?” She felt slightly flustered. He was definitely an attractive man.

Beverly nervously brushed her hair back. Did she look ok? Bev knew she was a good looking woman. At 5’6”, she had auburn hair that fell below her shoulders and a 35-23-36 figure that she kept in good shape at a local gym.

“Oh, Mr. McCollum. I didn’t see you,” she lied. “I’m uh, fine.”

He came forward. “Please, it’s Ward. We’re too small a community here to be formal.”

“Yes, of course, ah, Ward. Please call me Bev.” Good grief, she was fluttering like one of his schoolgirls.

“Let’s see, your daughter is Haley, right? Say would you join me for a cup of coffee? I know you got that letter, and well, I’d like to talk to you about it, informally, if it’s ok.”

Bev thought this was a chance to raise something she’d been mulling over. “Sure. I’ll just check out.”

“There’s a shop on the next corner. I’ll meet you there.”

They got a table in the coffee shop and exchanged pleasantries for a few moments. Then Ward said, “I know what’s on your mind. It’s the letter and our upcoming conference, isn’t it?”

Bev had been mulling the matter over ever since the letter had arrived, and now she had to ask. “About my daughter Haley, yes. In your letter you said that normally a student would get a paddling for the fourth offense, is that right?”

McCollum sighed and nodded. “Yes. It’s not something we like to do, but sometimes we run out of options and a short, sharp shock is what is called for. Haley, unfortunately, has reached that threshold.

I don’t like to recommend corporal punishment, but we do have standards. It’s got to be that or a suspension.”

Beverly shook her head. “I just can’t deal with a suspension, and it would set Haley back too much. So, this paddling, just how many paddle swats is it and what is it like?”

“For this, six. The student bends across the desk. I apply the swats right on the round part of the sit spot. I will tell you it hurts, but they get over it in a day or two.”

Beverly sat there, thinking. “It’s my fault she got in this trouble. I’ve been preoccupied with myself. I’ve let things go with Haley.”

“Look, Mrs….”

“Please, Mr. McCollum, Ward… it’s Beverly. We never laid a hand on Haley. She’s never even had a spanking. She’s always been very well behaved.”

McCollum said earnestly, “Ok, Beverly, but, look, you can’t beat yourself up. Sometimes kids do things. It’s up to us adults to put them back on the right path…even if it’s sometimes painful, both for us and for them.”

Beverly had told herself she was going to propose this crazy idea. Well, here he was, and here she was. She said, “Yes, yes, I know but….look, if I ask you something, will you promise not to think I’m a complete kook?”

“Sure. Ask away.”

Bev took a deep breath. “Before I consign Haley to this, ah, punishment, I need to know…”

“You need to know what Beverly?” Ward was perplexed. Where was this headed? She seemed flustered.

Bev looked at him shyly and said, “I need to know what I’d be getting her into. Whether she could handle it, both emotionally and physically. You see, I’m as much to blame and I couldn’t approve this punishment unless I….”

Ward looked at her with arched eyebrows.

“…unless I experienced it first.” There. She got it out on the table.

Ward sat back. Ran his hand through his hair. “Well, Bev, that is certainly one unusual request.” He was silent for a minute, thinking.

Bev jumped in. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. It’s something I need to do.”

Ward cleared his throat. “It’s six licks with a wooden paddle firmly applied to the seat. Uh, do you maybe have a friend who could…?”

“No,” said Bev, calmly. “I’ve thought about it, and I want you to do it.” She had already decided this. If it was to be real, she wanted the authority figure who would paddle her daughter to paddle her as well.

Ward absorbed this little declaration with a bit of a shock. “I, uh, really Bev, this is, well, highly unusual, wouldn’t you say?”

But Bev was all business now. “I know it is, but I insist. It’s necessary.”

Ward pursed his lips. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Beverly was very attractive and the idea of such a scene with an adult woman, well…

“I’ll tell you what. I hate to go all legal and everything but if you sign…”

She interrupted. “I’ll sign anything you want. I need you to do this so I can decide about Haley. Please.”

Ward finally agreed. It would be a standard school paddling. They would do it after hours on Thursday, then Bev would decide on the permission slip, suspension or paddling, by their meeting the following day.

I can hardly wait for Thursday!

From the Top Shelf - Designs

Here's a portion of a naughty tale I found on the late Rollin Hand's blog. It's by an author named Jean Marie and shows how in a pickup bar you CAN get lucky.

He sized her up from afar, or at least as far as the crowded club would allow.

She was here alone, not with a group, or worse, a girlfriend. She wasn’t here for just a drink, or just a dance. She was here to find a fuck.

She was blonde and passably pretty, she’d be popular to hit on. All the drunken playboys were wondering if her carpet matched her platinum drapes. And longing to find out, just as he was longing to find out, but, unlike all the rest, he wasn’t interested in just her twat. Was she interested in just her twat, or something more?

She had nice tits, but wasn’t using them. She wore a black turtleneck, as opposed to the low-cut tops every other girl was wearing. They were shaking their tits like shimmering bait before the open mouths of all these hungry fish, these slimy bass, these bottom-feeding carp. She didn’t seem to want to reel any ol’ whopper in. She wasn’t even sticking her treasure chest out.

She was arching her lower back, and so sticking her round rump out, half way off her bar chair, in fact. Jake guessed that she was proud of this fine asset, but no one else seemed to take particular notice. He did, and not merely because he was more of an ass aficionado than a tit man.

He moved in closer, still cautious and silent, but stalking now. He sat at the bar, a few feet from her table. He watched the parade of guys approach, try out their best opening lines, and get rebuffed. Another guy would have been worried; so many guys showing so much interest. Not Jake. Each attempt made him more confident that he knew this girl. He saw that she wanted to find a fuck on her terms.

There was a lull in the action; perhaps she’d discouraged the entire bar by now. Now it was his turn. He slid off his stool, and sat where so many had sat before; the upholstery was warm, though no one had occupied the chair for more than fifteen seconds each.

She looked at him through lowered, long eyelashes. Her glance seemed to convey a challenge. She resembled the film noir star Veronica Lake; no, more accurately, a pale Jessica Rabbit. His level stare seemed to announce assurance. He thought of himself as a beefier Bogart, or a slimmer Robert Mitchum from a by-gone era, no cartoon character sprang to mind.

“I have designs on your ass,” he said simply.

Suzie liked that the line was old school, like this early thirty-something dude was reincarnated from some late thirties style hood. She liked that he’d had the balls to mention her ass right up front; it made her squirm ever so slightly on her seat. She perched her heart-shaped bottom on one hip, like her ample understanding needed a breeze, her butt cheeks needed a breather, her vagina needed ventilation. Was it getting hot in here, was it this sweater and wool skirt, or was it him?

“What?” she replied, leaving the door open that had slammed shut for everyone else at this juncture.

“I said that I have designs on your gorgeous ass, or rather, I’d like to put some designs on your gorgeous ass…”

He was talking her language, but she tried not to let him know it. For the first time that evening, for the first time in a long time, she didn’t have a ready come-back. She drained her wine glass, both to cover the silence and to soothe her suddenly parched throat.

“May I buy you another?”

She nodded.

He caught a waiter’s eye before finishing off his Rusty Nail. “A bottle of Crystal, please. What’s your oldest vintage?”

“I’ll have to check,” the boy floundered and disappeared.

Suzie also struggled to keep her composure, hoping that her eyebrows weren’t raised to her hairline. She attempted her most enigmatic smile.

The inept sommelier returned in a rush, “A ’67,” he stammered, “and it costs…”

“We’ll take it,” Jake interrupted, handing him his magic plastic. “That’s a very good year; I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” she smiled more broadly. She was about to retrace the conversation back to how he’d opened it, but the wine arrived. A big production ensued; the opening, tasting and pouring. It was several minutes until they were again alone.

Suzie took more than a sip and felt it go straight to her head. She no longer felt in control, but uncharacteristically in this setting, didn’t mind.

“Do you like it?” he asked just as smoothly as everything else.

“Very much.” and she took another gulp.

“Like I said, an excellent year. I’m guessing that you and the champagne share about the same birth date.”

She found that she could do nothing more than laugh at his cheek. “So far, you’ve mentioned my ass and my age, and I don’t even know your name yet. Care to bring up religion or politics, too, just to keep it controversial?”

“I’m Jake,” he said genially, shaking her hand, “and am I right?”

Nonplussed, she blushed and replied, “I’m Suzie. Yes, I’m twenty-nine, in a little more than a week I’ll turn thirty…” She expected him to say something complimentary, such as the fact that she didn’t look it.

He didn’t. “And about the other?” he persisted.

“What…?” she giggled and simultaneously blushed.

“Your bottom; it is gorgeous, and it does need a design imprinted upon it,” he matter-of-factly stated. Now that we’ve ascertained that your birthday is eminent, I suppose a celebratory birthday spanking is in order.”

The fool of a waiter approached yet again, this time with the credit card bill to sign.

“Why don’t you keep that open,” he said kindly to the bumbling idiot, “we might run a tab.”

“No. Close it, and take me home,” Suzie whispered, looking down at the table top.

She avoided eye contact while the valet brought his car around; Jake having taken control effortlessly yet again to inform her that he’d drive her back to pick up her car in the morning. Of course it was an antique sports car that screeched up to the curb; Suzie had hoped it’d be an old junker to puncture his James Bond-like suavity. The valet closed her door with a muffled “thunk” that bespoke how expensive the thing must be. She held the nearly full bottle of champagne in her hand, not wanting to leave it behind to go to waste. But the fat mushroom of a cork had proven impossible to reinsert, so Suzie now grew paranoid about having an open container in the car, in case they were pulled over by a cop. She wanted desperately to take a swig, but felt drunk enough already. She wanted desperately to fish a smoke out of the pack in her purse, but didn’t know if he’d object. She realized that she’d never worried about what a man would think of her on any one-night stand before, and wondered if, subconsciously, she didn’t want this to turn out to be more than just a one-night stand. She stared out the window, then felt moved to break the oppressive silence.

“My roommate, Monica, wanted to go out to the Vault tonight,” Suzie said almost to herself, mentioning a well known D/s club. “But I turned her down, not wanting to spectate on some scene where another girl gets her bottom whipped good for her.” Suzie edited herself from saying her next thought, which continued by stating flatly that her own round butt needed it so badly. “I said that I was gonna go to the Viper Room. ‘What chance have you got of finding a non-vanilla guy there?’ my roommate asked. I replied that I didn’t know, but that anything was possible. I guess it is…”

Jake was through shifting through the gears, and Suzie took his hand in hers and squeezed it, still avoiding his eyes. She gave him directions off the expressway to her apartment. Her whole body tingled, especially her bottom on the leather upholstery.

She opened the lock to her front door, but he waited and held it open for her. She walked over to the kitchenette and picked up two glasses, then led him to her bedroom, and closed the door. He sat on the bed as if right at home.

“You know, I don’t do this with just anybody,” she said nervously, conscious as she did that they didn’t know one another’s last names.

Jake refrained from saying that he knew, that he’d passed the test by referring to her ass and a spanking in the same breath. Instead he told her, “Put down the bottle and come here.”

As she obeyed, Suzie wished that he’d just grabbed her, yanked her over his knee, held her in place and did it. Like the rape fantasies that she harbored, she felt better about her kink if she didn’t have to comply.

He gently but firmly took her wrist, helped her lay face down half across his lap and half on her mattress. His hand kept control of her wrist as it encircled her waist, while the other rested on her derriere.

“Now… first, to address that birthday of yours next week… thirty, is it? …please count these in a nice loud voice.”

Jake knew from experience that it was best to talk first; to discuss limits and a safe word and favorite things and turn-offs. But he also knew that most women wanted to avoid all this, wanting the dominant to be amazingly clairvoyant, and magically discipline her to perfection. So Jake had taken to simply punishing the girl to his taste, any way that he saw fit. He’d never had any complaints.

Thirty firm spanks were administered slowly and methodically to the seat of Suzie’s skirt. She was able to enumerate each one shortly after it landed, but also enunciated some small yelps and seductive coos and whimpered moans near the end.

No sooner had she cried out, “Thirty!” and stifled the tears that sprang from her ducts, then Jake set her on her feet, and looked up into her sorrowful baby blues.

“You broke the law by bringing that champagne in my car. I’m going to take your skirt off and put you back over my knee for another dose.”

As she turned around to comply, lifted her hands up impotently as if being robbed, and felt him undo the zipper, Suzie thought about an old boyfriend. Sam had always made her take her own clothing off before and during discipline. She’d complained about it, saying it was sexier to be man-handled. Now she knew that she was right; she loved the business-like manner with which Jake undid the clasp, pulled down the zipper, lowered the skirt to the floor for her to step out of, then repositioned her efficiently. It all made the gusset of her panties even wetter.

So smooth was the operation, Suzie was half way over his knee again before blurting out, “Wait, let me take this off, too, I’m sweating.”

He helped her pull the waistband of the sweater over her head in one continuous motion. She tossed her tresses back and then lay down fully into the requested position. She noticed that he folded both her skirt then her sweater neatly and put each on her pillow. She swooned, remembering how often she’d had to pick up Sam’s soiled underwear from off the floor. This guy was a metrosexual, but if he continued spanking her the way he’d started, and could get it up to fuck her afterwards, she didn’t care if he spoke with a lisp and wore a necktie for a belt with Capri pants.

“Breaking the motor vehicle code is a serious offense, and I’m the one who would’ve been cited for it. This is going to have to be hard…” his no-nonsense voice decreed. Half-listening, she hoped that he would notice her matching black satin and lace bra and panties.

It was, the spanking, not the lingerie, hard. It stung right from the first swat, and hurt horrendously once he got rolling. It went on and on, until Suzie had to give in to the tears that brimmed her long eyelashes, and the lump in her throat that tried valiantly to choke back her sobs. He spanked her satin-encased tush mercilessly, relentlessly, until she was convinced that he was cruel. But he also spanked dispassionately, as if squeezing ripe cantaloupe in the grocery, instead of working a poor girl into a state of frenzy. It hurt so badly, Suzie could focus on nothing else except taking it; she longed to know whether this session was making him as hard as it was making her wet. It hurt so much, she was reduced to trying to reach back with a free hand to protect her bottom from any more spanks, at least until she could absorb the present pain, digest the intensity, deal with the humiliation that he’d already heaped on her. He simply moved her hand away and continued the onslaught. She kicked her legs and scissored her thighs. He adroitly pinned her legs between his and spanked on.

At long last, he stopped and massaged the fanny that felt like it was on fire. Suzie cried like a baby for long minutes, then twisted around to sit on his lap. She rubbed her still-smoldering bottom against his lap as she slowly got herself under control, snuggling in tight against his collarbone, feeling her hiccups reverberate through them both. She longed for him to kiss her, to tell her that she’d taken it well, to pull her soaked panties off and finger her needful pussy, to push her back on her bed and enter her. She was ready. That’s why what he said next struck her with such profundity.

“Stand up so I can pull your knickers down, this last set has to be administered to your bared bottom.”

Suzie froze, even as feeling returned to the flesh of her singed butt cheeks and hot tears coursed anew down her facial ones. She cleared her throat, but her voice was still unrecognizably no different from a female frog’s.

“Could I please be allowed to have some lotion or some ice applied before we go on…?”

“The moisture left behind on your behind afterward will only make the final spanks hurt all the more,” Jake warned.

“Yes, sir, I know, but… I guess having not been spanked in awhile, I’m not calloused back there any more, and… my tush is a little tender right now…”

He lifted her from his lap and stood, “Would you prefer one over the other, or both, one right after the other?”

“Just some ice. You can find a Tupperware bowl to put it in on the bottom shelf of the cabinet by the fridge… Thanks.”

He left, leaving the bedroom door ajar, so Suzie heard Monica’s key in the front door’s lock a second before they were invaded by the interloper. Suz cringed at what she expected was to come, but the domino had been flicked and the line of them had started to tumble…

“Hello, who’re you?”

“Jake, and you must be Monica.” Suzie was impressed that he’d really listened to her and knew her roommate’s name. “I’m, uh, just getting some ice cubes…”

Jake wasn’t the only observant one, “For your palm, it looks pretty red and it’s very warm?” She’d held his hand in both of hers after their shake to inspect it.

Suzie piped-up through the half open door, “Yes, for his hand, now let him come back to bed.”

She heard some ice cubes tumble into the plastic bowl as Monica called back, “Is that all that’s reddened and warmed around here?” Suzie probably didn’t hear the sotto voice whisper that followed, “When you’ve put Suzie to bed, come see me…”

I have a feeling that Jake is in for a long night.

From the Top Shelf - Mrs. Mundinger’s Rose Bushes

Here is one of Rollin Hand's many F/M stories, written in 2016. I hope you enjoy it.

Chad awoke to the sound of pounding on his front door. Someone was banging on it.  He tried to ignore it, but the pounding would not go away. He covered his head with a pillow to blot out the sound. No go. Still the damn pounding. His head hurt, his mouth was dry as a bone, and he felt like death warmed over. The incessant bang—bang–bang finally roused him so he stumbled out of bed and made for the front door. On the way he chanced to see himself in the bedroom mirror. It wasn’t pretty. Bloodshot eyes, rumpled hair, pale skin. He was a mess. He’d slept in his clothes, apparently.

The memory of last night was vague, but it involved meeting up with his buddies at a downtown bar, followed by heavy pub crawling the rest of the night. He’d been three sheets to the wind by midnight. Somehow he made it home in his car after closing hour. Lucky for him no cops were about, or he’d have been in the drunk tank and charged with a DUI.

Good God! Stop the pounding! It was all he could think of as he prepared to open the door. When he flung it open he found himself face to face with his next door neighbor, Mrs. Mundinger, and she looked angry. He didn’t know her all that well. Her first name was Gerda or some Germanic sounding name. They had exchanged pleasantries when he moved in three months ago, and that was about it. What he knew was she came from eastern Europe somewhere, and had a thick accent. A large and stout blonde woman, she was the type you see in those German operas, the ones wearing helmets with horns. Big tits, big hips, thick legs. Nearly six feet tall, she towered over Chad by half a foot, and likely outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. She had a daughter, Anna, also big and tall, but considerably shapelier. Anna was hot, in fact.

Chad tried to clear his head and understand what she was going on about. Something about rose bushes.

“Yah, you see,” she said gesturing toward the driveway separating their property. “Your car. You crush my rose bushes, my prize roses.”

Chad peered out the door. What he saw gave him an awful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His car was not in his own driveway. Instead, it was in Mrs. Mundinger’s rose garden. Oh shit. No wonder she was upset. He must have run over the flowers the night before when he came in roaring drunk.

She stopped her tirade long enough to simply say, “I call police.”

“Whoa, whoa, now Mrs.Mundinger. Let’s hold on,” said Chad, raising his hands in supplication.

“No, you hold on, Mr. Chad Beachem. My roses are ruined by your car. You crash through them last night.” She stepped back and folded her arms across her ample chest. “Did you come home drunk, Mr. Chad Beachem?”

“I, uh, well…maybe I had a little,” he admitted.

“Don’t you lie. Don’t you lie to me.” She wagged a finger in his face like an angry schoolmistress.

“Okay, okay, I was a little drunk, I guess.”

“I thought so. I call police.” She turned abruptly and started to walk away.

“Wait. Stop. Don’t do that.” Chad could ill afford a DUI on his record. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it right. Really. No matter what it costs. I’ll see to fixing everything.” Chad was fully awake now, the adrenaline kicking in. This would be big trouble if the cops got involved.

She stopped walking and turned back around.

“So you fix? Get me new rose bushes? Plant them?”

“Yes, yes. Whatever,” said Chad, anxious to close this deal.

She stood with arms folded, frowning at him. She said nothing for a moment. It looked to Chad like she was considering his proposal.

“You will re-plant under my direction.”

A ray of hope. Chad said, “Yes, of course.”

She nodded. A good sign.

“But,” she said, frowning, “you must also be punished.”

What was this? Punished? He did not like the sound of that. He met her steel gray eyes staring intently at his face, looking for a reaction.

“You drive drunk. This calls for severe punishment. If I don’t call police, I must do it.”

Chad was confused. “Do what? What do you mean?”

“You will see. You come to my house at seven tonight. Don’t be late.”

Chad had all day to think about what she meant. He had had time to recuperate now. Some strong coffee, a few aspirin and a shower helped his physical sense of well-being, but could not quell the raging butterflies in his gut. What had he let himself in for? One thing he knew instinctively—he’d better not blow off this 7pm appointment next door. Mrs. Mundinger did not seem like the forgiving sort.

One thing he did know. He did not like the sound of it at all. At least she wasn’t calling the police or suing him or something like that. Still, all day his mind drifted, engaging in wild bouts of speculation as to what she planned to do. Chad didn’t know much about his neighbor, except that she seemed stern, rigid and controlling. Her nearly full grown daughter still lived with her. Chad had spoken her on a few occasions. She was hot, and Chad would have liked to know her better but she was always in the company of her mother, and the few times he saw her alone, it seemed she was almost afraid to talk to him without mother’s permission.

At the appointed hour he rang the next door doorbell. He was dressed casually, but not too much, in Bermuda shorts and a collared shirt. It wouldn’t do to appear ragged. Mrs. Mundinger’s daughter opened the door.

“Please come in. I am Anna. Mother is waiting for you in the parlor.” She smiled, but it was a thin smile, more like a smirk. What did she know that he did not?

Chad let her escort him to the parlor. It was an old fashioned sitting room with antique style furnishings, definitely early grandmother. Mrs. Mundinger was seated on the couch, leaning back comfortably, legs crossed, and eyeing him intently as he stepped through the doorway.

She didn’t greet him or say anything. Instead, she let Chad stand there shifting uncomfortably under her silent scrutiny. He finally broke the silence. “Uh, here I am, Mrs. Mundinger. I don’t know why you wanted me to come, really, so … why am I here? I said I’d fix your rose bushes.”

“Come here, Mr. Beachem,” she said crooking her finger.

Chad shuffled over closer. She sat up on the couch, pushing her solid torso forward until she perched on the edge. Then she commenced lecturing him like he was a schoolboy caught throwing spitballs.

“You are here to be punished,” she said wagging a finger at him. “You destroy my rose bushes like a little boy who does mischief.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. Now she towered over him, and he had to look up to see her face. He gulped. This was intimidating.

“Go get me a chair, Mr. Beachem. Hurry.” She pointed at the dining room where six armless chairs were positioned about a formal dining table.

Chad was confused. What does she want a chair for? He selected one and brought it into the parlor.

“Put it right there,” she said, indicating a spot in the middle of the room.

He did and awaited further instructions, feeling like a complete fool. What in the hell was she going to do?

She sat in the chair and motioned him to her side.

“Now I ask you, Chad Beachem, when you were a little boy and you broke a vase or drew on the wall, what did your mother do?”

What kind of question was that?

“I uh…I guess she’d yell at me.”

“She did not punish you?”

Chad thought for a minute. “No. Not really.” He recalled a lot of scolding, but no real consequences for any childish misbehavior.

“And that,” said Mrs. Mundinger triumphantly, “is the problem.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will, she said. “Please to let down your pants, Mr. Beachem.”

“What?” Let down his shorts? Was she crazy?

Then it all became clear.

“You are going over my knee, young man. I give you what you should have been given by your mother, a sound spanking on your bare hinder.”

Had he heard right? A spanking? Chad gasped. He was in shock. No way! “I—I…you can’t do that!” It came out like a croak.

Mrs. Mundinger wasn’t fazed in the least. “Then I call the police. You decide. A spanking or police.”

Chad realized he had no choice. Of all the dumb things. Jeez! This was embarrassing as hell. She wanted to give him a spanking, like some little kid, like in those comics. What was it, the Katzenjammer Kids? They were always getting spanked for something. This was ridiculous, but Chad realized the woman meant it, and he had little choice. He had to play along.

With a sickening feeling Chad fumbled with his belt buckle. He glanced at Anna. She grinned at his humiliation, obviously enjoying it at his expense. He wondered if Anna received the same treatment from this woman, and the thought gave him a hard-on. He instantly regretted that because now his stiff prick would betray him. Blushing ten shades of red, he let his pants drop. He stood next to Mrs. Mundinger in plain white briefs, his dick making the cotton stick out like a tent.

“What is this?” She said, looking daggers at the stiff appendage, her expression indignant that he would dare display sexual arousal at a time like this in front of two ladies.

“I—I can’t help it. Sorry.”

“Let down your underpants, Chad Beachem,” she said icily.

Chad groaned and slipped his underwear down. His dick hung on the elastic briefly then popped up, bobbing up and down.

Gerda Mundinger eyed the erection with disdain making a clucking sound with her tongue to voice her disgust. Then she did not waste any further time. “Get over my knee, young man. I will teach you a good lesson right here and now.”

She adjusted her skirt, pulling it up toward her waist. Chad got a glimpse of legs clad in nylon hose. She reached out and guided Chad over her lap, opening her legs slightly to accommodate his cock. He hissed at the contact with her muscular thighs. It was a fleshy platform, soft but with hardness underneath. He could feel the powerful rippling of her thighs as she adjusted him so he was well over, his bare bottom the highest point, his nose nearly touching the floor.

Chad felt her hand on his bottom. The flesh to flesh contact was electrifying. She patted, testing the surface. “You have a nice round hinder, young man. It will take a sound spanking.”

The pats were not gentle. She had a large roughened hand, maybe from all the gardening. Chad gritted his teeth, waiting. He didn’t wait long.

A sharp flurry of spanks exploded across his bare backside. The sensation of stinging heat was nearly instantaneous. His mouth flew open in disbelief that just her hand could sting so much, but it did. The effect was like he’d sat on a beehive.

“Yow! Ow!” he yelled as Mrs. Mundinger delivered smack after smack to his bare bottom. It lit a fire in his behind.

“This will show you, young man,” she intoned laying one hard spank after another on his bare bottom.

Chad squirmed helplessly. She had him pinned with an arm across his back. He reached back to shield his seat from the onslaught, but she grabbed his wrist and twisted it into a hammer lock high on his back.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said. “I spank hard and I spank long and you going to get a good lesson here today.”

More slaps exploded across his buttocks. He could only buck and squirm.

“Ow! Ow!” This hurt more than he’d imagined. He figured it would be more embarrassing than painful. He was wrong. It was sheer agony! The woman had a hand like a stevedore. She spanked with short sharp strokes that traveled up both cheeks from his thighs to the small of his back until every inch of his prominently presented buttocks was inflamed.

“You will not come home again driving drunk will you, Chad Beachem?” She questioned him and at the same time peppered his bobbing fanny with hard smacks.

“Ow! Ow! No, I promise.” Frantic now, he couldn’t stand much more.

“I make your little fanny nice and red, Chad Beachem. Now you learn.” She changed tactics shifting away from the fast flurries, and spanked him with long sweeping downward strokes of her powerful arm, each one landing dead center on his buttocks and delivering a shock that made his teeth rattle.

“Ow Yow! Please stop!”

Chad was sobbing now, a thoroughly chastened little boy. The intensity of the spanking had been a complete surprise. Her hand was all she had used, and it felt like a wood paddle. He fluttered his legs as he dangled helplessly over her knee. His tears salted the parlor floor. It amounted to such total humiliation for Chad that he had broken down and cried like a child.

“Get up,” she said finally.

Chad managed to rise off her lap. The erection was long since gone. He rubbed his bottom ruefully, choking back more tears. This had been absolutely devastating.

“Anna,” said Mrs. Mundinger, “Go fetch the cane.”

What was that? Fetch the cane?

Anna came back a minute later carrying a thin yellow stick. Chad eyed it with trepidation. In response, Anna smiled and bent it in a semi-circle.

“Now wait a minute,” said Chad, holding out his hand as a stop signal.

“Did you think we were done?” said Gerda Mundinger. “Did you think a little hand spanking was the whole lesson?”

Yes, he had. That spanking had given him a blazing, throbbing behind that was probably glowing bright red.

Anna handed her the cane. She took it a swooshed it. Chad looked on in horror as it vibrated like an evil thing, whippy and vicious looking.

“Bend over the back of the chair,” she said. “Anna, hold his hands.”

“Yes, mother.”

Anna came around and seized Chad’s wrists. She held them down against the chair seat, forcing Chad to bend forward.

“You will take six strokes without moving.”

“Ahh—no,” gasped Chad, panicked as he looked over his shoulder to see Mrs. Mundinger, her cane raised to strike.

It was too late. The rod whipped through the air and landed, striping Chad’s inflamed seat with a blazing line of fire.

The pain was atrocious. Chad tried to raise up but two things prevented him from moving. His feet were tangled in his shorts and underpants, now pooled around his ankles, and Anna had gripped him in a bear hug, her arms locked around his middle, her breasts mashing into his back.

Held in this immobile posture, his bare bottom raised over the chair back, Chad had no choice but to endure the five remaining strokes from Gerda Mundinger’s whippy cane. He howled at each one.

“You will never drive the car after the drinking.” Whirrr…whip!

“Yow! Ow! Okay!”

“You will be careful in future!”

“Yes, yes!” Whirr…whip! The cane flexed as it sped through the arc of her swing. “Yahhh!” Chad wailed anew as the cane bit into his bottom like a hot wire.

The sequence of scolding, a stroke, and Chad’s anguished response continued for the next three agonizing strokes. When Anna released him, Chad shot up and hopped from foot to foot rubbing his striped bottom, oblivious to the almost comical display he presented.

Mother and daughter stood back and watched, Anna observing with her sardonic smile, her mother looking on with approval for a job well done.
 

“Now,” said Mrs. Mundinger, shaking the cane at Chad, “You will be here on Saturday at eight am sharp to replant my bushes. Anna will instruct you and she has my permission to punish you if you do not do what she commands.”

What was this? Anna would be in charge? Chad’s eyes shifted to Anna. Her face wore a wicked grin, and Chad’s insides churned. Once again he asked himself what had he gotten himself into?

What indeed? I'm afraid you will have to use your imagination.😏

From the Top Shelf - Hide in Plain Sight, part 4

Here is the final letter from Mary Beth to her friend Sally. To refresh your memory, the other letters are here, here and here.

August 9
Dear Sally,

Oh my God. What happened to me was just awful. I’m standing here writing this (more on that later). I’m at home now by the way, and the reason I’m writing is that I’m grounded, I think forever. They won’t let me even call my friends. Daddy is so mad and I am completely humiliated. Me! a grown up girl of twenty. Well, I didn’t feel so grown up yesterday, I can tell you that. I’d never been so embarrassed and shamed in all my life.

It started when Raylin showed up at Jolene’s farm. He drove up and told me to get my things together, that I was going home. I asked him what had happened and he said that that man they had in jail had been killed by another inmate. There would be no trial and I was no longer in a protected status. Jolene came out and we all went into the house. Jolene said she was relieved, but wanted to know how come those men had traced me to her farm and Raylin said he didn’t know. Then he started asking me, did I call anybody, did I tell anybody I was here? I guess I’m not a good liar and he kept asking so I finally admitted I’d been writing these letters to you. He swore and threw his hat on the floor and Jolene said that she knew I’d done something like that. Jolene said I should be taken out to the woodshed and given the strap for being so damn foolish.

When Jolene said that, Raylin looked hard at me, and I got an absolute chill up my spine. He told her to hand him the phone. He dialed up a number and started talking to the person on the other end. It was all about me. After a couple of minutes I realized he was talking to Daddy. He gave the phone to Jolene and she went on about what I’d done, including the fight and the spying incident and the creek. Raylin talked and listened for a bit, nodding his head. Then they handed the phone to me and I heard my daddy tell me he was glad it was over, but before I came home there was the little matter of an overdue reckoning. Well, my jaw dropped. I cried “Daddy!” but Daddy hung up and Raylin took the phone and hung up. He looked at me and shook his head. Then he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me up out of my seat.

Raylin dragged me out of the house and everyone saw it. I was squealing for him to let me go, but he had his jaw set and just looked straight ahead as he pulled me along. Pretty soon everybody else saw what was happening and they all followed us across the yard. It was like a parade. I finally realized where he was taking me-it was to that woodshed. I dug my heels in, but I’m just a little 120 pound blonde girl and Raylin is six feet tall and all muscle.

He opened the door and dragged me inside and slammed the door behind him. Then he stood over me and really let me have it. He said I’d put everyone in danger by sending those letters, that somehow the gangsters had seen the postmarks and had figured out where I was, all after he had specifically told me no letters. On top of that my behavior had been awful and I’d gotten away with all of it, but that was going to end right here, right now. He said my daddy had given him permission to deal with me-“appropriately” as he put it. He also added, Sally, that he had asked Daddy if he could call on me and that Daddy had said yes.

Well my head was spinning, but before I could even think about that, he sat down on a stump they use for chopping, lifted me up, and put me right over his knee. I realized that he was going to spank me! Me! Mary Beth, a twenty-year old Vandy coed. I struggled and kicked but he just gripped me with that big strong arm of his and held me face down over his knees. Then to my horror, I heard the giggling. I looked around and could see eyes peering through cracks in the boards. All the girls were going to see me get my spanking.

But the worst was yet to come. He lifted my dress in back and threw it over my head. Now my bloomers were exposed to his gaze. Horror of horrors, he put his fingers in the waist band and pulled my bloomers down until I was bare from my back to my knees. I felt him rest his hand on my bottom. Sally, you don’t have any idea what that feeling is like, a man resting his hand on your bare bottom, knowing what he intends to do in one short minute. I was blushing head to toe and yelling my head off, demanding he stop.

All he said was, I had this coming and he was going to give it to me.

That first hard spank took my breath away. It landed right across the middle of my bottom and stung like nothing I’d ever felt. Then he smacked me again. Then he smacked my poor bottom a third time, and what had tingled now felt like a hot sting. He took off then and landed spanks on one side then the other. I wasn’t keeping track, though. It was just this hot blazing barrage of spanks that kept coming, and it was lighting a fire in my seat. It was relentless. He spanked my blazing fanny like that, a steady volley of spanks, one piling up on top of the other, until I thought my seat was surely on fire. I was kicking and squirming and shrieking like a scalded cat. I lost all dignity and begged him to please stop. I promised to be good. I said I was sorry. Tears were running down my face and I pounded my fists on the dirt floor, but he kept right on, delivering smack after smack to my little bare fanny until I just broke down and cried big salty tears. I was all done in. I sagged across his knees, all my fight gone. I wasn’t Mary Beth the hot shot coed, I was Mary Beth, the naughty little girl who just had her bare bottom soundly spanked.

I guess when I let go sobbing, he stopped. He gently pulled me to my feet and said it was over. I hugged him and cried on his chest. He patted my back and said he was sorry but my daddy had told him to do it, that I did deserve it. Outside it was silent. I forgot who all had been watching but the giggling had stopped. Later they told me they were just transfixed with the way Raylin had handled me. They said it was the most awesome shellacking they’d ever seen. It was like they were in awe of Raylin. In fact Debby allowed as how she almost wouldn’t mind a spanking from a man like Raylin if he loved her up later. I got to thinking about that and got a feeling in my private parts, you know? We got up and were about to leave when Jolene burst in.

To my dismay it wasn’t over. Jolene said that I deserved additional licks for putting her girls in danger like that. I had got off scot free at the creek, but now I should pay. To my own amazement I said I agreed with her. I had felt guilty about the creek thing and thought maybe this would clear the air with the other girls if I stepped up and took my medicine like the rest of them. Raylin put his arm out and asked her to hold off just now. So I got a reprieve until morning. It was too late to go then anyway. I was spending another night at Aunt Jolene’s. All the girls were sympathetic because they knew what was coming in the morning.

Well, after breakfast we made that long march back to the woodshed. I felt like Marie Antionette on the way to the guillotine. All the others came along. Once inside, Jolene pointed to the log and I pulled up my dress and assumed the position. I even slipped my own drawers down. I suppose Jolene let me off easy on account of my already sore bottom. I got only six licks with the strap, but they were scorchers. She took her time and delivered the licks slow, with a lot of time in between so I’d get the full benefit of each one. Each lick is etched into my brain now and I don’t think I’ll ever look at a leather strap again and not think of Aunt Jolene.

So the reason I’m standing here writing this is I can’t sit down yet. The whole thing is over and I’m grounded, but Daddy is letting Raylin call on me Saturday night. I’m excited and terribly embarrassed at the same time. This is awful. I mean, he has seen me naked and paddled my bare butt! I have one question—what should I wear?

Your best friend,
Mary Beth


August 12, 1957
Dear Mary Beth,

I was amazed to receive your letter as I had not heard from you in months. I never got any of the other letters. We had some thefts from our mailbox over the summer. I want to hear all about your new beau, but so far reading about what he did makes my insides go all butterflies. I feel flushed and need to lie down. Please send details and don’t leave anything out.

Your best friend,
Sally S

That's going to be a hot date!