College Junction, Minnesota, 1962.Ruh roh. James is in trouble!
The first thing that struck James about Mrs. Greta Hansen was the fact that she seemed so formidable. Tall and solid with blonde hair in a bun, a round face and hard grey eyes, she looked like some Midwest farmer’s wife capable of everything from plowing fields to hauling water to chopping wood. With her imposing bust, wide hips and stout legs, James could also imagine her as a Valkyrie warrior in some German opera wearing one of those horned helmets.
Then there was her cousin, Mrs. Ida Reed, who also lived at the house and did most of the cooking. James viewed Mrs. Reed as a bit younger, thinner, and so voluptuous that the challenge for James was to avoid staring at her rather prominent and upstanding breasts. Like an aging movie star in her 40’s, she had the look of a woman who must have been a knockout in her day, but age had diminished that ingénue look somewhat. A dark haired woman with a thin face, she was still attractive. Her build was tall and rangy, as if there were some power coiled there like a spring. Together the pair exuded a no nonsense air of total feminine authority. James found them both intimidating.
James had been directed to Mrs. Hansen’s boarding house by his mother, who had arranged for him to live there while at college. James’ mother had insisted on the Hansen house, and in James’ household, mother’s word was law. What James had really wanted was to be out from under his mother’s thumb, finally. He thought that leaving home for college would do that, and he had wanted to live in a dormitory with other boys his own age. His mother would not hear of it.
“In one of those filthy dormitories? I won’t permit it. It’s all arranged, James. I have spoken to Mrs. Hansen and I must say I am impressed. She runs a tight ship.” Then she had put her arm around her son’s shoulders. “It won’t be so bad, James. Why, I know that a former classmate of yours, Fran Blackman will be living there too. Mrs. Hansen takes in both boys and girls.”
James knew Fran Blackman, a cute girl from his high school. He hadn’t known her well. Enough to say hello in the hall, but that was about it. He had, from somewhere, heard that her parents were strict. Just like his own parents. That maybe explained why she had ended up at this Mrs. Hansen’s house. So James was resigned. But after a quarter of community college and having to stay at home, James was ready to leave. He’d been accepted at State University and would arrive for the start of the second quarter.
So on the appointed day he had packed his things for the drive to the quaint college town in which State University was located. He and his mother had an appointment with Mrs. Greta Hansen.
She sat across from James and his mother in her parlor, sitting stiffly upright in an old chair. Mrs. Reed sat next to the pair who were relegated to an uncomfortable looking loveseat. Between them was a tea set. She had insisted that they have tea. So he sipped tea politely while she alternately grilled him and dictated the rules of her house. They included no drinking, be in by curfew (which SHE would establish), no guests in rooms, no smoking, no swearing, and absolutely no going into the girls’ quarters. The girls and boys rooms were separated—the girls were upstairs on the second floor and the two boys’ rooms were on the third floor. Then there were chores. These would be distributed fairly but everyone would be required to share. Rooms tidy at all times.
James’ mother nodded with approval at all of this. “I think you will find, Mrs. Hansen, that James is a very obedient and well behaved boy. I’m sure he will study hard and be no trouble. Isn’t that right James?”
James blushed. They were talking about him as if he were some little kid, but he knew the consequences of rude behavior so he merely said, “Yes, ma’am,” and averted his eyes from Mrs. Hansen’s penetrating gaze.
“And one more thing, young man” she said.
He’d been about to stand up and leave, thankful that she was finally winding down. How much more? He’d been asking himself if it was going to be worth it.
“On Sunday evenings there will be Sunday supper at 6 O’clock sharp followed by the weekly reckoning. Everyone must attend. No exceptions.”
James was puzzled. “A reckoning?”
“To go over the week and see how everyone behaved. I keep very close tabs on my boarders, James, and every week we must settle accounts.”
James could not fathom what she was talking about, so he shrugged and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“What do you think, Mrs. Reed?” she asked, turning to her cousin.
Ida Reed narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “He seems like a nice boy. If he can obey the rules, we should all be fine.”
That look gave James the chills. Like cat sizing up a mouse. Who was this Mrs. Reed? A relative, really? An old friend? The relationship between the two was odd. They never called each other by their first names, but there seemed to be some unspoken bond between them, some shared secret. He was dismissed while his mother and Mrs. Hansen continued to chat.
Outside the parlor he ran into Fran Blackman who had returned from class. James explained that he was starting late and would make up the first quarter in the Summer if his credits did not all transfer.
Fran liked the idea of having James in the house. First, he was cute and that was nice. Second, she figured a boy might take some of the heat of Mrs. Hansen’ scrutiny off of the rest of them. Fran and the others had been appalled to discover how Mrs. Hansen enforced her edicts. It had been an extension of Fran’s own strict Christian household. She’d thought she’d outgrown the need for such childish discipline, but her parents had insisted she live here. She later discovered that Mrs. Hansen was of the same fundamental denomination as her parents, and they shared with each other their views on the appropriate discipline of children. It was on this basis that the Blackman’s had placed Fran in Mrs. Hansen’s house. But it galled her that they still thought of her as a child. She consoled herself with the knowledge that the sorority houses on campus used some of the same methods.
Her own experience throughout childhood had been that her parents did, on occasion, spank. She recalled with embarrassment the trips upstairs to her mother’s bedroom. The humiliation of being put across her mother’s knee for a painful spanking with her sturdy palm or later, the back of her flat-backed wooden hairbrush. The feeling of being so helpless while her mother had spanked a painful tattoo on her bare bottom. The wriggling. The crying. The admonishments to stay in place while hand or brush imparted its painful lesson. And even worse were those incidents, thankfully rare, in which she had endured a strapping with her father’s belt while bent over the end of her bed.
But she downplayed this aspect of the house in her conversation with James. “She tends to mother her student boarders. But she is really old fashioned, and strict.” Then she added, “which is ok if you follow her rules. You have to pitch in with chores and you also have to keep your grades up. She’s a bit odd that way. She monitors your report cards. And there are her rules—she’s very strict about that.” James noticed she shook her head with a slight grimace at that last part. He thought maybe Fran was holding something back, something she didn’t want to share, but he dismissed it.
James asked, “How many students stay here now?”
Five, she had told him. Four girls and now you.
James’ mother, having finished with Mrs. Hansen, said her goodbyes to James and drove away. James moved his things into the third floor room. That evening he was introduced to the others around the supper table. There was Molly, Betty and Lisa, all attractive girls. James’ mood improved. This could be interesting, he thought, sharing living quarters with four other pretty girls.
He registered and classes began. The first week was uneventful.
Sunday afternoon at the library James by chance happened upon Molly and Lisa engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. He thought he heard Lisa say ‘I saw it on the board. You did have four. She knew you missed curfew.’ And Molly said, ‘how could she know? Her lights were off. I went out to meet Doug after she’d gone to bed.’ Lisa shrugged. Molly took a deep breath, a worried look on her face.
“What’s up, girls?” said James. The girls’ faces brightened. James was nice to have in the house. He was a good looking guy, even if Fran had said hands off. But Lisa was thinking all’s fair in love and war, girl.
“I couldn’t help but hear—four what? Did you sneak out?” He was laughing.
“Molly did, and now she’s in trouble with Mrs. Hansen. I think Betty has demerits too. Her room is a mess. It could be a hot time after supper tonight,” said Lisa with a knowing smile.
“Hot time? What are you talking about?”
Lisa stared at James, her jaw dropped wide open. “You mean Fran didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“The way Mrs. Hansen and Mrs. Reed enforce the rules.”
“No. What does she do?”
Lisa’s face turned pale. She licked her lips. “Did you know that she was at one time a bible school teacher?”
James shook his head.
“She was. And thinks that we should be treated just like her bible school kids back then. So she has this paddle and when you get demerits, it’s over you go. Grab your knees, hold still—and then you get it.” Then she added, “ask poor Betty who’s in for it tonight.”
James stared in stunned silence. What? Impossible!
“I see you don’t believe me. But you will. Wait and see. Her and that Mrs. Reed. Tonight. She calls everyone into the library and if you have demerits it’s licks with her paddle. If you don’t like it, you can move out. And that’s not all,” Lisa said.
James leaned in to hear better. Lisa blushed. “If you do something she considers sinful, like sneaking out or smoking or swearing, she’s threatened to punish that person in a special way—in private. And that’s why Molly is so worried,” she said, casting an eye at Molly who blushed.
* * *
James could not believe it. Paddled? That’s what happened if you misbehaved? But he was practically an adult. But he was stuck. Mother and father paying his way to college meant living by rules they set and living at Mrs. Hansen’s was one of them. The thought was unnerving, not only because she was a complete stranger but because of the authoritarian demeanor she and her friend carried about. And both were well built women, ‘stacked’ as his friends always said when referring to women with large breasts and curvy hips. The idea of being disciplined in that way by those women gave him a woody. It shouldn’t have, but it did, and that was strangely disturbing.
Like many of his generation, he’d been subject to spankings even through his teen years. His mom’s hairbrush, his dad’s belt. They had come out for sass, for poor grades and of course for downright disobedience. Although to his relief his mom had not spanked him since he was twelve. It had been his dad who had meted out the discipline. So the thought that once again a woman would have to power to punish him in that childish way was frightening and embarrassing.
* * *
So James was on high alert at the formal sit down supper on Sunday at 5:30. Molly toyed with her food. Betty, a pretty honey haired blonde, looked nervous and said little. Mrs. Reed served the food then sat down next to Greta Hansen at the head of the table.
“It is so nice to have a young man in the house, isn’t Mrs. Reed?” said Mrs. Hansen, trying to make conversation.
“Yes, it is. And such a handsome one, too,” said Mrs. Reed with a smile that seemed to James as almost predatory.
The girls said little as supper progressed, and James assumed that their nervousness was related to the ‘reckoning,’ as Mrs. Hansen had put it. At supper’s end Mrs. Hansen announced that they would all retire to the library. The girls shoved back their chairs and without a word took their plates into the kitchen then headed for the library.
“You too, James. The library, please,” said Mrs. Hansen pointing.
“Yes, ma’am.” James followed the girls. This was it. Now he would see the infamous Sunday night reckoning.
They had seated themselves on either the loveseat or the straight backed uncomfortable chairs placed along the rear wall. The room was large. Books lined shelves that went all the way to the ceiling and all around the room. It was dead still. The books seemed to muffle any sound. No one said anything. The air was electric. Mrs. Hansen came in, followed by Mrs. Reed. James sucked in a breath. Mrs. Reed carried a paddle. It was oval, about a foot long, four inches wide and maybe a little short of an inch thick.
Mrs. Hansen stood in front of the hearth. “Now girls. We begin. This week, Betty, your room was not well kept. As I have told you before, cleanliness is next to Godliness. This will not do. Four demerits, I’m afraid.”
Betty bit her lower lip.
“Stand up and come here, Betty.”
Betty stood and approached Mrs. Hansen. She was a pretty girl, medium height, short blonde hair in a pageboy style.
“Lift your skirt, turn around and bend over, Betty. Hands on your knees.”
Betty fidgeted. “But, ma’am, Mrs. Hansen, please. James is here. He’ll see my panties.”
“And you will no doubt see his when he is to be punished. Now lift your skirt and bend over. Everyone must witness the consequences of not following the rules.”
There was a collective gasp as the other three realized that James would be witness to this humiliation. James tried not to stare as Betty lifted her skirt, revealing an attractive bottom clad in white cotton panties. She gathered her skirt and bent over, gripping her knees, her flared skirt held at the small of her back. Now that pretty bottom bulged out like a pair of ripe melons.
Mrs. Reed proffered the paddle to Mrs. Hansen who took it and stood to Betty’s right. She tapped Betty’s bottom a time or two and Betty flinched.
“Remember to hold your position, Betty,” said Mrs. Hansen. “If you get up, that one won’t count.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Betty in a choked voice. Her knees were knocking.
Mrs. Hansen drew back the paddle and brought it down in a flat arc. There was a sharp crack! as it struck the crowns of Betty’s buttocks.
“Oww!” wailed Betty. Her body jerked with the impact.
Three more times the paddle smacked Betty’s bottom, eliciting cries of “ouch!” and the shuffling of feet. Mrs. Hansen took her time, allowing ten seconds or so between swats so that a trembling Betty could reposition herself.
“Thrust your bottom out, Betty,” said Mrs. Hansen at one time. “Let’s have that naughty girl seat prominently positioned for my paddle.” James thought she said it almost gleefully. Mrs. Reed watched with rapt attention, her eyes excited, her chest heaving. Betty groaned and stuck her bottom back out to await another painful swat.
James took it all in, the whoosh and crack of the paddle, Betty’s jerk at impact, the way her flesh seemed to flatten then spring back. He realized that he was hard and his penis was poking through his pants like a tent pole. He fervently hoped no one noticed.
When the four swats had been doled out Betty was allowed to stand.
“Now let that be a lesson to you, Betty,” she said, handing the paddle back to Mrs. Reed. “You are all now dismissed.” They started to leave—“except for you, Molly.”
Molly stood stock still. Mrs. Hansen fixed her with a steely gaze. “Molly, you will come with me. We have something to discuss.”
Molly looked stricken, but after casting a worried look at her friends she followed Mrs. Hansen out the door and down the hallway toward her quarters.
“What is that all about?” asked James to no one in particular.
Lisa spoke up. “It’s what she warned us about, I’m afraid.”
“What?”
“Molly stayed out after curfew and Mrs. Hansen caught her. She warned us that certain offenses would be dealt with more harshly, as she put it.” She looked down the hall. “I’m afraid for Molly. She’s the first one of us to be caught doing something like that.”
They stood there in silence straining to hear. From down the hall came the faint sound of slapping, at a measured cadence. It went on for quite some time, at least a full two minutes. From behind the door they could hear muffled crying.
* * *
“It was awful,” sobbed Molly, snuffling. She lay on the bed, head in her hands. She was in PJ’s which were, at the time, pulled down to her thighs. Lisa rubbed cold cream into the flesh of a very red and very swollen bottom.
It was a big house with meandering corridors. The girls lived in rooms on the second floor in a wing apart from the quarters of Mrs. Hansen and Mrs. Reed. That is why James took the chance. He wanted to hear what had happened. So he carefully snuck downstairs from his third floor room and positioned himself outside Molly’s door.
“I had to follow her to her room,” said Molly. “She sat on this flat bench at the foot of her bed and made me stand in front of her while she lectured me all about sin and how I could get into trouble and such. She caught me coming in late and made be confess that it was to see a boy. I don’t know what’s so wrong with that, but she thinks it’s terrible. After that she gave me this horrible scolding. Then—oh it was so awful—she told me to take off everything but my underwear.”
“Oh my gosh!” said Lisa. “Did you?”
“What could I do?” said Molly. “If she kicks me out I’d be disgraced. My mom, my dad—they’d be mortified.”
“So what happened next?” said Fran.
“I stripped down with her and Mrs. Reed watching. That woman gives me the creeps. I was standing there in my bra and panties and that’s all. Then Mrs. Hansen picked up this big hairbrush and waved it at me. She said that there was a sure cure for a delinquent girl who would disobey her rules, and that cure was a sound spanking. And I just froze. A spanking! For me. I’m nineteen years old. I mean the paddlings are bad enough, but at least they do that in the sororities, so we are no worse off than those girls. But a spanking!
“Anyway, she made me get over her lap like I was ten years old. It was so humiliating. Then, worst of all—she slid down my panties to my knees. She said I was going to get it on the bare. And there I was, over her knees, my bare bottom sticking up, ready to get it.”
James could not believe his ears. A spanking! And on her bare bottom. He resisted the urge to stroke himself even though his penis was hard from imagining Molly across Mrs. Hansen’s lap, bottom bare, poised to take her spanking.
“Then did I ever get it! She started to spank with that big hairbrush and believe me, that thing stung like crazy. Each smack felt like a hot iron pressed onto my bottom. She paddled my poor fanny up one side and down the other until I was bawling—well you probably heard. It was like a fire lit on my backside. She spanked from side to side and all over. I thought I was being skinned alive. At one point she stopped and told me to stop wriggling so much, but I was in tears and couldn’t help it. It was the most awful thing-- it just went on and on. Finally, she made me count ten slow stingers for her and say I was sorry after each one. I broke down completely. It was the most humiliating thing ever.”
“Gosh Molly, that’s awful,” said Fran. But she could sympathize. She’d got the same treatment as a teenager at home sometimes.
James figured he’d stayed long enough. He turned to slip back upstairs to his own room. He turned the corner at the end of the hall—and ran straight into Ida Reed.
Wasn't that fun?THE ISLAND
The boat sat there all ready to go. It was just a stupid green rowboat, but there was no wind. The lake was as smooth as glass. The island beckoned. But they had been forbidden to go there by their husbands.
“Do you think they’ll know?” said Cath nervously.
“How would they?” sniffed Luanne. “They’re off hunting or fishing-or doing whatever it is with the sheriff’s office.”
“I don’t know,” said Cath. “They told us to stay away from the island and they got really mad when we went anyway. Do you think that there really is a cannibal hillbilly clan on that island?”
The men had told them to stay away from the island. The first time the girls had ignored the warning and had gone exploring. They landed in a few spots just to check it out. Gus had chewed out Luanne up one side and down the other. Jake had given Cath a piece of his mind, too. The second time they went over there, they’d just lied about where they’d been, but Luanne thought maybe Gus had sniffed it out. They’d have to be more careful.
Luanne turned and put her hand on her hip. She gave Cath a look of utter disgust. “Don’t be a little girl. They said that to scare us. That old story has been told in these parts for decades. Nobody’s ever seen a deranged hillbilly over there or anywhere else. Don’t be stupid. Cannibal hillbillies-sure,” she snorted.
“I-I don’t know…” Cath was the more cautious of the two.
“Look, it is private property, but that old ghost story was concocted probably to keep people off the island. What are you, chicken? We do know that pot grows wild there. We also know that there is a cove with a sand beach where we can go swimming. The men go off hunting for snipe or whatever and they expect us to cool our heels doing what? Needlepoint? Look, I’m on this vacation to cut loose and have fun, and that island is fun. So let’s load the rowboat and go.”
“I know that Jake was serious when he said to stay off that island,” said Cath. She looked around nervously, maybe expecting Jake to pop out and take her to task for even thinking about it.
“Or what? What’s he going to do? Honest, Cath, you’d think this was the middle ages.”
“Well, you don’t know Jake when he….”
“When what? When wifey misbehaves? Let me tell you, you need to take charge, tell him what’s what. That’s what I do with Gus.” She folded her arms in a huff, but she knew that last statement was not at all true. Gus, like Jake, had set boundaries for his wife, boundaries that were enforced rather emphatically. There was a short strap that hung on a nail in the closet at their house and it came out when Luanne did something stupid or dangerous. And a willful hothead like Luanne was always getting herself in trouble. But Luanne would never let Cath in on that little secret.
Luanne was a blond country gal built like the proverbial you-know-what. In short Daisy Dukes and a halter top she could stop traffic—and often did. Cath was a slender redhead and pretty as a picture. She wasn’t as buxom as Luanne, but what she had was perfectly proportioned. Everybody said Gus and Jake had married the prettiest girls in Parkersburg. But being the wives of West Virginia state troopers they found they had to walk a tight line.
It was a working vacation, their husbands said. They got to use the highly sought after state cabins for free if Gus and Jake would help the sheriff of Greenbrier County with some problem. It had to do with watching for some activity of certain persons on the lake. And the best part was, they could do it while fishing. So off they went, leaving the wives behind.
Well, one thing was sure, thought Cath. She wasn’t like her daredevil friend Luanne. She didn’t finish telling her how Jake sometimes expressed his displeasure. But, what the hell, you only live once. And she was bored. The men had gone fishing off in the opposite direction in Gus’s motor boat while all they had was the stupid green rowboat. So why not go back to the island?
It didn’t take that long to row over there. The cove was delightful on a hot day and yes, there certainly was wild pot growing. They found some leaves that had dropped and dried in the sun. They helped themselves to it and whiled away the afternoon getting giggly and feasting on munchies.
“Let’s get nekkid and go swimming, girl,” said Luanne with a gleam in her eye. Cath was too far gone say otherwise. Soon both beauties, one red haired, one blond, were splashing naked in the water.
The girls cavorted in the water unawares. They didn’t see the eyes peering through the thicket at the edge of the beach, taking in the whole scene. When they finally emerged from the water, they were in for a surprise.
“Where are our clothes?” said Luanne looking around.
“They were here. Right here.” Cath looked at her friend. “Luanne, this isn’t good. Someone took our clothes. What are we going to do? Ohmigod, even if we row back without being seen-what if our husbands are back? They’ll know.”
They were startled by a voice coming from the woods. “Get your hands up, girlies!”
Cath and Luanne shrieked. A figure emerged from the trees. She was in her fifties and stout-not fat, just solidly built. She wore an old fashioned dress of a type that had been out of style for 60 years. Her hard lined face was framed by gray hair held in a bun. And she held a shotgun. But it was her eyes that were the most scary. They were a piercing vivid blue and wild looking.
“Well, well, we got us a couple o’ plump morsels here, yes, we surely do. Turn around slow, so’s I can see what we got here.” The girls did a slow turn as the woman admired the high set breasts, the well toned legs, the flaring hips and the curvy bottoms on the girls. “Yes, indeed-y,” she cackled.
“Look, don’t hurt us,” said Luanne. “We didn’t mean any harm.”
“Please,” pleaded Cath. “We were just out for…”
“You was out trespassin’ that’s what you was doin'” She pulled the shotgun higher.
“No, no-we didn’t mean to. We’ll just go.”
“What, so you can come back tomorrow? No, that dog won’t hunt. That dog won’t hunt at all. I own this island and nobody comes on lest I say. And trespassers are persecuted.”
“Won’t you please at least let us put some clothes on?” said Luanne.
The old woman smiled grimly. Her eyes shown wildly. At first Cath thought the woman was probably deranged, on some drug or something. Then she realized, no, it was just the eyes. Still it gave the woman a frightening, off kilter appearance.
“Nope,” she said. “Not for what I have in mind. We’re all done with clothes now.” She looked over her shoulder. “Ordell, Jasper, get out here.”
Cath and Luanne shrieked when they beheld the horrific vision that emerged from the woods. Two rough men dressed in dirty overalls and caps strode out of the bush. It was their faces though, that had made the girls scream. Both had either been severely disfigured or—their faces were masks. That had to be it. They wore hideous masks made of skin of some type, like that leatherface character Luanne had once seen in some horrible drive-in movie. Something about a chainsaw massacre.
The woman gestured with the shotgun. “Tie them up, hands and feet,” she said.
“They look tasty, ma. We gonna take ’em to the stew pot?” said one. He spoke with a guttural drawl, the mask making his speech sound almost inhuman.
“No, no,” shrieked Cath and started to run, panicked now. She had barely hit the water when one of the men caught her and dragged her back. The other one grabbed Luanne. She fought but he was too strong. The men produced ropes and tied the girls’ wrists and ankles securely, immobilizing them.
“Naw, boys you aint gonna eat ’em. You still got them hippies that come over here lookin’ for our crop still danglin’ in the smokehouse. Somebody will miss these gals. No we’re just gonna teach ’em to stay offn’ our island.”
“Yes, yes, let us go,” pleaded Luanne. “We won’t tell anyone. We promise.”
“You gals gonna learn a good lesson first. You boys string ’em up from that branch over there.”
“Yes, ma,” said one. They pulled the girls over toward a low tree branch and tossed ropes over it, then tied the ropes to the girls’ bound wrists. They hoisted the girls’ arms up, pulling them until they were standing almost tiptoe. Neither Cath nor Luanne had ever felt so exposed and vulnerable. They were naked and stretched, arms overhead while these hulking men in their horrible masks leered at them.
“Now cut you some switches, make ’em couple feet long, real swishy. These gals are gonna find out what happens to trespassers hereabouts.”
“We gonna whoop ’em, ma?”
“That’s right, Ordell. You and your brother are goin’ take a switch to some sassy behinds. Teach these little misses a lesson.”
“Ma, I still think they’d make awful tasty stew.”
“Now you hush, Jasper, or I’ll take my strap to you in the shed.”
That pronouncement had the girls crying and pleading again. “Don’t whip us. Please no, not that!” Luanne looked in horror as the two brothers took knives and cut and began to peel some switches.
“Humph! A little whippin’. You rather I let my boys put you in the stewpot? Hunhh? Would you?”
That shut them up, but they watched anxiously as each brother readied a switch. The slender withes made a sick whining sound as the two men tested them by swishing them through the air.
“All right little misses, now we’re gonna see you dance. Boys, lay on with them’ switches. I wanna see some red be-hinds on these two.”
Ordell and Jasper took up positions behind the girls and tapped their bottoms a few times, testing the flex in the switches. The girls recoiled at the touch of the springy switches. Then they drew back their arms. Cath and Luanne heard the whine of the switches before they felt the stinging lines of fire across their bottoms as two switches landed nearly simultaneously driving the girls up on their toes.
“Yeow!” shrieked Luanne.
“Ahhh…ow!” Cath matched her friend in volume.
“Give it to them again,” said the old woman.
The switches whined again.
Swick! “Yowee!” yelled Luanne flinching.
Swish! “Ouch!…Ouch! No!” pleaded Cath.
“All right boys, keep going. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
The two hideous sons, Ordell and Jasper, then commenced a stinging switching of the two girl’s bare bottoms. Lashes fell steadily a few seconds apart. The glade echoed with the swish of the withes and the cries of the two girls. Lick after lick found the tender bare cheeks of the girls’ bottoms as the two hillbillies administered a thorough switching, urged on by their deranged mother.
Luanne and Cath yelled as each stinging lick landed. Before long their bottoms were covered with red weals. They were dancing on tiptoe as strokes from the switches seared their bare seats. Neither had ever felt anything like it. The switches’ whip-like strikes felt like hornets stinging. Luanne thought someone had lit a fire on her bottom. She could only imagine what she looked like, dancing on her toes, tits jiggling, her bottom bounding lasciviously. We’ll be lucky if they don’t rape us afterward, she thought.
Swick! Swick! Swick! The switching continued without letup. These men were like automatons, whipping them over and over with those switches. Luanne imagined that her bottom cheeks were quivering as the switch bit, probably inflaming the lusts of these horrible hill clan men. She just hoped the old woman would hold them in check.
“”Oww…oh, oww…”. Both girls were crying freely now and were dancing from foot to foot as much as their bound ankles would permit.
Cath could feel the burning mount with each successive lick. As she vainly tried to evade the switch, she was aware of the spectacle she must be presenting-dancing like a whipped slave girl, nude fanny jiggling with each lick. Her seat felt like a mass of stinging red welts and each new stroke stung worse than the one before it. She was crying like a baby. This hurt worse than any spanking she’d ever had. If only she had listened to her husband.
After several minutes the woman called a halt to the awful switching. By that time though, tears were streaming down the faces of the girls and their behinds stung atrociously.
* * *
When they put the Luanne and Cath back in the boat, they tossed their clothes in after them. The girls could not row fast enough to get away from the island. They never saw the cannibal hillbillies depart. It was as if they had melted back into the woods. It was only after they’d cleared the island completely that they put their clothes back on.
It was agony having to sit in the boat and row but they made it to the dock and the cabins. Their husbands were not back from their trip, they discovered. That gave them time to shower and rub aloe on the welts.
“Somebody has to do something,” said Luanne. “Those hillbillies are dangerous. They were talking about actually eating us!”
“I know, I know,” wailed Cath. “But that means we’ll have to tell the men. They told us to stay away from that island.” Jake would be furious. That little novelty store paddle would make its appearance. A cold shiver ran up her spine.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Luanne, but even as she said it, she rubbed her bottom unconsciously. She’d never admitted to Cath how her state trooper husband kept the worst of her bratty impulses in line.
When the men arrived they were told the harrowing tale. Naturally they wanted to see the evidence.
“Whooee, Luanne, that was quite a licking you got,” said Gus as he beheld his wife’s welted bottom. Jake confirmed that the state of Cath’s behind was similar as he emerged from their bedroom. “We’re glad you are all right, girls, but damn, why did you have to go there again? We told you, dammit!” Now Gus was furious.
“And it could have been a lot worse,” said Jake.
“Jake,” cried Cath, “they wanted, they wanted to e-eat us. They ate some hippies they said!” And she dissolved in tears.
“They whupped my behind so bad, I can’t sit,” complained Luanne. Even as she said it, though, she realized that it was probably the current state of her lush seat that kept Gus from thinking about tanning it for disobeying him. She gulped when she realized that that might come later.
“Good God,” said Jake. “I knew there were some nasty folk around that island, but this…. Gus we should go over there after them.”
Gus shook his head. “We’re out of our jurisdiction, Jake. Besides it’s too dark. They know that island and we don’t. We’ll talk to the sheriff first thing in the morning.”
Both men assured their wives they would get law enforcement on it right away. They had their guns, but it was too dark now to even think about going back to the island and capturing the cannibal hillbillies or whatever these horrible creatures were.
* * *
“Was my deputy a help?” asked the sheriff. He was sitting in his office at the county seat listening to Gus and Jake make their report.
“She certainly was,” said Jake, who smiled and nodded at the solidly built gray haired woman with the piercing blue eyes, now clad in the uniform of a Greenbrier County deputy sheriff.
“Good,” said the sheriff. “I guess she can get back to the stakeout now. We’ve been waiting for those people to show up and harvest that marihuana crop. Our biggest problem is keeping the civilians out.”
“Well,” said Gus, “our wives surely won’t be going back in there again and potentially ruining things.”
Jake and Gus let themselves out. Gus put his hand in his pocket to fetch his keys and felt a slip of paper. He pulled it out. It was a receipt–“Ace Costume Rental-2 ‘Leatherface’ masks, $7.00 ea.” Wouldn’t do to have this turn up in the laundry, mused Gus. No, sir, it wouldn’t.
He crumpled it up and threw it in the gutter.
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