You Completed the Caption

Roz: Lucy's fishing expedition yielded an unexpected catch.

Rosco: Not sure what she’s fishing for, but I’ll bite (gently).

Kenzie: She didn't expect the fishing trip to take this sort of turn.

KDPierre: Having both suffered recent break-ups and both believing the adage about "too many fish in the sea", Beth and Sally decided to bait the local fishermen.

Dan: What will be the outcome? Probably a really happy photographer.

Prefectdt: With this bait, I reckons I can catch me one of them there hot scuba divers.

Ozarkhillbillyhippie: And not a willow tree in site for a nice limber switch for her sisters deserving arse.

Ronnie: Susan hadn't expected to catch anything that morning.

Red: Proof positive why women should wear loose fitting skirts and dresses, specially on windy days. Fishing is a good idea when the region is becalmed, because it can stir up a lot of fun.

Kingspan: "How odd," she thought. "Usually when I get my bottom bared by someone holding a rod, they're standing behind me."

Wendel: Fishing for a spanking.

Hermione: (girl on the right) Hurry, Roger, get the paddle and tan her bottom while I hold her skirt up.

The Return of Complete the Caption

Yesterday, our good friend Wendel Jones reminded me that it's been a while since I posted a picture for you to caption. In order to reinforce the point, he spanked me sent me three excellent pictures. This is one of them.

This fishing expedition has suddenly taken a turn for the worse. What will be the outcome?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your happy (or not so happy) endings on Saturday.

From the Top Shelf - Mrs Hansen's Boarding House, part 4

Life goes on at Mrs. Hansen's boarding house, and that includes paddlings. Last week James had been forced to paddle both Fran and Lisa, and the girls weren't happy about it.

Part 4

It was a miserable week for James. Fran avoided him. She wouldn’t talk to him at meals and would not walk to class with him. Attempts at apology were met with rebuffs. Lisa, however, was more forgiving.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, as they walked to class few days later. “I had no choice. I’m in the same fix as all of you.” That much was true. It seemed all of the other boarders, being freshmen and away from home for the first time, were under mandates from parents to board with Mrs. Hansen’s and abide by her rules.

“I know,” said Lisa. She was still sitting rather gingerly even three days later. But neither Lisa nor Fran knew the real reason why Ida Reed had faked an injury. And James was certain that the blind draw had been rigged. It had been a ruse to drive James and Fran apart. Trouble was, it had worked. But how could he ever tell any of the girls why Mrs. Reed had such a hold on him?

“Look, if I tell you something, do you promise not to tell Fran? It’s—it’s pretty embarrassing.”

“Well, sure. I can keep a secret.” The fact was, Lisa was very taken with James. Was this a way to get closer? Might she have a chance? She was different from Fran. Fran the cheerleader, Fran the extroverted social charmer toward whom everyone gravitated.  But Lisa had her own charms.

Lisa knew she was attractive, and, let’s be honest, built like the proverbial brick you-know-what. But she was shy. And pretty, although she hid behind these big glasses with black plastic frames. Still, boys stared at her tits all the time, which annoyed her. James hadn’t done that. James was different. Like her, he was shy. But she speculated that under that polite and shy exterior he might be the man for her. Not only because he was cute, but because he was nice and seemed to care about her as a person.

And because she had a secret. Her real erogenous zone was her ass. She had discovered that fact with a boyfriend when she had been only sixteen. They had made out in her house, down in the recreation room. Tommy had been fascinated by the satiny smoothness of her ass and had always found excuses to squeeze and fondle it. Being a rather voluptuous girl, it jutted out, filling the backs of her skirts and jeans and making for a provocative display when she walked. Tommy had obviously liked that part of her anatomy to the point of fascination. His attentions had driven her crazy. He had once even given her a play birthday spanking. It hadn’t hurt. Instead it had tingled deliciously, driving her wild and they’d had the hottest make out session ever. She had even let him get to third base, and it might have gone farther than that, but they’d had to quit when she heard her parents’ car pulling up the driveway.

That’s why she hadn’t minded so much bending over and displaying her bottom to James, even if it was for a paddling. And it had hurt. Whew! It had stung like blazes. But later, later when the sting had faded to a warm glow, it felt almost sensuous. She could imagine James running his hands over it, squeezing it, fondling it. And she knew he would. She had seen the woody poking through his pants, knowing that the paddling had—what was that new phrase?—turned him on. That would be heavenly. He would be so different from the boorish boys who leered at the stacked blonde girl. And right then and there she resolved to keep his secret no matter how shameful.

“You can tell me, James. I swear I won’t tell anyone, especially Fran.”

James told her. Haltingly at first, and then it all spilled out.

“My gosh, James!” Lisa put her hands to her face. “That’s awful! She made you do those things?” Lisa was dumbfounded. She’d only heard about such things, older women who preyed upon young boys. Now here was one in the flesh. “What are you going to do?”

James sighed. “I don’t know, Lisa. I really don’t know.”

“It will all be ok,” said Lisa. “We’ll think of something.” And she embraced James with a big hug. And that felt so good, she decided. She didn’t care if he’d been seduced by Ida Reed and had had sex with her. The feel of his body pressing against hers told her that she wanted this man.

James, too was surprised and pleasantly so. Here was a girl with whom he had shared an embarrassing intimate secret, and yet she hadn’t judged him. He had to wonder if Fran would have been so accepting. And better yet, he now had an ally.

* * *

Deliverance came in the form of a random bit of luck, but sometimes serendipity will work when plans do not. But it was not without some sacrifice that the formidable Ida Reed would be vanquished.

The basement was off limits. Mrs. Hansen had made that clear. “There is nothing down there but the furnace and some old tools. It’s dark and dangerous and none of you are to go down there,” she had announced one day in response to a question. Everyone accepted that at face value. Why would they want to go down there anyway?

But the place had aroused Lisa’s curiosity when she had chanced to be in the house around 10 o’clock one morning. Usually everyone was at class at that time, leaving only Mrs. Hansen and Mrs. Reed. But having forgotten a paper she’d been working on, Lisa had returned to retrieve it. As she had passed by the doorway to the basement, she’d heard a sound. It was a sound like a twig snapping, a sharp thwick! Then it was followed by another. Then another, this time accompanied by a low moan. She realized she could hear because these sounds came from the grates that led to the furnace below. Swick! There it was again. And someone was moaning, a low sound made a chill run up her spine. What was going on?

Carefully, almost on tiptoe, Lisa made her way down the dark stairs. The basement seemed large but Lisa couldn’t tell because it was so dark. The old oil-fired furnace gave off a soft glow, just enough so she could see without bumping into something. Toward the back she could see a sliver of bright light. It was spilling onto the basement floor from beneath a closed door. The snapping sound came from that direction. She heard another moan and this time, voices. A soft murmur came from behind that door. Lisa crept closer. The door was closed, but it was the type that had an old fashioned keyhole. Lisa crouched down, barely daring to breathe. Something was going on in that room that she had to see. Lisa put her eye to the keyhole.

Once her eye had adjusted, a startling tableau was revealed. It was Mrs. Hansen, but a Mrs. Hansen like she’d never seen before. This Mrs. Hansen wore a black corset and black stockings. Her pendulous breasts jutted over the top of the stiff material, the nipples hardened in apparent arousal. Before her was a woman, encased in black. It was a shiny material, like some kind of rubber, covering her from head to toe except for her face—and except for a large cutout portion that totally exposed her breasts, ass and crotch. It was Mrs. Reed.

Mrs. Hansen reclined on a large four poster bed. Mrs. Reed knelt on the bed, her face buried in the muff between Greta Hansen’s legs. The large blonde woman held a riding switch in her hand and snapped it down across the bared buttocks of her ‘friend’ as Ida Reed licked the sex of her employer. A multitude of red striations covered the bare bottom of Ida Reed attesting to the fact that they had been at it for some time....

Ida moaned when the switch hit, but kept her tongue firmly in place, working frantically, her head bobbing up and down. Then Greta Hansen moaned and threw her head back. Her body shuddered in climax.

This was unbelievable! Mrs. Hansen and Mrs. Reed? Lovers? And in these wild get ups? She’d seen pictures like these in forbidden magazines, but had never thought for a minute that such things were real. Letting her gaze wander, she saw other things too. The room was painted black and red. Mirrors were everywhere. There was a block of some sort with straps for restraint. There was a large X-shaped frame with manacles at the ends. Various straps and paddles hung on hooks along the wall. No wonder they spanked and paddled the girls and boys in their house. It was all fuel for…for…this! They probably came down here on Sunday nights after the reckoning. Then a chilling thought hit her. Had any of their boarders been taken down here? Maybe for some special attention?

But it was what she heard next that was to have such long range consequences. Greta Hansen stood. Ida was still on her hands and knees. She started to rise.

“Did I say you could get up? I’m not finished with you.”

“Greta, please,” said Ida....

Greta Hansen frowned. With an arm like a steel band she encircled Ida Reed’s waist, held her fast and gave her a dozen brisk spanks on her bare bottom while Ida squealed, drumming her toes on the bed.

“Don’t lie to me, woman. I know you. You always have an eye out for the fresh ones, the innocent ones, don’t you?”

“No Greta. It’s only you. I swear.”

“Well, I hope so, pet. Because if I catch you cheating on me…well, you know. You’ll be on that X-cross getting the whipping of your life. Then we’ll be done. You’ll be back on the street. Understand? I won’t put up with it.”

“Yes, Greta.” Ida Reed practically whimpered.

“Now get ready, girl.” Ida threw her head back and moaned, whether in pain or pleasure, Lisa couldn’t say. But she’d seen enough. She was now in possession of a very big secret. She rose and tiptoed away.

* * *

James listened to Lisa in stunned silence. His jaw dropped as Lisa recounted her foray into the basement and its secret pleasure room.

“No wonder the basement is off limits,” said James. “I’ve heard of these things, but wow! Right here—and Mrs. Hansen being such a Christian and all. But now, with what Mrs. Reed did, with me I mean, I don’t doubt you for a minute. But, so what?” he said scratching his head.

“Don’t you see? She’s jealous. Mrs. Hansen suspects her lesbian lover of wanting you.” Lisa gestured with her hands, emphasizing her point. “If she catches Mrs. Reed with you, she’ll throw her out. Then that problem will be over for you.”

James nodded slowly.

“You do want that, don’t you?” But even as she said it, Lisa wondered. James seemed lost in thought. “Don’t you?”

James recovered. “Yes, yes. Of course.” He ran his hand through his hair. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure. Whenever he received a summons from Mrs. Reed, he broke into a cold sweat but his cock stood straight up. But here was this girl, a pretty girl who seemed to really like him. The lure of Mrs. Reed was strong. It was like a drug. But he knew it was a drug he had to quit. “So. Do you have any ideas? Mrs. Reed will be more careful now. She may not want to have me come to her after…what you saw.”

“She will if she is jealous. Look how she manipulated you into paddling Fran and me. It broke you and Fran apart. It worked. Fran is still mad.”

“Yeah, I know. So how do I make her jealous? Fran isn’t even speaking to me now.”

Lisa looked at James and said softly, “with me.”

“With you?”

“Yes. Let her catch us making out or something. She will be insanely jealous. Like you said.”

“Us? Making out?” James looked at Lisa in a new light. He’d been so distraught about Fran that he hadn’t noticed that Lisa had not only forgiven him, but she had listened to his shameful confession without condemning him. And she now proposed to help him out of his predicament. The idea was definitely appealing.

“Yes,” said Lisa. “She won’t tell Mrs. Hansen but she’ll send for you. You’ll tell me when it happens and I’ll find Mrs. Hansen. I’ll tell her there is a strange noise on the fourth floor. I’ll take her up there and she’ll catch Mrs. Reed in the act.”

“She’ll catch me in the act, too,” said James ruefully.

“You can say she made you do it. Say she was blackmailing you. Mrs. Hansen will be so mad at Mrs. Reed she’ll believe it. Problem solved.” Lisa smiled like she had planned a clever caper, just like in the movies.

It all sounded so simple…

It's a good plan, but will it work?

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 5

What physical or mental actions help you endure the most difficult part of the spanking?

Jack: I just kick, squirm, it helps and it does not help. My wife takes a tighter grip, will secure my legs, and saids "see I'm getting your attention" and the hairbrush lands harder and faster. When it is over, dancing around, rubbing does help, until told to face the wall.

Rosco: I try to stick my bottom up in the air as that’s what Irene likes me to do. (I’m twice her size so I rarely go over her lap.) But it’s hard to do when the smacks of the paddle are coming hard and fast. I kick my legs in proportion to the intensity and try to stay quiet, but sometimes fail.

And it’s hard to breathe sometimes if she doesn’t give me time between whacks.

It happened last night - had two paddlings at bedtime, separated by time on a hard wooden chair in her closet. Hot bottom this morning but feel loved.


Xen: Let’s see... I try to stay relaxed but end up clenching my whole body, I cross my ankles (I don’t know why that one helps) I kick my legs until I’m told to stop, I squirm (hoping to at least change the target area some) and I cover my ears (the sound bothers me). Deep breaths and trying to sort of mentally accept the pain sometimes helps with painful non-punishment spankings. Not much helps with punishment.

KDPierre: You know I like to joke, and what I'm going to admit to here is going to sound like I'm teasing, but it's completely true: for quite a while now I have found myself putting my fingers against my ears during the more difficult times. I have no clue as to why I feel this helps, but it does for some reason.

Wendel: The Misses yells out each time the belt smacks her bottom. For a regular spankings she wiggles her feet at the ankles. I tend to take heavier breaths and make fists.

Michael M: I start off relaxed and then become tense. I try and focus on the pleasure of each stroke and on the excitement of being under my wife's control.

Prefectdt: Trying to maintain a regular, deep and slow breathing pattern is the best thing for me. Concentrating on relaxing muscles after a hard strike also helps, before the point when the pain becomes more welcome. I will not do it unless asked to but counting the strikes helps me get my head in the right place for a spanking as well.

QBuzz: With the hand or the belt, I don't need a 'coping mechanism' as I enjoy it too much :D
But when my partner brings out the other implements, I find the best way is to just try and focus on relaxing and submitting to the pain, and expressing my agony vocally rather than physically (although a decent amount of squirming is inevitable). I think too much jerking and wriggling around is frustrating and off-putting for a female spanking a male, as she has to put too much strength into holding him in place.

Roz: I will often clench my fists or grab onto the duvet or hold onto Rick's leg, depending on the position. I also get vocal at times.

Red: Actually, I am trying my best to avoid doing anything to lessen the effect of the spanking. If bent over the counter in the kitchen for a quick on the spot spanking with the wooden soup spoon, I do raise up on my toes, and am trying to stop doing that. I used to count the spanks and that made them less significant on any type of spanking, so I have entirely stopped doing that, unless asked to count out the last ten spanks. Feet dancing occurs naturally, and I think Cindy enjoys my reacting to her efforts. Being vocal relieves any built up holding of the breath, which again would be trying to mitigate the effect of the spanking.

Bonnie: I think there are really two answers to this question. There are involuntary reactions over which I have little control. These include some combination of squeezing eyes closed, gritting teeth, clenching hands and feet, and vocalizing my acute distress.

But there are also some voluntary actions that I have developed over many years and many spankings received. Most important is breathing. Slow and steady, when possible, works much better than rapid panting. I use the techniques I learned in Lamaze training ages ago, and they still work. Relaxing the bottom is difficult while it's being beaten, but this technique helps reduce those achy deep muscle bruises.

Then there is the mental side. Early in a spanking, I admit that my mind sometimes wanders to topics like laundry or work assignments or kids. But when things get serious, what's happening to my behind is at the forefront of my thoughts. I try to ride the waves of pain, if that makes any sense. I want to slow everything down and land in a floaty place. Sometimes, I get there and other times I just end up sore and exhausted. But even that can be a good feeling.

Kenzie: Ohh great topic! I usually start off with stuff like gripping the sheets and trying to anticipate the smacks, but I realized that the best way for me is to just embrace it. Once I embrace it I can relax a little bit. But there's always some squirming and being vocal involved as well.

Ronnie: I squeeze my eyes shut, grit my teeth and hold onto P's leg if OTK or the duvet if I'm spanked on the bed and of course I get quite vocal.

Barrel: My answer is a lot like Bonnie. I try to control my breathing, steady and slow. Secondly, if OTK, I grab the legs of the bench at the bottom of our bed, which is where I get all the OTK spankings. I do count as my wife seems to as well. She generally works in groups of either 10”s or 20”s. It messes with my head when she goes beyond 20!!! If I am restrained on the bench for a long and serious beating, I breath and just hold on. After a while, I ride Bonnie’s wave of pain and just let it in, knowing that is truly what I want.

I shared this question with Hermione as I wanted to learn from all of you. Thanks for sharing your tips. It helps.

Yorkie: With my spankings I am naked, laying over my wife's lap. Usually I am gripping the next implement to be used with white knuckles, trying to breathe and not hold my breath, while also kicking my legs, curling my toes and trying not to swear! All the while waiting for a break and when it comes I am immediately wanting the next round!
 
Hermione: I squeeze my eyes shut and hope it will be over soon. I try to breathe but often forget.

Thank you all for joining in. Stay safe!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #325

Welcome to our virtual brunch. How is everyone holding up? On a positive note, our gasoline prices are waaaay down. One litre of gas is around 75 cents; that's 50 cents lower than it was all winter. I can't remember the last time the price was in double digits. We filled up yesterday and because we are hardly driving at all, it will probably last a few months.

Today's topic was sent to me, wrapped in a hand sanitizer wipe, by our friend Barrel.

As the spankee, what physical or mental actions help you endure the most difficult part of the spanking?  Do you wiggle your toes, clench your fists, focus on breathing, or something else? Spankers, do you notice your partner doing any of these things?

Please leave your response as a comment. I will put on my latex gloves and publish an edited summary of our discussion once everyone has had a chance to contribute.

Friday FUN

You know that life has changed when you get excited over finding toilet paper in the stores. I did just that this week, and they actually had my usual brand. I only bought one pack because we have some on hand already. I have a pattern for surgical masks but need elastic for the ear pieces, and that's coming from Amazon in a month or so (would you believe from China).

The self-isolation does have some bright spots. I'm still on the lookout for bad spelling and grammar and found plenty of it this week. Who knew "quarantine" was so hard to spell?

Aargh!!

From the Top Shelf - Mrs Hansen's Boarding House, part 3

James is drawn deeper into the web of Mrs. Hansen and Ida Reed.

Part 3

For James, things were different now. Mrs. Reed acted as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed. She warned him to act no differently. It seemed a bit unnerving to James to take supper in the dining room every day and engage in polite conversation, all the while sneaking looks at Ida Reed and getting hard under the table.

At the same time there was the matter of Fran and a budding relationship. The two began to spend time together, in the student center, at the malt shop in town and walking home after classes. James was developing feelings for Fran and it appeared mutual. And that is when the notes began to appear.

James found the first one under his pillow. It said, simply, “Meet me in the 4th floor room at midnight.” It was unsigned, but James knew who it was. He went cold and feverish all at the same time. It was a summons he dare not disobey.

“Right on time, James,” she said as he entered the fourth floor bedroom that night. She reclined on the bed in a sheer negligee that revealed the lines of her body and those proud upstanding breasts. “Come here,” she said, crooking her finger. “Take off your clothes. Then let’s see what if you remember what I taught you.”

James blushed but stripped off his clothes. Ida Reed noted the robust erection that sprang to life almost immediately as his briefs came down. At her command he climbed into bed. “That’s a good boy,” she cooed. “You don’t want to be bad boy for momma do you?” She patted his bottom. “If you’re bad, momma will spank.” James gulped, remembering that shameful experience. He had no doubt that she’d order him across her knee if provoked. It seemed to James that perhaps she got some perverse thrill from it. So he and did as she commanded.

He slipped away in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted. She had made him lie on his back while she had ridden him like a horse. He felt sore all over. Three days later another note came. Another summons. These came with some regularity now. She was the teacher, he the pupil.

At the same time, she noted James’ interest in Fran. When she observed them walking up to the house together holding hands, she realized that there was now a rival for James’ attentions. A rival that had to go, she decided.

* * *

“We have had a few problems this week,” announced Mrs. Hansen at Sunday supper. Everyone looked around at each other. “The dishes were not cleaned and put away properly on Tuesday and the person assigned to dust the parlor did not do so. These things were reported to me by Mrs. Reed while I was out.” Fran’s face fell as the realization hit her. “Fran Blackman, these chores fell to you according to the schedule.”

“But I did these chores,” said Fran, protesting. “Everything was cleaned and put away on Tuesday. And I did dust the parlor. I did!”

“Not according to Mrs. Reed you didn’t, Miss Blackman.”

Fran looked at Ida Reed, bewildered.

“And so that, I’m afraid, is five demerits. We will adjourn after supper to the library.”

A disbelieving Fran continued to protest, but to no avail. Mrs. Hansen was unmovable. Fran would get five swats. If she didn’t like it she could move out. Rules were rules. In the library Fran hiked up her skirt and bent over, hands on the seat of a chair. James noted the pert bottom, very nicely shaped, that she presented for the application of the paddle. Fran had not anticipated being in the dock for swats, and had worn briefly cut panties that showed off a considerable amount of bare flesh. James was so enthralled he almost missed the smirk on Ida Reed’s face as she handed Mrs. Hansen the paddle.

The swats were delivered slowly with a deliberate pause in between. Mrs. Hansen would announce each one and take a stance, lining up to deliver the swat most efficiently for maximum effect. A few taps to zero in and whoosh…crack! The paddle impacted Fran’s bottom with a loud slapping noise that caused all watching to wince.

“Ouch! Ahhh!” Fran wailed after absorbing a smack. Each smack of that paddle burned hotter than the last. Her bottom felt aflame, a white heat that seared her nerve endings and permeated her entire being. Twice she had to be reminded to stay still and take her punishment. When it was over, she was in tears.

Later, outside when they slipped away, Fran allowed James to hug her. “It was so awful,” said Fran, as James patted her shoulder. “It still burns. I won’t be able to sit. It was so unfair! I did those chores.”

James had to wonder. Fran swore she’d done the chores. It had been Mrs. Reed who had reported her. And that smirk. Then he got it. She was jealous. That was it. She had observed Fran and James together and had decided to exact some revenge. James was about to explain but stopped cold. What on earth would she think? I can’t tell. No, I can’t tell. That’s when James realized he was in bigger trouble than he realized.

Up in the fourth floor bedroom it became clear. “You’re mine, James,” she said after a steamy bout of sex. “You’ll do what I say.” When James protested she cut him off. “If I catch you with her, young man, I’ll use my hairbrush on that lily white bare bottom of yours. But for right now, maybe just a little lesson will do. Get over my knee.” James gritted his teeth and came across her lap. For the next several minutes she peppered his bottom with crisp slaps. As she spanked she scolded him, admonishing him to do exactly as she said.

“You will (smack! crack! whap!) stay away from that girl, James (crack! slap!). You will do as you are told (crack! whap! Smack!).”

James felt the sting intensify as her hand smacked his bottom cheeks in a fast flurry of smacks that alternated between his cheeks, striking one side then the other. An admonishment to behave, just like you’d do for ten year old who kicked a ball in the house. But really, it hadn’t hurt that much. In fact it had increased his arousal, because when she let him up his erection stuck straight out, much to her approval. She sat him on her knee afterward, just like a little boy, and jerked him off until he came. It was a clear reminder of her power over him.

But even that wasn’t enough for her. A week later there was a new twist. But it was made possible in part by infractions on the part of both Lisa and Fran. They had both missed curfew twice in one week. They had thought they’d get a reprieve because Greta Hansen was feeling poorly and did not come to supper. But it was not to be.

“You two are due for punishment,” Ida Reed said to Lisa and Fran at the weekly reckoning. “Neither Mrs. Hansen nor I treat curfew lightly and I’m sure your parents would want that rule rigidly enforced. I have discussed this with Mrs. Hansen. It’s for your own good, girls. You are each getting six swats tonight.”

“Six!” Both girls exclaimed at once.

“Yes, six. And, since my wrist feels sprained, I cannot punish you as I should. I have taken this up with Mrs. Hansen and she is of the opinion that one of you shall apply the punishment, just like the fraternities and sororities do.”

Everyone looked at each other as that bit of news sunk in.

“So, James, Betty and Molly shall draw lots. The one selected shall dish out the swats.” She produced a bowl with three slips of paper inside. “You will draw. The one that has a black mark on it will paddle you two,” she said to Lisa and Fran. “James, you first.”

The three looked at each other helplessly. Reluctantly, James drew. “Open it,” said Mrs. Reed. James flipped open the slip of paper to see a big black X on it. “Well,” she said. “No need for the rest of you to draw. It’s James.” James looked stunned. “Come along,” she said, “into the library. Let’s get this over with so I can report to Mrs. Hansen that it has been done.”

Fran looked at James wild eyed. James was speechless. He stared at the slip of paper in his hand. The realization dawned on him that he would have to do this or face expulsion from the house. He did not want to leave for two reasons now, one that he was ashamed of, and the other, well, it was Fran and being close to her.

They trooped into the library. The paddle was there, on the desk, waiting.

“Take the paddle, James.” Ida Reed pointed at it.

“Bring some chairs over,” she said to Molly and Betty. “Fran and Lisa, skirts up, girls, and bend over. Hands on the chair seats and stick those bottoms out.”

Wearing an agonized grimace, each girl rolled up her skirt to the small of her back. Both girls had attractive figures, James observed. Fran’s bottom was well proportioned. She was a cute girl. Lisa, a honey blonde with a more voluptuous figure, displayed rear cheeks that were full, shapely, and very round.

“Go on, James. Six swats each. Give one to Fran, then give one to Lisa until each get six.” James hesitated. Having to swat his would-be girlfriend with a paddle was bad enough, but the prospect was now making him aroused. What if somebody noticed?

“And James. If it’s not done properly, you will have to repeat that stroke and I’m sure the girls don’t want that.”

The voice came from the doorway. It was Mrs. Hansen in a house coat. She hadn’t been so sick that she couldn’t get out of bed and see that the reckoning was carried out. Everyone turned to look. James realized that now he really had no choice.

Lisa flinched as he took up a stance beside her and lightly tapped her seat. Carefully, he drew back then let his arm descend in a flat arc.

Splatt! The paddle smacked Lisa’s bottom with a sharp crack and Lisa’s bottom wobbled. She hissed through her teeth. Gosh! He hadn’t meant to hit that hard, but it was like the paddle’s own momentum took over and did the work. James moved over to Fran next. She looked at him over her shoulder in a look that implored him to take it easy. He nodded as if conveying the message that he’d try.

But even with a relatively easy swing, still the weight of the paddle created momentum and Fran’s first swat fell with another resounding crack.

“Yow!” squeaked Fran, half rising at the sudden onrush of hot sting and shuffling her feet.

James swore under his breath and moved back to Lisa.

“I want them firm, James,” said Mrs. Hansen. “The girls won’t break. They get worse in the sorority houses. Go on now.” She motioned with her hand. “If you don’t strike hard enough, you will have to repeat and I’m sure Fran and Lisa don’t want that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied James.

James got into a rhythm, lining up, applying a paddle swat, then waiting until she settled down before moving to the next girl. He marveled at how the flesh flattened as the paddle struck, only to spring back into that deliciously rounded shape with a little wobble. Six swats was a lot, James realized, and both Lisa and Fran were finding it hard to stay in position. They would react by half rising out of position, coming up, and had to be reminded by Mrs. Hansen to stay down. At one point James had to put his hand on Fran’s shoulder, gently pressing her back down. “You don’t want her to tell me I have to do one over,” he whispered.” Fran nodded and bent over.

It took what seemed to James to be an eternity, but in actuality it was probably no more than three minutes. But during that three minutes the other girls winced at the sharp cracks from the paddle and empathized with the muted yelps of anguish from Lisa and Fran. When all six strokes had been meted out, the girls were allowed to rise. They were both sniffling and eyes were red as they rubbed their inflamed bottoms vigorously.

“Now let that be a lesson to you girls,” said Greta Hansen. “You are dismissed.” Ida Reed held out her hand, and with a half smile took the paddle from James’ hand.

Things have taken a decidedly creepy turn. Would you want to stay in that boarding house? As a student, what would be your altenatives?