What would her hairbrush feel like landing over and over on her bottom? Or a ruler or wooden spoon? She'd have to encourage Connor to use implements. Perhaps they could draw up a sliding scale of misbehaviours and punishments. Losing her temper really badly could be what? The wooden spoon? They'd have to work it out when they'd tried them.
In the meantime, she should report on her first spanking, such as it had been.
Thread: My first spanking
Miss Scarlet: I thought I'd let you all know that I received my first spanking last night. I was rude to him because he was using the computer when I wanted it. I called him a dickhead and other names, and he spanked me.
Big Hand Bruce: >> I called him a dickhead and other names>> Strewth! No wonder he spanked you!
His Precious Gem: I suspect Miss Scarlet was testing him and he rose to the challenge. Excellent news, Miss Scarlet. Now that you know he *will* spank you if you misbehave, you'll find you no longer want to challenge him. At least that is how it worked for me.
Charlotte wished they weren't going to Graham and Lisa's tonight. The day dragged by and all she wanted was time alone with Connor so that he could spank her. She didn't really enjoy Graham and Lisa's company. She found it difficult to engage with any of Connor's friends, really. They were all about his age, and they all had kids in their early teens or younger. So conversation always revolved around what the kids were doing.
Tonight was no exception. Over steak and salad, Lisa and Graham talked about how great their fourteen-year-old son was doing in basketball, but how they worried about his marks at school. Their twelve-year-old daughter, on the other hand, got great marks at school but struggled to make friends. "She's too brainy for the other girls," Lisa said. "They're jealous of her."
"How are Josh's marks at school?" asked Graham.
"They were good till Deborah uprooted him to Queensland," said Connor.
Charlotte chewed her steak in silence. The only marks she cared about were those she wanted Connor to plant all over her bum tonight.
"D'you reckon you two'll have kids?" asked Graham.
"No," said Charlotte.
Graham and Lisa's kids wandered in and screwed up their noses at the steak and salad. "You're not having dessert till you've had some proper food," said Lisa. The kids ignored her, helping themselves to lemon drizzle cake and ice cream.
Connor chuckled.
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Kids," she said affectionately.
"Yep," said Graham, all long-suffering. "Who'd have 'em, hey?"
God, how could Connor stand these people? The time ticked ever more slowly till at last they were in the car driving back home from the country town Graham and Lisa lived in.
"That was fucking awful," said Charlotte.
"It was a good night," said Connor, surprised.
"Good how?"
"Good food, good wine." Not that he'd drunk much of it, because he was driving home. Charlotte was still wary of country roads at night, the idea that a kangaroo might bounce in front of her car. "Good conversation."
"Good conversation? Are you for real? All you all talked about was kids. How they're doing at school, whether they've got any friends, how they're doing in sport. Geez, it was like a mother's group meeting."
"That's the life stage they're at," he pointed out. "Me too, really."
"Well, I'm not. God. No wonder Deborah left you if you kept making her hang out with those two fucking bores."
"I wish you wouldn't talk like that. I like Graham and Lisa. They've been good friends to me for years. You have no idea how supportive they were when Deborah left me."
"Okay, I get that, but they bore me rigid. Next time they invite us, go on your own. God knows your family's enough baggage without you forcing your boring friends on me as well."
Connor didn't answer. She glanced across, caught the hurt expression on his face.
Why didn't he react? Hayden and Mark would never allow Panda and Gemma to talk this way about their family and friends. What was wrong with him?
Well, if he wouldn't react, she'd just have to push him further. "Still, I guess a fucking bore like you is going to have fucking boring friends."
Connor clicked his left indicator and pulled over onto a layby. He stopped the car.
"Are you going to apologise for that?" he asked her.
Charlotte shrugged. "Nothing to apologise for."
"I thought we'd made an agreement. That you would show respect for me, not call me names. Do I really have to spank you to make you do that?"
"I dunno… Guess you'd better find out."
Connor sighed heavily, switched off the engine. Charlotte held her breath in glorious anticipation as he opened the car door. Next second, her passenger door was flung open.
"Get out of the car," he said.
"Get stuffed! If you want me to get out, you—"
He gripped her arm, hauled her out. She struggled as he forced her face-down over the passenger seat, but a thrill ran through her. He lifted her skirt, slapped her bottom hard.
"Ouch."
The volley of stinging slaps made her gasp and squirm. The idea that someone could drive along the dark country road and spot them made her horny and horrified at the same time. But what if it was someone she knew, a neighbour, someone from work even? Greg didn't live too far away from here.
"Stop," she said. "Someone might see."
On the word, he stopped.
She wished he'd continued.
He walked round to the driver's side. She climbed into the car. God, that had been good while it lasted. Much more like a real spanking than last night's had been. It had stung, it had been harder, gone on a tad longer, and he'd been genuinely pissed off, not used the mock-stern tone. He slammed his door shut.
"Just…stop being such a bitch," he said. He sounded tired, almost pleading.
He switched on the ignition, then waggled his hand, frowning.
"What's up?" she asked him.
"I've hurt my hand smacking you."
Trust Connor to spoil the moment. Hayden, Mark and the others, their hands weren't weak, they didn't complain of pain after administering a spanking. As he drove, he kept clenching and stretching his hand. A couple of times he winced slightly.
Charlotte tried to ignore it, tried to enjoy the smarting of her skin, that he'd been at least momentarily masterful and spanked her.
Next time, she'd leave an implement lying around. Then he couldn't ruin the spanking by hurting his hand.
Eight
Thread: Cold hands, warm arse
Panda: Just been talking to my mother in Melbourne. She says she's glad the weather's getting hotter there right now, after having had such a long, cold winter.
Thinking of cold Melbourne weather reminds me of the day a few years ago when Hayden warmed my bottom because he came home early and discovered the house was cold.
I still had my eating disorder then, and one of the tricks I'd learnt to keep myself thin was to let myself get super-cold on cold days (so my body used more calories in trying to keep warm) and to get super-hot on hot days (so I lost weight through sweating). So if you ever saw somebody wandering around the city in a T-shirt and shorts on an icy-cold day or wearing thick jumpers, trackie pants and a beanie on a 40-degree day, and thought they were a nutter…well, that nutter was me.
Of course, when I moved in with Hayden it got a lot more difficult to do this.
Anyway, he was really busy on a case one time and had to go into work over the weekend. It was the middle of winter and he left really early one Saturday morning, and said he'd be home around five o'clock. Great, I thought. I'd gained a bit of weight with having to eat properly around Hayden, and it was bugging me. I knew better than to starve myself or overexercise to get rid of that extra couple of kilos, because it would mean a spanking if I did. Mr Eagle Eyes always seemed to know when I even *thought* about skipping a meal or going to the pool to swim laps.
When he left he told me sternly that h
e'd put lunch for me in the fridge and he expected it eaten. He used that tone, you know girls, THAT TONE that says 'don't disobey me or you'll suffer the consequences'. I swear my hand moves to my bottom to protect it when I hear THAT TONE!
Well, as soon as he'd gone, I took the heating off. Then I caught up with some admin and decided to do the supermarket shop. At lunchtime I ate the sandwich Hayden had put in the fridge and had a coffee. I then caught up with a couple of telly shows I'd recorded in the week. The house was icy by that point and I was shivering in my T-shirt and shorts. I made another coffee to prevent myself giving in and putting the heating on. The house warms up quickly once the heating's on, so I planned to put it on around four o'clock. By the time Hayden got home, it'd be toasty and he'd never know I'd been sitting there frozen most of the day!
Well, you guessed it. He got home just before four o'clock and it wasn't the house, but my bottom that ended up toasty!
"Why isn't the heating on?" he asked in that calm-but-deadly voice when he got in.
"I—uh—just got back from the supermarket," I lied. (Yep, I lied. How stupid am I? VERY.)
He opened the freezer and checked on the bread I bought a few hours ago. Of course, it's frozen solid.
"Go and stand outside my office with your face to the wall," he said. "I'm going to take a shower now, but I'll be with you shortly."
I bit back tears as I made my way to his office. I stood in front of the wall next to the office door, my stomach and throat tight with dread. I heard the shower come on and partly hoped he'd hurry so we could get this over and done with, and partly wanted him to stay under it forever. You know how it is.
Waiting was excruciating. I was crying by the time Hayden came down to the office and opened the door. "In you go," he said.
"Hayden, I'm sorry," I blurted out.
"You always are when you've been caught misbehaving. Today you're going to get a very firm reminder that it's in your best interests not to misbehave in the first place." He strode over to his desk and took out a cane.
I gulped. I didn't even know he had a cane.
Hayden put the cane on his desk, sat in the armchair, and motioned for me to stand in front of him on the rug. "Why did you leave the heating off?" he asked me.
I admitted it had been to try to lose weight.
"I thought so. Well, you are going to receive three strokes of the cane for that and another three for lying. And because I want to make certain you never, ever indulge in such self-destructive behaviour again, I'm going to spank you before and after the caning."
I started to sob.
"You know you deserve this," he said, his voice suddenly gentle. "This will only hurt your bottom. What you did this morning could endanger your heart and your life."
I wiped my eyes. He was right. As usual.
He patted his knee. "Take your shorts and knickers down and bend over my lap."
I obeyed. I always try to be stoic at first, but this time I was upset already, and I was soon yelping as his hand crashed down over and over, on my bottom, my thighs. Each slap burned like flames. And it was just like when he was in the shower. I wanted him to finish spanking me, but I also DIDN'T want him to stop, because it meant he was going to cane me!
When he'd finished spanking, he helped me up, stood me before him and said, "Now, pass me the cane."
He'd left it on his desk, and I waddled over to it, my shorts and knickers still around my knees. I didn't dare pull them up to make walking easier. I'd done that once when he'd sent me to the corner after a spanking, and earned myself another spanking at bedtime as a result.
I handed him the cane, and he pointed to his lap. I swear I was shaking as I bent over.
Hayden stroked my bum where he'd spanked it. "This will hurt a lot," he said gently. "But you know I'm only doing it because I love you and I'd rather hurt your bottom than see you hurt your body the way you did today. You do understand that, don't you, Panda?"
"Yes," I said. And I did—I do. And I'm grateful. (Not necessarily when I'm about to be spanked or caned, but grateful in general, you know?)
I heard the swish of the cane and shrieked as it landed across my sit spots. Oh boy! I'd received so many spankings from Hayden, even bore the imprints of the sole of his training shoe for three days once after he'd caught me bingeing and vomiting during the night, but the cane was something else. It tore through me like pain I'd never known. I wanted to get up and run, but Hayden held me firmly in place and gave me five more excruciating strokes. I screamed at each one.
He smoothed my sore buttocks again after the last stroke. "Good girl," he said. "You're doing well. Do you need a break before we continue?"
"No," I got out somehow between sobs. A 'break' meant corner time. I wanted this all over.
He lifted me up and to my feet. I wiped my tears away, tried to calm down.
He handed me the cane. "Put it back on the desk."
I tottered over, placed it exactly where he'd put it. And oh boy, did I ever make that vow when I put that horrible implement back on his desk. I never wanted to see it again, let alone feel it.
"Now bend over my lap again."
He spanked thoroughly, paying attention to my thighs, but occasionally whacking me over my stripes. I lay limply for this spanking, still crying, just wanting all this over and done with, for the punishment to be over, to be sitting on Hayden's lap, while he cuddled and comforted me.
Finally, it was over. I couldn't speak I was crying so much. He was exhausted too. He sat back in the armchair, stroking my sore bottom gently with his hand.
We'd been in that position for ages, me crying over his lap, him gently soothing me, when he said, "There's just one more thing before this is over."
My heart dropped again. Not more spanking, I thought, I can't bear it. Early bedtime, corner time, writing lines sitting on the hardest chair in the house for hours till he tells me I can move, I'll do that, but I can't handle even one more smack today.
"I'm going to take some photos of your punished bottom," he said, "so that you can look at them every time you're tempted to do something you know is wrong."
Charlotte gazed unseeingly out of the car window, thinking about Panda's latest spanking tale. Connor was driving them to his parents' house. Pat and Tom arrived home yesterday after nearly six months doing the 'grey nomad' thing to escape Melbourne's winter. They'd been to Alice Springs and Ayers Rock, then driven to Far North Queensland before working their way slowly south via Brisbane and Sydney. Connor hadn't said anything in the car, but Charlotte could tell from his expression that he was looking forward to seeing his parents again. Their silence was broken by the news on the radio.
"There are fears for the safety of 23-year-old British backpacker Marie Beckham," said the news announcer. "Miss Beckham left her youth hostel in Daylesford, Victoria on the morning of Wednesday September 22nd but failed to return that night, although she was booked in for the rest of this week. Police are appealing for anyone who has seen or heard from her to come forward."
"I bet she's been killed," said Connor.
Charlotte nodded absently, still thinking about Panda and the cane cutting across her bottom. God, the desire to be spanked, caned and spanked again like Panda was overwhelming. Charlotte wriggled, trying to relieve the tension building inside.
Tom was mowing the front lawn when Connor pulled up outside their one-storey weatherboard house on the traditional Australian suburban quarter-acre block. Tom was sweating from heat and exertion. He stopped pushing the mower when Charlotte and Connor got out of the car.
"I won't kiss you, I need a shower," Tom said to Charlotte. He banged Connor on the back.
"Welcome back," said Connor. "How come you're mowing already?"
"Grass was a bit long," said Tom. Charlotte bristled, aware of his intended, unspoken criticism. Connor would have had the lawns neatly mowed had he not had to dash up to Queensland last weekend.
Connor explained about Josh as Tom led them indoo
rs. Pat greeted them with a wide smile. She hugged Connor. "How are you, darl? Thanks for looking after the garden for us."
"Not that we could tell, the way the lawn was when we got back," said Tom.
"Oh, ignore him," said Pat. She hugged Charlotte. "How are you, darl?"
"Good," Charlotte said. She wished Tom would be nice to Connor, thank him for all the work he'd done, the hours he'd sacrificed. Connor's brother lived closer to Tom and Pat, but Tom had never asked him to look after the garden—oh, no. "Ah, he's busy, he's got a stressful job, and two little kids," was Tom's excuse for not asking Martin. By which he meant: Martin has a high-income job and you don't. Martin and Louise are still together but you and Deborah aren't. Their children live only a few minutes' drive away, but yours lives up in Queensland! So, face it, Connor, helping us isn't going to interfere with your job or family life, is it?
Pat made a pot of tea and, despite the day's stifling heat, warmed scones in the oven. Sitting round the kitchen table, Pat and Tom recounted the adventures they'd had on their travels. Some things were unintentionally funny like Tom twisting his ankle in a rabbit hole when they'd been out animal spotting after dark.
"We saw Josh, darl," Pat said to Connor, pouring him a second cup of tea. "While we were staying in Noosa. We drove down to Gold Coast to see him."
"Yes, he told me when I was up there last week."
"He seems very unhappy in Queensland." Pat refilled her own cup and stirred in sugar. "He doesn't like his school very much and I don't think he's made any friends."
"It'll take time," said Connor. "He misses his mates down here."
"You should challenge her for custody," said Tom. "He'd rather be here in Melbourne and you and Charlotte could provide a more stable home life than Deborah can. How long do any of her boyfriends last? Six months? No wonder the kid's miserable."
"Well, it's not so easy for her to have a relationship, darl, when she's up there on her own," Pat pointed out.
Tom ignored Pat and said, "You should think about it," to Connor. He smothered a scone in jam and cream and warmed to the topic. "Josh could live with you and go to Queensland for the school holidays. And I'm sure you could use the money that you usually pay in child support."
Groomed Page 6