There is a saying that the grist mill of the gods grinds with infinite slowness but complete thoroughness. Yet it would appear that this process was being remarkedly accelerated in the brief span of the two weeks during which Arthur Hadley and his mature, beautiful, brown-haired new wife Eleanor were spending their honeymoon in Mexico.
The personable forty-three-old widower had come to Malibu with his precocious and spoiled eighteen-year-old daughter Hester on his vacation, still grieving over the death of his wife Sonia. In the prime of life and at the peak of his virility, a virility which even his harmonious marriage to his gentle and somewhat reti cent wife had hardly even tapped, he was destined to have the pattern of his entire life changed by the seeming irrelevance of a beach ball. Of such small things in history made, just as in the famous ballad describing how a battle was lost for want of a two-penny nail.
For it happened that the thirty-nine-year old brunette widow Eleanor Stanfield and her delectable golden-haired sixteen-year-old daughter Betty were vacationing at Malibu at the same time, and while the two were playing catch, Betty launched an exuberant throw which made the ball hit Arthur Hadley, who was peacefully sunning himself at the time. From that accidental introduction, a romance quickly flourished between the two bereaved adults, who found each other not only intellectually sympathetic and congenial but also physically attractive.
And so the upshot of it all was that Arthur ardently proposed to Eleanor, whose own passions had been suppressed for six long years during which time she had brought up Betty according to her own sincere beliefs in the wisdom of judiciously applied corporal punishment.
When Arthur Hadley learned by what means Betty had acquired her obedience and genuine parental affection, he was astounded, for he had not dreamed that in this day and age parents still used the old-fashioned method of the strap and the hairbrush to bring up a teenager. But by contrast, seeing how his own daughter sulked and was thoroughly anti-social, he believed that his marriage would bring him not only a helpmate and bedmate of incomparable charm but also an aide in correcting Hester's errant ways even at this comparatively late stage in her hitherto unrestrained young life. Eleanor confided in him as to her methods in punishing Betty, and further startled him by discussing how her friends punished their children by the same old-fashioned but effective means. And finally, she instructed golden-haired Betty to see to it that Hester met Betty's young friends and discovered her herself just how their parents straightened them out when they strayed off the path of exemplary conduct.
So this "psychological campaign"-for that is actually what it was!-began as soon as Arthur and Eleanor left for Mexico, and Betty brought Hester along to meet seventeen-year-old Sally Jamison, who was one of Betty's dearest friends. Hester was unpleasantly shocked to hear Sally admit without any hedging that when she was naughty, her mother and father didn't hesitate to use a ping pong paddle on her bottom, or if the fault was serious enough, a special spanking strap which was like the old Scotch tawse.
Arthur Hadley's bespectacled auburn-haired daughter expressed her horrified indignation at hearing this avowal, much to Sally Jamison's amusement. Indeed, in Sally's own words, "You better not let my Dad hear you call him a brute just because he paddy whacks me when I need it, Hester. You mean to say you've never been spanked in all your life?" And Hester turned a vivid red with embarrassment, for that was exactly the truth: she had never received so much as an admonishing slap from either her dead mother or her indulgent father. But, as we shall see, in this concluding volume of our story, the blissfully unconcerned days of her immunity from strap and hairbrush and parental hand were rapidly drawing to a close....
Perhaps it was just as well for Hester Hadley's peace of mind that she and her new stepsister Betty didn't visit the Carruthers household about eight-thirty that same night, or the bespectacled auburn-haired introvert would have seen two very attractive girls subjected not only to the parental hairbrush but to an additional dosage with their father's belt.
Svelte attractive Mabel Carruthers and her genial husband Dave had decided to go out for a drive and a social call on one of Dave's business acquaintances who had just moved into the neighborhood in the pleasant little town of Claremont. This left their daughters Verna and Barbara alone in the house, and since school was about a month away, the two sisters animatedly discussed the prospect for fun and games during the oncoming semester.
Verna Carruthers was fourteen and a half, and a good deal of a tomboy. Her dark brown hair was styled in a ponytail, the hair combed away from the top of the forehead, and her face was oval, with widely spaced large brown eyes, a straight, thin-winged nose, and a ripe sweet mouth, whose lower lip was somewhat more pronounced and petulant. Her high-set cheekbones and her firm little chin proclaimed her to be a spirited adolescent, which indeed she was. Her supple charming figure gave promise of decided beauty in the next few years, for she was about five feet four, with a very supple waist, surprisingly ample, upstandingly rounded buttocks which in contrast with her long slender thighs and sinuous calves, made this amplitude even more pronounced. Her breasts were pert young oranges, set widely apart, and saucily firm. And her milky skin, dotted with delightful freckles on cheeks and chin and along her upper arms, made her an extremely provocative young Lolita. Despite her youth, she was already at the age of being greatly inquisitive about the opposite sex, and as a matter-of-fact the episode which we are about to witness stemmed entirely from this preoccupation.
Verna had often been scolded and then spanked for the tomboyishness already alluded to. She was fond of playing baseball with the boys, biking and roughhousing with them, and she liked to wear jeans and cutoffs rather than skirts. These outer garments were taboo during school time, but since this was late August, her parents permitted them. And on this particular evening, she was wearing a pair of extremely tight cutoffs which accentuated the surprising mature contours of her bottom and came down to mid-thigh, revealing lovely milky bare thigh and calf. She also wore a boy's blue cotton T-shirt, and sandals, white cotton panties and a bra. She was quite proud of this bra because to her it symbolized growing up and being able to take her place in the adult world.
Her sister Barbara, almost seventeen and an inch taller, was a young Venus. Her rounded face, with Grecian nose, a small full mouth, gray-green eyes, rounded cheeks and dimpled chin, together with a warm creamy skin, had already drawn a great deal of attention from the boys in Claremont high. Through both her parents, as with Verna, had forbidden her to have any "steadies" until she was eighteen, Barbara had a secret "understanding" with a carroty-haired, freckle-faced seventeen-year-old Tom Jeffrey, who was the star tackle on the varsity football team.
Barbara, unlike her sister, was very much interested in presenting the appearance of a poised and mature young lady. She wore a skirt and blouse, sheer flesh-colored nylons, and sandals, and her black hair was feathered in layers all over her lovely head, with tiny curls clustering down her face. She was seated at the writing desk in her room upstairs-Verna's was next to hers-writing a note to her "dreamboat" Tom Jeffrey when saucy Verna, without so much as a by your leave, opened the door of her room and walked in announced. "Hi, Babsie," she cheerfully greeted her brunette sister. "Whatcha doin', huh?"
Barbara Carruthers whirled around, her face red with embarrassment at being found out. "Verna, you know perfectly well I just hate that nickname!" she exclaimed. "Didn't anybody ever teach you to knock?"
"Sure, lots of times," Verna giggled as she approached the desk. "You can't be doing homework, school won't start until practically another month. Ah ha! I know what, you're writing a note to your heartthrob, aren'tcha?"
"Now see here, Verna," Barbara angrily expostulated, "that's none of your business and you know it!"
"I know. But I bet Dad and Mom would really tan your hide if they knew you had a crush on that lanky string bean of a football player, I bet."
"I suppose you'd snitch."
"Not me, Sis. Just the same, you better be awful careful. You know how strict Dad and Mom are about not having steadies. 'Course when it comes to that, there's an awful sweet boy I'd just love to have take me to a movie and hold hands with, if you wanna know something. His name's Dick Trotter."
"Oh, for gosh sakes," her brunette sister giggled, "You don't mean that awful drip with a cowlick that he always needs combing and that sissified voice of his, do you, Verna?"
"Now you shut up about Dick Trotter! Come to think about it, I don't think much of that Tom Jeffrey either, if you wanna know something," Verna indignantly countered.
"That's none of your business! After all, I'm practically seventeen, and in another year I'll be old enough to get engaged and married, so there!" Barbara haughtily declared, sitting up very straight to indicate to Verna that after all, she was a perfect lady. The maneuver thrust out the magnificent closely spaced round young cantaloupes of Barbara's titties, the already well developed points threatening to burst through the thin nylon bra which held them in check. Her hips were lusciously curvaceous, her buttocks being two broadly oval, very tightly spaced fleshy globes of delectable resilience and firmness. Her rounded thighs and delightfully contoured calves were already drawing wolf whistles from the males on campus.
Barbara had also experienced her first sexual emotions-something her parents didn't yet know about-when she had gone on a picnic last month with Nancy and Sally Jamison and Constance and Janet Gilmore, and just by accident Tom Jeffrey had driven up in his old jalopy out by the forest preserves where they were picnicking. Louise Gilmore had sent Hilda along as chaperone for the girls, but Hilda hadn't said anything when Barbara had sneaked away to chat with Tom. They had gone off quite a distance from the others, and Tom had gawked and shifted from foot to foot and got red in the face, and then finally had grabbed Barbara and kissed her hard on the mouth. She'd gasped with delighted surprise, made a pretense at first of being shocked by his boldness, but then she'd let him kiss her again. And she'd begun to feel the churning, moistening warmth in her pussy, so that when he'd pulled her to him and pressed her up against his hardening young cock, she'd almost fainted away with the thrill of it. They'd made plans to see each other this fall, and Barbara had explained that her parents wouldn't allow him to come to the house as a steady, but they'd work something out. And that night, alone in her room, still having that wonderfull itchy feeling between her legs, the lovely brunette had pretended that Tom was right there with her in bed and had used her finger on her pussy until the explosive ecstasy of orgasm had assuaged her hungry young needs-at least for the time being!
Barbara was highly incensed by her younger sister's flippant reference to her secret boyfriend, and reacted with typical feminine jealousy, which has no age limit: "Now look here, Verna, you just keep your mouth shut about my guy, and I won't say anything to Dad and Mom about your puppy love!"
"Puppylove?" Verna echoed, hands on her spacious young hips. "I like that! That droopy long drink of water you go for wouldn't even give me a flutter down you know where!" and with this she put a forefinger to the crotch of her cutoffs.
Barbara turned crimson with annoyance at this salacious and certainly unexpected critique of her boy friend's sexual powers. Of course, she hadn't yet got to the point of finding out whether or not Tom Jeffrey was man enough to give it to her-she secretly wanted to give her cherry to him and find out what it was all about. But Verna's taunting deprecation was just too much. Rising from her chair, she slapped her sister's face.
"Why, Babsie," Verna mocked her, sticking out her tongue, "so you've been trying to play house already with your guy, huh?"
"You shut your snotty little mouth if you don't want another slap," Barbara raged.
"Yeah? Well, that reminds me. I owe you a good one for that. Here you are, Babsie," Verna retaliated with a vigorous slap that reddened Barbara's olive-tinted cheek and sent the older girl stumbling back, her hand to her stinging cheek and her eyes wide with disbelief that her own younger sister would dare such an outburst.
And then a battle royal began. Quite forgetting their sisterly ties, Verna and Barbara scuffled on the floor, rolling over and over, pulling hair, cuffing and scratching each other, oblivious to all else in their furious attempt to come off victorious and once and for all assert the supremacy of either one. As a result, they didn't hear the front door, nor did they hear their father's comment to his wife Mabel, "Listen. Mabel, what's going on upstairs? Sounds like a bull in a china shop. Let's go see!"
And that was why as Mabel and Dave Carruthers approached Barbara's room, they stopped for a moment, thunderstruck at the angry voices and the sounds of physical combat: "Oww! Goddam you anyway, Verna. Now you went and tore my best blouse!-I don't care, you just keep your mouth shut about my boyfriend, Babsie-oohhh! Cut it out, let go, let go of my cutoffs-"
"What's going on here?" Fred Carruthers angrily exclaimed as he and his wife entered the room. They saw Barbara lying on the floor with her knees up and her skirts fallen away to show her voluptuous young thighs, her fingers buried in Verna's ponytail and yanking it as hard as she could, while Verna was ripping Barbara's blouse and going to work on the latter's bra.
"Oh gosh!" Verna was first to realize the frightening reality of the situation. She released Barbara and stumbled to her feet, gulping, her face cromsoning, "I-I-we-we were just having a sort of rumpus, D-Dad, that's all, honest!"
Barbara uttered a gasp of consternation when she found herself on her back on the floor with a highly interested audience of two contemplating her. She got to her feet, smoothed down her skirt, ruefully glanced at her torn blouse and gave her younger sister an inimical look, then stammered, "That-that's right, Dad. Verna and I were just kidding around, that's all."
"I see," the svelte auburn-haired Mabel Carruthers tartly replied. "Just a friendly little skirmish, isn't that it?"
"Sure, Mom," Verna chimed in, desperately trying to tilt the balance scale in her favor. But it didn't work very well.
"In that case," her mother said pointedly, "It's very funny that your father and I should be listening to things that properly behaved young ladies wouldn't even dream of thinking, much less yelling out loud. I think, Dave," turning to her husband, "It's time we had a little session with the hairbrush. Verna and Barbara seem to have forgotten the last little episode, don't you agree?"
"I certainly do," Dave Carruthers nodded, eyeing his older daughter sternly till she quailed, turning very red in the face, and lowering her eyes. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this and I do mean bottom. Mabel, you take Verna, and I'll give Barbara what's coming to her."
"Right, Fred. Come along, young lady," Mabel Carruthers told her tomboyish brown-haired daughter who looked suddenly crestfallen. She took hold of Verna's hand and led the girl into the adjoining room and then closed the door.
"Now I want the truth, Verna,'" Mabel Carruthers emphatically declared, her hands on her hips, and staring intently at the pretty brunette teenager. "What were you and Barbara fighting over? And don't try to weasel out of it, young lady, by telling me it was just all in fun. I'm not going to repeat what I heard you and Barbara yell out at each other as we were coming down the hall. I've a good notion to wash your mouth out with soap to start with before I give you a spanking. How serious that spanking's going to be depends on your being truthful with me right now, Verna. Well?"
Verna hung her head and scuffed the rug with her sandaled foot. She was almost literally in the position between the frying pan and the fire. If she told the whole truth that it was a squabble over boyfriends, she could just imagine what a thrashing she would be in for. If she fibbed, on the other hand, she knew perfectly well that her mother considered lying as one of the seven deadly sins and would chastise accordingly. Finally, her nimble young mind came up with a faltering account in the hope of satisfying her inquisitoner: "Well, Mom, it was like this. We-Babsie and me-"
"Barbara and I," her mother irritatedly corrected. "You know perfectly well your sister detests that nickname, and so do I. It reminds me too much of the Bobbsie Twins and heaven knows the two of you would never pass muster as them, thank goodness. Though in some ways I'll admit it would be a relief to our nerves if the two of you were just as placid and sweet as those two fictional characters. All right, out with it!"
This little interlude had given Verna more time to collect her thoughts and fabricate a more plausible story. Miserably, she knew that she was in for the hairbrush no matter what she said, but the only real question was how many spanks she would get: the more convincing her story, she felt sure, the more chance she would have of diminishing what might well be an imposing and very painful number.
"Well, Mom, Barbara and I, we were talking about movie stars, and I said I liked John Wayne and Barbara said she couldn't stand him, and then we got to arguing and she said I was just a silly kid and didn't know anything and I got mad. And then, well, I guess we both lost our temper."
"Hmm," Mabel commented. "I have a hunch you're not quite telling the truth, young lady. But since I can't prove it and I'm not a wardeness at a concentration camp, I'm not about to try to use stern measures to get the real truth out of you. However," and this with a meaningful smile that sent shivers up and down Verna's spine, "I think the dose of hairbrush oil I'm going to give you ought to be a sufficient remedy to keep you from wanting to indulge in any more unlady-like pugilistic bouts with your sister from now on. Get me the hairbrush, Verna."
"Y-yes, Mother," Verna faintly stammered, blinking her eyes very rapidly to disperse the first onrush of childish tears which followed this dire order. She walked over to her dresser and gingerly picked up an old-fashioned black wooden oval shaped hairbrush which lay in a little plastic tray, and came back slowly towards ,her mother, who had seated herself in a straight-backed chair and had smoothed her skirt.
Mabel Carruthers extended her right hand for the implement of chastisement and waited. Verna did not need prompting now, for the ritual was all too familiar to her. "Pl-please, M-Mother," she quavered, "I deserve to be sp-sp-spanked for being naughty, and-and I'm awfully sorry, M-Mother."
"That will do for the time being," her mother briskly remarked. "Now get ready."
With a doleful sigh, Verna unbuttoned her cut-offs and, stopping a little, tugged them energetically down. They were extremely tight-fitting and they seemed reluctant to leave the buttocks which they shaped out so suggestively. Under them, the thin white nylon panties, quite brief and exposing just the beginning of the base of that milky behind, remained the girl's only veil.
Verna placed her cutoffs on the edge of her bed, and then slowly draped herself across Mabel Carruthers' lap, clasping her hands together, bowing her head and shoulders down low, a pose which uparched the jouncy, ample hillocks of her condemned young posterior. Mabel Carruthers laid the hairbrush down on the middle of her daughter's back, and then with both hands seized the waistband of the flimsy panties and began to roll the garment down. Without being told, Verna arched her loins up just enough so that her mother could snug the sheath off and completely expose the milky, contracting checks of her behind, leaving the panties neatly and tightly rolled up at her upper thighs.
Then, retrieving the hairbrush with her right hand, Mabel Carruthers circled her daughter's slim waist with her left arm, tucking the girl in closely to her body, lifted the hairbrush slowly. Then after studying the tightening cheeks of Verna's apprehensively quivering naked seat, she applied the first sonorous, crisp spank against the plumpest curve of the right buttock.
Verna's flesh was quite sensitive, and the bright pink imprint left by the hairbrush sprang up instantly, while the tomboyish brown-haired teenager uttered a squeal of pain and kicked up one sandaled foot, glancing up at her mother's stern face as she poignantly tried to read from Mabel Carruthers' expression just how severe this hairbrush spanking was going to be.
The svelte auburn-haired matron prided herself in never punishing in either haste or anger. Verna was therefore doomed to a prolonged and quite taxing ordeal, as her mother suspected that Verna had not been telling her the full truth about the reason for the altercation. The hairbrush applied five energetic smacks to each of the girl's bottom-summits. Then there was a brief pause, while Mabel Carruthers adjusted her hold around the girl's squirming waist, contemplated the already crimsoned behind, and resumed with five smacks to each lower summit.
There followed another pause, by which time Verna was softly crying and wriggling uneasily as she tried frantically to ease her position and at the same time hopefully disperse the growing heat that was beginning to blaze in her naked posterior.
Now came five more smacks to each upper summit, and then still another pause. Thirty hairbrush smacks already constituted a reasonably severe punishment; but in Mabel Carruthers' private opinion, Verna was due a really sound chastisement for a number of accumulated little faults which this latest episode had topped off.
She therefore clamped her right leg over the girl's calves, which at once announced to the sobbing teenager that any hope of a reprieve was gone, and proceeded to finish Verna's correction with twenty more slowly spaced strokes of the black wooden hairbrush which "touched up" the regions of that milky behind which had not yet felt the chastening sting of the parental implement of discipline. Long before the fiftieth spank fell, Verna's hips were tossing and twisting and arching wildly, her tearstained and contorted face was turned back towards her mother, and her sobbing, supplicating pleas included many a childish avowal of her intention to be a very good girl from this moment forth.
At last it was over. Verna had been well trained, as had her older sister; she did not at once rush her hands back to rub her blazing bottom though there was no doubt she was yearning to do so. She had to lie in this uncomfortable and ignominious pose, her hands still clasped in front of her, while Mabel Carruthers lectured her on the naughtiness of picking a quarrel with her own sister and over so trivial a subject. Then in the next breath, her heart almost stopped beating when her mother added, "Now that school isn't too far off, young lady, let me warn you that I'm still going to keep what I said last semester. No steady boyfriends, and that goes for Barbara too. And most of all for you, young lady, because you're not even fifteen yet. Just don't let me ever catch you flirting with some of those personable boys at school, or Verna or your father will have something to say about it with his belt after you've had the hairbrush. You understand?"
"Y-yes, Mom ... Ooh, I'll be so good, please say you forgive me, Mom!" her daughter sobbed. So long as she remained over Mabel Carruther's lap and with the latter's leg fettering hers, the state of her naked blazing behind made her terribly apprehensive that her mother might decide to impart a little extra "touching up" to her already fiery naked posterior.
But finally it was over and the sobbing youngsters was allowed to rise from her mother's lap, and then, her panties still tangled around her thighs, to put her arms around the svelte auburn-haired matron and to kiss her and tearfully express her repentance and her regreat....
Meanwhile in her own room, brunette Barbara faced a rather more trying ordeal. Dave Carruthers had made his older daughter remove her skirt and panties, undo the tabs of her garterbelt, and then lie over his lap as he seated himself on the edge of her bed. With his left arm tucked around her waist, he began her punishment with a sound and energetic handspanking of about forty slaps which covered the jouncy ivory-sheened globes quite thoroughly. Despite what she considered an almost grownup age, Barbara wasn't able to hold back her tears and sobs, and soon her pretty sandaled feet were kicking wildly up and down as Dave Carruthers' big hand smacked angrily against her reddening bare behind.
But it was to her consternation to discover, when the spanking was over, that he was unbuckling his belt and drawing it up out of the loops of his trousers, then doubling it in his hand.
"Ohh, Daddy, please not your belt! I'll be so good, I didn't mean to fight with Verna, oh please, Daddy, let me off any more! YOU spanked so hard," she poignantly wailed.
"I don't like to hear any daughter of mine using some of those dirty words you were yelling at Verna, young lady," he grimly reminded her as he laid the doubled belt against her reddened posterior. "I'm going to give you twelve good ones, and you'd better not ever let me catch you swearing like that again, or I'll make it fifty with the belt as a starter, do you hear me, Barbara?"
"Oh yes, D-Daddy, oh please, my bottom hurts so awfully already," Barbara Carruthers sniffled.
But this plea brought no sympathy from her father. The doubled black leatherbelt rose in the air, then descended violently with a noisy thwack against the broadest curves of the huddling inflamed bare cheeks. A squeal of anguish tore from the victim, as she kicked her legs up and down, wriggling over his lap, quite heedless of the salacious spectacle she was making of herself.
By the time the fifth smack of the belt had bitten across her vividly splotched naked seat, Barbara was crying like a child and begging forgiveness and mercy in the same breath, wriggling so frantically that her father had to pull her closer to him with his left arm against her bare waist.
He lectured her now at each of the final seven spanks: "I just want you to be sure you won't forget what I've been telling you about using such terrible language-" Smack "-do you hear me, Barbara?"
"Owww, ohhh!! Oh yes, Daddy, I hear you. I promise I won't, oh please not any more!"
"We're going to have a new neighbor and his grownup daughter in the neighborhood, Barbara, and I hope you're going to set a good example-"Whack!" She's a year older than you are, I hear, and she's never been spanked. And I don't want you trying to act as grownup as I'm told she does, you understand me, Barbara?" Crack!
"Oww-oh yes, Daddy-Arrhhh! Oww! I'll promise I'll be good, oh please, oh please let up now, Daddy!"
But all her supplications were in vain; the full dozen spanks were inflicted with the stinging belt, and when it was all over, lovely creamy-skinned Barbara Carruthers wept like a child as her hips kept frantically swerving back and forth across her father's lap. Just the same, though it was dreadful for her, she still had presence of mind to say a silent prayer of thanksgiving that her father hadn't really found out why she and Verna had been fighting. It could have been a lot worse!
CHAPTER TWO
By the end of the first week of her-father's honeymoon with Betty's mother, Hester Hadley was beginning to think that she had suddenly been whisked off on a diabolical magic carpet into a strange new land where the most incredible things happened to grown up young people of her age. She had met Sally Jamison and discovered that this appealing if perhaps much too mild mannered sandy-haired girl was used to having a regular spanking with a ping pong paddle or even a piece of leather, one end of which was split into finger-like strips; and she had already been told how Verna and Barbara Carruthers got the hairbrush and sometimes the belt from their mother and father.
But Louise Gilmore, acting on her dear friend Eleanor's suggestion just before the happy day of the wedding, decided to further Hester's eye-opening education just a little bit more by telephoning the house which would now be known as the Hadley instead of the Stanfield house and asking the colored maid Jennie to ask "Miss Hester if she will please come to the phone as I wish to speak to her."
Hester frowned when Jennie reported this piece of information, for she couldn't imagine who could be calling her. However, and with her usual sulky expression when something unexpected happened, she picked up the phone and said, "Hello, this is Hester. Who are you?"
Betty, behind her, was rolling her eyes ceiling-ward and then glancing at Jennie and shaking her head to indicate in pantomime that this was certainly not the way for her stepsister, old as she was, to talk to stern Louise Gilmore. Of all the pre-mothers whom Betty knew personally in the neighborhood, her secret accolade of the sternest disciplinarian was assuredly bestowed upon the silver-blonde mother of Janet, Tony, and Constance Gilmore.
"Good afternoon, my dear," Louise Gilmore said in her cultured voice. "I was wondering if you and Betty would care to have tea with Janet and Constance this afternoon. I have to take Tony to the dentist, and I thought it might be a nice opportunity for you to meet some of your new sister's dearest friends. I believe that Janet is of your own age, unless I'm mistaken, Hester. She's eighteen."
"Yes, I'm eighteen too, Mrs. Gilmore. It's nice of you, but I really don't think-" Hester dubiously began.
But Eleanor had warned Louise Gilmore that Hester was likely to be diffident like this and had given her a few pointers on what to say if the occasion presented itself. So Louise Gilmore very smoothly countered with, "I do hope you'll come, Hester. I think your father would like it very much. He'd especially like you to meet Janet, since the two of you have so much in common-except, of course, for the way you have been brought up. But what I mean to say is that you'll find she has some very interesting views on experiences which may be new to you. And I do want her to make you feel welcome in Claremont, my dear."
This of course was a little white lie, because it was really Eleanor who had urged Louise to insinuate to the precocious auburn-haired Hester that it was high time the latter learned that just because she was eighteen, she needn't think that her bottom would remain virginal to disciplinary instruments just on that token. And Janet was assuredly a perfect example of the sternness and justice of Gilmore parental discipline, what with keeping her own ledger book of demerits and having a regular accounting session with her mother every ten days. Under no circumstances, Betty knew, was Janet ever permitted to carry her demerits over longer than ten days. Besides, Betty herself was eager to learn just how many demerits Janet had already accumulated, and furthermore she wanted to get Janet aside and ask for that charming brunette's cooperation in actually volunteering herself to be a martyr.
Betty had, her mother well knew, quite a vivid imagination and initiative, which at times of course had to be curtailed; but the little talk which she had had with Eleanor had decided her to take matters somewhat into her own hands so that her new stepsister could be "straightened out." And now that she had been living with Hester for an entire week with only Jennie around, Betty was convinced that the best thing that could happen to Hester would be to pay a visit to the upstairs room of her mother and learn the step-by-step preparations of the ceremonial which always prefaced a good sound spanking.
"Well, all right, I guess I can make it," Hester grudgingly assented. And once again Betty shook her head and rolled her eyes, while Jennie had all she could do to keep from giggling at her pretty young golden-haired charge's facial expressions. If she'd have been asked for her opinion, Jennie would have also given Hester Hadley a very bad rating. She felt that Hester was arrogant, selfish, and demanding, without so much as even thanking her for the things she did. And so, unbeknownst even to Eleanor, that worthy dominatress had already recruited another ally in the growing project which had as its end in view Hester's being toppled from her pedestal of immunity ... or, to put it somewhat more vulgarly, which had as its end the end of the unspanked condition of Hester's rear end!
Louise Gilmore gave her attractive German maid Hilda precise instructions, for she was entrusting Hilda with serving the tea and cookies which were to be the afternoon's refreshment for the four young girls. "Now mind you, Hilda," she said sternly to the handsome blonde maid who wore her little lace cap and tight-fitting black silk dress and, this afternoon, extremely sheer smoke-colored nylon hose which breathtakingly shaped out the appetizing plump roundures of the maid's calves and thighs, "you are to be on your best behavior, you understand me? Let the girls sit in the living room, get acquainted for a few minutes, and then you will serve the tea and cookies. You will come back from time to time to see if they want more tea or more cookies-serve only a few of the cookies at first, so you'll have to come back, you understand."
"Yes, Ma'am, I'll look after it, Ma'am," Hilda quickly assured her mistress. She always felt uncomfortable in the presence of Louise Gilmore, for the tall, sophisticated silver-blonde was unwaveringly strict with her. Hilda couldn't quite explain her feelings, because although her parents had spanked her when she was a little girl, she had thought that by coming to America she was done with all that. And yet here she was, living in the Gilmore house, submitting to having her rubber girdle pulled down and her bare bottom thrashed with the dog whip or sometimes when her mistress wanted to shame her, with the ruler or the noisy and stinging leather sole. Not only that, but Herr Gilmore often gave her a thrashing, and then she felt almost as if she were a little girl again when her father and mother had disciplined her. They were so good to her, besides that, so she really couldn't blame them when she herself was stupid and made mistakes which deserved punishment.
Of course, it was worst of all when it happened at the dinner table and young Master Tony and the two girls had to watch her being punished just as if she were their own age. Because this afternoon meant that she would be a good deal in the company of these four young girls, Hilda felt more than usually apprehensive, and Louise Gilmore smiled with secret satisfaction at the alacrity her maid showed in answering her and also Hilda's very humble and alert attitude.
"As I was saying, Hilda," she went on, "you'll come back from time to time to see if the girls want anything else. And I want you to listen to their conversation, with particular attention to what Betty's new sister, Hester, has to say. Unless I am very much mistaken, my Janet and Constance are going to be talking about what happens when they're naughty, and of course dear Betty will do the same about her own experiences. Hester, you see, Hilda, hasn't had the advantages that you and my daughters have had when it comes to being corrected for mistakes."
"Ach, ja, I understand you, Mrs. Gilmore," Hilda eagerly exclaimed. "That is Miss Hester who is coming to live here with Mrs. Stanfield-"
"Mrs. Hadley now," Louise Gilmore smilingly corrected. "That's right, Hilda. You see, Hester's father is a widower and he's been left all by himself to bring up his daughter, and I guess he's never believed that an only child can be spoiled. So Hester has never been spanked, Eleanor tells me. That's why I want her to learn that in this neighborhood here, Hilda, we believe in good discipline when it's deserved."
Hilda nodded. "I will listen, Mrs. Gilmore, and then you will want me to tell you what this Miss Hester says when she hears such things, Nicht wahr?"
Louise Gilmore smiled and nodded. "You're a good girl most of the time, Hilda dear," she complimented the mature blonde German domestic, "and I'm going to buy you that nice new coat you've been wanting if you do a good job in reporting back to me as much as you can."
"Oh thank you, Ma'am," Hilda gratefully exclaimed. Her blue eyes welled with sudden emotional tears, and she took Louise Gilmore's hand and brought it to her lips and kissed it, her head bowed in a kind of servile adoration. The silver-blonde dominatress drew herself up with her full authority, and it was again as if mother and child were brought together in this secret moment of intimacy which transcended the nominal relationship between domestic and employer.
"All right, Hilda," she said at last, but her voice was surprisingly tender. "You'd best get back to the kitchen now and see that everything is ready. And you don't need me to remind you that I don't expect to find any of the china broken when I come back home with Master Tony from the dentist. Otherwise-" She patted Hilda's cheek, and then reached around the young woman and gave her a playful slap on her opulent girdle-sheathed bottom. Hilda gasped, then blushed and shook her head, "Oh no, Mrs. Gilmore, I'll be awfully careful with the china, honest I will!"
* * *
Hester thought to herself that Janet Gilmore was really very attractive, with a figure that reminded her of Betty's, except that Janet seemed to have an even plumper bottom. It was all so confusing, Arthur Hadley's precocious daughter felt, as she somewhat guiltily blushed to find herself even concerned with a hitherto un mentionable portion of the female anatomy. Because she had certainly never before been conscious of bottoms before, not until Father had met Betty's mother. And then all of a sudden it seemed as if all the young people she was meeting could talk of nothing else except their bottoms and how these were spanked. And yet Janet was as old as she was, possibly even a month or two older.
"Well, Janet," Betty had begun the chipper conversation after the introductions had been passed around, "How's it going these days?"
The pretty brunette shrugged and made a wry face. "Not so good," she confessed. "I don't know why it is, but I seem to get into more trouble during summer vacation than when I'm in school. Oh say, Hester, that reminds me, you and I are going to be starting at Claremont College for Girls by the end of next month, aren't we? Maybe we'll have the same classes. What's your specialty?"
"I guess it would be history and civics, and maybe English Lit," Hester replied.
"Great! I'll be in English Lit too, it's one of my favorite subjects. I just adore Dryden and Pope and Shakespeare and all those others, don't you?" Janet gushed.
Hester was a little taken aback; here was a girl who actually knew something about Dryden and Pope, whom she had considered her own private favorites. And yet this same girl seated in an armchair across from the couch where she and Betty were sitting, with her legs crossed and one pretty leg swinging up and down and the pump twisting and pointing in the most sophisticated way, was freely admitting to having her bare bottom actually whipped-because there wasn't any other word to describe it, not when Mrs. Gilmore used a rubber dog whip. Why, it was barbaric! And how could Janet Gilmore sit there and be so cheerful when she was talking about punishment she had already got and punishment she expected to get? It was baffling. Maybe all these kids were robots without any personality of their own, to make them submit so tamely to a beating! Well, it wasn't going to happen to her, thank goodness! Father had much more sense than to try to use such an antiquated and stupid disciplinary method, and besides she herself had far outgrown any need for such humiliating and shameful correction.
"Yes, I like them a lot," Hester admitted.
"But I like the French authors like Victor Hugo and Balzac, too."
Janet didn't pursue the subject of literature. Instead, addressing herself to golden-haired Betty, she blithely came out with, "Well, Betty, I bet it's a relief to have two weeks' vacation from your mother. Gives your bottom a chance to cool off a little, doesn't it?"
"Well, if you put it that way, I guess you're right," Betty giggled without the least self-consciousness. Hester shot her an astonished glance and then looked back across at Janet. She just couldn't understand such candid, unabashed discussions. Because if it were she who had had a whipping, she wouldn't show her face to anyone and she certainly wouldn't ever discuss it.
Why, they must all be just like slaves, to be able to submit to such a dreadful thing and then to talk about it as if it were something like having a soda or going to a movie.
"Of course," Betty countered, "I still have to be on my best behavior, because don't think that Janie won't tell Mom if I try to get away with any fast ones. How's your demerit book right now?"
Again Janet made a wry face and shrugged. "I think I've got about fifty demerits so far."
"Uh-huh. When's pay-off time? Your mother still works on that ten-day limit, doesn't she?" Betty wanted to know. And then, in almost the same breath, turning to her new stepsister, she explained: "You see, Hes, Mrs. Gilmore doesn't always feel like tanning Janet's behind when Janet does something naughty. So she just tells her to go write the number of spanks down in her book. Then at the end of the week, Janet can pay them back, but if she would rather, she can have up to ten days before the slate has to be wiped clean. But no more than that, right, Janet?"
"That's right," Janet gloomily averred. "Anyhow, I'm in no hurry for that fifty, not after yesterday afternoon."
"Why, what happened then?"
"Well, all three of us got a little unscheduled workout, that's what," the oval-faced voluptuous brunette declared. "Connie too, and she's been about the best of the three of us this summer."
"How did it happen?" Betty wanted to know.
Janet looked at her younger sister, and Constance Gilmore demurely blushed and lowered her eyes and murmured, "Go ahead and tell her, Janet, if you want. I don't mind."
"Well, Bets," the brunette explained, "I guess you might say it was Tony who started horsing around. Mom and Dad had to take the car to the garage to get the transmission straightened out or something, and Hilda was dusting the living room when it started. By the way, she got it too."
"Hilda," Betty turned to Hester, "is their maid, in case you don't remember. She gets spanked too, just like the kids."
"Good gracious!" Hester ejaculated, her jaw dropping, "but she's a grown woman!"
"Sure. How old is she, anyhow, Janet, twenty-six or something?" Betty eagerly resumed the thread of this to her fascinating conversation.
"No, she's twenty-eight," Janet corrected. "Well, anyhow, Tony was just in a fiendish mood, absolutely fiendish. First of all, when he went upstairs to his room, he caught Connie looking out the window down the hall and talking to Janie Dumont who bad stopped by along our alley on her way home from a music lesson. So what does Tony do but take a yardstick from the linen closet and give Connie a couple of cracks across her bottom. And then the brat goes and shoves the window down so that poor Connie can't get loose and he really whacked her, didn't he, Connie?"
"He sure did," the pretty light-brown-haired younger girl giggled. "But that that it didn't hurt half as much as what Daddy gave me later on."
"You mean to say your father whipped you just because your brother hit you with a yardstick?" the astonished Hester Hadley gasped.
"Let's get the facts straight, for Hes' benefit, Janet, huh?" golden-haired Betty piped up.
"Hester here seems to be a doubting Thomas. And she still thinks that parents are awful people because they beat their children."
"Well, I do!" Hester flashed, coloring hotly as she saw all eyes on her. Hilda had come back into the living room with a tray of cookies and she suddenly stopped talking when she saw the buxom blonde German maid. Then she blushed all the more hotly, when she imagined what it would be like for poor Hilda to have to be whipped by her employers-why, it was like back in the Middle Ages, that was what it was!
"Would you like some more cookies, please?" Hilda proffered the tray to Betty and Hester.
"Sure, thanks, Hilda. They're great! I wish you would give Mom the recipe for your molasses cookies," Betty eagerly exclaimed as she reached towards the tray and took three of that variety.
"And you, Miss Hester?" Hilda innocently asked.
"Th-thank you, Hilda." Hester's fingers trembled as she reached for a sugar cookie. Hilda's eyes were on her, and there wasn't the slightest suspicion of guile at all in that round, lovely face, nor in the wide, pleasant blue eyes. But the proximity of Hilda's ripe body made Hester's mind teem with all sorts of vivid and haunting images ... was it really possible that this big woman was actually undressed and her bare behind spanked and wh-whipped? What sort of people were the Gilmores, anyway? And how could their children and even this maid be so calm and unconcerned about it?
Hilda crossed over to Constance and Janet, who liberally helped themselves. Then the German maid took the teapot and filled all the cups, and then walked slowly back towards the curtained archway connecting the living room with the hall. There was a duster lying on top of the mantelpiece, and she took it and began to flick away imaginary dust from the grand piano. Hester took a bite of her cookie, and tried not to look at the buxom maid, wanting to banish those incredible images from her mind. But, as if Hilda had already gone out, Betty urged: "Go ahead, Janet, what happened after Tony used the yardstick on Connie's rear end?"
"Betty please," Hester whispered desperately, glancing back over at Hilda who had her back turned to them.
"What's the matter, Hes?" Betty loudly inquired, and Hester could have cheerfully sunk through the floor. "Go ahead, Janet, as you were saying?"
"Well, Connie finally managed to push the window back up and get away from Tony, and she chased him down the hall. He ran downstairs and then he took a swipe at Janet who was in the living room. She got up and chased him, but he went over to Hilda there, who was dusting, and gave her a whack across her seat too, didn't he, Hilda?"
Hester was in an agitated state of embarrassment now as the attractive, buxom maid turned and smiled and nodded: "Ja, das ist richtig! Master Tony hit me pretty hard, too. So I guess I lost my temper and I chased him and I got him, and then I put him over my knee and I gave him a good smacking."
"And then I put in my two cents' worth," Janet interposed, "and told Hilda to give it to him good. And wouldn't you know it, but Dad and Mom walked in the door right about then!"
"Oh boy!" Betty giggled irrepressibly. "Wouldn't you just know it! So then what happened?"
"Maybe Hilda would like to tell us," Janet smiled as she turned to the buxom German maid. "Mom and Dad didn't let you off just because Tony had whacked you, did they?"
"Gracious no, Miss Janet," Hilda was actually smiling, Hester saw with astonishment. "Mrs. Gilmore said I had absolutely no right to lay a hand on her children, because that was her job. Of course she did ask Master Tony why I was smacking him, and he was man enough to tell the truth. But that didn't help me any, just the same, it didn't, I can tell you."
"You-you mean to say that-that Mrs. Gilmore actually punished you for doing what you did to Tony?" Hester could hardly speak audibly, her heart was pounding so at this astonishing revelation Had she moved into a town where all that anybody thought about was spanking, she wondered?
"But of course, Miss Hester," was the maid's calm rejoinder. "When I have done something wrong, Mrs. Gilmore or Mr. Gilmore always give me a gutes Schlagen. And me they saved for last, didn't they, Miss Janet?"
Janet took up the controversial ball and threw it back at once to confound poor Hester even more: "That's right, Hilda. First of all, Mom had the truth out of all of us about how the whole thing started. Then she thought that Connie ought to have had more sense than to lean out of an open window and talk to somebody out in the alley where she'd have to shout so everybody would hear. It was rude to start with, and most of all it was dangerous for Connie. And then I got a lecture about egging Hilda on against my own brother, so I was down for spanks. Only Mom didn't bother to have me write anything down in my book. She just said to Dad, 'I think we'd better take over right here and now, Fred, and settle up this little account before supper,' and Dad said he was in agreement with her. So then Mom went and got the rubber dog whip and the sole-oh, how I hate that awful thing, because it makes such a loud noise and it's terribly embarrassing because everybody can hear that you're getting spanked and then Daddy had Tony come over his lap in the armchair and let down his shorts, and then Dad pulled down his undershorts and gave him twenty good stingers with the whip. Boy, did Tony yowl and kick, just like a girl!"
"What happened then?" the eager golden-haired adolescent demanded. Hester's face was brick-red by now, and she was trying not to look at any of the participants in this incredible drama.
"It was Connie's turn next," Janet confided. "Dad made Connie kneel down over the low serving table by the couch and I knelt on the other side and held her hands."
"I always feel braver when I have to take a spanking," Connie suddenly and unexpectedly spoke up, "if Janet holds my hands that way, because then I know she's sympathizing with me and right there beside me, and it makes it sort of easier."
"I think Connie's just about the bravest of all of us," Janet loyally avowed. "Mom came over and pulled up Connie's skirt and petticoat and then peeled down her panties, and Dad laid on about twenty-five good cuts with the dog whip. Connie was crying a little, but she never does get out of position and she didn't once ask for mercy. That's more than I can do when I've got my demerit book to wipe out, I can tell you that!"
"Gosh," Betty irreverently declared, "that was quite a work-out for your parents!"
"It was only just starting," Janet sighed with an air of pained reminiscence. "Mom decided I should have the leather sole, and she took charge of it herself while Connie went back to her room. Mom took me by the ear and marched me over to the armchair, then put her left foot on it and bent me over her knee and told me to pull my skirt and slip up as fast as I could and keep them held up over my bottom. Then she took down my panties, put her left arm around me and held me tight, and Dad handed her the leather sole, and she told me to count out twenty. Boy, did it make a noise, like a gun going off every time! And it hurt like the dickens, you can bet on that! It was all I could do to remember the count, or I would have got an awful lot of extras. I bet my bottom was just as red as when Mom uses the dog whip."
"It was at that," Connie spoke up again with a soft little giggle and a sympathetic look at her older sister.
"Ja, when Mrs. Gilmore spanks, she spanks good and hard," Hilda now proffered, the feather duster still in her hand. "And then I got it good from her, Miss Janet, you remember."
"Don't I just!" the lovely brunette giggled, but there wasn't any malice in it. "Mom took you over by the ear too, just like me, but she made you kneel on the chair, didn't she?"
"That is true," Hilda calmly confirmed. "And I had to pull up my skirts and bend over the chair, and she took down my girdle, and then Kerr Gilmore first gave me a good hard Schlagen with his hand ... and I will tell you truthfully that his hand is just as bad as the Peitsche. But that wasn't all, Miss Janet. After he had finished with me, Mrs. Gilmore gave me a good talking-to and then she made me count twelve with the Peitsche. Oh how I cried and wriggled around, I am afraid I acted like a very naughty little child and I was very ashamed. But then it was all over. And everybody was forgiven. Nicht wahr?"
"Sure," Janet obligingly justified. "I'll say one thing, Mom and Dad treat you fair and square. Once punishment time is over, everybody's friends again and you know, Bets, I'm actually ijeginning to think that because we all know that Dad and Mom punish us for our own good, it makes us a stronger family."
"I never heard of such a horrible thing," Hester flashed, tears of indignation welling to her large, widely dilated eyes. "How you can all sit there calmly and talk about those horrible beatings, those shameful punishments, is more than I can understand!"
"That's because you never got a spanking in all your young life, Hes, and you know it," Betty defended her friends with an emphatic nod of her head. "You know that I'm not just playacting when I tell you how much I love my Mom, Hes. Well, I do. And so do Janet and Connie love theirs, and Hilda loves Mrs. Gilmore too, don't you, Hilda?"
"Ja, she has been so good to me, she and Herr Gilmore. There is nothing I would not do for them. They have taken me in and given me a home, and I feel-well, I know it is not right for a servant to speak so, but I feel like one of the family because I am treated the same way," the buxom German blonde maid confessed. "Now, how about some more cookies and tea, Kindern?"
But Hester had absolutely no appetite for refreshments. She wanted to go back home as soon as possible. However, much to her annoyance, her stepsister Betty kept harping on the subject, asking Janet when she was going to settle the fifty blackmarks in her book, and Janet said she would probably do it on Sunday afternoon.
When Hester finally accompanied Betty back to the house in which she would live from now on, her mind was a whirl. And her younger, wiser stepsister smiled knowingly to herself. She was sure that when she told her mother by the end of next week of what had happened this afternoon over at the Gilmore's, Eleanor Hadley would thoroughly approve.
CHAPTER THREE
When Louise Gilmore returned with her fifteen-year-old son Tony from the dentist, she sent him at once to his room and, going to her bedroom, changed into a green satin negligee and matching mules and then rang the bell for Hilda.
A few moments later, there was a gentle knock on her door, and the silver-blonde dominatress called, "Come in, Hilda!"
The buxom, handsome German maid entered, still wearing her tight black silk dress and lace cap, her face at once attentive and adoring. For, even though she had to admit to herself that it was not quite right to let the children watch her being given Die Peitsche on her naked Hinterbocken, the fact remained that when either her mistress or master had administered the whipping, she was beginning toderive the most unusually pleasant sensations ... and these were not entirely from a nostalgic recollection of how her father and mother had used to pnnish her. Having come to this country in hopes of finding a man and then being disappointed, Hilda at twenty-eight had begun to experience certain by now intolerable longings. She was not a virgin, for at sixteen behind a hedge back at her father's farm, she had tumbled round and round with a very good-looking young farmer's apprentice by the name of Hans Georg Viertmann, who had taught her what fucking was like. They had had a go at it for several months without her parents' finding out until one days Hans Georg's boss had discharged him for making a play for his own daughter, and so Hilda's young lover had fled in disgrace without even having a chance to say goodbye to his blonde, obliging sweetheart.
Fortune had been kind to her because she hadn't gotten pregnant from that very lusty and rather prolonged bout of summer fucking. But after all, that had been a dozen years ago, and now she was a full-bodied woman and proud of it. The only men in this household were, of course, Herr Gilmore himself and the Jungling, Master Tony. He was a stocky, stur dy boy, taking after his father, with black hair, a rather rebellious face, and Hilda shrewdly suspected that he was coming to the age when he was getting interested in girls. She had noticed once, when she had had to help Mrs. Gilmore whip all three of the children, and Tony had been last, that he seemed to be taking it all in when Janet and Constance had had to pull down their own panties and offer their bare Hinterbocken for the ruler smacking which Mrs. Gilmore had dealt out.
Yet all the same, though she could not quite explain all her emotions, Hilda stood in something of a sensually adoring attitude towards the silver-blonde disciplinarian. And this green satin negligee which shaped out Louise's imperious, tall and magnificently developed figure made Hilda's pulses quiver and race with more than usual attentiveness.
"Well, now, Hilda," Louise Gilmore greeted her. "Tell me all about this afternoon. Did you do as I told you to?"
"Ach, ja, Frau Gilmore, I did just that!" Hilda eagerly exclaimed. "I brought in cookies and tea several times, and then I pretended to dust a little here and there so that I could listen to what they were saying."
"Very good. And were they talking about spanking?"
"Oh yes, Frau Gilmore! But it did not seem to make that new one, that Hester, very happy.
She was forever saying that it was a terrible thing for parents to beat their children and to be so cruel to them."
"That is what Eleanor thought would happen," Louise Gilmore said thoughtfully, more to herself than to her buxom maid. "Well, next week when Eleanor comes back, I shall have a good deal to tell her. And so you say, Hilda, that Janet and Connie talked about the way my husband and I punish them, I imagine?"
"Oh yes! And do you know, you will be pleased to hear, Frau Gilmore, they both said to this Hester that she was wrong, that they loved you both because they knew when they had done wrong and expected to be punished that you were fair about it, you and Herr Gilmore," Hilda enthusiastically explained.
Louise Gilmore considered her voluptuously opulent German maid with smoldering eyes. Fred had just left for San Diego, where he might spend all of the next week or two on business. And she was beginning to feel a certain sensual longing, which might well involve this luscious blonde domestic of hers, whom she had trained so well and who felt herself already a member of the Gilmore family. There was no doubt that Hilda had a masochistic streak in her nature. It might well be turned to an erotic advantage.
According, Louise Gilmore lolled back on her chaise lounge and stared appraisingly at her maid, who flushed under this intense scrutiny. "Tell me, Hilda, are you perfectly happy with us?" she innocently inquired.
"Oh yes, Frau Gilmore! I am so happy, it is a good job, I save much money, I've become a citizen, and I think the children like me too!"
"Yes they do, Hilda. You're a wonderful cook, and although at times you're forgetful, you're a good girl most of the time. I'm very pleased with you, and so is Mr. Gilmore."
"Oh thank you, Mistress!" Hilda emotionally exclaimed, and then impulsively went down on her knees, seized one of Louise Gilmore's hands and bore it to her lips and covered it with kisses.
Louise Gilmore's eyes narrowed and a concupiscent light came into them. "Have you been very good these last few days, Hilda?" she murmured, putting a hand out on Hilda's shoulder to retain the handsome German domestic in this genuflecting position which made her in turn feel all the more like the dominatress she was.
"I-I have tried to be, Mistress."
"That's true. But now, admit it, I let you off last week when you dropped that cup, didn't I? And there was the week before when you forgot to order cream from the milkman, and Mr. Gilmore didn't have any for his coffee that night, and he was most displeased, but I prevailed upon him to let you off that once, do you remember that, Hilda?"
The buxom blonde tremblingly nodded, her soft blue eyes very wide and fixed on her mistress' stern, exotic face.
"Then I think," Louise murmured softly, "that we should wipe the slate clean. Don't you think so? Because then you know I shall be quite happy with you and we can share the kiss of peace."
"Oh yes! If you think I should be punished, Mistress, then I want you too! And-and I would rather, oh no, I shouldn't say this-" Hilda blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth and turned a very lovely red as she lowered her eyes.
"You may speak freely, we're alone together in my room," Louise Gilmore told her.
"Then, then, Mistress, the thing is, of course I want always to be punished when I have done wrong, but sometimes when it is done before the others, I feel ashamed. I know I should, but what I mean is that I am so much happier when we are alone like this and you do it to me by yourself, even more than when Herr Gilmore does it to me."
"I think I understand what you're trying to say, Hilda. Very well, I shall accommodate you this time. Go lock the door," Louise Gilmore murmured. Her voice had become husky, and her titties had begun to rise and fall quickly against the clinging and glossy stuff of the negligee.
"You're sure, Hilda dear, that you want me to punish you?" Now Louise Gilmore's voice was throaty and soft, and both her hands softly fondled Hilda's dimpled plump shoulders.
The round, pretty face of the buxom German domestic was scarlet with mingled emotions, and her blue eyes were lowered, not daring to meet Louise Gilmore's intent look. She could only nod.
"Very well. You may prepare yourself. But this time, Hilda, I want you all naked except for your stockings and shoes," was the edict.
"Oh, yes, M-Mistress," Hilda gasped almost in relief, it seemed. She rose, and began hastily to pull up the black silk dress over her head and shoulders. Her lusciously ripe hips wriggling licentiously as she did so. Then followed the slip, and now her pink-satiny body was observed in the mouthwatering dishabille of a tight white nylon bra with shoulder straps and bandeau and the famous white rubber girdle which clung tenaciously about the plump rondures of her spacious bottomglobes. Her nylon hose were held up high on her thighs by black elastic garters to which attractive little rhinestone figures had been sewn-a present from Louise Gilmore herself last Christmas. Hilda reached behind her to unhook the bandeau, and then pulled off the shoulder straps and hesitantly turned to the little tabouret on which she had neatly folded her dress and slip, and laid the bra on that growing pile. Now she was naked to the waist, and Louise Gilmore's eyes flamed with covetous desire.
Hilda's titties were arrogantly bold melons, with broad coral auroela in whose centers voluptuously ripe, crinkly buds nestled. Her navel was narrow and deep, and it provocatively marked the pink goblet of her belly. Her skin was marvelously soft and smooth, and the baby-pink tinging of her bare flesh was carnally appetizing to the extreme. Although she was robust, and perhaps some might have considered her too plump, the fact was that she was magnificently and perfectly proportioned. Tall, svelte Louise Gilmore seemed to dominate her even now as she peremptorily rose, and moved over to an armchair beside the door of her room. "Take off your girdle now, and be quick about it, Hilda," she said sternly, and only a faint trembling of her voice betrayed her rising emotions, which were not entirely limited to those of corporal discipline.
"Why-yes, M-Mistress," Hilda murmured faintly. Her face was scarlet now as she turned her back to the dominatress and, stooping a little, inserted her fingers under the waistband of the white rubber sheath and began to tuck it down. This maneuver was not accomplished without leveral lascivious twists and wrigglings, which had the effect of making her beautiful big firm titties jounce and jiggle, and Louise Gilmore's lips were moist and quivering by the time the girdle finally quitted Hilda's opulent hips and bottomglobes, slithered down to her ankles, and the maid stepped out of it, stepped down to retrieve it, and then turned, holding it in her hand almost helplessly, as she waited for a new order as to its disposal.
Louise Gilmore caught her breath at the appetizing, maddening vistas of luscious naked young womanflesh displayed to her smoldering eyes. The plump cuntmound was thicketed over with a fleece of dark blonde curls which covered the plump labia of that sensual orifice and disappeared along the groove leading to the nether temple of Sodom. The nylon hose caressed Hilda's opulent thighs and admirably rounded, firm, quivering calves with the cling of a second skin, and the garters marked a taut indentation in the luscious pink columns between which that amorous apex hid itself under the silky curls of the pubis.
"Just drop it, Hilda, it doesn't matter," Louise Gilmore's voice was husky now with longing. "Now kneel down on the chair-no, kneel on your palms on the chair, and bow your head well over the back at once, you naughty girl!"
When Hilda took this servile position, her big solid round bottomglobes jutted out all the more enticingly, and the gradually broadening furrow between them seemed to expand and allow a glimpse of the ambery-shadowy cleft which led to her second temple of love.
"Let me see," Louise Gilmore mused aloud "what shall I whip you with?" She looked around eagerly for the ideal instrument, while Hilda, having bent her head and shoulders over the back of the chair, waited, the plump cheeks of her behind twitching and quivering with anticipation. The muscles of her calves and thighs rippled and flexed under the clinging gauzy nylons, and her big titties were pressed tightly against the back of the chair of punishment. Yet the voluptuous quiverings which beset her almost naked body were not those of apprehension ; instead, they were the preface to her amorous tumescence. With all her mind and heart, she was conveying thought waves to her stern and beautiful mistress, hoping that the latter would take pity on her needs and, after giving her a really gutes Schlagen, console her.
Louise Gilmore at last decided on her ivory comb, an heirloom left her by her mother. It was solid and weighty, and it could sting smartly, as Hilda had already learned from past experience. But first, and because of this very intimate setting between them, the dominatress wished to have under her hand the naked satiny contours of that voluptuous big bottom, so that the feeling of domination and conquest and subjugation would be the more intensified.
Accordingly, she walked back from her dresser to the chair on which Hilda knelt, and proffered the comb to the quivering lips of her maid: "Hold that between your teeth, Hilda, and don't you dare let it drop, or I'll give you twenty extra spanks with it, you understand me?"
"Oh yes, Mistress!" Hilda eagerly agreed, glancing back at her mistress with a beatific smile on her full red lips. To her masochistic soul, this nuance of imperious compulsion exactly appeased her little-girl longing to feel the security which only a good thrashing could bring about, and after the threashing the kiss of peace ... many kisses, Hilda secretly longed for!
Louise Gilmore did not seem as yet to read her maid's mind. Once Hilda had seized the comb between her teeth, the silver-blonde dominatress posed her left palm on Hilda's neck, making her bow down her head still more as if she were truly the vassal and the serf, and then impreriously ordained, in a voice somewhat hoarsened by her own subtle emotions: "I am going to spank your big naughty bottom, Hilda, until it stings and is ready for the comb. Remember now, don't you dare drop the comb until I am ready for it. Nod your head to show me that you're ready for your spanking!"
Hilda bobbed her head with alacrity. Then, closing her eyes, sucking in her breath, her nostrils dilating, she waited, the hardening nipples of her titties rasping against the back of the stuffed armchair, pressing all her weight down through her knees against her tender palms as if by this kind of self-excoriation she would show to her beloved mistress the supreme degree of self-debasement and resignation and surrender.
In doing so, she unconsciously-or perhaps consciously!-thrust out the very crown of those ripe, pink-sheened, palpating bottomsummits, as if eagerly pleading for the hardest of smacks on their fulsome curves. And now it was Louise Gilmore's turn to suck in her own breath at the provocative abandon with which her virtually naked maid surrendered herself to this castigation which was only feignedly deserved.
Smack! Louise Gilmore's right hand rose and fell like a plummet. The crisp palm resonantly made impact against the broadest, plumpest satiny curve of the right buttock, and Hilda's naked hips jerked for an infinitesimal instant, as her head rose, her eyes opening, her nostrils dilating still more to discover the fierce heat of that initial spank, the prelude to what she prayed would be a lengthy and voluptuous correction.
Louise Gilmore did not disappoint her. The second spank, on the left cheek at exactly the same area as its predecessor to the right globe, was delivered a full minute later, while Louise Gilmore watched the quivering ripples that seemed to move fluidly along the jutting gluteal curves of that magnificent Callyphygian amplitude, truly worthy of the Venus Callyphyge herself. Then there was a still longer pause while Louise Gilmore's narrowed eyes contemplated the bright pink splotches of her palm outlined on each bottomsummit with the artistic fidelity of a Rembrandt, and watched the globes contract and shiver and then yawn in abandon.
"Put your head a little lower down, Hilda," she arbitrarily ordered, her voice stern and inflexible again. She saw Hilda shiver, saw her squench forward on her knees, shifting her palms with them, so as not to leave the position; then her almost naked maid humbly shoved down her head and shoulders to the maximum, and the spectacular out-thrust of that voluptuously pink-satiny bottom made Louise Gilmore shudder and bite her lips with a mounting erotic fever which was now overtaking her own loins. She moved a little closer to the chair, leaning towards Hilda with almost maternal felicitude, her left palm still bearing down on the young woman's neck. Now her right palm seemed to caress each of the sumptuous cheeks, as if constating not only the resilience of the naked netherglobes, but the quality of epidermal satin and the potential resistance of this and that sector of that opulent and proffered posterior.
A faint little moan escaped Hilda, for this benign caress not only intensified her suspense, but also enervated her lascivious desires. She could feel her pussy moistening, the lips twitching, and she was nearly swooning with her yearning for her mistress. But she didn't dare drop the comb and express herself. She only silently hoped that Frau Gilmore would understand, would comprehend what was taking place inside of her.
Hilda had never experienced Sapphic love. But, wiser than her own mind, her body yearned to experience it now, and all her shudderings and quiverings, all the jutting out and the nervous squirming of her satiny broad hips explicity implored such an initiation, though perhaps she could not and would not have so expressed herself in words, even if given the opportunity.
Now, as if satisfied with her palpatations, Louise Gilmore's left fingers suddenly gripped the soft round neck of her maid, signaling to Hilda that the moment had come for the serious part of the chastisement. And then briskly, her right hand rose and fell a dozen times, alternating on the buttocks, first right and then left, beginning at the tops of hips and working down towards the summits and applying crisp, vigorous slaps which immediately imparted a vivid crimson coloration to the warm natural pink satin of the naked flesh thus chastised.
Hilda's teeth clutched the comb as if her life depended upon it; her eyes closed, her nostrils flaring and shrinking, she contented herself with little whining sighs and whimpering moans as the stinging slaps once again resumed after a shorter pause. Now Louise Gilmore's hand attacked the lower summits, working down towards the base and the tops of the plump full thighs, and Hilda squirmed on her palms, shifting herself, but always arching forward, always retrieving any lost ground with almost feverish desire to prove to her mistress that she was totally submissive as well as grateful for this mark of attention. In so doing, her panting titties flattened against the back of the chair, and her nipples scratched by the upholstery, became hard rosy flints of desire. She felt a moisture gather in the depths of her cunt, and her ears were buzzing with the maddening langour which had taken possession of her. It seemed to her that she no longer had control over her bottom and lower limbs, for now at each stinging and noisy slap, her hips jumped and jerked and swerved, as if of their own accord and beyond her will to halt them in such salacious gyrations.
Louise Gilmore did not stop until she had "worked up" that ripe, ample naked bottom twice, which meant a total of about sixty slaps.
Tears were running down Hilda's cheeks by the time Louise Gilmore at last stopped, ruefully flexed her fingers, and glanced at her reddened, inflamed palm.
Hilda's shoulders were shaking, and she was squirming back and forth on her knees, her fingers clutching them, shifting restlessly, not daring once to leave position. Louise Gilmore unfastened the belt of her negligee, and let the green satin sheath open like the petals of a flower to reveal her lithe, still youthful body. Her own nipples were dark and stiff with longing, and the dark blonde muff at the apex of her long svelte, nervously muscled thighs was moist as well. Now she moved round the side of the chair, extended her right hand towards Hilda's mouth, and took the comb.
"I will give you two minutes to prepare yourself, Hilda dear," her voice had become tender and almost crooning now. "If you need more time, just tell me when you are ready. I am going to give you twenty good spanks with the comb on your big naked bottom, Hilda. They will be very hard and they will make you cry. I permit you to cry."
By this, Hilda understood that her mistress commanded her to cry and wished her to cry; as she glanced back, her eyes welling with tears, her lips trembling, she stammered huskily, "Ja, dear Mistress, I will, I will ... oh, mistress, thank you for being so good to me, for straightening me out and making me a good girl, Mistress! If-if you wish, I am ready now. For I am eager to be forgiven my naughtiness."
"Very well, Hilda. Bend down a little more now ... that's it. Now you will count the twenty spanks aloud so I can hear you, you understand?"
"Oh yes, I will, I will, Mistress!" Hilda gasped with an ecstatic fervor in her voice. She had pressed herself tightly against the back of the chair now, her bubbies mashing their flinty points against the upholstery, and she was beginning to weave her belly and loins against it too. It was the unmistakable sign of tumescence, and Louise Gilmore's humid eyes recognized it for what it was.
Once again the fingers of her left hand dug possessively into the soft round neck of the humbled naked servant. The ivory comb rose, poised in the air a moment and then fell with an angry "Spatt!"
"Ahhh! One!" Hilda called out in a flurried voice. The comb had bitten horizontally over the middle of her right buttock, which was already furiously crimsoned. Yet the teeth of the comb seemed to be imprinted with their myriad coruscations, standing out against the vivid background left by the manual spanking.
The pause was nearly half a minute now before the comb returned to flatten crisply against Hilda's left bottomsummit. Hilda's naked hips jerked from side to side, she glanced frantically back at Louise Gilmore, and then called out in a sobbing voice, "Two, ahh, oh, two, dear mistress!"
The silver-blonde imperatrix did not hurry the spanking with the comb. Pausing fully twenty seconds between blows, she inflicted them from the summits down to the tops of Hilda's thighs, alternating first right and then left, till she had reached the count of sixteen. Each of these strokes was announced, though Hilda's voice grew more and more flurried and interspersed with sobs and groans. But each time she glanced back at her mistress, and though her eyes were blinded with tears, there was a tremulous smile on those full red lips as if she were experiencing the most physical joy instead of suffering.
Now Louise Gilmore's left hand moved down to the small of Hilda's back, palming it; the comb rose, then descended with a violent vertical sting over the plump inner edge of the right buttock, just along the tender crease.
"Ahrrr, oh Mistress, Mistress, seventeen, oh seventeen, oh it hurts! I'll be a good girl, I will, I will!" the naked sufferer wailed, and her bottom jerked wildly from side to side, as her fingers frantically shifted over knees and she seemed to squnch forward even more fervently than before, bending down her head and shoulders again and tilting up her scarlet bottom as if begging for the combs even harder kisses.
The eighteenth spank descended vertically over the inner edge of the left globe this time, and Hilda's wail of pain was genuine, as she sobbingly announced the count and professed a sincere desire to be a very good girl from this moment forth.
The negligee was now yawning so widely that it hid nothing of Louise Gilmore's quivering, svelte nakedness. The curls of the dominatress' muff were suspiciously matted, for the liquescence of girl-cream released by this lascivious and voluptuous chastisement pronounced her own frantic erotic longings.
The final two blows fell, very quickly and almost as one, both striking diagonally over the inner edge of the right cheek and the base of the left globe. Hilda wailed and jerked and twisted, sobbing out the count, and then, covering her face with her hands, burst into hysterical sobs, her entire body shaking and quivering as with ague.
Louise Gilmore put the comb down with a shaking hand on the little tabouret nearby, and then briskly dragged off the negligee so that it fell at her feet, and was naked in her mules.
"My poor darling, I didn't mean to hurt you so much. Come, come for your kiss of peace now, Hilda dear," she murmured huskily.
Slowly, Hilda straightened, grimacing and. groaning, as her splotched and flaming bottom burned and throbbed implacably. She eased her knees off her palms, pressed her hands on the front ends of the chair arms, and slowly got down to her feet on the floor, teeteringly standing erect. As she turned, she saw that Louise Gilmore was naked. Tears running down her cheeks, her eyes widened with wonder, she moved slowly towards the imperatrix, holding out her arms, gasping tearfully, "Oh Mistress, I'll be so good, oh Mistress!"
"I know, I know my little darling, I know, Hilda," Louise Gilmore crooned. Her hands moved over the swollen, hot bottomglobes, as she pulled the naked maid up against her, till their cunts ground together. With a sobbing cry, Hilda flung her arms around her naked mistress, and panted, "Oh, Mistress, you don't know how much I've wanted you to love me-oh please, love me now, after I've been punished! I need it so, werkilich, Lieber Frau Gilmore!"
"Hush," Louise Gilmore whispered. And her thin lips merged against Hilda's ripe, moist, trembling lips, and her hands squeezed those burning bottomglobes, as she gave Hilda to understand that all was forgiven now ... and that now was the time of solace.
Whimpering little groans of delight now rose in place of those which had announced the anguish of the spanking. The two naked women stood together in that luxuriously furnished room, Louise's tongue flicking between Hilda's trembling, moist, parted lips, her cunt grinding rhythmically against Hilda's plump, luxuriously silky-thatched love-mound.
"Let's got to bed where we can be more comfy, darling," Louise Gilmore murmured, and reluctantly Hilda broke away from that passionate conclave. Then, her eyes shining through her ears, holding Louise Gilmore's hand, she walked with her as a child might walk with its mother toward a promised treat ... the double bed of Louise Gilmore, awaiting them for the assuagement of their needs.
Lying on her side, Hilda turned to her adored mistress, who merged against her, and now Hilda ventured her own tongue between her mistress's lips. Once again the rhythmic cunt rubbing began, and once again Hilda moaned with delight as she felt her mistress' supple fingers knead and palpate her sore and throbbing bare bottomcheeks.
Then suddenly she was shaken by the explosive fury of climax, and in her first Sapphic fulfillment, she knew at last what was meant by the true kiss of peace!
CHAPTER FOUR
Arthur Hadley and golden-haired Betty's beautiful mother Eleanor came back from their Mexican honeymoon on Sunday evening of the second week. In those two weeks, as we have seen in the first volume, the somewhat pompous and restrained widower had expanded and become far more candid and uninhibited, not only in his behavior but also his outlook, thanks to the brown-haired, mature Eleanor's indisputably captivating influence. He still couldn't get over her frank boldness in having arranged that voyeuristic session at the elegant bordello in Cuernavaca; it had revealed unexpected facets of Eleanor's character as well as her physical enthusiasm for sex. And he had had to admit that at first he had felt extremely guilty about participating in such an incredibly exotic if not perverse entertainment ... but what had followed had so enchanted him that he realized it would be extremely puritanical of him to reproach his beautiful, authoritative wife for displaying such a fascination with corporal punishment.
Moreover, he was intelligent enough and well-read enough-at least theoretically-to comprehend that her considerable interest in spanking and punishment was for her a kind of sexual stimulus which had probably compensated during the years of her widowhood for the loss of her husband in bed. There could be no doubt that, quite apart from the very evident proof that meticulously selected chastisement ceremonials had served to channel her lovely young daughter in the ways of propriety and decorum, they had psychologically served Eleanor as a kind of erotic activity which had kept her from indiscriminate love affairs or a hasty remarriage simply for the sake of finding any man to assuage the deep-rooted passion which throbbed in her ardent loins.
Until he had met her, to be sure, Arthur Hadley had had a kind of pedantic outlook on the uprearing of children, and he had come to the conclusion, along with many modern educators, that corporal punishment was far too old-fashioned and based on a domination through fear of the child to bring about the wished-for respect for parental authority. Then, when Eleanor had admitted to him by what means she had taught her golden-haired, pink-skinned, voluptuous young Betty to turn out to be the adorable, good-natured and wholesome teenager she was, he had been startled by the seeming anachronism which had employed such antiquated and seemingly barbarous methods in dealing with a twentieth century adolescent personality.
But it was fortunate for Arthur Hadley that he had brought his precocious and pampered eighteen-year-old daughter along with him to Malibu, because in comparison with the younger golden-haired girl, she had apparently disproved what he had considered his own wisdom in having brought Hester up in a purely intellectual way, by appealing to her reason and logic rather than resorting to the parental palm, hairbrush or strap. And he had actually come to the point, during his swift courtship of Betty's mother, of finding himself longing to give Hester what, to use the vernacular, might be termed "what was coming to her."
What was, then, his delight during the honeymoon in Mexico, to discover that Eleanor was not only a delightful companion with many cultural interests similar to his own, but also an extremely passionate sweetheart and lover, possessed of a kind of almost impish imagination when it came to the erotic arts, in whose pursuit he himself had acquired only a pedantic and far from practical knowledge. Because when he had watched, through the one-way panel, the pseudo-abduction and coercion and rape of the young bride by the two Mexican "bandits" in front of her gagged and bound husband, Arthur Hadley had been shocked to discover that he had been almost uncontrollably roused by what he had seen, and that the sight of a lovely female bottom squirming and weaving and reddening under the blows of a strap or a hairbrush or a whip had the power to render him savagely amorous. And it remained only for Eleanor in her womanly wisdom to let him see that this late-in-life stimulus was, far from being unhealthy or morbid, only the long-delayed outbreak of sexual impulses which he had far too long suppressed.
And so that Sunday evening of their homecoming was a joyous one for Eleanor and her lovely daughter Betty. Yet Eleanor Hadley did not exclude her stepdaughter Hester from the welcome she gave Betty in her homecoming. Going up to the bespectacled, hesitant, auburn-haired girl, Eleanor smilingly kissed Hester on the cheek and hugged her and said warmly, "I'm glad to be back, Hester dear, and I do hope that you've got to know your new sister a little better by now."
"Y-yes, I have," Hester stammered. Arthur Hadley glanced sharply at his daughter. Of course it was too much to expect Hester to call Eleanor "Mother" so soon, but just the same in his daughter's tone he detected a note of withdrawal and even hostility. And once again he felt his fingers flex and tense in the unmistakable urge to turn his daughter over his lap and administer to her the most salutary of spankings.
The colored maid Jennie had made a tasty summer supper to welcome the honeymooners back, a strawberry omelet, a huge pitcher of iced tea and a very palatable salad, and she had also baked biscuits and a rich, thickly frosted chocolate cake with yellow dough which was one of her specialties. Arthur and Eleanor sat at each end of the table, with Betty to her mother's right and Hester to the left, and uninhibited, warmhearted Betty broke the conversational ice by insisting that her mother and "Uncle Arthur" (she had agreed before her mother had left for Mexico to call her new father this for a time until she could accustom herself to the more intimate and meaningful title of "Father") relate to her something of the sights they had seen in that fascinating country south of the border.
Needless to say, neither Arthur nor Eleanor touched at all upon the bordello episode in Cuernavaca, but both of them were able to furnish ample details of the magnificent scenery, the delightful shops, the museums and the theaters, the nightclubs and the people they had encountered during their stay. Hester lost some of her diffidence and let herself be drawn into the conversation, eagerly asking her father about the historical landmarks he had visited, such as the battlefield on which the Austrian Emperior Maximilian had surrendered to Mexico's first great president, Benito Juarez.
At last it was time for bed, and Betty charmingly excused herself, going over to her "Uncle Arthur," bending down to him in his armchair, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly on the cheek. Hester, standing by, colored hotly at this mark of affectatious familiarity as she believed it to be. And while Eleanor glanced curiously at her new stepdaughter Hester drew herself up and said in a cool impersonal voice, "Good night, Father." Then, just glancing at her stepmother, she said listlessly, she said, "Good night," and then went up the stairs to her room.
"I'll come in to wish you good night, Betty dear, in a little while," Eleanor called after her golden-haired daughter. When the two girls had disappeared, she looked mischievously at her husband and murmured, "Well, Arthur, now it's going to be interesting to begin our new life together as parents of two very different and certainly unusual girls, don't you think?"
"Indeed it is, Eleanor darling." He rose from his chair and came over to her on the couch, seated himself beside her, slipped his left arm around her waist and took her hands in his right hand. "I just hope, however, that this doubly new problem of fatherhood isn't going to estrange us."
"If, sir," she archly countered, a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes, "by that you mean our own private lives, I don't think you have to have any worry on that account. That is of course, unless you're already tired of me."
"Eleanor!" he reproachfully gasped as he hugged her to him, lifted her hands to his lips and kissed their soft fingers ardently, "you know better than that!"
"Thank you, darling. I'll say this, you've certainly made a wonderful start as a husband and lover. Of course, I'll be much interested to see how you take to your new fatherly responsibilities. And I mean with Hester as well as with my girl. I want to be asolutely fair, Arthur. We must both be that way, you know. Although it's very true that Hester shows herself to be very badly in need of discipling, I think it would be a very great mistake to rush matters. I feel that somehow things will work out just naturally until the time comes that both of us agree that she must begin, late though it certainly is, to shape up, as the saying goes."
"Speaking of shapes, darling," he murmured in her ear, "I'm just crazy about yours. Let's go to bed right now."
"You really are a changed man, Arthur Hadley," she teased softly, rubbing noses with him. "All right. You go ahead and shave and do whatever you want to do, and I'll go and tuck Betty in and say goodnight to my darling, and then I'll join you."
"Aren't you going to say good night to Hester too?" he amusedly asked.
"I think she'd resent that. I saw her look at me when Betty was kissing me. I think you noticed it too, Arthur."
"Yes, I did. I could have slapped Hester for that silly, almost hurt look she had on her face. She's going to realize very soon that I was lucky enough to find the most wonderful mother for her and also the most wonderful sister."
"Betty and I thank you, Arthur darling. And now, I think before we forget ourselves and act like a couple of teenaged kids right here on the sofa in front of God and everybody, I'd better say my goodnight to Betty," She gave him a stinging kiss on the mouth, and then laughingly broke away from his grasp as she hurried up the stairs.
Betty had already changed into her pretty yellow cotton pajamas and was in bed with the sheets tucked up about her neck as her mother gently opened the door and came in. She sat up in bed and gasped, "Ohh, Mummy, I'm so glad you came in. I've so much to tell you."
Eleanor Hadley gently closed the door, but without turning on the light, and then made her way over to her daughter's bed and sat down on the edge. For a tender, lingering moment, the two put their arms around each other and kissed, a moment which Betty treasured because it at once let her know that she was still foremost in her mother's affections.
"There, darling," Eleanor Hadley whispered. "Now, why don't you tell me all these things you've got to tell me. Let me guess. It's about Hester and, unless I'm very much mistaken, her reaction to your friends. Am I right?"
"Right as rain, Mummy!" the lovely golden-haired teenager giggled. "Well, she's met Verna and Barbara, and the Gilmore girls and the Gilmore maid, and Nancy and Sally Jamison, too. And I've sort of spread the word, if you know what I mean, Mummy, so that all of them talked about how they got spanked when they were naughty."
"That's my clever little strategist," Eleanor Hadley stroked Betty's golden pageboy curls. "Your hair's getting quite long, darling. I suppose you'll have to have it cut before school starts, but we'll let it go until the last week of vacation, because I love you when your hair's so long. It's so womanly and feminine. Now then, just how did Hester react?"
"Well, Mummy, just like you thought she would. Mrs. Gilmore invited us over for tea early this week, and Janet and Connie were telling us how they all got a tanning, Tony included and even Hilda too. Hilda was there serving us tea and cookies and she piped up and explained how Mr. and Mrs. Gilmore punished her for spanking Tony."
"Well, that must have been a shock to our scholarly new stepsister, hmmmm?" Eleanor Hadley laughed.
"I should say it was, Mummy! And do you know, she said that she had never heard of such a horrible thing and she didn't know how all of them could sit there and talk about those horrible beatings-that's what she called them."
"Well, now, and what was the answer to that, darling?"
"I told her that I felt I ought to be punished when I was naughty, and that I loved you awfully, Mummy, and even Hilda came out and said that she felt like one of the family because she was treated like Janet and Connie when she was bad."
"That must have been quite a shock to Hester. Well, darling, quite apart from that, I suppose you've been a good girl all the time we've been gone?"
"I've tried. You can ask Jennie."
"No, darling, I don't work that way. First of all, Jennie loves you almost as much as I do and she wouldn't snitch on you, to use the colloquial expression. Second, I trust you enough to believe you when you say you've been a good girl. So what do you think of Hester, by and large?"
"I like her a lot, Mummy, I truly do," Betty confessed. "It's only that-well, I don't know just how to express it. I guess maybe she's a little older than I am and going to college and all makes her look at things differently. But sometimes she's so know-it-allish, I just want to-well, I just want to slap her!"
"I'll let you into a little secret, darling. So do your father and I. Yes, Betty, I think that if things happen the way I think they might, your new sister is going to find out what a spanking is like before she starts her first day in college. And now, give me a sweet goodnight kiss and then you get your beauty sleep, my little darling."
"Oh yes, Mummy darling!" Betty sighed, and then hugged her mother as their lips met in a long and fervent kiss.
Eleanor Hadley went back downstairs to the master bedroom, for it had been decided that she and Arthur would stay on the first floor and let the two girls have their rooms together on the second. There were practical reasons for this, so that the newly married couple would have no reason to fear intrusion of their desired amorous privacy. Jennie's room was at the other end of the first floor, just off the kitchen, and Eleanor had had it very attractively furnished because she was very fond of her colored maid.
When she entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her, Arthur Hadley was in his pajama bottoms, just emerging from the bathroom. He flushed like a schoolboy and Eleanor giggled and held out her arms to him.
"I see I'll have to hurry to catch up," she quipped, as he held her tightly and began to kiss her neck and cheeks and her lips. "For heaven's sake, darling, such ardor two weeks after or wedding day is most satisfying, I can tell you! Now don't rumple my dress and let me hurry and get ready!"
"I don't even want to spare you that much time away from me," he muttered, his prick hardening as he felt her body merge to his, her loins knowingly and teasingly rubbing over his crotch.
"It's nice to know you're wanted," Eleanor teased as she nibbled his earlobe with her sharp white teeth and then laughingly broke away as he tried to pull her towards the bed. "Uh uh, darling, you just get back into bed and wait till I come there. I won't be a jiffy."
"If you are, I might be tempted to give you some of the same medicine you give Betty," he quipped, and then his face suddenly went very red, because his beautiful new wife was staring at him with a teasing little smile and very wide, humid eyes.
"Well, now, I think that was the least inhibited speech you've ever made to me. Arthur Hadley," she declaimed. "We'll talk about that later. But right now, I want to get all nice and ready for you, because I'm all nice and hot for my wonderful new husband. So be a good boy and wait, you hear?"
With this, she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, while Arthur Hadley got into bed, his prick threatening to burst through the fly of his pajama bottoms. He reached over, took a pack of cigarettes, lit one, lay back and waited, his heart pounding wildly. Decidedly, he felt like a young man again, and it was all Eleanor's doing.
A few minutes later, the brunette emerged in a filmy white nylon nightie that left nothing to the imagination so far as its diaphanous adherence to her opulent charms was concerned. He could see the thick, dark brown triangle of her muff, the heavy jut of her beautiful round titties and the dark peaks which signifed those sweet, erogenously sensitive nipple buds which his fingers and lips so loved to linger over, as well as the prick-hardening flair of her haunches and beautifully, muscled, round, solid thighs, whose muscular ardor he had learned so deliciously during their fiery Mexican honeymoon.
"Here, let me have a puff or two of that before you put it out, darling," she murmured as she slipped into bed beside him, reached over him to take the cigarette from the ashtray beside the bed. As she moved back beside him, her free hand crept down under the sheets and came to rest against the rigid polarity of his prick, and she gave him a tantalizing little squeeze between thumb and forefinger that nearly made him burst.
"You're going to pay dearly for that, young lady," he threatened, his voice hoarse and unsteady with longing. Eleanor Hadley puffed at the cigarette, tilted back her head, closed her eyes and dreamily let a series of blue rings rise towards the ceiling. Then she handed back the cigarette to him, he took a last, nervous puff and crushed it out, and then turned to her. With a moan, she moved closer to him, her mouth instantly merged to his and her nimble tongue flicked in and out between his lips. His hands began to fondle her titties and he drew her over onto her side as he turned towards her, so that she could feel the stab of his bulging cock against her furry crotch.
"Eleanor, Eleanor!" he murmured huskily. "You're the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me! I tell you one thing, even if Betty is naughty, I'm going to discount her first spanking as a kind of dividend for having struck up an introduction between the two of us. She deserves a reward for throwing that beach ball the way she did, and I'll never forget it."
"I'll tell her," Eleanor whispered, nibbling his earlobe with her sharp, white teeth. "But don't forget, young man, we both have to agree when the time comes for you to give Betty her first paternal spanking. Remember, all these past six years she's known only me as her disciplinarian, and just as your Hester is going to have to adjust to her very first chastisement, so Betty is going to have to accustom herself to having a man in the house again."
"Agreed. In the meantime, since I have the original first edition right here beside me, there's no reason why I can't take out my spanking impulses on you," he whispered, as his right hand moved over to squeeze one of her luscious, ample yet marvelously satiny resilient buttocks.
"Sadist!" she giggled irrepressibly. "Sadist isn't so."
"Ow!" he groaned in mock alarm. "That really deserves a swatting," and with this he lifted his right hand and gave Eleanor a stinging, noisy slap on her bottom.
"Mmmmm," she moaned lasciviously, wriggling up tightly against him so he could feel the furry curls of her cunt practically inviting his cock to tear through the single thickness of nightie and come house itself in her inviting depths. "You're quite a caveman, Arthur, lover ... now hurry, I'm just dying for you to put it into me...."
With this she lifted the hems of her nightie while he swiftly dragged down his pajama bottoms, and then with as gasp of ecstasy he felt the merger of their naked, palpitating, hot flesh. At once his prick had gouged against the thick, crisp curls of her cunthole, and her lips crushed his furiously as she wound her arms around him and surrendered herself.
He could feel himself edging between the pulsing pink lips of her vulva, and he heard her groan as he slipped down and began to forage deep into her channel till, in a long continuous thrust, he felt himself imbedded to his balls.
She clamped her left leg over his, arching to him as her tongue boldly and wantonly furled between his lips, while she moved her lips in tiny little agitated movements so as to scrape his impaling ramrod to this angle and that against the crannies of her concupiscent cunt.
"Welcome home, darling," she breathed, as with a groan of delight, he rolled her over onto her back, wanting to take the initiative, and then they began to fuck with a steady and deliriously savoring rhythm which finally quickened as their passions mounted. And these tears which sprang to Eleanor's eyes as her body shuddered with the furious tumult of orgasm were indeed the happiest tears of all!
CHAPTER FIVE
"Eleanor! It's Louise." It was the Friday afternoon following the return of the Hadleys from Mexico, and the brown-haired matron had just picked up her phone extension in her bedroom in answer to the first ring. Eleanor glanced at herself in her boudoir mirror and smiled. Marriage was certainly agreeing with her, for she didn't look her thirty-nine years at all. And her fine white skin, tanned not only from Malibu but from the ardent sun of Mexico, seemed more vividly glowing than ever, proof that when a widow finds even at this mature and late stage in life a man capable of satisfying her in bed, she too undergoes a kind of physical renaissance.
"Hi, Louise. How's everything over at your house?"
"That's what I was calling you about, dear," came the voice of the silver-blonde dominatress "Are you still interested in continuing that little project of education impression which you spoke about just before you and Arthur went off to the land of the Aztecs?"
"Decidedly I am, Louise. Hester is getting more difficult every day. I am beginning to see what poor Arthur had to go through all this time, and without any disrespect meant for his first wife, all I can say is that the two of them let themselves be buffaloed by that very consummately precocious young lady."
"I thought you might feel that way, Eleanor," Louise Gilmore laughed softly. "Well, if your stepdaughter happens to be around, and Betty too, you might want to send them over about five o'clock. That is when Janet is going to pay off all the black marks in her ledger. The poor darling accumulated a great many this week, and apparently last week when her score was only fifty, she was in hopes of putting off her reckoning, with the idea that the score would remain the same. You know, I think I told you yesterday, that there was some horseplay with the children and even Hilda participating, which earned Janet an unscheduled dose of the leather sole."
"I know. Betty told me about it. That was the famous tea party at which my new daughter expressed herself so dramatically, wasn't it?"
"The very same," Louise Gilmore laughed again. "I'm afraid she'll really consider me a barbarian when she sees what poor Janet will have to undergo this evening. It's a total of a hundred fifty now, and for the hour preceding our little settling of the score, that naughty young lady is being shut up in the doghouse."
"My gracious!" Eleanor Hadley said interestedly. "Janet must really have been out of line to have earned that!"
The Gilmore "doghouse" was nothing more nor less than an old packing crate about six feet long and two feet deep, one end of which had been cut away to resemble the opening of a canine dwelling. It was kept in the basement of the Gilmore house, and whenever Tony or the two girls had particularly offended their parents, they were invariably sentenced to spend an hour of incarceration for the purpose of meditating over their naughtiness just prior to the painful retribution exacted from their adolescent bottoms. Louise Gilmore, Eleanor Hadley well knew, was more severe than she herself was apt to be with Betty, and went even further along the road of ritualism and ceremonial to drive home the painful but unforgettable lessons she wished her offspring to acquire in an indelible way.
"I'm afraid she was, Eleanor," was the answer. "You know, I allow her about ten days to wipe out the black marks in the book, and today was the last day. But on Monday, the impertinent minx argued with me over what subjects she was going to take her first semester of college-by the way, you and I must both have a little conversation on curricula where both Hester and Janet are concerned."
"Whenever you like, Louise. But do go on."
"Yes, of course. Well, as I was saying, she was most impertinent and I told her to go put down another twenty-five. What did she do but stamp her foot and say that I was being unfair, that she was grown-up now, old enough to go to college, and she thought I ought to reconsider the subject of spankings where she was concerned. I simply told her to put down fifty instead of twenty-five, which brought her score up to a hundred. And I told her that for stamping her foot, I was going to think of something extra, unless she made sufficient amends between then and today to warrant leniency."
"And I take it she didn't."
"You're right as always, Eleanor. No, she decidedly didn't. Yesterday evening, after Fred had come home, she tried to go over my head, so to speak, by appealing to him, and gave him quite a lengthy and lawyer-like argument. I must say it was an ill-advised attempt on her part. Fred told her that she'd just been itching for a good sound spanking and he was leaving the decision up to me. As for her being too old for it, he let her know then and there that until she got married and left our house, she was going to be spanked whenever she deserved it, no matter if she was twenty-one or more."
"That must have floored poor Janet," Eleanor said sympathetically.
"It's her own fault, Eleanor. She just will not learn. You see, it upsets her so much to think of being humiliated and have her younger sister and brother find out about her being spanked like a child, and yet the paradox is that she apparently goes out of her way to invite the very treatment which so upsets her. Maybe it's a quirk in her nature, or just youthful rebellion. But at any rate, I told her that I didn't much appreciate her flouting my decision and that she would only aggravate her case. So then she stamped her foot again and said we were both treating her like a little child and we'd both be sorry some day. Well, Fred blew up at that point. He took her by the ear and smacked her bottom a couple of times with the flat of his hand and told her she could just march back to the ledger and write down another fifty, and that if she didn't submit herself properly today, I was to tell him when he got back from his out-of-town trip this Sunday, and he would personally take a hand and do whatever I had failed to do."
"And so?"
"And so," Louise Gilmore laughed, "Janet is now in the doghouse thinking over her mistakes and I can assure you she is a very chastened young lady. Before I put her in there, she said to me very humbly, 'Mother, I'm very sorry I acted up so, and I'm going to take my punishment from you without any fuss, I promise.' So I told her that I had heard that speech from her several times over the past year and I was going to make very certain that she wasn't going to forget the lesson by inviting some of her best friends over to watch her being spanked. And that, after this long preamble, Eleanor dear, is why I'm calling. I think that if Hester and Betty were to come over by five, Hester would be shocked out of her complacency. And I want her to hear what Janet has to say when the punishment is over, so as to change Miss Hester's opinion about barbarians. You see, in my way I'm just as generous to all my children as you are to Betty and I never deny them anything and I don't let punishment interefere. Long ago Fred and I reasoned it out that instead of withholding something the children wanted and probably justifiably deserved, it was just as well to spank and wipe out the error and the sin rather than deprive them, which has always struck me as being a very negative way of discipline."
"I'm a hundred percent in agreement with you there, Louise. Very well, I'll send Betty and Hester over. And one thing more, Louise-"
"Yes, dear?"
"One of these days I may want to borrow that famous new leather sole of yours. I'll tell you a little more about a plan that's been brewing in my mind the past few days. Maybe when we play bridge together with the Jamisons and the Carruthers. See you then, Louise."
CHAPTER SIX
Hester Hadley stared with disbelief at her golden-haired stepsister. "You mean poor Janet is actually going to be punished in front of strangers?" she gasped.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Hes," Betty expostulated. "Who say we're strangers? Janet and I have been pals for a long time, and I'm even closer to Connie."
"I know," Hester protested, "but it's shocking! I never heard of such a thing, a parent actually wanting somebody else to watch her daughter get sp-spanked. I don't want to go!"
"Mother would like you to, though," was Betty's insinuating reply, "and so would your Dad."
"How do you know what my father wants me to do, Betty?" Hester indignantly flashed.
"Maybe," Betty said coolly, "I better tell Mom the way you feel. She might want to say something to you."
"Oh, if you're going to make a federal case out of it, I'll go," Hester peevishly exclaimed. "But that doesn't mean I agree with Mrs. Gilmore's methods. Why, Janet is as old as I am, and it's absolutely terrible to punish her that humiliating way!"
"I know how you feel, Hes," the lovely golden-haired teenager patiently countered, "but just the same, you better keep your opinions to yourself when you're in Mrs. Gilmore's house. Come on, it's nearly five o'clock. I told you that Mom asked me to say she'd like to have you go with me. And I'll tell you something else, Janet doesn't mind at all."
"She doesn't?" Hester echoed. She couldn't understand the motivation of all these girls Betty seemed to know so well. Why, if she were going to be punished in this ridiculous and humiliating and painful way, having anyone else know about it would be the last thing in the world she'd want.
"Of course, you silly," Betty was talking to her stepsister as if the latter were her own age instead of two years older. "Janet says it helps take her mind off things. She feels she's among friends and it makes it easier for her to stand her spanking. Hurry up now!"
It was pretty, milky skinned, brown-haired Connie Gilmore who opened the door to Betty's ring and ushered them silently out of the living room and down the hall and up the stairs to Janet's bedroom.
Tony was out biking with some of his cronies from school, with the strict admonition not to come back until about six o'clock in time to wash up for supper. Mr. Gilmore had suddenly gone out of town again and wouldn't be back until the following Thursday evening. So there was hardly any final court of appeal for poor Janet except her mother, and her mother had already acted as jury and judge and was now about to assume the role of executioner.
Connie glanced at her wristwatch. "Mother is just about ready to start," she whispered. "I guess Janet has been doing a lot of thinking in the doghouse. I sneaked out there a little while ago and I asked her how she felt, and Janet said it was something fierce to be in there all by herself thinking about what was going to happen at five o'clock, and she was sorry she had been so uppity to Mom and Dad."
"Doghouse?" Hester stared at the pretty brunette uncomprehendingly.
"Tell her, Connie," Betty said laconically as they walked up the stairs towards Janet's bedroom.
"Well," Connie hastily explained to the astounded auburn-haired daughter of Arthur Hadley, "whenever anyone of us is really awfully naughty, like talking back or making a scene of showing temper, we're put in the doghouse. It's a big packing crate cut out like a real doghouse, and when you go in there, you think about how wrong you've been and how you're going to be punished for it. None of us like it."
"I shouldn't think so!" Hester gasped, glancing at Betty with widened eyes. But her stepsister put a finger to her lips to caution Hester against any such outspoken criticisms of Louise Gilmore's procedural methods, and then Connie knocked gently at the closed door of the bedroom and was told by her mother to "Come in, girls!"
Connie opened the door and stood back to let Betty and Hester enter. The latter caught her breath and put her hand to her gaping mouth at the scene before her. Betty, swiftly realizing that Hester was overcome with dismayed surprise, grasped her firmly by the elbow and steered her over to a row of chairs which was placed at the wall opposite the bed and made her sit down, herself taking a place next to Hester, while Connie quietly slipped into the third chair.
The pretty eighteen-year-old brunette was stretched out on her bed, her pillow under her stomach, and her slim ankles were corded to the posts at the foot of the bed, while her wrists were similarly bound to the headposts. She was stark naked, and over her head was a kind of black hood into which slits had been cut for the eyes, mouth and nose. Hester could not take her eyes off the prostrate, straddled naked body of Janet Gilmore. And what she noticed first of all was Janet's bottom, the skin of which was a warm, flawlessly smooth olive tint. It was pear-shapted, and the cheeks were exceptionally plump and set rather tightly together, the shadowy crease between them broadening just at the base of the buttocks. Janet's thighs were delightfully curvaceous, and her calves were slim and sinuously set, the muscles already fluidly in play to denote her nervous anticipation of what was to ensue.
Louise Gilmore, in a black cotton dress, looked quite severe, and her face was grave. In her right hand, she held the little rubber dog whip which had become the primary instrument of chastisement in the household, when correction of a serious nature was in order.
"Very well," she said in a calm voice, "I think we are ready to begin. Janet, you understand that this session will clear your ledger, and that you have a total of one hundred and fifty black marks on it to this moment."
"Y-yes, M-Mother," Janet's voice was muffled, and she seemed to keep her face down against the sheets. The skin of her bottom twitched spasmodically, and then a long shiver ran up and down her straddled thighs. Hester could not take her eyes off the naked girl, and Betty surreptitiously entwined her fingers with Hester's and squeezed them significantly, intimating to her stepsister that she mustn't speak. For that matter, Hester couldn't have uttered a sound if she had wanted to; she had never before in all her life imagined that such a spectacle could take place, much less in the presence of witnesses. And the sight of that little black whip dangling from Louise Gil-, more's hand made her positively ill. It was unthinkable that a girl as grownup as Janet should actually resign herself to being beaten with it, and, worst of all, to allow an audience like this!
"Very well, dear. One hundred fifty spanks, then. Since we have always agreed that the demerits in the ledger must be wiped out no later than ten days after the entry of the first portion of these marks, you unfortunately are going to be expected to stand the entire amount here and now. Is that understood, Janet?"
"Y-yes, M-Mother," again Janet's voice was the solid, rather heavy gloves relaxed with a vivid muffled and faint. But this time the muscles of her little shiver that spoke eloquent volumes on the lovely naked brunette's summoning up of all her bare bottom seemed to contract, and then again courage before the imminent ordeal.
"To make matters easier for you, Janet," her your punishment into five periods of thirty spanks each, with a pause between each set of thirty to give you time to rest a little."
"T-thank you, M-Mother." Once again, Janet's voice was faint and tremulous.
Louise Gilmore placed herself at the left edge of the bed, slowly raised her right arm and then brought down the little black rubber dog whip with a hissing onrush through the air as it clung over the tops of Janet's bulky olivesheened hips. Hester Hadley uttered a stifled gasp, which Betty reproved by digging her fingernails into Hester's wrist. Under the first cut, Janet's naked bottom stiffened, and Hester could see the brunette's bare toes twist and curl, but no sound was heard. She marveled at the victim's composure and stoicism. The whip was short and made of rubber, extremely flexible and pliant, but nevertheless in Hester's untutored eyes it looked like the most ferocious implement devised by the torturers of the Holy Inquisition for the martyrdom of helpless females. Her eyes were huge and hypnotically fixed on the straddled, masked, naked young sufferer tethered to the bed.
A second blow now followed, a little lower down, leaping across both upper bottomglobes.
Again Janet's gluteal muscles contracted and then relaxed, making her bare bottom quake in the most provocative manner, and Hester believed that she could hear a faint indrawn breath from the victim. Only two lashes and already the finely grained olive-warm bare skin of Janet's upper hip slopes bore two vivid pink strips. The total of a hundred fifty spanks summarily announced by Janet's mother seemed to Hester to be an intolerable martyrdom, medieval in its cruelty. But try as she would, she could not wrest her gaze away from the condemned bottom, and to her own embarrassment, she found herself comparing Janet's naked seat with her younger stepsister's plump round nether globes.
The third cut fell after about ten seconds, pursuing the descending pathway in horizontal pattern, inflicting a third stripe which made three neatly parallel lines standing out on the warm olive epidermis of Janet's naked behind. Once again, the brunette managed to suppress any outcry, but her fingers convulsively clutched the sheets and she lifted her head slightly, staring through the slits of her black cloth mask at the mahogany headboard of her bed. Connie Gilmore sat back, her hands demurely folded in her lap, a sympathetic look on her pretty face, as she followed her older sister's ordeal, doubtless reflecting to herself how fortunate she was in not being in Janet's place. Oddly enough, Mrs. Gilmore had imposed the matter of keeping a ledger of demerits only on Janet and not on Connie or Tony, who were most usually punished shortly after any single commission of a misdemeanor. This alteration of the Gilmore regimen was, obviously, intended to emphasize to the oldest of the Gilmore offspring that the age of eighteen did not immunize her from corporal chastisement and let her at the same time observe with what impartial and severely just authority her mother acted in the role of supervisory guardian.
The fourth and now the fifth lashes of the little black rubber dog whip fell with hardly a space between them, yet each continued the deliberately methodical pattern of horizontal stripes in a downward path over both upreared, tightly stretched bare bottom cheeks. Janet's first audible gasp was heard after the fifth, and her hindquarters seemed to clench protectively, and then to relax, so that for an instant Hester Hadley could espy the ambery furrow which bisected those resilient, spaciously broad bottomovals.
Louise Gilmore paused a moment now, studying the thin bright pink weals thus far imprinted on her daughter's bare buttocks. During this interlude, Janet nervously shifted herself over the pillow, tentatively trying the extent of tension on her bound wrists and ankles to avoid chafing her delicate limbs in useless jerking, as she anticipated the growing severity and pain of her punishment. Now once again the little whip rose slowly in the air, hovering over the condemned naked behind like a Damoclean sword. Then it flashed down, bridging both buttocks a few inches above the ripest curves, and Janet's bare hips executed a flurried weaving from side to side, a licentious maneuver which suggested that she was beginning to seek distraction from the stinging kisses of the little whip by frictioning her soft femininity against the pillow which pressed so tightly against that most intimate niche.
The next four cuts were given almost together, expertly placed by the silver-blonde dominatress so that the very last-the tenth spank in all of Janet's lengthy punishmentbit home over the exact center of those ripened summits. Again Hester could hear Janet suck in her breath rather loudly, an this time the brunette turned her masked face back to her left as if to look at her beautiful, stern executioner.
All this seemed to have taken a century, though actually it had taken not more than two or three minutes; it appeared to Hester that it would take hours before the terrifyingly barbaric total of a hundred and fifty strokes from that cruel little whip could be meted out. And in what condition, Hester asked herself, would poor Janet's bottom be then? Why, her flesh was sure to be scarred and bleeding. Oh it was monstrous, incredible in this day and age!
Already beads of sweat gleamed on Hester's forehead, and her breath came more and more quickly, while her bosom rose and fell under the prey of a singlar emotion which she mistook for horrified fascination and incredulity, but which, unbeknownst to herself, was actually her first naive reaction to voluptuous domestic correction.
Once again Louise Gilmore paused, moved slightly to the left, and then again her right arm rose to poise the little whip in the air over the twitching bottom of her errant daughter. It descended with a whistling hiss that made Hester's blood run cold, and the black thong clung tenaciously across both huddling olivetinted bottomcheeks about a quarter of an inch below the mark left by the tenth spank. Janet's hips seemed to jerk under the burning sting of the little whip, and again she lifted her masked face, but still not a word of supplication emerged.
By the time the twentieth spank had been inflicted, Louise Gilmore had entirely covered the area between the tops of Janet's hips and the succulent, upswelling base of the spacious, solid and meaty bottomovals. Janet's toes were twisting and curling ceaselessly now, while her fingers had begun to dig into her moist soft palms. She shifted herself lightly over the pillow, testing the maximum play of the bonds which fixed round her slim ankles, and seeking a more comfortable pose with her left cheek pressed down against the sheets, awaited the resumption of her punishment.
Hester Hadley sat there trembling, the presence of Connie and Betty virtually forgotten. The world seemed to revolve around her and that olive-sheened naked pinioned body there beyond her on the bed, and the svelte, tall imperatrix from whose right hand the sinister little implement of fustigation dangled.
The next series of ten lashes, again horizontally inflicted, seemed to be directed with the aim of "touching up" those areas of bare skin between the tops of the girl's hips and her thighs which had not been visited by the wicked little lash. Despite herself, Hester had to marvel at the dexterity and accuracy of Louise Gilmore's aim in planting the little black rubber thong across both quivering hillocks and deepening the overall decor of bright pink stripes which, by the time her arm descended for the thirtieth time, appeared now to leave not an inch of skin untouched on that plump, upjutting bare bottom.
Janet had begun to gasp aloud, wordless interjections of "Ohh!" and "Ahhh!" towards the last five strokes, while again her masked face turned rather quickly over her left shoulder toward the lovely silver-blonde executioner. Now Louise Gilmore walked slowly around the foot of the bed to take her stance on the right side, a procedure intended to "equalize" the sting of the whipping. From this vantage point, the end of the black rubber thong would nip the tender flesh along the outer sector of Janet's left bottomglobe, whereas previously the edge of the other cheek had received the force of that biting impact.
Then she spoke: "You may have a minute, Janet, to compose yourself before I begin the next series.
At once, the masked brunette uttered a long tremulous sigh, and seemed to adjust herself as best she could in the relative liberty granted her by the cords fixing around her slim wrists and ankles. She squirmed her loins feverishly over the pillow-almost, to Hester's blushing consternation, as if she were trying to distract herself from the fiery heat of her already well-whipped bottom by masturbating herself through this self-applied friction!-lifted her head and turned her masked face to this side and then to that, flexed her slim fingers as well as her dainty bare toes, and then exhaled another sigh as she stammered somewhat huskily, "I-I'm ready, M-Mother. I'm awfully sorry, really I am."
"So am I, dear," Louise Gilmore gravely remarked as she lifted up the little whip, her eyes contemplating the quivering, broad ovals of her daughter's plump, pillow-uplifted naked bottom.
Hester wanted to cry out, to rise from her chair, to rush to Janet and intercede for the courageous young beauty, but her tongue was seemingly paralyzed against the roof of her mouth and she felt herself rooted to her chair. She could only watch in a mounting stupefaction as the silver-blonde dominatress suddenly brought down the wicked-looking little black rubber thong with a crisp impact across the tops of Janet's left hip. And this time it appeared to Hester that Louise Gilmore was inflicting the spanking to just one buttock instead of both of them as hitherto.
At once she perceived an alteration of Janet's stoicism which had till this moment taxed her powers of credulity, for she had found herself telling herself that if this were happening to her, she would be shrieking out in pain at every stroke and jerking madly at her bonds to break free. However, as just the tip of the thong seemed to dart down and smartly kiss the outer edge at the top of Janet's left hip, the masked brunette convulsively started, lifted her head and emitted a sobbing: "Aaaah, oh, Mother, Mother, I won't do it again!"
The muscles in Janet's bare calves flexed violently, till the smooth olive skin of those lovely contours seemed to be especially taut.
Hester could see the lovely, rather plumpish thighs shivering from kneehollow up to the base of that vividly striped bottom, and she found herself unconsciously entwining her fingers with Betty's, as if to take thereby some fulcrum of sanity against the inhuman torture she was witnessing.
Deliberately Louise Gilmore continued the fustigation. The thirty-first through fortieth lashes bit home with the very end of the whip stinging the outer edge of the left buttock, and progressing from the top of the hip down to the base, exactly in the pattern of the previous thirty strokes. They really stung, if Janet's almost instantaneous reactions were to be credenced; at each stinging little thud of the rubber thong on bare girl flesh, Janet's hips would jerk towards the right, the globes of her inflamed bottom violently contracting and then relaxing, and twice her bottom seemed to leave the pillow and arch up under the impetus of the little whip's fiery kiss. Also, in a low sobbing voice, she began to call out. though in a very restrained way: "Oohhh Ouch, Oh Mother!-Ooooh, I'm sorry, I'll be good from now on, ouch, ooooh!"
The next ten lashes visited the inner edge of the right buttock very near the crease, and again with just the tip of the black rubber thong. This was an exquisitely sensitive area, again judging from Janet's frantic squirmings and twistings over the pillow, and Hester observed that the victim now began to turn her masked face back to her relentless executioner with almost each of those ten cuts.
By now, Janet had had exactly one third of her count, which is to say fifty strokes out of the hundred and fifty to which she had been condemned by the no-longer-postponable demerit total in her ledger book. Louise Gilmore allowed her daughter an extra moment of reprieve by leaning down to study the furiously inflamed skin of both twitching bottomglobes, and then proceeded to Hester's aghast surprise, to inflict the last ten strokes of this second series of thirty entirely to Janet's left thigh and progressively descending from the base of her bottomcheek to the dimpled, delicately veined hollow of her soft knee. This change of target seemed to distress the pretty, naked masked brunette more than the preceding fifty lashes had done, if one were to judge by her spasmodic wrigglings, and her attempt at clenching her thighs tightly shut, which of course could not be done because the cords of her ankles yawned her pretty bare legs practically a yard apart. Also, she now loudly announced her discomfort that was more high pitched than at any time previously: "Aiii! Ohh, Mother, please! Owww! I'll be good, Mother! I won't do it again, Mother! Ouch, Ohh dear, Ohhh!"
Once again Louise Gilmore paused and then slowly went round to the other side of the bed and calmly observed, "Take a minute's break, Janet." And once again the naked brunette shunted herself uneasily across the pillow, twisted her toes and fingers, moved her face from side to side, trying apparently to find some more comfortable resting place for her cheek in which to give herself the maximum degree of self-control in enduring resumption of her punishment.
When the minute was up, Louise Gilmore resumed the spanking with ten slowly spaced cuts across the other thigh, applying the first just below the base of the upswelling plump bottomoval and then laying neat bright pink parallel lines down the hollow of the knee. Janet squealed and sobbed, frantically twisting her masked face towards her mother, her hands opened and closed into desperate little fists, but she did not fight her bonds. At the conclusion of this series of ten lashes, she lay quivering restlessly over the pillow, and her loins seemed to grind spasmodically back and forth with an irregular rhythm which, to Hester, appeared to be scandalously obscene.
Still remaining on the left side of the bed and standing close to the quivering naked girl, Louise Gilmore continued Janet's spanking with ten vertical cuts this time, each of which smacked noisily down on the brunette's plump left buttock. Beginning with the outer edge of the globe, the silver-blonde imperatrix brought the whip down quickly, with about three seconds between cuts, till she had reached the sinuously distended crease between the girl's bare nether globes. These new pink stripes crisscrossed with the already paling marks, but they apparently caused Janet acute distress, for her sobs and tears redoubled in intensity, and now for the first time she began to jerk her wrists against the soft felt cords wound round them and connecting to the posts at the head of the bed. After another slight pause, Louise Gilmore walked round to the girl's right side and inflicted ten exactly vertical cuts over the other buttock, again from the outer edge of the globe in towards the ambery intimate groove which separated the luscious, meaty hillocks of Janet Gilmore's posterior. These too drew poignant sobs and little tearful wails of "Aaaaah, Mother! Ohh, don't, oh please no more! Oh, I'll be good, so good! I didn't mean to be rude, I truly didn't, Mother! Eeeowww!" And her naked young body squirmed and jerked fitfully at almost every cut, Hester horrifiedly observed.
Janet had now received ninety spanks, or three fifths of her total punishment. Louise Gilmore allowed her daughter a two-minute pause this time, and laid the whip down on the edge of the bed while she slowly smoothed her dress with both hands, flexing her fingers as if gathering new strength for the completion of her daughter's chastisement. Hester's temples were throbbing as with fever, and she stared at Louise Gilmore as if at any moment she wanted to get up and plead with the woman to stop whipping that poor tortured girl. Janet's bottom was violently inflamed now, and the bright pink streaks with their imprinted horizontal marks over both straddled thighs offered a lasciviously contrasting pattern to the crisscross design imposed over her naked buttocks. Hester asked herself how it was possible for that poor girl to endure sixty more of those dreadful spanks with that cruel little whip and where there would be room to hit that darkened, throbbing plump flesh on which the olive warmth and smoothness had long since vanished.
Glancing at her wristwatch, Louise Gilmore called out, "Time, Janet!" With a sobbing gasp, the naked brunette stiffened herself and turned her face so as to press her left cheek down against the rumpled sheets. Her hands clenched into brave little fists, her squirming toes dug down into the sheets, and all her body seemed to-stiffen. But she could-not control the sporadic twitching of the angrily reddened skin of her behind nor of the welted thigh columns, a sure sign of her enervation.
Hester wanted to look away, to close her eyes, but she could not. It was as if she were riveted to her chair and invisible fingers were drawing up her eyelids so that she could not close them. As in an incredible nightmare that was all too real, she watched Louise Gilmore pick up the whip, step back towards the end of the bed and, measuring her distance with practiced eye, apply a diagonal cut which sent the tip of the black rubber thong flicking down against the outer edge of Janet's right buttock and drew the lash itself down across the plump, upswelling globe to the inner edge of the base of the cheek.
"Oww OOhhhh! Oh please, Mother, it's awful! I'll never be naughty again, I promise I won't! I didn't mean to be rude to you and Dad!" Janet wailed, her composure deserting her for the first time. Her face quickly turned round over her left shoulder, and her body jerked and squirmed with uncontrollable gyrations of her violently striped hips. Again her wrists jerked at the felt cords, and her head rose, as her mother continued to apply this set of ten spanks all in diagonal strokes encompassing that single buttock. After having inflicted these, Louise Gilmore moved to the other side of the bed and applied ten more to the other buttock, in the same diagonal design, and each of these was announced with a piercing squeal and a sobbing plea: "Eeeeyarhhh!! Ohh, please not so hard, Mother dear! Ahrrhh!
Oooooh, I'll be awfully good, oh please let up, Mother! Owwwouuuu!!! I'll never do it again, Mother!"
Louise Gilmore paused about thirty seconds after this second set of ten, and then concluded the fourth series of thirty spanks by directing ten quick cuts of the little whip, all horizonally lodged between the lower summits and the base of her daughters violently discolored naked behind. Janet's hips tossed and twisted and jerked, her loins twisting the pillow and sometimes Hester could see for an infinitesimal moment a glimpse of the black curly pubis which fleeced the girl's virgin mount. The meaty bottomovals sporadically huddled, clenched and yawned, and Janet's head lifted at each cut as her cries and plaintive assurances of good behavior in the future became more and more harrowing and flurried, attesting to the unmistakable fact that she was rapidly losing what little remained of her sorely tried endurance.
"Two minutes again, Janet, and then for your final dose," the silver-blonde disciplinarian announced.
Those two minutes seemed to tick by like eternities for the spellbound, horrified Hester Hadley. That poor bottom, those lovely tortured thighs! That inflamed, twitching flesh which never seemed to be able to relax now, and the shaking shoulders as Janet muffled her sobs by pressing her mouth against the moist, rumpled sheets of her bed. And how those little fingers piteously opened and closed, the firm little fists clenching, then opening as Janet's fingers clawed the air as if trying to exorcise the burning demons who had invaded her opulent young bottom!
"Time, Janet, get ready," Louise Gilmore now calmly decreed as she again picked up the whip from the edge of the bed on which she had laid it. Hester could feel Betty's fingers squeeze hers convulsively, and with a covert glance at her golden-haired youngter stepsister, Arthur's daughter noticed that Betty's blue eyes were humid and wide and shining and as hypnotically fixed on that vividly streaked and up-arched condemned bottom as were her own.
Louise Gilmore herself seemed to take pity on the seriously inflamed condition of her daughter's seat, so she proceeded to inflict the last thirty spanks with a merciful swiftness. Nonetheless, it was a severe ordeal for poor Janet; twenty of the lashes were directed over the girl's straddled naked thighs, ten to each column from knee-hollow to the base of the shuddering welted globe, and then the final ten cuts were laid on with what seemed exemplary vigor right over the plumpest curves of Janet's naked, tossing, jerking bottom. These last ten drew a shriek each time the little whip fell with an angry crack, and again Janet's hips lunged wildly, sometimes arching up in the air and once again revealing to Hester's shocked gaze the telltale triangle of black pussy curls which proclaimed the hiding place of Janet's tender young cunt.
"There, my dear," Louise Gilmore said as she moved back to the dresser drawers and, opening the top one, put the little whip away. "Your ledger is clean now, and I hope for your sake, Janet, that you'll think very seriously over the lesson you've learned this afternoon and not get yourself in trouble for quite a long time to come. I should think that another spanking even as late as the end of next week would be quite painful for you, young lady."
And with this, she left the bedroom. No sooner had she done so than Connie hurried up from her chair and ran into the bathroom, coming out a moment later with a couple of wet towels which she had wrung out and which she at once placed over Janet's naked behind and legs. The moaning sigh of relief which the older girl gave made Hester gasp as she realized how poor Janet must be suffering. Then Connie proceeded carefully to untie the felt cords around her sister's ankles, leaving the girl's wrists till the last. Seating herself on the edge of the bed, she stroked Janet's head and murmured, "Gosh, honey, it must have hurt awfully, but I'll get you lots more cold towels. Shall I put some cold cream on it later?"
"Oh yes, would you please, Connie?" Janet groaned. "Oh, Lordy, I won't pile up that many demerits again, I can tell you that! I feel as if I sat down upon a hot stove-ooooh, it hurts so! And on my legs it was worst of all, it always is! Ohh, just let me lie here awhile, Connie, I'm so weak!"
Betty whispered into Hester's ear, "Come on, Hes, time to go home. And don't feel too sorry for Janet. I know her only too well. In a couple of days, she'll be bouncing around the tennis court as if nothing had happened. She's got a really tough heinie, even if this was a specially hard whipping. But she'd be the first to tell you that she deserved it and she's just as glad it's all over and done with so that she can start with a fresh slate. Let's go home, Hes."
And, her legs weak, her face scarlet with confusion, Hester Hadley left Janet Gilmore's bedroom without a word, while Connie and her thrashed older sister consoled each other in the way sisters have from time immemorial. And thus another significent milestone in Hester Hadley's life had been reached!
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was about ten days before the beginning of school, and Eleanor Hadley had finally hit upon a plan which would involve Hester in the subtle and complex web of parental chastisement in such a way that she needs must take compassionate sides. Once having done that, the beautiful brown-haired matron reasoned, precocious and diffident Hester would be so intimately acquainted with the practice that the final and transitional step of making her a victim instead of a mere onlooker or witness would be inevitable.
Eleanor had mentioned her idea to Arthur, who, arduously involved in setting up his own office and contacting potential new clients so that he could begin an even increased earning power for his new family, enthusiastically gave her the go-ahead approval: "I'm convinced by now, Ellie darling, that whatever you do will be right for Hester, just as what you've already done for Betty has turned out so beautifully. I want her to have to deal with you, appeal to you as her judge, and not look to me for protection. That's why I'm just as glad that I'm so busy practically night and day down at that new office of mine. After it's all over, I have a feeling that our domesticity is going to be closer than ever."
His beautiful, voluptuous brown-haired wife chuckled softly with agreement as she put her arms around him and pressed her pussy insinuatingly against his crotch, murmuring into his lips, "I've nothing to complain about thus far, Arthur honey. You just keep taking care of me the way you've been doing ever since our wedding night, and I've got a feeling this marriage is for keeps. Now you hurry off to your office before I forget that I'm a practically forty-year-old woman and the mother now of two very different and complicated daughters!"
No sooner had he left for the shopping center mall where his new office was located than Eleanor, profiting from the fact that her new stepdaughter Hester was still dawdling abed, tiptoed down the hall and knocked softly at Betty's door.
That charming golden haired nymph, most delectable in her yellow cotton pajamas, was just about to get up for breakfast, and answered the knock at the door with a tremulous, "Come in!"
Her mother entered and silently closed the door behind her. Betty's eyes widened, and she gulped nervously, swiftly searching her mind to remember what she had done lately that could sentence her to an unforeseen and unexpected dose of strap oil. But her mother's first words at once dispeled this guilty notion: "Don't be alarmed, darling, I just wanted to have a very private little talk with you, because you can help me, if you will, Betty dear."
Eleanor Hadley was extremely provocative in her green satin negligee under which she wore bra and panties, and her mules. Seating herself on the straight-backed chair near Betty's dresser, she beckoned to her golden-haired daughter, who with a little sigh of happiness hurried over to her, seated herself in Eleanor's lap and immediately linked her beautifully rounded satiny pink arms around her mother's neck and laid her cheek against Eleanor's. Betty loved these intimate moments of cuddling, even after a spanking; as a matter-of-fact, it was immediately after a spanking that this consolational ritual most gave her the feeling of being loved and of having security and forgiving her after she had been naughty.
"How's my darling big girl?" Eleanor whispered, stroking Betty's golden page boy with one hand and the girl's young resilient haunch with the other.
"Just fine, Mummy," Betty breathed, "it's as if you'd been away all this time until just now. I mean, we haven't been close like this for just about ages and ages!"
"I know, Pet," Eleanor soothed. "But don't you worry, once you and Hester go back to school, and all the excitement of getting Uncle Arthur introduced to the neighbors and starting his private work for himself and introducing Hester around to your friends is done with, we can go back to essentials. You've been a very good girl lately, darling, and I'm proud of you. Even Jennie is proud of you, and she's been listening to the way your stepsister has been trying to take the limelight and trying to always be the center of attention. And that's what I want to talk to you about, darling, because you can help me with her."
"I, Mummy? How can I help you?"
"What I'm going to ask, darling, may seem quite unfair, and in advance let me say that you certainly have delighted me with the way you've kept out of mischief. But within the next few days, darling, it's absolutely essential that I find some reason to spank you."
Betty gasped at this and colored deliciously and hung her head, as she began to think about this rather ominous pronunciamento. After a moment, she stammered, "I mean, if you think it will help, sure I'll deserve one, Mummy. But I don't exactly know what it's all about. Could you maybe tell me something about it?"
"Of course, darling. Look, you know perfectly well that you've taken Hester over to meet the Gilmore children and also Verna and Barbara Carruthers, and Nancy and Sally Jamison. Hester has not only heard about spanking but she's seen a pretty good one, if what you told me about the way Louise Gilmore punished Janet last week is any sign."
"I thought Hes was going to burst, she sat there staring and she was so pale," Betty confided.
"I know, pet. And I'm sure she thought that poor Janet's having to take a hundred and fifty spanks with Louise Gilmore's little rubber whip was absolutely the last word in torture back from the Middle Ages, didn't she?"
"She sure did, Mummy!" Betty giggled. Then, sobering instantly, she hesitantly repeated, "But why do you want me to get spanked, Mummy? How is it going to do anything about Hester?"
"I'm coming to that, darling. So far, as I've just said, Hester has met all your friends and she understands by now that all the parents spank, just as I do you. But she hasn't actually seen or heard about my punishing you. And now that you are her sister, finding out that you are punished is going to affect Hester's thinking about all this. I know she's tried rather hard to become one of the family, but she's still quite out of line. Even Jennie is a little upset at the arrogant way that Hester orders her around. It's so ingrained in Hester's nature to have her own way that she probably doesn't even realize it."
"You mean that if Hester sees or hears me getting spanked, she'll begin to find out that she's started to belong to a family where everybody who's naughty gets spanked?" Betty reasoned aloud.
"Exactly, darling! Mummy is very proud of her smart little girl," Eleanor hugged Betty and then kissed her on the cheek, while the lovely golden-haired girl's arms tightened affectionately around the mature brunette matron. "Now, school isn't very far away, but I want Hester to be taken out of that protective veneer of hers which makes her such a loner, such an anti-social person. That's why I really do wish you would give me an excuse to spank you, darling, as soon as possible."
"Let's see," Betty frowned, pondering. "I could let Hes hear me be disrespectful to you and-"
"Oh no, Betty! I wouldn't like that at all."
"I'm sorry, Mummy," Betty contritely and hastily countered. "Maybe I could drop a dish or something-"
"That's it!" Eleanor Hadley almost gleefully exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "Uncle Arthur is having his things sent in from Pomona, and they ought to be arriving any day now. Maybe even tomorrow. Yes, that's exactly the way to do it! If you and Hester happen to be unpacking and you just drop something, and then I come in and scold you and sentence you to a good spanking and take you upstairs and give it to you, after I leave, Hester will probably go upstairs to see you to find out what's happened. Then you can tell her all about it, and she can see for herself what you look like after I've punished you, darling. And if that doesn't set our precocious young miss to doing some very tall thinking, then my name's not Eleanor Hadley," the voluptuous, mature dominatress declared.
"Then I'll do it, Mummy," Betty eagerly declared. "Hes is missing so much by keeping herself away from all of us. I know Janet and Barbara would just love to get to know her better, but Hes considers them all kids, and of course you know how she feels about their being spanked. She thinks that all the parents are just monsters, I guess."
"Well, you don't think I'm that, do you, Angel? And by the way, Mummy is going to make it up to her precious in some very nice ways. Only, I'm afraid," Eleanor Hadley ruefully added, "it's got to be a very convincing spanking. It would be a good idea if Hester could hear it, hear the noise of it, and even hear you crying."
Betty squirmed uneasily over her mother's lap at this rather ominous news. Still, courageous and lovingly loyal to the core, the golden-haired teenager at last remarked, "Gosh, Mummy, I won't have to pretend much, 'cause whenever you do spank me, it really hurts!"
Both mother and daughter burst out laughing, and tenderly kissed each other. "I know exactly what I'll do," Eleanor Hadley said aloud as if talking out her thoughts, "I'll borrow Louise's leather sole. That will make quite a loud noise, but I'm afraid it will smart a good deal on that lovely bottom of yours, my darling."
"I-I won't mind, M-Mummy, not if it makes Hes get closer to us. Then we could all have such a wonderful time, couldn't we?"
"Of course we could. And it won't be long before I spank Miss Hester for the first time in her pampered young life, either, you may be very certain."
"I know she needs it, Mummy. Do-do you want her to watch me when you're-when you're doing it to me?"
"No, my precious. But I'll leave the door of your bedroom open so that she can't mistake the noises that she hears from downstairs. I'm sure that will be most impressive to her already impressed mind. Now then, precious, hurry up and get dressed and come down to breakfast. Jennie is going to fix some blueberry muffins and nice crisp bacon and a huge glass of orange juice for my little baby girl."
Betty sighed rapturously, hugged her mother again and the two shared a long and final kiss, after which Betty slipped off her mother's lap and scampered into the bathroom. Eleanor Hadley, her eyes glowing, watched the luscious young adolescent in her molding pajamas, and then turned and left the room with a smile of anticipation on her imperious mouth....
The movers had come late Tuesday afternoon, and Eleanor Hadley had instructed them to take the crates down to the comfortably spacious basement of her house. It would be much too late for the girls to begin unpacking, because Arthur would be home for supper and she wanted her little scheme to take place just between herself and Betty and Hester. So, that night, when she and Arthur were in bed together, she out-lined to him the ingenious ruse she and Betty had devised for the furtherance of Hester's "orientation." Hester's father was overwhelmed with admiration: "You mean to say, Ellie, that Betty went ahead and thought up the stunt that will give you a pretext to spank her? And that she's quite willing to sacrifice herself in Hester's behalf?"
"Of course, darling. Betty's a wonderful girl, as I think you know already. And of course I gave her a choice. I wouldn't have dreamed of spanking her unless the darling had agreed to it. That would really be unjust. And I promised to make it up to her."
"And I will too," Arthur Hadley stoutly averred as he moved closer to his voluptuous wife, his hand caressing one of her swelling round titties, his lips beginning to nuzzle at her throat and chin. The voluptuous brown-haired matron slipped her hand between his legs and found the swelling protuberance of his cock and began very gently with her thumb and forefinger to pinch the meatus through the fly of his pajama trousers. "You know, darling," she murmured in a husky voice, "Betty sort of hinted around-I know she was fishing, the little minx-as to whether you were completely satisfied with her as your new daughter."
"She did?" he excitedly asked.
"Mmmmmhmmmm," Eleanor Hadley purred, snuggling closer and continuing the gently repeated squeezes of his cockhead with her slim fingers. "And I can assure that it's not because she's afraid you'll want to start taking over parental spanking privileges either, darling.
She just hopes that you like her a lot and that you think of her as your own girl."
"You can tell her for me that I think she's tops," he enthusiastically replied. "As far as spanking her is concerned, I'll just admit to you privately right now, Ellie, that I won't ever do it until you tell me I may. But just between us, honey, she's got the most delicious bottom and she inherited from the girl I've got right here in my arms right now."
"Why, you naughty lecherous darling," Eleanor Hadley teased as she unbuttoned the fly to his pajama trousers and drew out his stiff throbbing prick. "That deserves a nice sweet reward. Now one more thing, lover-if you can arrange to eat out tomorrow night, it might be a good idea. That way you'll come back very late and after Betty has had her spanking and Hester has had time to get used to the idea that this is the way things go on in our little family."
"Sure. I hired myself a new secretary today, by the way, Ellie. It would be a good time for me to do some overtime work," he jokingly retorted.
She gave his cockhead a wicked little pinch that made him gasp. "Now you see here, Arthur Hadley, there'll be none of that. Not that I'm not an emancipated wife and will scold you too much if just once in a while you stray a little from the proper path. But when that hap pens, I want it to be with my knowing, you understand me? And I'd be much happier if it occurred within my own circle of friends."
"And what do you mean by that sly innuendo?"
"Well, for your information, lover, now that you're being gradually accepted as a member of the community, I happen to know that Frieda Jamison thinks you're quite a hunk of man," Eleanor Hadley whispered into his ear as she resumed her gentle pinching of his prickhead. "And so does Louise Gilmore, and that slinky red-haired Mabel Carruthers had already given me to understand that any time I want to kick you out of bed, she'll be happy to find a place for you in her guest room."
"Are you serious?" he gasped, as an entirely new world of carnal pleasure opened up before his dazzled eyes at this unexpected avowal.
"Uh-huh. Of course," she added thoughtfully, "I don't know how you would feel about my having a little fun with Fred Gilmore or Hank Jamison or Dave Carruthers."
"I'll have to think about that one," he admitted, his face blushing hotly at the suddenly naughty thoughts that had begun to invade his mind and the mental pictures of the three women she had just named had begun to flit through his fantasy. "But first things first. Right now you've started something you've got to finish."
"Yes, sir," she giggled with a show of meek surrender as she wriggled over onto her back, arched up her loins and whisked up her sheer nightie.
With a groan of delight, Arthur Hadley sank down between the inviting, cushioning thighs and belly of his beautiful complaisant bride, and he felt his stiff aching ramrod deliriously press between the tightening, moist and warmly welcoming walls of Eleanor's voracious cunt....
* * *
It was two o'clock on Wednesday afternoon. Just before lunch, Eleanor "Hadley had had a long telephone conversation with her best friend Louise Gilmore, and Hilde had come over at lunchtime to deliver a little tissue-wrapped box to Jennie, the Negro maid, who in turn had handed it to her mistress. Hester and Betty were having lunch at the kitchen table and Eleanor put the box to one side and then said, "Now I want both you girls to be very careful when you're unpacking this afternoon. Arthur tells me that he had the movers pack a very fine Wedgewood china set which he and his wife had so many years, and you are both to take special pains with it."
"Yes, Mother," Betty demurely replied, with a straight face and gave no sign that she had just received her cue from her voluptuous disciplinarian mother.
When the girls had gone down into the basement to begin the unpacking, Eleanor Hadley took the tissue-wrapped box and went slowly upstairs to her bedroom. Then she quickly dialed Louise Gilmore's number, and when the silver-blonde imperatrix answered, she at once replied, "I got it, Louise. Thanks much. I'll try to get it back to you by tomorrow morning. Will that be all right?"
"I think so, Eleanor. Janet has been a very good girl since that rather severe lesson she had last week. And of course Constance is her usual sweet obedient self. I must say, I think your Betty is a brave little girl. She's never had the leather sole, has she?"
"No," Eleanor Hadley admitted, "and I realize it's going to be something of a strain on her. But believe me, Louise, it's in a very worthy cause."
"You know, Eleanor, I have the strangest feeling that my girls are somewhat in sympathy with your little project," Louise Gilmore laughed. "Just at breakfast this morning, Janet was asking me if I thought that Hester's watching her get punished last week had finally given your new daughter the notion that there is nothing wrong about grown-up girls being spanked when they need it. And for Janet to make an admission like that-well!"
"You tell Janet I'm very grateful for her help. Now I'd better get back to my role of eavesdropper," Eleanor Hadley laughed.
"Good luck, and let me know how it all comes out," Louise Gilmore concluded and then hung up.
Down in the basement, Betty had decided to start on the crate containing the china set first of all, because she wanted to get the painful part of the "helping-out act" over with as soon as possible. Blithely, she pried open the top of the dish drum in which her step-father's Wedgewood set had been carefully packed. Then, plunging her hands down into it, she lifted up the first newspaper-wrapped object, which happened to be a soup tureen, removed the paper and set it down on the lower rectangular crate nearby.
"Do be careful, Betty," Hester urged, looking very worried. "Father thinks a lot of that set. He bought it as an anniversary gift for my mother, you know."
"Sure I'll be careful, Hes," Betty cheerfully promised. She picked up another newspaper-wrapped object, neatly unwrapped it and put down a beautiful sugar bowl beside the tureen.
Hester meanwhile had very ginerly dipped her hands into the drum and picked up a plate which she proceeded to unwrap with meticulous care. Betty jostled her as the irrepressible golden-haired teenager dipped down into the drum for another item. This was a superb dinner plate, and Betty juggled it, whistling a merry tune, while Hester's eyes widened: "For Heaven's sake, Betty, do be careful!"
"Think nothing of it. You never saw my juggling act, did you, Hes? I'll have to do it for you some time. Well, let's get on with it." With this, Betty bent down into the drum and picked up another plate. She hastily tore the newspapers from it, and then juggled it, and suddenly, glancing over her shouder, let it drop with a loud crash.
"Oh, Lord! Now you've done it! Father will be very put out with you, Betty!" her auburn-haired stepsister frantically exclaimed.
Eleanor Hadley had been standing on the threshold of her room, avidly listening. The basement door had been left open, and so she heard the crash distinctly.
"What was that, girls?" she called out.
"Gee!" Hester exclaimed nervously, "It's your mother."
"I know," Betty giggled. "She's got awfully sharp ears. Well, no use crying over spilled milk. Accidents happen in the best of families."
Eleanor Hadley had come down to the basement now. "What was that crash I just heard?" she accusingly demanded.
"It-it was one of the dinner plates and Betty dropped it," Hester unhesitatingly averred. Betty stared at her new stepsister with a frown of dismay; this was tantamount to snitching, and all at once she found herself almost sadistically wishing that Hester had been the one to drop the plate instead of herself. That was hardly family loyalty, to tattle like that!
"Is that true, Betty?" Eleanor Hadley sternly demanded.
"I guess it is, Mother. I was just showing Hester my juggling act," the lovely golden-haired teenager candidly explained.
"Well, young lady, I'm going to show you my famous juggling act too. Come upstairs with me this minute. As for you, Hester, please be very careful. I don't think I have to tell you that, since it belongs to your own father."
"I guess it was an accident, Mrs. Hadley," Hester stammered, and Eleanor's eyebrows arched with surprise at this formal appellation. She too didn't think very much of Hester for being first to point the accusing finger at Betty, even if of course she knew perfectly well that all this had been prearranged. It revealed certain definite flaws in Hester's character which convinced her all the more that the precocious daughter of Arthur Hadley was long overdue for a sound spanking on her insolent bottom.
"It may well have been an accident, Hester," she firmly replied, "but Betty absolutely disregarded my warning to both of you to unpack very carefully, and so now she's going to be punished for it. Come with me, young lady!"
"Yes, Mother," Betty meekly replied and followed Eleanor Hadley out of the basement and up the stairs.
Once inside her bedroom, Eleanor hugged her lovely young daughter, and whispered, "That was just perfect, baby! You're a wonderful brave girl, and I promised that I'm going to make this up to you, and I mean it. The way Hester hurried to let me know that you were the one who had broken that plate didn't set well with me at all. Now, I'm going to have to leave the door open so that Hester can hear."
"I know, Mother. Do you want me to prepare?"
"This time we'll skip the formalities, darling," Eleanor Hadley said with an encouraging little smile as she gave her penitent-looking golden-haired daughter an affectionate hug. "Just pull up your skirts and slip and get over my lap. I borrowed Louise Gilmore's leather sole because it makes a very loud noise." With this, she turned to the edge of her bed, opened the top of the box which Hilde had brought over, and exhibited the ominous-looking leather sole. Betty gulped nervously. She had had first-hand reports from Janet and Connie Gilmore on the efficacy of this spanking implement, and now that the moment had come for her act of heroism and self-sacrifice, she was just a little uneasy because it was new to her.
Eleanor Hadley went on with a quick whisper: "It would be a good idea, darling, if you would call out a little every so often while I'm spanking you, so that Hester will hear."
Betty nodded with a rueful expression: "Sure, I know, Mother." Then, stoically, she stooped and pulled up the hems of her skirt and slip, lofted them well above her lusciously rounded young hips, while Eleanor swiftly drew up the straight-backed chair towards the open door, seated herself and then beckoned for Betty to take the time-honored position across her lap.
Betty bowed down her head and shoulders, bravely retaining hold of her upthrust garments, while Eleanor swiftly snugged down the little white nylon panties to her daughter's thighs, exposing the magnificently ripe pink-sheened posterior. Then, circling the girl's waist with her left arm, she picked up the formidable leather sole, experimentally flourished it in the air, and then let it down with a loud Whack! over the top of Betty's naked, ripely curved right bottomglobe.
The sound was like a pistol shot, and Betty uttered a gasp of painful surprise, lifting her head, her eyes widening at the discovery that this was going to be a rather more taxing or deal than she had counted on. Eleanor Hadley, pausing a moment, discovered that it was also a highly effective punishment instrument, judging from the bright pink splotch which instantly sprang up on her daughter's naked flesh. "Get ready, darling," she murmured encouragingly, "I'll try not to take too long. And let me say this first, darling, Mummy is very proud of her big brave girl."
Hardly had she finished this laudatory speech when she brought down the sole across the top of Betty's bare left buttock with an angry "Clack!" And the teenager's bare hips jerked convulsively under the noisy, stinging impact which at once imprinted a vivid splotch to match the one on the other globe.
As Eleanor Hadley warmed to her task, Betty discovered that she didn't have to make-believe when it came to calling out. After about the fifth spank, which flattened against the ripest curve of her left bottomglobe, she began of her own pained reaction to call out, "Ooooh, Mother!" and "Aaaahh, Mother!" without the slightest prompting. The loud, almost indecent-sounding thwack of the thick, flexible leather sole against her upturned bare seat produced a furious stinging heat each time the instrument landed, wielded by Eleanor Hadley's energetic and skillful hand. It wasn't long before Betty's hips were swerving and wriggling, much more than when she lay passively on her own bed with her hands strapped ahead of her receiving the spanks of Eleanor's leather strap, and even her mother was surprised at the convulsive gyrations which her daughter's bare behind made under the descending arc of the instrument of castigation. She made a mental note to obtain a similar one for future use, because there was no gainsaying that it was highly effective. The bright flaming hue which it left and the very obvious uncomfortable heat which it generated were instantly manifested before her attentively watching eyes, and she found that she had to tighten her arm several times around Betty's supple waist and pull the squirming, uneasy, groaning girl back closer to her body to continue the spanking.
Fifty times the leather sole rose and fell, and when it fell for the last time across both buttocks just above the base, nipping the inner edges of the inflamed, quaking cheeks, Betty was very distinctly crying, her soft little fingers twisting frantically and pulling her skirt and slip this way and that but always above her condemned posterior. The dark, angry discoloration of the lushly rounded young bottomglobes stood out in furious contrast to the smooth baby-pink skin of Betty's back and thighs. It was really a far more severe spanking than Eleanor Hadley had intended, but at the same time she knew that Hester downstairs must certainly have heard all of it in eluding Betty's cries, which towards the last twenty blows of the spanking had been anxious and very satisfyingly loud.
"There, darling," she bent down to murmur placatingly to the sobbing girl, "Mummy hated to punish her brave girl this way. Now I want you to take your clothes off and lie on the bed, and I'll go down and tell Hester to come up and attend to you. That way, she's certain to see what's happened, and you can tell her all about it. In fact, it would be a good idea if you told her all about the binding strap and the spanking strap and the pillow that I generally use when you're a naughty girl."
Betty slowly and painfully lifted herself off her mother's lap, letting her clothes drop, her panties falling down to her ankles, and then she hugged her mother in an access of tearful affection. For a long and tender moment they stood thus embracing, while Eleanor kissed away Betty's tears. Then the dominatress murmured, "All right, darling, I'll leave you now. You go back to your own room where you keep the spanking things, of course. That's where I want Hester to find you. And don't forget, Mummy is very grateful for your help, and she's going to remember it with a specially wonderful treat one of these days soon."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Betty had hastened to her room while her mother swiftly replaced the borrowed leather sole in its box and put it on the top shelf of her closet, then went out of her room and down the stairs. As she reached the first-floor landing, she called down to the basement, "Hester, go upstairs and look after your sister, if you please. I have to go out for a little while."
Meanwhile, golden-haired Betty, her eyes suspiciously red and swollen from tears which were in no way feigned, and gingerly holding her discarded panties, had gone back to her room and, leaving the door open, swiftly removed dress and slip and, discarding these together with her panties on a chair near the bed, promptly stretched herself out on her tummy, naked except for bra and sandals. The fiery bunting of the leather sole had darkened now, and her delightfully plump round young bottomcheeks were quite impressively inflamed. The smarting sting of the sole was, Betty decided, something she would just as soon dispense with in future, and she fervently hoped that her mother had only borrowed the implement from Louise Gilmore just this one time.
Hester, trembling and very pale, ascended the stairs and made her way down the hall. She saw Betty's open door and then she uttered a loud gasp: "Ohh!"
"Hi, Hes," Betty greeted her, without turning her head. "I sure can use your help right about now, I'll tell you that. Would you mind awfully soaking some cloths in cold water and putting them on my heinie?"
"Of-of course not, Betty," Hester stammered. Her eyes fixed on those discolored, swollen rotundities and it looked to her as if her stepsister had taken a far more serious thrashing than even brunette Janet last week. A novice to castigation as she was, Hester Hadley could not distinguish the fact that the broader surface of a leather sole when wielded energetically as Eleanor had done covered considerably more area than a thin little rubber dog whip, and that its broader impact left the tender skin and flesh exacerbated for a considerably longer period at the outset. In a few days, Betty's lovely bottom would, however, be once again as pink, as the proverbial baby's skin, except perhaps for one or two tiny bluish splotches where the very oval end of the sole had wrought particularly emphatic castigatory vigor.
"Hurry, please, Hes," Betty plaintively entreated, squirming uneasily on her tummy and glancing back at her older stepsister. "I'm just about burned up."
Hester gulped and headed for the bathroom, where with trembling fingers she dampened several washcloths under the cold-water tap, wrung them out and then came back into the bedroom and laid them over the golden-haired teenager's flaming bottom.
"Ooooh!" Betty sighed, "That's more like it! Golly, that was a real good one, that was!"
"I-I know, Betty," Hester stammered, her cheeks red with embarrassment, "I heard it. I felt so awfully sorry-but you ought to have been more careful with Father's china."
"Sure, I know. I guess once in a while I feel like horsing around. Well, my heinie sure paid for it, that's for certain. Put some more cloths on, Hes, that feels so good," Betty declared.
Hester readily complied, feeling a kind of guiltiness now come over her at having not tried to placate her stepmother when the latter had so sternly admonished the golden-haired girl for clumsiness. "Just the same," she said hesitantly as she put another cold cloth on her stepsister's quivering, discolored posterior, "It was really cruel of her to whip you so terribly! It looks so sore, so swollen!"
"I'll be all right in a little while, Hes. When this dries, you can rub some cold cream. It's in that pink jar on the bottom shelf of my medicine cabinet. Would you mind awfully?"
"No, of course not. You poor dear! I don't care even if you did break a dish, that wasn't any reason to beat you like that," Hester began to feel strangely confused, not knowing exactly on what side her loyalty was. Since she had always respected and admired her father, the thought that her stepsister had carelessly broken one of their finest plates had at first made her righteously believe that Betty had punishment coming. But now, seeing that flaming behind and watching her almost-naked stepsister squirm uneasily on the bed, the auburn-haired, precocious girl found her compassion deeply aroused. Even more than that, subconsciously, the sensual overtones of this intimate conversation and the sight of her younger stepsister's luscious near-nudity had begun to work with telling effect on Hester's hitherto aloof psyche.
"She didn't beat me cruelly, and I wish you'd stop saying things like that, Hes!" Betty looked 'round at the bespectacled auburn-haired girl.
"I had it coming, that's what. And it was over real quick, and it's all forgotten now. Whenever Mummy, spanks me, we always make up and then it's forgiven. And I try hard not to make her mad because she really doesn't like to punish me. No parent really does, Hes."
"How can you say that, Betty, when even at Malibu my father told me how she punished you for playing around with those fellows," Hester broke out.
"Open that top drawer in my dresser, and bring out the stuff you find in there."
"All right." Wonderingly, Hester walked over to the dresser, opened the drawer and saw the buckling strap used for Betty's wrists and the ominous, polished spanking strap. "Are these what you mean?" she stammeringly asked as she lifted them out.
"Sure. Bring them over here."
When Hester had complied, Betty explained, "You really mustn't feel too bad about it, Hes. It could have been lots worse. See, when Mummy tells me to go up to my room and prepare, I come up like this and take off everything except my bra and sandals. Sometimes I don't even wear my sandals. And I put out the strap to tie my wrists with alongside me and the spanking strap too. Then Mummy fixes my wrists real tight, sometimes behind my back but usually over my head so that I won't try to cover up my bottom when I'm getting it. Then she uses the spanking strap on my heinie. She usually puts a pillow under my tummy so my rear end will be a good target-boy, she doesn't miss anyway, no matter what position it's in," she giggled reminiscently, and Hester's blush deepened even more at this casual reference to punishment which had become so quiveringly and disturbingly emotional for her. "Then, after I've had my spanking, Mummy lets me wait a while before she loosens the strap so I can get at my bottom and rub it. I think that's almost as much punishment as the spanking itself, sometimes. And of course I have to hand her the spanking strap even after my wrists are tied. But then when it's over, I sit in her lap and we cuddle, and she explains why she had to punish me and I see why, and then we feel awfully close. Now I think I'm about ready for that cold cream, Hes."
Hester Hadley stared at the buckling strap and the punishment weapon, and shook her head. It was beyond her how this lovely, serene, happy-go-lucky girl could accept punishment so stoically and dismiss it so casually. And as she began to rub in the cold cream into those jouncy, resilient half-moons, she dimly sensed that another subtle bond in the chain of family intimacy was being forged for her....
Louise Gilmore had taken Janet and Constance into her confidence and related to them Betty's heroic self-sacrifice for the worthy cause of pulling Hester Hadley down from the untouchable and elegant pedestal on which she had placed herself from her very first day in Claremont. Janet's admiration for Connie's dear friend and her own knew no bounds. And that evening, after supper, she determined to prove that she was of the same mettle, realizing that even at eighteen she had for quite some time now rebelled against her parents' decision to keep punishing her even though she thought herself far too grown-up for any such juvenile and humiliating correction.
Accordingly, when her father was sitting in the armchair reading his newspaper, she went over to the radio and turned it up. He put down the paper and frowned and said, "Turn it down, please, Janet, you know I don't like rock-and-roll music."
"But I do, Daddy," she flippantly observed as she slyly turned the knob up another quarter of an inch till the electric guitars of the recording blared furiously through the spacious Gilmore living room.
Fred Gilmore flung down his paper, an exasperated look on his face. Then he walked over to his brunette daughter, took her by the earlobe and led her back to the armchair, flung her down across his lap, pulled up her skirt and slip, rucked down her brief panties to her ankles, and, tucking her in with his left arm, proceeded to deliver a handspanking which, to describe Janet's own words for it the next day when she met with Betty, "was really piping hot!" Janet ground her teeth and closed her eyes and bravely endured some forty really stinging whacks from her father's energetic hand, and when at last he righted her, tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"Pull up your panties and go up to your room now, Janet," he sternly instructed.
"Why-yes, D-Daddy. I-I'm sorry I made you mad," Janet sobbed as she hastened to obey, not without many a grimace at the way her bottom flamed and ached when she gingerly stooped down to retrieve the crumpled, twisted garment clinging around her ankles.
But that very same evening Barbara Carruthers was unfortunate enough to have a falling out with both her mother and father, and all about her handsome suitor Tom Jeffrey, whom she had been forbidden to see. Dave and Mabel Carruthers had teken the family car that afternoon and gone off to visit Dave's second cousin in Whittier, and so Barbara had believed they wouldn't get back until late at night. She had gone down to the Claremont Sweet Shoppe in the mall for a soda, knowing that she would meet her suitor Tom Jeffrey, the carroty-haired, freckle-faced varsity tackle for whom she had experienced her first passionate crush.
They had a double chocolate soda together in the corner of a dark booth, and Tom's sly fingers stroked her thigh above her skirt until, emboldened by her humid, ardent gaze, he dared to run his hand under her short skirt and tickle her soft furry pussy through the thin white nylon panties. Barbara moaned and squirmed, and actually had orgasm from that finger-friction, after which Tom nervously proposed that they take a ride in his jalopy. They went out to the forest preserve, and there in a shady glen, getting into the back seat, Barbara surrendered herself to exciting soul kissing in which both youngsters explored the amorous delights of twisting their tongues into the other's mouth and fondling wildly in their new discovery of each other. Tom led one of Barbara's trembling little hands towards his crotch and, zipping down his fly, let her take out his prick and play with it till suddenly he uttered a groan and spurted into her hand. Meanwhile, his other hand was busy foraging at the brunette's slip until once again she had a violent creaming. They promised to see each other on the sly when school began again, and Barbara sealed her troth with another passionate French-kiss.
After this ardent interlude, Tom Jeffrey drove her back to within two blocks of the Carruthers' house and let her out. It was her dismay to see her father's Buick parked in the driveway. When she entered, Mabel and Dave Carruthers were in the living room, having just come in a few minutes earlier.
"Where have you been, young lady?" her svelte, attractive auburn-haired mother irritatedly demanded. "We were looking around for you because Verna is over at a friend's house and your father and I wanted you to go to the store to get some things for dinner."
Barbara had the bad fortune to blush hotly at this pointed question of her whereabouts, which further called her parents' attention to her. Her skirt was rumpled, as was her hair, and her cheeks were a most becoming red from the happy if forbidden adventure she had just experienced with her virile, forbidden young lover.
"I-I was out with Connie Gilmore," she lied glibly, seizing the first thing that came into her mind, an understandable decision in view of her parents' irritability threshold when the topic of dicsussion concerned a steady boyfriend. For this was one of the real taboos in the Carruthers household.
"I see," Mabel Carruthers tartly responded. "That's funny. Just before we got into town, your father and I stopped at a service station and I telephoned Louise Gilmore to ask her if she could come over to dinner, and there was only Hilda at home and she said that the girls and Tony were out with their mother in the shopping center buying clothes for school."
Barbara's jaw dropped, which was a telltale admission of her falsehood. "So you lied to me, did you, Barbara? Now I want the truth," Mabel Carruthers snapped. "Where were you and with whom?"
Caught in her own trap, Barbara broke down and confessed, tears running down her cheelJs, that she had just gone into town for a soda and just happened to meet Tom Jeffrey. She didn't have to go any further. Mabel Carruthers turned to her husband: "Dave, I think this calls for a little discipline on your part as well as mine." Then, turning back to the unhappy, creamy-skinned brunette, she directed: "Go upstairs to your room and take off everything except your bra and panties, Barbara. Your father and I will be up presently. And when we finish, we're going out to dinner and pick up Verna, but you can just stay home and fend for yourself out of the refrigerator to teach you not to lie and also not to do something that I've strictly forbidden you to do, you understand me?"
"Yes, M-Mother," Barbara snuffled as she resignedly trudged upstairs.
A few minutes later, she lay stretched on her bed, hiding her face in her hands, clad in only her pink bra and matching panties, her creamy legs bare. Her broadly oval, tightly spaced buttocks were tensing in nervous anticipation of what was to follow. Dave Carruthers had un buckled his belt and doubled it in his hand, as he waited for his wife to begin their naughty daughter's punishment. Barbara was ordered to slip her panties down to her kneehollows, and then lie with her hands under her so that she wouldn't be tempted to cover up her plump ivory naked seat. This done, her mother lost no time in pressing her left palm firmly down in the small of her daughter's back, and then administering a sound and noisy handspanking of about fifty stinging slaps which soon had Barbara kicking and squealing and sobbing promises never to disobey again.
When the spanking was over, Mabel Carruthers took a pillow from the girl's bed and pursed it under her daughter's stomach, then remarked, "Your fathers' going to give you twenty-five swats with his belt. Barbara. And tomorrow morning, as soon as you get up, you're to come in your pajamas to my room and get an extra little dose for lying. It's something I just won't tolerate, young lady. Now, are you ready?"
Barbara blubberingly and reluctantly assented, and while her mother knelt down on the side of the bed and pressed both hands against the girl's shoulders to keep her in position, Dave Carruthers took over with his belt. Twenty-five smacking times, the black leather belt rose in the air and then swept down to flatten vigorously against the upturned, crimsoned bottom ovals. Barbara's screams and pleas for mercy began almost at once, but they availed her nothing. When it was over, she lay frantically rubbing her bottom as she wriggled from side to side to ease the furiously burning heat which this dual punishment had implanted to her naked seat. And the next morning, tearfully, head bowed and squirming nervously as she stood before her mother's bed in her pretty blue satin pajamas, the young brunette heard herself ordered to take off her pajama pants completely and then hand her mother the hairbrush, after which she had to stretch out across her mother's lap over the bed and endure a brisk but extremely painful chastisement of forty hard spanks equally distributed over the still discolored oval cheeks of her well developed behind....
It was Saturday afternoon, and the weather was unseasonably warm. Betty and Hester Hadley were out in the garden, doing some weeding at Eleanor's tacit suggestion. Hester had discovered the garden hose, and mischievously decided to play a prank on her younger sister. Slyly she went over to the tap and turned it on full force, then adjusted the nozzle and pointed the hose squarely at Betty. Her aim was bad, and the forceful spray went off towards the left and against Eleanor's clothesline on which some of her summer dresses were airing. Betty squealed, "Look what you've done.
Hes! What's got into you?"
But Hester Hadley, in a newly found spirit of wanting to belong, and reverting to the principle of extremism in her still immature outlook on life in general, was not to be daunted by this warning. Instead, seeing the Gilmore's big shaggy springer spaniel trotting down the street minding its own business, she whirled and directed the hose at the dog, with unerring aim this time.
"What in the world? Who's playing games with poor old Prince?" Eleanor Hadley's richly contralto voice vibrated from an upstairs window.
With a guilty gulp, Hester hastily shoved the hose into Betty's hands, and beat a hasty retreat towards the back of the garden just as Eleanor emerged.
"Oh it's you, Betty," she said angrily as she espied her golden-haired daughter in the process of turning off the spray by twisting the nozzle and looking very flurried. "Well, young lady, you can just march right upstairs and get yourself ready. The very idea, a big girl like you!"
But at this moment, Fate intervened in the person of the jovial Negro maid Jennie. " 'Scuse me, Ma'am," she called from the door of the kitchen, "But it wasn't Betty's fault at all. I saw the whole thing, Mrs. Hadley, and it was that Hester who hosed that poor dog."
Eleanor stared hard at her golden-haired daughter who lowered her eyes. Then the dominatress smiled tenderly. "You brave little darling!" she murmured. "So you were all ready to stay there and keep your mouth shut and take a spanking that wasn't coming to you, were you? Well, darling, at last the time has come for your new sister to learn her proper place in this little family." And then, raising her voice sternly, she called out: "Hester Hadley, come here this moment!"
Hester disconcertedly disengaged herself from the shelter of a flowering laurel bush and came hesitantly towards her stepmother.
"So it was you who turned the hose on Prince," Eleanor Hadley exclaimed. Then, suddenly catching sight of her own laundry flapping on the line and observing how wet it was, "And soaked my wash, too! And when I came out blaming Betty for it, you didn't have the gumption to admit it, did you?"
"I-er-I was going to," Hester finished lamely.
"I'll bet you were," Eleanor sarcastically interposed. "All right, young lady. I have been very patient with you all these weeks, but I can't let this little game of yours go by any longer. It's not fair to Betty, and it's certainly not fair to you either. Now then, Hester Hadley, you are going to march upstairs to your room, and prepare yourself. And by that I mean, you're going-to take off everything except your bra and panties and stretch out on the bed, do you understand me?"
"But, Mrs.- Mrs.- Mrs. Hadley-" Hester stammered, growing very red in the face.
"And that's another thing," Eleanor Hadley sternly continued. "It's high time you accepted me as your father's wife, and gave me at least the respectful title of 'Mother.' Imagine, calling me Mrs. Hadley! Yes, Hester, even though you're going to start college in another week, you're still extremely immature, even more so than my own sixteen-year-old youngster. Now march up the stairs and get yourself ready. You are going to get your first good sound spanking."
"Oh-please-Mrs. H-I mean M-Motherplease wait until F-Father gets home-Can't we talk this out?" Hester gasped, tears welling into her dilated eyes behind the harlequin glasses.
"You're going to obey me, Hester, that's what you're going to do. Your father and I have already discussed this, for your information, and he's given me full authority to proceed in the way I think best. Betty gets spanked whenever she's naughty, and from this day on you are going to fall into the same regimen. There will be no exception, young lady. If anything, and if you refuse to obey me now, I intend to tell your father when he comes home tonight and insist that after I've punished you as you deserve, he add to your chastisement for your mutinous behavior. Do you want that?"
Hester Hadley wrung her hands, biting her lips, her cheeks purple with embarrassment. "N-no," she quavered in a very small little-girl voice.
"Very well then. Upstairs with you, young lady. And I may say that proper discipline is going to help you overcome a lot of your handicaps, Hester, quite apart from getting along with people. Like that case of acne you've got, for instance. It's mostly nerves and irritability. Well, you'll be surprised to find out what a salutary thing a good spanking can be. Now go upstairs and prepare. I'll be up to see you in about fifteen minutes. And I want to find you ready just as I've instructed."
Her hands on her hips, the brown-haired dominatress stared inflexibly at the shrinking, consternated, precocious and pampered auburn-haired girl. Betty watched intently, inwardly excited at this final turn of the tables which would impose her mother's stern justice on someone else besides herself after all these years. She was dying to know just how Hester was going to take it all, what Hester would do when she had to submit to having her panties pulled down and her bare heinie exposed for the spanking. How brave she would be when the first spanks fell, and how her mother would actually spank the girl. Would it be with the strap or the hairbrush or the martinet, Betty wondered. But of course she knew better than to ask such questions, or even to be allowed to witness the red-letter event-for such it was in the Hadley household!
Dolefully, her shoulders shaking, her face covered with her hands, Hester moved towards the house, while Jennie triumphantly looked on from the kitchen door and nodded emphatically to her mistress, as if to assure the latter of her own hearty endorsement of this decree....
CHAPTER NINE
Hester Hadley slowly went up the stairs, her head drooping, tears welling to her eyes. They were tears of self-pity as well as shame, for she had been found out at last. A kind of impish impulse had motivated her to wield the garden hose and then a still more perverse one, to throw the blame on golden-haired Betty and to see Betty spanked. Hester had no way of knowing it, because she had never questioned her own subconscious reactions; but the spectacle of Janet's whipping last week and then the sight of her own stepsister's leather-sole-inflamed behind which with her own fingers she had massaged with soothing cold cream, had instilled within her a kind of sensual eagerness to witness more of the same and with herself as an impartial, immune audience. But the maid's unexpected denunciation of her had now cost her all of her pride and vanity, and as she ascended the stairs to her room, her legs trembled beneath her at the thought of what was going to happen. If only her stepmother had let her wait until Father came home so that she could present her case. But she hadn't. And the threat of being reported to her father just like a naughty little girl for additional correction was absolutely unthinkable.
Her head was buzzing, her temples throbbing and her heart pounding loudly as she entered her room. She stood for a moment-in a fit of indecision before her mirror, staring at herself and seeing her oval face with the slantingly set cheekbones, the thick brows over her widely spaced blue eyes, the small petulant ripe mouth with its fuller upper lip, the rather dowdy and old-fashioned thick bun of auburn hair at the back of her head. She saw, too, the irritating red spots of acne on her chin and cheeks, and she grimaced with distaste. Now, not only would these physical flaws be observed by her step-to a stranger's eyes ... and worse than that, to a going to have to expose her most intimate person mother but for the first time in her life she was stranger's punishment.
Feeling sorrier for herself by the moment, Hester at last drew off her dress and then her slip. Again she stared at herself in the mirror, seeing the voluptuous jut of her widely pear-shapted breasts with their dark cores pressing against the almost diaphanous white nylon bra, and the exceptionally thick, indeed, somewhat embarrassingly full triangle of dark auburn pussyhair at the crotch of her panties, the apex of her long elegantly contoured thighs. There was also the outline of her garterbelt, for she was wearing flesh-colored nylons and her sandals. With a groan, she put her hands behind her, tentatively appraising her buttocks which until this moment had never known the ignominy of chastisement. Full, firm and resilient, broad fleshy ovals with a gradually broadening crease between them. Then consternation seized her as she recalled how Betty had told her how Eleanor Hadley had always spanked on the bare. Oh no! She was eighteen, she was going to start college next week, it was unthinkable that she would be so humiliated and so shamed!
She was still standing beside her bed when the door opened and Eleanor Hadley stood there, her face gravely composed.
"Why aren't you on the bed as I ordered, Hester?" she calmly remarked as Hester turned scarlet with shame, feeling her own scantily clad vulnerability before this severe dominatress. Then her eyes fell on Eleanor's hands and she uttered a cry of stupefaction. For the brown-haired matron was holding the buckling strap and the spanking strap which were used on Betty!
"Oh no, please don't!" Hseter babbled, clasping her long slim fingers and twisting them frantically as her courage quite gave way. "Don't punish me that way, M-Mother! I'm too old, I'm going to college next week, I didn't mean to-"
"I see," Eleanor Hadley interrupted her incisively as if she hadn't even spoken. "Not only are you unscrupulous but you are also a coward, afraid to stand up and take your own medicine for something you did. You know very well that you were perfectly ready to let me think it was Betty who had used that hose and to punish her, and you wouldn't have lifted a finger-"
"I didn't mean-" Hester tried to plead her case.
But Eleanor Hadley would have none of it. "Don't try to talk yourself out of it, Hester Hadley!" she snapped. "You think you are an adult just because you are going to college and you are eighteen. Well, let me tell you, yuong lady, you're nothing but a loner, and if you continue in the way you have been behaving here at Claremont, then you will find yourself without any friends at all and thoroughly hated and despised for what you are. Now go lie down on your stomach on that bed at once. Do you want me to tell your father that you're a little coward as well as a liar?"
At this, Hester burst into tears, and, bowing her head, slowly moved toward the bed. With a woebegone expression she clambered onto it and lay with her arms at her sides, softly sobbing. Eleanor Hadley moved briskly to assume her role of executioner. She placed the two straps at the head of the bed, lifted up one of Hester's pillows, and curtly ordered, "Lift up your hips, young lady, so I can slip this pillow under you!"
"Oh please, Mother, please let me off just this once, I'll try to be better, I promise you I will!" Hester sobbed, turning her scarlet tearstained face towards her stepmother.
"I've given you an order, Hester. If you don't want me to give you extra spanks, you had better obey it and be quiet."
With a groan, Hester arched herself up, and the pillow was placed under her stomach. When she fell back, her shoulders shaking with her stifled sobs, she felt the outrageously indecent projection of her scantily clad buttocks.
"Now, hold your arms out in front of you, the wrists together," was the next order.
"Oh please don't tie me, M-Mother!" Hester wailed. "I promise I won't resist, but don't do it to me, I beg you! Please, I-I've never been punished before-please be kind to me!"
"Everyone wants to be kind to you, Hester, if you'll only learn the lesson that you have to give as well as receive," was Eleanor Hadley's answer. "Now don't make me repeat this order. Your wrists!"
Tears running down her cheeks, her lips trembling pitiably, the auburn-haired daughter of Arthur Hadley extended her arms beyond her head, the wrists together. Deftly, her stepmother wrapped the strong leather thong around them and then buckled it up tightly so that Hester's wrists were held as in a vise.
The condemned young beauty turned her tearstained face towards her stepmother to watch with growing anxiety what would happen next. And when she saw Eleanor reach out towards the waistband of her panties, Hester uttered a piercing cry: "Oh no, not that! Oh please, Mother, let me keep them on! They aren't much protection, honestly they aren't! Not on the bare skin, I'll die of shame, Mother!'
"Do you know, Hester, even at the age of eleven, my little girl Betty took a good sound thrashing worse than you're taking this before I've even touched you," was Eleanor's sarcastic retort. "I've given you another order, Hester, and I expect to be obeyed. You have your choice; either you submit of your own free will, or I'll have Betty come in and hold you down While I pull down your panties and whip your bare naughty bottom, and then I'll tell your father that in my opinion he should take over the job of giving you the discipline he spared you all these years. And in his present frame of mind, Hester, I might as well tell you that you need not expect any mercy from him. Now, for the last time, arch yourself up a little so that I can take your panties down for your spanking!"
Again Hester burst into hysterical tears, bowing her head and abandoning herself as she slowly arched herself up. At once Eleanor's fingers moved under the waistband of the thin nylon sheath, and husked it down to the tops of Hester's thighs. Then briskly she unfastened the tabs of the garterbelt and, on second thought, unfastened the garterbelt itself and removed it so that there would not be even this scant protection from the spanking strap.
Her eyes devoured that magnificent virgin bottom, virgin indeed to the stigmata of corporal punishment. The plump, yet perfectly proportioned oval globes twitched and contorted as Hester contracted her muscles in a desperate attempt to diminish their prominence. The smooth soft tawny skin was prickled with a thousand little fluxions like gooseflesh, and because of the pillow beneath her loins, the magnificent bare bottom was thrust up in the most lasciviously inviting way! In a word, for the first time in her eighteen years of arrogant and self-centered life, Hester Hadley was ready to be whipped.
It was a terrible and all too real nightmare for Hester Hadley, whose anguished, tear-blurred eyes now followed Eleanor's every movement. She clenched her thighs together as she sought to make herself unattainably small; but when she saw Eleanor reach for the spanking strap, she uttered a cry: "Oh, no, don't beat me, M-M-Mother! Oh please, I can't stand pain, truly I can't! Please let me off, use your hand, I'm dying of shame as it is, Mother! Please don't hurt me with that awful strap!"
"No, Hester," was the calm, inexorable decree, "your naughtiness this afternoon cannot be so lightly let off with a handspanking. However in view of the fact that this is your first whipping, I am going to be relatively lenient. I shall let you off with fifty good smacks on your naked bottom. Get yourself ready now, for I am going to begin."
These words rang like the knell of doom to Hester's anguished brain. Desperately she tugged at her wrist strap, and tried to turn herself on one side, thereby exposing the thick triangle of cunthair over her plump virgin mount.
"What a coward you are," Eleanor Hadley contemptuously mocked. "If you don't stay in position over that pillow, young lady, I'm going to call Jennie as well as Betty to hold you down. Would you like that?"
"Ohh no, oh no, please!" that was a cry from Hester's very soul.
"Very well then, but the first moment that you try to roll away and lose position over that pillow and don't take the full count of spanks, that is exactly what I shall do," the brown-haired imperatrix warningly declared.
Hester at once plunged her face down against the single pillow left her at the end of the bed, closed her eyes and lay shudderingly like a royalist awaiting the blade of the guillotine to descend. Eleanor Hadley put her left palm on the small of that lovely, beautifully sculptured tawny-sheened back and slowly raised the spanking strap over the twitching globes. "Are you ready, Hester?" she demanded.
And now the magic of corporal punishment evinced itself; this proud, arrogant, aloof girl who had spoken out so vehemently against the "barbarism" of Betty's friend's parents now humbly and meekly whimpered, "Y-yes, Mother, but oh please don't-don't sp-sp-spank too hard!"
Eleanor Hadley smiled triumphantly to herself as she watched the half-naked young girl tense all her muscles in an instinctive defense. It would be a while before Hester would learn that the stoic way of relaxing one's muscles and accepting punishment was by far less taxing to a tender naked girlish bottom. But for the first lesson, there was much to be imparted. And so, without warning, Eleanor raised her right hand and brought the strap down with a wicked CRACK over the tops of Hester's naked hips. A shrill cry of "Ohhhh!" rose at once, as the startled girl twisted her face round to stare at her stepmother. The strap had left a bright pink swath in its wake over the huddling oval globes. And even as Eleanor raised her hand for a second stroke, Hester began to whimper and to cry: "Oh no-oh please, Mother-not so hard-it hurts so-oh please I'll be good, I promise I'll be good!"
Yes, indeed the magic of the whip had entered this room and permeated the psyche of this rebellious "loner"! Hester did not know it, but in her infantile words of protest and pleading, she was echoing the age-old plaints of every girl who has ever been whipped since the dawn of time.
SMACK, the strap bit down wickedly, about an inch below the first mark, bridging both globes. Under it Hester wriggled and then kicked her stockinged legs as she uttered another wild cry of pain and shame: "Eeyeoww! Oh, Mother, please, it hurts terribly, I'll never do it again, Mother!"
By the time Eleanor Hadley had reached the tenth spank which cut with a sonorous impact across the lower summit of her stepdaughter's squirming reddening behind, Hester was dissolved in tears. She continued to jerk at her strapped wrists, and made the evasive maneuver of trying to twist over to one side to protect her bottom from the uplifted instrument of castigation.
But Eleanor's left palm pinned her down like a worm to the bed, and Eleanor's calm and mockingly contemptuous voice served to remind the sufferer that she had hardly earned mercy or leniency in the cowardly way she was enduring the first punishment: "Will you hold still, young lady? Do you want me to call Jennie?" SMACK! "I have never seen in all my life a big grown-up girl like you behaving like such a baby, and that's a fact." CRACK "Try that again, Hester, and I will call Jennie and Betty too, you've been warned!" SMACK! CRACK! "You can cry all you like, just keep in position, young lady, remember that!" WHACK!
By the twenty-fifth spank, Hester's tawny-skinned bare bottom was blazing with horizontal stripes from top to base, not an inch of untouched skin remaining, so dexterously and skillfully had Eleanor Hadley's hand wielded the punishment instrument. Her legs crossed and uncrossed, rubbing together frantically; then one would kick up and lower and then the other the same, while she twisted and turned like an eel over the pillow. But Eleanor continued to maintain her as she would a little child who was rebelling against authority, and the admixture of that sternly pressing palm and Eleanor's scathingly taunting words proved to be the very method by which Hester was subjugated to endure what had long been overdue.
"There," her stepmother commented after the twenty-fifth smack had bitten home against the tender curves of both jouncy bottomsummits, "that's twenty-five. Now you may have two minutes to rest before I give you the second part of your punishment, Hester."
"Ohh-M-M-Mother-oh how my poor bb-bottom hurts-oh please, I'll be so good, oh do let me off, so good, I swear I will, Mother, please don't spank me any more with that horrible strap! My bb-bottom's raw, Mother, truly it is! Please have mercy oh me, please!"
"No Hester, I have never yet let Betty talk me out of decreasing her quota of punishment by so much as one spank, so you can hardly imagine that you will be successful in that attempt. But I will do this for you, if you promise to take the rest of your spanking more bravely and less noisily than you did the first time. I won't tell your father when he comes home tonight that you've been spanked."
"Ohhh!" Hester groaned. In her anguish and shame and now pain, she had quite forgotten the posibility of having this monstrous and degrading experience revealed to her own father. "Oh no, you mustn't tell him, M-M Mother! I would just die, I couldn't stand it!"
"Very well then, young lady. Just don't resist so much and stop trying to roll away. Now, your two minutes are up. Are you ready for the rest of your spanking?"
And once again the magic of the whip had thoroughly conquered this unruly selfish and self-centered young woman. Bowing her head, her shoulders shaking with sobs, squirming uneasily to find a less onerous place in which to endure her castigation, Hester murmured a faint "Y-yes, Mother."
She tried valiantly to suppress her cries and frantic squirmings and thrashings as the strap began to fall again. Eleanor Hadley noticed this and credited her for it, whether she knew it or not. Nonetheless, the beautiful disciplinarian did not leave off sermonizing her stepdaughter as she brought the strap down, this time all in vertical swipes that lodged their entire burning kiss over one bottomcheek rather than both; and often with her left hand she would grasp the edge of Hester's squirming hips and pull the girl back into position over the pillow, warning her briefly that another flagrant attempt to escape would mean a call for Jennie and Betty.
Hester's bottom was furiously discolored, and it was obvious to her stepmother that the girl's skin was quite sensitive, perhaps even more than Betty's. By the time the fiftieth lash fell over the swollen posterior, drawing a final shriek and then a series of hysterical sobs from the weeping girl, the crisscrossing pattern of welts blazed in both bright and somber hue, the earlier spanks receding and paling, and letting the fresher blows stand out in superimposed crimson fury over the jutting naked bottom.
"There!" Eleanor Hadley panted as she lowered the strap for the last time. "I'm going to send Betty up to you in a few minutes while you rest here. And I'll keep my promise I shan't tell your father. Betty will come up in about twenty minutes to untie your wrists and and to put cold water and cold ream on your bottom."
"Ohhh-ohhh-oh it hurts-oh M-Mother, I won't ever do it again-I'm so ashamed," Hester wept.
Eleanor Hadley walked over the head of the bed, bent down and putting her right hand under the girl's trembling chin, lifted up Hester's contorted, tearbathed face. "One of these days, my dear," she said tenderly, "you'll be a very good girl. I can see changes already for the better, now give me the kiss of peace. I'm pleased with you in the main, my dear. For a first time, you took a rather severe spanking reasonably well, and you'll be amazed how much better you'll feel by the time dinner is served."
The dominatress was not surprised when the girl impulsively and passionately kissed her on the mouth with a groan and a sigh. For she too knew the magic of the whip and how it could overcome the most recalcitrant and rebellious nature. Also how it could unleash, or, in the case of Hester, waken for the first time new carnal longings. For the way Hester was squirming over the pillow was not entirely due to the girl's trying to disperse the heat from her swollen bottom. She was pussy rubbing to distract herself and to taste the secret thrill of masturbation as a solace to the pangs of her well-thrashed bottom.
And so, when Betty came up about twenty minutes later, she found Hester weeping softly, her pillow-arched bottom blazing and smarting, but if she had examined the surface of that pillow, she would have found it suspiciously moist. For, just as Eleanor had suspected, Hester had relieved the anguish and tension and pain of the spanking-as soon as Betty's mother had left the room-by rubbing herself off to climax.
CHAPTER TEN
Hester was able to come down to dinner that evening, and she had soaked her face in enough cold water and used Murine in her eyes so as to hide much of the telltale puffiness and redness. Eleanor had thoughtfully placed a soft cushion on Hester's chair, and she had kept her word; she didn't breathe a word to Arthur when he seated himself at the dinner table.
However, when the two girls had finally gone to bed and Eleanor and Arthur were alone in their own bedroom, Hester's father turned to his beautiful brown-haired wife and said, "I have the feeling that Hester met her Waterloo this afternoon. Am I right?"
"Darling," Eleanor laughed softly as she came towards him in her filmy nightgown, "I really promised the girl I wouldn't sad a word about it."
"Okay, then don't, just let me guess. You can nod your head and confirm my suspicions, can't you?"
She gave him a saucy wink and then nodded.
"Good! Now, did I guess right when I thought after the first look I gave Hester at the dinner table tonight, that she had got a good sound spanking?"
Eleanor nodded.
"Great! And I'm also sure that I am guessing right when I say that you spanked her every bit as hard as you would Betty!"
Again Eleanor nodded.
"But I'll bet she took some handling," Arthur chuckled with a wink of his own. "I'll bet you had to threaten her with my taking a hand if she didn't submit. I'll bet I'm right about that too?"
Eleanor Hadley nodded again. Then she circled him with her arms and rubbed her cunt against his crotch. "And that's enough guessing, young man." she murmured. "Let's do something about our own emotional life. I made her a promise and I'm going to keep it and that's all I'm going to tell you. If you feel like spanking me because of that, go right ahead."
"You know, you've just given me a wonderful idea," Arthur Hadley murmured thickly as his hands began to squeeze and massage Eleanor's voluptuous buttocks. "Come here, young lady!"
He took her by the hand and led her to a armchair. Eleanor began to be very frightened, her eyes very wide, her mouth open. But the agitated rise and fall of her juicy breasts indicated that she was far from being as apprehensive as she feigned. Over his lap she went, and with his own trembling hands he lifted her nightie over her hips, disclosing the temptingly upthrust hillocks of her milky bottom. He put his left palm on the small of her back, and his right palm hesitantly glided over the warm, quivering naked flesh.
"I can see I'm in the hands of a novice," Eleanor whispered, her cunt already moistenening....
When Hester came home that Friday afternoon from college, she had the misfortune to be smitten with another impulse at horseplay with her younger stepsister. Upstairs in Betty's room, that golden-haired miss was straightening her bed when Hester slipped up behind her and smacked her soundly on her bottom. Whirling around with a cry, Betty pushed Hester and Hester pushed her back, and the next thing they knew they were swinging at each other with pillows.
They grew so vehement and enthusiastic over this new sport, that the pillowslips were torn and the stuffings flying all over the room when suddenly the cold voice of reason and retribution broke in upon their game: "Well, now, is this the way a college student and a senior high-school girl behave?"
Hester and Betty gulped, turned and stared at Eleanor Hadley. It was all the latter could do to keep from showing them a twinkle in her eyes, as she pursued: "I see that both of you are to blame, so both of you will come to my room at once."
"Yes, Mother," Hester stammered, and then, taking a deep breath, she added, "It was really my fault-I started it, Mother-I came in here and slapped her. I think I'm the one that ought to be punished not Betty."
Eleanor Hadley really did smile then and her eyes twinkled. "Good for you, dear," she said gently. "I'll take full consideration of that. But just the same, Betty is big enough and old enough by now to know that those pillow slips are very expensive and they weren't made to be ripped apart like that. Come along now, Betty, just because Hester is big enough to forgive you doesn't mean that I shall."
"I know, Mother," Betty giggled and then put her arm impulsively around Hester's waist, "I just thought that maybe-Mother, could you spank us both at the same time, Hes and me? I think we could both stand it a lot easier if you would."
And so, a few moments later, both Hester and Betty lay on Eleanor's bed, side by side holding hands, clad only in their bras, their panties drawn to their knees, with the door thoughtfully closed, while Eleanor Hadley applied the strap first to Hester's tawny-skinned bottom then to Betty's pink-sheened plumper one.
She gave each of them twenty-five strokes, and both girls were crying softly by the time the last lash fell over their quivering naked reddened posteriors.
"Now, my dears, my own daughters," she said tenderly, "come over to me, each of you, and give me the kiss of peace."
They scrambled down from the bed, and, still holding hands as they had done during their punishment, walked towards Eleanor in the straight-backed chair. And it was Hester who, forgetting entirely she was a college student and all of eighteen, first plumped herself down on Eleanor's lap and without the least self-consciousness over her almost nakedness flung her arms around the dominatress's neck and kissed her and hugged her passionately.
And these were truly happy tears!
Later, that scene caused Betty a problem. Since Hester at eighteen had in such remarkably short order accepted the ignominy of corporal discipline and even displayed affectionate submission towards Eleanor's application of it, she in turn should display the same fortitude when it came to submitting to a father's correctional demonstration which would signify his full acceptance of her as a daughter on the same terms as his own, Hester.
And so, during the last week of October, Betty mulled this problem over in her mind and at last decided to make a gesture of heroic self-sacrifice, not unlike the one in which she had willingly tendered her bare soft bottom to the wicked, noisy sting of Louise Gilmore's leather sole for the purpose of involving her stepsister in the emotional crisis of compassion and solicitude which follow a sound spanking.
Timidly and blushingly, she broached this idea first to her own mother on a Thursday evening while Arthur Hadley and Hester were out shopping at the supermart in the mall, knocking hesitantly at her mother's bedroom door as the latter was enjoying the leisure of a cigarette and a new Book-of-the-Month-Club novel while lounging on her bed in her green satin negligee.
"Come in, baby." Eleanor laid down her book, put her cigarette on the ashtray beside the bed, and beckoned to her daughter. "Something on your mind?"
"Uh huh, M-Mother."
"Fine. I've wanted to have a little chat with my precious too. First, I'm just delighted as I can be over the way you and Hester are get ting along. Things are going so much more smoothly, don't you feel that too, baby?"
Betty had seated herself on the edge of the bed, her face serious, eyes downcast. "Uh-uh huh, sure, Mother. I-I do like Hes lots, now she's not so stuckup. And she seems to have lots of friends over at college, doesn't she?"
"Of course. It just needed a little doing, that was all. Someone to show her she belonged, baby."
"And she-well, that time we were horsing around with the pillows, Mother-she was real brave about speaking up and saying I wasn't the naughty one, wasn't she?"
Eleanor reached up, cupped Betty's chin and lifted the girl's rosy face, stared at her levelly, a tender smile on her lips: "What's really on your mind, sweetheart? You can trust me, you know."
"Well, it's-you know, when you told me at Malibu you were going to marry Uncle Arthur, I was sort of scared. You know, mother."
Eleanor tried to keep from smiling. "Yes, I do, baby. You thought maybe he was going to start right in paddling you when you were naughty, didn't you?"
Now the girl's blushes were furious and she lowered her eyes: "Uh h-huh. I-I think I ought to start calling him 'Daddy'-that is, if you don't think he'd mind, Mummy?"
"Of course not, my precious!" Eleanor drew Betty to her, cuddled her and kised her lovingly. "He'd like nothing better, I can tell you that."
"And maybe-well, I was thinking-" Betty quavered, then hesitated.
"Yes, precious?" Eleanor patted her daughter's blushing cheek affectionately.
"Well, if-if he is to be my father, well, then, I mean, maybe he ought to-to p-punish me the next time I-I'm naughty, M-Mummy. That way, he'll know I-I want him to be my daddy. Do you think that's so, M-Mummy?"
"You know something, precious?" Eleanor's voice was husky with love as she drew the quivering, blushing young blonde to her bosom and tenderly kissed the top of that lovely golden head, "I think you've grown up an awful lot ever since Malibu, that's what I think. And now, you know something else? I feel sort of hungry, even after the nice supper we had. Seems to me there's still a pint of that peach ice cream in the refrig. Why don't you go down and get it and we'll split it, over a piece of that fresh pound cake Jennie baked?"
"Ohh, Mummy, I just love you so!" Betty gasped, her eyes misty, as she hugged and kissed the brown-haired dominatress, then hurried from the room....
Having thus courageously decided to brook her new father's wrath and submit herself to the as yet unknown quantity of his castigatory retaliation, Betty also decided to take Hester into her confidence. "You have to promise on your honor yqu won't say a word to Unc-I mean, D-Daddy," she stammered.
"Why, of course I won't, Betty honey." Hester was staring at herself in the mirror over her dresser, and this time with pleasure. The acne which had plagued her for so long was beginning to disappear. Maybe it was having friends and being accepted by others, she thought to herself. Maybe-then she blushed as the new thought came to her-maybe it was just as Mother had said, spankings would help clear up her complexion by ridding her of her mixed-up emotions and fears and holding back of herself.
"All right then," Betty declared with a sudden bravado. "I-I'm going to make Daddy spank me, that's what."
"You're what, Betty?" Hester gasped, wide-eyed.
"Uh huh!" Betty couldn't help blushing furiously all over again, but she held her head high and went right on, quickly, before her courage ran out: "You see, Hes, I figure that it was an awful problem for you to accept being punished when you were naughty, specially as you'd never been before, and it was worse because it was Mother instead of Daddy who did it. Well, if you could take it-and you did that time we played around with the pillows-then I figure I can too. And I want your father to be mine too-oh, shucks, Hes, you know what I'm trying to say!"
"Sure I do, Betty!" Hester smiled eagerly as she went to give her younger stepsister a big hug and kiss, "and I think you're absolutely aces! I mean, you're the nicest sister a girl could ever have."
"Then you won't breathe a word to him? I mean, I-well, I've got to think up something naughty to do-not too naughty, 'course, 'cause I know Mother wouldn't like that at all. And-and I want to do it as soon as I can so I can have it over with and then we can all be one family-you know what I mean!" Betty finished breathlessly. When she left Hester's room the auburn-haired girl, who had begun to comb out her hair and wore it in an attractive pageboy instead of the former dowdy bun, stared after her thoughtfully for a long moment. Then she giggled and said to herself, "Well, Hes, you're not going to let your younger sister show you up, are you?"
* * *
It was Friday evening, and Arthur Hadley was in the living room with a stack of typed pages on the table beside him, going over the reports he had dictated to his secretary. Next week, he'd told Eleanor at the dinner table, he was going to be in Ventura to work out an efficiency program for a marine building firm, the first really lucrative contract that had come his way since he had opened his own office when moving to Claremont. Eleanor was on the couch, knitting a sweater for Hester, glancing at her handsome husband every so often with love and pride. Hester and Betty were out in the kitchen, having insisted on helping Jennie with the dishes.
All of a sudden there was a crash, followed by a girlish giggle, and then a second crash, followed by Jennie's excited cry: "Now I tol' you two gals not to play games with demdere dishes, now you jist see wut you's done, you two!"
"What in the world?' Eleanor exclaimed as she laid down the sweater and rose. "Arthur, did you hear that?"
"I certainly did!" He took off his reading glasses, laid down the report he'd been reading, and got. up from his comfortable armchair. "We better investigate, I'd say."
When the two reached the kitchen, Jennie was wringing her hands and shaking her head in dismay while Hester and Betty stood side by side, serenely composed. On the floor lay the shattered remains of two dinner plates and a cup and saucer.
"What happened?" Eleanor demanded. "Oh my-my best plates, too! How could you girls have been so careless?'
"They wuz playing wut dey called a jugglin' game, Miz Hadley," Jennie indignantly spoke up, wanting to assure her employers that she had had no hand in this disaster.
"I broke the plates, Daddy," Betty turned to face her stepfather, wide-eyed innocence and a sweet smile registered on her lovely heart-shaped face.
"And I broke the cup and saucer, Mother," Hester spoke up, not to be outdone.
"I think, young lady," Eleanor stared hard at her guileless-looking blonde daughter, "you were the ringleader in this disgraceful little stunt. Up to bed with you and prepare at once! And you, Hester, you're certainly old enough not to encourage your sister!"
"I wanted to juggle too, Mother," Hester blithely retorted with a saucy tilt of her head.
"Did you now, Hester?" Her father irascibly glowered at her. "Well, young lady, since you've already discovered what a spanking is like, let's just see if another one will make you less flippant. Up to your room this minute!"
Eleanor glanced at her husband and imperceptibly shook her head. But before he could catch on, Betty spoke up valiantly: "Daddy, II think you ought to give me my spanking this time instead of Mother. After all, those plates were part of the set you had shipped here, weren't they?"
"Come to think of it, you're right, young lady," he exclaimed. "So you want me to spank you, do you, Betty?"
"Y-yes, D-Daddy."
"I may as well tell you in advance, Betty, that I agree with your mother's methods, and you needn't expect leniency from me. Is that understood?"
"Uh-huh, D-Daddy," Betty stammered, her cheeks a becoming crimson with blushes of emotion.
"Very well then, come with me, Betty," Arthur Hadley sternly decided, and grasped Betty by the wrist and led her back into the living room. Hester faced her stepmother bravely: "You'll be the one to punish me then, won't you, Mother?" she asked.
"Correct! Jennie, get me the martinet from the pantry. Since you're expected to set your sister a good example, Hester, a simple handspanking will hardly suffice. Thank you, Jennie," this as the colored maid handed Eleanor the multiple-thonged little whip with its short wooden handle. "All right, Hester, into the living room with you at once, young lady!"
Hester, head bravely held high, preceded her stepmother into the living room. There she saw Arthur Hadley already seated on the couch, golden-haired Betty draped across his lap, pillowing her head in her folded arms, her skirt and nylon petticoat trussed well above her waist, and her filmy white panties trussed down to her nylon-sheathed calves, in the act of tucking in her waist with his left arm.
"Wait a bit, Arthur," Eleanor smilingly interposed, "let's spank the girls together, so they'll feel they're sharing the penalty for their simultaneous misdeeds. Hester, kneel down on that armchair, pull up your skirt and slip, bend well over the back of the chair!"
"Y-yes, Mother!" The auburn-haired girl did not hesitate as she moved to the armchair, pull up your skirt and slip, bend well over the back of the chair!"
"Y-yes, Mother!" The auburn-haired girl did not hesitate as she moved to the armchair, pulling up her clothes as she approached; she dutifully knelt down, leaned over the back as Eleanor, the martinet tucked under her left arm, approached and ordered, "You hold up your clothes during the spanking, Hester! And take care not to let them fall back down over your naughty bottom unless you want ten extra spanks!"
"I-I win, Mother," Hester sighed, a little uneasy now that the moment of truth was at hand, for the martinet was ominously new to her.
Deftly Eleanor tugged down Hester's panties to the girl's knees, exposing the plump, twitching and contracting tawny-sheened ovals of that well developed, voluptuous naked behind; then, taking the martinet in her right hand, she stationed herself to the penitent's left, and, glancing over at her husband, exclaimed, "Now, then, Arthur!"
Instantly, Arthur Hadley's right palm fell with a sonorous smack on the upturned right bottomsummit of his young golden-haired stepdaughter's naked behind. Betty raised her head, her blue eyes widening with surprise at the emphatic sting of this very first spank. And she began to tell herself that from now on, this was the very last spanking from him she was going to go out of her way to get.
At the same moment, Eleanor Hadley swept the leather thongs of the martinet solidly across the plumpest, most temptingly jutting curves of Hester's naked posterior, and the whistling smack drew a startled gasp from the auburn-haired culprit, who squirmed on her knees, and glanced apprehensively round at her beautiful executioner.
Smack! Arthur Hadley's castigating palm flattened over the jouncy summit of Betty's left bottomcheek. "Oooohh, Daddy!" Betty gasped, surprised at her own lack of stoicism this early in the chastisement. Two bright pink outlines of his hand had at once risen, superimposing over the smooth soft babypink tint of the blonde culprit's naked seat.
Hisss-thuckkk! The martinet's thongs serpentined through the air, clingg avidly to the lower summits of Hester's shivering naked be hind. The auburn-haired girl gasped, "Ohh, M-Mother!", looked round nervously, then squirmed feverishly on her knees, her fingers clutching her uptrussed garments still higher. The vivid streaks left by the thongs stood out lasciviously on the pale tawny sheen of her twitching naked hindquarters.
And thus in the Hadley living room, Betty and Hester shared a sisterly spanking as part of the secret, warmhearted pact the two girls had made; for when Betty had whispered out in the kitchen that she meant to break a dish or two and get Hester's father to inflict her first spanking as his new daughter, Hester, not to be outdone, purposely smashed the cup and saucer to offer herself up as a willing martyr to her new mother's loving chastisement--- When it was over, Betty was kicking and sobbing, begging her father to stop, avowing with a fervent sincerity that could not be questioned that she would never be careless again. Fifty good spanks had left her tender round bottomglobes a blazing scarlet, and as he drew her panties up over her inflamed posterior and slowly righted her on her feet-and kissed her, he murmured, "I'm sorry I spanked so hard, honey." But Betty flung her arms round his neck and in an outburst of love and furiously roused, subtle girlish passion, sobbingly declared, "I deserved it, Daddy, I was awfully naughty! Th-thank you for-for spanking me so good, and I won't ever do it again, honest!"
A similar tender scene of reconciliation was taking place as Hester, her bottom and thighs striped by fifty expertly applied strokes of the little martinet, gingerly eased herself down from the chair, to have her panties pulled up by her smiling, misty eyed stepmother-who had divined Hester's heroic act of self-sacrifice-and to be tenderly hugged and kissed and gently scolded over being so careless....
Not long afterwards, Arthur and Eleanor lay entwined, his cock buried to the hilt inside her pulsating quim, their tongues flicking in the sweet duel of carnal conclave, and he panted, "You know, Ellie, I've a hunch your daughter broke those plates on purpose."
"Umm hmmmm-and you know something else, lover? Your daughter did the same with that cup and saucer."
"Well, well," Arthur Hadley mused, "if anyone would have told me six months ago that Hester would willingly go out of her way to get a bare-bottom tanning, I'd have considered him a candidate for the looney bin."
"And if anyone had told me that my sober sides of a husband would have got such a kick out of spanking my poor little darling Betty's bare seat, I'd have laughed in his face." Eleanor slyly whispered as she insistently squirmed under him. "Ohh, honey, I know it made you randy-take it out on me-give it all to me-oh, Arthur lover-don't spare me, fuck me good and hard-ohh darling!"
And in Hester's room, the door locked as a precaution, Betty and Hester lay in bed together in the darkness, kissing and cuddling, having each soothed the other's burning, inflamed seat with cold compresses and cold cream. And out of that unison which was brought about by happy tears, perhaps it was not at all surprising that the golden-haired and the auburn-haired "sacrificial spankees" should seek an even more intimate solace with questing fingers and soon, the shivering, frictioning warm satin of their eager naked bodies.
