From The Institute of Feminine Discipline. Kimberley tells her charge how it is going to be.
I'm not entirely sure who drew this. It does look like one of Banjos. Kimberley's certainly teaching a lesson here.
This delightful illustration from Underling is called After the Spanking, so aptly named.
Andrea looked the lady sitting across from her up and down critically while they waited for the disciplinarian’s teenaged receptionist Kimberley Kennedy to arrive with the tea that had been requested.
Grace Nielsen was dressed in a neat, light grey business suit, she was a slim woman in her late 30’s, she had straight, shoulder length bleached blonde hair. For one of the rare times in her career running her business of possibly the world’s one and only Spank Shop in Clarkstown, the client had Andrea at a disadvantage, because she knew more about Andrea, than the shop proprietress knew about her.
Generally the client had lived in the town for long enough that Andrea had some personal knowledge, and if she didn’t, then her receptionist Kimberley did. Kimberley and her mother Gabrielle (also an employee) had encyclopedic knowledge about the town and it’s residents.
Grace Nielsen was different. She had only moved into the town a few weeks ago and worked elsewhere, so the Kennedy women hadn’t had time to find out about her, and Andrea had never chanced across the woman.
The two women were still trying to size each other up, when Kimberley arrived with a fully laden tea tray. She served Andrea first, handing her a steaming cup of tea before inquiring “How do you like your tea Mrs Nielsen?’
“White and one please, and it’s Grace.”
Andrea interrupted “I prefer Kimberley to use last names with adult clients, it’s just a respect thing.”
“Oh,” Grace replied, a delicate pink flush rising in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to step on any toes. It’s Ms Kimberley, there is no Mr Nielsen.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kimberley responded politely, giving Grace a freshly made cup of tea, and then retiring from the room.
“She’s a nice girl,” Grace commented, blowing on her tea to cool it, and sipping delicately.
“She is,” Andrea agreed, sipping her own tea and sighing. “She makes a heavenly cup of tea.”
“That she does,” Grace appreciated the hot beverage.
“I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss young Kimmy’s tea making abilities, brilliant though they may be, Grace,” Andrea got straight to the point.
“No, I didn’t,” the woman said with a nervous laugh.
Grace really had Andrea intrigued. She suspected that the woman wanted a spanking for herself. She wasn’t the only adult client Andrea had that required a good old-fashioned spanking from time to time to motivate themselves or function at a certain level. In Andrea’s experience it tended to be ladies like Grace; high-powered businesswomen, who asked for this more than most.
“You don’t have to be nervous with me, Grace,” Andrea said, trying to put the blonde woman at ease. “You don’t need to be ashamed or worried. We’re very discreet, you’re not the only adult female client that has had a trip over my lap.”
Grace looked confused, her smooth brow creasing in a frown “Over your lap?” she repeated, and then her grey eyes widened. “Oh goodness no! I’m not here for myself!”
Different tack, Andrea thought to herself, and prompted “So you’re acting as a go between for someone else?”
“Sort of,” Grace answered, visibly uncomfortable. She set her cup down, and half got to her feet, saying “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I’ve wasted your time.”
Andrea’s eyes and voice grew hard “Sit!” she barked.
Grace stopped and slowly resumed her seat, her grey eyes looking almost fearfully at Andrea.
“Now, Grace,” Andrea said firmly. “You have come here to ask me to do something. The only way this will work is if you are honest and exact about what you want from me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the blonde woman answered respectfully.
Andrea laughed musically at the change that had come over Grace, and reassured her client “It’s still Andie, Grace. That could change depending on what you have to say. You aren’t here to ask for a spanking yourself, so who is that you want spanked?”
Grace sipped her tea and considered the question “I’m not really here for a spanking.”
Andrea’s eyebrows rose “Grace, the sign out the front says Spank Shop. Spankings are my business.”
Grace nodded, and then continued “It’s my son,” she admitted.
Andrea nodded, it was becoming clear to her now “How old is he?”
“Trent is eighteen,” Grace replied.
Many people would have been shocked to discuss the possibility of spanking an eighteen-year-old male, but this was very much in Andrea’s sphere of business. She had spanked all ages, from children to men a good deal older than she herself was. One of her most regular male clients was in fact a father of grown children. His daughter, with whom he lived, made the appointments for him herself. The man’s wife had spanked him at least once a month throughout their married life. He had been devastated when she passed away, and everyone concerned had told Andrea that the spankings she provided helped him through the grieving and mourning process, and continued to ensure that he did not suffer from anxiety or depression. So an eighteen-year-old boy was par for the course, really.
“You don’t want him spanked, though?” Andrea pressed.
“That may happen,” Grace admitted. “It’s not the primary reason I’m here, though.”
“So what is it you want me to do with Trent?”
“I need him babysat.”
The prospect of spanking Trent Neilsen had not bothered Andrea, but the idea of babysitting him was out of left field.
“He’s eighteen, correct?”
“Grace, I don’t have children, but even a relatively irresponsible boy in his late teens should be able to be left at home without a babysitter,” a thought then occurred to Andrea, and she asked gently “He’s not mentally handicapped, is he?”
Grace’s lips quirked up in a small smile, and she answered “No, he’s not.”
“I’m going to need some more,” Andrea told her guest.
“I had Trent when I was still relatively young. I won’t say he was an accident, but he certainly wasn’t planned. His father was long out of the picture when I realized I was pregnant, and I decided to raise him myself. It means I had to work a lot and I haven’t been there for Trent as much as I would have liked. He fell in with a bad crowd and got into some trouble…”
“What sort of trouble?” Andrea asked.
Grace sighed “It was graffiti and vandalism mostly. I’m also ashamed to admit there was a break and enter, too. Due to their age, and the fact that this was a first offence, the magistrate didn’t want to send them to a correctional facility, which was a relief. Trent and his friends were however sentenced to home detention for 3 months.”
“Home detention,” Andrea said. “You’ll have to explain that to me, Grace.”
The woman sighed, and sipped her tea “Trent had a device fitted to his ankle. I guess you’d call it a bracelet. It alerts the police if he strays too far from the house. He can go as far as the front and back gates of the property, but if he goes beyond that the bracelet activates and before long the police are involved.”
“I’m beginning to see why you can’t bring him here for a spanking, although it does sound like he could use one,” Andrea said.
Grace’s eyes went wide with surprise “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want him spanked.”
Andrea frowned “Then why on earth have you come to see me?” she asked. “That’s what I do. We’re a spank shop, the sign is out the front.”
Grace looked uncomfortable “I knew it was stupid of me,” she said sadly. “I have t go out of town on business and I don’t really think I can leave Trent by himself for an entire night…”
“Surely his bracelet will ensure he stays in the house,” Andrea said.
Grace winced “He misses his friends where we used to live, and doesn’t see why he can’t visit them. He may make an attempt. He’s broken the terms of his detention once already, and they may put him in a correctional facility if he does it again…”
“You want me to babysit your son?” Andrea assumed.
Andrea looked into her tea cup, and then said “I’m sorry Grace…”
“I know it’s an imposition and not really what you do,” Grace started desperately. “I’m willing to pay more than your normal fee.”
“It’s not a question of money. I won’t be in town myself on Friday evening.”
“What do you do during the day when you’re at work? Trent sounds like he’d take any opportunity to escape.”
“Oh, he would,” Grace agreed. “We have a neighbor, Mary Anne, she’s a lovely girl. Her husband is a policeman here, she’s expecting their first child. She keeps an eye on Trent for me.”
Andrea nodded. She knew Mary Anne and her husband. The man was often partnered with Tania Wheeler, who was a local police constable and friendly with Andrea and her staff, as well as being an occasional client.
“Mary Anne can’t look after him on Friday?” Andrea probed, looking for a solution.
Grace shook her head “Not this week. She and her husband are going away for the weekend.”
Andrea frowned as she thought about things, she really did want to help Grace, but couldn’t see how, then she had an idea and smiled at the anxious lady seated across from her. “I may have something that could work, Grace.” The blonde woman’s sense of relief was tangible. Andrea picked up the phone and said “Kim, could you come in here please, sweetheart?”
“Of course, ma’am,” the girl answered brightly, and Andrea heard her say to someone in reception “Mrs Tamaki, would you mind keeping an eye on things in here? I just have to see Miss Andrea.”
The girl appeared in the parlour, a smile playing across her pink lips. Andrea grinned as Kimberley fussed with her mane of honey coloured hair, which she was obsessed with. She was wearing a knee length pleated skirt and a fuzzy pink sweater. Kimberley always turned out well for work, and it was obvious from Grace’s expression as she examined the teenager that she too approved of the neat sensible mode of dress. “How can I help, Miss?” she asked.
“It’s actually Mrs Nielsen who requires your services, dear,” Andrea explained briefly.
Between them Grace and Andrea outlined Grace’s issue with her son, and Kimberley listened attentively. “So he’s eighteen?” Kimberley clarified.
Kimberley’s upper teeth worried her lower lip “I’m not sure,” she said doubtfully. “I’ve babysat for Chelsea, and she’s sixteen, but she’s my sister…”
“Kimberley Susan,” Andrea said firmly. “You are very mature for your age, and it sounds as if Trent is not. I have every confidence in you and you will be doing Mrs Neilsen a great service.”
“I have to stay overnight?” she asked.
“Yes,” Grace said. “I’ll get back as soon as I can. I should be home again early Saturday morning.”
“Okay,” Kimberley decided. “I’ll do it.”
“Lovely,” Andrea said, pouring herself another cup of tea. “Grace will iron things out with you in reception, dear, after we’ve finished our chat.”
Kimberley turned and exited, as she left the two women heard her voice rise in a scolding tone. “Grant, Laura! Get your noses back in the corner or Aunty Kimberley’s brush will come out.”
Kimberley Kennedy exhaled in annoyance as she pulled her car up into the Neilsen’s neat driveway on Friday evening. It had not been a good day for the blonde eighteen year old. It had begun badly with her having to spank her younger brother for attempting to scare his twin sister by placing a plastic bug in her bed. All the prank had accomplished was a hot, sore glowing bottom and tears before breakfast. They had been extraordinarily busy at work, and Aunty Andrea had been cross with her for spilling tea on a client. She hadn’t even had a proper lunch break, just a sandwich and a cup of tea at her desk. She was not in the mood for Trent Neilsen to give her any nonsense tonight.
Kimberley opened the car door, and swung her overnight bag out. She had her nightclothes and a change for the next day in there, along with some toiletries. She had also packed her cherry wood hairbrush and a small solid paddle, as well as a short two-tailed tawse. She had hoped she wouldn’t need any of them, but it never hurt to be prepared for all eventualities.
Kimberley rang the doorbell, and was greeted by Grace Neilsen. The woman was dressed for travel and was obviously preparing to leave. A small suitcase was by the door.
“Hello Kimberley, please come in dear,” she invited the girl.
Kimberley stepped inside, and looked around.
“The guest bedroom is down the hall, “ Grace gestured in that direction. “I’ve made up the bed for you.”
“Where’s Trent?” Kimberley asked, trying to peer around Grace.
The blonde woman shook her head “He’s in the living room. I’d hoped he would come and meet you. He’s been quite curious since I told him he had a sitter.”
Kimberley wondered what the boy was expecting, she had a pretty good idea if that was the description Grace Neilsen had used then she wasn’t what he had in mind.
Kimberley followed Grace through to the living room. Trent was sprawled out on the couch. Eyes fixed on the TV set, a game controller in hand, and he was absorbed in killing zombies.
“Trent,” Grace said and received no response.
She repeated the name louder, so she could be heard over the gunfire and moans coming from the television.
“What?” the dark haired boy snapped, still not paying any attention.
“Your sitter is here,” Grace advised him.
“Wonderful,” Trent said in a tone that suggested it was anything but.
Kimberley watched the exchange with a growing sense of disbelief. If she or her sisters or brother behaved this way with Gabrielle they’d already be bare bottomed over her knee, and drowning out the zombies with their howls. The girl dropped her bag on the floor and walked around the couch so that her body blocked Trent’s view of the screen.
“Hey!” he shouted, then looked up, and his mouth dropped open.
When his mother had told Trent she had engaged a sitter for him on Friday night he had envisaged an older woman, middle aged, but not what stood in front of him now. It was hard to guess her age exactly, but she couldn’t be much older than him, and she was a knockout. Not very tall, but a nice body and very very pretty. Trent had not had a lot of experience with cheer leaders, they weren’t part of his social set, but this girl had to be a cheer leader. Being petite, she also didn’t look that threatening. Trent was betting he could get this one to do what he wanted without too much effort.
Partly because he couldn’t see the entire screen, and partly because he was entranced by Kimberley, Trent’s ‘lives’ in the game were very quickly used up and the game ended. “Are you even listening to me?” penetrated through to him.
Trent brought himself back to the here and now “Ummm…yeah…”
“Oh wonderfully articulate!” Kimberley said sarcastically. “There are two ways tonight can go Trent. You can do as I tell you and we may even enjoy it, or you can continue the way we’ve started and I can promise you that you will not enjoy my response to that.”
Trent tried to gauge how serious she was, the red spots of colour standing out on her cheeks and those ice cold blue eyes said very. Trent wondered exactly how she would make good on the threat if it came down to that. He never pushed Mary Anne too far, because the threat of her husband and the action he could take against Trent prevented him from giving the pretty housewife a tough time. Besides she was pretty nice usually.
“Now kiss your Mummy goodbye,” Kimberley ordered firmly, ignoring the boy’s blush at hearing the word ‘Mummy’.
Grace leaned down and let Trent plant a gentle buss on her cheek. Kimberley followed the woman back out into the entrance hall, and Trent loaded his game up again. “I do apologise, Kim,” Grace said, obviously embarrassed by her son’s behaviour. “He’s just a bit angry at the world now and he doesn’t have much else to occupy his time other than those games.”
“I think I could give him something to think about,” Kimberley sniffed, and then pacified Grace by saying. “Oh he’s really not that much different from my brother.” She did not tell her client that her brother was nine years old.
Grace seemed to appreciate the reassurance. She had already rung a taxi, and quickly gave Kimberley her contact details, which the girl keyed into her smartphone. The taxi beeped outside and Grace picked up her bag “Oh, I’d better go. Good luck. Goodnight Trent, be good for Kimberley.”
“Yeah sure, Mum,” came the casual reply from the living room, although Kimberley did note that the boy did not even emerge to wave his mother goodbye.
Kimberley watched the taxi depart, then stalked back into the living room. Trent was once again absorbed in his game. “Are you going to even welcome me?” she asked.
Without taking his eyes off the screen Trent said “Hi Kim.”
Kimberley shook her head “No, that is not going to cut it. Do you know if my little brother acted towards a sitter the way you just have he’d already be in bed and he’d probably have a sore bottom to keep him company.”
“Sucks to be him, then,” was Trent’s unconcerned reply.
That was it! Kimberley had a short fuse and Trent Neilsen had just let it burn down. She picked up the free game controller and turned her character on him, making short work of the stunned teenager.
Trent reacted angrily with a snapped “What the f…?”
“Finish that sentence young man, and you can have a nice soap sandwich as a snack,” Kimberley said calmly.
Trent fumed, but shut his mouth. The girl had an air about her that said she was all too capable of carrying out the threat. In the back of his mind were also the possible consequences if he pushed her too far or tried to resist her physically.
“All I want is your attention, Trent,” Kimberley said. “It’s only common courtesy. Could you show me to my room, please.”
Trent frowned, and said “It’s just down the hall.”
“Trent, I did not ask for directions,” Kimberley explained slowly, as if she were talking to a small child. “I asked you to show me to the room.”
Understanding dawned on Trent’s face, and he heaved himself to his feet with the air of someone very put upon, and headed down the hall with Kimberley following. He stepped into a room along the hallway, and said “This is it.”
Kimberley looked around the room. It was simply decorated and had a bed and a nightstand as the only furniture. Kimberley placed her bag on the bed, and began to unpack it. Trent leaned on the doorjamb and watched her. Her pajamas, even though they were pretty pink flannel ones occasioned no comment, but when she removed two hairbrushes, one made of a light wood and the other a darker model, he asked “Why do you have two hairbrushes?”
Kimberley turned and smiled at the boy, before giving the cryptic reply “One is for brushing hair and the other isn’t.”
Before Trent could ask what that meant Kimberley brushed past him and made her way to the kitchen. Trent initially thought of going back to his game, but the girl intrigued him, and being locked up in the house all the time did not give him the opportunity to meet and interact with any girls as attractive as Kimberley. She didn’t look much older than him, but she acted a lot older. It was a puzzle. He followed Kimberley to the kitchen.
In there the girl filled the kettle and set it on the stove, she dropped a tea bag into a mug and leaned against the bench, her sky blue eyes regarding Trent. Trent squirmed under the clear gaze and opened the refrigerator, removing a can of Coca Cola. “You really shouldn’t drink too much of that,” Kimberley said. “It rots your teeth.”
Trent frowned, but didn’t say anything, merely opened the can and took a tentative sip.
“So have you eaten?” Kimberley asked. “Did your Mum leave anything for supper?”
“Money for pizza,” was Trent’s reply.
The kettle sang, the girl removed it from the gas ring and poured the steaming water into her mug. She jiggled the bag in the hot water then added milk and sugar as she considered what Trent had said. A few of her babysitting charges had attempted to get pizza for supper by saying something similar to her. They were more often than not telling fibs and wound up eating their meal, which was not pizza, sitting on sore bottoms. However Trent was indeed telling the truth, and money was left with a note that it was to be used for ordering a pizza. Kimberley sighed and shook her head “What sort of pizza do you want?” she asked Trent, as she prepared to ring the local pizzeria.
“Supreme,” Trent answered shortly, finishing his Coke and disposing of the can.
While they waited for the pizza Kimberley sat Trent down at the kitchen table and spoke to him as she sipped her tea.
“So you work at a place where you spank people for a living?” Trent asked, taking a bite from his pizza.
Kimberley took a delicate nibble at her own slice of pizza, then dabbed her lips with a paper serviette before answering “That’s a rather concise way of putting it, but yes.”
Trent shook his head and muttered “Bizarre.”
“Is it, though?” Kimberley posed. “What Miss Andrea saw here, and in society in general, was a need for discipline. Do you know the meaning of the word consequences, Trent?”
The boy’s eyes flashed angrily “I’m not stupid!”
Kimberley shrugged “I think that cuff on your ankle is a pretty good argument to the contrary, but I’ll accept that as a yes. Let me try a little hypothetical here. Let’s say you lived in Clarkstown before. You and your friends went out and did something a little silly and got busted. With me so far?”
Trent nodded and reached for another slice of pizza.
“Now the magistrate decides that as it’s a first offence and you come from a decent family that she’ll send you to Aunty Andrea and let her deal with it.”
“Okay,” Trent said around a mouthful of pizza.
“What would you prefer, Trent? A hard spanking from Aunty Andrea or three months of home confinement?”
“How hard is this spanking, and why do you call her Aunty? She’s not actually your aunt, is she?”
“I’ll answer those in reverse order if you don’t mind. Miss Andrea is not my aunt, she is however my employer and I was always brought up to treat adults with respect. Aunty Andrea treats me as if I were a member of her family, a loved niece, so I call her Aunty. A lot of her clients do, actually. It’s just something she seems to bring out in you. Now as for how hard the spanking would be? You were caught breaking and entering and also got done for vandalism, right?”
“Yeah,” Trent admitted grudgingly.
“They’re both pretty serious and offences that are regarded fairly unfavourably here. We had someone in for vandalism once. He was hand spanked over Aunty’s lap, then he got the paddle, actually I did that with another girl who was sent to observe. Aunty finished him off with twelve strokes of the cane. We’ve never had a break and enter, but it would have to be pretty severe. Maybe the Spencer paddle with oil and the strap, then the cane.”
Trent’s eyes were as wide as saucers “Crap!” he breathed.
Kimberley’s eyes narrowed “Language!” she scolded.
“Sorry,” Trent muttered, then seeing the look in the girl’s eyes added “Miss Kimberley.” onto it.
“That’s the second time this evening, Trent. One more warning and you get your mouth thoroughly soaped out.”
“That all sounded pretty intense,” Trent said, swigging a mouthful of Coke.
“Well, he had been very naughty,” Kimberley said scornfully.
“How old was he?”
“Seventeen,” the girl answered.
“It was all bare bottom too,” Kimberley added.
“What for?” a startled Trent asked.
“It isn’t a real spanking unless it’s given bare,” the girl said.
“Do you think that would be preferable to getting stuck in the house for three months?” Kimberley pressed, running a hand through her blonde tresses.
“I dunno,” Trent said doubtfully. “I don’t think I’d be sitting down for six months after that.”
Kimberley greeted the pronouncement with peals of delighted laughter “You’d have a sore bum, definitely, and you’d sleep on your tummy for a few nights, but it wouldn’t be as bad as all that. You may need two sessions; one for the breaking and entering and one for the vandalism. I’d still take it over what you’re going through now, though.”
“Yeah,” Trent admitted, seeing the sense in what the girl said, despite how terrifying it actually did sound. “Shame we can’t go back and change things, isn’t it?”
“It’s a shame we can’t go back and ensure you didn’t do something so senseless in the first place,” Kimberley sniffed. “Have you finished your pizza?”
Trent was already setting his video game up when Kimberley finished putting away the plates and wandered into the living room. He gave her a look as she settled in on the couch next to him. “What?” she said.
“I’m going to play a game of Zombiehunter,” Trent told the girl.
“The fact that you’re loading the game kind of gave it away. Set this one up for two.”
“You play Zombiehunter?” Trent asked her.
“What, you think because I’m a girl I can’t enjoy killing virtual zombies? Sexist, much!”
“Okay, you’re on!” Trent accepted the challenge.
“How did you get so damn good at this?” the boy asked Kimberley when she had handily beaten him in the first game.
“My boyfriend likes the game, and I’m naturally competitive,” Kimberley replied.
“Best two out of three?” Trent asked.
Kimberley giggled “Get ready to have your butt whipped, my friend!”
Trent won the second game and while the third was hard fought Kimberley took it out narrowly. “No fucking way!” Trent exploded as his last life expired. “That cannot happen!”
Kimberley ended the game, and set her controller down. ‘Trent,” she said in a level voice. “I beat you fair and square.”
“Yeah, true,” Trent sighed, setting his own controller down. “Sorry, I just got a bit wound up.”
Kimberley nodded “I can understand that, you must be a little stir crazy being stuck in here all day every day. However it wasn’t just reacting that way to losing, it was what you said. We have had this conversation before young man. You have been warned twice. You only get three lives in this game and you have used your last one.”
Trent stared at Kimberley, uncomprehending. The girl sighed and stood. She took a firm grip of Trent’s earlobe between her thumb and forefinger, then hauled him protesting to his feet. She then dragged him to the bathroom. Kimberley let go of the boy’s ear and began to lather up a washcloth. Trent looked at the brewing scene with a worried expression, and he started to remember comments Kimberley had made earlier about soap sandwiches, and it all became clear to him. Trent had never had his mouth washed out, but he did have a friend whose mother did it when he used profanity. It did not sound like something he wanted to experience, he began to make moves towards the door. “Stay!” Kimberley commanded, and he froze.
Kimberley took a firm grip on the back of Trent’s neck and guided him towards the washbasin. She put the soapy washcloth to his face, and he recoiled from the smell of soap. “Open up!” Kimberley ordered.
Trent shook his head as vigorously as he could with the girl’s iron grip on his neck.
Kimberley sighed “Look, Trent. I warned you. I gave you two warnings and you didn’t heed them. That’s how it works. You only get three strikes. Now you can open up and let me wash your mouth out, which I might add is something that is long overdue, or you can refuse to do so in which case I will call my mother. You’ve never met my mother, you don’t want your first encounter with her to be when she’s angry. You’ll get your mouth washed out and then she’ll spank you. She’ll probably use that bath brush hanging up in the shower. I’ve been hit with one of them and boy do they sting! I won’t spank you, although I probably should. It’s up to you.”
Kimberley was correct Trent had never met Gabrielle Kennedy, but the fact that she had raised Kimberley indicated that everything the girl said was fact. He weighed up his choices, neither of them particularly palatable, and opened his mouth.
“Good boy,” Kimberley cooed, inserting the cloth into his mouth. She really knew what she was doing. Kimberley had washed out the mouths of her siblings, and it was a duty she was regularly given at the shop. It was something that was generally done to younger clients, and they seemed to relate better to Kimberley. She worked the cloth all through Trent’s mouth, ensuring she gave his tongue, teeth and gums a good soaping. Tears streamed down Trent’s face, and the effort of trying not to swallow the lather made him gag. Kimberley removed the cloth, and tossed it in the bath. “Rinse,” she told Trent, releasing her hold on his neck. While Trent stuck his mouth under the faucet Kimberley left the bathroom and went into the kitchen.
Still sticking his tongue out of his mouth to try and rid it off the taste of the soap, Trent entered the living room and saw a steaming mug of cocoa sitting on the coffee table. Kimberley was curled up on the couch, sipping from her own mug. Trent looked at the hot drink, and then at his babysitter. “I thought it might be appreciated, sweetheart. I know I always like one after a mouth soaping. It’s got marshmallows in it, too.”
Trent picked up the mug and sat down on the couch, he blew on it to cool it and sipped experimentally. It was really good. He hadn’t had hot chocolate made for him since he was small. “Why?” he asked Kimberley.
“I told you Trent,” the girl said, cornflower blue eyes regarding over the rim of her cup and though the rising haze of steam. “I thought it would be nice and appreciated.”
“Thanks,” Trent said, his face colouring a little.
“Have you ever been babysat before?”
“When I was little,” Trent replied. “Not since I was twelve, though. I guess Mary Anne sort of babysits me when Mum is at work.”
Kimberley laughed “It’s not quite the same. Your Mum works a lot? You eat pizza pretty regularly? You had no supervision after school?”
“Yeah to all of that,” the boy answered.
Kimberley regarded the answer and said “We may have to have Mrs Nielsen in the shop after this for a little talk about parenting.”
“I’m eighteen, Kimberley.”
“It really doesn’t matter. An eighteen year old can benefit from a smacked bottom every bit as much as an eight year old. Maturity isn’t achieved by reaching some arbitrary age, it’s your behaviour that determines whether or not you’re an adult and deserve to be treated as such.”
“You’re eighteen and I bet you don’t get spanked,” Trent mused.
“You’re half right. I am eighteen, but I still get spanked sometimes,” Kimberley revealed, sipping her cocoa.
“You are?” Trent replied, his eyes widening. “When? What for?”
“Aren’t you an curious little thing?” Kimberley teased gently. “It’s none of your business, but when it happens you can be assured that I’ve behaved in a manner that deserves a good old fashioned pants down butt burning.”
Trent swallowed hard and willed the arousal that the girl’s words had instilled in him down. In his mind’s eye he could see Kimberley’s pretty round white bottom reddening under a firm female palm as she squirmed over a soberly skirted lap. The boy could feel his erection pressing uncomfortably against his jeans.
Kimberley changed the subject, seemingly aware that she was causing some undue stress on her charge. “What are your plans once the cuff comes off and you can go where you want?”
Trent made a face “I guess I’ll have to go back to school.”
“Uni?” Kimberley guessed.
“Nah,” Trent denied. “I was in my senior year of high school when this happened,” he pointed at his ankle. “Mum will want me to finish, not that I think it will do much good.”
‘Trent,” Kimberley said sharply. “Look at me!”
Shocked by the firmness in her voice the boy did as he was told.
“Part of the reason you are in the situation you find yourself is that defeatist attitude. I don’t think you’re stupid, you’ve made some bad decisions, but I don’t think you’re dumb. You will finish school and you will do well. If you want I’ll even tutor you, although I will warn you that if you take me up on that you could very well find yourself being spanked for poor academic performance.”
Kimberley mentioning spanking made Trent’s bottom and other parts of his anatomy tingle.
“What have you done with yourself since being confined to the house?”
Trent shrugged “I dunno. Nothing much. I got really good at Zombiehunter and Skyrim.”
Kimberley failed to be impressed by the boy’s goofy grin or what he thought was a smart reply “I’m sure that will really help you later in life. What you could have done was use the time productively to study and prepare for your return to school.”
“It’s still months away,” Trent tried to dismiss the girl’s words.
“And soon it will be weeks and days away and you still won’t have done anything about it. Don’t try and deny it. I’ve known boys like you. You regard this detention as some sort of holiday and it’s not. If you study online and apply yourself you could be well ahead of the class by the time you go back to school, rather than being woefully behind, and being notorious as the kid who wore an anklet in home detention.”
Trent could see the sense of what Kimberley said, but he felt inclined to keep arguing with her “What am I gonna do anyway?”
“That’s not what you should be asking me, Trent. You should be asking yourself that question. You like videogames. If you studied computers maybe you could even design games. I believe that can be a lucrative field.”
Trent nodded. That appealed to him, but it would require a lot of work. He knew how to use computers, but not the nuts and bolts or complicated programming side of things, possibly he could learn.
“Oh goodness look at the time!” Kimberley exclaimed. “Time for you to get on your jammies and go to bed, Trent.”
“Bed?” Trent queried. “It’s still early.”
Kimberley looked him in the eye “It may be early by your mother’s too lax standards, young man, but it is late by Miss Kimberley’s standards and they are the only ones that matter tonight. PJ’s and bed.”
Trent attempted to argue, but once again his strict young babysitter hauled him up by his ear and marched him to the bathroom, slapping his behind with her free hand. She supervised him cleaning his teeth and washing his face, then followed him to his bedroom and waited just outside the door while he put on pajamas. Trent had a job actually finding a pair, he didn’t usually wear them and he rarely went to bed before his mother.
Trent emerged from the bedroom wearing his pajamas and blushing furiously. They were an old flannel pair that a relative had gifted him. They were a little too short and quite tight, but he had not been able to find any others. “Oh they’re sweet,” Kimberley said gently with a smile. “They could fit a little better. There’s a shop in town that specializes in sleepwear, they’re particularly good at finding nice pj’s and the like for older children. I’ll give your Mum their details tomorrow.”
Trent scowled, but did not say anything until he became aware of Kimberley staring at him expectantly and realized she was waiting for a reply “Thanks for that,” he answered, with sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“Thank you what?” Kimberley asked sharply.
Trent sighed, she wanted the honorific, she was cute but she could be intensely annoying at times. The boy left his mouth stubbornly closed until Kimberley’s hand contacted the seat of his pajama pants firmly. Trent jumped, let out a surprised squawk and he muttered “Thank you Miss Kimberley.”
“Not so hard is it?” the girl asked rhetorically, her scowl replaced with a grin. “Now let’s get you tucked in for the night.”
“Tucked in!” Trent exclaimed. “But it’s only…”
The girl was frowning again and her hand twitched.
Trent’s shoulders slumped and he allowed Kimberley to lead him by the hand into the bedroom. He stood by while she pulled back the covers, she let him get into bed, then pulled the blankets up, tucked them around him, kissed him lightly on the forehead and murmured “Sleep tight, Trent.”
The boy mumbled something indistinct by way of reply, and lay his head back down, closing his eyes. There was a gentle click as Kimberley switched off the lights and closed the door behind her.
Trent did not go to sleep. He kept an ear out for the sound of the television in the living room and waited until he could no longer hear it, then got out of bed, stripped off his uncomfortable and unfamiliar pajamas, exchanging them for jeans, trainers, a t-shirt and jumper and a leather jacket. He had arranged to meet a friend, one of the same friends he had been caught breaking into a house with not that long ago. The friend also wore an anklet, but the two boys figured they could meet up, have a few laughs and plan what to do once their detention was over, then head back home. By the time the police registered that they were on the move and sent someone to apprehend them, they should be on their respective journeys home and had come up with what they believed were plausible reasons as to why they had violated the terms of their sentences.
Trent lifted the window sash, and took note of the chilly air that greeted him from outside. Just as well he had worn the jacket. It was a cool evening. He put one leg out the window, then climbed out awkwardly. He stood in the garden bed, and turned when he heard an annoyed sounding cough. He was looking directly into the icy blue eyes of Kimberley Kennedy.
The girl had tied her immaculately cared for clouds of honey coloured hair into a ponytail and her lips were compressed into a tight line. She was dressed in the same pretty pink flannel pajamas that Trent had seen her remove from her overnight bag and lay out on the bed in their guest bedroom a few short hours earlier. Kimberley’s arms were crossed under her ample chest, and one of the feet clad in fluffy slippers was tapping angrily.
“Going somewhere?” she asked coldly.
Trent swallowed hard and shivered, she was as angry as he had ever seen a woman. He had to think fast. He willed his face to go blank and murmured “Where am I? What! I’m outside! I must have been sleepwalking.”
It was a poor excuse and it was not going to work. “Get inside!” Kimberley snapped, and when Trent did not move, she barked “Now!” and followed it up with a stinging slap to his bottom that he felt even through the thick denim material of his jeans. He jumped, yelped and hurried through the open door with Kimberley Kennedy hot on his heels.
Kimberley seated herself in Grace Nielsen’s armchair. Trent stood in front of her, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Do you need to make water?” Kimberley asked archly.
“No,” Trent replied, then seeing the look in the girl’s azure eyes, added “Ma’am.”
“Then why are you jiggling?”
“I dunno, scared I guess.”
“Oh, you’re right to be worried, young man,” Kimberley told him. “Take your jacket off and hang it up on the coat rack, you can also remove your jumper, fold it neatly and place it on that chair,” the annoyed girl indicated another chair in the living room.
Trent did as he was told, but was puzzled as to why he was doing this. “Stand in front of me,” Kimberley commanded after Trent had put his folded jumper on the chair.
“Look at me,” the girl ordered as Trent stood in front of her.
Kimberley looked the frightened young man up and down, and then launched into a world-class scolding “What really burns me Trent is that not only have you disappointed me and let down your mother, you must think I am a complete and utter idiot!”
“No, Miss Kimberley, I don’t…” Trent started.
“I did not give you permission to speak, little boy!” Kimberley snapped. “From now on you will only speak when directly asked a question. Am I understood, Trent?”
Trent gulped, and whispered “Yes ma’am.”
“I say you think I’m stupid, because you clearly thought you were so clever climbing out the window like that. You’re far from the first little boy I’ve babysat…”
“I’m not little!” Trent burst out.
Kimberley’s sapphire eyes flashed, and she countered “Yes you are! My nine-year-old brother is more mature than you are, young man. He at least has the sense not to try and sneak out when he’s been put to bed. I’m going to punish you for that, my boy, and you’re going to learn that you are never too old to be spanked. You didn’t even wait for me to settle when you tried going. I heard you getting dressed. Then you further insulted my intelligence by trying the sleep walking line! You have disappointed me because I thought I’d made some impression on you this evening, clearly that is not the case, so I am going to have to use less pleasant methods of discipline.”
Trent briefly reflected that he had not considered the mouth soaping he received early particularly pleasant, but wisely chose not to vocalize the thought.
“You also did not think of your mother. If I hadn’t caught you before you left the property then the police may have. What do you think they would have done to you?”
Trent felt tears pricking his eyes, he dropped his head and mumbled “I dunno.”
“You dunno,” Kimberley said acidly, mimicking the boy. “Well, I do. This is a second offence Trent, if you’d been caught this time they would have put into prison. How do you think the other prisoners would treat someone cute and young like you?”
Trent swallowed hard and whispered “Not good, ma’am.”
“No, not good at all,” Kimberley agreed. “They’d make the spanking you’re about to receive, and I intend to spank you VERY soundly, seem mild by comparison. Can you even imagine what you being sent to prison and being abused by other inmates would do to your mother?”
“No. miss,” Trent could feel himself starting to cry.
“I’d keep those tears if I were you, mister. You’re going to need them. Go to the bathroom and use the toilet please Trent.”
“The toilet?” Trent said wonderingly. “I don’t need to…”
Kimberley was shaking her head “Is there something about the words do as I tell you that you don’t understand?”
“Then show me that it makes sense to you by going to the bathroom and relieving yourself.”
“Miss Kimberley,” the boy said softly, a flush creeping into his cheeks. “I went to the toilet before bed.”
“I know you did, Trent. I supervised it. I may be young, but I do have quite a bit of experience in spanking bottoms and when faced with a spanking you often need to visit the bathroom. If you wet yourself over my lap, you will the sorriest, sorest bottomed young man in this entire town when I’m done with you, Trent.” Kimberley vowed.
Trent stood open mouthed in front of her for moment, his face blazing red, before he almost ran to the bathroom to do as he had been ordered.
“Feel better?” Kimberley asked, when Trent reappeared in the living room.
The boy was tempted to respond that no he did not feel better, but the fact was that he had needed to urinate and he did feel relieved, so he dropped his head and answered politely “Yes, ma’am.”
“You should always listen to Aunty Kimberley,” the girl said, seating herself on the couch and patting her lap. “Come to me, please, young man. We’ve got a bottom to spank.”
Trent’s stomach did flip flops as Kimberley cheerfully made that pronouncement and he shuffled over to her. Looking at the shining blonde hair, the soft pink lips, the sparkling blue eyes and her curvy form in the snug fitting pajamas had an affect on another part of the boy’s anatomy, and he felt his member spring to life and press painfully against the zip of his jeans.
Kimberley frowned up at Trent and asked “Are you okay? Your face looks as if you’ve got a tummy ache.”
“I’m okay,” Trent managed to gasp as he tried to will his erection away.
Kimberley made matters worse by grabbing hold of the waistband of the boy’s trousers and dragging him over to her. Her fingers went to work on the buttons and Trent asked in startled tones “Miss Kimberley, what are you doing?”
“Taking your pants off, of course,” the girl replied very matter of factly, unsnapping the buttons and preparing to lower the zip.
“Why?” Trent asked in a strangled voice.
“Because a spanking is not a spanking unless it’s given on the bare bottom,” Kimberley explained, yanking Trent’s jeans down to his knees.
The girl stopped, staring at the tip of Trent’s swollen penis, which was poking cheekily out the waistband of his bikini briefs. Kimberley sighed, why did boys have that happen to them? It was so inconvenient. “I assume this is why you didn’t want your pants coming down?” she said.
Face bright red with embarrassment, Trent nodded.
Kimberley tried to work out how best to deal with it. It was not Trent’s fault. She like to think her physical attractiveness had something to do with it, and it did, but boys could not help this sort of reaction, it was caused by nerves and excitement. Andrea believed in relieving the boys of it prior to beginning the spanking, although she was starting to alter that thinking, and Kimberley was as well. Admittedly it was fun to ‘milk’ them, but she suspected that they enjoyed it too, and they weren’t meant to enjoy any part of a spanking. However Kimberley wanted her spankee’s thoughts focused on what she was doing to their bottoms, not what was happening the other side. ‘Milking’, she decided was not the right option for Trent, neither was sending him to the bathroom to get rid of it himself. So what should she do? Put him over her lap and hope the pain of the spanking chased it away?
“Stay there,” Kimberley ordered Trent, as she seemed to come to a decision. She stood up and disappeared out of the room. Trent stood in place, his jeans around his ankles, feeling extremely stupid and wondering what the pretty blonde was up to now.
Kimberley returned carrying a towel, she sat down on the couch again and arranged the towel over her lap. Trent frowned down at it. He had a good idea of exactly why she had done that and it was concerning for him. “Get your shoes off,” Kimberley told Trent.
The boy bent and removed his shoes.
“Take your pants off as well, fold them and put them with your jumper,” Kimberley followed up with.
Trent did as he was told.
“You’ll be free to kick around now, and you will want to kick,” the girl said as she pulled him closer to him, with her hands on his hips. Before Trent could protest his underpants were whisked down to his knee hollows and he gasped as the waistband flicked his painfully erect shaft and it sprang free. He had no time to appreciate the sensation as with a skill borne of practice Kimberley flipped him over her lap. He felt her arm around him, pulling his legs up onto the couch. She rested her hand on his cool, lily white bottom and said firmly “Now, you look just like any little boy waiting for his spanking from Mummy. A spanking I might add, you really need, dear boy.”
Trent blushed and felt his stiff member push insistently into the soft material of the towel covering the girl’s lap. Kimberley liked to fondle and massage the cheeks before a spanking so that she could get the buttocks to relax and really ensure that the recipient felt the stinging bite of the slaps, and didn’t hurt her hand by tensing them up, however this time she was concerned that doing that to Trent would only further heighten his arousal, and may even cause him to orgasm before she commenced the chastisement and she didn’t want to do that.
CRACK SMACK SLAP SPANK!
Four blows rang out quick and hard. Trent’s yell from the sting of the first one was still being heard as the last one landed. Kimberley looked down at the pink roses that her smacks had caused to bloom on Trent’s tender cheeks, and she smiled. Sometimes spanking virgins could be fun. This was going to be one of those times.
Trent winced as a fifth slap landed, followed by a sixth. They were coming too quick for him to count now and Kimberley had settled into a steady rhythm. She did not give the wriggling eighteen-year-old time to catch his breath, and she continually changed pace and intensity as well as location. Never allowing her victim to anticipate any sort of pattern was part of her technique, she found keeping them guessing had a wonderful effect on a spanked boy or girl. She was also dimly aware that the pressure in her lap from Trent’s erection had disappeared, which meant that he wasn’t thinking about his unintended arousal, but rather the hot little fire Kimberley was industriously building on his squirming, rapidly reddening rear end.
Kimberley kept a close eye on the colour of Trent’s rump, and continued to assiduously stoke the fires before her hand sought fresh pastures, which were to be found on the juncture where legs and buttocks met. It had two names. Many called it the ‘sit spot’, because it was where most rested their weight when they sat. Kimberley also referred to it as the ‘spank spot’. It was an area that experienced spankers ensured they gave a good going over. Trent’s floodgates broke as Kimberley’s experienced palm attacked his ‘spank spot’. The tears started flowing down his face and as Kimberley spanked on she smiled, this is how she wanted the young man over her lap, bawling his eyes out and struggling mightily to escape her firm grip as he experienced the cleansing fire of a long overdue spanking.
Trent’s buttocks and upper thighs were the same uniform shade of red, and giving off waves of shimmering heat, by the time Kimberley decided that the boy had been sufficiently ‘warmed up’. She let him sob and gasp as he came to the realization that she had stopped slapping his very sore back end.
“You okay, Trent?” Kimberley asked gently.
“I…uhhhh…I tthink so, Muhmiss Kumberley,” he blubbered.
“Can you stand up, darling?”
“Oh thank God,” Trent sighed, then added. “Yes, ma’am.” He was already levering himself off the girl’s lap and to his feet. Once he was standing his knees almost buckled, and Kimberley caught him before he could fall.
“Careful,” she cautioned. “Don’t want you to hurt yourself, sweetheart.”
Trent had to stop himself from giggling that Kimberley did not see the irony in what she had just said. Her spanking had caused him a great deal more hurt than a brief fall to the floor ever could.
All modesty now forgotten, Trent’s hands flew to his bottom, and he began to rub hi cheeks furiously, trying to quench the burning infernos Kimberley had lit, he danced around as he did it.
Kimberley sat back and watched for a moment, enjoying the spectacle. As a rule she, and the other members of the Spank Shop, did not generally permit rubbing of the buttocks until they granted permission to do so, but Trent didn’t know that, and strictly speaking he wasn’t really a client, besides he looked really cute doing the ‘hot bottom boogie’, as she had come to call it.
The girl allowed the performance to continue for a couple of minutes, before saying firmly “That’s enough of that carry on Trent. Hands on head, and into the corner for me.”
Trent continued to rub and hop up and down as if he had not heard her.
“Trent,” Kimberley said sharply. “Did you hear me young man?”
Kimberley’s lips drew together in a thin determined line. She stood up, grabbed hold of one of Trent’s upper arms, and landed a volley of sizzling smacks on his scorched heinie, scolding as she did so “When I tell you to do something, my boy, you do it! Now,” SMACK. “Get,” CRACK. “Your” SPANK. “Behind,” SLAP. “Into that corner now!” and she slapped him into it every step of the way.
Trent wailed and protested, but still let himself be led to the corner. “Hands on head!” Kimberley commanded.
Meekly Trent folded his hands over his short coal black hair with a shuddering sob.
“Much better,” Kimberley pronounced. “Now you just stay there and face the wall. Aunty Kimberley will let you know when you can come out.”
Once he had himself under control, and had stopped bawling Trent became aware that he was alone in the room. He had no idea where Kimberley had gone, but she was not in the room. His bottom still stung abominably and he desperately wanted to try and soothe it a little, he cautiously removed his hands from his head, and then placed them on his steaming derriere and began to massage the scalded globes with a sigh of relief. He was barely aware that the pleasurable feeling of removing some of the heat and sting from his harshly abused tail had caused his erection to return, and he was so focused on what he was doing that he was completely unaware that he was no longer alone in the living room.
Kimberley stopped in the doorway. Her sapphire eyes sparked, and her lips pursed angrily. She crossed to the red bottomed young man in the corner, grabbed his wrists, pulled them way from his glowing glutes, and slapped them firmly, while scolding “I do not remember giving you permission to rub your buttocks young man! You rub when Aunty Kimberley says you can rub. If there’s any more of this willful disobedience I’ll tie your hands in front of you and take a cane to your backside! Hands on head! Now!”
Protesting and trying to squirm away from Kimberley’s punishing palm Trent tried to comply. Once he had done so, Kimberley spun him around so that he was facing her. She sat back on the couch and picked up one of the objects she had placed on the coffee table and held it up. It was an old fashioned oval hairbrush, made out of a dark wood. “When I unpacked earlier this evening, Trent, you wondered why I had two hairbrushes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Trent said nervously.
“At the time I said one was used for brushing hair and the other wasn’t. Do you know what I meant?”
Trent thought about it, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew exactly what Kimberley intended to do with the brush in her hand at the present moment. He had heard about hairbrushes being used to spank people, and he guessed maybe it used to happen years ago, but now it was just a joke, wasn’t it? If there was some sort of worldwide memo that had gone out telling people that they weren’t to use hairbrushes to spank bottoms it had somehow managed to bypass Clarkstown, because there was little doubt in Trent Nielsen’s mind that he was soon going to be back over Kimberley Kennedy’s lap having his bottom peppered by the back of that wicked looking hairbrush she held in her harmless looking little hand.
“Uhhhh…I think so, miss,” Trent stammered.
“Would you like to enlighten me with your thoughts, sweetheart?” Kimberley asked sweetly, her white teeth shining brightly.
“You’re going to spank me with it, Miss Kimberley,” Trent said, closing his eyes and trying not to start crying again.
“Clever boy!” Kimberley exclaimed, her azure eyes shining. “Back over Aunty’s knee, please.”
Trent settled himself a little less awkwardly over the girl’s lap on his second journey over it this evening. His member twitched a little as it made contact with the soft material of Kimberley’s pajama bottoms. Kimberley ignored the feeling, and began to glide the brushes flat surface across the still steaming hemispheres, and asked “How does that feel, Trent?”
“Smooth,” Trent answered, focusing his thoughts of trying to will his growing erection away.
“Just that?” Kimberley probed.
Trent shuddered “Yes ma’am.”
That did it, his organ shriveled as he thought of that brush smacking down across his already battered backside “Yes, miss.”
“Good boy, “ Kimberley purred, and then unleashed her cherry wood hairbrush.
Trent’s howls drowned out the firm crisp smacks of the brush as it roamed up and down his bucking hindquarters. Kimberley was very thorough. One arm pinned the struggling adolescent over her firm thighs, and the other rose up and down mechanically, as she ensured the brush roasted every inch of the boy’s buttocks and upper thighs. Trent could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks, and they collected in a pool at his chin and dampened the arm of the couch, he could taste that his nose was running and he was drooling too. He had never thought this much pain could be concentrated on one part of the body. His bottom felt like it was ready to burst into flames, and no matter how he twisted and squirmed he could not avoid the brushes flat, hard punishing surface.
Kimberley had Trent close to hysterics, and his wailing had turned into deep sobs as he simply lay limply over her lap, and his backside soaked up the stinging slaps. “Legs apart,” Kimberley ordered, using the brush to indicate that she wanted the boy to spread his legs.
Trent forced himself to do as he was told. Somewhere in the back of his mind a small voice was telling him that this was not going to be fun. Kimberley looked down at the creamy tender flesh in between Trent’s legs, her grip around the brushes handle tightened, and she brought it flashing down. Trent found new voice as his inside thighs were seared. Kimberley held tight, and pinkened up the snow white virgin interior thighs. It seemed a little cruel to spank those areas, but in Kimberley’s mind it was a necessary, if evil, part of any sound spanking.
Trent blubbered over the girl’s lap and heaved great racking sobs as she set the brush aside. “You can close your legs, darling,” she told him gently, and watched as he gratefully put his legs together and hid the soft, freshly spanked flesh between them.
Kimberley leaned across Trent, and even through the thick material of her pajama top she could feel the heat from his bottom radiating not unpleasantly onto her full breasts. She picked up something that she had set on the coffee table earlier. She dangled it in front of Trent’s face and asked him to look at it.
The boy tried to focus on the thing Kimberley was holding in front of him through eyes blurred by tears. “Do you know what this is, sweetness?” she asked softly.
Not trusting himself to speak Trent shook his head.
“Do you know what a tawse is?” the girl asked.
“No, Miss Kimberley,” Trent sobbed.
“It’s a type of strap,” Kimberley explained. “They’re from Scotland. There are two types of them. Some of them have a split at the end to make two tails and others have two splits so you get three tails. This one is a small one with two tails. The tails make it sting just that little bit more.”
A shudder went through Trent as he was given this information. He wanted to beg Kimberley not to use the little strap on him, but he doubted it would have any effect, a part of him also knew that he deserved whatever she decided to give him.
“I’ll just finish you off with the tawse, baby,” Kimberley said, not unkindly. “This will sting, so you hold on tight.”
Trent clenched his hands into tight fists and willed himself not to tense too much. Kimberley raised the tawse high and brought it screaming down. As it struck home on the upper right buttock with a loud meaty crack, Trent answered it with a roar of his own, and bucked wildly. Kimberley determinedly strapped her charge. She travelled all down one side, from the top of the swell of one glowing globe down to the knee hollow, so that Trent would feel that sting for the rest of the evening. One side properly scorched, she attacked the other side, starting at the back of the left knee right up the thigh and over the cheek to the top. Trent simply bawled and prayed it would end.
Kimberley took a deep breath, she dropped the tawse on the floor and looked at the cooked rear in her lap. The girl had given plenty of sound spankings over her short career as a disciplinarian, but she rated this as one of the best. She had seen Andrea give some absolute humdingers and participated in some of them, but this was the best she had conducted from start to finish.
She let Trent lay over her lap and cry himself out. After a few moments she assisted him to his feet and held his hands by his sides while he blubbered in front of her. “Oh don’t you look a sight?” she cooed. Kimberley took some tissues from a box on a lamp table next to the couch, and used them to gently wipe the tears, snot and saliva away from Trent’s face. She had him blow his nose noisily, and then walked him to a corner. She installed him there, and folded his hands over his short, sweat sodden hair. She wiped her wrists and forehead with some more tissues and made herself a cup of tea. Trent did his corner time while Kimberley drank her tea and admired her handiwork glowing brightly in the corner.
When she had finished her tea, Kimberley called Trent over to her. He made his way, wincing as his superheated cheeks rubbed gently together further inflaming them. Kimberley took him in her arms and arranged him in her lap, she enjoyed the feeling of his stove hot bottom nestling in her lap, and even commented “Those little peaches of yours are as hot as a griddle young man, I could cook pancakes on them.”
Trent sniffled and Kimberley smiled and drew his tear damp cheek to her bosom and gently rocked him. When she heard a small snore she knew it was bedtime.
Kimberley coaxed the boy to his feet and led him to bed. She put him back in his pajamas and tucked him in with a gentle kiss on his forehead. When she looked in on him later, he had kicked the covers off, lowered his pajama pants and rolled over onto his tummy. Kimberley smiled to herself. Despite the fact that Trent was taller and better developed physically he looked just like her little brother when he was put to bed after a good, hard bedtime spanking.
Drawn by the smell and sound of frying bacon and eggs Trent wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and his still sore bottom. “Good morning, sleepy head,” Kimberley greeted the boy brightly turning from the sizzling pan she was tending on the stove. “There’s juice on the table and breakfast will be ready soon if you want to sit down.”
Trent paused at the thought of sitting, then saw that there was a soft pillow sitting on one of the chairs, he sank into it gratefully, murmuring “Thank you Miss Kimberley,” as he did so.
“My pleasure, darling,” Kimberley told him, sliding two freshly fried eggs and a couple of rashers of crisp bacon onto his plate.
Kimberley served herself breakfast and poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee into a mug.
When Grace Neilsen let herself in she was greeted by the sight of the two teenagers chatting cheerfully over their breakfast.
“Good morning, Mrs Nielsen,” Kimberley said. “Would you like some coffee, ma’am?”
“Hi Mum!” Trent said to his mother, then mopped up his egg yolk with some toast.
Grace Neilsen stopped and stared. Trent rarely rose before ten, and it was only nine. “Thank you Kimberley, coffee would be nice. Why is Trent up so early?”
“We had a little chat last night,” Kimberley explained, handing the woman a steaming mug.
After Kimberley had finished her breakfast and while Trent was showering, Grace paid the girl. Kimberley said “Mrs Nielsen, I’d have to check this with Aunty Andrea, but I think it would be really good if we had a discussion with you and Trent when his detention is up.”
The older woman nodded and accepted the card the girl gave her.
As Kimberley waved goodbye Grace Neilsen looked down at the card in her hand and smiled. It had the name Spank Shop on it, but underneath instead of Andrea’s name and number, was the name Kimberley Kennedy with the girl’s cell phone number under the shop’s telephone number, and the girl had styled herself Discipline Consultant.