The humble grass tennis court. Where Veronica's ordeal both started and ended.
From Firmhand Spanking. Veronica displays her scorched backside.
Picture from Spanking Dollars. Veronica bends for the cane.
A recent JPC addition perfectly captures corner time.
Andrea Mahoney had just picked up her tennis bag and was about to go out on court for her doubles match, when a loud burst of extremely inventive profanity came from centre court, followed by the sound of the glass panels in the clubhouse doors shattering as a racquet was flung with a good deal of force through them.
Andrea looked down at the expensive tennis racquet lying amongst the shards of glass and then onto the court. The dark and athletic Desiree Price was staring at her doubles partner in open-mouthed astonishment. On the other side of the net the winners of match, the mother and daughter team of Gabrielle and Kimberley Kennedy were no less shocked by the behaviour of Veronica Dixon-Thompson in reaction to the loss, although Kimberley could clearly be seen mouthing the words, “What she needs is a smacked bottom.”
President of the club, fussy, white haired, middle aged Noel Preston bustled out onto the deck, and although he didn’t say anything his stance and expression clearly indicated that he wanted an explanation of some sort.
Desiree took a step away from Veronica, holding up her hands in the surrender position. Gabrielle rolled her eyes and even Kimberley shook her head. Veronica stood in the centre of the court, her eyes blazing and posture and expression still filled with rage.
“Again Veronica?” Noel asked. “That’s the third time in six months and don’t tell me your grip slipped, that’s what you said last month.”
The aristocratic Ms Dixon-Thompson sighed theatrically and asked, “How much. Noel?”
The club president stared at her in apparent disbelief and seemed to be incapable of speech. When he did recover from his astonishment, he said in a less than controlled voice, “It isn’t just the cost of replacing the door, although I can assure you Veronica, you will pay for it. It’s the frequency with which we have to deal with your little outbursts. It’s not a great example for the juniors.”
The brunette at the centre of the incident seemed to be uncaring of exactly how much she had infuriated the normally mild mannered club president.
“Oh whatever!” she said huffily. “I’m going to go home, send me the bill.”
Once Veronica had departed the scene of the crime, Noel looked around and said decisively, “If we have enough committee members present I’m calling an emergency meeting.”
“She does pay for the breakages,” Stephanie Goldwater argued. “She also gives the club a lot of money.”
“That’s not really the point, Stephanie,” Gabrielle Kennedy said, sipping from the glass of cold water in front of her. “It’s a dreadful example for the juniors. Even Kimberley remarked that she needed a jolly good spanking, and I’m tempted to agree.”
“Well,” Noel entered the conversation. “Not everything can be fixed with a spanking.”
“Not everything,” Andrea agreed. “Plenty of things can and Veronica’s attitude could be one of those.”
“I’d rather expel her from the club.” Noel said. “She’s very high maintenance.”
“We’d survive without her contributions,” David Jadeja, the club’s treasurer and local CPA said. “However we’d have to go back to other fundraisers, which I know you never liked, Noel.”
“Oh God the bingo nights and raffles you mean?” Noel sighed, running a hand through his luxurious head of white hair.
“And the trivia nights,” David added.
“Oh, I liked those,” Stephanie remarked. “I never knew Moneybags Dixon-Thompson was the reason we stopped them.”
“Me either,” Gabrielle said. “Kimmy and Chelsea have asked when we were going to have another one. I think they wanted to put a team of youngsters together and show up the ‘oldies’.”
“Can we get back to the matter at hand, please?” Noel begged. “All in favour of expelling Veronica from the club? Aye.”
Counting his own hand Noel did a quick count and wrote it down on the pad in front of him.
“And all against?”
The club president frowned as he realized there was a tie.
“So we just keep her let on dismantling the club and setting a bad example for the club?” Noel said.
“It’s not quite that dramatic,” Andrea drawled and Noel’s eyes fixed on her, she had been one of the people who had voted no. “Gabrielle made a suggestion earlier. Maybe we should explore that.”
“Andrea, look I know you hand out spankings at that shop of yours, but Veronica is a grown woman, the behaviour is ingrained,” Noel argued.
“I would have thought that with Brian, my son-in-law,” Stephanie said. “A trip over Andrea’s lap soon made him into the best most attentive fiancé any girl could ever hope for.”
Heads turned to the blonde and eyes questioned.
“Ooppps,” she said, colouring. “I have just spoken out of turn.”
“I think Brian will survive the embarrassment, Stephanie. None of his friends are members here,” Andrea murmured to reassure her friend.
“This is all assuming that Veronica will even agree to it,” Noel pointed out, his tone indicated he did not think such approval would be forthcoming.
Andrea gave a little shrug. “The offer is there. Discuss it with Veronica and tell her what options she has.”
“It’s us that are out of options,” Noel said glumly. “We can’t get a majority agreement one way or the other we’re rather stuck until I can go through the rules of the club.”
“If she doesn’t agree to accepting some sort of discipline from yours truly,” Andrea said. “I’ll break the deadlock by changing my vote and you can expel her.”
“You’d do that Andrea?” Noel asked.
“Of course I would. I understand how difficult she is. I’ve played against her, she has some definite anger management issues, but despite that she is a good player and she’s very keen. There’s a genuine passion for the game, too. I know you don’t think spanking is going to work, but I think we should give it a chance. It worked for Marta,” heads nodded around the table as Andrea spoke about the hot headed young rising star of the professional circuit who had bet a spanking on the outcome of a game against the elegant chestnut haired disciplinarian and lost. “It may work for Veronica. Now if the business is concluded I think I can still make my doubles match.”
“Fancy making that silly mistake on a tax return, David!” Andrea scolded the possessor of the dusky red bottom in a corner of her parlour, or ‘spanking room’ as many of its occupants referred to it. “You gave poor Mrs Holland quite a shock when she received that nasty letter from the tax office asking her to pay all that money. You simply must be more careful in future. I wouldn’t want you to land the tennis club with a similar sort of request. You’re fortunate she only wanted you tawsed, young man!”
“Yes, Aunty Andrea, thank you,” the young accountant murmured to the wall.
Andrea was about to launch into another blistering scolding when the phone by her chair rang loudly. Andrea looked and noticed it was reception calling her. “Yes Kimmy?” she answered.
“I’ve got Mr Preston on the line for you ma’am,” the girl said in a polite businesslike tone.
“Put him through, please dear.”
“Yes ma’am. Putting you through Mr Preston.”
“Noel! How are you?”
“I’m okay,” Noel Preston replied. “Veronica has just been here to pay for the repairs. I’ll be getting someone in later today.”
“Excellent!” Andrea enthused. “Did you put what we discussed at the meeting to her the other day?”
Hearing the first name of the tennis club president David Jadeja’s ears pricked up in the corner and he moved his gaze from the wall. “David!” Andrea’s voice cracked sharply. “I did not give you permission to turn around, do you want Aunty to get her lexan paddle?”
With a sigh David trained his eyes back on the wall in front of him.
If Noel Preston was surprised that his friend and treasurer of the tennis club was attending the Spank Shop as a client he gave no sign of it. “I did put that to her, Andrea.”
“And?” the elegant woman asked eagerly.
“She seemed to think the whole thing was a bit of a joke, but she agreed to it if that’s what it takes for us to keep her at the club.”
“That’s great news, Noel. I don’t think either you or the club will regret it. Ms Dixon-Thompson’s sitmedown may disagree, though,” Andrea chuckled.
“She did put a stipulation on it,” Noel said uncomfortably. He liked Andrea, but he’d heard stories about her shop and she could be a formidable woman.
“Oh?” Andrea asked, arching an eyebrow.
“She won’t come to the shop, you’ll have to go to her house.”
Andrea shrugged. “I’d half expected that. I don’t generally make house calls, but I can make an exception here. I hope she realizes that will cost her extra.”
“Well, it’s not as if she can’t afford it,” a relieved Noel said. “You should have seen the roll of bills she pulled out to pay for the door. She could have choked a horse with it, and I’m sure that’s just her carrying around money.”
“It doesn’t matter how wealthy you are a spanking still hurts, Noel,” Andrea informed her friend.
“So, I’ve heard,” he agreed. “Especially when it’s you doing the spanking. Andie, please don’t let her get out of this. She may try bribery or something else like that. She’s a snake.”
“Oh Noel,” Andrea laughed. “Don’t be so melodramatic. Rest assured, dear. I’ll do my job and Veronica will learn that very painfully.”
Andrea looked around her as she drove her convertible up the long paved driveway. She was pleased that the weather was nice today. She liked to put the top down in her car and the feeling of the breeze through her lustrous wavy chestnut locks.
Andrea got out of the car and collected her bag from the backseat. She looked at the house and couldn’t stop herself from commenting, “What a pile of bricks.” The word house did not do the building justice. It was a mansion, a real one, not the so-called McMansions that were springing up in the suburbs these days.
Veronica Dixon-Thompson came from money, a lot of it. She was an only child and had inherited her father’s many millions when he had passed away a few years earlier. She didn’t live in Clarkstown itself, but had this estate a few kilometers away, she was effectively still under the town’s boundaries and so was therefore considered a Clarkstown resident and she paid rates to the Clarkstown council.
Andrea looked at the long sausage bag beside her. What she had said to Noel Preston was true. She did not often pay house calls. The only official one she could remember making was a job at the local high school to deal with two bullies on school grounds. She had also visited the house of her friends Michael and Polly Walker to spank the young couple, but that wasn’t an actual job and no money had changed hands. Andrea’s receptionist had also ‘babysat’ Trent Neilsen one night, but that hadn’t involved Andrea herself, although the job was booked through the shop and largely treated as shop business.
One advantage working at her shop and from her parlour for Andrea was the availability of implements. It was very rare for a Spank Shop spanking to be entirely given with the hand. Andrea and her employees of Gabrielle and Kimberley Kennedy nearly always supplemented the hand with something else. In her parlour Andrea kept a large cupboard full of paddles, straps, canes, hairbrushes and all manner of things that could be effectively used on a naughty bottom.
Not being at the shop with its ‘chamber of horrors’, as some customers referred to Andrea’s cupboard, meant she had had to select things to bring with her. The bulging hold all beside her contained two hairbrushes, a selection of paddles and straps, and assorted other delights. Andrea knew that Veronica had attended a strict girls only boarding school, so had assumed with that knowledge that she may know something about the slipper and the cane. She had packed both.
Andrea had no problems with the slipper, she found it a highly useful and effective implement. The fact that it had been used in schools and homes was something she liked about it. In fact the very first spanking she had administered at the Spank Shop had featured the slipper. The cane was a different matter. Andrea was not keen on them and rarely used them, except for serious offences. Veronica however had been raised traditionally at boarding school and Andrea found it hard to believe that the cane had not been in use there and the woman was a serial offender down at the club. If six of the best across her spoilt haughty backside didn’t make her mend her ways, nothing would.
Andrea had also packed her clasp knife. She doubted she would feel the need to switch Ms Dixon-Thompson, however if she did, the estate no doubt had trees to provide a nice whippy switch, and the knife was there to cut and peel one for use on the naughty bottom and legs.
Andrea looked at the imposing door to the mansion and pressed the bell. She heard it ring inside, and then the door swung open and she was greeted by a tall, distinguished looking man in an immaculate suit.
“Yes?” he asked her.
Oh my God! Ran through Andrea’s head. She has an actual real life butler! “I’m here to see Ms Dixon-Thompson.”
“And you are?” the butler inquired, not moving an inch.
“Andrea Mahoney,” she answered, producing a business card from her purse and handing it over, briefly hoping she hadn’t accidentally managed to get one of the ones Kimberley had printed up, listing the girl herself as a ‘discipline consultant’. She’d tanned the receptionist’s hide for that stunt and if she was embarrassed by one of those cards young Kimberley Susan would be having an encounter with the cane she had packed in the bag beside her when she got back to the shop.
He had better not tell me to go through the tradesperson’s entrance Andrea thought as she watched the butler read the business card impassively.
“Very good ma’am,” he said, and stepped inside, inviting her. “Please come in. I will fetch Ms Dixon-Thompson for you. You may leave your bag here.”
“Oh no, I’m going to need that,” Andrea said with a smile as she stepped into the vast house’s entrance hall.
She waited there while the butler went to get Veronica and studied the place. It was enormous. Her parlour would have fitted into this entrance hall. She could see a grand sweeping staircase leading to the second story. This was what real money looked like.
“Andrea!” Veronica appeared by the butler’s side and greeted the tall, willowy disciplinarian warmly.
The wealthy woman was wearing a freshly pressed white tennis dress. She dabbed at a spot of perspiration on her brow with a pocket handkerchief. “I was just having a hit,” she explained. “It’s a lovely morning, so I thought we could take tea outside near the court.”
Andrea nodded her agreement and followed the lady through the house out to a pleasant sun dappled paved courtyard from which the neatly manicured grass tennis court could be seen. A ball machine had been set up on one side of the court and the yellow balls lay scattered across it on both sides of the net.
Veronica seated herself and motioned to Andrea to do the same. The ladies had barely sat before a uniformed maid appeared with a fully laden tea tray. She set it down in front of the ladies, inquired as to how Andrea liked her tea and poured and prepared a steaming cup for her.
Andrea blew on her tea to cool it, took a sip and then looked at the lady seated across from her, also enjoying her tea. Andrea was surprised. She had not expected Veronica to be so welcoming. She had arrived fully prepared for a fight. Veronica was the first to speak.
“Noel tells me that he wants me spanked for how I behaved at the club on the weekend.”
“To be honest, Veronica, Noel was all for throwing you out of the club,” Andrea said.
Veronica stared at her over the rim of her teacup. “Really? Over my little tantrum?”
“It wasn’t just the one tantrum. That was the third time you’ve broken the door,” Andrea pointed out.
“I replace them,” Veronica defended herself.
“Yes,” Andrea conceded. “However if you controlled your temper you wouldn’t have to do that in the first place. It’s not just the breakages, it’s the example it sets. The kids see it and think it’s acceptable. It’s bad enough that they see professionals behaving like two year olds and getting away with it, without senior club members also doing it.”
“Oh piffle!” Veronica said dismissively. “I saw plenty doing it when I was a junior. You need to have a bit of passion for the game.”
“If I behaved like that I got a smacked bottom,” Andrea countered, remembering an incident as a junior player where she had given her father an earful after losing a hard fought encounter. She had been marched straight home, had her skirt lifted and her panties removed, before being turned over her father’s knee and having a long discussion with the flat of his hand and the back of her mother’s hairbrush. She had been sent to her room to think on things and told that if she continued to behave that way then the tennis would stop right there and then.
“My parents didn’t believe in corporal punishment,” Veronica said, biting into a cupcake.
“Oh?” Andrea asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes,” Veronica answered. “Mummy was very liberal and rather bohemian. Daddy got the cane a lot at school and hated it. He vowed that I wouldn’t be raised that way.”
“So you were never spanked?”
“Not really. Nanny smacked me sometimes when I was little, but I was packed off to school when I was six.”
“Your school didn’t use spanking?” Andrea asked, surprised by the information.
“Oh too jolly right they did!” Veronica said vehemently.
“So you were spanked at school?” Andrea pressed.
“Once. Matron slippered me.”
“Good for her!”
Veronica chuckled, “Not really. I told Daddy and she was sacked. No one else ever dared do it again, not even the head girl, and I know for a fact one of them loathed me because I could beat her on court.”
It was as Andrea had thought. Veronica had been raised as her father’s princess and the man’s influence and wealth had ensured that she was never properly corrected for her excessive behaviour.
“Yet, you’ve agreed to be spanked by me,” Andrea said, pushing an errant lock of chestnut hair behind an ear.
“I agreed to meet with you here, Andrea,” Veronica admitted. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“The agreement I have with the club, of which I am a committee member, is that I give you a good, old fashioned spanking and hopefully the memory of that will ensure that you think twice before another on court tantrum.”
“Now even you must realize how ridiculous that sounds,” Veronica scoffed.
“I seem to recall that Marta Helmsley had much the same view,” Andrea said mildly, sipping tea.
“Marta Helmsley?” Veronica asked, sitting forward in her chair. “THE Marta Helmsley? The fifteen-year-old sensation on the professional tour? You spanked Marta Helmsley?”
Andrea had to hold back laughter. “You were away at the time, Veronica. You may remember that Marta’s aunt and coach; Melanie, was the tennis pro in residence at the club for a time before she travelled with Marta on the circuit?”
“Yes,” Veronica replied. “How did you come to spank Marta, though?”
Andrea thought about how to explain the incident. “Marta was at the time quite arrogant and she made a bet that I couldn’t take a game off her in two sets. If I could she would present herself at the shop for a spanking. I managed to win a game and she kept her end of the deal up. She learned a lot over my lap and also Kim’s and her aunt’s that afternoon. I believe she’s better for the experience.”
Veronica digested the information and then said with a wince, “Spankings hurt Andrea.”
Andrea laughed, “That is rather the point of them, dear. They teach you a lesson. With someone like yourself the memory of being humiliatingly draped over my lap while your botty is soundly smacked is probably going to redouble your efforts not to repeat the behaviour that got you into that position in the first place.”
“That and my stinging posterior,” Veronica added.
“That goes away in a day or two. The embarrassment takes a lot longer.”
“Couldn’t we just say you did it?” Veronica wheedled. “I’ll pay you, I’ll even pay extra. This has given me a great fright, and I’ll try to keep my temper from now on.”
“I’ve heard similar words from many a naughty boy or girl, they rarely keep the promise without a very tangible reminder of what happens if they break it. I simply don’t work that way Veronica. What you’re proposing is deceit and I won’t be a party to that. I will spank you and you will pay me for it and you will pay extra, too. I very rarely make house calls and I’ve had to turn away other business to drive out here and do this without causing undue embarrassment to you.”
Veronica’s mouth opened and closed like a surprised goldfish. She finally managed to ask, “What happens if I refuse?”
“I’ll go to Noel. He’ll call another meeting to decide whether or not to expel you from the club. I voted no last time. I won’t do that again.”
“It’s not the only club in the area,” Veronica said defiantly, setting her cup on its saucer with a firm click.
“That’s true,” Andrea allowed. “It’s the closest, though. I daresay Noel will send word to the other nearby clubs informing them of your behaviour, if they don’t know about it already. That’s one of the problems with tennis, you can’t play it on your own.”
Veronica frowned. The tall, elegant woman sitting across from her, serenely sipping tea really had her over a barrel. The Clarkstown club was the best local one and it was the most convenient. Her money had actually paid for some of its excellent facilities. The pro who worked there now was her personal tennis coach and also liked the club. She didn’t want to leave it, but the only alternative was to let Andrea spank her.
The wealthy woman had been telling the truth to Andrea she had never been properly spanked. She got a few half remembered smacks from her nanny as a small child and there were those whacks with the slipper from the matron at school. Veronica could still remember wriggling off the woman’s lap, holding her recently slapped bottom under her school skirt and panties and screaming at her, “I’m telling Daddy!” It was a threat she had made good on and her father had suggested to the school’s headmistress that she may want to consider terminating the woman’s employment at the school if she ever wanted to see another cent of his money there.
Andrea simply sat back and watched Veronica wrestle with her feelings and the decision she had to make. Ms Dixon-Thompson was far from the first adult Andrea had dealt with who had virtually no experience of corporal punishment. It was an all too familiar story these days. Andrea did hope that Veronica agreed to the spanking. She felt the woman was a good tennis player, but just needed someone to tell her no and something to make her listen to the advice. The memory of a well-smacked bottom often did just that in the professional disciplinarian’s experience.
“Will it hurt?” Veronica asked in a small voice.
“Yes, it will,” Andrea replied. “It wouldn’t be much of a spanking if it didn’t, would it?”
“I suppose not,” Veronica muttered at her the toes of her expensive tennis shoes. “When do you want to do it?”
Andrea shrugged. “No time like the present.”
“I’ve been giving that some thought,” Andrea said, keeping her voice light in an attempt to make Veronica feel a little more relaxed about the whole thing. “How do you feel about an on court spanking?”
“The tennis court?” Veronica asked, looking at the manicured green grass.
‘Yes!” Andrea said brightly. “It’s perfect. This all came about as the result of your passion for tennis, Veronica. The red of your bottom will contrast so nicely with the green of the grass, too.”
Veronica had to swallow hard, in her interactions with Andrea at the tennis club she had never seen this side of the composed pretty woman, for all that she knew she ran a business that specialized in handing out spankings to naughty rear ends. “What about the staff?”
“Well, I thought about that, too,” Andrea answered. “If we do it inside, they’re going to hear, they may even see. Out here we lessen the chances of it.”
Veronica let out a defeated sigh. “You’re right. How do we do this, Andrea?”
“Oh aren’t you the eager bunny all of a sudden?” Andrea giggled. She reached into her bag, and removed a clipboard with a form attached and a pen, and placed it on the table in front of Veronica.
“What’s that?” Veronica asked, frowning and reaching for her reading glasses to examine the document in more detail.
“It’s a release. It stops me from getting sued for assault. I require all adults to sign them.”
“So, if I don’t sign this, you won’t spank me?” Veronica pressed.
Andrea shook her head. “No I won’t, however I will be informing the club that you refused to sign it and moves will be taken to expel you.”
“Yes, yes,” Veronica sighed, looking over the form, pen in hand.
“Once you sign that, dear, the relationship between us will change until you’ve had your botty smacked properly, too.”
“Oh?” Veronica asked, an eyebrow raising over the rim of her glasses.
“I’m not just Andrea from the tennis club anymore. I’m Miss, ma’am or if you’re comfortable with it, Aunty.”
Veronica stopped halfway through signing and said, “I beg your pardon?”
“That should be I beg your pardon, Miss Andrea?” the tall disciplinarian corrected her.
Veronica completed her signature and handed the form back to Andrea, searching her face for any indication that what she had just said was some sort of joke, there was none.
“You’re serious?” she asked.
“Deadly, and I’ll let that one pass, but if it is repeated you get a smack.”
Veronica swallowed hard and watched as the clipboard was replaced back in the bag. Was there any way out of this now that wouldn’t result in expulsion from the club?
“We need to clean the court up, Ronnie,” Andrea said, standing up and brushing her dark skirt off.
Ronnie? Veronica thought. No one has called me Ronnie since I was eight years old. How does this woman know how to make me feel like I’m a little girl? She didn’t say anything though, and followed Andrea onto the court, helping her collect the tennis balls strewn across the soft green surface and putting the ball machine to one side.
Veronica watched as Andrea picked up one of the chairs that was on one side of the court, which she used to rest during training sessions, and were also used by her coach to observe her and suggest corrections to her shots and service action, and placed it in the middle of one half of the court.
Andrea tested the chair to see how sturdy it was. Veronica was a fit lady and would no doubt make quite a fuss over her lap. It wouldn’t do to have the chair collapse halfway through the punishment. That would not only be humiliating for both of them it could possibly cause one of them an injury.
Once seated Andrea smoothed her skirt over her lap and crooked a finger at Veronica. “Over here to Aunty, sweetheart.”
Veronica stared at the attractive chestnut haired woman seated on the court and felt a shiver run through her. She really did feel like a naughty little girl about to be punished by an older female authority figure for some childish misdeed. She went to Andrea on suddenly rubbery legs.
Andrea smiled up at the aristocratic woman in her tennis whites and said gently, “Well, our temper has gotten us into a mess, hasn’t it?”
Veronica took a deep shuddering breath and answered haltingly, “Yes, Miss.”
Andrea placed her hands on Veronica’s hips and turned her slowly, so that the other woman’s back was facing her. She lifted the pleated tennis dress and used a safety pin to hold it in place.
Veronica frowned. No one had said anything about being undressed for this. At least it was only the bottom of her dress, though.
“Naughty girls who throw tantrums get their botties spanked over Aunty’s lap,” Andrea continued, then asked. “You don’t need to go potty do you, Ronnie?”
Oh God! Veronica thought. Could she be any more embarrassing? Cheeks flaming, she answered, “No ma’am.”
“Hmmmm,” Andrea said through her pursed lips. “I do hope you’re telling the truth, sweetness. I will be most displeased if you have an accident over my lap and wet my skirt. Now let’s just get these pretty while panties down…”
“What?” Veronica blurted out. The dress was bad enough, but her panties as well? No way!
“I think what you meant to say was what Miss Andrea?” Andrea said, accompanying her name with a stinging slap to Veronica’s bare thigh, which made her squeal and dance on the spot as a bright red handprint bloomed on the tanned flesh. “A spanking simply isn’t a spanking unless it’s done on a bare bottom. Naughty little girls who throw tantrums and racquets when they lose do not get to keep their panties on during a childish smack bottom.”
Silently fuming and remembering that she had agreed to this, Veronica allowed Andrea to slide her underwear down her legs and stepped out of them. Andrea hung them up on the handle of the net winder. Andrea was pleased to see that because she had been practicing earlier Veronica had already tied her long black hair into a ponytail. It saved Andrea herself from having to do it to ensure that Veronica wouldn’t make a mess of it during her spanking.
“Turn around,” Andrea ordered, giving the pristine white cheeks a gentle slap, which still made Veronica jump a little. Andrea bent and untied the brunette’s shoes and asked her to step out of them, putting them aside, she now only had a pair of white sockettes on her feet. Andrea knew that Veronica would kick, and while she doubted the tightly tied tennis shoes would fly off, she didn’t want an errant to foot to accidentally connect with her. It hurt much less if she was only wearing socks. Veronica wondered why she had her shoes removed, but didn’t want to ask questions. She doubted she’d like the answer.
“Now let’s get you around by the side of my knee,” Andrea said to Veronica, placing her hands around the woman’s wrists and moving her into position.
Veronica stood there helplessly looking down at Andrea’s lap. She had only ever witnessed one over the knee spanking in her life. Her father’s money had ensured that she was made a prefect and later head girl in her final year at school. The prefects and the head girl were allowed to administer or order other girls slippered for various infractions. Veronica had given a couple as a prefect, but didn’t really have much of a technique or the heart for it. Generally she had asked other prefects or the head girl to do it, and when she was head girl herself she had asked the girls she knew were quite good at slippering to administer the punishments. Generally it was done on the seat of the panties, with the girl bending over, but one prefect had insisted on giving the slipper with the offender draped across her lap, apparently that was how she was spanked at home and that was the only way to do it according to her.
“Over you get,” Andrea ordered cheerfully, patting her lap.
Veronica just stared at the other woman’s skirt, her mouth moving soundlessly, and the realization that she was going to be spanked for the first time in her life suddenly hit her and she started to cry.
“Oh dear,” Andrea said kindly. “This is all new to you, isn’t it, darling?”
Without waiting for an answer Andrea took hold of one of Veronica’s wrists and put a hand on the small of her back, tipping her up and guiding her over the lap. Veronica stumbled forward, and found herself in a graceless tangle of arms and legs over the disciplinarian’s firm thighs. Andrea put an arm around Veronica’s rib cage and shifted her across so that the bottom was centred in the middle of her lap.
“There we are,” Andrea announced, a hand gently rubbing Veronica’s buttocks to relax them a little.
Andrea looked down at the bottom nestled in her lap and studied it. All of the tennis that Veronica played, along with regular workouts in the impressively equipped home gym that Andrea had briefly seen in her trip through the house out to the tennis court and daily swims in the mansions heated pool, had given Veronica Dixon-Thompson a firm, toned body. Her posterior was firm and round. Despite the fact that Veronica would probably protest loudly to the contrary it was going to take a very sound and thorough spanking to make a memorable impression on those tight cheeks.
Andrea raised her hand, tightened her grip a little around Veronica’s waist, and let it drop. The first spank fell loudly across the centre of one cheek and that area immediately filled out with a pink handprint on the snow-white hemisphere. Veronica had just felt that blow and jumped when the second one landed on the opposite side. Before Veronica could protest Andrea had slapped the sit spots smartly and then delivered two more high on the buttocks.
“Oh my God!” Veronica yelled. “That hurts!”
“It is the point of a spanking,” Andrea informed the aristocratic brunette squirming around on her lap as she continued to spank briskly, keeping a close eye on the rapidly reddening globes. “They wouldn’t be much of a punishment if they didn’t hurt, young lady.”
Veronica winced as more stinging smacks rang out loudly, mingling with the birdsong of the inhabitants of the trees that surrounded the tennis court. She waved her legs and squealed as Andrea set fire to her creamy white upper thighs. Tears were falling fat and frequent from her eyes and her legs waved around as she tried to find a way to ease the horrid burning sting of the spanking.
Andrea smiled at Veronica’s histrionics. Despite the firm muscle tone of her buttocks and legs, Veronica was finding the spanking quite unpleasant and hard to accept. It didn’t surprise Andrea, even those who had been raised with spankings created quite a fuss when they found themselves back over a punitive lap and a punishing palm. There was also the humiliation factor.
Veronica was very red downstairs, she had coloured up wonderfully. Andrea idly wondered if she should think about suggesting that the woman add spanking to her fitness regime. She’d always found that whether administering or receiving, a good hard spanking burned the calories and was the equal of any solid gym workout.
The flaming buttocks flared and bounded and Veronica opened her mouth and roared. The sensation of Andrea’s hard experienced palm landing on her burning bottom again and again was rather like having a tennis ball repeatedly served into the backside. She wondered if this was how the juniors she’d had slippered felt.
Veronica was unaware that Andrea had brought the spanking to its crescendo and stopped the slapping. Andrea let the woman lay over her lap and bawl for a moment or two, before bending and whispering, “The hand spanking is over, sweetheart.”
When the words registered, Veronica sighed in relief, “Oh thank God for that! I don’t think I could have taken much more.”
Andrea laughed musically, “You can and you will.”
Veronica felt firm, sure hands around her waist, gently coaxing her upright. Once she was on her feet her hands immediately tried to go to her roasting rump, but they were held to her side by Andrea.
“Freshly spanked little girls do not get to rub their bottoms unless Aunty gives permission,” Andrea said sternly. “I did not go to all the trouble and effort of bringing your bottom to the boil to simply have you rub it all away.”
“Bbut it hurts, ma’am!” Veronica blubbered.
“As I told you darling, it is meant to. We want that heat to settle in and create a lovely rosy glow.”
Veronica blinked tears away and wanted to stamp her foot. Andrea was being mean, her bottom was hot and sore and she just wanted to rub it, she didn’t want a warm rosy glow and she didn’t think it was lovely. A dangerous light in Andrea’s emerald eyes told her that this would be a very bad idea.
“I’ll let you rub on your way to the corner,” Andrea conceded graciously.
“Corner?” Veronica asked, looking around the open expanse of the tennis court and the lawn beyond it.
Andrea laughed, “Oh silly me! I’m so used to working in enclosed spaces. Maybe you can take up a corner of the court, darling.”
Veronica sighed and minced to one corner of the court, furiously rubbing her burning buttocks as she did so. Andrea still sitting in her chair in the centre of the tennis court had to admit seeing flashes of red between rubs was actually rather cute. She waited until Veronica was where she had been directed to be and then ordered, “Hands on head, please dear.”
Veronica stiffened and it looked as if she were going to disobey Andrea, but then obviously thought better of it, instead sighing and meekly lacing her hands atop her raven black tresses.
Andrea rose from her chair on the court and went back to the table where morning tea had been set up. She felt the teapot to test the temperature and was happy to discover that it was still pleasantly warm, she poured herself a fresh cup of tea and sat down on the lawn chair, crossed her legs and sipped it blissfully as she treated herself to a view of the bottom she had so diligently heated over her lap. She had been correct, the red of Veronica’s rear end contrasted wonderfully with the verdant green of the traditional grass tennis court.
Putting her tea down Andrea rummaged in her bag and eventually she located the item she had been searching for. A large man’s bedroom slipper. The item had obviously been initially designed for use when walking about at home before dressing for the day or in the evening prior to retiring for the night, it had also come in a pair. This particular slipper had never been used in it’s intended for manner. There was a mate to it, that resided in the parlour of Andrea’s shop that was generally utilized by Gabrielle Kennedy in her capacity as a part time spanker for Andrea.
Whoever the slipper had originally been intended for was a man with very large feet. It was broad and constructed of sturdy material. The sole, which Andrea was most interested in, was hard, but supple leather. It created wonderfully animated reactions when applied to a tender derriere and Andrea felt certain that it would make a deep impression on Ms Dixon-Thompson’s pampered and previously unspanked hindquarters.
Andrea finished her tea and resumed her seat in the centre of the court. “Ronnie,” she called softly.
Veronica sniffled and blew a steady breath out through her mouth, she ground her teeth at the use of the childish diminutive of her name and said, “Yes, Miss Andrea.”
“You may remove your hands from your head, do NOT rub your bottom, and come to me, please dear.”
Veronica took her hands off her head, kept them away from her still simmering back end with an obvious effort and walked stiffly to a smiling Andrea. She wondered what was going on. She had been spanked and humiliated, wasn’t that it? Maybe Andrea wanted to scold her some more.
As she approached Andrea, she saw something on the woman’s lap. It was an incongruous sight and it made the wealthy tennis enthusiast frown. Andrea had placed a large man’s bedroom slipper on her lap. It was out of place here. Veronica knew about the other use for slippers. She may have only ever experienced it briefly, but she had used one occasionally and she had witnessed a number of prefects, head girls, teachers and matrons use them. Matron’s slipper at school had been about the same size as the one resting on Andrea’s lap and it was something that every student, except Veronica, secure in the knowledge that her father’s money kept it away from her tender situpon, feared. More than one girl had been known to burst into tears on hearing the news that they had earned themselves a meeting with matron’s slipper.
“Ummm…Miss Andrea,” Veronica began politely. “Why do you have a slipper?”
“What are slippers usually used for, sweetheart?” Andrea replied teasingly, answering Veronica’s question with one of her own.
“Walking?” Veronica hazarded a guess, knowing she was wrong.
Andrea picked up the slipper and regarded it curiously. “That’s true, darling. However I don’t think this one would fit me and I only have the one. That would look funny, wouldn’t it? Aunty hopping about with one too big slipper?”
Veronica resisted the urge to shake her head. Where and how did Andrea get so good at this? She was making Veronica, a grown independent woman in her thirties, feel like a six-year-old brat, called to account for breaking Mummy’s china or a favourite lamp.
“I think you know what Aunty uses this slipper for, sweetheart. Don’t you?”
Veronica felt fresh tears well up in her eyes as she stammered, “Iit’s fuhfor sp..spanking, ma’am.”
“Yes, it is sweetness,” Andrea informed her solemnly. “Now whose tantrum throwing bottom do you think Mrs Slipper is going to spank this fine morning?”
“Muhmine!” Veronica sobbed, unable to stop clutching her bottom with her hands as if they may protect it.
“Aren’t we a clever little girl?” Andrea exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Now why don’t you climb back over Aunty’s lap, so she can spank that bottom up good and hot?”
Veronica looked at Andrea’s lap and the slipper in her hand and she felt the icy fingers of fear climb slowly through her tingling buttocks. “I dudon’t wwant to be spu..spanked, Aunty,” she protested slowly.
Andrea’s eyes softened and her tone became sympathetic. “I know you don’t sweetheart, but I have to. The other people at the tennis club didn’t want their door broken, but you didn’t give them a chance to say anything, did you?”
“No, ma’am,” Veronica whispered, dropping her head.
“No, you didn’t. You just threw a tantrum because Gabrielle and Kimberley beat you and Desiree. You didn’t see Desiree stamping her feet and throwing her racquet about, did you?”
“No, you did not. Speaking of Desiree, do you think she deserved the insults you screamed at her?”
Veronica’s cheeks coloured as she remembered the angry tirade she had leveled at Desiree after the loss to the Kennedy women, and she murmured, “No, ma’am.”
“Next time you go to the club you will be apologizing to Mrs Price, I can promise you that Veronica Marie!” Andrea told her.
Veronica’s blush deepened as Andrea used both her first names and she briefly wondered how she’d discovered her middle name. “But I’ve already been spanked,” she argued.
To her surprise Andrea let out a deep rich laugh, “Oh no my sweet, that was just the warm up. Very few people escape my lap with a mere hand spanking. Come on, back over you get, we’ve wasted enough time with this verbal volley.”
Fresh tears spilling from her eyes, Veronica lowered herself back over the waiting lap. Andrea settled her into position so that her bottom was pointing up at the cloudless sky and she was dangling rather precariously over Andrea’s crossed legs, with her body creating a pyramid, her still ruddy buttocks being its apex.
Andrea drew the slipper slowly and teasingly over Veronica’s scorched hillocks savouring the woman’s trembling as she anticipated the stinging pain that was to come. The slipper’s supple leather sole left a trail of pimpling gooseflesh in its wake. Andrea stroked the raised sitmedown in her lap with her hand and tested the temperature. “Oh, they’re still simmering nicely, Veronica,” she said, and the brunette whimpered. “We don’t want them warm, though darling. We want them sizzling, steaming hot, and I think Mrs Slipper is just the lady who can light that fire.”
The slipper rose in the air and landed with a loud crack across Veronica’s upper left thigh. Veronica shrieked and kicked convulsively, but was held firmly in position over Andrea’s knee. The second smack was on the sit spot and got an even louder and more animated reaction. Andrea placed the next one on Veronica’s left crown and the woman wriggled vigorously. The fourth slap hit the upper part of the buttock and a loud sob was wrenched from Veronica.
Once one side had been thoroughly scalded, Andrea set to making the right half match. Veronica had never thought it would hurt this much. She struggled mightily, but Andrea had a vise like grip and she had made it clear that Veronica would not be going anywhere until she had decided it was time to stop the Red Bottom Express.
Veronica wailed and roared as Andrea gave her a memorable slippering. The legs scissor kicked and waved, her slender ankles crossed and uncrossed madly in a futile attempt to do something about the bonfires that Andrea stoked in her hindquarters.
“You said you were only slippered the once at school, Ronnie?” Andrea asked conversationally, landing two more stinging swipes.
“Yes, ma’am!” Veronica bawled.
“I gather that was nothing like this particular encounter?” Andrea probed, giving the upper thighs a searing volley.
“No, ma’am! Matron smacked the seat of my skirt.”
“The seat of your skirt?” Andrea echoed, sizzling Veronica’s sit spots. “Why would she do that? It was your bottom that had been naughty, not your skirt.”
“I don’t know, Miss. It hurttsssss!”
“Of course it does, you silly girl. That’s the general point of a spanking, I thought you would have worked that out by now. How many did you get?”
Veronica tried to swallow saliva and sniffed, she could see that her tears and drool had made a small puddle on the grass under her face. “I don’t know, Miss Andrea. I got off her lap and ran away.”
“Well, this is one lap you are not getting off, young lady!” Andrea promised and unleashed the slipper for another blazing round of spanks.
Andrea felt Veronica’s pulsating red orbs with the back of her hand and quickly removed it. She’d rarely had a hotter bottom over her lap. She could have instructed Veronica’s maid to put the kettle on her mistresses stove hot backside and the water would have boiled in no time at all. Veronica simply lay over Andrea’s lap, sobbing and sniffling.
Andrea put her arms around Veronica’s waist and gently coaxed her to her feet. “Come on, sweetness. There we go. Up you get. That’s a girl, we’re almost done, darling.”
She led Veronica to the table in the courtyard adjacent to the tennis court and stood her in front of her. Veronica looked a picture. Her eyes were red and swollen, tears still trickling down her face, her chin and cheeks were covered with a sticky mixture of tears, saliva and mucus. A few strands of midnight black hair had come free of the pony tail and were plastered to Veronica’s cheeks. “Oh my!” Andrea exclaimed kindly. “Aren’t we a sight?” she plucked some tissues from a nearby holder and began to clean Veronica’s face up. “You go ahead and rub those stinging little cheeks, darling, whilst Aunty cleans you up a little. Blow,” she instructed holding the tissues to Veronica’s nose and she blew noisily into them.
Andrea sat down and turned Veronica so that she had en eyeful of those shimmering scarlet cheeks, ordered her, “Hands on head, don’t move until Aunty says so, Miss Tantrum Racquet Thrower.”
Veronica swallowed and tried to get her breathing under control. She reluctantly moved her soothing hands away from her ravaged rear, but to her credit did so and placed them atop her sweat sodden tresses.
Andrea used some fresh tissues to wipe perspiration from her wrists, neck and brow. Spanking was hard work at the best of times, but even more so when the occupant of your lap was a fit, fully grown woman who struggled vigorously and it was a sunny spring morning.
Slowly the fires died down a little and the feeling in Veronica’s posterior abated to an aching throb. She doubted she would do much sitting down for the remainder of the day.
Keeping an eye on the red-bottomed lady in front of her, Andrea reached down into her carryall again. This time she withdrew a long slender length of pliable wood, it had a crook at the end of it. Andrea ran the rod through her fingers, shivering a little at the feel of it on her fingertips. Andrea did not often use the cane. In this case she felt it was deserved and somehow appropriate for Veronica.
The woman was the product of a strict boarding school education. The sort of place that had made the style of correctional implement Andrea now held in her hand famous and feared. It seemed wrong to Andrea that Veronica, who clearly had a temper and was openly contemptuous of authority, had escaped from her boarding school without at least one encounter with the old fashioned rod of correction.
“Turn around, please, Veronica Marie,” Andrea said.
The use of both her first names bothered Veronica. She had assumed with the application of the slipper once Andrea had given herself a good eyeful of her tomato red hemispheres she would conclude the discipline session. Veronica herself felt that she had more than paid for a thousand on court outbursts and five hundred blasted clubhouse doors over the stern disciplinarian’s lap, but being called Veronica Marie in those scolding terms did not bode well for her very tender derriere. She turned slowly to face Andrea.
What Veronica saw in Andrea’s hands made her go weak at the knees and she very nearly wet herself. “The expression on your face, Veronica Marie,” Andrea said calmly, flexing the cane in her hands. “Tells me that you know not only what the cane is, but what it is used for.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Veronica whimpered. Veronica had of course never been caned. She had seen the results of a caning in the dorm room after two of her classmates had been sent to the Head for a ‘sixer’ as the girls referred to a caning, it was immaterial whether they actually received six strokes or not. The implement left ugly swollen ridges that remained for a number of days and created black and blue ‘tramlines’ on the recipient’s bottom. One girl had infamously been caned publicly at assembly before being expelled. One of Veronica’s friends had scornfully remarked that at least she got it over her skirt and panties. When you bent over in the Headmistresses office for the cane, your skirt was lifted and pinned out of the way, so you only had the protection of your underpants and there was a story that one girl had been discovered wearing non regulation knickers so they’d been removed and she’d received her strokes on the bare bottom.
“Have you ever seen one in action before, Veronica?” Andrea asked, continuing to flex the pliable length of rattan in her fingers.
Veronica took a deep breath and whispered, “Yes, ma’am.”
“It may seem a little harsh to you, dear,” Andrea explained. “All the colour has drained from your face, so I know you’re quite nervous. I don’t want any more exhibits like last week down at the club. I especially don’t want any more broken doors caused by racquets hurled in unsportswomenlike rages. I know you have the threat of expulsion from the club hanging over your head, but you don’t seem to really have taken that very seriously. Maybe next time you’re tempted to lose your temper you’ll remember what this caning felt like and hold your tongue. Bend over the net, please.”
Walking stiffly from a combination of pain from the earlier spanking and genuine fear of the caning, Veronica made her way to the centre of the court and bent over the net. She could just about touch the ground with the tips of her fingers.
Cane in hand, Andrea followed her. She watched Veronica bend at the waist and over the net and marveled briefly at the other woman’s flexibility. Andrea was by no means out of shape, but Veronica had done that easily. Maybe there was something to those pilates and yoga sessions she did.
Andrea took up position behind Veronica and gauged her distance. “Miss?” Veronica’s voice interrupted politely.
“Yes, dear?” the cane twitched in Andrea’s hand.
“How many?” the bent over woman inquired weakly.
Andrea considered the question and answered, “As we’ve been very traditional today I think we’ll stick to that theme and go with six. I’ll count, but if you break position I won’t accept that stroke as valid and you’ll get extras, understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Veronica said in an unsteady voice and tried to steel herself for the upcoming ordeal.
Andrea took a few gentle practice swings and then tapped Veronica’s glowing rear lightly twice just to make sure her distance was correct and said loudly, “Bottom up nice and high for Aunty,” before bringing the cane sweeping down.
BANG! Veronica jumped and screamed, but held position.
“One,” Andrea counted.
The cane whistled as it cut through air and then made a loud crack as it contacted Veronica’s bottom right on her sit spot. Veronica let out a shriek, tears sprang to her eyes and her knees buckled, but she quickly straightened them, and Andrea said firmly, “Two.”
The third stroke was placed above the first two and higher on the upthrust buttocks. Veronica screeched in agony. She had not thought anything could hurt as much as the slipper, but she was being proven wrong. How could anyone take more than six with this thing? She had renewed respect for the girls at school who claimed to have received eight or nine with the cane.
Number four landed in between one and two and was excruciating. Veronica almost stood up, but remembered Andrea’s words when she began this torture and managed to hold position, she was breathing very deeply though. Andrea stood back and wiped a sheen of perspiration from her own brow. There was a real bite to the sun this morning and caning was always hard work. Andrea wanted to make a lasting impression, but there was a skill to delivering a sound caning without going too far and breaking the skin or causing some real damage. The strokes had to be very carefully placed and it took concentration.
“You’re doing well, Veronica,” she praised the weeping woman, draped over the net. “Almost there, buck up and straighten those legs.”
Veronica swallowed her sobs and did her best to do as told. Andrea brought the cane screaming down and number five got a loud howl and a frantic on the spot dance and jiggle from Veronica. Andrea found that rather amusing, but to the woman’s credit she didn’t stand up or put her hands to her fiery hot backside.
“Just one more,” Andrea announced. “This one has to really count.”
The sixth and final stroke was administered so that it bisected the other five. Veronica threw her head back and let out the loudest yell yet. Andrea stood back and examined her handiwork. The last stroke would create the effect of leaving Veronica’s taut buttocks with a pattern that resembled a five-barred country gate when the redness from the spanking faded and the cane bruises flowered.
Andrea dropped the cane and put her arms around Veronica’s waist to prevent her from collapsing over the net. She lifted the weeping woman to her feet and held her in her arms. Letting Veronica rest on her, taking most of her weight, and rubbing her back while gently murmuring in her ear, “Good girl, it’s all over now. You took that well and Aunty is very proud of her big, brave girl.”
Andrea led Veronica to the courtyard and sat on the covered swing chair, drawing Veronica down with her and cradling her in her lap, stroking her hair and rubbing her bottom gently, just soothing her and gentling her down as she blubbered and sobbed into Andrea’s full bosom.
Once Veronica had recovered from the punishment she got herself off Andrea’s lap and let the other woman unpin the back of her dress. She cleaned up her own face and sipped from a glass of water she had poured from the jug that had come out with the other refreshments. Andrea collected her cane from the court and stowed it in her bag, she also retrieved Veronica’s panties and held them out to the other lady. Veronica accepted them with a blush and stuffed them in the pocket of her tennis dress.
“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to show my face at the club now,” Veronica confessed.
“Oh nonsense!” Andrea dismissed the claim. “Only you and I know what went on here this morning, and possibly some of your keener eared staff.”
“I’m sure people at the club know you were coming here to spank me.”
“Oh they’re aware of that,” Andrea admitted. “I do run a spank shop after all, but that’s common knowledge in Clarkstown and you’re far from the only adult I’ve had over my lap. They don’t know any of the details beyond that, though.”
“What about Kim?” Veronica asked. “She does your books, doesn’t she?”
“That’s true, but on this occasion all she knows is that I spanked you and you paid me for it. That is all she needs to know and all she will know, although I have no doubt she’ll try and winkle the gory details out of me. Curiousity is one of her failings.”
“I doubt Desiree is going to want to partner me again,” Veronica sighed, ruefully rubbing her bottom under the pleated white skirt.
“No, possibly not,” Andrea agreed. “I’ve been looking for a regular doubles partner ever since Gabrielle started partnering Kim, maybe we could try that out. You know what I’ll do if you don’t hold up your end of the court.”
“I’d like that, Andrea,” Veronica smiled, holding out her hand to seal the deal.
“Partners!” Andrea said, shaking the hand firmly.
Andrea watched the lob sail over her head and shouted, “Yours!” to Veronica.
The brunette scrambled to get to the ball, it took a high bounce and just evaded her wildly swung racquet.
“That’s point and game!” Stephanie Goldwater announced cheerfully from the other side of the net.
Andrea shook the woman’s hand with a gentle, “Good game.”
Veronica arrived at the net, having retrieved the ball from the back of the court. Stephanie and her partner Danielle Hurst, stepped back and waited for the outburst or a snarled insult and were instead met with an outstretched hand, an unforced, “Well played,” and the offer. “I’ll buy the first round of mojitos at the bar.”