Kimberley mentioned that this was on the way, and after Aunty had some issues with Blogger and Word I finally managed to get this the 43rd Spank Shop adventure here.
Two things that Aunty found alternative uses for.
Well, I didn't use a ruler, but other than that I think JPC has got this largely correct.
Pretty young Clarkstown court assistant Melanie Dartridge padded into her superior’s office; Judge Sandra Thornley, and set a steaming mug of coffee on the older lady’s desk.
Sandra Thornley made no move towards the hot beverage, but continued to study the contents of a document in front of her.
Melanie frowned, that was unlike Judge Thornley. She appreciated her morning cup of coffee and was normally expecting it when Melanie brought it in. The girl checked to make sure Judge Thornley was actually awake, and having confirmed that, prompted, “Your coffee, ma’am.”
The judge looked up and regarded the girl through her soft brown eyes and sighed, “Thank you Mel,” as she reached for the mug and took a sip.
The last time Melanie had come in here and Judge Thornley had been acting like this it was because her delinquent nephew had been busted spraying graffiti. That had resulted in a visit for the young artist to The Spank Shop in town.
A sore bottom had shown him the error of his ways, and he had behaved ever since. If he was backsliding Melanie thought, her mouth setting in a hard line, she’d do her best to see Andrea Mahony, proprietress of The Spank Shop, gave him a tanning he’d remember every time he sat down for the rest of his life. She was fond of her boss and woe betide anyone who upset her unduly.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” Melanie inquired gently.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Sandra replied with a smile, looking at the girl through the haze of steam rising from her cup.
“You just seemed a little distracted. Has Nicholas started graffiting again?” she asked with an edge to her voice.
That thought seemed to amuse Sandra. “No, young Nicholas has been good about that ever since his visit to Aunty Andrea. I think she cured him of that particular habit. This is regarding my property.”
“The investment house?”
“Does it need repairs or something?”
“No, I had it checked before I bought it, it’s my tenants.”
Melanie tried to remember who actually rented the property from the judge. It took her a few moments to access the data in her memory banks, but it came to her. The property was tenanted by two girls in their early twenties. Phoebe who worked as a beauty consultant at the hair salon next to Andrea’s shop, and Bridget, a flight attendant, who due to the nature of her job was only home one week out of every three. Melanie had misgivings when Judge Thornley rented the house to them. She knew Phoebe, and housework was a foreign word to the girl. Bridget was home so rarely and spent a lot of time trying to catch up on sleep that she was unlikely to be able to do much around the house.
“Let me guess,” Melanie said. ‘The place is an absolute mess.”
Sandra blinked and then sipped her coffee. “How did you know?”
“Because I know Feebs, and Bridget’s situation is difficult. If they’re not sticking to the deal just evict them.”
“Ahhh things are so simple in the world of the young,” Sandra teased her assistant.
“No disrespect intended ma’am,” the girl said, “but if they’re not sticking to the rental agreement, and in every one I’ve ever seen keeping the place clean is part of it, why can’t you evict them?”
Sandra cocked her dark head to one side and regarded her young blonde assistant, of whom she was quite fond, and asked, “What do you know about rental agreements, darling? Don’t you still live at home?”
A gentle flush crept into Melanie’s cheeks and she replied softly, “Yes, ma’am, but I want to move out. I think it’s time. I’m studying part time and earning money. I need to strike out on my own.”
“Interesting,” Sandra said. “I have an agreement with Phoebe and Bridget, and it is legal. However before I simply toss them out on the street there is a procedure to be followed. Firstly they have to be given a period of time, then we look at other options, like taking their bond money. A notice of eviction is the last straw, Melanie.”
The girl bit her lip while she tried to recall what she knew of the two tenants. Phoebe was nice and she could be fun, but she was a bit scatter brained. The pretty court assistant doubted that the beauty therapist would have given the rental agreement more than a cursory once over before affixing her signature to the document. She didn’t know Bridget as well, but from memory the girl had simply wanted a place in Clarkstown to stay and wouldn’t have had a lot of time to muck about studying agreements.
“Besides,” Sandra said. “It’s not like Clarkstown is a big rental market. Despite their other failings the girls do pay their rent on time. I doubt I’d have anyone knocking down my door if I did move them out and then I’m paying the mortgage on the place entirely out of my own pocket.”
“I’m still looking for a place,” Melanie reminded her superior.
“I do know that now sweetheart, but I also know what you get paid and you couldn’t afford the rent by yourself.”
Melanie frowned. “What did you mean by a mess?”
Sandra sipped her coffee and sighed. “I don’t think either girl knows what a cleaning implement looks like. The garden is in an awful state. Neighbours have said that the girls have to be reminded to put their bins out otherwise they just let them overflow. They also started to paint the spare bedroom, without my permission, I might add, and left it half done.”
“Do they know about all those conditions on the agreement?” Melanie asked, an idea forming.
“Possibly not,” Sandra allowed. ”What exactly are you getting at?”
“Aunty Andrea,” Melanie said firmly.
“Andie? What does that mean?”
“Threaten to evict them unless they pay a visit to Aunty Andrea. I can almost guarantee that after a discussion over Aunty’s lap they’ll keep the place as neat a new pin.”
A smile crossed Sandra’s face.
“I only just started to sit without wincing the other day,” Melanie admitted with a blush.
Sandra nodded. “I’ll give it some thought. In the mean time can you ring Kimberley Kennedy and see if Andie can hold a spot for a meeting with the girls?”
Kimberley watched Jackson Conway shuffle his way into the parlour where Spank Shop part time employee Maria Sculiatti held court and a smile crossed her face. If there was a Clarkstown boy more deserving of a hot sore bottom than young Jackson Conway then Kimberley didn’t know who he was. If the girl listened closely she could hear an unhappy occupant in Andrea’s parlour howling as the chestnut haired disciplinarian put the three-tailed tawse to her writhing scarlet backside.
Misty Kendall sobbed in a corner of the room, warmed by a merrily crackling fire in the grate, and shifted her weight to try and ease the burn and sting Andrea had placed there with her hand and favourite hairbrush Mrs Ebony.
The blonde receptionist turned to the lady on the other side of her desk, and said with a stunning smile, “Now Mrs Kendall, I’d personally recommend the Mama Mahogany model to make Misty mind her Ps and Qs.”
“Didn’t Andrea just use the ebony one on her?” Fiona asked Kimberley.
“Oh yes,” Kimberley answered. “Mrs Ebony is very popular, but I feel for a girl like Misty, Mama Mahogany would be a good fit.”
Fiona Kendall’s eyes narrowed a little as she focused on the brochure Kimberley had given her. “What about this one, Kim? Mademoiselle Cherry?”
The blonde teenager blushed. “That’s mine, ma’am. She does have quite a fierce sting, but she’s more designed for younger clients, both giving and receiving.”
“And Contessa K?”
“That’s our new line. It’s koa wood. Certainly packs a wallop,” Kimberley said, remembering her own encounter with the hairbrush over Maria’s knee not all that long ago, and rubbing her hindquarters in sympathy for that hot afternoon. “However she’s something Aunty Maria uses and she tends to look after our younger list more often as well.”
“It’s also on the more expensive side,” Fiona sniffed. “Mr Kendall may book in an appointment for me and the Contessa if I spent that much on a hairbrush.”
Kimberley laughed at the joke, at least she thought Mrs Kendall was joking. “Do you want to go ahead with a purchase Mrs Kendall?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, please, Kimberley. I’ll take your advice and get a Mama Mahogany.”
“Oh, excellent. I’ll put the order in now. She’ll keep Misty’s seat nice and toasty warm, I promise.”
“Oh, I am sure of that, Kim,” Fiona said with a smile as her daughter sighed and wished she could soothe her fiery hot bottom. “Misty, go and get changed sweetheart. I’ll just settle up with Kimberley.”
The girl prepared Mrs Kendall’s invoice for her daughter’s spanking and a separate one for the hairbrush and was pushing them across to the client when the phone rang.
Kimberley snatched it up on the second ring and answered efficiently, “Good morning, Spank Shop, Kimberley speaking how may I…oh hi Melanie!”
Fiona Kendall gave Kimberley her credit card and the receptionist accepted payment. The woman took a seat to wait for her daughter.
“Surely Judge Thornley can’t have booked you in for another attitude adjustment,” Kimberley was saying to Melanie. “I thought your bottom was going to literally catch fire last time…Oh it’s not for you, okay. So, not an actual spanking, just a chat, we can do that.”
Redressed and wincing Misty reappeared. At least knowing what was coming she had opted for a pair of loose sweats over her legs, it could have been worse. Some clients wore tight jeans to their spankings and getting them on over a freshly spanked and probably slightly swollen rear end must be excruciating. Kimberley waved the mother and daughter a cheery goodbye and continued her conversation on the phone.
“Who’s it for Mel? Phoebe Tompkins….wait the same Phoebe Tompkins who works next door? Wow! And Bridget Shaughnessy…don’t they share a house? Oh that’s sort of what it’s about, okay. I think I can see an opening. How long do you think you’ll want? That long, huh? No, it’s cool. Aunty Andrea has more time since Aunty Maria started working on the days Mum isn’t in. Will anyone be with the girls? Yeah, definitely you, and maybe Judge Thornley. That’s all in there, Mel. Just let me know if you need to change it or can’t make it. Sweet, see you then.”
“I think an introduction may be in order,” Andrea said as Kimberley served tea to the assembled ladies. “I know Phoebe,” the disciplinarian said, showing off expertly lacquered fingernails as she raised a steaming tea cup to her lips and getting a blush from the pretty brunette seated nervously on the edge of the couch, “but Miss Shaughnessy is new to me.”
The casually dressed redhead looked at Andrea appraisingly and said with a hint of an Irish accent, “It’s Bridget, Ms Mahony.”
“Lovely dear, and I prefer Miss Andrea.”
Bridget accepted a cup of tea from Kimberley with murmured thanks and amended her form of address to Andrea as Miss Andrea.
“Can I ask why we’re here, Miss Andrea?” Phoebe asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking around the room, the cup of tea in front of her forgotten for the moment.
“No one told you?” Andrea asked, her green eyes going to Melanie, who squirmed in her seat.
“Melanie said it was something to do with the house,” Phoebe supplied.
“That it is,” Judge Thornley said in ominous tones from the armchair she occupied by the fire.
“Is this about the paint job in the spare room?” Bridget asked. “I did tell Phoebe that she really should have asked the judge first.”
Andrea nodded. “That’s some of it, Bridget. I believe Judge Thornley has supplied Melanie with an itemized list. Melanie.”
The blonde girl set her cup down on her saucer with a click and picked up a sheet of paper that had been in her lap, she put on a pair of rather professional looking glasses and began to read in an official sounding voice.
“The lawn has not been mowed for at least two months that’s both back and front. Plants and flowers have been watered and are dying, that includes the hanging baskets on the front entrance and it all looks dreadfully unsightly. The shabby look of the house was raised at the recent homeowners meeting…”
“There’s a homeowners meeting?” Phoebe asked.
“Notes are left in the letterbox about it, young lady,” Sandra said. “You’d probably be aware of it if you cleaned your letter box out more than once a week.”
The girl frowned. “I thought that was junk mail. I threw it out.”
“Haven’t we got a ‘no junk mail’ sign somewhere, Feebs?’ Bridget asked. “I’m sure I bought one at the airport one time to get rid of some excess change.”
“Did you put it on the table?” Phoebe asked her housemate.
“Probably,” the flight attendant replied. “You know what I’m like when I get in from an international run.”
“Oh yeah, you’re a zombie for a while.”
Andrea broke in to the girl’s conversation. “Phoebe, if Bridget put the sign on the table why don’t you know where it is?”
“Oh, I can answer that one, Andie,” Sandra said, her lips tightening. “I was on the last inspection my agent did on the house. It is cluttered beyond belief and is barely fit for a human being to occupy.”
Phoebe’s face turned bright red. Housework had never been her strong suit. Probably the only room that wasn’t untidy was Bridget’s, and that was because she only lived at home one week out of every three and just slept in the room and used it to hang her clothes up. The rest of the time Phoebe kept the door closed.
Melanie took a breath and got ready to read the second item on her list. Andrea halted her with an upraised hand. “Yes, I think we get the picture, sweetheart. When did you start wearing glasses? I wasn’t aware you had any vision problems.”
Behind the lenses the blonde’s eyes widened and her face flushed. “I don’t…I didn’t…they look…” she faltered before Andrea smiled at her and then shared it with Sandra Thornley. The glasses were more than likely clear glass and Melanie wore them under the impression that they added both age and professionalism to her carefully cultivated legal eagle image.
“May I ask why we are discussing this here and not at the judge’s offices or even the rental agent’s?” Bridget inquired, sipping tea serenely.
Phoebe made a nervous little murmur and thanked herself that Bridget was here. She was a bundle of nerves and wouldn’t have thought to ask that, although she had a fair idea why this discussion was being conducted in Andrea’s parlour, commonly known as her ‘spanking room’ by many of it’s occupants.
“Phoebe?” Andrea asked, looking at the girl. “Do you need to go to the toilet? You look like you’ve got ants in your pants, sweetie.”
“Yes, please, Aunty,” Phoebe squeaked.
“Kim, can you show Phoebe to the bathroom please?” Andrea asked her receptionist.
Kim nodded and held her hand out to Phoebe. “Come on Feebs, you’ll feel better after you’ve had a tinkle.”
“We’re going to get spanked, aren’t we?” Phoebe asked Kim as she washed her hands after relieving herself.
“Unless Bridgie can talk your way out of it, yes,” the girl said very matter of factly.
“I just thought you didn’t have to do any of that stuff when you were grown up and not living at home,” the brunette said as she rejoined Kim in the bedroom that adjoined the bathroom.
“What you thought elves cleaned the house and mowed the lawn when you were at work or asleep?”
“No, probably not,” Phoebe sighed.
“You haven’t been spanked by Aunty yet, have you?” Kim asked as she led the girl back to the parlour.
Phoebe shook her head.
“It’ll hurt, but she’s nice about it. Hopefully after this you’ll look after the house better and finish the painting in the spare room.”
Bridget was studying a form in front of her when Phoebe resumed her seat beside the redhead on the couch.
“This is entirely legal?” the Irish girl asked.
“Perfectly,” Sandra confirmed.
“If I don’t sign it?”
“I will start proceedings to evict you and Miss Tompkins.”
Bridget’s grip on the pen in her hand tightened and she bit her lip. Phoebe had told her stories about this place and the name itself was slightly intimidating, as was the tall willowy elegant woman with the lustrous mane of chestnut hair and the bewitching emerald eyes seated across from her. She didn’t want to lose the house she shared with Phoebe. It was perfectly situated. It was far enough away from the city and the airport that when she wasn’t working she could relax completely and forget about the hassles of her job, but still near enough that it wasn’t inconvenient to make the commute when she was flying. On the other hand she didn’t much want to get spanked. It wasn’t something that she had personal experience of, but from what a fellow attendant who had occasional encounters with her father’s strap when growing up said, it wasn’t an experience one really wanted to have under their belt. She briefly considered clicking on the top of the pen, setting it aside and walking from the shop, then she saw Phoebe’s pleading eyes, sighed and fixed her signature on it.
Andrea’s eyes sparkled, she collected the form, looked at it, satisfied herself that the signature had been placed in the right spot and was valid then slipped it into a manila folder that had Bridget’s name neatly lettered on the front of it.
“Don’t I have to sign something, too?” Phoebe asked, and seeing Andrea’s eyes flash, added a soft “Ma’am,” onto the end of her question.
“You signed a contract of employment when you commenced work at the salon didn’t you, Phoebe?” Andrea asked her.
The brunette nodded, her straight, shoulder length black hair shaking with the movement. “Yes, Miss Andrea.”
“You know that some of your colleagues are sent here for the occasional ‘attitude adjustment’?” Andrea pressed the girl.
Phoebe nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. She had avoided being sent next door by her boss so far in career at the salon, but she had strong memories of some of the other girls returning from a visit Aunty’s Spank Shop evidence of recent tears clear on their faces, pained expressions if they had to sit, hands clutching the seats of their dresses.
“That contract has a clause in it that covers punishments given here. If you want a new form, because this isn’t strictly speaking a work related offence I can give you one, Phoebe, but it’s kind of doubling up, seeing as you’ve already given your permission.”
Phoebe saw that on the table in front of the composed disciplinarian a file with her name on it sat next to Bridget’s. “No, ma’am,” she said, dry mouthed.
“I know I’ve given my approval,” Bridget said, “because I don’t want to have to leave the house, but I don’t see the point of this all.”
“You what?” Melanie burst out, standing up.
“Melanie!” Andrea said sharply and directed a stare at the blonde court assistant, who blushed and resumed her seat. “What exactly do you mean, Bridget?”
“You’re going to spank us, right?” the redhead asked directly.
A smile played across Andrea’s full lips. “That is what the sign outside advertises, dear.”
Bridget shrugged. “Feebs and I are both grown women, and okay a spanking is going to hurt, but our housekeeping or lack of it is kind of ingrown. Won’t we just backslide and what happens then?”
Sandra looked at the flight attendant. “She does have a point, Andrea. I can send them back here I suppose, but it will be an endless cycle as soon as their bottoms stop hurting.”
“Well, the words came easily enough to Miss Shaughnessy, but I don’t think she really knows what a Spank Shop spanking actually is.”
Phoebe swallowed hard and could feel herself sweating. Couldn’t they just get it over and done with? She hadn’t been spanked in some years, but all the memories were flooding back. They hurt and they were embarrassing.
“May I speak please, ma’am?” Melanie asked politely.
Everyone’s eyes turned to the girl and she gave a little shiver. Both Andrea and Sandra nodded, so Melanie moistened her lips with her tongue and outlined the plan she had come up with.
“I know Phoebe and I know Bridget’s schedule. Phoebe is a rotten house keeper…”
“Hey!” the brunette protested, spots of colour standing out on her cheeks.
“You are, honey,” Bridget said, putting a hand on her housemate’s shoulder.
Melanie continued. “And two girls alone, unless one of them is a keen gardener would always have trouble keeping up a garden. I don’t think either Phoebe or Bridget have access to a lawn mower.”
“Mel,” Sandra interrupted her court assistant. “We know most of this, it’s why we’re here.”
“I know, ma’am,” Melanie apologized. “I’m getting to it. We have people in town who will mow your lawn and do your gardening and we also have people who will do the housework if you can’t handle it.”
“They cost money, Mel’,” Phoebe pointed out.
“Well, we could add it into the rent,” Sandra suggested.
“We have enough trouble meeting it now!” Phoebe wailed. Bridget nodded her fiery head in agreement.
“What if you had a third to share the house?” Melanie said, trying not to smile. “The house has a third bedroom you don’t use. That was the one you started to paint.”
“A third?” Phoebe and Bridget chorused.
The girls had mixed feelings on the idea of a third housemate. Bridget didn’t really mind as long as they were fun and respected her need for rest and her schedule. Phoebe had initially been against it, but that came from years of sharing a room with one of her younger sisters. The girl couldn’t cook to save herself and part of the issue with how messy the house got was because she couldn’t be bothered picking up after herself and with no one there to nag at her about it, the way her mother had, she didn’t do it. Bridget was away so much, and Phoebe did get lonely, plus at times it was a little scary even though she knew she lived in a nice neighbourhood with pleasant security conscious neighbours. Having a third, especially if it was someone about her age, wouldn’t be a bad thing. After all as Melanie had said they had a third bedroom, so it wasn’t like they’d be sharing a room with her and getting into her stuff and borrowing her clothes without asking.
“I’m guessing you already have a tenant in mind, Melanie?” Sandra said, her eyes narrowing.
“Yes, ma’am!” Melanie agreed brightly. “Me!”
Sandra sighed and shrugged. “Well, you’d pass the interview with the landlord. Girls?”
“I’m good with it,” Bridget agreed. “Feebs?”
“I guess we can try.”
“That seems to have settled that,” Andrea said cheerfully.
“Not quite,” Sandra said rather ominously.
“Ma’am?” Phoebe and Bridget asked, looking nervously at the judge.
“You did paint a room without asking permission, or rather you half painted it. That has to be completed…”
“Mel and I could do that,” Phoebe suggested.
“You certainly will, Miss Tompkins,” Sandra told the girl. “If Melanie agrees to help then I will permit that, although I’ll want to check that it was done properly. I will also have to go to the trouble of procuring someone to do the gardening and the housecleaning, which I might remind you was actually the responsibility of you and Miss Shaughnessy according to the rental agreement which you both signed.”
“We’ll pay for that, Judge Thornley,” Bridget assured her.
“Yes, with Melanie’s help with the additional rent you will,” Sandra agreed. “However it doesn’t alter the fact that through no fault of my own I am being inconvenienced as well as the calls I received from people in the street who weren’t happy about what the state of my property was doing to their local image. You do understand how that reflects on me with my standing in the community?”
“Yes ma’am,” the two girls said, bowing their heads.
“If Andrea is still prepared to give the two of you a good hot bottom here and now I think we can wipe the slate clean and go ahead with Melanie’s plan.”
“A sp…spanking…still?” a crestfallen Phoebe asked, her hands straying to the seat of her skirt.
“I think it’s daft,” Bridget sighed, “but if that’s what it takes.”
Melanie didn’t say anything, but she shook her head, The Irish girl clearly had no idea what she was letting herself in for.
Andrea smiled around the room, trying to reassure the two girls, although Bridget didn’t seem in need of reassurance. “The quicker we get started, the quicker we can put the new plans for the future in place, so I think we’d better do that. Melanie?”
“Yes, ma’am!” the girl said brightly, smiling. She’d been here before when Andrea spanked and it was quite a sight to see. There was something good about seeing one administered, especially by someone like Andrea who was an absolute expert at scorching disobedient posteriors, when you weren’t going to be on the receiving end. She wondered if Andrea wanted her to help, the way she had with Judge Thornley’s nephew Nicholas and the young thief Ryan.
“I think given that in a fairly short space of time you’ll be sharing a house with Phoebe and Bridget it would be best if you left us now and went back to the office. I’m sure Judge Thornley has some paperwork that needs doing.”
“Back to the office?” a clearly disappointed Melanie said.
“I think Andrea has the right of it, Melanie,” Sandra agreed. “From my own uni days, sharing with others I can remember that if one member of the household has something over the others it can create some unnecessary tension.”
“But I…I…” Melanie started, then faltered, unwilling to let her two new housemates know that she too attended the shop to be spanked to tears over Andrea’s knee from time to time.
“You what Melanie?” Andrea asked.
“Nothing, ma’am,” Melanie sighed. Once she was moved into the house she’d have a talk to Phoebe and Bridget. Find out what happened in the parlour after she left and let them know about her own visits to it as well.
The two girls sat side by side, watching Andrea nervously as she rummaged about in a large double doored cabinet. Sandra had seen some of the contents in that cupboard. Many of the clients referred to it as Andrea’s ‘chamber of horrors’ or her ‘war chest’. With good reason, too. It contained a dazzling array of paddles, straps, canes and other things that Andrea used to roast the rear ends of her clients. Her famed and feared hairbrush Mrs Ebony lived in that cabinet.
Andrea continued to search and then muttered to herself. She withdrew from the cabinet and stalked to the phone, still making dire threats. Her hand was on the headset when Kimberley appeared in the doorway to the parlour, holding an old fashioned carpet slipper in one hand.
Andrea stared at the girl and then blinked. “Kim? I was just about to call you. My spanking slipper isn’t in the cupboard.”
“No, ma’am, I have it here,” Kimberley said with a polite smile, lifting the slipper.
Phoebe looked at the broad and well polished sole of the item of footwear and suppressed a shudder. Andrea had called it a spanking slipper. Phoebe’s mother didn’t use a slipper to smack her bottom and those of her sisters, but her aunt did and Phoebe had felt it along with her cousins, they hurt…a lot. “She hits you with a slipper?” Bridget whispered.
“I guess,” Phoebe answered. “They’re bad news, Bridgie.”
“I really don’t know why this childish punishment has you so worried, Feebs.”
Phoebe shook her head and murmured, “You’ve never been spanked, Bridgie. If you had you’d know why.”
“Is this a private conversation, ladies, or can anyone join in?” Sandra asked sharply.
“No ma’am,” both girls said.
“You’re already getting spanked, I wouldn’t go making it worse by talking out of turn,” the judge advised.
“Kim,” Andrea said to her assistant. “Can we add telepathy to your list of accomplishments? How did you know I was going to call to ask where the slipper was?”
“Oh, I didn’t, Aunty,” the pretty blonde said with a giggle. “I used it yesterday and I left it in the other parlour. I just remembered now and thought you may want it.”
“Happy coincidence then.”
“Probably not for Feebs and Bridget, though,” Kimberley said, handing the slipper to her employer. “It’s still warm. Mum just used it on Kitty Toscanno.”
“Kitty got her backside heated again?”
“Uh huh,” Kimberley agreed. “Some people are slow learners.”
“Well if she enjoys sitting down she’ll get the message eventually,” Andrea said. “Thank you, Kim. I’ll call if I need you.”
“Yes, ma’am. Do you want more tea, Judge Thornley?”
“No, I’m good, dear,” Sandra told the girl, lifting her still half full cup.
“She is an absolute marvel, Andie,” Sandra said after Kimberley had retreated back to her domain in reception.
“She is,” Andrea agreed. “I’m lucky to have her.”
On the couch Phoebe made a miserable little sound. She was two years older than Kimberley, but that hadn’t stopped her mother from continually comparing her to the ‘Kennedy’ girl and having her come up short. Although Kimberley had two sisters: Chelsea and Madeleine, there was no doubt who people meant when they spoke about the ‘Kennedy’ girl in glowing terms. Chelsea was sixteen and hadn’t yet achieved in the way her older sister had, although she was making ground on the older girl. As Madeleine was still nine years old it was too early to tell how she’d turn out.
“Aprons?” Sandra asked Andrea.
The chestnut haired lady wrinkled her nose. “On this occasion I don’t think we need them. If I was going to display the girls in the corner I’d consider it, but Phoebe’s expected back at work, so we can’t take too long this time. We do need them bare, though,” Andrea said sternly.
Phoebe raised her eyes to the ceiling, but didn’t say anything
“Bare?” a confused Bridget asked. “What does that mean?”
A smile played across Andrea’s lips. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you Bridget?”
A flush crept into the girl’s creamy cheeks, but she said indignantly. “Not that it is any of your business, but I most certainly am not!”
To the Irish girl’s surprise both Andrea and Sandra laughed delightedly and even Phoebe giggled.
“Have you ever been spanked before, Bridget?” Andrea asked.
Confusion reigned in the girl’s sparkling green eyes and she answered firmly, “No.”
“At the Spank Shop, when we say virgin, we mean that you haven’t been spanked before. In spanking terms, Bridget you are indeed a virgin, and unless you’d like me to add to what I already have planned for you and Phoebe I would thank you to use the proper respect when speaking to me, young lady.”
Bridget lowered her eyes and answered demurely, “Yes, ma’am.”
Phoebe had winced when Andrea was scolding her friend. She hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of an Aunty Andrea tongue lashing before, but other girls at the salon had, and in their opinion Andrea was world class. Apparently Mrs Kennedy – Kimberley’s mother Gabrielle – came close. Having witnessed this one Phoebe agreed with her work mates and determined that she’d do her best to get through the spanking without incurring Andrea’s wrath any further. Being spanked was bad enough, but those dressing downs made it almost unbearable.
“Bridget,” Andrea said firmly, fixing the redhead with her emerald gaze. “I think you had best follow Phoebe’s example and visit the little girl’s room now.”
“The loo?” Bridget asked. “Respectfully, ma’am, I don’t need to go.”
Andrea let out a long controlled breath. “As you’re new to the shop and as you have not had that posterior of yours well warmed ever in your life I’ll give you a choice. Before I do so, I will explain something to you. I am going to spank you and it will hurt a lot. It is not unheard of for young ladies and men having their botties smacked to lose control over their bladder. It has happened here to me, it is both highly embarrassing and messy. If you think you can take the spanking and not have an accident over my lap, you are welcome to do so. If you’ve guessed wrong and you do lose control during your spanking I will become very cross, young lady, especially as I gave you the option.”
“Bridgie,” Phoebe said gently in a quiet voice. “Go and do it. I know you don’t think you’ll pee, but it can happen. It’s not fun and it’s super embarrassing.”
Bridget looked at her friend, she huffed out a breath, stood and went silently to the bathroom, her back straight and stiff.
“Thank you, Phoebe,” Andrea said. “Now if you’d just vacate the couch, sweetie so Aunty can sit there, we’ll get you all ready for a good old fashioned smack bottom.”
Phoebe stood up and took a deep breath. Her bottom tingled and the butterflies in her stomach that had been gently fluttering since she entered the welcoming parlour were now frantic with the need to escape.
“I don’t get an apron, ma’am?” Phoebe asked. She’d heard about the aprons, she thought they were silly, but she had been led to believe that it was standard procedure.
“Do you want one, sweetheart?” Andrea asked, settling herself in the middle of the couch.
“Not really, Aunty. I just thought…”
“If you really want it I’m sure Kimmy can find something suitable, but I thought I’d let the two of you keep a little dignity and the aprons while effective are so very childish.”
Phoebe tried to process this, it was such a surreal experience. Andrea turned hot and cold so quickly. One moment she was scolding Bridget for talking back and the next she was telling Phoebe that she was trying to spare the two of them some embarrassment.
“Okay, ma’am, thank you,” Phoebe whispered.
Andrea smiled up at her and slipped her hands up the girl’s skirt and calmly and with as little fuss as possible lowered her panties, she rolled them down the legs, had the brunette step out of them and handed them to a grinning Sandra Thornley for safe keeping.
“The little apple on the seat is cute,” Sandra remarked, examining the scanty underwear critically.
“They cost a lot, ma’am,” Phoebe confessed, a blush creeping into her cheeks.
“Well, just as well Sandra is holding onto them for you, Phoebe,” Andrea said, lifting the girl’s skirt up to bare her bottom. “I do sometimes fasten them around the legs, it cuts down on the kicking, but that would stretch those and we don’t want that.”
“Turn around sweetie,” Andrea requested.
Phoebe turned obediently and felt Andrea pinning the back of her skirt up to her blouse. “There’” the chestnut haired lady said with a tone of satisfaction, giving Phoebe’s twitching rump a sharp slap. “That should make sure it doesn’t fall down and get in the way. You’ve been spanked before, haven’t you darling?” Andrea asked.
“Yes, Miss Andrea.”
“Who did that, sweetness?”
“She’s an over the knee spanker I assume?”
“Lovely, then you know what to do. Over Aunty’s lap, sweetie.”
Just as Phoebe was getting into position over the woman’s waiting lap, Bridget returned from the bathroom. The redhead stopped in the doorway, her mouth dropping open at the sight of Phoebe being settled over Andrea’s thighs.
“Welcome back, Bridget,” Andrea said with a smile as if the scene was one of the most natural things in the world. Given what Andrea did for a living, maybe it was. “Feels better once you’ve spent a penny, doesn’t it?”
Bridget briefly considered saying that she’d had to work pretty hard to relieve herself because she really hadn’t needed to go, but didn’t think that was the wisest course of action, so replied, “Yes, ma’am,” while keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Phoebe’s upturned very bare backside.
“Excellent,” Andrea purred. “You can stand in the corner and think about things while I give Phoebe’s botty its warm up.”
‘The corner?’ Bridget thought. How old did this woman think she was? Six?
“Eyes front, hands on head,” Andrea said perfunctorily.
There was something so commanding about the woman and the way she said things like she just expected to be obeyed that had Bridget walking to a corner in a daze, facing the wall and lacing her hands atop her head.
A loud slap sounded in the stillness of the cozy parlour. Sandra Thornley set her teacup down in its saucer and leaned forward to watch the spanking, her brown eyes shining.
Bridget’s back stiffened at the report of the smack landing on her housemate’s unprotected rear end. Before a second spank could ring out, Phoebe yelped out a loud, “Owww!” quickly followed by another one as Andrea’s hard, experienced palm clapped across the other cheek smartly.
Phoebe began to wriggle and kick her legs as Andrea calmly and competently sprinkled firm stinging slaps all over her buttocks and upper thighs. They quickly went from a creamy white to a hot blushing pink.
Phoebe was gasping and crying out in distress and rolling her body from side to side in a desperate and futile attempt to avoid the stinging rain of spanks that Andrea diligently applied to her writhing backside.
“My, you are a wriggler aren’t you?” Andrea asked rhetorically, not missing a beat as she continued to steadily redden the once white buttocks nestled into the crease between her legs and her stomach. “It’s just like spanking a little worm.’”
Bridget heard Sandra chuckle richly at Andrea’s observation and turned her head slowly. Without seeming to look at the girl in the corner Andrea ordered, “Eyes back to the wall please Bridget. That’s your one and only warning. Do it again without permission and I’ll take the ruler to your thighs and believe me you won’t like that one little bit, young lady.”
With her cheeks flaming as read and hotly as Phoebe’s bottom, Bridget trained her eyes on the wall and tried in vain to shut out the brunette’s squeals, yelps and pleas.
“Oh please don’t beg, Phoebe,” Andrea said scornfully, unleashing a scorching volley on the girl’s sit spots that made her roar. “It’s a very unattractive quality, and all over a childish smack bottom, too.”
Phoebe blubbered, “M sorry, Aunty,” miserably and then burst into tears which she kept up for the remainder of her hand spanking, which mercifully for her did not last for much longer.
Andrea let Phoebe sob and lay limply over her lap for a moment or two, while she rested her hand in preparation for the job it would do on Bridget’s still cool white cakes.
The girl came to the realization that another slap wasn’t landing and her hands crept to her stinging cheeks.
“Phoebe,” Andrea’s soft voice said sternly. “Move those hands one more inch and I will take a three tailed tawse to your palms. Have you ever had your hands strapped before?”
“Nno ma’am,” Phoebe sobbed in an unsteady voice. “Muhmy uncle used a ruler on them once.”
“Multiply that feeling by a considerable amount and you’ll get some idea of what the tawse feels like on them,” Andrea informed the miserably beauty therapist.
Phoebe sniffled, but curled her hands into tight fists and moved them away from her sore backside. Just after that she felt Andrea’s strong warm arms around her waist and let the woman lift her up off the lap and help her to a standing position. She kept Phoebe in front of her, those sure hands holding the girl’s arms to her side. “Look at me, Phoebe,” Andrea commanded.
The brunette took a deep breath and tried to focus on the chestnut haired disciplinarian through tear blurred eyes.
Andrea looked at the tears trickling down the girl’s face and noticed that her mascara had run and the tears had cut tracks through the make up on her face. She clucked maternally. “My aren’t we a sight? You go to Judge Thornley and let her clean up your face and put you in a corner before your slippering.”
Phoebe felt her stomach do flip flops at the mention of a slippering, at least it wasn’t the hairbrush. Generally the other girls from next doors salon that found themselves over Andrea’s lap were given the hairbrush, what made it even more painful and humiliating was that it was a brush that their boss insisted they buy when they commenced work. It had the girl’s name on the handle and it was what Andrea used to spank them when they were sent to her.
“Bridget,” Andrea said as Phoebe tottered to a smiling Sandra. “You’re next. Turn around, leave your hands on your head and come to Aunty.”
‘Aunty?’ Bridget thought as she turned around. She had heard Phoebe call Andrea that and she knew about her reputation, but did she seriously expect Bridget to respond to it? She was a flight attendant, she travelled the world for a living. She was only submitting to this because it would be a major pain for her to find somewhere else and she quite liked Phoebe, the beauty therapist was a bit like the little sister Bridget had always wanted.
Bridget frowned as she caught sight of her friend’s blazing red behind. She’d heard stories and Phoebe had told her that spankings did actually make bottoms red, but she wasn’t quite sure she believed them or that she would ever see such vivid effects up close and personal. She actually wanted to reach out and check if Phoebe’s cute little rump felt every bit as hot as it looked. Phoebe stood obediently as Sandra used tissues to dry her tears, clean her face of makeup and wipe her runny nose.
“Looks hot, doesn’t it?” Andrea asked in a conversational tone as she saw the flight attendant’s green eyes were fixed on Phoebe’s glowing bottom.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bridget answered, just remembering to add the ‘ma’am’ in at the last moment and avoid the pain of stinging slaps for as long as possible.
“Yours will soon be steaming just like Feebs’ is at present, sweetheart,” Andrea said, she reached out and pulled Bridget closer to her, at the same time she slid her hands under the girl’s skirt and hooked her fingers into the waistband of the panties, which she slipped down the legs and over the white sockettes on Bridget’s feet.
Bridget was still getting over the shock of having been depantsed so summarily and the way Andrea treated her as if she were a young child. She allowed Andrea to turn her around and her face turned bright red as the woman lifted her skirt in the back and pinned it up, to ‘clear the decks’ as she put it to ready Bridget for her maiden voyage on the ‘good ship Overlap’ sailing to ‘Red Bottom Island’.
The redhead looked at the floor beneath her and put a hand out to steady herself. “Use the arm of the couch, sweetheart,” Andrea advised in calm, gentle tones. “That’s what it’s for. Now let’s get you all snug and cosy over Aunty’s lap.”
Bridget grabbed onto the arm of the couch as she had been told and then heard a loud slap ring out in the room. It took a moment for the sting of the blow to settle in and make her realize that the noise had been created by Andrea’s hand landing on her bottom. In no time at all she was kicking and yelling as spot fires flared up all over her bottom and upper thighs. The worse were the ones that fell in the crease where buttocks and legs met. She could recall Sandra saying something during Phoebe’s chastisement about the ‘sit spots’. Those extra stingy spanks must have been what she was referring to. She roared and tried levitate off Andrea’s lap when that laser accurate palm, which felt about as hard as a slat of wood lingered on that tender area for longer than she felt was necessary. That was what broke her floodgates, too.
While listening to Phoebe blubber and bawl like a baby during her spanking, Bridget had determined she wouldn’t give either Andrea or Sandra the satisfaction of hearing her cry. Little kids cried when they were spanked, not grown women who had travelled the world. Of course Bridget had never been over the lap of anyone prior to that day, and especially not someone like Andrea Mahony, who spanked bottoms of all ages on a daily basis and prided herself from being able to wring tears from even the toughest customer with the warm up hand spanking. Tougher people than Bridget Shaughnessy had tried and failed, not only were the tears falling fast and hard, her nose was running and she was drooling as she whipped her head from side to side and desperately tried to avoid the seemingly endless fusillades of stinging slaps, only to have Andrea’s free hand firmly hold her in position over the lap.
“My, she does carry on!” Sandra said.
Andrea shrugged and lined up the crimsoning tender upper thighs for a volley. “It’s to be expected, Sandra.”
“Andie, she’s a grown woman.”
“Your Nicholas is very nearly a grown man, but he turned into a crying little boy over my lap. Tears are good, they tell me I’m getting through.”
“And the kicking and wriggling?”
“All part of it, Sandra. All part and parcel of a good old fashioned bottom warming. You just go ahead and fuss if you want, Bridgie,” Andrea told the girl.
Sandra actually helped Bridget up off Andrea’s lap and installed her in the corner, arranging her hands over her sodden red locks and she couldn’t resist a rub of those steaming strawberry coloured cheeks before resuming her seat and watching Andrea deal with Phoebe again.
“You know the hand was just the warm up, don’t you, Phoebe?” Andrea asked from where she sat on the couch. She looked up at the girl, eyes still wet from her spanking. Andrea held the hands gently.
“Yes, Aunty,” Phoebe said softly, shifting her weight from one foot to another in an attempt to try and ease the aching sting Andrea had implanted in her rear end.
“I’m sure the other girls next door have spoken to you about what happens when they’re sent here,” Andrea said.
Phoebe nodded and sniffled. Andrea let go off her hands to pluck a tissue from a box on a table behind the couch. She held it up to Phoebe’s still runny nose, applied gentle pressured and said, “Blow.”
Feeling like a snotty nosed preschooler Phoebe blew her nose noisily into the tissue. Andrea wiped the girl’s nose, smiled up at her encouragingly, wadded up the tissue and disposed of it. “That’s a girl,” Andrea said with a grin. “Now when the other girls told you about their visits here what did they say happened darling?”
“Ththey got spspanked, Aunty,” Phoebe stammered, not really sure what Andrea wanted her to say.
“Well, of course they were, sweetheart. That’s why they were sent here in the first place. They needed good hot bottoms. Is that all they told you?”
“Go on, Phoebe,” Andrea encouraged the distressed brunette. “What else?”
“They said you spanked with a hairbrush, ma’am.”
“Yes, I did,” Andrea agreed. “I gave those impudent little bottoms a good hard going over with a hairbrush.”
“Some of them said that they had to wear aprons.”
“I don’t do that as much with the girls from the salon as I do with other clients, but yes it has happened,” Andrea allowed. “Today is Kimberley’s washing day, and I think as we’re all girls and this is embarrassing enough we could dispense with those this once. If I ever see either of you here again, though, you may very well find yourself wearing one of our aprons for your hiding. Now as you are an observant girl you’ve probably noticed that there’s not a hairbrush in evidence here at present.”
Phoebe looked around and then nodded.
“However Kimmy brought something in earlier, didn’t she?”
Holding tears back, Phoebe nodded.
“Do you want to tell Aunty what that was, sweetness?”
“It was a slipper, Aunty.”
“Now, Phoebe in your experience what do slippers generally do?”
“You wear them, ma’am.”
“Yes, you do, but this was a man’s slipper and Aunty is definitely a lady, Kim only had one slipper and they usually come in pairs, so what do you think Aunty uses that slipper for?”
“Spanking,” Phoebe answered miserably, a tear slipping out one eye and trickling down her cheek.
“Clever girl!” Andrea complimented her. “Now back over Aunty’s lap so we can reheat those little cakes of yours. Aunty wants them hot enough to boil the kettle on when she’s done.”
Phoebe took a deep shuddering breath and lay herself over Andrea’s lap.
“That’s our girl,” Andrea said warmly and shifted her little, so that she was in perfect position for the slipper’s attention.
Phoebe tried to relax her tingling buttocks as she knew it hurt more on a tensed set of glutes.
Andrea helped with the relaxation as she glided the slipper’s smooth sole over the girl’s steaming rear end.
“There we are,” Andrea cooed as she saw the globes relax a little. Before the girl could tense up again she swiped the slipper across Phoebe’s rump and was rewarded with a howl.
Andrea settled herself into a steady rhythm and watched Phoebe do the overlap boogie as her fire engine red backside waved from side to side and bounced up and down to try and dampen down the roaring fire Andrea’s strong arm and slipper had lit on it.
Bridget stood in the corner and didn’t dare turn around to look, but simply shuddered with each of her friend’s blood curdling howls following the loud banging impacts the slipper made as it connected with Phoebe’s dancing derriere.
“Legs apart please, Phoebe,” Andrea commanded.
Phoebe’s head came up and she turned to look at Andrea through tear filled eyes. “No, please Aunty, not that. It’s really gonna hurt.”
“Yes it is,” Andrea said calmly. “The way you and Bridget treated Sandra’s house hurt her, it damaged her reputation and the two of you signed something saying that you would keep it in the state you found it. Now are you going to separate your legs or do I have to ask Judge Thornley to hold them open, young lady?”
With a defeated whimper Phoebe’s legs separated allowing Andrea and her slipper access to their tender inside expanses.
In her corner Bridget wondered at the conversation. Why did Andrea want Phoebe’s legs apart and why had Phoebe been so reluctant.
The sound of slipper sole meeting inner thighs was not as loud as when Andrea had spanked her buttocks and upper thighs, but Phoebe’s scream of pure anguish threatened to break the windows in the cosy parlour.
Although the inner thigh spanking seemed to last an eternity to the brunette clamped over Andrea’s lap it was only two dozen sizzling strokes or so, however it did leave her thighs quite sensitive and she’d be walking very carefully and gingerly for the next day or so.
“You can put them back together again, darling,” Andrea informed the girl gently.
“Oh thank God!” Phoebe blubbered and then hissed in pain as bringing them together reignited the fires Andrea had just stoked.
Andrea regarded the scalded hemispheres, slipper poised, then arrived at a decision. She brought the slipper down rapidly, then stopped it before it landed and just tapped Phoebe’s bottom lightly, then dropped it beside herself.
Phoebe became aware that she wasn’t getting another swat and raised up, asking, “Aunty Andrea?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” Andrea told the miserable girl. “We’re done for the moment. You can get up and get back into the corner. Sandra can you hand Phoebe that little bell in the ashtray, please. Feebs you put that on the wall and put your nose on the ribbon. If it drops and rings you’re going back over my lap. Understood?”
“Yes, Aunty,” Phoebe nodded, getting up and trying not to rub her burning bottom.
“You can rub on your way to the corner, Phoebe, but once you’re there, nose to the wall and hands on head.”
“Yes, Aunty,” the girl mumbled, one hand rubbing her scarlet behind as she made her way to the corner.
Andrea couldn’t hold the smile back, Phoebe looked positively adorable and very much a freshly spanked little girl, not the grown up lady she had thought she was when she first entered the parlour that morning.
“Bridget,” Andrea said clearly and to the redhead in the corner that calm cultured voice sounded like the knell of doom.
The girl had heard what happened with Phoebe and while the talk about the inner thighs was a mystery to her, the rest with the slipper had been very clear. Phoebe had been spanked with a slipper and the state of the girl’s bottom and her histrionics during it, indicated that it had been very painful. No one had ever spanked Bridget, but growing up one of her friends had a mother who used a slipper on her. She could still remember playing with that friend and someone telling tales on her for something, then her mother had stormed out, slipper in hand, hauled her protesting daughter up by the arm and dragged her back into the house, slapping the slipper across the seat of her dress as they went.
Taking deep breaths and telling herself to remain calm, Bridget turned around and looked at Andrea who had the slipper in her lap again. Andrea mimed removing the hands from the head and Bridget copied it, then the chestnut haired disciplinarian crooked her finger at the redhead and the girl went to her slowly as if she were connected by an invisible wire.
When Bridget stood in front of Andrea, the older woman looked up at her and said, “You heard what happened to, Phoebe?”
“You know what I expect?”
“Yes, Miss Andrea,” Bridget answered.
“Do you think you can get over Aunty’s lap by yourself or do you want some help?”
Bridget ground her teeth and bit back the angry reply she really wanted to give Andrea for the way she spoke to her like she was a small child. She refused to give this woman the satisfaction of letting her know she was getting to her. “I can do it, Aunty.”
“She sounds just like my cousin,” Sandra said with a smile, and mimicked a young child’s speech. “I can do it my own self!”
“How old is she, Sandra?”
“Four,” the judge answered with a smirk.
Bridget felt her cheeks catch fire and as she lowered herself over Andrea’s lap she reminded herself that this actually was partly her fault. She knew that the house and the garden were getting out of control, she saw it getting worse each time she arrived home from a flight, but she elected not to say anything and she probably should have. She was older than Phoebe and the younger girl did look up to her a little.
“You just settle in there and get comfy,” Andrea told the girl, as she shifted her a little and patted her twitching buttocks gently with the sole of the slipper.
Bridget was reflecting on what an odd choice of words Andrea had used ‘get comfy’. She was going to be spanked with a slipper, the situation was anything but comfortable. Then without warning the slipper smacked down smartly across her upturned rump. There was a loud rubbery crack as the polished sole of the item of footwear slapped in the dead centre of the redhead’s bottom stinging both sides of those taut tight cheeks.
Nothing was said and the only sounds in the room were Phoebe’s sobbing as she struggled to keep the belled ribbon on the wall with her nose, Bridget’s yelling and crying and the regular smacking of the slipper over the Irish girl’s rapidly heating and crimsoning rear end.
Bridget remembered the conversation Phoebe had with Andrea when the woman asked her to open her legs so she could get at the thighs and obeyed tearfully without protest. As soon as the slipper seared her inner thighs her screams were blood curdling and Andrea had to stop twice during the two dezen strokes to remind the girl not to close her legs and threaten to have Sandra hold them open.
“Do you know, Andrea,” Sandra said, speaking up so that she could be heard over Bridget’s incoherent protests. ”That slipper has turned young Bridgie’s bottom the exact shade of red as the roses in the front garden at the house.”
“Roses?” Bridget squealed, gyrating wildly over Andrea’s lap, nose and eyes both leaking steadily.
“Oh yes,” Sandra assured the girl as Andrea continued to spank away steadily, covering the girl’s blazing upper thighs. “Neither you or Phoebe have probably seen them, because they weren’t blooming when you moved in, and since that you’ve let the weeds grow up around them. I do hope that they haven’t been choked to death, because they were such pretty blooms.”
Andrea set the slipper down and said to the blubbering Bridget, “Once you get the garden sorted out, you’ll to bring me some blooms sweetheart. I like a nice vase full of red roses in here, they seem so apt for the function of the room.”
“I’ll do my best to make sure that she does, Andie,” Sandra vowed.
“Sandra,” Andrea said to her guest. “Is there another bell on a ribbon in that dish?”
The judge leaned forward and looked into the old ashtray that Andrea used as a dish to keep her belled ribbons in. “No, there doesn’t seem to be.”
“Gabrielle or Maria must have used it. Is that tea still warm?”
Sandra felt the pot and lifted it experimentally. “Barely and I don’t think there’s more than one cup left.”
Absent mindedly Andrea rubbed Bridget’s steaming cherry red cheeks nestled into her lap and the girl luxuriated under the gentle soothing touch of those long, sure fingers. With the other hand the willowy professional spanker picked up the cordless phone and spoke into it, “Kimmy?”
“Yes, ma’am?” the girl answered politely.
“How are you going out there?”
“Mum’s with a client and I’ve got young Paula Harper in the corner now.”
“Just, Paula? Or is your Mum spanking the other two of the Harper triplets?”
“No, Aunty. It was just Paula this time. I know it’s odd, they’re normally nearly all naughty together.”
“Is there anyone you can ask to keep an eye on Paula for a moment? I need another bell in here for Bridget and we’d also like a fresh pot of tea.”
“Oh yes, Mrs Grant is here, waiting for Stuart to have his rear set on fire by Mum.” Andrea heard her teenage receptionist say faintly as she held the phone away from her mouth. “Could you please keep an eye on Paula, Mrs Grant? I just need to get Aunty Andrea something. If anyone comes in while I’m not here just let them know I’ll be back in a tick. Thank you very much, ma’am.”
“She’s an absolute wonder, really,” Sandra said, sipping from her steaming tea cup and admiring Bridget’s freshly spanked hindquarters as they glowed from the quarter while the girl pressed in tightly and tried to ensure that the ribbon her nose held to the wall didn’t slip.
“I don’t know what I’d do without, Kimmy, honestly,” Andrea agreed, sipping her own tea.
“Rather like my Melanie at the courthouse,” Sandra mused.
“Yes,” Andrea said. “She’ll help keep these two in line when she moves in with them, too.”
“I think she will,” Sandra said to her friend. “Maybe they can accompany her on her attitude adjustments here, just to make sure that they don’t backslide with their housekeeping and make sure that they look after their gardener and housecleaner.”
“That’s not an entirely bad idea, Sandra. I think it will be quite beneficial for them. We’re not quite done with Phoebe and Bridget, yet.”
Two sets of ears pricked up at that, even through the waves of heat still washing through their battered posteriors. They weren’t done! What other horrors could Andrea have in store?
“Oh,” Sandra said, her expression interested.
“No,” Andrea answered, getting to her feet and peering into her dreaded cupboard, then producing something and showing it to the judge.
“Oh how fitting!” Sandra exclaimed delightedly, clapping her hands.
“Phoebe, Bridget,” Andrea said sternly. “You may both turn around now.”
Removing their noses from the wall gratefully and cupping the bells in their hands the girls turned and faced Andrea.
“Give the bells to Judge Thornley,” Andrea ordered.
Sandra took the items from the brunette and the redhead and dropped them into the ashtray where tinkled merrily.
“Can either of you tell me what I have in my hand?” Andrea asked both Phoebe and Bridget.
Phoebe’s eyes narrowed and she said cautiously, ‘It’s a feather duster, Aunty.”
“Very good, Phoebe,” Andrea complimented the girl, and seeing one hand creep back behind her reprimanded. “Don’t rub. If you can’t think of anything else to do with your hands put them on your head again.”
Phoebe sighed and clenched her hands into fists at her sides, so that she wouldn’t inadvertently rub her stinging bottom cheeks.
“I expect both your mothers have dusters like this,” Andrea continued, “although I’d be surprised if you have one back at the house, that is even if you could find it amongst the clutter. Ones with long handles like this are ideal for getting rid of cobwebs close to the ceilings and for dusting those high up surfaces. The feathers make them good for dusting delicate or breakable items. The handle makes them a multi functional tool as far as I am concerned,” the elegant brunette finished ominously.
The girls exchanged worried looks.
“I thought this was an apt tool to use today as one of your crimes is failing to do your housework. Maybe next time you see an errant cobweb or that a surface has been missed you’ll remember this meeting and what is about to happen. I’d like both of you to bend over the back of the couch please.”
Suddenly Phoebe knew with shocking clarity why Andrea had the duster in hand and what she meant to do with it. A friend at school was punished this way. The long, thin, whippy bamboo handle of the duster acted rather like a switch or a cane, and Phoebe’s friend had been ordered to bend over while her mother applied the handle of the feather duster to her legs and backside.
“Oh no, please, Aunty Andrea,” Phoebe begged, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please, ma’am. We’ll do the housework. We’re sorry. We are.”
“It is amazing how sorry they always are when I present them with an option they don’t want. Over the couch now, Phoebe. If I have to ask again I’ll have Judge Thornley help me secure you over the caning horse and you can have a taste of the cane.”
Bridget cleared her throat and spoke to her friend, “Feebs, come on. I know this is going to hurt, sweetie, but it’s got to be better than the cane. Here, take my hand,” she held out her hand and Phoebe took it, still holding hands the two girls bent over the couch and presented their still glowing red buttocks to the room for the attentions of Andrea’s unusual implement of chastisement.
Sandra stood up and went to stand at the back of the couch to get a better view of proceedings. Andrea took up position behind the girls, got a firm grip around the duster by the feathers and lined Bridget up. The duster’s wicked bamboo handle sang through the air and slashed across the redhead’s tender upper thighs. Bridget howled, and was soon joined by one from Phoebe as Andrea swiped the duster over the back of her legs as well.
“That’s for not putting your bins out!” Andrea said.
Both girls let out full throated roars one after the other as Andrea swept the handle of the old fashioned feather duster across their very sore sit spots, the stroke lifted both Bridget and Phoebe up onto their toes.
“That’s for letting the garden get to the state it has!” Andrea scolded.
SWICK! THWACK! The bamboo handle landed twice on the lower part of the glowing red cheeks and the girls screamed as the strokes reignited the fires that Andrea’s hand and slipper had lit on them earlier.
‘That is for painting a room without permission and not actually finishing the job!” Andrea told them.
Again the duster fell, this time across the full crowns of the ravaged rears and the girls sobbed and did involuntarily dances on the spot.
“That is for not ever cleaning the house!”
Andrea looked across at Sandra, who watched the punishment with interest, she caught the judge’s eye and the woman inclined her head gently. Andrea nodded in return and went to the front of the couch, then put the duster down on the cushions so the girls could see it and realize that their spanking was over.
Andrea and Sandra shared a cup of tea and listened to Phoebe and Bridget in the changing room, as the girls made liberal use of the cold cream that Kimberley had left in there so that they could soothe their aching rear ends. There were squeals as they tried to slip their panties over their scorched and possibly swollen half moons. Andrea and Sandra smiled at each other and then grinned at the girls as they waddled out with pained looks on their faces.
“Now what do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Andrea asked the girls.
“I’ve got to go back to work,” Phoebe pouted.
“You have to sit at that table of yours to do nails and things, don’t you?” Andrea asked.
“Yes ma’am,” Phoebe admitted, her face twisting at the thought of it.
“I think I can spring for one of those cushions Kimberley makes and sells,” Sandra offered.
“She won’t have one made up with Phoebe’s name or anything yet,” Andrea pointed out.
“I’ll drop it back in tonight when I go home, Aunty,” Phoebe said.
“Good girl,” Andrea smiled at her. “What about your Bridget?”
“I’m in between flights of course. Maybe I can get a start on that cleaning.”
“Oh you’ll need this, then,” Andrea said to her, handing over the feather duster.
Bridget accepted it, but the look on her face said that she would have rather Andrea handed her a live snake or a lit stick of dynamite.
“Melanie and I will be dropping in to you tonight with some paperwork to start the new rent agreement and she may want to move some things in,” Sandra said as the girls took her hands and left the parlour with Andrea watching them make their painful way out and back into the world and their new way of living together.