Erin In The House

It’s a big house on a quiet residential street in an outer city neighborhood. With two and a half stories, five bedrooms and two baths (most of them restored or remodeled to one degree or another over the past two decades) I knew when we bought it that-no matter how unwieldy it might appear from the outside- this would be a great place to raise our kids.

The point is, over the years I had come to know this place intimately. Every wall, every floorboard, every creak and every crack. I knew it well enough that when Marsha and I came home from shopping that Saturday afternoon I knew someone was in the house. Don’t know what rustle I might have heard, a shadow I might have seen or what scent I might have caught, but my key was still in the door as I paused in the kitchen entryway. “Someone’s here”, I mouthed to Marsha who had stopped short behind me.  She placed her bags quietly on the floor and listened. There was nothing to hear. But there was something.

We’re not “gun people” but, being Americans, we do have firearms in the house-just not in immediate reach. What we do have on hand, given my wife’s life-long affair with woman’s fast pitch, are bats. In a career spanning almost thirty years she has accumulated enough bats to have one in the corner of every room and behind every door. Most are aluminum-the wooden ones are my old relics-different colors different weights; all effective whether swung at the plate or jabbed at the ribs in close quarters.

Grabbing the one from behind the kitchen door I was attuned to the sounds of the house, listening for the next….something. Marsha, as is her wont, slid past me quietly to take the bat that was stored in the decorative umbrella stand in the dining room. She moved further into the dining room and I in the opposite direction toward the stairs listening for a groan from the upstairs floorboards. But it came from the opposite direction-a slight thump from the basement as if someone had bumped into the corner table at the end of the couch. The basement door was ajar. I pulled it wide open and flicked the switch that would light the stairway.

“Who’s down there?” I called. Then, loudly enough for anyone to hear, “Marsha, call the police.”

There was a flutter of movement at that. “Mr. Whitman? It’s me Erin…”

Erin? Erin was our next door neighbor-lived in the second floor apartment of a converted four-square on the other side of our driveway. We had known her for the better part of a decade as she attended high school with our daughter. She had been in our house for a few parties and we thought it was kind of cool when she moved in next door; we wouldn’t have to “break in” new neighbors.

It had been fine the last couple of years. She was obviously a hard worker at whatever she did-leaving early and returning in the late afternoon. Kept to herself-and whatever boyfriend she was living with. Snatched conversations over the fence…maybe once or twice she was at the door to borrow a spice that she knew we had or to avail herself of an abundance of tomatoes we invariably had every summer when Marsha’s crops came in. But that was it. Not the kind of close friendship that might have invited someone into our home when we weren’t here.

“Erin, what are you doing in our house?” demanded Marsha from behind me. The girl had no idea how to answer. She was standing in the middle of the room with a look that screamed to be someplace else. She was wearing what I figured were her work clothes-what I’d seen her leaving in-black slacks, white short-sleeve shirt, sensible shoes. Everything about her was sensible except for the situation.

Then I saw the plastic bag on the couch. My guess was she was trying to stash it when she bumped the table and brought us both down the steps. “What is this?” I asked picking it up.

“I can explain” she breathed quickly.

Inside the bag were two envelopes that I recognized immediately as my poker money. I played semi-regularly, not high stakes but enough so that I kept a few hundred in cash in the china cupboard ready for the next game. Then it made sense. Erin could see me at the cupboard from her second floor kitchen window. She admitted to having glanced down on me one night after a game and watched me count out the money and leave it there. When her boyfriend moved out last month-I hadn’t even noticed-half of her income was gone. She panicked with the bills at the end of the month. Knowing where we kept the spare key…

“….I was going to pay it back…”

“You are so busted and I am so calling the police….”

“Please Mrs. Whitman. Don’t…that will…please….” She started to cry. “I’ll lose my job if I’m arrested…”

“You’re a thief. Thieves go to jail…”

“Please…” her voice was no more than I desperate squeak now.

Marsha froze for a moment. “I’ll be right back”, she turned and stepped quickly up the stairs.

I was pissed-maybe not as much as Marsha-but pissed just the same. At the same time though I couldn’t help feeling for Erin. It’s a tough world out there and he could see how someone would panic over a few hundred bucks.  It wasn’t an excuse-but he could see it.

“I would have leant you the money if you would have asked me…”

“I know, I know…it was a mistake. I’m so sorry. I was desperate. I was going to return it…”

“You said that.”

“Please Mr. Whitman…”

“Call me Tony. You didn’t call me Mr. Whitman when you were a kid-don’t do it now.”

“Is Mrs. Whitman calling the police…? Oh God….”

“I don’t think so”, I said as I heard her faintly banging around in our bedroom. Suddenly I knew where Marsha had gone and what she was after. Now my heart started to beat a little faster.

“I’ll do anything…”Erin said miserably.

“Be careful what you wish for girl…” I said almost to myself, hearing my wife on the stairs behind me.

I didn’t even turn around-just watched Erin’s face and saw her eyes widen. I knew she was looking at the paddle that Marsha brought down with her. It was a little bigger and maybe a tiny bit more stout than a ping-pong paddle with a polished dark look and leather wrapped handle.

Spanking had burst into our marriage with a flourish about fifteen years ago. It seemed to come from nowhere since we’d never laid a hands on our kids but really, couldn’t have come from “nowhere”. Marsha had a personality that, not only needed, but seemed to thrive on periodic spankings. But that’s neither here nor there-that’s a different story. But I know by the way Marsha reacts, that this paddle does hurt. And I also knew, by the look on her face, that Erin was petrified.

Her eyes darted left and right as if she had been backed into a corner and was looking for an escape. There in fact wasn’t one.

“Come on….you’re not going to spank me…?”

Marsha was aggressive and no-nonsense. “I am. Or he is. Or we’re calling the cops. Up to you at this point.”

“No! No! It was a mistake. I told you! I’m sorry about it-it was a mistake!” she stamped her foot and was almost yelling.

“OK then”, I said trying to calm her. “If it was a mistake, let’s put it behind us. Come over here, take your punishment and we’ll forget about it.” I moved over and sat on the couch.

She looked at me, then at Marsha standing between her and the steps as if she was going to run for it. Marsha read that too and moved to the side. “You want to leave? You want to go? Go. Go ahead, thief. Leave. We know the kind of person you are now. See ya!”

“You’ll call the police if I leave…”

“You know what?” Marsha said ratcheting up the mind game. “I won’t. Better that we learned who you really are. We didn’t lose any money-we’ll move the spare key-we’re good. We got away clean. And we’re done with you. Period.” The way was open to the stairs and Erin looked that way. Then back to my wife. Then to me. The budding tantrum had subsided and the tears were ebbing.

Erin was thinking, not of escape, but of the times she had been in this basement before. How many Friday night sleepovers right in this basement-playing games, calling boys. Marsha, Mrs. Whitman, always making sure they were all fed and comfortable. She had never been treated like anything but a welcome guest and the fact that her mother was single never made a difference here as it had in other houses. And this was how she repaid them ten years later. What a miserable shit she had turned out to be.

“No”, she said quietly to the floor. “You’re right. I deserve this.”

“Come on over then…” She came over to the couch and stood in front of me. It was the strangest thing-I have never spanked Marsha on her pants. Not once. The first time I spanked her had been on the bare right out of the shower, so that set the tone. There had been some swats on her underwear-I remember some on a bathing suit but, by and large, always on the bare. So when Erin stood before me, it was just some kind of functional memory, I reached out and began to work on unsnapping her pants.

“You’re not going to take my pants down-” she almost yipped. Me, being me, was about to withdraw my hands and say something like “of course not”, or “my mistake…” but before I could utter a peep Marsha weighed in loudly.

“You’re damn right he’s taking your pants down-and your underwear too. Unless you do it yourself. You are going to get the punishment you deserve.” And then, for good measure, “Thief!”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do it!” Erin kept her eyes down as she unsnapped and unzipped with shaking hands. I actually felt a little sorry for her. The slacks were tight so she had to wiggle a bit to push them off of her hips and down her thighs.  Her underwear rolled with them on the left leaving her with a half mast look that exposed the top of her sandy-haired muff. My heart skipped a bit seeing her exposed like this. Erin had been a cute kid and was now a cute young woman, if a little short and compact for my taste, but I didn’t want to see more of her than I absolutely had to. Her thumbs were already in the elastic top of her panties when I stopped her.

“Here, come on…” I reached out and took her by the arm. “I’ll take care of those.” Pulling her toward me-“Just get over my lap.” Her slacks were bunched at her knees so she had to shuffle the steps to my side but managed to lower herself into position without too much trouble. The panties were still diagonally stretched across her bottom revealing the dimples at the top and the beginning of the deep crevasse between the two well-rounded hemispheres.

Had her underwear not slipped, I would have been inclined to leave them up but that would now require pulling them back up. Not the direction we were going. “Lift up”, I said and she slightly raised herself. Erin kept her legs tightly shut so when I rolled the panties down they caught a bit in her crotch. Rather than yank, I reached between her legs as closely as possible without touching anything and pulled them clear. They bunched at her knees with the slacks.

I had seen her in the back yard sunning or washing her car too many times to not know what assets Erin had. Her bottom still sat high and firm and was only beginning to show the effects of the mostly sedentary lives we all led. What struck me though were the deep creases at the bottom of both cheeks caused by the too-tight elastic of her panties cupping her there. Those wrinkles, in places no one should have seen, brought home the intimacy of the situation we all found ourselves in. I absently, gently ran my thumb over one of them.

”You know this is going to hurt, right?” I asked. “Yes-I deserve it”, she said into the pillow that Marsha, in a fit of motherly concern, had put under her head. “Go ahead.” I went ahead.

The first three smacks landed hard in the center of her right cheek. Her butt was just as solid as it looked and absorbed my swats easily. It wasn’t until the fifth or sixth landed that she reacted with a sharp gasp. I moved her as best I could and she responded to my pushes to give me more room to swat her left cheek. She cried out when I smacked her dead center and the echo of the swat along her deep valley filled the room. She yelped again then followed with a loud “OUCH” when I smacked the crease at the bottom of her right cheek. I kept my attention focused on the bottom of her cheeks as I slapped her again and again, causing her to wriggle and whimper between “ouches.” I stopped when my hand got numb and watch the mottled pink color spread among the fingerprints tattooed across her bottom. There was no way to avoid what was coming next.

“Marsha, give me the paddle…”

Erin’s whimpering turned into soft sobs as she buried her face in the pillow. “Just relax Erin, you’re almost finished.” She twitched as I patted the wood on her warm right cheek. “Stay still now-I’ll get this over as soon as I can.”

With that, I raised the paddle and swatted her firmly on the right cheek. She jumped forward straining against my left arm that held her down. She wailed loudly when the next swat landed in the center of the left cheek.

“HURTS!! OWW-IT HURTS!!” I smacked again on the left and again on the right, alternating. I have never felt this paddle but knew by my wife’s reactions to it that Erin’s butt was on fire right now. She was doing her best to stay in place but the tiny kicks with her knees-almost running in place-had loosed her pants from around her knees down to her ankles. Without the tourniquet keeping her legs together, Erin’s writhing was exposing more that I wanted to see or she would have wanted to show.

Her cries coalesced into one long wail that rose with her body at each impact then subsided between swats when she collapsed completely on my lap. The color palette on her bottom now included a couple of dabs of purple to overlay the pinks and reds. If there was a lesson to be learned here, she had learned it. I familiarly patted her bum. “Ok”, I said. “You’re done”. She snuffled and lifted her head off of the pillow. “Thank you”, she said weakly. “It’s Ok”, I said softly.

We helped her up-no need for modesty now-and I helped her pull her panties then her slacks up off the floor. She grimaced as the tight pants hugged her cheeks.

“I want you to go home now and stay there. You go nowhere tonight.”

“You’re grounding me?” she sniffled wiping at her tears with the back of her hand.

“For tonight, yes. And I want you in bed by ten. I can see your lights from over here. And the TV too. Lights out and in bed by ten.”

“Yes sir”, she said. “Can I go now?”

“One other thing…” I said, reaching for the plastic bag that she had taken out of the cupboard. I counted our three hundred dollars and held it out to her. “Will this get you through the end of the month?”

Her eyes widened…”I, yes-yes, it will.”

“You’ll pay me back-we’ll discuss terms later.”

“You have GOT to be kidding me!” Marsha fairly spat at me.

I was still holding out the cash but Erin froze at my wife’s words.

“You are going to give this thief the money that she tried to steal from you?”

My answer stuck in my head. I was going to tell her about helping a girl that needed help-helping someone who had seen the error of her ways and been soundly punished for it. I was further going to chide her for speaking out against me in a tone of voice that I didn’t appreciate. But all this stuck in my head. What didn’t stick though was the look I gave her. The look that shut down all conversation and debate. She recoiled from it and seemed to shrink.

“Here, take this…” I said to Erin pushing the money her way. “She should take it, shouldn’t she, Marsha?”

“Yes”, my wife said meekly.

“Fine good. Go now-and remember, ten o’clock!”

Erin took off quickly still holding the cash in her hand.

“Tony, I’m sorry…” she started. “I didn’t mean to….”

“Get upstairs and wait for me.” She nodded slightly. “And take this”, I said picking the paddle off of the couch. She took the paddle and shuffled forlornly to the stairs. On the first step she paused-seemed as if she was going to say something but thought better of it. She went up.

I was going to wait a few moments-maybe more than a few-before following. Whenever I finally got there she would either be in the corner or lying bottom-up on the bed with a pillow below her hips. Either way, the outcome would be the same.

Erin stood in her bedroom across from the Whitman’s driveway. Her slacks and underwear were over the chair as she gently rubbed sunburn lotion onto her bum. She couldn’t believe how that paddle had burned-and still burned. Then, as if in a memory, she heard the faint slap of the paddle again. She froze to listen-and heard it again. She moved into her kitchen which was the room closest to her neighbors and heard the distinctive swatting sound coming from the slightly open window of the Whitman’s bedroom window. The blinds were shut tight but she knew well now, the tell-tale sounds of a paddle on bare flesh.  There was a muffled cry after the next swat and Erin started counting as she stood in her kitchen rubbing her bruised bottom.

Erin came over the next morning as I enjoyed my coffee and Sunday Paper. She was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt; the pajamas of her generation. Her hair was tousled but she didn’t have the look of someone who had just popped out of bed. More likely she had been watching me-deciding whether to come over or not.

“Can I join you?” she asked.

“Sure”, I said, pushing my readers up onto my head. “Coffee?”

“No. No thanks,” she said, sitting in an open chair. She paused-leaned forward and paused again. Then sat back and seemingly became absorbed in Marsha’s flower beds. I was about to put my glasses back on and return to the sports page when she finally spoke.

“My butt is still sore.”

“Yeah, I figured it might be.”

“And red. It’s still red. In spots, anyway.”

“I’d imagine.”

“Do you want to see?”

I looked at her closely. “Better watch yourself or you’ll end up across my lap again.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about….”





He loved watching her doze on the couch-in front of the TV

Or on the recliner across the room with a book in her lap.

She worked hard, he knew. Sleep would overtake her before she was quite ready.

Or maybe she was ready-maybe she liked it this way

Surrendering to fatigue in the living room.

Her head would loll to one side or the other and the dark bangs she twitched at incessantly would be free to cascade over her cheek.


He would allow his gaze to stroke her face

Her cheekbones-high and handsome

The tiny nose with the little bump on the bridge that he didn’t quite understand.

She could have that fixed-but it did impart character

True beauty was not sterile perfection: bumps and tweaks were fine.

Her lips-slack and slightly parted

Past the tiny dip between her collarbones

To the gentle rise of her breasts.


Watching her doze like this-in the light of the front room was almost better

than watching her sleep in bed-

Where in the dim glow of the clock he could trace the outlines of

Her hips

Her legs

Her shoulders

Of course, she undressed in the bedroom.


He could not believe that he had found her-

That she was his and his alone after such a long and lonely journey.

At times like this he considered himself the luckiest man alive.


He heard a door open across the street and pulled away from the window.

He easily slipped deeper behind the hedge and moved toward the back of the house.

It was a dark night-especially in the back.

He could spare some time to wait at the bedroom window.

Hopefully she’d be wearing the green pajamas.


Candy’s Betrayal

“I think we have to call a meeting over this”, said Tina.

“Really?” Tommy asked. “You think so?”

They were sitting at the end of the dimly lit bar as the staff worked on prepping the place for the afternoon open. On paper, Tina owned the place as majority shareholder but Tommy was a major partner as was his wife Candy. She had finally bought into The Club a year ago when she was having concerns about Tommy spending so much time there. She knew it was the job and long hours were part of the business but she was concerned about the hours he was putting in with Tina. Those concerns were assuaged after a year of working together but she was still prone to unwarranted fits of pique when she felt his attentions were too focused on Tina or The Club and not enough on her.

Tommy’s job as manager was all encompassing. Everything from counting the till from the night before and readying the deposits to maintaining inventory to hiring, firing and maintaining staff. Tina had years ago set the job descriptions and defined the…unique strictures of the job.

“Look Tommy. Three times in the last two weeks your counts have been off. Deposit slips were wrong and the start-up register was off. The deposit slips, I fixed-no biggie-but Sherri was with me when I discovered the one from the other night. And Denise had the shorted register each time. “

Tommy rubbed his cheek, embarrassed. “I know…I don’t know…You know how I count and recount. My numbers are always what they should be….”

“Usually, yes…but”, she lowered her voice even though there wasn’t anybody near, “What about the wine bottle?”

He pulled uncomfortably at his ear. This wasn’t an interrogation per se, but he definitely wasn’t used to having to answer for his mistakes. He made them, sure but he typically caught and corrected them. Did he drink here during the day and at night? Sure-what was the use of owning a bar if he couldn’t. The staff couldn’t though-at least to any great extent-or they could be the subject of a meeting. Which is why he was discreet. Leaving an empty wine bottle and glass on the bar had been sloppy and frankly, he didn’t even remember doing it. That was last Friday-it had been a bad night.

“Amanda found the bottle and was ditching it when I saw it. She thought she was covering for Denise but they put two and two together and knew it was yours. So there-you have three different girls catching your mistakes-so you know the whole staff knows about it.” Tommy spun on the stool away from her. “What do we do? You’ve put me in a tough position.”

Tommy had never been called to a meeting. As manager, of course, he had called his share of meetings to keep the well-paid staff, some who had worked into partnership arrangements, in line but had never been on the hot seat himself. But he wasn’t exempted from the process.

“Look,” he spun back to face her. “Couldn’t we just work this out between us-up in your office?”

“And how would that look? Four clear offences that the whole staff know about-any one of which would have them bent over the pool table…”

“Not automatically”, he interrupted.

“No, not automatically, but you get the drift. It already looks like preferential treatment. Then for me to deal with you in private-and everyone would end up finding out-and Candy would know that I had you up in the office….That would be a can of worms.”

Yes it would be. Transparency was one of the major guiding principles of The Club. Everybody who came aboard knew the rules, knew what was allowed and not, knew what they could get away with and not and knew the possible penalty.

Tommy sighed, “Let’s call a meeting.”

“You’ll probably have the votes anyway” She patted his hand. “At least I hope so.”

They sat at the big round table at the far end of the bar. Tina, Tommy, Candy and the ten staff on duty today. Apart from Derek, the twenty year old they had brought on board a few months ago, and Tommy, everyone around the table were women. That the staff was 99% female-coupled with her majority ownership-were the reasons typically given that it was Tina who meted out the punishments.

As she explained the case against Tommy-it wasn’t really a trial but sounded like one-he looked around the table trying to judge who would be with him. Amanda mid-20’s cute, long legged, the one who had found the bottle. When he caught her eye she pulled an exaggerated frown, mouthing “I’m sorry….” He shrugged that it was OK, not her fault. She was one of those girls who would never get called to a meeting. She had seen Denise come out on the wrong end of one in her first week on the job and decided she was going to do everything she could to avoid the public paddling. Her guilt would push her vote his way.

The girls here fell into three general categories. First there were those like Amanda or his wife: avoid at all costs. Candy had turned down job offer after job offer here for almost a year, so petrified was she of the possibility. At the other end of the spectrum were the girls like and Deborah-not Debbie-whose mistakes and missteps seemed too numerous to actually be chance. The majority of the staff though, accepted the situation and just did what they did. They blithely assumed they wouldn’t ever do anything to bring on any penalty-or be caught- but if it happened, it happened. Tommy never thought about it. Never thought he would be in a position where he would have to think about it.

Candy wasn’t working today but he had called and asked her to come in. She seemed upset that he was being called to a meeting and of course she would come in to provide her support. And her vote. She sat across the table from him next to Tina.

So he counted in his head-he had Candy, Amanda…who knew about Deborah, probably a no. Anyone who liked getting paddled as much as she apparently did surely liked to watch others get it. Derek would vote for him, he was sure. He thought he could count on Denise-but she was the most senior person in the room and kept her own counsel. Tina would only vote in case of a tie.  There wasn’t anyone on the team that he didn’t like and that didn’t like him. He was betting most of the younger girls would follow Candy’s lead. He was thinking 8-3 for him. At worst 7-4. In either case, he was off the hook with an apology and a promise to the team to do better.

He was so caught up in vote counting he didn’t notice that Tina had gone quiet and everyone was looking at him. “Well Tommy, stand up and face the wall please. We have a vote to take.” The voting was anonymous only to the accused. He stood and faced away from the table. “Alright”, Tina said. “We’ve heard all there is to hear-unless someone has anything to add. Nothing? OK. So we vote. All who vote yes, that I paddle Tommy for what we’ve been speaking about raise their hand.” For a moment nobody moved. Nobody in the room had actually ever voted on stripping the pants off of anyone with their spouse in the room which brought an awkward dynamic to the vote. Even Deborah kept her hands flat on the table.

Then, without warning, but with a small wicked smile, Candy’s hand shot up. If questioned about it she would really have no answer about why she was doing what she was doing apart from the aforementioned “job jealousy.” Perhaps, she thought on some level, if he felt less comfortable in his position, less like the big boss and more like an employee, she would get more of him than she did. Maybe that was it. But whatever it was, she was sitting there with her hand up.

Tina leaned away from her eyes wide and mouth open. “You are so bad!” she mouthed silently. The young girls looked at each other grinning and as Tommy foretold threw up their hands in a solid voting block with his wife. Deborah next. Denise, shaking her head with a grin, followed suit. In a moment everyone around the table save Derek had a hand in the air. Finally, he too-withering under twelve sets of eyes-slowly raised his hand.

“Alright”, said Tina, for show “Who votes NO, that Tommy gets off with a warning.” All the hands came down. “Ok then.” Tommy almost turned around then to return to his seat at the table. “Tommy, head on over to the pool table. Denise, get the paddle.”

“Really?” said Tommy not turning around.

“Looks like it.”

His stomach flipped and fell at her words. He never expected this. Sure, anything could happen with a vote-that was why they were to be avoided. Petty jealousies could work themselves out, long forgotten grudges could be brought into play. He had thought of that, but not really. The idea that a group would stand against him and his wife was appalling. And he could never know who-because all votes had to stay secret.

His heart pounded on the short walk to the pool table and his legs actually wobbled. What to do? He could refuse-he was a partner after all and couldn’t be fired-but that would change the dynamic of the place so much….he had to find out from Candy what had happened here. Secret vote be damned-that was his rule for God’s sake!

Behind him chairs scraped as people moved into a better viewing position. She heard Tina say “Thank you”, no doubt taking the paddle from Denise. It was a nasty bit of business, solid oak thick enough to look heavy but lightened by the three holes drilled down the middle. “Get on with it Tommy”, came Tina’s voice. He was glad that his back was to the audience so they couldn’t see his hands shaking as he unbuckled his belt and unsnapped his jeans which fell to the floor. He felt a tiny trickle of sweat form between his shoulder blades.

Oh, Lord, thought Candy keeping her hands under the table so no one could see that they too were shaking. He’s wearing the black briefs that she had bought him. The briefs that cupped his rounded butt so sweetly. With club soccer twice a week and an irregular diet, Tommy was in great shape and his bottom still had a high round look to it. “Ahem”, Tina cleared her throat behind him and someone giggled nervously.

Truth is, Tina would have liked to reach out and pull his underwear down. She would have done it slowly, revealing his firm pale cheeks one inch at a time. She was the only woman in the room besides Candy who knew what a prime ass Tommy had. She knew the firmness of it; knew what it felt like to have a handful of each cheek. It was a bottom that deserved to be unveiled slowly.  As it was though, he put his thumbs in the waist band of his briefs and pushed them down where they joined his pants in the pile on the floor.

This was the time in most punishments where eyes were averted to spare as much embarrassment to the subject as possible. Today though, largely because of her exaggerated, comic pantomime with Tina at the vote, no one was looking away. This had become a fun diversion.

Candy breathed quickly to settle the flapping in her chest. She looked at her husband’s bare butt and was mortified in a way she couldn’t explain. She was joining a room of friends and associates gazing at something that, until this moment had been a secret to her. The tiny strawberry birthmark that looked like Lake Ontario on his right hip, that tiny scar at the top of his left thigh right below his cheek from a childhood fall were out there on display for all to see. Now-Oh God!-as he bent over to put his hands and elbows on the table his cheeks widened a bit revealing even more. And Tina was RIGHT THERE-standing right behind him with the paddle-taking it all in. Obviously Candy hadn’t thought this through well enough.

Tina patted his bottom with the paddle causing him to flinch. Who giggled at that? There was no time to think about it as the cool wood was gone then at the last second he heard a movement that was Tina swinging hard. The first swat landed cleanly and completely on his right cheek with a loud crack and a burn like a hot coal. He gulped and gritted his teeth not quite ready when the second landed in the same spot. Christ, that hurt! He tried to steel himself but again was not quite ready when the next searing smack hit him solidly on the left cheek. He grunted to himself…OW! Shit, shit…that hurt-ouch ouch! He was hoping to stand stoically and silently through this thing but he didn’t know if he could-

He couldn’t. The fifth and sixth swats landed in quick succession on the bottom of his bottom with a force that seemed to want to drive him over the table. He gasped loudly on the seventh and his right knee buckled on the eighth. “Come on Tommy-stay still” came Tina’s voice. He was grateful for the pause that the short scolding afforded. Sweat tickled his scalp. “I’m trying”, he said breathing heavily.

From behind, the fair skin of his bottom had taken on an angry pink hue with dapples of red at the contact points. Candy jumped around the tenth swat when Tommy finally yelped a loud “OUCH!” He began to struggle and move at each successive swat-up onto his toes-slapping the table with his hand-breaking one knee then the next-“OWW!” again.

Denise, sitting beside Candy, patted her on the thigh as if to say, it will be over soon. Be strong. What she didn’t know, what nobody else in the room knew, was that Candy had orchestrated this whole day. It had been Candy who had fiddled with the cash drawers and balances knowing that it would come back on Tommy. She had placed the empty wine bottle-his favorite!-where it would be found. If Tina had ignored all his apparent transgressions Candy would know that her suspicions were sound and there was something between them.

Tommy was up on his hands now-off of his elbows-and thrusting his bottom back toward the audience in a way that would have appeared lewd were he trying to do anything other than simply relieve the burning pain in his seat. What had been pink was now red and what had been red was now purple as he cried out loudly and freely with ever smack.

These things had their own momentum. People started to shift in their seats and look away. The punishment felt over. That was enough.

Tina stepped closer to him and put the paddle on the table. “That’s it Tommy. We’re done.” Candy watched him relax and to her horror watched Tina actually reach out and pat his tortured bum! First the right cheek where the colors were the darkest then the left. But wait-she had done that before-with the girls. A calming almost motherly pat after the punishment. Nothing strange there-it just felt wrong being her husband and all.

“Straighten up and stand here for a while”, Tina told him. “Take a breather”.

This was their version of after-punishment corner time. The punished was to stand there with their bruised bum out of all to see-if they cared to look at it anymore. Most folk just went back to work while the subject was allowed to recover, stop crying, rub their bottom, regain normal breathing….whatever. As long as they did it half-naked.

Candy approached Tommy and stood close to him. “I’m sorry”, she said.

“Wasn’t your fault…”

“You okay?”

“She really beat my ass. I mean really-“

“You want me to rub it?”


She looked up at him. His eyes were full but he hadn’t cried. At least not yet-those tears were going to have to go someplace.

“You should rub it then…it will feel better.”

“I’m not giving them the satisfaction.”

She looked around at the empty bar. “Nobody’s looking…” She reached out and touched his bum just as Tina had, amazed at the heat coming off it. She rubbed lightly in a circle, one cheek then the other. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

He sighed softly and closed his eyes. The puddled tears squeezed out then and ran down his cheeks. “Yes, it does. Thanks.”

She stepped against him and looked down at his front as she rubbed. Oh yes, he was feeling better. By the reaction up front he was feeling quite good, hot bottom or not. She stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m going to run. Make a bank deposit for Tina on the way home.”

“Sure”, he smirked. “Enjoy your day off.”

“Come home early if you can. I’ll take care of your poor bottom. And the other thing.” As she was walking out the door she heard Denise call to Tommy that Tina said he could get dressed and get back to work.

A few minutes later Tommy took the stairs up to Tina’s office finding her behind the desk working on tax forms. He closed the door behind him.

“Jesus, Tina. You really went to town on me.”

“Yes, that was a good one…” she agreed taking off her glasses.

“Did you have to do it that hard?”

“Had to make it look convincing right? What would it look like to your wife if I was easy on you? You don’t want her to be suspicious do you?”

“Yeah, but…”

She pulled an exaggerated sad-face and came back with a baby voice’ “Awww, did I hurt your bum?”

“Come on Tina, cut it out….” She was up moving from behind the desk.

“Do you want Tina to kiss it and make it all better….?”

Before he could protest too much she pulled him tight to her by his belt and undid the buckle. He could have fought her off had he cared to but was fine with letting her spin him around, yank down his pants  and for the second time this afternoon bend him over. “Nice panties”, she teased as she pulled them down and off. There were places on his bottom that were still numb from the paddling and didn’t feel the soft kisses and tender bites that Tina put on them. “God, I love your ass”, she growled as she spread his cheeks, one hand on each and worked her tongue into the middle. Flat on her desk, he moaned as much because it felt good as to let her know that it felt good. He trust himself backward as he had done earlier.

“Oh no, you don’t…” she said fumbling with her own pants. “This one is mine…”

He heard a rustle behind him as her pants fell to the floor. She reached around him to grab the handle that had presented itself and turned him around. They kissed deeply, intimately and very familiarly as she dragged him to the couch by his cock. She flopped down and whipped off her killer black panties and kicked them across the room laying spread wide and waiting. He positioned himself above her on his knees and an arm before dropping deliberately and sheathing himself wetly to the hilt in one long thrust. She cupped his cheeks in her hands…”I love this ass,” she gasped as he trust again.

In line at the bank Candy still couldn’t stop thinking about her betrayal of Tommy. She had to think of a way to make it up to him….

Faerie Keyhole

Faerie Keyhole

I, almost literally, stumbled across this faerie keyhole along an (not The) Appalachian trail last weekend. My gram used to tell me that these were portals that faeries, nymphs and other extra-worldly beings used to slip between realities. I’m still looking for one my size.

Sherri’s Punishment (Part Two)

Continued from Sherri’s Punishment (Part One)

As promised, they didn’t have long to wait. They heard the truck pull into the driveways and both of their heads turned toward the sound like cats hearing their people coming home. They kept the attentive pose as the truck door slammed, then the kitchen door opened. Cassie dropped her eyes to the floor and Sherri came back to attention as Ron strode into his office.

“Hello, ladies”, he said brightly.

“Hi Honey,” came from the corner and “Hi Ron” from Cassie.

“Glad you could make it over Cass, but I’m surprised to see you there in the chair. There are two more corners here you could have grabbed.”

Cassie spoke quickly, her voice rising a little, “You never told me to stand in the corner. I didn’t know…..”

“That’s OK”, Ron said, fiddling with the computer on his desk. The room was full of hardware befitting a man who made a living in high-tech security. “I wasn’t specific. We did want to see how you’d react though, seeing Sherri like this…”

“We?…Sherri, were you in..”

“No, no, not your partner in crime…”

Cassie was distracted as Ron went to the closet and brought out a thick wooden hairbrush. It was round and solid and Cassie couldn’t help thinking what how much of her friend’s butt this would cover in a single smack. Her eyes even darted to Sherri’s small, tight bottom as Ron walked over to his wife with the brush. “Remember this honey?” She turned to look then snapped her head back into the corner. “Yes I do”, she said.

“She remembers, alright”, he was addressing Cassie now. “I only used it on her the one time-when she missed a car payment then lied about it. That was 10 swats on the bare butt and it had hurt so much she begged me to only use it for the worst offences. Right honey?” There was no comment from the corner.

“My first thought, leaving here this morning, was that I’d get home and give my little drunk driver a hundred swats with this.” At the number, Sherri’s knees almost buckled and she gasped. “Oh yeah” said Ron hearing her reaction. “One hundred swats with this baby would really make an impression, wouldn’t it?”

“Please, Ron…” she pleaded feeling sick to her stomach.

Watching her friend cower in the corner, Cassie suddenly wished she was anywhere else. What was about to happen in this room was between them and she shouldn’t be seeing it. She said nothing though, sitting rod straight, supremely attentive to what Ron was doing at the desk. Then to the flicker of a large screen mounted on the wall at the end of the couch visible from anywhere in the room. The screen came alive with a storm of static and snowy buzz then, after a few tones, her husband Chet appeared from his office in Germany.

“Evening, Cap”, said Ron.

“Hi Gang…” Chet came back.

Cassie flopped back in the chair. She and Chet Skyped at least once a week so she was familiar with the technology and process but nothing she had at home matched the equipment they were using now.

“So, as I was saying”, Ron went on, “I needed this punishment to be very memorable, so I was stuck on this hundred number. That would be an impressive number wouldn’t it Sher?” There was no comment from the corner so Ron went on to explain how he had thought to keep the number but maybe split it up between the two miscreants. Fifty apiece.

Cassie caught up with his train of thought. “You think you’re gonna paddle me with that thing?”

“Yes I am…”

“No way Buster.”

“Cassie”, said Chet calmly from the TV on the wall. “I’ve heard things about you for the last year-not from Ron either-I was hearing things while we were both over here. About your drinking, your carousing…”

“Who are you talking to? Who’s telling you….”

Chet’s message was simple. He, and Ron, had friends in law enforcement all through the city and county. And in six months he will have put in his time and will be joining Ron in his security company that will put them in a very different tax bracket. But the job requires some discretion and could easily be scuttled by a couple of wives acting like wayward teenagers. “So we decided to nip this in the bud, so to speak, right now.”

“What if I don’t? What if I walk out now and just say no?”

“Then you better keep walking”, Chet told her. “Because you won’t want to deal with me when I get back.”

“And”, Ron pointed out with a nod to the corner, “Your girlfriend Sherri there will go back to taking the hundred swats herself.” Cassie actually saw Sherri’s butt cheeks clench at the thought. “So you go ahead Cassie-decide what you are going to do. Deal with the consequences of your actions or run out on your friend. Up to you.”

Ron sat in the middle of the couch and turned his attention back to his wife. “Come on Sherri,” he said. That whole “woman-power-strong-in-her-nudity-thing” was gone as Sherri padded across the floor toward her husband. She didn’t expect an audience for this and was wondering how strong she could be, how much she could take before blubbering like a little girl and begging him to stop.

Standing beside her seated husband she knew there was no modest or demure way to lower herself over his lap. She was pretty sure the camera was behind her to give Chet the best view of the proceedings so she could feel his eyes watching her butt fill his screen like a harvest moon. Worse, with one foot still on the floor and a knee on the couch as she bent forward onto her hands, she felt her labia expose itself to all who wanted to see. Sherri couldn’t know, of course, but Cassie turned away at that, feeling that some privacy was called for.

In a moment Sherri was settled across her husband’s lap. She stretched her legs out behind her and pulled a couch pillow under her head. Ron leaned over and laid the paddle on the floor within his wife’s reach. “I’m going to start with my hand-just to warm her up a little.”

“Your house, your rules”, Chet said from Germany.

With a little pat that made Sherri jump, he started spanking her. These were slaps more than anything, cracks with his fingers that stung but didn’t really hurt-yet. Sherri lay still as the smacks got harder and spread out across both cheeks. After a dozen or so they were hard enough to cause her to wiggle a little on impact. “OK,” said Ron, rubbing her bottom. “Enough of that. Give me the brush, Sherri.” That was a trick of his-make her give it to him.

She reached down and picked it up feeling the weight. She handed it back.

“Thank you” he said. Then he placed his left hand on her back as if to hold her down and raised the paddle. He brought it down with a loud WHACK on her right cheek. The impact caused her jump forward and Cassie to jump simultaneously up out of the chair. A second swat followed to the same spot and a third slammed into her left cheek. She was holding tightly to the cushion burying her face in the rough pile.

Cassie had settled back into the chair but held tightly onto the arms seemingly lifting herself up with every swat. Chet watched from Germany, riveted to his computer screen. He and Ron had spent too many hours together for him not to know what went on in their marriage. To hear about it was one thing. But to see this hot, sexy, smart woman displayed in front of like this getting paddled was something else again. He tried to stay as detached as he could but having watched Sherri at the pool for years, his eyes discreetly roaming over her backside, made detachment tough. Tougher still when Sherri let out a loud yelp after the fifteenth swat.

She had held out as long as she could. Her first yelp was followed by a loud “OUCH” and then, after two quick swats at the bottom of each cheek, a loud “OW-OW-OW-OW” as she lifted herself onto her elbows. “Easy”, said Ron, pushing her back down. Her back was slick with a thin sheen of sweat. “Stay still…”

“I’m trying”, she said quivering. “I am…”

He looked for spots on her bum that were relatively unscathed but the real estate that wasn’t deep red and maroon was shrinking. He lifted the brush and brought it down dead center creating an echoing sound in the valley between the purple mountains. The next landed in the same place etching two parallel lines on either side of her slender seam. These were the swats that broke her. The standalone yells and cries coalesced into a long winded wail as she kicked her legs back, up and down, and bawled into the pillow.

Ron pressed his hand onto the small of her back and smacked the paddle hard when her butt lifted in response. “BAAAWWWWW,” she cried uncontrollably. “I can’t take it-it hurts soooo bad….PLEASE RONNIE. PLEASE…!” In answer he swatted her high on the left cheek and she screamed, throwing her right foot onto the floor. She knew better than to try to get up-she was just digging her foot into the carpet…to give the pain a different place to go. Ron used the angle to swat her right haunch and she cried out and kicked wider. He sat back and gave her a moment to calm down. Everything she tried to conceal when she lay over his lap was now on display as her legs were splayed as widely as possible. Her body shuddered with sobs. He moved the paddle into his left hand and patted her tortured bum.

“Question for you,” he said.

“What?” she blubbered with a sniffle.

“Any more drinking and driving?”

“Oh God no. Never….Please. I promise. Never!!”

“Very good. How many swats was that? Was anyone counting?”

“Thirty four,” squeeked Cassie, forgotten on the chair. Tears had streaked down her face as she watched the paddling.

“There you go. Cassie’s watching out for you. Only 16 more.” This brought another torrent of tears from Sherri as she begged to be finished. Ron listened and waited, then reached over to grab the right thigh and pull her leg back up onto the couch. Her butt glowed angrily. “I’ll tell you what. If you lay here-with your legs together and behave, I’ll give you six more and we’ll call it finished at forty.”

“OK, OK…I’ll be good…” she crossed her ankles and gripped the pillow tightly but left her bottom slack. The swats came quickly and she cried and yelped but didn’t kick. In truth, Ron laid off on these swats-they were more wrist flicks than the full arm blows she had already absorbed. At the last swat-which was the lightest of all-Sherri went entirely limp; the only movement coming from the waning sobs that were now open to the room as she turned her head and lay it on the damp pillow.

“Nice job, Sherri. You’re done…Or you might be. It depends on Cassie now. How about it Cass? Are you going to take your medicine now-and it will only be forty swats-or does Sherri have to pick up your share as well?”

The room was silent but for Sherri’s snuffling. The few tears that had worked their way down Cassie’s cheeks were now flowing freely. “I don’t want to do this….Chet? Please. Do I have to?”

Ron answered for his friend. “You’re a grown woman-even if you don’t act like it. You don’t have to do anything. But I’m giving forty more swats out right now and I got a candidate here if you’re not ready.”

Sherri’s relief in being finished now turned to icy fear of starting all over again. Sherri lifted up on her arms to see Cassie. Cassie looked at her friend’s tear-stained and mottled face. “Please Cassie”, she pleaded. “Please….”

Chet looked like he was ready to jump through the screen and take matters into his own hands when Cassie finally said, “I’ll do it.”

“There you go Sherri! Done and done. Go ahead a get up.”

His wife got off of his lap slowly. She didn’t straighten all the way up but stayed bent at the knees and waist to better pat her very sore bottom. The skin felt tight and dry enough to crack. Without waiting to be told she shuffled off to the corner and straightened just enough to get close to the walls. “Get undressed Cassie”, she heard Chet say behind her. She would be happy with her view in the corner facing the walls.

Sherri’s Punishment (Part One)

She stood at the sink rubbing her temple and looking at the car parked in the driveway. More correctly, two tires-the driver’s side-were in the driveway. The other two tires were in the grass having gashed a deep rut in the newly laid sod and crushed two dahlias for good measure. She remembered pulling into the driveway and thinking she was close to the edging. Why hadn’t she looked once she got out? At least straightened it out. Sure the deep tread mark would still be there but she might have passed it off as a minor mistake-a little distraction-instead of the testament that it was.

He was up early getting ready to head out of town for a morning of trout fishing so there was no doubt that he had seen the car while she was still asleep. His truck was beside her car in the driveway-she knew with all his gear in place. She heard him coming up the steps behind her.

“So, you’re up?”

Tried a smile. “Not sure, yet.”

“Didn’t figure to see you this morning, what with the snoring, the bedroom smelling like Tijuana…If you don’t know, you got in around three.”

OK-that answered that question.

“Who were you with?”

“Just Cassie and I-to begin.” That was a good thing. Cassie was a friend of which he approved. He and Cassie’s husband had been in the Army together and the four of them spent a lot of time together when they were all stateside. For now, Cassie was solo as Chet was in Germany. Her soldier was out-working happily in civilian security. “We went down to The Aces” she continued “……then she ran into some people she knew from work, then we moved to Five Star…then to the Legion, I think…or someplace before that”

“You driving all these places?”

“No! Cassie was….”

“Was that any better?”

“I left my car at The Aces…” she continued, “Then, when we got back there…”

…You drove home.”

“I didn’t think I was that drunk.”

“But you don’t remember how many you went to-I know you don’t know how many you had….and I bet you hardly remember the drive home.” Her stomach tumbled a little. There was nothing to explain-he had her dead-to-rights. “OK, look. I have to meet some guys on the stream in an hour-so I gotta run. But let’s be straight-You left here last night to have a good time, which was fine. But the one thing we know-the one thing you knew that you couldn’t do was drive after you started drinking. That was the one thing forbidden to you, right? No matter what you do-that’s the one thing out of bounds. You knew that, right? We had agreed on that.”


“You had an extra $50 that I gave you for cab fare. You still have it?”


“So knowing that you were prohibited from doing it-knowing that you had the money so you didn’t have to do it-neither of these things mattered to you when it came down to it, did they?”

“But it was so late…Cabs are ridiculous…” She stopped herself. “No”, her head hung low and her voice was small.

“So I have to make sure that the next time you put yourself in that situation, that you do the right thing, right?”


“Ok. Here is what I need you to do…”

She listened looking at his shoes. She was on her own until 10 a.m. She should eat, maybe take a walk, clear her head, then shower. At 10:00 he wanted her in the corner. She knew the one-in his office, just off the first floor living room. Her back to his desk and the window behind. She was to stay in the corner for 20 minutes. He suggested she think about what she had done the night before.

Then at 11:00 she was to get back into the corner, but this time to take her pants and underwear down. She should again, use the time to reflect on the last evening and to consider the many points where she might have made a better choice.

“I’m supposed to take Dawn’s class at the gym at noon.”

“That’s not happening.”

She nodded, quickly, not raising her eyes but there was a hint of resistance. If she was six maybe she would have kicked her toe against the carpet. “You like this?” he asked? “Being treated this way?”


“Then remember what it feels like.”

At 1:00, she was to strip down totally. As he said, “not even any toe nail polish” which was kind of a joke between them since she typically didn’t wear any. Actually she was happy for the little bit of private levity. He wanted her in the corner naked until he came home. And during that time she should think about what was in store for her when he did.

He leaned in and kissed her sweetly on the cheek as he headed for the door. “Have a nice day now” he said on his way out. He was able to compartmentalize everything-maybe it was the military training. He was angry earlier-will be later-but now, having laid out the punishment for her he was able to put it all in a box and deal with it later.

That was his gift, not hers. Her head pounded and her stomach fluttered but it was less from last night’s tequila and more from what was to come. She looked at the clock and worked at doing what she could with the couple of hours ahead of her.

She didn’t even think about not doing what he’d ordered. Their marriage was strong and based on trust and honesty. Sure there were things they kept from each other, there were things left judiciously unsaid as in all marriages. But for them-especially in matters of discipline-there was complete transparency. This was not the first time that she had been sentenced to do something that he didn’t monitor.

So at 10:00 sharp she stepped into the corner, placing her phone on the table beside her set to buzz in 20 minutes. She shuffled her feet closer till her toes touched the walls and moved her nose close enough so she could feel the warmth of her own breath bouncing back off the wall in front of her. As instructed, she thought about the evening before.

Her plan had been to meet Cassie for a few drinks. They hadn’t seen each other in a couple of weeks and some laughs and catching up was called for. Cassie was a firecracker and always drew a crowd. Women enjoyed her energy-she was always up for anything; looking for the next laugh or adventure. Men tended to gravitate toward her as much for her bubbling personality as her looks. Thick black curls and dancing brown eyes topped off a body that was 10 or 12 pounds away from being chunky but definitely wasn’t. As it was, she filled out her skin perfectly; stacked and tight in all the right places.

It was that lively sense of adventure that pulled them from The Aces and off to the next bar. But no, she wasn’t going to blame Cassie…she could have left her at any time, especially when Cassie had hooked up with her other friends. But she hadn’t… Her phone buzzed that 20 minutes were up. She stepped back from the corner and rolled her head to loosen a crick in her neck. With forty minutes to take care of the laundry she headed to the basement.

At two minutes to 11:00 she was back in the office. She stepped to the corner and unbuttoned her jean shorts. They were tight so she had to wiggle them down her thighs. Then she put her thumbs in the elastic of her underwear and rolled them down as well. She shuffled into place against the wall. She didn’t mind corner time fully dressed-sometimes the “time-out” worked almost as meditation. She almost didn’t mind corner-time fully naked. Long and lean with wide shoulders from years of swimming and tennis she was confident in her body. She knew how guys looked at her around the pool and, more importantly, how her husband looked at her unclothed. She retained some womanly power in her full nudity.

But she hated standing like this. Like this, she was a little girl again standing in the corner with her bare bum out waiting to be spanked. No power here as her shorts gave in to gravity and slipped into a puddle at her feet. Her underwear stayed mid-thigh.

She leaned her forehead against the wall and for the first time, as the cool air caressed her bare bottom, began to think about the punishment she would surely get when he came home. Spanking, of course, was nothing new to her. Depending upon the severity she could get through, work through or even enjoy a spanking especially if it was followed by rubbing, kissing and sometimes more. In the right frame of mind she could even enjoy the hard ones-looking at them as an athletic event…taking the best that the opponent could bring.

But she knew this would be something different. She could count on one hand the number of times she was flat-out punished in their marriage. They had all been well-deserved but that didn’t change the fact that they hurt. They hurt her outside obviously but inside as well. And it hurt both of them. The old saying “this will hurt me more than it does you” held in Ron’s case. She felt almost as bad for putting her husband through is as she felt for herself. He liked to spank her-for sure. But he didn’t like to hurt her. Today he would hurt her-and she knew she deserved it.

She clenched her bottom a little and her eyes started to sting when she was startled by Lady Gaga’s “Born this Way” coming out of her phone. Cassie. She looked at the phone and knew she wasn’t prohibited from talking in corner time. She put the phone on speaker. “Hey girlfriend”, Cassie sing-songed. “How are you feeling?”

“About how you’d expect. You?”

“Slept like the dead until an hour ago. Hot shower-now I’m fine…within limits. Don’t feed me tequila today.”

Sharon smiled leaning her head against the wall. “I’ll make a note of it.”

“Am I on speaker?” Cassie asked.

“Yeah, it’s just me.”

“Ron isn’t there…?”

“No-he went fishing this morning, remember?”

“Oh right, right……” Her end of the conversation flickered out for a moment. Then, in a lower voice, approaching a whisper “Did you get it this morning?”

“Get it?” Was she talking about sex? “Do you mean, did I get any?”

Cassie laughed-“I wish! No, no did he….beat your ass this morning?”

Oh shit-SHIT! What had she told her last night?

“….Or did he do it last night when you got home?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked with a dead voice.

Cassie related what she had told her the night before. How Ron was getting touchy about how much she drank-how she had to watch herself tonight and not get too drunk or she’d get spanked-one on the worst spankings she had ever gotten was when she had broken the glass on the china cupboard when drunk….on and on. By the time Cassie was finished talking Sherri had both hands clenched at the back of her neck pulling her head against the wall.

“Sherri? You still there?”

“Oh yes.“ she sighed. “I’m here alright.” Not adding, “standing bare-assed in the corner.” “Please Cassie, do me the biggest favor you ever could and forget everything I told you last night.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone…”

Of course she would-three drinks and things fly out of her mouth like bats out of a cave. Sherri was approaching full panic mode trying to figure how she was going to fix this. She could hear Cassie talking in the background but she was paying her no mind until the phrase…”I’ll talk to Ron…” crackled into the room.

“Wait..! What? You’ll talk to Ron about what?”

“I just don’t think it’s fair…you only were out because of me. Maybe he’ll go easier on you if I explain the situation.”

“Cassie-that is such a horrible idea. You will make it worse, believe me. I did what I did-I’ll deal with it.”

“Come on, we’re all friends here. Ron likes me-I bet you I can get you out of this…”

“Look”, she’d try lying. “There’s nothing to get me out of. What I talked about last night….I was drunk. That’s all. Just babbling. About things we used to do. Used to-not anymore. He’s pissed at me, sure. But he’s fishing and I’m cleaning the house and when he comes home we’re going shopping. He’ll get over it-I’ll go on the wagon for a few days…it’s all good.”

Here phone alarm went off. Her twenty minutes were up. “What’s that?”

“Dryer, Babe. I have to go get the load out before it wrinkles. That would really piss him off.”

Cassie laughed lightly. “OK, girlfriend, if you’re sure you’re OK.”

“It’s all good-I’ll talk to you later.” She stabbed the “END” button quickly-before her friend could say anything more. She was so distracted she almost tripped on the shorts at her feet. “Christ”, she grumbled pulling up her panties “why can’t I just shut my mouth sometimes.”

The time until 1:00 flew. As far as she was concerned, the preliminaries were over. Ron usually spent two or no more than three hours on the stream so she expected him home sooner rather than later so the foreboding that she had felt all morning now kicked into a full blown dread of what was to come.

She was back in the office at ten to one pulling her T-shirt off over her head which she laid over the back of the chair. She wasn’t wearing a bra-didn’t really need one around the house. Her breasts weren’t that large (he called them just right) and they supported themselves-at least around the house-just fine. Down went the shorts again and this time she pushed her underwear down to the floor bending to pick them up and place them on the chair too. She caught sight of herself in the full length mirror that had remained in here from when this office was a bedroom. Nervously she ran her hands down her chest and along her thighs then, turning, across her bottom. She was back in the corner with five minutes to spare actually hoping he would be home soon. As he knew, the waiting was the worst part.

It wasn’t ten minutes later when she heard the back door open and her heart jumped into her throat. She hadn’t even heard the truck. “I’m in here”, she called over her shoulder, her voice breaking just a bit. Of course she was in there-where else would she be?

She listened to the footsteps coming down the hall and pulled herself up straight, kicked her shoulders out a bit and tightened her bottom a tad to present the best “ready” posture she could. She deserved what was coming and would accept her fate. She closed her eyes as the steps came into the office.

“Holy shit, Sherri. What are you doing?”

Cassie! What was she doing here? He eyes were wide open again staring at the wall as she tried to think of something quick. But that something couldn’t involve leaving the corner; Ron could walk in anytime and her not being where she needed to be would be a disaster. Her brain scrambled for something to say but nothing came to mind that could make this seem like something else. She sighed and looked over her shoulder to where Cassie was apparently frozen to the carpet. “What are you doing here?” she asked weakly.

“Ron called me…”

“My Ron?”

“Yeah-he called and told me to come over. That he was on his way home and wanted to see me. What’s going on?”

“Maybe you better sit down, Cass. Just move my clothes off the chair. How long do we have before he gets here?”

“He didn’t say….I”

She was interrupted by her phone’s ring. Cassie sat on the chair and watched her friend lean over to pick it up not turning at all away from the corner. Sherri looked at the phone-“It’s him. Hello? Yes, she’s here-just walked in. Kind of a surprise, yes…..a little awkward” back over her shoulder, “wouldn’t you say it’s a little awkward, Cass?”

“A little, yes,” said Cassie lightly flicking her eyes anywhere to avoid staring at her friend’s naked back. They had spent enough time in the pool’s locker room to have seen everything there was to see of each other, so Sherri’s nakedness wasn’t an issue-but the context of it surely was. For the first time since she got here a tiny flutter of butterflies flickered in her belly. Sherri hung up the phone.

“He’ll be here in a few minutes”, she said.

“OK. So what’s going on?” she repeated.

As Sherri told her story into the corner, the tiny flutter in Cassie’s belly grew. It was one thing to hear drunken stories about spankings and paddlings for household mistakes or misbehaviors in a crowded bar but another thing altogether to hear about them in the room where a punishment like that seemed imminent. Now Cassie couldn’t avoid glancing then gazing at her friend’s naked bottom. Was this really going to happen in front of her?