(Continued from Chelsea – 3)
“Come on Chelsea”, he punctuated every instruction with a wave or a point with the paddle he had taken from a cabinet. It was a nasty piece of work that she had never seen before-dark wood, holes drilled along the length of it, varnished to a high sheen. “Put your hands here”, he tapped the edge of the workbench. She stepped forward reluctantly and placed her hands where she was told. She knew, as Gennie had found out, that with the doors wide open anyone who pulled up in the yard-or was wandering by on trails off in the woods-would have a clear view of the proceedings.
“Move your feet back a tad”, he said tapping her shins. Her stomach roiled as she shuffled her feet backward enough to position her bottom to his liking.
“Geneva”, he said using her proper name which was never a good sign.
“Yes?” she answered quickly from her position near the door.
“Take her pants down.”
“Get over here and take her jeans down. Now.”
“But…” she hadn’t moved.
“She’s getting ten swats on her bare ass. If you don’t get over here and do as you’re told immediately she’ll get twenty. And I’ll give you ten.”
Chelsea looked back over her shoulder. “Go ahead, Gen. Please.”
She moved quickly then, to right behind, roughly hip to hip. She reached around to unbuckle her belt and unzip her fly. When her jeans slid down, Chelsea could feel her back there-bumping and rubbing against her. Then, after a pause, she felt Geneva’s thumbs in the elastic of her panties then her blue-jean clad leg against her own bare thigh. The touch, even accidental and in passing, was electric to her right now. Chelsea didn’t have Geneva’s curves, so when she bent over more of herself was on display than she would have liked.
Geneva stepped back, her heart flapping loose in her chest. She had taken her spanking a couple of weeks before and none since. She thought there would be another-he’d threatened, for sure-but she thought he might be kidding. But she’d never been paddled nor had she ever seen anyone paddled.
She didn’t know where to look. At Chelsea? It wouldn’t be right to stare at her naked butt though it was right there in front of her. Living together for a year-some of that time as lovers-had given her ample opportunities to see her naked, top and bottom. But not like this. She didn’t know if she was embarrassed, or embarrassed for her.
She looked to him for an idea of what she should be doing but he didn’t look her way, standing as he was beside Chelsea absorbed in the task at hand. His grey eyes were clear and focused as hers flitted about until it became apparent that she couldn’t not look-couldn’t not witness. She watched Chelsea’s bottom cheeks quiver as he patted her once, twice with the paddle to measure, then reared back. Good Lord, he was taking a long swing! She held her breath. Then it flew hard and fast-HOLY SHIT!-landing firmly on target with a sharp CRACK!
Chelsea absorbed it with little more than a rise onto her right toe. “Oh Jesus”, Gennie whispered to herself as the second swat landed and both hands involuntarily flew to the top of her head as she rocked up on her toes.
He adjusted the next swing and hit Chelsea again, full force on the left cheek then again across both with a loud SWAT! She grunted at that and broke her knees slightly. He stepped back. “Go ahead”, he said.
She held the workbench and squatted deep to try to relieve the burning in her skin.
“Can I rub?” she asked down on her haunches.
She stood and rubbed her backside softly but quickly.
“How you doin’?” he asked.
“Not great” she said dryly but firmly.
“You good with this?”
“Yep!” She said sharply.
“You deserve this?”
“Yep!” she bit off.
Without being told, she straightened and repositioned herself. Looking past her throbbing bottom Gennie saw the muscles in Chelsea’s arms and shoulders flex and bunch as her fingers trembled gripping the bench. She didn’t move when the next swat landed with a loud CRACK! but Gennie did, spinning to look out into the yard. Enough is enough!
The few remaining swats landed loudly with nothing but a grunt and one stifled “Oww”. How could she stand it? Gennie wondered breathless, but then, by the time she thought it, she had. “Pull your pants up”, she heard him say. Still not turning around she heard the jingle of the belt and the rustle of denim. “Go to your room”, he said gruffly.
Go to your room? Was she actually being sent to her room? Somewhere, deep inside, Gennie felt the shadow of a memory slide past as Chelsea brushed by her walking purposefully toward the house. Her cheeks, glanced on the way, were dry-but flushed. Chelsea was gone inside and probably up the steps as Gennie still watched the door through which she had disappeared. He approached from behind.
“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. Here…” he handed her a tube of ointment. “This will help. Go take care of her.” She held the tube and looked toward the house. “Go. She’ll want to see you about now.”