Chelsea – 7

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(Continued from Party Interruptus)

The trail dipped into a slight decline and, out of sight of the car, he led them angling away from the road, toward, by Chelsea’s reckoning, the party house. But they didn’t appear to be heading there directly; he kept checking a map on his phone and adjusting direction. The girls came up short, startled by the rusty remains of an old gas line junction. The pipes, out of use for decades stood as leaning sentries to tell that this wasn’t always untraveled woods. He knew they were there and stopped.  Then paced a few feet due north. He stopped again and bent, clearing the leaves and branches from a small patch of ground. He reached toward Chelsea who, without a word, handed him the digging tool.

“What are…?” Gennie whispered.

“Shhhh…” Chelsea shushed her quickly.

He dug a small divot and angled the shovel into the dirt. With a quick pry he lifted a thin flat section of ground exposing a void beneath. Without prompting Chelsea dropped to a knee and caught the edge of a thick sliver of plywood concealed under a few inches of soil, leaves and branches. Her heart whirred when she spied the long plastic box settled in a wooden vault about a foot below ground. She lit her cell phone light and carefully kept it below the surface.

“Here”, he said, kneeling beside her and reaching into the hole.

Most of the gun caches she had seen when she was living with her crew in Virginia years before were smaller-built to accommodate hand guns and ammo away from the house. The way her lover had explained it then, in the years before “Prepping” became a thing, they scattered hidden guns about the farm in case “shit really goes sideways.” Maybe there were some of those small boxes out here too. But not this one. This one was built for bigger things. “Weapons won’t be a problem”, she remembered him saying.

When he popped the plastic top she was able to see long guns stacked carefully. He picked out a hunting rifle very similar to the 30.06 her dad used to have. He pulled the clip, replaced it and slipped the bolt. He took two spare clips. She, without waiting to be invited, grabbed the AR-15 that was beside it and familiarly pulled the clip and slipped the bolt. Locked and loaded.

She held it comfortably across her thighs and his idea of shouldering one and carrying the other was instantly updated. He stayed frosty at each revelation simply because he wouldn’t allow himself to be surprised. He was able to accept this new Chelsea-this new aspect of Chelsea-completely and on it’s face because it had always been there. Thinking with his dick, he had missed something. It was his gap, not hers.

There was a shotgun and a few others still in the ground. They both looked at Geneva. “No way. I don’t know who you guys are, but I’ve never held a gun in my life.” He and Chelsea were in constant motion now, furtively grabbing clips, binoculars-which Gennie would carry-then closing the vault, pausing to kick dirt and leaves back over it.

While Chelsea’s heart raced with excitement, Geneva’s pounded with a fear that would paralyze her if she let it. She squatted low and waited while he hurriedly pecked out a text message. Then, not thinking just watching, she moved when they did, in crouches that really seemed melodramatic and right out of the movies. They headed toward the house.

(To be continued…)

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Party Interruptus

(Continued from Maria)

They took the road easily, with the moon roof open to better view the graying sky that revealed itself more every night as the leaves fell. Also, so Chelsea’s dope smoke could dissipate easily into the dusk. To be fair, it was her dope but they all were partaking. Him less, but still….

As zombies went they were definitely sexy, both careful to apply makeup that accented their looks-cheek bones for Chelsea, those goddam eyes for Gennie. They were also wearing special panties he had bought them anticipating an unveiling sometime in the evening. Gennie’s said simply “Spank Me” and Chelsea’s, “I need a good spanking.” Chels laughed and took them in good humor but didn’t model them as he’d hoped. Gennie was still a little standoffish-hesitant-nervous, though she looked great in them. Hard-on great.

At their prodding and wheedling he had broken down and put on the sheriff’s costume from a few years ago pleased that it still fit. He had a tiny pang remembering that his wife had accompanied him in cuffs and a striped jumpsuit which opened in the back for when she misbehaved. Which she often did. He toked deeper when the joint reached him this time. Linda was popping into his thoughts more and more lately.

As they rounded the last turn before Duke’s place, he saw a light swinging at the head of the driveway. He slowed. Valet parking maybe? The guy was standing at the top of the drive effectively blocking him from leaving the road. He slid the window down and leaned over Gennie.

“Heading into the party”, he explained.

“No party here”, the guy answered.

“Really? I thought there was.”

“Cancelled”, he said looking closely into the car.

“Huh! I hope everything’s alright”, both girls noticed his voice was different. Lighter and a bit breathy.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I just heard about this on Facebook. Seemed like a fun thing. Don’t get out to his part of the county often. Easy to get turned around I guess…”

“Yeah, well, you got the wrong place.”

“Which is it?”

“What?”

“Cancelled or the wrong place?”

“Tell you what there, cowboy”, they guy growled leaning forward. “Might be a good time to ride on.” He pulled his jacket aside just enough to show a pistol in his belt.

“Oh Jesus pal!”, he flustered, almost sliding into a falsetto.  “Not looking for any trouble…” He hit the gas and popped ahead, around the next bend watching the rear-view more than the road.

“What’s going on?” asked Gennie.

The road switched back then slipped over a slight hill so they couldn’t be seen but he shut the lights anyway before slowing and turning onto a hard-packed dirt road that you had to know was there.

“You kids wearing sensible shoes?” he asked scanning the woods off to the right.

“We’re good”, answered Chelsea.

“What’s going on?” Gen repeated.

“Not sure.”

“You gonna call 911?” she asked.

He had stopped in the middle of the road and turned the car off. They listened to the ticking of the engine and felt the closeness of the trees on both sides. Without a word he opened the door after switching off the interior lights. He popped the console and grabbed his pistol without taking his eyes off the woods and field ahead.

“What’s that?” asked Gennie, unnecessarily.

Even wrapped in the clip-on holster Chelsea recognized it. “Sig Nine”, she said simply.

Without answering he cut his glance her way and squinted quickly-as if trying to see something in the shadows behind her eyes. She didn’t waver. He clipped the gun onto his belt.

“You gonna call 911?” Gennie repeated in a harsh whisper.

“Shhhh!” Chelsea hissed just as urgently. They gathered behind the car where he popped the trunk.  He took out a small fold-up digging tool and a handed it to Chelsea.

“We can take the poles I made for the leashes. They could be weapons.”

He closed the trunk with a silent click. “We’ll be OK for weapons”, he said leading the way into the woods.

(Continues…)

Maria

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(Continued from The Halloween Party)

Maria Monello checked the large clock whirring over the counter. And that’s what it felt like it was doing: whirring, not ticking, skipping seconds altogether to gobble minutes. She had closed the shop at noon to devote totally to the Barton party preparations knowing exactly how long everything would take. The candy apples, cool and shiny on the sideboard were done and should have been delivered by now. By rights, she should have kept Shea around for the afternoon to at least deliver. But she had other plans so here she was, late and alone.

The petite fours, all 200 of the little bastards, were in process. Nothing but the final icing then the pumpkin, or skull, or bat flourish on top. Another thirty, forty minutes at least. With a puff of her bottom lip and the back of her hand she blew her bangs back off her forehead, then stood softly trying to regulate her breathing. Her heart was not so much beating as flipping as she looked at her flour-dusted phone on the table. She had to make the call. She knew she had to make the call. Her hand almost shook as she reached for the phone then pulled back.

It was like being at the top of Wildcat back when she was a skier. That slope was at the very, very, veriest edge of her capabilities. Every time she stood at the top, tips over the edge, she felt this same way. Wanting to, not wanting to, afraid to, needing to. Once she pushed off, handed control over to the mountain, she was in control by only the thinnest razor’s edge. An exhilarating and terrifying feeling all at once.

She picked up the phone and moved back toward the office where the reception was better, stopping to stand in front of the mirror wall. She caught her own eye and smiled ruefully, “You’re a simple bitch”, she whispered to herself, then slowly, turned to look at her backside over her shoulder. It would be black slacks and tuxedo shirt later but now it was jeans and a t-shirt. Yes, the jeans-worn and torn like the kids wore them-were tight. They got tighter every year, but she still could rock them, even if she said so herself. And the way the seam ran up her middle every time she moved? That was nothing she could take out in public.

She caught her eye again; it was good that she wasn’t a poker player. They had softened allowing the vulnerability that she tried to constantly cover to leak out.  Her knees almost dipped as her free hand slid over her backside. The buzzing that she’d felt distantly and intermittently in her crotch for a week now, was louder, undeniable and pert near deafening.  She watched herself press the call button and lift the phone to her ear.

Things were coming together at the Barton’s. There were at least a dozen people there already and Beth could hear another car as she spoke on the phone to the pastry chef. “This is unacceptable, Maria”, she said sternly into the phone. “You should have been here by now…”

Duke sauntered in to listen to the one side of the conversation. Beth held up a finger. “Mr. Barton will be there within the half hour and…yes. Un-Huh. Well, they had better be ready. Yes, we will work this out.”

She disconnected with a sigh. “OK, Maria is ready. Late as usual. You have to go pick up the candy apples.”

Duke sighed in turn. “She knows I’d be happy to paddle her ass without needing an excuse right? She knows this.”

“It’s her process. She’s late with the pastries, you have to pick them up, she comes later with the second batch, apologizes, begs you not to punish her in front of everyone then….”

“She’s a sweetie. I’ll go now…”

“Yes, but don’t diddle too long…”

“Don’t you mean dawdle?”

She looked at him with raised eyebrow.

“Right, right….”, he said heading for the door.

“Duke”, she stopped him looking out the window onto the patio, “That couple over by the fire.” She nodded at two men huddled off to the side in animated, if muted, conversation. One was slight and wispy with thin blonde hair. The other pretty much the same but a head taller and thicker.

“Yeah, don’t know them. They came in on Buzzy’s invitation.”

“Is Buzzy here?”

“Not yet-they said he’d be here later. Nine or so…”

At that moment Buzzy Wagner was trussed up with zip ties and a ball gag in the trunk of his Audi deep in the bowels of his condo’s parking garage. He had regained consciousness and seemed fine. But he was a bad bet for nine o’clock.

(Continued…)

 

Chelsea – 6

img_3892(Continued from Blue)

He was sitting on the wicker couch, feet up on a table he had made, watching the sun slip behind the workshop. He had stayed out in the shop to give them some privacy but figured a half an hour should be enough, for Chrissakes. Still, it was an hour later and he was well into his second bourbon when the women finally joined him on the porch.

Gennie was wearing an old Steeler jersey that covered her to mid-thigh and quite probably nothing else. She smiled shyly, her green eyes alight with the sunset. Chelsea followed, more chastely attired in the robe that seemed to get passed around cinched tightly at the waist. She moved directly to the couch-to what should have been Gennie’s spot- and sat gingerly beside him, comfortably leaning close.

“Will all my spankings end like that?”

“All? What kind of mayhem do you have planned?”

“You never know the trouble a girl can get into…”

He put his arm around her and squeezed lightly. “Just don’t go delinquent on us.”

Geneva, facing away leaning against the railing, heard him say ‘us’ and her breast swelled a little. The carnal warmth she had felt between her legs spread higher.

“I think I might have oversold…remember when I told you about being gay?”

“Your ‘keep your hands off me’ speech?”

“Yeah, that one. Might have oversold that a little.”

“Oh really…”

“We’re still not having sex…”

“You got that right”, Geneva piped up still facing away.

“But a hug sometime. Like this. A touch-would be OK.”

“Something like this?” He turned and kissed the top of her head, smelling Gennie in her hair.

“Yeah…that’s fine”, she settled into him. “I’m getting the feeling you might be worthy.” Then, “Hey showoff!” Gen, feeling a little left out, had leaned against the railing far enough to clearly show that she definitely wasn’t wearing panties.

“Maybe someone else needs a spanking around here.”

“Great minds think alike”, Chelsea agreed.

“Hey”, Gennie spun back around. “Now that we’re on the subject…that paddle. Where did that come from?”

“Something I had around, is all.”

“Uh huh. For how long?”

“Quite awhile.”

“Let me ask, did that paddle cross your wife’s naked ass?”

They never really spoke of Linda but this wasn’t exactly talking about her.

“Might have, once or twice.”

“So, same paddle on your wife’s bare ass, crosses Chelsea’s bare ass…”

“Seems so, yeah.”

Chelsea, leaning still leaning against him poked him in the chest with every word. “You have to make another paddle.”

“Definitely”, said Gennie.

He reached for the bourbon. “Good point. I’ll make two.”

Gennie’s smiled wavered a bit at that but perked back up when Chelsea, settling into his chest, winked at her.

(Continuing…)

Blue

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(Continued from Chelsea – 5)

Flopping onto her back Chelsea tore her shirt off over her head. Her bra went next as Gennie, still fully clothed hovered over her.

“You have to get naked!”

“I will…when the time is right. Close your eyes”, she whispered. Chelsea did, then felt Gennie’s breath. “I love your face”, she said closely inspecting. “Nose is pointy, has that bump. Too many teeth…Fucking freckles…” Chelsea smiled, reminded of everything about her looks she couldn’t stand.

Leaning closer Geneva touched her lips to Chelsea’s and felt her mouth gap enough to allow her tongue entry. It slithered slowly over her teeth one at a time, then into her throat–Chelsea lifting her head to accept it all. “Teeth feel about right”, Gennie breathed, pulling back. “You have a problem with these too, don’t you?” She slowly kissed and allowed her teeth to brush her lozenge hard nipples, one–then the other.

Chelsea lay still and accepting. It had been over a year since she had given control over to someone else, much less submit to someone’s hand for punishment. Long months and months of having to steer her ship herself with on one else to take the tiller. It had been exhausting and she had almost reached the point where she feared she would be forever hardened. Now, in a few breathless moments, it felt as if the walls she had built around her heart had proven to be made of cotton candy that disappeared in Gennie’s mouth. There was a single tear in the corner of Chelsea’s eye.

“Are you crying again?”

“No”, she said, still not opening her eyes.

Gennie kissed her eye softly, then the other; gently puffing her lips against the closed lids while sliding her hand up the inside of her thigh. “You have to toughen up, girl…” Chelsea whimpered like a desert wanderer finally reaching an oasis when Gennie slipped her hand further to cup her damp pussy. Immediately, as if charged, she arched her back allowing her body to beg ‘please’ even if her mouth said nothing.

Feeling the urgency Geneva slid down her body teasing her tongue at her belly button then the top of her mound-loving the mouthfuls of wiry hair that, in her imagination, even tasted of strawberry. She didn’t linger long though sliding down to lap her way into the warm place between Chelsea’s thighs. She knew her vagina the way school kids know the path home. Her clit was obvious-pulsing and ready as she touched it with her tongue, first gently, then not. Chelsea moaned and whispered her name. Gennie pulled out and slipped her hands under Chelsea’s bottom, then to her thighs to push her legs upward and to bring her tight little asshole within easy reach. “Owwww”, Chelsea gasped when Gennie’s tongue touched her there.

“Did you bring Blue with you?” She asked.

Chelsea wriggled feeling her breath tickling her bottom. “Uh…sure. In the bedstand…”

Gennie rolled off the bed and tossed her shirt aside, keeping the black T-shirt. She had bought Blue for Chelsea as kind of a joke when they were together and Chel complained that they didn’t spend enough time in bed. The joke turned into the gift that kept on giving and had been Chelsea’s most dependable lover over the past year. Gennie found the dildo easily in the drawer beside the bottle of lube. Blue wasn’t one of those over-the-top creations. Named for his color, he was of average length, average thickness, two hard average size balls at the base. Average was good, considering where he was going.

Chelsea watched, sleepily attentive, legs bent, one hand playing gently at her mound as if tending a smoldering fire. She caught the look in Gen’s eyes.

“You’re not going to….”

“I figured your butt was already sore.”

“It’s been a while Gen. A long while.”

“I won’t if you don’t want to.”

“I definitely want you to…”

Gennie hopped back onto the bed and allowed Chelsea’s hand to guide her head-first to her clit-then under her own power, down to the magic button. Chelsea’s head lolled to the side and she pulled her knees back giving her lover easy access. She hissed at the feel of her tongue, then the cool lube drizzling over her asshole. She then felt Blue there-bumping and pressing. Testing.

The first push stung, it always had, then burned as he burrowed in. But the pain didn’t last. She felt her bottom open and the well-oiled machine push inside, filling her. But because Gennie was a wicked little lover she didn’t push it all the way in at once.  She slid up her body and used her weight to pin one of Chelsea’s long legs to her breast relishing the feel of dominating one who really couldn’t be dominated. From above she watched her eyes as she slowly and carefully pushed the dildo inside-then back-then inside further-then back-then again.

“You’re killing me…” Chelsea whispered looking anything but distressed.

“Shhhh…” whispered Gennie subtly leaning into her, pegging her slowly, until Blue’s two firm balls bumped against her bottom. To ensure a goodly fit, Gennie twisted it gently, back and forth, drawing answering hisses and moans. She kissed her closed mouth and slid back down, chin to balls with Blue and found Chelsea’s pulsing pearl anxious for her return.

She nibbled it gently and flicked her tongue across it once, then again, keeping contact as Chelsea rose bridging up onto her shoulders. Gennie lapped quickly as the rising moans became a coughing keening until, in a spattering jolt, she came her-body tensed in a high arch above the bed and Gennie risen on her knees wearing Chelsea’s pussy like an oxygen mask. Not until she had spurted her last and slowly collapsed flat on her back, did Gennie pull her slick, shiny face away.

“Feeling better big girl?” she smiled.

“Can’t…feel…anything…”

She kissed her belly and put a hand under her bottom to help flop her onto her side. Moving her like a doll she bent her top leg, exposing the bright blue balls attached to her asshole. Then very slowly, very deliberately, millimeter by electric millimeter, she began withdrawing what seemed like five feet of Blue from Chelsea’s rectum. For her part, Chelsea moaned into a pillow, sure her insides would follow. Then, with a soft POP he was gone and she felt weightless and empty. “Stay right there, love,” Gennie said, patting her upturned rump.

In the washroom she stripped quickly, pausing to pull her stickily sodden panties off carefully. Naked, she let the water run to steam and prepared a plush washcloth. Chelsea hadn’t moved and Gen sat on the bed beside her and patted her lap. Chelsea flopped face down-a weightless rag doll.

She ministered again to her bottom, gently wiping the bruises, the space between her cheeks and the warm wet space below. Then dropping her cloth she rolled Chelsea onto her back. This time, Gennie felt her firm grip and opened to it, falling into her arms and returning her hard kiss. As she fit her body firmly in place Chelsea wrapped her legs around her as the room filled with the power of the two. They joined as a single trembling being, their lovemaking pushing the air itself out through the cracks and crevices in the walls and floor.

There was nothing in the dim light of the warm room but them-as one.

(Continued…)

Chelsea – 5

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(Continued from Chelsea – 4)

 

Geneva knocked lightly on the door.

“Come in”, she muffled. Chelsea was on the bed, laying on her side facing the window. She was fully clothed, but for her boots.

“You OK?”

“Sure”, she sniffed. The wall against her tears had evidently collapsed on the way up to her room. “My ass burns like hell.”

“I bet.” Geneva sat on the bed and handed the tube of salve over her shoulder. “He sent me to give this to you.  Apparently, it’s for burns, sunburn…he said it would help.”

“Thoughtful.”

Geneva rubbed her shoulder. “Sorry Chel…”

“Wasn’t your fault”, she sighed and handed the tube back. “What did he say?”

“When?”

“When he sent you up with this stuff.”

“Oh…he said, that I should…take care of you. That you’d want to see me…But I can leave…”

“Come on,” she almost snickered as she undid her belt. “Take care of me then.” She unsnapped, unzipped and pushed her jeans and underwear down to her knees, rolling onto her belly.

“Yeeouch”, Gennie said tentatively touching the double bulls-eye bruises on Chelsea’s bottom. “Has to hurt…” She squeezed a dollop of lotion onto her right cheek and rubbed gently.

“It hurts for sure, but guess what I won’t be doing anymore?”

“What?”

“Smoking anywhere near the workshop.”

“Guess it worked then. But I don’t know how you could stand it!

“Sometimes it’s easier to take a beating than to live with the disappointment.”

“Huh?…What?…I’m sorry.” Gennie was only half listening, distracted by the feel of Chelsea’s hot bottom under her slick, ministering fingers. Her skin mounded and crested as she massaged from the inside out allowing peeks of the treasures barely hidden in her cracks and creases.

“Remember the way he looked at me when he got out of the truck? That ‘you let me down look?’ I’d rather have my ass beat every day of the week than live with that.”

“I think I remember that…” Gennie said remembering her own spanking.

“Complicated”, Chelsea said.

“Truly…”

Geneva rubbed in circles, first one cheek then the other. She dabbed more lotion and widened her circles to the small of her back and then down to the tops of Chelsea’s thighs-places the paddle hadn’t touched. Her hands navigated the lithe body like a well-remembered but seldom trod path.  “Mmmm…that’s nice” Chelsea said into the pillow. As if awaiting a signal, Geneva allowed her hand and it’s exploring fingers to slide between her cheeks and rub up over her tight little button and further down between her legs. Chelsea began to wriggle at the touch.

“Would you do something for me?”

“If I can.”

“Slip my plants the rest of the way off.”

Geneva smiled ruefully watching her finger tease its way up the crevasse between the mottled cheeks. “I don’t know if that’s what he had in mind.”

“He sent you up here to rub lotion on my bare butt. He didn’t say just to bring me the salve, did he? What do you think he had in mind?”

“But you know he and I are…”

“Jesus! Don’t say it. You think I don’t know? This is a big house but not that big. I hear you guys at it every night.”

“Not every night!”

“Sometimes twice a night!”

Geneva giggled like a kid and took the bottom of Chelsea’s butt cheek in hand to knead it gently, her thumb playing at the soft spot just inside her thigh. “I just don’t know…” she stopped herself frustrated, but Chelsea would have none of it.

“Look, I can’t-not with your hands on me like this, imagine you leaving me here alone with my pants off and having to rub one off again. That’s all I do! Alone in my room while you make crazy love down the hall. I’m like a nun in here. Come on Gen-don’t make me beg! I know you don’t…feel about me the way I could about you. But you like me well enough don’t you?”

“Of course I like you well enough…”

“You don’t hate me do you?”

Chelsea was so engrossed in her pleading that she didn’t immediately feel her jeans being pulled over her feet. “Jesus, when did you become such a drama queen?”

“Celibacy makes cowards of us all”, Chelsea said allowing her legs, unbound by her jeans and panties, to fall open.

“May I never find that out”, Geneva said. Then, with a well-aimed and light smack on the bottom, “Roll over. I’ve seen enough of your narrow ass for one day.”

(Continuing…)

 

Chelsea – 4

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(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.”

“What? Me…Why…?”

“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.

“Yeah, sure.”

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.

“You OK?”

“Yeah…Jeeze…”

“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.”

(Continuing…)