Trying to deceive their mother works out badly for two sisters
Saturday morning, and two sisters, Eleanor, aged nineteen, and Cynthia aged seventeen, were on their way into town to go round the shops, and also for Eleanor to meet her boyfriend, Eric, without her mother knowing. She had been banned by her mother from seeing him as she considered him to be totally unsuitable for her. The girls went into the park to be away from prying eyes and to wait for Eric. Punctual to the minute, Eric arrived and Cynthia went off to the shops. Later in the morning, Cynthia went off home.
“Where have you been?” Asked her mother, as Cynthia entered the kitchen.
“To the shops,” replied Cynthia.
“Is that all?” demanded mum.
“Are you sure you’re telling me everything?”
“Yes Mum. Just the shops. Why do you keep asking?” Demanded Cynthia.
“To make sure that you’re telling lies,” replied her mother, drying her hands on the towel.
“I’m not telling lies,” replied Cynthia. “I’ve been to the shops.”
“I asked you if that was all and you’ve lied to me, haven’t you?” Said mum, raising her voice.
“I don’t know what you mean,” replied Cynthia.
“Don’t you come the innocent with me, young lady. You were seen in the park with your sister and that boy.”
“Who says so?” Demanded Cynthia.
“Oh, that nosey old cow,” said Cynthia.
“How dare you speak like that about a neighbor,” exploded mum.
“Well so she is; can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business,” said Cynthia.
“Right young lady, that’s enough. Fetch the slipper.”
From past experience, Cynthia knew it was useless to argue once the order had been given. She stalked out of the room, went to the cupboard under the stairs and took out a thick plastic soled carpet slipper. Over the years, this item had become well acquainted with Cynthia’s and Eleanor’s bottoms. She took it to her mother, who had now moved to the lounge.
“You girls will never learn, will you? Bend over,” said her mother, smacking her hand with the slipper.
Cynthia bent over, hands around her ankles, her pale green slacks tightening across her bottom. Her mother got into position and delivered the first whack with some force.
“Oooww,” gasped Cynthia.
You needn’t think you’re getting away with this lightly,” said her mother angrily.
“I’m sorry, mum,” said Cynthia.
“Too late for that. You’ll be very sorry by the time I’ve finished with you.”
The slipper rose and fell for another seven swipes, bringing increasingly anguished cries and finally tears from poor Cynthia.
“Get up and take this back,” said her mother.
Cynthia took the slipper, returned it to its place and then ran up the stairs, crying and rubbing her bottom.
It was sometime later that Eleanor arrived home. She went in by the back door and looked around to find some sign of life. She looked into the hall and saw her mum on the phone, so she went upstairs to her bedroom, which she shared with Cynthia.
“You okay?” She asked Cynthia, who was still lying on the bed.
“Yes, I am now.”
“What do you mean, am now, what’s happened?”
Cynthia got up from the bed, undid her slacks and pulled them down along with her knickers. “That’s what.”
“Oh no, you’ve been slippered,” gasped Eleanor.
“Yes I have and you’ll get worse when she gets hold of you.”
“What for?” Asked Eleanor, as Cynthia pulled up her knickers and slacks.
“Because I was seen with you and Eric and I lied about it.”
“Oh Cindy, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok, you weren’t to know.”
“How did she find out?”
“That nosey cow Parker saw us.”
“I might have known. So how many did you get?”
“How many?” Exclaimed Eleanor, a look of horror on her face.
“Nine, and I reckon you’ll get at least a dozen. It really did hurt, Ele.”
“I’m sure it did.”
“I should put something down your knickers, if I were you,” suggested Cynthia.
“I should, but if she spots it I’m really for it. I think I’ll just take what’s coming.”
Eleanor didn’t have to wait long before a voice called from the bottom of the stairs.
“Eleanor, get down here at once.”
“Wish me luck,” she said to Cynthia.
“You’ll need it,” replied Cynthia.
Eleanor started to descend the stairs and straight away noticed the slipper in her mum’s hand.
“Get in the lounge,” said her mum, grabbing Eleanor by the arm and forcing her towards the lounge.
“You know why you’re here don’t you?” Snapped her mum.
“You’re determined to defy me, Eleanor, aren’t you?”
“Yes I am. I don’t know what you’ve got against Eric. He’s a nice boy and I love him,” said Eleanor defiantly.
“Don’t talk rot. You don’t know the meaning of the word,” snorted her mum.
“Yes I do, I’m nineteen and I’m not a child,” replied Eleanor angrily.
“You are as far as I’m concerned. Now bend over. I’m going to give you something to remember.”
Eleanor bent over, more out of defiance than obedience.
Mum got into position and drew back the slipper as far as she could and brought it down as hard as she could.
“Oooow,” gasped Eleanor.
The slippering continued, whack followed whack, and Cynthia could hear Eleanor’s cries of pain as she counted the number of whacks.
As Cynthia predicted, Eleanor’s sore and painful bottom received twelve stinging whacks. She was about to stand up when mum’s sharp voice said: “Stay where you are, I haven’t finished with you yet. I’m making this a baker’s dozen.”
“Yeeooowww,” screamed Eleanor, leaping up from her position and grabbing her backside. Through tear-filled eyes she saw the look of thunder on her mother’s face.
“If you see that boy again, you’ll get fifteen next time and I’ll go increasing it until you see sense,” said mum.
Despite her acute distress, Eleanor remained defiant. “You can beat me as hard and long as you like, I’ll never give him up.”
“We’ll see about that,” sneered mum. “Now go to your room.”
Rubbing her bottom and crying, Eleanor left the room and went back upstairs. She sat down on her bed and Cynthia came over and put her arms around her.
“Thirteen, you poor, poor, thing,” said Cynthia.
“I don’t care, she can do what she likes, I’m not giving Eric up,” sobbed Eleanor.
© Lisamum 2016