Disobedience has a painful result.
By Robert Gunn
“What do you mean, I’m still grounded? I did everything you said. It was only supposed to last until after mid-terms!”
“As far as we’re concerned, the tests aren’t over until the grades are posted next week. You can hold out until then.”
Megan had moved to New York from London on a ‘study abroad’ program a few months previously, and had celebrated her new found freedom by partying hard and studying little. As a result, she’d been in danger of flunking out of Columbia University and being sent home.
Her ‘host parents’, Tom and Diane, with whom she’d been living and whose rules had been a thorn in her side ever since her arrival, had spanked her and grounded her until after her mid-term examinations, and she had to admit that it was exactly what she needed. She had buckled down, studied hard, and was sure that she had done well on the tests. Now, after two weeks of hard labor, she was anxious to celebrate her success.
“You’ve complied with our rules and I’m proud of you,” Tom said, “but you lack self discipline, as you’ve already admitted, and if you want more freedom you’ll have to earn it. We’ll give you back your cell phone and let you use your laptop for recreational purposes for one hour a day, but until we see those test scores you’ll continue to go nowhere other than classes, the library, and home. Do I make myself clear, young lady?”
“Yes, sir,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Try that again without the attitude, unless you want me to spank you right now.”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a civil tone. Tom returned her phone, and she went upstairs to her room.
* * *
“Yes, Bea, I know that it’s been a long time, but they took my phone and I didn’t dare message you on my tablet.” She blushed. “If they’d caught me, they would’ve spanked me again!” Megan was talking with her best friend in London on her newly returned cell phone.
“Yes, I said again, and they bloody well grounded me too. But it worked out for the best. I would’ve failed my examinations if they hadn’t made it impossible to do anything other than study. But they said they’d lift the grounding after the exams, and they’re finished! Now they say that I’m still grounded until after the results are released next week. It’s so unfair!
“Everyone in my accounting class is going to a party tonight, and I’ll be stuck here. Well, enough is enough. I’ve hardly been out of this house in a fortnight and I’ve earned a bit of freedom. No, I’m not going to steal their car again! I’m not a fool. No, they don’t have a cane. There’s a wicked looking paddle, but I’m not going to get caught. I have a plan.”
* * *
At eleven o’clock, Megan slipped into the hall in jeans, a leather jacket, and sneakers, with a pen light illuminating her path. She closed the door to her room silently and padded down the hall, walking heel to toe against the wall to avoid creaky floorboards.
This wasn’t her first rodeo. Megan had been sneaking out of her parents’ house in London since she was sixteen, and prided herself on her expertise. When she’d tried it with Tom and Diane before, she’d been too cocky and careless. She put her hand on her bottom. She wouldn’t make that mistake twice.
Megan paused and listened at Tom and Diane’s bedroom door, and could hear Tom softly snoring. She knew that they’d be dead to the world until six, at which point she’d be back in bed with none the wiser. All she wanted was a couple of hours of freedom and she’d be on her best behavior until the grounding was over.
She crept down the stairs as softly as a cat, stepping over the creaky third and sixth steps. Megan had studied her escape route and knew the danger zones by heart. She made her way silently across the house to the downstairs window that was farthest from her host parents’ bedroom.
Getting in and out of the window was the riskiest part of her plan, but Tom and Diane had made sure that she’d never get hold of the house keys without their permission again, which meant that if she left through the door she’d have to leave it unlocked. That would put her host parents’ safety at risk, and she would never do that. She was actually rather fond of them.
She turned the latch and pushed the window up. It slid quietly, as she knew it would after testing it earlier. Now, only the window screen stood between her and freedom.
This could be the make or break point of her plan. She hadn’t dared to practice removing it while Tom and Diane were awake, and she had no clue as to how much noise it would make.
She slid the latches with her thumbs and pushed the bottom of the screen. It came loose with an audible pop, and there was a bit of scraping as she slid it out and leaned it against the outside wall of the house, but it wasn’t as loud as she’d feared it would be.
Megan counted to fifty as she listened for signs that Tom had gotten up to investigate, but the house was silent. She exhaled and smiled. She hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath.
She slipped out and placed a butter knife beneath the window to hold it open a crack before she closed it, crossed the lawn quickly, and walked casually down the sidewalk to her classmate’s car, which was parked two blocks down the street as she’d arranged. Then she got in and they drove away.
* * *
At three o’clock in the morning, a taxi dropped Megan off at the corner where her friends had picked her up and she walked back to the house. Everyone else in her group had gotten too blotto to drive so, after enjoying a few beers herself, she’d called a cab. There was no way she was going to risk a drunk driving charge.
She crossed the yard along the fence line, where trees blocked the street light and moonlight, and when she reached the house she peeked in a window. No lights were on and no one was in sight, so she turned on her pen light and made her way to her exit and entry window. She looked in again, and when she felt that it was safe to do so she pushed up on the top of the window frame. It didn’t budge.
She took a wider stance and heaved with all her strength without effect. When she bent down to examine the bottom of the window she saw that the knife was gone and that there was no longer a crack.
‘Oh my God,’ she thought, ‘I’ve been caught!’
Megan had seen Tom’s huge paddle demonstrated on a couch cushion and it had scared her half to death. Getting spanked on the bottom with that monstrosity was too horrible to think about.
Her only chance, and it was a slim one, was to find another means of entrance, sneak past the vigilant watch they were no doubt keeping, and convince them that she’d been in bed the whole time and that a burglar must have jimmied the window and been frightened off before he could steal anything. Her odds of success were about as good as her chances of winning the lottery, but it was the only plan she could come up with.
She walked around the house trying the windows, all of which were locked. When she came to the backdoor and looked into the dark kitchen, no one was in sight. Then she saw the hairbrush and paddle laying on the kitchen table. The outside light came on and Tom opened the door, took her by the ear, and pulled her inside.
He released her, and Diane came out of the hall and leaned against the kitchen doorway in her robe and slippers, scowling. Tom took Megan by the shoulders, held her at arms length, and gave her a long, hard look.
“Welcome home,” he said, and let her go. He and Diane sat down at the kitchen table where the ominous spanking implements were located, and told her to, “come here.”
Megan sucked in her breath and went like a condemned woman on her last walk to stand in front of them. She knew and feared the cane. Could this huge paddle be even more excruciating?
“I can’t believe you did this,” Tom said. “I sleep like a log, but Diane thought she heard something and made me get up to investigate. I was relieved to find that there was no one in the house, but I checked all the locks to be on the safe side and found the window that you’d blocked open.
You snuck out again, and came home with beer on your breath. Was your driver drunk?”
“No sir, I took a cab, I swear!”
“You’d better be telling the truth. If I find out you’re lying you’ll get a second spanking, and you’re really going to get it as it is. ‘No unsafe behavior’ is our strictest rule.
When we grounded you, I told you that if you didn’t comply with the grounding rules there’d be hell to pay. Pull down your jeans and get over my knee right now.”
Despite her fear, Megan didn’t hesitate. She pulled her jeans down, went to him, and bent over his left knee with her toes touching the floor and her head hanging down. Tom hooked his right leg over hers, wrapped his left arm securely around her waist, and picked up the hairbrush.
“Megan, do you agree that you deserve this spanking?”
“Yes sir, I know that I do. I promised to obey your rules in order to be allowed to continue to live here and pursue my studies, and I broke my word after only a fortnight. I also agreed to accept corporal punishment if I disobeyed you, and I know that I deserve to ‘really get it’, as you put it. I expect to be soundly punished.”
“Right,” Tom said, and patted her right cheek twice with the back of the brush. Then he lifted it high and brought it down hard with a wrist snap. There was a resounding ‘crack,’ and Megan jumped and gasped at the searing pain.
Tom continued to smack her behind once every two seconds, alternating cheeks and covering every inch of her bottom. Megan’s light blue, French-cut panties provided little protection, and left her sit spots bare.
After ten swats he quickened the pace to two spanks a second while she kicked and cried, and after two minutes, when her bottom was crimson and radiating heat, he stopped and set down the brush.
Tom patted her bottom, let her cry for a few minutes, and said, “I’m by no means done with you, young lady. When we punished you last time I told you that if you ever snuck out and broke curfew again I’d paddle you, and I don’t make idle threats. Stand up.”
Megan fumbled her way off his lap. Her behind was burning, but she didn’t dare rub it for fear of extra punishment. Her eyes were wet, but she had stopped crying.
“Please sir, don’t you think that I’ve been punished enough? Even Diane didn’t spank me that hard, and I couldn’t sit down after she was done. You have a strong arm, sir”
“I’m sorry too, Megan, but we let you off easy last time and it didn’t work.” He picked up the paddle. “Bend over with your belly on the table and grab the other side.” She eased herself into position, already holding back tears.
“Don’t move when you’re being swatted,” he said. “This thing is heavy, and I could injure you if I hit you in the wrong place. Take a wider stance.” Megan moved her feet apart and grabbed the edge of the table.
Tom patted her bottom with the paddle twice, hauled it back, and hit her full force. Megan gasped and rose up on her toes. Her backside felt like a sadistic doctor had given her a hundred injections at once, and burned like her panties were on fire.
She squeezed the edge of the table until her knuckles were white, and she was breathing heavily. Then, POP! The paddle landed again, driving in more needles and fanning the flames. There was a throbbing ache in her butt muscles.
The paddle hit her again and again every four seconds on the same spot each time. Megan’s bottom was small, though nicely rounded, and the board was broad enough to cover most of it. It was almost like getting a complete spanking with every swat. After the first four she was crying hard, and Tom paused.
“Two more, Megan,” he said. “Hang in there.” The last swats landed rapid fire and were the hardest of all.
Megan could control herself no longer, and jumped up, grabbed her behind, and dancing like she was barefoot on a scorching New York sidewalk in August. Tom set the paddle down and hugged her.
“Megan, I hate being that severe with you, but sometimes you need it. I trust that we’ll never have to do this again.” She pushed herself back and looked in his eyes through her tears.
“Never ever!” She sobbed. “I know that I deserved it, but I don’t want to be paddled like that ever again! It was a lesson I’ll never forget, and I’m very sorry for my behavior.” Tom hugged her again and let her go.
“Alright Megan, go to your room and get some sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” She pulled up her jeans and walked up the stairs rubbing her bottom.
* * *
Megan closed the door to her room, pulled down her pants and panties, and looked over her shoulder at the full length mirror behind her. Every inch of her backside was deep red, with magenta patches that were bruises in the making. Sitting down would be an ordeal for days.
She flopped on the bed on her stomach and remembered what it was like to be caned severely by her father. Beatrice had once asked her which she thought would hurt the most, the cane or the American paddle. Now that she was in a position to judge for herself she couldn’t decide.
They were excruciating in different ways. One felt like it was going to cut you in two, the other felt like it was going to break you in two. But she vowed never to do anything to earn either one again. Never ever!
© Robert Gunn 2018