Trespassers May Be Prosecuted

     A little misadventure has big consequences

By Penny Morton

Eighteen-year-old Ann Simpson was completing an English essay and keeping an eye on Tommy the family’s new kitten. It was a warm Saturday afternoon in May and the French doors were open.  A few minutes previously Ann had seen Tommy in the garden. Suddenly aware that he was missing, she anxiously combed the garden looking for him. She would be in trouble if he wasn’t home when her parents returned from shopping.

Ann heard a plaintive mewing coming from down the lane past her house. Following the sound and calling Tommy, she spotted him up a tree in the garden of a house a few doors down. Tommy’s tree was close to the garden wall which Ann began to climb over. A section just beside her became dislodged and a large chunk of brickwork tumbled to the ground.

“Oh gosh Tommy what have I done? I should have asked permission first! I hope nobody’s seen me! They’ll be furious if they have!” She experienced a cold shiver running down her spine as a crop of goose pimples fanned out across her bottom. If Daddy found out what she had done it would definitely mean a spanking and possibly a strapping. Tears of anxiety formed in her eyes.

Tommy seemed to be unable to get down.  Ann climbed the tree to reach him, scratching her bare knees on the bark. She just managed to reach him and held him in both hands held close to her body. He struggled, but she held him tightly, easing herself back towards the ground. She was suddenly conscious of a pair of strong hands grasping her round the waist.

“Eeek!” Squeaked Ann in a mixture of surprise and fear. Looking round she saw young man not much older than herself.

“Caught in the act,” said the young man helping her down. “Mum wondered who had been trespassing in our garden and damaging our brickwork. We thought it was a couple of boys we’d seen locally, never thinking it was a girl.”

“I am very sorry.” Said Ann. “I’ve never climbed over your wall before. I should have asked first.” She rubbed her cheek against the purring kitten and then gasped as she stepped back and her bare legs were stung by a clump of nettles.

“Ow! Gosh the nettles sting. Thank goodness you’re safe darling,” she said, nuzzling the kitten. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had got lost or been run over. You’re a very naughty boy to go missing.” Ann briefly rubbed her tingling legs with one hand as the kitten settled down.

“Right, young lady, what shall we do about your trespass and damage?” Pondered the young man. “Mum’s out. If she’d been here she would probably call the police and have you arrested and prosecuted.”

“Please not the police!” Gasped Ann. “Whatever would my parents say?”  Daddy would go berserk if the police were involved. She would never live it down and probably never be able to sit down again.

A tear trickled down each cheek. If the police came she would be unable to finish her English essay. Miss Sinker, the English Mistress, had promised a Saturday morning detention for any girl late with her essay and she had to revise for a Latin test. A detention or a bad Latin test mark would trigger a note home and a spanking.

“Then there’s the damage done to the wall.” The young man continued. “It looks like several hundred pounds’ worth of damage to me. We’ll have to send the bill to you or your parents, of course.”

Ann felt cold and shivery. Her future looked worse by the minute. She had just twenty-five pounds in her savings account.

“Come into the kitchen while we decide what to do with you. I’m John Watson, by the way, and you are?”

“Ann, er, Ann Simpson.” Sobbed Ann. “I’m at the High School.”

John looked at the tearful girl; he felt briefly sorry for her but she had caused damage even though the wall had been falling down for some time.  Somebody would have to pay. He led her gently, still carrying Tommy, into the kitchen.

John perched on a kitchen stool, leaving Ann standing anxiously holding the naughty kitten. The girl was rather attractive, he thought. Her fair hair rested on her shoulders and she had rather nice blue-green eyes, even if they were full of tears.  She was wearing a pair of white shorts and a white blouse, both ideal for the spring weather. John noticed Ann had a nice figure; her blouse and her shorts might be said to be ‘well-filled.’  Her boobs pushed out at the front of her blouse and she had one of the nicest bottoms he had seen.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before haven’t I?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m your paper girl.” Said Ann, drying her eyes.

“You bring the daily and the Sunday papers, don’t you?”

“Yes – making sure I’m not late for girls’ choir on Sunday.”

“Do you enjoy singing?”

“Yes, but Mr Foster, the choirmaster, is very strict though.”

“H’m that’s interesting.” Said John.

Church was actually a bit of a trial for Ann. The family, including Ann, attended both services every Sunday. Mr Foster had punished her on several occasions for musical mistakes by whacking her hands with his nasty plastic ruler. She was also required to give her devout parents a verbal summary of the vicar’s sermon.  If she couldn’t remember the important points, a spanking was sure to follow, usually on Monday, as her father didn’t give spankings on the Sabbath.

Ann took secret notes to help her memory during the sermon.  She had been spotted by the eagle-eyed Mr Foster breaking his rules for good behaviour in choirgirls.  A note from him said: ‘Ann, see me at the end of the service.’

After the choir had been dismissed, Mr Foster gave her a long telling off and a choice between his ruler or being reported to her parents. Ann chose Mr Foster’s ruler and received six intensely stinging whacks on the palm of each hand.

“Misbehave in Church again, Ann.” He warned. “And I’ll use my ruler on your bottom.”

“Oh golly, er, yes Mr Foster. I’m sorry.” She had whispered.

“OK.” Said John, glancing at his watch. “Let’s discuss what we’ll do with you, Ann.”

“May I apologise?” She asked politely. “I’m sorry I came into your garden without permission and for the damage I have done? I promise I’ll never, ever, do it again.”

“Being sorry isn’t enough. You must be punished.” John frowned and looked into the anxious face of the girl facing him. “Perhaps I should report your naughtiness to your parents?”

“Please no.” Pleaded Ann. “My parents are terribly old-fashioned and strict and they will go mad if they find out what happened. Thank goodness they’re out at the moment.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t go mad.” Commented John, rather stimulated by the girl’s distress and the thought of her being punished.

“No, but Daddy would definitely whack me.”

“He whacks you when you’re a naughty girl?” John was fascinated and wanted to know more.

“Yes he does.” Ann said quietly, blushing deeply.

“Tell me more.” Said John.

“Well I still get spanked over Daddy’s knee and occasionally by Mummy for what they call ‘minor offences’. If I’ve been really naughty I get the strap, er, on my bottom. Mummy’s got a little wooden butter pat thing she spanks me with so she doesn’t damage her fingernails. It really stings and so does the strap.”

“Right then, Ann, I’d better take you home to be spanked, strapped or butter-patted then, hadn’t I?”

“Please no.” Pleaded Ann.

“You would rather I didn’t report you to my mother or your parents?”

“Please don’t tell them.” Pleaded Ann, hugging her kitten more closely.

“You will still have to be punished in some way and pay for the damage.”

“Please could you let me off just this once?” Pleaded Ann, her relief fast sinking away. “I really didn’t mean to cause any damage and I’ve never been in the garden before.”

“No, you must be punished in some way.” John continued. “I know from my school if you let juniors off they think you are a soft touch. I’ll give you a choice of being punished by me or I can call the police.”

“Please not the police. What punishment would you give me?”

“Corporal punishment.” Replied John, feasting his eyes on the girl’s bottom and smooth thighs enclosed in her well fitting shorts.

“You mean a spanking – that sort of thing?” Ann asked.

“Er, yes. Of course the spanking would just be for trespassing. I can’t punish you for the damage ‘till I know the cost. The more the damage, the more severe your punishment will have to be.”

Ann shivered and held the kitten against her cheek. She asked: “Would it be a really hard spanking and how many spanks would I get?”

“What would your father give you for trespassing?”

“He’d probably give me twenty-four whacks.” She replied honestly.

“Right, well, I would also give you twenty-four hard spanks. That’s fair isn’t it?”

“Well yes I, er, suppose so.” Replied Ann slightly doubtfully.

“Right, Ann.” Said John briskly. “You can have a choice; either I take you home for punishment or you accept a spanking from me. Which would you like?”

“Gosh, er, I, Oh golly.”

“Hurry up, girl, we haven’t got all day.” Said John, longing to give this luscious girl a really good spanking.

“Sorry, er, could I have, er, a spanking from you please?”

“OK. Right, take the kitten home and shut him up somewhere and then come back to be spanked. Be sure to come back; if you don’t, I’ll come and see your parents.”

“Yes, I’ll come straight back.” Promised Ann.

“Don’t put any exercise books down your shorts or an extra pair of pants on, will you?”

“No, I promise.”

Such deception never entered her head. She climbed back over the wall, dislodging a little more masonry in the process. Ann walked quickly home with the kitten and put him safely in the kitchen. She went to the bathroom to freshen up. Her bottom tingled expectantly. She hoped a spanking from John wouldn’t hurt too much. Her parents didn’t like her talking to boys. Being spanked by a boy might be different to talking to one in their eyes as she wasn’t getting friendly or going on a date.

With her heart pounding, Ann tapped nervously on John’s front door.

“Come with me, Ann.” Said John, as he opened the front door. “You had better start calling me ‘sir’ as you are going to be punished by me.”

“Where are we going, sir?” Asked Ann, feeling apprehensive.

“To the potting shed; it’s nice and quiet.” Replied John, anxious that his mother might return home unexpectedly and catch him dealing with the girl.

He steered Ann through the kitchen and out of the back door, stopping outside a large wooden shed in the garden.  He opened the door and went to move forward.

“I don’t want to go in here, sir.” Said Ann, stopping suddenly in her tracks.

“You’re not getting out of your punishment.” John sounded rather cross. He was determined to spank her and didn’t want anything stopping him.

“I’m not trying to get out of it, sir. I know I deserve to be punished. I’m scared there might be some spiders in there.”

Ann tried to walk backwards and he gripped her by the seat of her shorts and pushed her gently but firmly forwards. Her plump bottom left little of the material of her shorts with which to get a grip. Ann was conscious of the strong fingers holding her and her shorts tightening round her thighs and bottom. She was also conscious of a shivery sensation in her bottom which ran up her spine.

Still holding Ann by the seat of her shorts, John shut the door of the potting shed and locked it from the inside. The shed smelled rather fusty and had numerous large cobwebs in the dusty windows. There were two old chairs, a table, a work-bench and numerous shelves with plant pots and other garden equipment. Ann shivered anxiously.

“Right, I’m going to put you over my knee.” Announced John, releasing his grip on her shorts as he seated himself on an old wooden chair. “Bend over my knee!”

Ann quickly lowered herself over John’s knees; her hands steadied her front end on the floor. She was quite experienced at bending over like this. Her thighs hung down the other side of John’s lap and her plump bottom was very conveniently placed for a spanking. John’s left hand rested on Ann’s waist and his right hand, his spanking hand, patted her bottom as he assessed its consistency.

“Right.” Said John, conscious of the girl’s soft body resting on his legs. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Replied Ann, longing to get the spanking over.

Spank! John’s hand landed on Ann’s bottom; it stung his fingers and must have hurt the recipient’s bottom as he heard her gasp and say: “Ouch,” quietly.

Spank! Spank! Spank! John’s hand landed solidly, and, as his confidence increased, so did the force of his spanks. The spanking was punctuated by further gasps and ‘Ow’s’ from the naughty girl.

After twelve spanks, John paused.

“Are you OK, Ann?” He asked.

“Er, yes, thank you, sir.” Ann had never been asked how she was during a spanking before. Her parents just spanked away.

“How is your bottom?”

“It really stings sir.” Replied Ann, who was feeling very warm indeed. Tears were forming in her eyes.

“Good!” Said John unsympathetically. “You really have been a very naughty girl, haven’t you?”

“Yes sir.” Agreed Ann, meekly realising her punishment was far from over.

“Right.” Said John as he started spanking again.

“Ow!” Squeaked Ann, as the thirteenth spank landed extra heavily on her tender right buttock. Moving her thighs in distress, she squirmed on John’s lap, producing an interesting sensation for the spanker, who gripped her more tightly with his left hand.

Eleven more hard spanks landed on Ann’s delectable bottom and all too soon for John the twenty-four stroke sentence was complete.

Before letting Ann stand, John gave her one last spank saying: “One for luck! You can get up.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ann got quickly to her feet and her hands immediately went to sooth her burning bottom. Her face was hot and a few beads of perspiration could be seen on her forehead and upper lip. John also noticed that her lips were trembling and there were tears in her eyes, but she just managed not to cry.

“Has that taught you a lesson and reminded you never to trespass again?” Asked John, greatly regretting that the spanking had finished just as he was getting into his stride.

“Yes it has, thank you sir. I promise I won’t do it again.”

“Okay but don’t forget that you haven’t been punished for the damage you caused, but only for your trespass. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. When will you know about the damage, sir?”

“I’ll put a note through your door.”

“Oh no please don’t do that, sir!” Pleaded Ann with a sob. “I have to show Mummy any letters I get.” Ann was still rubbing her bottom carefully with both hands as if she was mapping out and soothing those areas which hurt the most.

“Alright, er, well you had better knock on our door and ask for me when you bring the paper next Saturday. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well you better go home and make sure the kitten is OK.”

“Yes, thank you, sir.” Ann managed a little smile.

She was a plucky girl, thought John as she went towards the front gate, still gently touching her bottom. Her bottom must be stinging; his fingers still tingled from spanking her. He hoped it would not be too long before he could deal with that superb bottom again.

Ann tapped on the Watson’s front door the following Saturday when she delivered their newspaper. John answered her knock. She was wearing her High School uniform; a dark blue blazer, a white blouse, a blue and white tie and a grey pleated miniskirt. White socks came up to her knees from sensible black shoes.

“Have you heard any more about the wall, sir?” Ann said quietly.

“Yes, it’s going to cost four hundred pounds to repair.” Said John.

The figure was a shock to Ann. She had only twenty-five pounds in her post office account. Her parents made her put half her paper round wages in the church collection, leaving her with a weekly balance of 25p after she had bought her guinea pig’s food.

“So that’s four hundred pounds you and your kitten owe us for damaging our wall, Ann.” John announced, knowing that Ann couldn’t possibly pay and that he would have to exact retribution from her in some other way. He thought that the ‘other way’ would involve Ann’s delicious bottom which would play a major part in any additional punishment.

“Please sir, could I possibly pay it off in some other way?” Asked Ann. “I’ve only got twenty-five pounds in the bank.”

“What sort of ‘other way’ would you like to be punished, Ann?”

“Could I be spanked again, please sir?” Said Ann quietly, accepting corporal punishment was the only thing she could offer in recompense.

“Well, yes, I suppose so, but you would need an awful lot of spanking to pay off your new debt.” Replied John, looking at the pretty girl standing in the hallway of his home.

John asked her why she was wearing her school uniform.

“I have to go to school for a detention this morning, sir.” Explained Ann. “Some girls were talking and being silly in Miss Sinker’s English lesson and so she’s given us all a two and a half hours’ detention – worst luck.”

Ann’s father had given her twelve with his strap as an additional punishment when the detention was announced earlier in the week, although she had not actually been personally involved in the bad behaviour.

“What’s Miss Sinker like?” Asked John, imagining being in charge of a form of nubile girls.

“Well, she’s quite nice but she’s very young and attractive, sir, and a few girls tend to play her up.”

“She would be better to spank the naughty girls, wouldn’t she?”

“Well, er, yes, er, I suppose so, sir. But only the headmistress can officially give that sort of punishment at the High School. You can get the cane if you get sent to her.”

“The cane on your bottom?”

“Yes, sir, or on your hands.” Ann blushed deeply.

“Have you been caned, Ann?”

“Just once, sir, with three other girls.” Came the quiet reply.

“Why?”

“We left school without permission at lunch time, sir.”

“Did it hurt your bottom?”

“Yes, it was very painful, sir.”

“How many strokes?”

“Six, sir.”

“Have you gone out without permission again?”

“No sir!” Came the emphatic reply. “It taught me a lesson and I had a strapping from Daddy because of it too.”

“So you had a really sore bottom for your sins?”

“Yes, sir.” Ann blushed.

“Perhaps young Miss Sinker should send you all to be caned. To make you all behave and avoid more detentions?” John’s imagination was racing ahead, picturing a group of mini-skirted girls all looking as attractive as Ann waiting outside the Head’s study to be caned.

“Yes sir.” Replied Ann doubtfully.

“Anyway, we must get on with this interview.” Observed John, wanting to start dealing with this mini-skirted girl. “You had better come down to the potting shed.”

Ann shivered as she entered the potting shed, remembering her last spanking there, the fusty smell, and all the spiders and cobwebs.

“Right, Ann, we must discuss what to do about your debt. We can’t let you off.”

“Yes, I understand, sir.” Replied Ann, quietly standing with her hands behind her back.

“Well, what would you like me to do about it? Shall I go to your parents?”

“Oh no, sir. Please not, sir.” Ann’s anxiety increased. “They would be livid.”

“What shall I do with you then?”

“Please would you punish me, er, spank me, er, yourself, sir?”

“Is that what you really want, Ann?”

“Yes please, sir.”

“Well, if you are sure? Well, alright then.”

Ann sighed with relief. She thought she would rather accept any punishment John might give her as long as her parents didn’t know.

“Right, here’s my offer. Obviously the severity of the offence merits a severe punishment and you can’t pay your, er, substantial debts by just a single spanking.” John cleared his throat and continued. “I have decided to give you a very fair exchange rate; I suggest a tariff of one spank per twenty-five pence of your debt. That’s four spanks per pound, so that makes one thousand six hundred spanks altogether!” John frowned as he completed the calculation.

Ann looked a little pale and felt her bottom tingling anxiously in her knickers.

“Gosh, that seems an awful lot sir.” Said Ann. Her mind raced ahead, thinking it would take ages to pay off her debt.

“You wouldn’t have to have all your spanks at once. I would be prepared to spank your debt off on a week-by-week basis or, if you would prefer it, on a day-by-day basis. I think I’m being rather kind, don’t you Ann?”

“Yes. Thank you very much sir.”

“Right, perhaps we should start now. The sooner you start paying it off the sooner it will go. Would you like me to start? I think we have just got time to spank you before you go to detention. We could arrange a spanking session for you every Saturday morning.”

“Thank you very much sir.” Said the polite Ann anxiously. She glanced at her watch; she had time to be spanked first before school detention.

“Bend over my knee!”

Ann got quickly in position, her hands and toes touching the ground and her plump bottom conveniently across John’s knee.

John lifted her short grey skirt and was confronted with Ann’s bottom partially covered by her dark blue school knickers. John patted the target area thoughtfully.

“Count the strokes off as you get them, girl” Snapped John, as the first smack landed solidly on the Ann’s bottom. “Oh, and thank me after each one.”

“Yes, sir. Ow! One, thank you, sir.”

John spanked away slowly and carefully.

Ann gasped as John’s hard hand landed on her bottom. She tried not to wriggle, but couldn’t help moving her thighs as John whacked her bottom with stinging spanks. The spanks were much harder than those he had given her for trespassing. John felt he was getting a measure of this most spankable bottom.

At last he got to twenty-three. John laid the last spank on really hard.

“Ouch! Oh! Twenty-four, thank you, sir.”

“And one for luck,” said John with a chuckle, giving another equally hard whack.

“Ow!”

“Get up, girl.” He ordered, and Ann quickly got to her feet. The last two spanks had brought tears to her eyes. She fumbled for her hanky in her satchel and dried her eyes.

“I’m sorry, sir.” She apologised.

“Right, Ann, that’s the first instalment. Twenty-four spanks at twenty-five pence each, that’s six pounds off your bill. You only owe just three hundred and ninety-four pounds now.”

“But I’ll go on being spanked for ever.” Sobbed Ann, rubbing her burning bottom.

“Well I suppose I might be persuaded to slipper off part of your loan.”

“Slipper it off, sir? Please, what do you mean?” Asked Ann between sobs.

‘Well I could slipper you in addition to spanking you, I mean, whack you with a slipper, actually a gymshoe or plimsoll. It’s what I do, as a prefect, to naughty boys at my school where I’m known as Whacker Watson.”

“It would hurt, wouldn’t it, sir?” Asked Ann.

“Yes, it would sting more than a spanking, but at least while the slipper was making an impression on your bottom it would also be making an impression on your debt!”

John grinned at what he thought was a clever remark.

“Sir, how many of the slipper would I get?”

‘Well, one stroke of the slipper would count for fifty pence and so, for six whacks a week, you would pay back three pounds. With the spanking and the slipper, you could pay back nine pounds a week.

“The slipper on my bottom, sir?”

“Of course, where else?

“When would I get my first whacking with the slipper, sir?”

“We could start as soon as you like. Today, or next week.”

Ann glanced at her watch; detention started in about ten minutes. There wouldn’t be time for her to be slippered now.

“Could we start next week, sir?”

“Yes, of course. After your paper round. We’ll come down here to the potting shed and then I’ll spank you first and slipper you afterwards.”

“Thank you very much, sir.”

A few minutes later Ann was sitting on her hard desk seat listening to Miss Sinker telling her English set off, and then setting the subject of their detention essay and the line they had to write out one hundred times. Her recently spanked bottom glowed warmly, and she wriggled unsuccessfully to get comfortable.

The following Saturday, after her paper round, Ann reported to John for the next instalment of her punishment. There was no school detention today and Ann was wearing her white blouse and shorts. She looked very attractive and vulnerable. She was spanked in the potting shed and was allowed to get up and rub her bottom after getting 24 strokes. Her face was pink and she looked as if tears were not far away.

“Right, Ann, now for the slipper. Come over here.” John beckoned the girl to him.

Ann looked on anxiously as John produced an elderly gymshoe. He patted it against the palm of his hand.

“Now, for this, Ann, you’re going to bend over the back of this chair and hold the seat with your hands. I’m going to give you six and I warn you it will sting.

Bend over.” Ordered John, and Ann quickly got into position. “Stick your bottom out further.”

Ann complied with his orders.

John whacked the slipper down hard on the bending bottom.

“Ow!” Protested Ann. “Ouch! Oh Gosh, that really stings!” She remained in position.

“Are you happy for me to carry on, Ann?”

“Yes please, sir.”

John continued the punishment, wielding the slipper with a wristy wallop down to land hard on the waiting bottom. He placed alternate strokes on each side of her bottom and gave her one extra hard stroke ‘for luck’ too.

“Stand up,” ordered John, and Ann got quickly to her feet and immediately clasped both hands to her scorching bottom.

She bounced up and down on her toes as she rubbed and looked accusingly at the slipper that had whacked her.

“Gosh that really stings sir.”

“Good, it’s meant to.” Replied John unsympathetically. “But you have paid nine pounds off your bill, well done.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Replied the bottom-rubbing girl quietly.

“Right you can go now if you like, Ann.”

“Shall I come again next week, sir?” She asked.

“Yes, if you want to keep paying off your debt. By the way, I have prepared a record book of your debt. Each week we will note your punishment and how much you have paid off. We will both sign each entry.”

“Thank you very much sir. Could I have the slipper every week? That would help clear my debt more quickly.”

“Yes, you can pay the debt off as quickly as you like. You could come for a spanking, followed by the slipper, every day during the school holidays, if you wish.”

“How was the morning for you, darling?” Asked John’s mother when she arrived home at lunchtime.

“Good, thanks Mum. I finished my essay. How did you get on?”

“I’m late home because I chatted to Mrs Simpson at the chemist’s. She lives three houses down the lane. She’s the mother of our nice, reliable paper girl.  I am sure you have seen her; she looks very attractive in her High School uniform during the week. She’s neat and tidy at weekends too.”

“Er, yes Mum, I think I know who you mean.” John hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“Her mother told me they are very strict with her and insist on good behaviour at all times.” Explained John’s Mum. “She still gets spanked by her parents if she’s been a naughty girl and they have a leather strap for serious offences.”

“That seems quiet old fashioned, Mum.” Commented John.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this because their daughter, Ann, would be extremely embarrassed if she thought people knew; she’s usually spanked on her bare bottom.”

“Oh, really Mum?” Said John nonchalantly. His mind raced ahead, feeling rather aggrieved that Ann had missed out this detail about how her punishments at home were delivered.

“What would you like for lunch, darling?” Asked Mrs Simpson.

“A sandwich would be fine thanks, Mum.” Replied John, his mind on other things.

A certain young lady would have some explaining to do next Saturday morning, and might well incur additional punishment.

Three doors down, the young lady concerned was sitting at the kitchen table having lunch with her parents. The chairs were hard and her bottom was tender and glowing. It was impossible to sit comfortably, thanks to her spanking and the slipper.

“You’re fidgeting, Ann. Is there something wrong with you?” Asked her mother.

“No Mummy. Sorry.” Replied her daughter.

“You can get down and start the washing up, Ann. Then you had better get on with your school work.” Said her father with a frown. “If I see you fidgeting at the table again, I’ll give you something to fidget for.” He added ominously.

“Sorry Daddy.” Replied Ann, getting quickly to her feet and anxious to avoid further punishment to her burning bottom.

The End

© Penny Morton 2014


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