spankingwishes: agbbswts: Will you follow me in the house or shall I slipper you right here in the g
spankingwishes: agbbswts: Will you follow me in the house or shall I slipper you right here in the garden? Upstairs Mrs. Harris said it very pleasantly and rather quietly. “Kelsey, will you follow me inside or shall I slipper you out here?” It was easier to believe that she’d do it than believe she’d said it – we’d kept this kind of thing very private! I glanced around nervously as I prepared to follow her – I gave no thought to the choice or any form of resistance. Lori’s sister and niece and a friend and her daughter were chatting pleasantly and barely noticed our sojourn. Once in the house Lori saw her mom and said ‘Okay to borrow your room for a few minutes? There’s something I need to take care of.” “Of course, dear – do you need any help?” was her reply. Oh God, no! No ‘help’! my brain screamed. Despite my disposition having switched to submissive and tentative from its earlier scowling and surly, I doubt Mrs. Carver could have known exactly what her daughter meant unless Lori had told her – so I concluded that she had. Would she walk out back and explain what was happening to everyone there? I shuddered at the thought. Please, please don’t! was all I could think. The moment Lori – or now, Mrs. Harris, as I should think of her, had said anything, I knew I totally deserved it. I’m not at my best socializing with strangers and, admittedly, don’t make it any easier on them no matter how welcoming they are (quick was ‘very’). I was self-conscious about my undefined role and reason for my presence (‘She’s a friend of my daughter’s, Lori had explained, and left it at that) and even more so by my state of ‘Sunday Dress’ – clean and free of the holes and obscene sayings that many of my clothes possess, but pants and a top are way out of place among the lovely dresses, some with a vintage air, and universally perfectly-applied but restrained make-up. Thankfully Mrs. Carver’s bedroom was at the front of the house, so we might be afforded sound privacy, especially if this was quick. “Hurry, please,” I begged and Mrs. Harris looked understanding if not sympathetic. “Right off then, quickly,” she said, indicating my pants as she searched her bag for ‘The Slipper’. “You brought it with you?” I whined even as I toed off my shoes and unfastened my pants. By the time she replied I was half-naked in a near-stranger’s bedroom, expecting a spanking (I have to admit, it is more than a little exciting in the telling of it). “I was hoping for the best but preparing for the worst,” she told me. “And you got the worst,” I grumbled. “Oh no – no tantrum. At least not yet,” she teased, though I wasn’t in the mood for it. We both knew there wouldn’t be one now. “You brought the hairbrush, too?” I said, incredulous. “And the strap?” – referring to what happens when I have a ‘tantrum’. It didn’t seem like she had room in her bag for one, let alone both. “No, no,” she informed me calmly. “My mother has a hairbrush. You’d get the strap at home” (meaning her place). Now over you go,” she chirped, patting the flower-patterned dress stretched across her thighs. I complied, putting my hands on the floor and then reaching one back for her to control – but she shifted slightly, saying ‘All the way down.” My elbows went to the floor as my bottom came up – my thighs get a lot of attention when she slippers me – and I wrapped my arm around her calf, as much for comfort and for control. What can I say about a long, fiercely stinging spanking that roasted my bottom and half my thighs? Yes, I cried – some. Not much point in begging or pleading – or scolding, on her part. I knew exactly what her complaint was – my attitude – and she knew the best way to fix it. I saved my apology for when she was finished and, still crying (a little), promised to have ‘a better attitude’. Of course, this is always easy after a good spanking! I may be a little too clingy, but surly or unfriendly I am not! As soon as I finished there was a light knock and Mrs. Carver entered (the door, I discovered, had not even been fully closed!) and the timing made me suspect that she’d been waiting outside. Without remarking of my bare, crimson bottom (and more!) she encouraged me to get my clothes back on and ‘fix my face’ while they returned downstairs, making it clear that I was expected to follow almost immediately. Out in the garden again, the girls asked if I’d enjoyed the tour and I declared the house ‘lovely’ (so, not an actual lie). I told Bethany that I liked the picture in her grandma’s room and she agreed, promising to take Emily up and show her sometime (this was sort of funny, thinking of Bethany taking Emily ‘upstairs’ like I had been, since Emily is by far the more forceful of the two). A few thoughts like these put me in the best of moods, along with imagining what would happen if I snuck a drink (I’ve drank for years but am still (way) underage and got caught. No doubt the elegant Mrs. Carver wouldn’t approve – and I’m told she has a hairbrush. -- source link