UNINFORMED AND UNIFORMED
by
Father Jim and C. Lakewood
THE PLOT CONTINUES TO THICKEN, AS A NEW PLAYER BECOMES A PLAYER.
Part 4
Fred Dobbs, the hotel manager, watched Jennifer cross the road
and enter the YWCA with keen interest. He was somewhat let down
that the woman's daughter had obviously escaped the promised
spanking, but, when he saw Jennifer returning and read the
determined expression on her face, he was certain that proper
retribution was soon to follow. And follow, it did.
Before Jennifer had even finished re-crossing the street, Fred
had called his subordinate and excused himself for a break. He
slipped upstairs and, using his passkey, let himself into the
suite adjoining Jennifer's room. There was a double-doored
connection between the two rooms that, when closed, afforded
a great deal of privacy, but, once one of the doors was opened,
the sounds from the adjoining room left little to the imagination.
He pulled up a chair, leaned his ear to the door, and listened.
He didn't have to wait long to be rewarded on his hunch. He heard
the entire exchange concerning the computer use and leading up to
the moment Barbie's pants were coming down. But what he heard next
sent him for a loop.
Just as Jenny started to unzip Barbie's pants, Barbie decided
enough was enough. "Look, this just isn't right. You can't do
this! Jennifer, you simply can't treat your mother like this!"
"Oh, you really did it now, Barbie! What did I tell you about
using my first name?"
SMACK! SMACK!
"Okay! I'm sorry!"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I'm sorry...Mother!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Alright, alright alright! I'm sorry, Mommy! But, please, just
pull my panties back up. They hardly offer any protection, and
it's not right for you to see me this way."
"If I remember correctly, 'you're never too old for a spanking,'
and 'naughty girls get spanked BARE.' Right?"
"Yes, M-mommie!"
"Good. Now, before I start, let's get something straight. You
made a deal, and you're going to stick to it, whether you like it
or not. I can call Paddywell any time and drop you off there. Got
it? I'm sure they can come up with some ways to make your weekend
much more unpleasant than what I have planned for you. So, you
behave yourself and act the dutiful, obedient daughter you are
supposed to be, or, so help me, Daddy and I will be visiting you ;
on weekends and holidays at Paddywell!"
Fred Dobbs was beside himself. The wheels in his brain were
spinning. "So, I have two little fakes, do I? Well, we'll just
have to see what we can do about that." As hotel manager, he was
of course very familiar with cheating spouses who used the hotel
as a love nest, and, with this familiarity, there came a certain
amount of boredom, more often than not nowadays. But here was
something new...different...exciting. It intrigued him and
practically demanded he assume a part in this unusual and
compelling psychodrama.
"Now, Barbie, I'm going to put you over my knee and hand-spank you
soundly. If you behave -- and take your spanking like a good
little girl -- I may go easier on you, but, mark my words, one
sign of obstinacy out of you, and I'm going to take this slipper
and give you the tanning of your life, young lady! Am I
understood?"
Barbara sniffed back a developing tear, and, with her head down in
shame, she replied,"Yes, mommie!"
Fred was then treated to quite an audio show. The spanking started
slowly at first, and all that was heard was the smacking sounds of
Jennifer's hand on Barbie's upturned bottom. But, by the twentieth
smack, Barbie was beginning to sound desperate. Soon, each swat
produced a squeal of anguish...and, soon after, sobbing and
downright pleading. He yearned to open the inner door a crack
and get a look of the goings-on, but he feared discovery and an
untimely end to Barbie's ordeal. He was hoping against hope that
she would rebel and so suffer the slipper, and, sure enough, the
next smack produced a squeal followed by a string of invectives
that would have made a sailor blush.
"That is quite enough, Jennifer; I AM your mother!" Barbie managed
to choke out between sobs. "I will not get back over your knee.
This farce has gone on more than long enough!"
"Oh, so the little girl decides when she's had enough punishment,
then? NOT! I'm sorry, but you brought this on yourself."
Barbie let out a shriek, and a brief struggle ensued, but it ended
with the sharp sound of leather on skin. Barbie howled!
"Now, about that language! When we get home, you're going to tell
Mr. Peepers just how you were properly punished and ask for his
forgiveness. If I even think that you are holding back, so help
me, I'll let him punish you, himself!"
All the while, the sound of tanned leather connecting with female
flesh filled the room in counterpoint to Barbie's screams of pain
and outrage.
"Now, open your mouth! Yes, that's it, and hold this bar of soap
in there. No, don't even think of spitting it out. If you do
before I'm finished, I'll start all over again, and I swear you
won't have a heinie left to sit on! Now, let's get on with it!"
Fred was thrilled. This pseudo-girl, whom he had thought just a
brat, was now getting the licking of her life from her very own
daughter, and, he was hearing every detail.
Barbie, for her part, was experiencing the worst day of her life.
Standing naked from the waist down, she realized that her dampening
crotch was right at Jenny's eye (and nose!) level. Then, the
spanking! Omigod! First of all, how could she ever face her
daughter again? And second.... She tried to be brave, but she
hadn't counted on Jenny really doing it, really skinning her ass
like she had done to her in the past. She had not counted on the
pain. She knew that giving birth to Jennifer HAD been worse than
the hand-spanking, but she wasn't so sure about the slippering.
She was reduced to carrying on like...well, like a child. She
begged, promising anything to stop the spanking...to get out of
the deal. And, in the end, she became what she was being punished
for seeming: a snivelling brat who deserved everything she was
getting. She had even sworn like a stevedore, and now had the
soap in her mouth to prove it. It all was so disgusting, and she
wasn't sure just how much more she could take.
Jennifer was all business. She wasn't going to let her mom off
easy. She had a job to do, and her mother had a lesson to learn,
and both were going to be accomplished. No, she wasn't hitting
her mother with ALL her strength, perhaps, but she wasn't loafing,
either. She wanted the lesson to last. After all, how often would
she get this chance?
Barbie's screams of pain, now muffled by the bar of soap and her
constant gagging, eventually died down to a muted sobbing. The
smacking sounds continued for a while, but, much too soon for Fred,
the spanking eventually came to an end. All in all, it had been a
most enjoyable interlude, and he now found it difficult to stand
up. He'd have to take care of that little problem before he could
go back to the desk. He heard Jennifer order Barbie to spit out
the soap, rinse, and spit again...then go to the corner. He
quietly closed the adjoining door and let himself out, quickly
making his way to the restroom to relieve his obvious condition,
and thence back to the front desk.
After a few minutes' corner time, Barbie was summoned to the
bathroom. Jenny had one more humiliation for her: Barbie was
going to get shaved.
As Jennie prepared and laid out the shaving things, she began
to get a squirmy feeling. She had an idea that she was going
to enjoy this perhaps more than she should....
Some time later, bare as a baby and pink as a watermelon, Barbie
again stood in the corner, mourning the loss of the last vestige
of her womanhood.
******************************
Perhaps half an hour afterward, the manager looked up to quite a
delightful sight. Barbie stood at the counter. Her face was a
mask of misery, eyes red and swollen. She was a girl (well, a
woman) in obvious discomfort. She was blushing furiously. He
tried to act as if he had no idea of her condition and looked
from Barbie's pained expression to Jennifer's triumphant one.
He liked the contrast.
"May I help you, young lady?"
Barbie colored even redder, if that were possible, and, sobbing
and hiccupping, she told her story of woe, including every detail.
Fred, of course, knew everything she said was true, yet did his
best to seem amazed and sympathetic about Barbie's situation,
and he looked genuinely concerned throughout her apology and
confession. But he also, from time to time, expressed disbelief
or feigned misunderstanding and compelled Barbie to repeat some
of the most humiliating parts.
In the end, he assumed a judgmental manner and a patronizing tone
of voice.
"Well, young lady, I see that your mother has done the right thing
and, I hope, has taught you a very valuable lesson.... I can't,
however, just write off those computer charges. After all, you DID
use it, correct?"
Stricken, Barbie turned to Jenny with pleading eyes. Jenny just
snapped at her, "Don't you look at me, young lady! You made the
choice -- so deal with it!"
Barbie looked back to the manager. Inside, she was seething. If
this had happened last week, when she was in her crisp business
suit and wearing her doctor's name tag, this man would have been
falling all over himself to grovel at her feet and write off the
stupid nine dollar charge. Now, just because he thought her a
child, he was making her jump through hoops and treating her like
dirt.
"But I have no money, s-sir. Maybe I could earn the money...clean
some rooms or something."
"No, I'm sorry. There are all sorts of hotel regulations about
that sort of thing. Liabilities.... Nope, you'll just have to
pay."
Jennifer interjected, "Sir, my m- my daughter has been rude and
disobedient. She has been properly punished by me, but perhaps
what you had said earlier could be of some help. You remarked
that discipline should be thorough to be effective. Perhaps if
you yourself made certain that the discipline was thorough enough,
then you could see fit to waive the fee?"
Throughout the earlier spanking, Fred had kicked himself that the
rooms did not have surveillance cameras. But if what she seemed
to be implying....
"Well.... It's highly irregular, but I think I see your point.
Take the charges out of her hide, so to speak. Not a bad idea.
You do realize, however, that I'm on duty and can't leave the desk.
She'd have to be punished right here, right behind the counter."
Getting your bare bottom spanked in private by your daughter is
devastating, but getting it spanked in public by a total stranger
that you already totally dislike is worse, especially if it's a
bottom that's already so sore that sitting will be a torment for
days.
Barbie looked back and forth between the two and shouted, "NO
FUCKING WAY!"
One glance at the look on Jenny's face told her that she had, once
again, gone too far. Jenny reached into her purse and pulled out
the slipper and the dreaded soap. "Sir, I believe my daughter will
be needing these to pay off her debt!"
Fred just smiled and guided Barbie back around the counter. He
pulled a straight back chair away from the night auditor's desk
and placed it with its back to the counter. There was method to
his madness. The security camera would capture this Kodak moment
for future viewing, and he could relive every bit of this little
minx's punishment again and again. He sat down, his back to the
counter, and dragged Barbie to his side. As he began to undo her
shorts, she started to protest.
He looked to Jennifer and said, tartly, "I believe all spankings
should be given on the bare, don't you?"
Jenny smiled. "Of course, proceed!"
As he slowly and painfully dragged Barbie's pants and panties down
over her still-tingling bottom, he began to lecture her.
"Now, young lady, I can see from the condition of your little red
caboose that your mother did a good job. It's obvious she truly
cares about you. I'm half-tempted to let you off this time, but
I feel it would be a wrong for you to miss out on this learning
opportunity. So, I'm going to compromise. I'm going to put this
bar of soap in your mouth and give you only nine swats of the
slipper, one for each dollar you owe. If you hold the soap, the
debt will be paid, but, if you drop the soap, we'll start all over
again at 'One.' Understand?"
Barbie was now pants down, prone across this loathsome man's lap.
All she could do was nod her head in agreement and wait for the
worst. She didn't have long to wait. Her butt was already sore,
and Fred was a grown man, so the first swat stung so badly that
she spit out the soap.
"Well, that one doesn't count. Keep that up, and we'll be here all
day!"
The spanking started again. Barbie was beside herself, screaming,
gagging on the soap, and writhing in pain and humiliation. But
now, no matter what, she wouldn't again let go of that hated soap.
In the middle of it, a woman came into the lobby and, startled,
stood quietly by and watched. Soon after, a businessman and his
wife came in. They watched four swats before the wife made a
disgusted face and left with her husband in tow. Finally, as the
last three swats were administered, a middle-class family of four
-- husband, wife, son, and daughter (who would turn out to be
19-year-old twins) -- walked into the lobby and also stood quietly,
observing the finish. Jenny had noticed all these arrivals and had
smiled at each in turn.
Fred pulled the sobbing Barbie to her feet. She was totally
oblivious to the fact that she was standing there, pants and
panties at her ankles, her hairless crotch on display, sobbing
and gently nursing an obviously well-punished behind while a
number of people had gathered to watch. At last, despite her
tears and blubbered apologies to the manager, she finally became
aware of the onlookers. She let out a squawk and bent over,
trying to hide herself...not very successfully. For that matter,
the spectators had already seen practically all there was to see.
Their individual reactions, however, would remain to be seen.
Jenny thanked Fred for disciplining her daughter and dragged Barbie
back to their room. Barbie was devastated. All of those people
had seen her bare from the waist down...had seen her spanked...and
had seen her almost cum in the process....
Meanwhile, the woman that had come into the lobby had actually come
to complain about her room -- she had found a gum-wrapper under her
bed. But, as she watched the weeping Barbie limping away, she
abruptly changed her mind and decided that everything was just
fine after all. When Fred asked if he could help her, she forced
a smile, shook her head, and scurried back to the safety of her
room (where she spent some "quality time" with herself).
The middle-brow family checked in, somewhat nervously. As they
made their way toward their rooms, the father was overheard to
hiss, "You kids, I don't want to hear any more bickering -- and
you will not trash this room." He turned to his wife. "And this
time, you leave the towels and stuff here." The rest of the
family chirped unanimous agreement.
About a half-hour later, the businessman who had been in earlier
returned and inquired as to the reason for the young girl's
punishment. Fred shrugged, smiled, and mentioned it was because
of unauthorized use of the room computer. The man just nodded in
approval and checked in. As he finished, he laid a crisp new
hundred dollar bill on the counter and asked, "What time do you
get off tonight?"
Fred looked at the hundred and then at the man. "Ten o'clock.
Why?"
"That hundred says my wife will commit the same offense by 10
tonight, and if her bottom looks like that young lady's by 11,
there'll be another hundred for you. Okay?"
Fred nodded, picked up the bill, folded it, and put it into his
pocket. Grinning broadly, he thought, "This is going to be one
hell of a memorable night!"
Meanwhile, in their room, Barbie was back in her corner. She was
furious with Jenny for subjecting her to such public humiliation --
and with that wretched man, too. And she was certain the threat
about Mr. Peepers was not an idle one. Of course, she was also
afraid of getting another damn slippering if she stepped out of
line. She spit...again. She knew she'd be tasting soap for days.
How had she gotten herself into this mess?
Jenny, in the meantime, was thinking about dinner and decided that
they would eat in the hotel. So, about 7 p.m., the two made their
way to the dining room, which was just off the lobby. Barbie was
mortified; her bottom was so sore that she had been forced to
bring along one of the large foam pillows from the bed. She
quickly put it on her chair -- out of sight, she hoped -- and
gingerly lowered herself onto it. But it took several minutes
of fidgeting and a stern threat from Jenny of another public
spanking to finally get Barbie to sit still and look over the
menu. She chose inappropriately, however, and Jenny had to
correct her order from lobster, etc. to mac and cheese, a peanut ,
butter sandwich, milk, and jello.
Whether it was the hours of crying, or the energy she had expended
struggling through her spankings, Barbie was famished. The
kiddie's meal was almost too much for her to bear. She was just
about to cry.
Jenny looked at Barbie and, with the cold conviction of a mother
who knows what's good for her daughter, ordered her to sit up
straight, quit acting up, and eat her meal. Barbie grudgingly sat
up and ate her kiddie food in silence.
The family of four that had witnessed the spanking came in just as
Jenny and Barbie were finishing. The boy saw the pillow first and
pointed it out to his sister. She giggled and told her parents.
Soon the whole family was rudely gawking at Barbie, and she knew
it.
"Mom, can we go? They're laughing at me."
"Now, Barbie, if you hadn't misbehaved, they would have nothing to
laugh at. Besides, it's probably good for them to see what happens
to kids when they're naughty. Gosh, you act as if they'd never
seen someone get spanked before."
Truth be told, they hadn't, until today. In fact, they had never
been spanked themselves. Unfortunately for both them AND their
mother, that condition would soon change. If no one else had
been favorably impressed by the show, the father certainly had
been, and he used what he had learned on all three of his family
that very same night. And the night after.
The drive back home was the quietest and pleasantest part of the
trip.
After Jenny finished her surf n' turf, she lingered a while over
after-dinner coffee while Barbie just sat and stewed. She asked
permission to go pee, but that was denied. Another cross to bear.
She knew that all those people thought she was just a naughty
little girl who was getting exactly what she had deserved. If
they only knew the truth, that they had witnessed a full-grown,
professional woman spanked on her bare bottom, they would have
been flabbergasted. She hated the way they looked at her and
smiled their superior, knowing smiles. They were relishing the
thought of her sore, red behind. She mentally relived what that
bastard manager had done to her and squirmed at the memory. He had
had spanked her so hard, and he'd enjoyed it. His thick hard-on
had pressed against her stomach...and she wondered, momentarily,
what it might look like...if it was really as big as it had felt.
He had spanked her mercilessly, and then had the gall to wink at
her as she and Jenny passed the desk on their way to dinner.
Barbie hated the fact that she had been manhandled so easily, both
by him AND by her own daughter. But, even more, she hated "corner
time." That half-hour standing in the corner was awful. It seemed
endless, and endlessly boring, with nothing to do but re-live the
pain and humiliation over and over again.
Though, if it was such torment (and it WAS), why was she so wet
between the legs?
No! She refused to think about that.
Besides, some of this -- much of it -- was sort of her own fault.
She knew that she should have been able to act with maturity -- for
example, to watch her tongue rather than cussing out Mr. Peepers
like a common guttersnipe. She also knew that she deliberately
called Jenny by her first name in a stupid attempt to prolong her
superior status, and she had intentionally chosen to use the
computer knowing it would leave Jennifer no option but to punish
her. She had to admit that she had misbehaved.... Yes, just like
a naughty child, she had "asked for it" and had gotten it.
Ever since this damn arrangement had begun, she had been acting
more and more viscerally and less rationally. She knew from
training and experience how to analyze problems and manipulate
people. Why couldn't she seem to utilize those skills now? Was
she reverting to adolescent behavior just because people were
expecting it of her? Or was there a darker reason?
All this actually hurt worse than either spanking. Later,
after she had been put to bed, she continued to stew about
it, fruitlessly, and finally cried herself to sleep....
******************************
UNINFORMED AND UNIFORMED
by
Father Jim and C. Lakewood
FUN IN THE SHOWER, A SWIMMING LESSON, AND, AS THEY USED TO SAY,
SOME "DIRTY WORK AT THE CROSS-ROADS."
Part 5
Barbie was awakened by a sharp slap on her upturned bottom. She'd
spent the night face-down (and she realized, with chagrin, that she
had a hand inside her panties). She hoped Jenny hadn't noticed,
but the expression on her face suggested that she had.
Then she removed all doubt.
"I'm sorry I didn't think to bring your vibrator, Barbie. I know
how horny girls of your age get at the least little thing...."
And then she giggled -- giggled!
Jenny had already gotten up, showered, ordered breakfast, and
dressed. During her own shower, Barbie examined her bottom and
was relieved to see that there was no bruising. It was still red,
though, and tender. She stood under the hot water for a long time,
luxuriating in the heat and the feel of the needle spray on her
breasts, tummy, and crotch...especially her crotch....
"The nerve of that girl...making cracks about my vibrator," she
fumed. "I suppose she'd want me to demonstrate it, next.... Oh,
god! Having to m-mas-masturbate in front of her.... How wicked!
I'd HAVE to, though, if she ordered me. I'd have to...just....
Oh, god...oh...ohh...ooohh!"
By the time she emerged from the steamy bathroom, the food had
arrived: bacon, eggs, biscuits, orange juice, and coffee for
Jenny; mush and milk for Barbie. Ravenous, she ate her swill
in silence.
At last Jenny finished her coffee, glanced at her watch, and
announced, "Okay, sleepyhead, hurry up. Swim class in half an
hour."
"Aaaaah! I forgot all about that. But, please. I'm still much
too sore for any kind of physical workout this morning. Can't we
just skip that...Mommie?"
"Don't be silly. It'll be good for you.... Besides, you've
already had a workout, of sorts, while you were in the shower.
Right?"
Barbie blushed and nodded.
"Right?"
"Yes, Mommie.... I-I couldn't help it...."
"Hormones made you do it? Well, maybe...maybe not."
******************************
Twenty minutes later the two were walking past the front desk when
Fred cleared his throat and called to Jennifer. He handed her
"THE" slipper and thanked her for loaning it to him. She smiled
and tucked it into her purse. "Actually," she said, "I don't think
Barbie thanked you sufficiently last night for her spanking. Go
on, dear, thank the nice man.
"Th-thank you, s-sir, for s-sp-panking me. I'm trying to be a good
girl...."
Damn! She could feel her panties getting damp again.
******************************
Not ten minutes after mother and daughter had continued on to
the YWCA (with Fred relishing the fact that he knew which was
which...and wondering exactly how he could best employ that
knowledge), he looked up to see the businessman's wife coming
toward him. She was quite attractive, mid-forties, blonde hair
stylishly done, trim figure well taken care of -- in short, a
woman who was the center of attention wherever she happened to
be, and clearly accustomed to the finer things of life. Looking
at her now, however, it was obvious that something wasn't right.
Even her perfect make-up couldn't camouflage her red and swollen
eyes. And she appeared to be walking rather stiffly, as if each
move was painful. She sniffled and said, in a soft and trembling
"I am sorry for causing you to sp-spank me last night, and I want
to...sniff...apologize for my actions and thank you for my-my
punishment.... Your hotel...sniff...is wonderful, and we hope
to use...sniff, sniff...use your fine services again.... Often."
At this, she turned stiffly and limped away, one hand hovering near
her rump.
Fred had a dreamy expression on his face as he re-played his vivid
memories of her pretty bottom, bare, wagging to and fro under the
Turkish slipper. He patted the two crisp c-notes in his pocket and
watched the woman painfully seat herself in their Mercedes. Hurry
back, now!
******************************
At the YWCA, Jennifer and Barbie headed straight for the area
marked, "POOL."
"Yes? Can I help you?" a husky voice asked.
The woman was tall and lanky, with short, black hair and olive
skin. Late 30s, maybe. She was wearing a damp t-shirt, loose
shorts, and a whistle on a lanyard -- and apparently nothing else.
She was attractive, if you liked the type. Barbie thought she was
probably a "lipstick lesbian."
"Yes," Jenny replied. "Miss Girardo? My daughter's signed up for
a beginner's swim lesson."
"Okay. We'll be running just a little late today. The others in
the class won't be here for a while. You weren't informed?"
Jenny shook her head.
"No matter. My instructors are here. This'll just give us the
opportunity for...'personalized' instruction."
Barbie didn't like the way that sounded, but it didn't seem to
bother Jenny at all.
"I'll just leave Barbie in your hands, then. I'm anxious to try
the frappuccino back in the glassed-in lounge area -- I've heard
people rave about it. Incidentally, she doesn't have a suit."
Miss Girardo grinned, showing her very white teeth. "Don't worry
about that. Go on and enjoy the lounge." She looked down at
Barbie. "First thing for you, kid, is a shower."
"I just had a shower," Barbie retorted.
"Doesn't make any difference. State law requires a verified shower
before you enter the pool area. Come along. Little girls can't
shower without adult supervision."
Barbie, of course, was pissed. She didn't want to undress and
parade around naked in front of a bunch of dykes or a pack of kids,
and she didn't want any swimming lesson...most particularly in the
NUDE. She'd lived this long without swimming, so why start now?
Jennifer, however, had a different view, and all it took was one
glimpse of that damned slipper to convince Barbie that she had
better be obedient on this matter.
Accordingly, she followed "Stretch" into the seedy locker room and
reluctantly began to strip. She longed for the country club
facilities: private shower stalls, each with its own enclosed
changing area.
Here, however, there were just a few dented lockers next to big
gang shower, maybe 25 feet square. A series of sprinkler pipes
ran along the ceiling above the shower area, and there were a
number of drain grates set into the floor. Pretty crude. No
walls, no modesty panels, no curtains....
She was just handing the coach her panties when two damp
20-somethings in black tank suits came in, a stocky Latina
and a lithe redhead.
"Who's this, Myra?" Red asked.
"Barbie...Barbie Wilson," the head coach answered. "She's a
beginner and obviously a little shy, poor thing.... Barbie!
You get along to the shower, now, and don't waste time."
As Barbie obediently turned toward the big gang shower, the Latina
spoke up. "From the looks of her butt, it appears little Barbie's
had a recent spanking. She might as well be wearing a sign."
The coach laughed. "Yes, and if you'll take a glance at her
crotch, you'll see why, probably."
"Ahhh! So you like to play with yourself, huh, chica?"
The redhead snapped a towel at Barbie's tender bottom. "Answer
her, brat!"
"Aaaaa! Please! YES! Yes, I-I like to...."
"O-kay. So, get your rosy little butt into that shower, and make
real sure you scrub EVERYWHERE...or we'll have to get in there and
give you a hand," the coach said.
Barbie scurried into the institutional shower...and jumped back
with a squeal as the icy water hit her. She managed to get up
enough nerve to edge back under the frigid spray and lather up.
The cheap soap was no treat, but it could have been worse.
And it got worse. The three women watched closely as she scrubbed
herself from head to toe.... And then, before they'd let her out,
insisted she demonstrate her fingering technique.
******************************
After the shower and the show, she and the three instructors moved
to the pool area. Nobody else had arrived yet.
"Okay, kid," Coach Guardino said. "You can start your warm-ups.
Squats first. Go!"
The three women crowded around Barbie then, as she obediently
spread her legs and commenced doing her squats....
She was very conscious of the sub-text, and it both annoyed her
and seemed to turn her on. And that annoyed her even more.
"Look at how WET she is!" Red said.
"And not from the shower, neither," the Latina added. "She's a
HOT one!"
"I love the way it opens and closes as she's going up and down....
Like she's advertising, or something," Red grinned.
Coach Guardino merely smiled indulgently as her subordinates
prattled on, but she DID have a look in her eye that made
Barbie shiver.
After a number of stretching and loosening exercises, they moved on
to breathing and arm movements, which Barbie had to practice while
standing beside the pool.
At last, appearing bored with the proceedings so far, Coach
Guardino snapped a towel at Barbie's butt-crack, causing her
to stumble a few erratic steps...and tumble into the pool.
She immediately began to flail about and scream for help in the
classic way of drowning females. Her lurid shrieks bounced off
the tiles and echoed around the pool area, sounding like something
out of a slasher movie. Meanwhile, the three women were all
laughing uncontrollably. Though Barbie was appalled that these
people would just stand and laugh at her while she drowned, right
now her panic overrode all other thoughts and emotions, and she
pleaded for help.
"Stand up!" the coach said.
"What? What? Oh, please! (Blub!) Please help me!"
In unison the three shouted, "STAND UP!" Barbie finally let her
feet down and felt the bottom. She had been floundering around in
about three feet of water. Still laughing at this crazy naked
girl with the rosy butt and skillful fingers, the coach grabbed
Barbie's wrist and hauled her over to the ladder and out of the
pool.
Barbie's wits, already frayed, snapped. Sputtering and fuming,
she muttered, "Bitch!" and reflexively pushed hard, sending the
off-balance coach reeling backward to topple ungracefully into
the deep end of the pool.
Apparently Coach Guardino's sense of humor was not very elastic,
for, a moment later, she rose from the pool like wet, grim death,
scrambled out, and made straight for Barbie, who was rooted to
the spot and repeating over and over, "I didn't mean it.... I'm
sooo sorry!"
"You're going to be a lot sorrier," the coach said through gritted
teeth. "It's no wonder that somebody had to tan your backside,
but I guess they didn't do it thoroughly enough.... So, you brat,
get ready for another dose!"
Barbie tried to back away, but she had no escape route. The coach
seized her ear and dragged her over to a pool-side bench and across
her lap. The coach's arm went up...and paused...and....
There suddenly came a shout of "STOP!"
"Thank god!" Barbie gasped.
It was Jennifer, apparently come to save her. But Barbie's relief
was short-lived. Jennifer simply walked up and handed the coach
the slipper (which she had thoughtfully encased in a plastic bag,
to protect it from the damp).
The furious coach immediately accepted it and put it to use. In
the next few minutes, Barbie learned a new lesson, namely that
being spanked on your wet bottom was wickedly painful.
Discarding all modesty and self-control, Barbie carried on as if
she were possessed. She kicked and screamed and thrashed about
with utter abandon. Still, Coach Guardindo, seemingly of some
long-lost Amazon stock, had no problem holding her easily with
one hand, while whaling away mercilessly with the other.
All in all, the spanking was rather brief, but very memorable.
And, when Barbie was let up, she did the traditional dance,
holding her bottom and blubbering incoherently until the coach
pushed her back into the shallow end of the pool.
"There, baby, that should cool you off...."
******************************
Fred looked up to see Jennifer and Barbie crossing the street,
heading back to the hotel. And Barbie was walking the same way
the businessman's wife had earlier.
As the two were passing the desk, Fred delivered a message that
had come for them while they were out.
"It seems your husband will be detained another week," he said to ;
Jenny. "But he should be home by next Sunday. He was sorry he'll
miss the masquerade party, but he wanted you two to go anyway and
have fun. Jennifer just smiled and nodded, though Barbie appeared
unhappy.
Fred then asked, in a smirking, patronizing voice, "Is everything
alright, young lady?"
There was that irritating "young lady" thing that was really
getting on her nerves. "NO, EVERYTHING IS NOT GODDAMN ALRIGHT!
I JUST GOT MY BARE ASS BLISTERED BY SOME AMAZON DYKE! OKAY?
AND NOW I'M GOING BACK TO MY SORRY-ASS ROOM! OKAY?"
That little tantrum proved unwise.
Not ten minutes later, the sound of leather on flesh and Barbie's
barely-muted wails drifted from their room and down the hall. The
hour of silence that followed meant corner time, of course.
Jennifer was determined that, since her father would not be back in
time to enjoy the party, she would ensure that this weekend left a
lasting impression on her mother. Still, she was becoming rather
bored and decided that this would be a good day to shop for her new
car. She had meant only to window-shop, but, when she came across
THE car, her DREAM CAR...and reputed to be one of the very few like
it in the whole state, she just had to have it. She put down a
$500 deposit, charged to her credit card, so that the dealership
would hold the prize until Monday. And she was so ecstatic and
full of charity, in fact, that she decided to go easy on her mother
for the remainder of the weekend.
They ate in the hotel dining room again. This time, however,
Jennifer was positively giddy. And, in spite of all the trials
and humiliations she had suffered, Barbie was actually happy for
her, as well. Even as Barbie sat primly on her pillow, she smiled
at Jenny's delight. She could bear no grudge, for she had merely
gotten what she'd deserved. And perhaps she'd deserved it for some
time....
During their dinner, Fred took a message from Jennifer's credit
card company, which urgently needed to reach her. She had been
using her card a lot the last few days, and she was now over her
limit. The card company had okayed the $500 charge to the the car
dealership, but wanted her to know that her card was maxed out by
twelve dollars. The company rep had said they would be happy to
extend her limit, however, and all she had to do was phone them.
But she did have to phone before attempting to use the card again.
Fred promised that he would pass the message along.
He then called the dining room hostess and asked to be informed
if the two women at table three asked for any liquor and if they
charged their meals. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, Jenny
ordered a small glass of wine, and signed for the meals.
Chuckling, Fred picked up the phone.
-----
Uninformed And Uniformed Part 6
UNINFORMED AND UNIFORMED
by
C. Lakewood
JENNY AND BARBIE MEET THE SHERIFF AND ARE INTRODUCED TO PADDYWELL.
Part 6
As he dialed the phone, Fred Dobbs whistled a brief, merry tune --
something he recalled hearing recently at the Mayfair Burlesque.
But he didn't have long to wait.
"Ah, yes.... This is Fred, over at the hotel. Is the Sheriff
around? I've got a 'situation' here that'll interest him...."
******************************
Not long afterward, Jenny was roused from a "Project Runway" re-run
by a peremptory knock on the door. Her visitor turned out to be a
tall, burly man with a complexion like rare roast beef, wearing a
a uniform and a badge.
He touched the brim of his Stetson. "Miz...Wilson? I'm the
Sheriff hereabouts. Sorry to bother you at this time of evening,
but I need to ask some questions, and the sooner the better.
Alright if I come in?"
Jenny blinked. This was rather ominous. And, besides, she was
wearing only the robe provided by the hotel and was nervous at
being next to naked in this situation. (The robe seemed
considerably shorter than it had a moment before.)
"Well...um...I suppose so...."
He entered, closing the room door behind him. He moved lightly
for a big man.
"You're Miz Jennifer Wilson? Have some ID?"
Jenny handed over her driver's license and asked, "What's this
about, Sheriff?"
He frowned. "This'll go a lot smoother if you'll just let ME ask
the questions." Jenny nodded. He glanced at her license and
handed it back. "Who else is here with you?"
"My...um...daughter, Barbie. She's taking a shower at the moment."
<a name="more"></a>
The Sheriff banged on the bathroom door. "This is the Sheriff!
C'mon out here...right now!"
Two minutes later, clad only in a damp t-shirt of Jenny's, Barbie
timidly shuffled out of the bathroom.
"This your daughter, Miz Wilson?"
"Um...yes, this is Barbie."
"ID?"
"Oh, well, sh-she's still too young...just an adolescent...."
"So it appears. How old is she?"
"Um...um...th-thirteen...."
"Okay. Then can you explain how an 18-year-old (which your
license says you are) has a 13-year-old daughter?"
"Oh, well...she's adopted...."
"Uh-huh."
"But what difference does it make, Sheriff?"
"I thought we'd agreed that I would ask the questions."
"Um...."
"Well?"
"Y-yes, sir...."
"Fine. You have documentation of this...adoption?"
"Well, n-not with me, of course, Sheriff."
"Uh-huh. Alright, Miz Wilson, let's stop tap-dancing, whatsay?
Maybe you're aware that because of the new security laws -- state
and federal -- it's a crime to...'knowingly falsify personal data
when so doing might impede an official investigation....'"
He could recite from memory the best parts of these laws, but he
chose to read the Miranda Warning off a card -- and he then
proceeded to do exactly that.
"Am-am I under arrest?" Jenny gasped.
"You're asking questions again...." He looked at her sadly, with
barely contained disappointment. "I'm hoping I won't have to put
you in jail, so you'd best be straight with me. Now, is Barbie at
least 18 years old?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"In that case, I hereby present you with these warrants, duly
signed by his-honor-the-mayor, remanding you both to Paddywell
Academy, pending further investigation. The present charge is
'33833.8 PC: Credit Card Fraud' -- but more can be added later."
Paddywell!
Though she had been teasing Barbie about Paddywell, she hadn't
really fantasized about it in detail. Now she began racking her
memory to dredge up what various people had told her about the
place.
It was a private reformatory for women aged 18 to 40, set up along
boarding school lines.... The women ("girls") were often sent
there for various petty offenses -- such as overdue library books,
parking violations, jaywalking, and insolence -- though some were
serving time for more serious things, such as trespassing,
shoplifting, disorderly conduct, misdemeanor vagrancy, and lewd
behavior (not to mention marital insubordination).... And the
girls were well-supervised by the staff -- the predominantly male
staff.... Both the headmaster, Dr. Leamus, and the Provost, Prof.
Lakewood, in particular had reputations as clever and accomplished
disciplinarians and prided themselves on turning the rottenest
delinquents into nice, polite little girls.
Jenny shuddered, but was surprised and chagrined to find the
beginnings of a tingling between her legs.
Doubly distracted, she was slow to react when the Sheriff turned
her about and cuffed her hands behind her back.
"Do you have to...?" she blurted.
"Yep," he replied, laconically, and handcuffed Barbie, as well.
"But-but credit card fraud?" Jenny persisted. "I don't know
anything about any credit card fraud. You're making a BIG
mistake, Sheriff. Who says fraud?
He ignored her and herded them both toward the door.
"Can't we get dressed?" Barbie whined.
"Nope." And he ushered them out.
They went down two flights and into the lobby. Padding barefooted
and handcuffed across the parquet, to the amazement of several
guests and the amusement of Fred Dobbs, Jenny became aware that
she had something else to be concerned about -- the knot in her
sash was beginning to slip.
"Holy Crap!" she thought. "What else is going to happen?"
The knot, however, held (barely), and she slid into the back of
the Sheriff's prowl car without a major incident. But Barbie was
not so lucky. With her hands cuffed behind her, there was no way
she preserve her modesty, and getting into the car rucked the
bottom of her t-shirt up around her waist. The Sheriff looked
in at her and, with a perfectly straight face, said, "Now don't
you be getting my upholstery messy, young lady...."
******************************
It took only 5 or 6 minutes to get from the hotel to Paddywell
in the Sheriff's cruiser. The Academy occupied a great, grim,
Gothic building atop a low hill. It was guarded first by a
massive stone wall. An ornate iron gate swung open, apparently
automatically, as the Sheriff drove up to it. Just inside the
outer wall there was a manicured lawn, perhaps 100 yards deep,
and, beyond that, another fence...a wire one, possibly
electrified. Jenny imagined that the guard dogs prowled
this grassy area, though she didn't see any.
When she exited the car, Jenny's sash just gave up, and her robe
parted. She crouched, with a pitiful little squeal, but she was
summarily jerked to her feet and hustled up the broad limestone
steps into the "school."
Of course, no one offered to close her robe and re-tie the sash.
As she was hurried along, she couldn't prevent the robe from
streaming out behind her, revealing many of her choicest
attributes. Somewhere along their route, the sash dropped
to the ground unnoticed and was left behind.
Inside, it was very quiet, except for the faint sounds of Jenny's
and Barbie's bare feet on the terrazzo floor. (The Sheriff moved
silently.) There was a heavy-lidded middle-aged man on duty at
what must have been a reception desk; he nodded to the Sheriff in
passing. The only other people about were bored, slowly-moving
cleaning crew.
The Sheriff marched his prisoners down the broad main hallway to
the end, into a quaint Edwardian-style elevator, and then, on the
top floor, along a lushly carpeted corridor to a heavy mahogany
door.
"Headmaster's study," the Sheriff growled. "Mind your manners."
He knocked on the door as a formality and opened it without waiting
for a response.
The room was spacious, but at the same time seemed cozy. Barbie
was impressed; this was her kind of place. Aside from the stereo
(Tchaikovsky...5th Symphony, wasn't it?) and the PC in the far
corner, the book-lined study might have been as it was a century
or more ago. Even the telephone and the electric lights appeared
antique. There were red Bokharas on the floor, three Toby jugs on
the slate mantel, and a number of military and naval paintings on
the walls.
There were two men in the room. One, wearing a dark sweater, was
sitting behind the massive desk, looking over his steepled fingers,
staring off into the middle distance, apparently rapt by the music.
He had sharp features, and both his brown hair and thin moustache
showed some touches of grey. The other man, older and heavier, was
sitting in a red leather wing chair near the fire, a glass in his
hand and a square decanter and a soda-water syphon at his elbow.
He was a study in various shades of grey -- short hair, bushy
eyebrows, thick moustache, baggy tweed suit -- his only concession
to color was a repp tie, dark red with blue stripes edged in gold.
He lifted his glass to acknowledge the Sheriff, who nodded back
amiably.
The man at the desk continued to listen to the music until the
end of the movement, then turned it down a bit. With a somewhat
ambiguous expression, he gazed at Jenny and Barbie and said, "I
am Dr. Leamus and this is my colleague, Prof. Lakewood. You two
are the Wilson girls, I presume...."
Barbie, who had been lost in her admiration for this room, was
suddenly wrenched back to reality.
Jenny spoke up. "There's been a huge mistake...."
He held up his hand. "Hmmm. Sheriff, I think the handcuffs are
not needed."
The Sheriff nodded and removed both pairs of cuffs.
"Thank you, sir," Jenny said, rubbing her wrists.
Dr. Leamus continued speaking to the Sheriff. "Now, let's have a
look at them."
Without changing expression, the Sheriff reached out with his left
hand, grasped the bottom of Barbie's t-shirt, and whisked it off
over her head -- while, at the same time, he pulled off Jenny's
robe with as much style and grace as Manolete handling a cape.
Barbie managed to take it stoically, but Jenny shrieked and fell
into a crouch.
All three men looked at Jenny sadly. "Tsk, tsk," said Lakewood.
He sighed. "I expected a LITTLE more discipline."
"Oh, yes...disgraceful," Leamus agreed. "But the little one is
controlling herself well. Already shaved, too." He smiled at
Barbie. "And I'm informed that you already have your Academy
uniform."
"Y-yes, sir...."
"Admirable. We'll fetch it from the hotel. Of course, you'll have
to be processed tomorrow, just like your...well, whatever this
other girl is.... But, after that, I imagine you'll be on your way
to becoming an honor student." He turned his attention then to
Jenny, whom the Sheriff had pulled to her feet and re-cuffed. As
for you, young lady, I can see we'll have be stringent -- very
stringent -- with you if we're to correct your deficiencies." He
shook his head. "No, I'm afraid that filthy patch of hair between
your legs just can't be allowed to remain even until morning.
We'll have it off tonight." He reached for a manila folder lying
in his in-box. "Now, who's on duty at this hour?"
Lakewood downed his drink. "Doesn't matter. I'll take of it."
The headmaster beamed. "Excellent. Most generous of you."
"Not at all. I like to keep my hand in...as it were."
Leamus glared at Jenny. "And you should be thanking Prof.
Lakewood, girl. Ingratitude is not tolerated here."
"Th-thank you, sir," Jenny managed. "But...."
"'But' nothing," Leamus went on. "And, since you don't have a
proper uniform, you must do without for a while, until you can
earn enough credits to pay for one.... But, for the present,
you can continue to wear those cuffs, as your uniform."
"You-you can't do that...can't hold us just like that. I'm
expected back at school. I'll be missed...."
He heaved a sigh. "So many entering students insist that I can't
do this or that, but I keep doing it anyway.... And it's all quite
legal, isn't it Sheriff?"
"Quite legal."
"Incidentally, girl, what school do you attend?"
"Doeville State."
"A fine institution. We have very good connections there, so we
needn't concern ourselves there. Starting tomorrow, you will rise
at 7:00, lunch at noon, dine at 5:00, and usually be in bed by
8:00. The rest of the day will be filled up with classes and
work assignments. Do well, and you'll earn credits -- which will
result in priviledges -- do poorly, and you'll get demerits....
Tomorrow, of course, will be slightly different, since much of
the morning will be taken up by the processing procedures. So...."
"Excuse me, Alec," Lakewood interjected. "But how long has it been
since you've processed a student personally?"
Leamus looked nostalgic. "Personally? Oh, quite some time...."
"The good old days, right? So why don't we take a trip down memory
lane and do these two tonight? The Sheriff might even like to lend
a hand."
"Sounds like a plan," the Sheriff replied.
"You've talked me into it," the headmaster said. He rose from
behind his desk with a smile twitching at his moustache. "Let's
go."
Barbie, the potential honor student, suspected things were going
to get worse before they got better.
by
Father Jim and C. Lakewood
THE PLOT CONTINUES TO THICKEN, AS A NEW PLAYER BECOMES A PLAYER.
Part 4
Fred Dobbs, the hotel manager, watched Jennifer cross the road
and enter the YWCA with keen interest. He was somewhat let down
that the woman's daughter had obviously escaped the promised
spanking, but, when he saw Jennifer returning and read the
determined expression on her face, he was certain that proper
retribution was soon to follow. And follow, it did.
Before Jennifer had even finished re-crossing the street, Fred
had called his subordinate and excused himself for a break. He
slipped upstairs and, using his passkey, let himself into the
suite adjoining Jennifer's room. There was a double-doored
connection between the two rooms that, when closed, afforded
a great deal of privacy, but, once one of the doors was opened,
the sounds from the adjoining room left little to the imagination.
He pulled up a chair, leaned his ear to the door, and listened.
He didn't have to wait long to be rewarded on his hunch. He heard
the entire exchange concerning the computer use and leading up to
the moment Barbie's pants were coming down. But what he heard next
sent him for a loop.
Just as Jenny started to unzip Barbie's pants, Barbie decided
enough was enough. "Look, this just isn't right. You can't do
this! Jennifer, you simply can't treat your mother like this!"
"Oh, you really did it now, Barbie! What did I tell you about
using my first name?"
SMACK! SMACK!
"Okay! I'm sorry!"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I'm sorry...Mother!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Alright, alright alright! I'm sorry, Mommy! But, please, just
pull my panties back up. They hardly offer any protection, and
it's not right for you to see me this way."
"If I remember correctly, 'you're never too old for a spanking,'
and 'naughty girls get spanked BARE.' Right?"
"Yes, M-mommie!"
"Good. Now, before I start, let's get something straight. You
made a deal, and you're going to stick to it, whether you like it
or not. I can call Paddywell any time and drop you off there. Got
it? I'm sure they can come up with some ways to make your weekend
much more unpleasant than what I have planned for you. So, you
behave yourself and act the dutiful, obedient daughter you are
supposed to be, or, so help me, Daddy and I will be visiting you ;
on weekends and holidays at Paddywell!"
Fred Dobbs was beside himself. The wheels in his brain were
spinning. "So, I have two little fakes, do I? Well, we'll just
have to see what we can do about that." As hotel manager, he was
of course very familiar with cheating spouses who used the hotel
as a love nest, and, with this familiarity, there came a certain
amount of boredom, more often than not nowadays. But here was
something new...different...exciting. It intrigued him and
practically demanded he assume a part in this unusual and
compelling psychodrama.
"Now, Barbie, I'm going to put you over my knee and hand-spank you
soundly. If you behave -- and take your spanking like a good
little girl -- I may go easier on you, but, mark my words, one
sign of obstinacy out of you, and I'm going to take this slipper
and give you the tanning of your life, young lady! Am I
understood?"
Barbara sniffed back a developing tear, and, with her head down in
shame, she replied,"Yes, mommie!"
Fred was then treated to quite an audio show. The spanking started
slowly at first, and all that was heard was the smacking sounds of
Jennifer's hand on Barbie's upturned bottom. But, by the twentieth
smack, Barbie was beginning to sound desperate. Soon, each swat
produced a squeal of anguish...and, soon after, sobbing and
downright pleading. He yearned to open the inner door a crack
and get a look of the goings-on, but he feared discovery and an
untimely end to Barbie's ordeal. He was hoping against hope that
she would rebel and so suffer the slipper, and, sure enough, the
next smack produced a squeal followed by a string of invectives
that would have made a sailor blush.
"That is quite enough, Jennifer; I AM your mother!" Barbie managed
to choke out between sobs. "I will not get back over your knee.
This farce has gone on more than long enough!"
"Oh, so the little girl decides when she's had enough punishment,
then? NOT! I'm sorry, but you brought this on yourself."
Barbie let out a shriek, and a brief struggle ensued, but it ended
with the sharp sound of leather on skin. Barbie howled!
"Now, about that language! When we get home, you're going to tell
Mr. Peepers just how you were properly punished and ask for his
forgiveness. If I even think that you are holding back, so help
me, I'll let him punish you, himself!"
All the while, the sound of tanned leather connecting with female
flesh filled the room in counterpoint to Barbie's screams of pain
and outrage.
"Now, open your mouth! Yes, that's it, and hold this bar of soap
in there. No, don't even think of spitting it out. If you do
before I'm finished, I'll start all over again, and I swear you
won't have a heinie left to sit on! Now, let's get on with it!"
Fred was thrilled. This pseudo-girl, whom he had thought just a
brat, was now getting the licking of her life from her very own
daughter, and, he was hearing every detail.
Barbie, for her part, was experiencing the worst day of her life.
Standing naked from the waist down, she realized that her dampening
crotch was right at Jenny's eye (and nose!) level. Then, the
spanking! Omigod! First of all, how could she ever face her
daughter again? And second.... She tried to be brave, but she
hadn't counted on Jenny really doing it, really skinning her ass
like she had done to her in the past. She had not counted on the
pain. She knew that giving birth to Jennifer HAD been worse than
the hand-spanking, but she wasn't so sure about the slippering.
She was reduced to carrying on like...well, like a child. She
begged, promising anything to stop the spanking...to get out of
the deal. And, in the end, she became what she was being punished
for seeming: a snivelling brat who deserved everything she was
getting. She had even sworn like a stevedore, and now had the
soap in her mouth to prove it. It all was so disgusting, and she
wasn't sure just how much more she could take.
Jennifer was all business. She wasn't going to let her mom off
easy. She had a job to do, and her mother had a lesson to learn,
and both were going to be accomplished. No, she wasn't hitting
her mother with ALL her strength, perhaps, but she wasn't loafing,
either. She wanted the lesson to last. After all, how often would
she get this chance?
Barbie's screams of pain, now muffled by the bar of soap and her
constant gagging, eventually died down to a muted sobbing. The
smacking sounds continued for a while, but, much too soon for Fred,
the spanking eventually came to an end. All in all, it had been a
most enjoyable interlude, and he now found it difficult to stand
up. He'd have to take care of that little problem before he could
go back to the desk. He heard Jennifer order Barbie to spit out
the soap, rinse, and spit again...then go to the corner. He
quietly closed the adjoining door and let himself out, quickly
making his way to the restroom to relieve his obvious condition,
and thence back to the front desk.
After a few minutes' corner time, Barbie was summoned to the
bathroom. Jenny had one more humiliation for her: Barbie was
going to get shaved.
As Jennie prepared and laid out the shaving things, she began
to get a squirmy feeling. She had an idea that she was going
to enjoy this perhaps more than she should....
Some time later, bare as a baby and pink as a watermelon, Barbie
again stood in the corner, mourning the loss of the last vestige
of her womanhood.
******************************
Perhaps half an hour afterward, the manager looked up to quite a
delightful sight. Barbie stood at the counter. Her face was a
mask of misery, eyes red and swollen. She was a girl (well, a
woman) in obvious discomfort. She was blushing furiously. He
tried to act as if he had no idea of her condition and looked
from Barbie's pained expression to Jennifer's triumphant one.
He liked the contrast.
"May I help you, young lady?"
Barbie colored even redder, if that were possible, and, sobbing
and hiccupping, she told her story of woe, including every detail.
Fred, of course, knew everything she said was true, yet did his
best to seem amazed and sympathetic about Barbie's situation,
and he looked genuinely concerned throughout her apology and
confession. But he also, from time to time, expressed disbelief
or feigned misunderstanding and compelled Barbie to repeat some
of the most humiliating parts.
In the end, he assumed a judgmental manner and a patronizing tone
of voice.
"Well, young lady, I see that your mother has done the right thing
and, I hope, has taught you a very valuable lesson.... I can't,
however, just write off those computer charges. After all, you DID
use it, correct?"
Stricken, Barbie turned to Jenny with pleading eyes. Jenny just
snapped at her, "Don't you look at me, young lady! You made the
choice -- so deal with it!"
Barbie looked back to the manager. Inside, she was seething. If
this had happened last week, when she was in her crisp business
suit and wearing her doctor's name tag, this man would have been
falling all over himself to grovel at her feet and write off the
stupid nine dollar charge. Now, just because he thought her a
child, he was making her jump through hoops and treating her like
dirt.
"But I have no money, s-sir. Maybe I could earn the money...clean
some rooms or something."
"No, I'm sorry. There are all sorts of hotel regulations about
that sort of thing. Liabilities.... Nope, you'll just have to
pay."
Jennifer interjected, "Sir, my m- my daughter has been rude and
disobedient. She has been properly punished by me, but perhaps
what you had said earlier could be of some help. You remarked
that discipline should be thorough to be effective. Perhaps if
you yourself made certain that the discipline was thorough enough,
then you could see fit to waive the fee?"
Throughout the earlier spanking, Fred had kicked himself that the
rooms did not have surveillance cameras. But if what she seemed
to be implying....
"Well.... It's highly irregular, but I think I see your point.
Take the charges out of her hide, so to speak. Not a bad idea.
You do realize, however, that I'm on duty and can't leave the desk.
She'd have to be punished right here, right behind the counter."
Getting your bare bottom spanked in private by your daughter is
devastating, but getting it spanked in public by a total stranger
that you already totally dislike is worse, especially if it's a
bottom that's already so sore that sitting will be a torment for
days.
Barbie looked back and forth between the two and shouted, "NO
FUCKING WAY!"
One glance at the look on Jenny's face told her that she had, once
again, gone too far. Jenny reached into her purse and pulled out
the slipper and the dreaded soap. "Sir, I believe my daughter will
be needing these to pay off her debt!"
Fred just smiled and guided Barbie back around the counter. He
pulled a straight back chair away from the night auditor's desk
and placed it with its back to the counter. There was method to
his madness. The security camera would capture this Kodak moment
for future viewing, and he could relive every bit of this little
minx's punishment again and again. He sat down, his back to the
counter, and dragged Barbie to his side. As he began to undo her
shorts, she started to protest.
He looked to Jennifer and said, tartly, "I believe all spankings
should be given on the bare, don't you?"
Jenny smiled. "Of course, proceed!"
As he slowly and painfully dragged Barbie's pants and panties down
over her still-tingling bottom, he began to lecture her.
"Now, young lady, I can see from the condition of your little red
caboose that your mother did a good job. It's obvious she truly
cares about you. I'm half-tempted to let you off this time, but
I feel it would be a wrong for you to miss out on this learning
opportunity. So, I'm going to compromise. I'm going to put this
bar of soap in your mouth and give you only nine swats of the
slipper, one for each dollar you owe. If you hold the soap, the
debt will be paid, but, if you drop the soap, we'll start all over
again at 'One.' Understand?"
Barbie was now pants down, prone across this loathsome man's lap.
All she could do was nod her head in agreement and wait for the
worst. She didn't have long to wait. Her butt was already sore,
and Fred was a grown man, so the first swat stung so badly that
she spit out the soap.
"Well, that one doesn't count. Keep that up, and we'll be here all
day!"
The spanking started again. Barbie was beside herself, screaming,
gagging on the soap, and writhing in pain and humiliation. But
now, no matter what, she wouldn't again let go of that hated soap.
In the middle of it, a woman came into the lobby and, startled,
stood quietly by and watched. Soon after, a businessman and his
wife came in. They watched four swats before the wife made a
disgusted face and left with her husband in tow. Finally, as the
last three swats were administered, a middle-class family of four
-- husband, wife, son, and daughter (who would turn out to be
19-year-old twins) -- walked into the lobby and also stood quietly,
observing the finish. Jenny had noticed all these arrivals and had
smiled at each in turn.
Fred pulled the sobbing Barbie to her feet. She was totally
oblivious to the fact that she was standing there, pants and
panties at her ankles, her hairless crotch on display, sobbing
and gently nursing an obviously well-punished behind while a
number of people had gathered to watch. At last, despite her
tears and blubbered apologies to the manager, she finally became
aware of the onlookers. She let out a squawk and bent over,
trying to hide herself...not very successfully. For that matter,
the spectators had already seen practically all there was to see.
Their individual reactions, however, would remain to be seen.
Jenny thanked Fred for disciplining her daughter and dragged Barbie
back to their room. Barbie was devastated. All of those people
had seen her bare from the waist down...had seen her spanked...and
had seen her almost cum in the process....
Meanwhile, the woman that had come into the lobby had actually come
to complain about her room -- she had found a gum-wrapper under her
bed. But, as she watched the weeping Barbie limping away, she
abruptly changed her mind and decided that everything was just
fine after all. When Fred asked if he could help her, she forced
a smile, shook her head, and scurried back to the safety of her
room (where she spent some "quality time" with herself).
The middle-brow family checked in, somewhat nervously. As they
made their way toward their rooms, the father was overheard to
hiss, "You kids, I don't want to hear any more bickering -- and
you will not trash this room." He turned to his wife. "And this
time, you leave the towels and stuff here." The rest of the
family chirped unanimous agreement.
About a half-hour later, the businessman who had been in earlier
returned and inquired as to the reason for the young girl's
punishment. Fred shrugged, smiled, and mentioned it was because
of unauthorized use of the room computer. The man just nodded in
approval and checked in. As he finished, he laid a crisp new
hundred dollar bill on the counter and asked, "What time do you
get off tonight?"
Fred looked at the hundred and then at the man. "Ten o'clock.
Why?"
"That hundred says my wife will commit the same offense by 10
tonight, and if her bottom looks like that young lady's by 11,
there'll be another hundred for you. Okay?"
Fred nodded, picked up the bill, folded it, and put it into his
pocket. Grinning broadly, he thought, "This is going to be one
hell of a memorable night!"
Meanwhile, in their room, Barbie was back in her corner. She was
furious with Jenny for subjecting her to such public humiliation --
and with that wretched man, too. And she was certain the threat
about Mr. Peepers was not an idle one. Of course, she was also
afraid of getting another damn slippering if she stepped out of
line. She spit...again. She knew she'd be tasting soap for days.
How had she gotten herself into this mess?
Jenny, in the meantime, was thinking about dinner and decided that
they would eat in the hotel. So, about 7 p.m., the two made their
way to the dining room, which was just off the lobby. Barbie was
mortified; her bottom was so sore that she had been forced to
bring along one of the large foam pillows from the bed. She
quickly put it on her chair -- out of sight, she hoped -- and
gingerly lowered herself onto it. But it took several minutes
of fidgeting and a stern threat from Jenny of another public
spanking to finally get Barbie to sit still and look over the
menu. She chose inappropriately, however, and Jenny had to
correct her order from lobster, etc. to mac and cheese, a peanut ,
butter sandwich, milk, and jello.
Whether it was the hours of crying, or the energy she had expended
struggling through her spankings, Barbie was famished. The
kiddie's meal was almost too much for her to bear. She was just
about to cry.
Jenny looked at Barbie and, with the cold conviction of a mother
who knows what's good for her daughter, ordered her to sit up
straight, quit acting up, and eat her meal. Barbie grudgingly sat
up and ate her kiddie food in silence.
The family of four that had witnessed the spanking came in just as
Jenny and Barbie were finishing. The boy saw the pillow first and
pointed it out to his sister. She giggled and told her parents.
Soon the whole family was rudely gawking at Barbie, and she knew
it.
"Mom, can we go? They're laughing at me."
"Now, Barbie, if you hadn't misbehaved, they would have nothing to
laugh at. Besides, it's probably good for them to see what happens
to kids when they're naughty. Gosh, you act as if they'd never
seen someone get spanked before."
Truth be told, they hadn't, until today. In fact, they had never
been spanked themselves. Unfortunately for both them AND their
mother, that condition would soon change. If no one else had
been favorably impressed by the show, the father certainly had
been, and he used what he had learned on all three of his family
that very same night. And the night after.
The drive back home was the quietest and pleasantest part of the
trip.
After Jenny finished her surf n' turf, she lingered a while over
after-dinner coffee while Barbie just sat and stewed. She asked
permission to go pee, but that was denied. Another cross to bear.
She knew that all those people thought she was just a naughty
little girl who was getting exactly what she had deserved. If
they only knew the truth, that they had witnessed a full-grown,
professional woman spanked on her bare bottom, they would have
been flabbergasted. She hated the way they looked at her and
smiled their superior, knowing smiles. They were relishing the
thought of her sore, red behind. She mentally relived what that
bastard manager had done to her and squirmed at the memory. He had
had spanked her so hard, and he'd enjoyed it. His thick hard-on
had pressed against her stomach...and she wondered, momentarily,
what it might look like...if it was really as big as it had felt.
He had spanked her mercilessly, and then had the gall to wink at
her as she and Jenny passed the desk on their way to dinner.
Barbie hated the fact that she had been manhandled so easily, both
by him AND by her own daughter. But, even more, she hated "corner
time." That half-hour standing in the corner was awful. It seemed
endless, and endlessly boring, with nothing to do but re-live the
pain and humiliation over and over again.
Though, if it was such torment (and it WAS), why was she so wet
between the legs?
No! She refused to think about that.
Besides, some of this -- much of it -- was sort of her own fault.
She knew that she should have been able to act with maturity -- for
example, to watch her tongue rather than cussing out Mr. Peepers
like a common guttersnipe. She also knew that she deliberately
called Jenny by her first name in a stupid attempt to prolong her
superior status, and she had intentionally chosen to use the
computer knowing it would leave Jennifer no option but to punish
her. She had to admit that she had misbehaved.... Yes, just like
a naughty child, she had "asked for it" and had gotten it.
Ever since this damn arrangement had begun, she had been acting
more and more viscerally and less rationally. She knew from
training and experience how to analyze problems and manipulate
people. Why couldn't she seem to utilize those skills now? Was
she reverting to adolescent behavior just because people were
expecting it of her? Or was there a darker reason?
All this actually hurt worse than either spanking. Later,
after she had been put to bed, she continued to stew about
it, fruitlessly, and finally cried herself to sleep....
******************************
UNINFORMED AND UNIFORMED
by
Father Jim and C. Lakewood
FUN IN THE SHOWER, A SWIMMING LESSON, AND, AS THEY USED TO SAY,
SOME "DIRTY WORK AT THE CROSS-ROADS."
Part 5
Barbie was awakened by a sharp slap on her upturned bottom. She'd
spent the night face-down (and she realized, with chagrin, that she
had a hand inside her panties). She hoped Jenny hadn't noticed,
but the expression on her face suggested that she had.
Then she removed all doubt.
"I'm sorry I didn't think to bring your vibrator, Barbie. I know
how horny girls of your age get at the least little thing...."
And then she giggled -- giggled!
Jenny had already gotten up, showered, ordered breakfast, and
dressed. During her own shower, Barbie examined her bottom and
was relieved to see that there was no bruising. It was still red,
though, and tender. She stood under the hot water for a long time,
luxuriating in the heat and the feel of the needle spray on her
breasts, tummy, and crotch...especially her crotch....
"The nerve of that girl...making cracks about my vibrator," she
fumed. "I suppose she'd want me to demonstrate it, next.... Oh,
god! Having to m-mas-masturbate in front of her.... How wicked!
I'd HAVE to, though, if she ordered me. I'd have to...just....
Oh, god...oh...ohh...ooohh!"
By the time she emerged from the steamy bathroom, the food had
arrived: bacon, eggs, biscuits, orange juice, and coffee for
Jenny; mush and milk for Barbie. Ravenous, she ate her swill
in silence.
At last Jenny finished her coffee, glanced at her watch, and
announced, "Okay, sleepyhead, hurry up. Swim class in half an
hour."
"Aaaaah! I forgot all about that. But, please. I'm still much
too sore for any kind of physical workout this morning. Can't we
just skip that...Mommie?"
"Don't be silly. It'll be good for you.... Besides, you've
already had a workout, of sorts, while you were in the shower.
Right?"
Barbie blushed and nodded.
"Right?"
"Yes, Mommie.... I-I couldn't help it...."
"Hormones made you do it? Well, maybe...maybe not."
******************************
Twenty minutes later the two were walking past the front desk when
Fred cleared his throat and called to Jennifer. He handed her
"THE" slipper and thanked her for loaning it to him. She smiled
and tucked it into her purse. "Actually," she said, "I don't think
Barbie thanked you sufficiently last night for her spanking. Go
on, dear, thank the nice man.
"Th-thank you, s-sir, for s-sp-panking me. I'm trying to be a good
girl...."
Damn! She could feel her panties getting damp again.
******************************
Not ten minutes after mother and daughter had continued on to
the YWCA (with Fred relishing the fact that he knew which was
which...and wondering exactly how he could best employ that
knowledge), he looked up to see the businessman's wife coming
toward him. She was quite attractive, mid-forties, blonde hair
stylishly done, trim figure well taken care of -- in short, a
woman who was the center of attention wherever she happened to
be, and clearly accustomed to the finer things of life. Looking
at her now, however, it was obvious that something wasn't right.
Even her perfect make-up couldn't camouflage her red and swollen
eyes. And she appeared to be walking rather stiffly, as if each
move was painful. She sniffled and said, in a soft and trembling
"I am sorry for causing you to sp-spank me last night, and I want
to...sniff...apologize for my actions and thank you for my-my
punishment.... Your hotel...sniff...is wonderful, and we hope
to use...sniff, sniff...use your fine services again.... Often."
At this, she turned stiffly and limped away, one hand hovering near
her rump.
Fred had a dreamy expression on his face as he re-played his vivid
memories of her pretty bottom, bare, wagging to and fro under the
Turkish slipper. He patted the two crisp c-notes in his pocket and
watched the woman painfully seat herself in their Mercedes. Hurry
back, now!
******************************
At the YWCA, Jennifer and Barbie headed straight for the area
marked, "POOL."
"Yes? Can I help you?" a husky voice asked.
The woman was tall and lanky, with short, black hair and olive
skin. Late 30s, maybe. She was wearing a damp t-shirt, loose
shorts, and a whistle on a lanyard -- and apparently nothing else.
She was attractive, if you liked the type. Barbie thought she was
probably a "lipstick lesbian."
"Yes," Jenny replied. "Miss Girardo? My daughter's signed up for
a beginner's swim lesson."
"Okay. We'll be running just a little late today. The others in
the class won't be here for a while. You weren't informed?"
Jenny shook her head.
"No matter. My instructors are here. This'll just give us the
opportunity for...'personalized' instruction."
Barbie didn't like the way that sounded, but it didn't seem to
bother Jenny at all.
"I'll just leave Barbie in your hands, then. I'm anxious to try
the frappuccino back in the glassed-in lounge area -- I've heard
people rave about it. Incidentally, she doesn't have a suit."
Miss Girardo grinned, showing her very white teeth. "Don't worry
about that. Go on and enjoy the lounge." She looked down at
Barbie. "First thing for you, kid, is a shower."
"I just had a shower," Barbie retorted.
"Doesn't make any difference. State law requires a verified shower
before you enter the pool area. Come along. Little girls can't
shower without adult supervision."
Barbie, of course, was pissed. She didn't want to undress and
parade around naked in front of a bunch of dykes or a pack of kids,
and she didn't want any swimming lesson...most particularly in the
NUDE. She'd lived this long without swimming, so why start now?
Jennifer, however, had a different view, and all it took was one
glimpse of that damned slipper to convince Barbie that she had
better be obedient on this matter.
Accordingly, she followed "Stretch" into the seedy locker room and
reluctantly began to strip. She longed for the country club
facilities: private shower stalls, each with its own enclosed
changing area.
Here, however, there were just a few dented lockers next to big
gang shower, maybe 25 feet square. A series of sprinkler pipes
ran along the ceiling above the shower area, and there were a
number of drain grates set into the floor. Pretty crude. No
walls, no modesty panels, no curtains....
She was just handing the coach her panties when two damp
20-somethings in black tank suits came in, a stocky Latina
and a lithe redhead.
"Who's this, Myra?" Red asked.
"Barbie...Barbie Wilson," the head coach answered. "She's a
beginner and obviously a little shy, poor thing.... Barbie!
You get along to the shower, now, and don't waste time."
As Barbie obediently turned toward the big gang shower, the Latina
spoke up. "From the looks of her butt, it appears little Barbie's
had a recent spanking. She might as well be wearing a sign."
The coach laughed. "Yes, and if you'll take a glance at her
crotch, you'll see why, probably."
"Ahhh! So you like to play with yourself, huh, chica?"
The redhead snapped a towel at Barbie's tender bottom. "Answer
her, brat!"
"Aaaaa! Please! YES! Yes, I-I like to...."
"O-kay. So, get your rosy little butt into that shower, and make
real sure you scrub EVERYWHERE...or we'll have to get in there and
give you a hand," the coach said.
Barbie scurried into the institutional shower...and jumped back
with a squeal as the icy water hit her. She managed to get up
enough nerve to edge back under the frigid spray and lather up.
The cheap soap was no treat, but it could have been worse.
And it got worse. The three women watched closely as she scrubbed
herself from head to toe.... And then, before they'd let her out,
insisted she demonstrate her fingering technique.
******************************
After the shower and the show, she and the three instructors moved
to the pool area. Nobody else had arrived yet.
"Okay, kid," Coach Guardino said. "You can start your warm-ups.
Squats first. Go!"
The three women crowded around Barbie then, as she obediently
spread her legs and commenced doing her squats....
She was very conscious of the sub-text, and it both annoyed her
and seemed to turn her on. And that annoyed her even more.
"Look at how WET she is!" Red said.
"And not from the shower, neither," the Latina added. "She's a
HOT one!"
"I love the way it opens and closes as she's going up and down....
Like she's advertising, or something," Red grinned.
Coach Guardino merely smiled indulgently as her subordinates
prattled on, but she DID have a look in her eye that made
Barbie shiver.
After a number of stretching and loosening exercises, they moved on
to breathing and arm movements, which Barbie had to practice while
standing beside the pool.
At last, appearing bored with the proceedings so far, Coach
Guardino snapped a towel at Barbie's butt-crack, causing her
to stumble a few erratic steps...and tumble into the pool.
She immediately began to flail about and scream for help in the
classic way of drowning females. Her lurid shrieks bounced off
the tiles and echoed around the pool area, sounding like something
out of a slasher movie. Meanwhile, the three women were all
laughing uncontrollably. Though Barbie was appalled that these
people would just stand and laugh at her while she drowned, right
now her panic overrode all other thoughts and emotions, and she
pleaded for help.
"Stand up!" the coach said.
"What? What? Oh, please! (Blub!) Please help me!"
In unison the three shouted, "STAND UP!" Barbie finally let her
feet down and felt the bottom. She had been floundering around in
about three feet of water. Still laughing at this crazy naked
girl with the rosy butt and skillful fingers, the coach grabbed
Barbie's wrist and hauled her over to the ladder and out of the
pool.
Barbie's wits, already frayed, snapped. Sputtering and fuming,
she muttered, "Bitch!" and reflexively pushed hard, sending the
off-balance coach reeling backward to topple ungracefully into
the deep end of the pool.
Apparently Coach Guardino's sense of humor was not very elastic,
for, a moment later, she rose from the pool like wet, grim death,
scrambled out, and made straight for Barbie, who was rooted to
the spot and repeating over and over, "I didn't mean it.... I'm
sooo sorry!"
"You're going to be a lot sorrier," the coach said through gritted
teeth. "It's no wonder that somebody had to tan your backside,
but I guess they didn't do it thoroughly enough.... So, you brat,
get ready for another dose!"
Barbie tried to back away, but she had no escape route. The coach
seized her ear and dragged her over to a pool-side bench and across
her lap. The coach's arm went up...and paused...and....
There suddenly came a shout of "STOP!"
"Thank god!" Barbie gasped.
It was Jennifer, apparently come to save her. But Barbie's relief
was short-lived. Jennifer simply walked up and handed the coach
the slipper (which she had thoughtfully encased in a plastic bag,
to protect it from the damp).
The furious coach immediately accepted it and put it to use. In
the next few minutes, Barbie learned a new lesson, namely that
being spanked on your wet bottom was wickedly painful.
Discarding all modesty and self-control, Barbie carried on as if
she were possessed. She kicked and screamed and thrashed about
with utter abandon. Still, Coach Guardindo, seemingly of some
long-lost Amazon stock, had no problem holding her easily with
one hand, while whaling away mercilessly with the other.
All in all, the spanking was rather brief, but very memorable.
And, when Barbie was let up, she did the traditional dance,
holding her bottom and blubbering incoherently until the coach
pushed her back into the shallow end of the pool.
"There, baby, that should cool you off...."
******************************
Fred looked up to see Jennifer and Barbie crossing the street,
heading back to the hotel. And Barbie was walking the same way
the businessman's wife had earlier.
As the two were passing the desk, Fred delivered a message that
had come for them while they were out.
"It seems your husband will be detained another week," he said to ;
Jenny. "But he should be home by next Sunday. He was sorry he'll
miss the masquerade party, but he wanted you two to go anyway and
have fun. Jennifer just smiled and nodded, though Barbie appeared
unhappy.
Fred then asked, in a smirking, patronizing voice, "Is everything
alright, young lady?"
There was that irritating "young lady" thing that was really
getting on her nerves. "NO, EVERYTHING IS NOT GODDAMN ALRIGHT!
I JUST GOT MY BARE ASS BLISTERED BY SOME AMAZON DYKE! OKAY?
AND NOW I'M GOING BACK TO MY SORRY-ASS ROOM! OKAY?"
That little tantrum proved unwise.
Not ten minutes later, the sound of leather on flesh and Barbie's
barely-muted wails drifted from their room and down the hall. The
hour of silence that followed meant corner time, of course.
Jennifer was determined that, since her father would not be back in
time to enjoy the party, she would ensure that this weekend left a
lasting impression on her mother. Still, she was becoming rather
bored and decided that this would be a good day to shop for her new
car. She had meant only to window-shop, but, when she came across
THE car, her DREAM CAR...and reputed to be one of the very few like
it in the whole state, she just had to have it. She put down a
$500 deposit, charged to her credit card, so that the dealership
would hold the prize until Monday. And she was so ecstatic and
full of charity, in fact, that she decided to go easy on her mother
for the remainder of the weekend.
They ate in the hotel dining room again. This time, however,
Jennifer was positively giddy. And, in spite of all the trials
and humiliations she had suffered, Barbie was actually happy for
her, as well. Even as Barbie sat primly on her pillow, she smiled
at Jenny's delight. She could bear no grudge, for she had merely
gotten what she'd deserved. And perhaps she'd deserved it for some
time....
During their dinner, Fred took a message from Jennifer's credit
card company, which urgently needed to reach her. She had been
using her card a lot the last few days, and she was now over her
limit. The card company had okayed the $500 charge to the the car
dealership, but wanted her to know that her card was maxed out by
twelve dollars. The company rep had said they would be happy to
extend her limit, however, and all she had to do was phone them.
But she did have to phone before attempting to use the card again.
Fred promised that he would pass the message along.
He then called the dining room hostess and asked to be informed
if the two women at table three asked for any liquor and if they
charged their meals. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, Jenny
ordered a small glass of wine, and signed for the meals.
Chuckling, Fred picked up the phone.
-----
Uninformed And Uniformed Part 6
UNINFORMED AND UNIFORMED
by
C. Lakewood
JENNY AND BARBIE MEET THE SHERIFF AND ARE INTRODUCED TO PADDYWELL.
Part 6
As he dialed the phone, Fred Dobbs whistled a brief, merry tune --
something he recalled hearing recently at the Mayfair Burlesque.
But he didn't have long to wait.
"Ah, yes.... This is Fred, over at the hotel. Is the Sheriff
around? I've got a 'situation' here that'll interest him...."
******************************
Not long afterward, Jenny was roused from a "Project Runway" re-run
by a peremptory knock on the door. Her visitor turned out to be a
tall, burly man with a complexion like rare roast beef, wearing a
a uniform and a badge.
He touched the brim of his Stetson. "Miz...Wilson? I'm the
Sheriff hereabouts. Sorry to bother you at this time of evening,
but I need to ask some questions, and the sooner the better.
Alright if I come in?"
Jenny blinked. This was rather ominous. And, besides, she was
wearing only the robe provided by the hotel and was nervous at
being next to naked in this situation. (The robe seemed
considerably shorter than it had a moment before.)
"Well...um...I suppose so...."
He entered, closing the room door behind him. He moved lightly
for a big man.
"You're Miz Jennifer Wilson? Have some ID?"
Jenny handed over her driver's license and asked, "What's this
about, Sheriff?"
He frowned. "This'll go a lot smoother if you'll just let ME ask
the questions." Jenny nodded. He glanced at her license and
handed it back. "Who else is here with you?"
"My...um...daughter, Barbie. She's taking a shower at the moment."
<a name="more"></a>
The Sheriff banged on the bathroom door. "This is the Sheriff!
C'mon out here...right now!"
Two minutes later, clad only in a damp t-shirt of Jenny's, Barbie
timidly shuffled out of the bathroom.
"This your daughter, Miz Wilson?"
"Um...yes, this is Barbie."
"ID?"
"Oh, well, sh-she's still too young...just an adolescent...."
"So it appears. How old is she?"
"Um...um...th-thirteen...."
"Okay. Then can you explain how an 18-year-old (which your
license says you are) has a 13-year-old daughter?"
"Oh, well...she's adopted...."
"Uh-huh."
"But what difference does it make, Sheriff?"
"I thought we'd agreed that I would ask the questions."
"Um...."
"Well?"
"Y-yes, sir...."
"Fine. You have documentation of this...adoption?"
"Well, n-not with me, of course, Sheriff."
"Uh-huh. Alright, Miz Wilson, let's stop tap-dancing, whatsay?
Maybe you're aware that because of the new security laws -- state
and federal -- it's a crime to...'knowingly falsify personal data
when so doing might impede an official investigation....'"
He could recite from memory the best parts of these laws, but he
chose to read the Miranda Warning off a card -- and he then
proceeded to do exactly that.
"Am-am I under arrest?" Jenny gasped.
"You're asking questions again...." He looked at her sadly, with
barely contained disappointment. "I'm hoping I won't have to put
you in jail, so you'd best be straight with me. Now, is Barbie at
least 18 years old?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"In that case, I hereby present you with these warrants, duly
signed by his-honor-the-mayor, remanding you both to Paddywell
Academy, pending further investigation. The present charge is
'33833.8 PC: Credit Card Fraud' -- but more can be added later."
Paddywell!
Though she had been teasing Barbie about Paddywell, she hadn't
really fantasized about it in detail. Now she began racking her
memory to dredge up what various people had told her about the
place.
It was a private reformatory for women aged 18 to 40, set up along
boarding school lines.... The women ("girls") were often sent
there for various petty offenses -- such as overdue library books,
parking violations, jaywalking, and insolence -- though some were
serving time for more serious things, such as trespassing,
shoplifting, disorderly conduct, misdemeanor vagrancy, and lewd
behavior (not to mention marital insubordination).... And the
girls were well-supervised by the staff -- the predominantly male
staff.... Both the headmaster, Dr. Leamus, and the Provost, Prof.
Lakewood, in particular had reputations as clever and accomplished
disciplinarians and prided themselves on turning the rottenest
delinquents into nice, polite little girls.
Jenny shuddered, but was surprised and chagrined to find the
beginnings of a tingling between her legs.
Doubly distracted, she was slow to react when the Sheriff turned
her about and cuffed her hands behind her back.
"Do you have to...?" she blurted.
"Yep," he replied, laconically, and handcuffed Barbie, as well.
"But-but credit card fraud?" Jenny persisted. "I don't know
anything about any credit card fraud. You're making a BIG
mistake, Sheriff. Who says fraud?
He ignored her and herded them both toward the door.
"Can't we get dressed?" Barbie whined.
"Nope." And he ushered them out.
They went down two flights and into the lobby. Padding barefooted
and handcuffed across the parquet, to the amazement of several
guests and the amusement of Fred Dobbs, Jenny became aware that
she had something else to be concerned about -- the knot in her
sash was beginning to slip.
"Holy Crap!" she thought. "What else is going to happen?"
The knot, however, held (barely), and she slid into the back of
the Sheriff's prowl car without a major incident. But Barbie was
not so lucky. With her hands cuffed behind her, there was no way
she preserve her modesty, and getting into the car rucked the
bottom of her t-shirt up around her waist. The Sheriff looked
in at her and, with a perfectly straight face, said, "Now don't
you be getting my upholstery messy, young lady...."
******************************
It took only 5 or 6 minutes to get from the hotel to Paddywell
in the Sheriff's cruiser. The Academy occupied a great, grim,
Gothic building atop a low hill. It was guarded first by a
massive stone wall. An ornate iron gate swung open, apparently
automatically, as the Sheriff drove up to it. Just inside the
outer wall there was a manicured lawn, perhaps 100 yards deep,
and, beyond that, another fence...a wire one, possibly
electrified. Jenny imagined that the guard dogs prowled
this grassy area, though she didn't see any.
When she exited the car, Jenny's sash just gave up, and her robe
parted. She crouched, with a pitiful little squeal, but she was
summarily jerked to her feet and hustled up the broad limestone
steps into the "school."
Of course, no one offered to close her robe and re-tie the sash.
As she was hurried along, she couldn't prevent the robe from
streaming out behind her, revealing many of her choicest
attributes. Somewhere along their route, the sash dropped
to the ground unnoticed and was left behind.
Inside, it was very quiet, except for the faint sounds of Jenny's
and Barbie's bare feet on the terrazzo floor. (The Sheriff moved
silently.) There was a heavy-lidded middle-aged man on duty at
what must have been a reception desk; he nodded to the Sheriff in
passing. The only other people about were bored, slowly-moving
cleaning crew.
The Sheriff marched his prisoners down the broad main hallway to
the end, into a quaint Edwardian-style elevator, and then, on the
top floor, along a lushly carpeted corridor to a heavy mahogany
door.
"Headmaster's study," the Sheriff growled. "Mind your manners."
He knocked on the door as a formality and opened it without waiting
for a response.
The room was spacious, but at the same time seemed cozy. Barbie
was impressed; this was her kind of place. Aside from the stereo
(Tchaikovsky...5th Symphony, wasn't it?) and the PC in the far
corner, the book-lined study might have been as it was a century
or more ago. Even the telephone and the electric lights appeared
antique. There were red Bokharas on the floor, three Toby jugs on
the slate mantel, and a number of military and naval paintings on
the walls.
There were two men in the room. One, wearing a dark sweater, was
sitting behind the massive desk, looking over his steepled fingers,
staring off into the middle distance, apparently rapt by the music.
He had sharp features, and both his brown hair and thin moustache
showed some touches of grey. The other man, older and heavier, was
sitting in a red leather wing chair near the fire, a glass in his
hand and a square decanter and a soda-water syphon at his elbow.
He was a study in various shades of grey -- short hair, bushy
eyebrows, thick moustache, baggy tweed suit -- his only concession
to color was a repp tie, dark red with blue stripes edged in gold.
He lifted his glass to acknowledge the Sheriff, who nodded back
amiably.
The man at the desk continued to listen to the music until the
end of the movement, then turned it down a bit. With a somewhat
ambiguous expression, he gazed at Jenny and Barbie and said, "I
am Dr. Leamus and this is my colleague, Prof. Lakewood. You two
are the Wilson girls, I presume...."
Barbie, who had been lost in her admiration for this room, was
suddenly wrenched back to reality.
Jenny spoke up. "There's been a huge mistake...."
He held up his hand. "Hmmm. Sheriff, I think the handcuffs are
not needed."
The Sheriff nodded and removed both pairs of cuffs.
"Thank you, sir," Jenny said, rubbing her wrists.
Dr. Leamus continued speaking to the Sheriff. "Now, let's have a
look at them."
Without changing expression, the Sheriff reached out with his left
hand, grasped the bottom of Barbie's t-shirt, and whisked it off
over her head -- while, at the same time, he pulled off Jenny's
robe with as much style and grace as Manolete handling a cape.
Barbie managed to take it stoically, but Jenny shrieked and fell
into a crouch.
All three men looked at Jenny sadly. "Tsk, tsk," said Lakewood.
He sighed. "I expected a LITTLE more discipline."
"Oh, yes...disgraceful," Leamus agreed. "But the little one is
controlling herself well. Already shaved, too." He smiled at
Barbie. "And I'm informed that you already have your Academy
uniform."
"Y-yes, sir...."
"Admirable. We'll fetch it from the hotel. Of course, you'll have
to be processed tomorrow, just like your...well, whatever this
other girl is.... But, after that, I imagine you'll be on your way
to becoming an honor student." He turned his attention then to
Jenny, whom the Sheriff had pulled to her feet and re-cuffed. As
for you, young lady, I can see we'll have be stringent -- very
stringent -- with you if we're to correct your deficiencies." He
shook his head. "No, I'm afraid that filthy patch of hair between
your legs just can't be allowed to remain even until morning.
We'll have it off tonight." He reached for a manila folder lying
in his in-box. "Now, who's on duty at this hour?"
Lakewood downed his drink. "Doesn't matter. I'll take of it."
The headmaster beamed. "Excellent. Most generous of you."
"Not at all. I like to keep my hand in...as it were."
Leamus glared at Jenny. "And you should be thanking Prof.
Lakewood, girl. Ingratitude is not tolerated here."
"Th-thank you, sir," Jenny managed. "But...."
"'But' nothing," Leamus went on. "And, since you don't have a
proper uniform, you must do without for a while, until you can
earn enough credits to pay for one.... But, for the present,
you can continue to wear those cuffs, as your uniform."
"You-you can't do that...can't hold us just like that. I'm
expected back at school. I'll be missed...."
He heaved a sigh. "So many entering students insist that I can't
do this or that, but I keep doing it anyway.... And it's all quite
legal, isn't it Sheriff?"
"Quite legal."
"Incidentally, girl, what school do you attend?"
"Doeville State."
"A fine institution. We have very good connections there, so we
needn't concern ourselves there. Starting tomorrow, you will rise
at 7:00, lunch at noon, dine at 5:00, and usually be in bed by
8:00. The rest of the day will be filled up with classes and
work assignments. Do well, and you'll earn credits -- which will
result in priviledges -- do poorly, and you'll get demerits....
Tomorrow, of course, will be slightly different, since much of
the morning will be taken up by the processing procedures. So...."
"Excuse me, Alec," Lakewood interjected. "But how long has it been
since you've processed a student personally?"
Leamus looked nostalgic. "Personally? Oh, quite some time...."
"The good old days, right? So why don't we take a trip down memory
lane and do these two tonight? The Sheriff might even like to lend
a hand."
"Sounds like a plan," the Sheriff replied.
"You've talked me into it," the headmaster said. He rose from
behind his desk with a smile twitching at his moustache. "Let's
go."
Barbie, the potential honor student, suspected things were going
to get worse before they got better.
Very good story!
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