Gabby’s Punishment Weekend

Part One

Image from TimeOut!

 

“Go upstairs and put on your discipline outfit. You’re being punished this weekend.”

Gabrielle Harper sighed deeply and muttered under her breath in response to her father’s dire pronouncement.  She knew she’d been flirting with disaster when she decided to ignore the family curfew twice during the past week. When her mom called her on it and Gabby chose to reply with a sarcastic, “Please. Get real, Mom; I’m 19,” she’d sealed her fate. Her dad overheard the remark, and decided it was time his eldest daughter—home from University for the Christmas break—was reintroduced to the Harper family discipline to which Gabby’s two younger sisters were still subject. Now it was Friday night, and Mr. Harper was sticking to his guns.

“What was that?” he asked pointedly.

“Nothing, Sir.”

“Once more, minus the attitude.”

Gabby sighed again, but softened her tone. “Nothing, Sir.”

“Better. Upstairs now, and report to the punishment corner in ten minutes.”

Gabby ascended the stairs with all the enthusiasm of a condemned criminal. Her sister Rachel, who had turned 18 two weeks before but had nonetheless just served a “punishment weekend” for a similar offense, overheard the conversation from the family room and grinned. Gabby had made it quite clear that their parents “wouldn’t dare” treat her like a child now that she was an adult university student. Rachel had done her best to disabuse her elder sister of this notion, explaining that Rachel’s status as a legal adult had done nothing to change their parents’ minds about the efficacy of traditional discipline in her own case. Since Gabby had chosen to spurn her advice and flout the family rules about curfew (11:00 p.m. on weeknights, midnight on weekends), Rachel felt her sister had no one but herself to blame for her current predicament.

Upstairs, Gabby was undressing in a mixture of disconsolation and anger. How dare her parents insist that she spend the weekend in her embarrassing “discipline outfit?” Did it even still fit her? She had blossomed a bit in her first year at university; she feared the outfit might even be more of an embarrassment now than it had been before she left home.

Standing naked in the guest bedroom (previously her own), she opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and retrieved the loathsome articles of clothing. A small white sleeveless t shirt that had ended above her navel a year ago, a plain matching pair of panties, and a thong to preserve her modesty when the latter were pulled down for spankings.

Spankings! A shiver went through the young woman, thinking about the humiliating punishments she and her sisters had grown up with. Her last had been just after she’d turned 18, and she remembered it with no fondness whatsoever. Going over her mother’s knee like a naughty six-year-old in the family room, where justly earned punishments were always carried out. The feeling of shame and helplessness as her panties went south, revealing the largest bottom in the family to the gaze of her sisters and father. (Gabby had always been well-endowed in that part of her anatomy; having it on show to the whole family had always been a singularly unpleasant experience.) The humbling process of answering her mother’s questions about her underage drinking (which had been the issue on that occasion), feeling her face heat up to epic proportions while enduring a long scolding while in that juvenile position, her big, bare backside on show all the while.

And then there’d been the spanking itself.

Mrs. Harper was the family disciplinarian, and like the other aspects of parenting, she took it seriously. A spanking from her was no pro forma affair. She delivered the swats hard and fast, taking care to make an impression (so to speak). None of the girls had ever managed to remain completely stoical during one of these disciplinary experiences. Unfortunately for Gabrielle, she had the least ability of the three girls to contain herself while being spanked. Almost from the first swat, she had bucked, kicked, and squawked in a most humiliating fashion, completely unable to control her responses to the rising temperature in her rear end. As the eldest of three in a spanking family, she also had to deal with the barely-disguised merriment of her younger sisters while she carried on.

Now it was about to happen again…and she was 19!

Feeling herself the victim of a thoroughly unjust universe, she pulled on the thong, followed by the panties. Just as she’d feared, she had outgrown the latter by almost a full size. She whimpered as she pulled them over her further-blossomed rear, dismayed to find how little of that region they actually covered. This weekend was clearly going to be the most embarrassing of her life.

She pulled on the sleeveless little top, and was further dismayed at what she saw. Her breasts had indeed filled out a bit over the past year as well; they pushed at the limits of the fabric, causing the shirt to end a full three inches above her navel. Forcing herself to look in the floor-length mirror, she felt a frisson of acute embarrassment go through her.

“Gabrielle Maria Harper, you have one minute!” she heard her mother call from downstairs. (The Harpers had always presented a unified disciplinary front; they were one firm when one of their offspring earned a proper punishment.)

“Coming!” Gabby called back, feeling the frisson again, intensified this time. Her punishment weekend was about to begin, and there was no escape from it. Unhappily, she took a last look at her poorly-covered behind and forced herself out the bedroom door.

Gabby’s other sister, 16-year-old Sara, “just happened” to be in the hallway as she reluctantly emerged from the guest room. The younger girl demurely covered a smile with one hand and said, “Hey, good luck, big sister,” before disappearing into her own bedroom. She actually empathized with the older girl, having endured this treatment herself not long before. But, like Rachel, she felt Gabby had brought this outcome on herself. She couldn’t entirely pretend not to enjoy seeing her worldly-wise “grown-up” sister in these appropriately humbling circumstances.

Gabby tiptoed barefoot down the stairs, pulling at the small fabric of her panties as if willing them to enlarge themselves and cover more of her exposed bottom. When she reached the foot of the stairs, her mother was waiting; she merely nodded at the sight of her eldest in punishment garb and pointed to the infamous corner of the family room. Sighing in defeat, Gabby walked past her father, who was seated in his favorite chair and reading the paper, and saw Rachel fighting back a giggle from her place on the couch. 

Gabby disconsolately placed her nose at the confluence of walls long known in the Harper household as “the punishment corner.” She placed her hands on her head, feeling ridiculous and utterly juvenile. Her poorly-covered behind was on display to the family; she knew from long experience that the ten-minute pre-spanking reflection period in the corner would seem absolutely endless, yet end all too soon for her liking.

End of Part One

Copyright 2012 by Aunt Carla

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