Gabby's Punishment Weekend, Part Three

The Conclusion

(Continued from http://auntcarlascorner.blogspot.com/2013/01/gabbys-punishment-weekend-part-two.html)

“Gabrielle, come.”

Gabby’s stomach seemed to drop through her body to the floor once again. As sore as her bottom was from the thorough hand spanking she’d endured a mere ten minutes before, she couldn’t stand to think of that wooden hairbrush dancing merrily on that inflamed flesh. She walked like one condemned over to her mother, who had resumed her place in the armless chair. Gabby’s modesty was protected in front by the thong she wore, but of course her large, hot-pink bottom was completely on display. She gulped as she saw her mother tapping the hairbrush against her palm.

As Gabby flopped disconsolately over her mother’s lap once again, her sisters’ merriment at the oldest Harper girl’s downfall was more muted than before. Both girls knew--from recent memory--how devastating that old wooden hairbrush could be to a bared behind .

Mrs. Harper tapped her eldest daughter’s exposed backside several times with the dreaded implement. It was a family heirloom, an old-fashioned, quasi-Victorian affair with hand-painted roses on its flat side and horsehair bristles on the other. Throughout its long tenure, it had been used many times, but had never been used on hair.  Mrs. Harper’s mother had been spanked with it, and she had bequeathed it to her daughter when she got married. The woman now holding it intended to do the same with whichever of her daughters married first.

Tap -- tap -- tap.

In this awkward position, staring at the carpet and all-too-aware of the fact that her swollen behind was the main attraction, Gabby felt quite juvenile and silly. She certainly didn’t feel anything like that self-assured, grown-up university woman who had declared herself immune to this kind of discipline.

“Time to finish this, young lady,” said Mrs. Harper.

“Y-Yes, Ma’am,” Gabby said in a tiny voice.

The sound of wood striking Gabby’s bare flesh sounded in her ears, and for a brief moment she thought she might be able to get through it without making a ridiculous display of herself. After that nanosecond, however, the pain message reached her brain; it screamed, “Flail wildly and shriek!”

And that’s precisely what she did.

With even more gusto than before, she kicked like a madwoman, screaming and pounding the air with her fists. The wooden brush felt more like a kiln-heated brand each time it made contact with her exposed behind. Mom used the instrument with practiced precision; she would choose one spot and give it several consecutive swats before moving onto new territory. Each time, it felt to Gabby as if that bit of flesh had literally caught fire.

“Please!! AHHH!! OHHH!!”

“Are you going to follow the house rules from now on, young lady?” her mother demanded, never giving her wayward daughter a moment’s reprieve.

“YES!!! Oh, GOD!!!!”

“Good.”

Soon Gabby’s wild-woman antics caused her blossoming breasts to fall out of the too-small camisole she wore. When Mr. Harper saw this, his eyes widened for a moment, then he quickly picked up his newspaper. His oldest daughter had inadvertently afforded him a moment’s glimpse into the past, when his wife’s breasts were nearly identical (and every bit as pert and firm). It was a pleasant memory that made him smile; still, this was his daughter, and it would be quite uncivilized to gawk. Accordingly, he buried his nose in the op-ed page for the duration of Gabby’s spanking.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“AHHHH!!!! OHHHHH!!!!”

Gabby’s entire backside was a uniform bright red, as if painted expertly (which, in a way, it had been). Her sisters watched in open-mouthed awe: Mom had had a point to make, and she’d made it in no uncertain terms! This was easily the hardest spanking either of them had ever seen or felt.

Gabby lay over her mother’s lap, still in hysterics, still kicking and thrashing as if unaware that her spanking had come to an end. Mrs. Harper noticed her daughter’s wardrobe malfunction and adroitly pulled the camisole back down over the girl’s generous breasts. Instinctively, perhaps, she glanced up at her husband, and felt subconscious relief when she saw him apparently quite absorbed by his newspaper.

Mrs. Harper said, “Sara, would you kindly fetch the cream?”

“Sure, Mom,” the 16-year-old replied crisply, leaping to her feet and heading upstairs to the bathroom where the post-spanking cream was stored. Her mother smiled at how a spanking observed quickly changed a usually-lethargic teenager into an eagerly obedient one. She didn’t always use the soothing cream; it only came into play after a particularly hard spanking. The one she had just delivered definitely qualified. Her daughter’s hams were well and truly smoked, her rump fully roasted. She pulled several tissues out of the box on the coffee table and carefully cleaned Gabby’s face, making comforting sounds to calm the well-disciplined girl. She was certain her eldest daughter would have no problem following the family rules for the remainder of the break.

Sara delivered the cream. Her mother thanked her and began spreading it tenderly on Gabby’s outraged bottom and upper thighs. She was starting to settle down now; she had clearly tired herself out with her wild kicking, pounding, and thrashing about. Her breathing slowed as her hot bottom absorbed the welcome coolness of the soothing cream.

After perhaps two minutes of this soothing butt massage, Gabby had calmed down completely. Spent, she hung over her mother’s lap like a wrung-out dish rag. Mrs. Harper gently tapped the girl’s bottom and said, “Up you get.”

Slowly Gabby regained the vertical, wincing as her well-done behind made contact with her mother’s lap. “I’m sorry, Mom!”

“That’s alright, dear,” said her mother, hugging her eldest tight. “Do you understand now that the house rules apply to everyone?”

“Oh, yes Ma’am; I sure do!” she replied earnestly.

Everyone chuckled a bit at the “Mayberry R.F.D.” nature of her reply.

“Even to visiting university scholars,” Mr. Harper observed wryly from his chair.

“Yup, even us.” His daughter smiled wanly despite her embarrassment and thoroughly sore tail.

“Corner for ten,” Mrs. Harper said. “We’ll wait on the movie ‘til you’re out.”

Gabby rose to her feet, and her hands automatically went to her scorched buns. All three girls knew from experience that they had a brief window of opportunity for rubbing: between the maternal lap and the corner. She took full advantage of this tacit rule, walking as slowly as possible and rubbing as fully as she could. When she arrived at the familiar corner and placed her hands in the required position, she felt as if her bottom must be at least twice its normal, already-generous size. She knew she’d be allowed to put her panties back on in ten minutes and join the family for the movie they’d rented. Lying on her stomach on the floor, of course.

*     *     *

Afterword

Gabby spent the rest of the weekend confined to her camisole and panties, and the embarrassment of the experience was certainly not lost on her. On Saturday, her mother announced mid-morning she was going out to pick up a few things. When she returned, she told Gabby that she had something for her. Presents while a Harper girl was being punished were certainly not the norm; she was intrigued. When she brought the box to her room, she opened it and discovered a new punishment outfit, appropriately larger to match her current size. Seeing the new thong, panties, and camisole, Gabby’s face flushed red for perhaps the hundredth time.

“Can’t have you hanging out of those old things the rest of the weekend,” her mother observed from the doorway.

Gabby smiled in spite of her acute embarrassment. “Thanks so much for the gift, Mom!”

“Hmm...” Mrs. Harper crossed her arms over her chest and eyed her eldest daughter. “Sounding a little sarcastic...still a bit of an attitude...maybe you’d rather just stay in your old things.”

“NO! I mean, I was just kidding; I do appreciate having stuff in my size. I just wish I didn’t have any more punishment weekends to look forward to.”

“Well, obey the rules, and you won’t have to. I’m afraid you were born into a family with very old-fashioned ideas about discipline, my dear. Until you’re out on your own, the penalties for breaking the house rules remain the same.”

Gabby’s face colored yet again. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Okay, change into your new things, then come join us for lunch.” Mrs. Harper smiled and closed the door. Domestic tranquility was a wonderful thing.


[END]



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