Jonathan's Attitude Adjustment

Part One

Jonathan was becoming insufferable. So thought Meghan Riesling as she cleaned up the wreck her older brother had left of the bathroom. At 17, she was a year his junior, but in terms of maturity and responsibility, she was definitely more a grownup than he. He had just graduated from high school and turned 18, and that had only made things worse. He had taken to bossing her and her younger sister around, claiming that he was an 'adult' and they had to do what he said. Just insufferable!

Meghan was a beautiful blonde who'd started reading when she was three and had worn glasses since she was four. Having easily maintained a 4.0 GPA throughout high school, she was without question the brain of the family. Susie was the youngest (12) and a really sweet kid. She idolized Meghan and copied her every move. 

While the girls both loved their brother, they were frankly sick of his slovenliness, not to mention his domineering, macho ways. Mom tried to get him to get his act together, but even with dad's assistance and sympathy, there hadn't been much progress. There were a lot of, "That's just the way boys are," comments thrown around, and both girls had had their fill. 

So when their parents announced that they were going on a three-week trip to Europe with Aunt Gillian and Uncle Tony, they begged Mom not to leave Jon in charge. 

"He's such a slob, even when you guys are around, Mom," Meghan said with feeling. "We'd be constantly cleaning up after him, and he'd be bossing us around like crazy." 

"Yeah!" Susie piped up. "If you guys leave him in charge, it'll be awful around here!" 

Mrs. Riesling shook her head. "Has it really gotten that bad?" she asked. 

"It really has," Meghan replied. "It's not that we don't love him; it's just that he's such a slob! Plus, he's turned into a little dictator lately." 

"And he's real bossy and mean," Susie added. 

"That's kinda what a dictator is, sweetie," Meg said with a smile. 

"Oh. Well, he is one, then." 

"Okay, girls, I get the message," their mother assured them. "I think I have an idea." 

*     *     *

Jonathan Riesling didn't wake up; he 'came to'. After a night during which copious amounts of beer had been consumed by him and his friends at Randy's house, he'd slept 'til noon. 

He thought about the long summer stretching before him while he poured himself some cereal. What might have been a perfect vacation before starting college was being somewhat marred by his parents' decision to go on a three-week vacation to Europe. 

Not that he had any objection to his parents' long absence. Indeed, the unprecedented freedom would have been most welcome if not for one detail: they were going with his aunt and uncle, and leaving his cousins in the house as well. Jonathan was quite used to being the only boy, having grown up with two younger sisters. But his three cousins were all girls as well; with his parents gone, he would be awash in a veritable sea of estrogen! 

Worse than that, his parents planned (over his strenuous objections) to leave his bossy 19-year-old cousin Chelsea in charge of the household. She was a beautiful natural redhead, voluptuous and sexy, and she'd had a starring role in some of his earliest fantasies. But the attraction had been purely physical. Her parents called her 'a born leader', but in Jonathan's view, she was simply bossy and full of herself. As he was soon to learn, she was more than equal to the task of controlling misbehaving boys. 

"For God's sake, put some clothes on!" Meghan said, walking into the kitchen and looking with distaste at her disheveled brother in just his boxers and a wrinkled tank top. "They're gonna be here any minute!" 

"Who died and made you queen?" Jon replied with his mouth full. 

Meghan rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Fine, greet your relatives in your underwear." She grabbed an iced tea out of the refrigerator and left the kitchen. 

Ten minutes later, Mrs. Riesling called her children into the living room. Jonathan had, Meghan noticed to her relief, at least put some pants on. 

"Okay, guys, we're almost outta here!" their mom declared, wondering if she'd remembered everything. "Aunt Gillian, Uncle Tony and the girls will be here in a few minutes." She turned to her husband. "Honey, did you put the itinerary on the fridge?" 

"Sure did!" Mr. Riesling replied. "Kids, the phone number of the villa is on there as well. Only for emergencies, of course!" 

"It's so cool you get to go to a villa in Tuscany!" Susie enthused. "Just like in that movie!" 

"Yeah, but with one important difference," her dad replied. "Your mom won't be falling for any Italian men half her age!" 

"At least not when you're around, Dad," Meghan teased. "You'd better hire a private investigator to watch her if you decide to go off and do something on your own." 

Mr. Riesling playfully swatted his daughter on her backside, and she responded with a spirited, "Ow!" 

"What is this madness of which you speak? The Riesling men have a long history of keeping their wives so happy that they never seek the company of younger men!" 

Everyone laughed but Jonathan, who was slouching on the couch with a sullen expression. 

"So, everyone remember that Chelsea's in charge while we're gone," Mrs. Riesling reminded them. 

"Sure, Mom!" Susie said. 

"No problem. She's always fair." Meghan looked over at her brother, hoping her brother would voice a vote of confidence as well. 

"I still don't get why you put Chelsea in charge," Jon groused. "This is my house, and I'm the oldest." 

His dad looked at his son, disappointed that he seemed unwilling to let them leave on a positive note. "Well, son, all six of you kids are gonna be here, and Chelsea's the oldest of you all." He didn't say what he was actually thinking, namely that Jonathan had a lot of growing up to do before they'd consider leaving him in charge of the house for three weeks. 

The doorbell rang. "Oh! There they are!" Mrs. Riesling said, and opened the door. 

"Gillian, Tony, come on in!" They did, with Chelsea and her two sisters right behind them. 

Chelsea was as stunning as ever, with her cascades of full, red hair spilling down to her shoulders and her ample chest straining the fabric of her peasant-style top. She wore tight-fitting jeans and sandals. 

At 16, Alice lacked her older sister's classic beauty, but she was undeniably cute. She was incredibly fair-skinned, with a riot of freckles adorning her pretty face. She had her long, blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a cute maroon top, a denim skirt, and sandals. 

14-year-old Tara looked like a miniature version of Chelsea, except that her red hair was in two braids and she had yet to blossom into womanhood. She wore an Evanescence T shirt, cut-off jeans, and flip-flops. 

Soon, all the greetings, hugs, and last-minute instructions were finished. 

"So," Mrs. Riesling was saying, "Jon and the girls all have their own rooms; we'll leave it to you young ladies to figure out how you want to handle the sleeping arrangements." 

"Just as long as nobody tries to take over my room," Jon said. His unpleasant comment caused an awkward silence, but Chelsea quickly filled it. 

"Are you kidding? The way teenage boys typically keep their rooms, how could a girl possibly stand it?" 

A good deal of laughter followed. Then Mr. Towers (Uncle Tony) addressed his two younger daughters. 

"Alice, Tara, remember. Chelsea's in charge while we're gone, and we expect you to obey her just as you do us, or else. Understand?" 

The veiled threat may have been lost on the Riesling kids, but Alice and Tara understood it perfectly (and blushed to prove it). Dad was telling them that Chelsea had the right to spank them if they broke the rules. It was no idle threat, because Chelsea didn't mess around when she spanked. Both girls had been on the receiving end of their sister's over-the-knee discipline before, and had found sitting quite uncomfortable for the following couple of days. 

"That goes for you all, too," Mrs. Riesling added, quite unaware of the disciplinary arrangement she was consigning them to. 

The moment after their parents had driven away to the airport, Chelsea laid down the law. She took advantage of having everyone in the living room to talk about what she expected over the following three weeks. 

"Okay, have a seat everybody, and listen up," she began, and waited until they were all seated before going on. Jon half-sat, half-leaned on the couch armrest. Standing over her younger siblings and cousins, she said, "You all know the rules; they're the same ones you always follow. But just in case you forget, I'll be putting them up on the refrigerator as a reminder. Obey them, and we'll have no trouble at all. Break them, and you'll have to deal with me." She smiled. "I'm looking at you, Jonny. We all know that boys mature more slowly than girls." 

Jonathan looked up and met his cousin's eyes with the same sullen expression he'd worn all day. "I'm an adult, Chelsea, just like you. And my name is Jonathan." 

Chelsea crossed her arms and looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Your age says you're an adult. Your behavior typically says you're a kid. I know you're used to being a complete slob and ruling the roost, but that's gonna change over the next three weeks. Don't mess with me, Jonny, or you'll be sorry." 

Jonathan made a dismissive noise and stood. "You've got less than a year on me, little girl. And I could easily smack you down if I wanted to. It just happens I've got other things to do." 

With that, he left the living room. Chelsea's sisters were shocked: on the very few occasions that one of them had talked back to her like that, they'd wound up over her lap, kicking and screaming! 

"Don't worry, ladies," Chelsea said, quite unruffled. "He's gonna regret that little show of disrespect. I know just the thing to adjust a naughty boy's attitude, and you're gonna help." 

"Oh, can we?" Susie asked. "He's been such a pain lately!" 

"Absolutely," her cousin assured her. "I need your help to correct your brother's bad behavior, and you have the most important job of all, baby." 

"Yay!!" Susie rejoiced. 

"Come with me, ladies, we have lots to plan," Chelsea said. She led them to Meghan's bedroom and closed the door, and all five girls began plotting Jonathan's attitude adjustment. 

Much later that night, when Jonathan had fallen asleep, the girls crept barefoot in their pajamas into his bedroom, completely silent. His loud snoring gave them confidence that they could carry out their mission successfully. He was lying on his stomach in his boxers and a T shirt; this too was in their favor. 

Chelsea tied one of her uncle's ties to the bedpost, while Meghan did the same on the other side. Alice had the hardest job: she had to get a third tie under the boy's ankles without waking him. There was a moment of heart-pounding excitement when he made a noise in his sleep and turned somewhat. 

This worked to the girls' advantage, as it gave Alice the chance to slip the tie under his legs. Once he'd settled down again, she deftly tied the tie around his ankles in a tight knot. At the same time, Chelsea and Meghan looped the ties around the boy's wrists and pulled them into extra-tight knots. This made him start awake. 

"What the fu ..." 

Chelsea stuffed a soaked, soapy washcloth into his mouth before he could let fly with the epithet, and Tara flipped on the light. 

"I told you we'd need to wash his mouth out with soap, ladies!" she announced triumphantly. "That's what you call a 'preemptive soap-strike!'" She laughed heartily, and the other girls joined in. 

Jonathan looked around in a panic, making all kinds of desperate sounds into the washcloth gag and trying to get his hands and feet free. It was useless; Chelsea had shown the girls how to tie slip knots which only grew tighter as one pulled on them. It was rather entertaining to watch him struggle against the ever-tightening knots and make faces as the bitter taste of the soap filled his mouth. 

"So, young man, you and I have a little score to settle," said Chelsea imperiously. "Apparently you thought it would be fun to challenge my authority right from the start; now you're gonna find out what happens to naughty little boys when Miss Chelsea's in charge! Susie, will you do the honors?" 

Susie grabbed her brother's boxers with both hands and enthusiastically whisked them down as far as she could. The girls all giggled as his hairy bare backside came into view. "Oh my God, he looks like an ape with that butt!" Susie exclaimed, and the giggling began anew. 

"Well, it won't be long 'til it looks like a baboon's butt," Chelsea declared, brandishing her wooden hairbrush in front of his face. "Red as red can be!" 

Jonathan renewed his struggles and said unintelligible words into the washcloth with urgency. 

"Oh, does the naughty little boy have something to say before the sentence is carried out?" Chelsea said, and pulled the gag out of his mouth. 

"Let me loose right now, you bitch, or I swear I'm gonna mmmffftt!!" 

Chelsea laughed as she stuck the rag back in. "See, ladies? I told you boys were a little slow on the uptake. Here he is, bound and gagged and outnumbered five to one, and still he's dumb enough to curse and threaten! Well, Miss Chelsea has the remedy for that." 

With that, she raised the hairbrush high, and brought it down with a satisfying 'splat' on the boy's naked backside. 

"Mmmmfftt!! Mmmmfff!!" 

"What's that? I didn't quite get it," his tormentor said with a grin, raising the brush again. She fell into an easy rhythm, and the girls watched in fascination as the brush rose and fell on Jonathan's quickly-reddening behind. He struggled and made all sorts of noises as the heat in his backside rose with every second. 

"Here ya go, Meghan; it's your turn." Chelsea handed the brush over to her cousin, who was standing on his other side. 

"Sorry, big brother, but you've had this coming for a while," she said. "You have a lousy attitude, you leave messes for other people to clean up, and you boss us around like you're the lord of the manor. Well, guess what - sometimes even the 'lord' needs to have his butt smacked!" With that, she started spanking hard, covering his entire backside and the tops of his thighs while he twisted and strained to get a moment's relief from the pain. Only when he was literally screaming into his gag did she finally relent. 

"Okay, I think the naughty boy needs a rest before the others take their turn." 


[End of Part One]

© 2011 Aunt Carla

All rights reserved

Part Two

"Oh my God, his butt is like, so red!" Tara squealed. The 14-year-old looked awfully cute in the over-sized Sea World T shirt she liked to sleep in. Somehow she had managed to paint every one of her toenails a unique color. There was a grin on her face, and she was blushing at the sight of her older cousin's well-smacked bare behind. 

"It can be redder, I believe," said Meghan, handing the brush to Susie. "Time for the youngest Riesling to show us what she's got!" 

"Woo hoo!!" the 12-year-old enthused. Unlike her cousin, Susie wasn't blushing; she was just thrilled to get some payback for the misery her older brother had been subjecting her to lately.

"Mmmmffftt!!" Jonathan strained and objected as loudly as he could with the soapy rag in his mouth. His face was beet-red. 

"Oh, the naughty boy doesn't want a spanking from his little sister?" Chelsea mocked. "Well, maybe if you ask her very nicely ... whaddya say, Suze?" 

Susie held the heavy brush in her hand, absolutely loving the power she'd suddenly obtained. "Well ... maybe, if he asks real politely ..." she said with a giggle. 

Chelsea pulled the washcloth out of his mouth. He gasped and spit out some liquid soap. 

"I ... I'm sorry. Please, come on, Susie. My butt's already burnin' up!" 

"Yeah, it sure is." Jon jumped a little as Susie put her hand flat on one of his cheeks, then pulled it away as if scalded. "Wow! Man, we could cook breakfast on there!" 

The girls collapsed into a group giggle. 

"So, what's the verdict, Miss Susie?" Chelsea asked. 

"Well ... He did ask politely ... and his butt is awfully red already ... But I never said I wouldn't spank it!!" 

"Oh, come on!" Jonathan kicked his feet in frustration (as far as his bonds would allow). He couldn't stand the thought of kicking and screaming in front of all the girls while being spanked by a 12-year-old girl! 

"Tell ya what, big brother," Susie said, scratching the skin of his over-sensitive rear end with the bristle side of the brush. "'Cause I'm so nice, I won't give you a long one like Chelsea and Meg did." She turned the brush over and rubbed it all over his butt. "This is for being a slob ..." 

SWAT! 

"OWW!!" 

"These are for making me and Meg clean up your messes ..." 

SWAT! SWAT! 

"AHH!! OWW!!" 

"And these are for ordering us around like you're the king of the world!" 

SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! 

Susie delivered the last four with all her strength, and Jonathan screamed into the pillow, kicking his feet and pounding his fists at the incredible sting. He hadn't been spanked since he was seven years old; he'd forgotten how painful it was. The girls applauded, and Susie took a bow. 

"That was excellent, Suze!" Alice said with enthusiasm. "You sure can swing a hairbrush!" 

"I'm multitalented," Susie replied with a smile. 

Chelsea pulled up Jonathan's chin and made a triumphal announcement. 

"Ladies, we have tears! I think the naughty boy has learned his lesson." She looked Jon straight in the eye and said, "Haven't you?" 

Ashamed at his tears but unable to turn them off, Jonathan just nodded his head. 

"Good. Then we're finished with the spanking part of your punishment, unless Alice and Tara want a go. Ladies?" 

Alice, the cute 16-year-old in purple yoga pants and a white seamless camisole, shook her head. "Nah, his butt's beet red and he's crying ... I'll pass this time. But..." She walked around in front so Jon could see her. "But the minute he lets his attitude slip back, I'll be first in line to spank that booty. And I can spank hard, trust me, young man!" 

What was left of Jonathan's ego vanished at that. He was mortified: Not only had his baby sister spanked him to tears, but now his younger cousin was lecturing him and calling him 'young man'! 

"Yeah, I'll wait, too," said Tara. 

"Okay then, on to part two!" Chelsea announced with relish. 

"Yes. You'll be glad to know you get to rinse out your mouth, since I'm such a nice person." 

Jonathan turned his face away from Chelsea, ashamed that he'd been 'put in his place' by a girl. And one who seemed to have more humiliations in mind for him! 

"Ahem!" Meghan gave her brother a severe look. "Miss Chelsea just offered you a special privilege. I suggest you thank her nicely, or it might be withdrawn." 

"No! I ... Uh, thanks." 

"No, that won't do," Meg said in old-fashioned governess-style. "I believe the words you're looking for are, 'Thank you, Miss Chelsea.'" 

Jonathan literally groaned in humiliation. He kicked in frustration again; there was nothing he wanted more than to rinse the soap out of his mouth, but he just couldn't bring himself to say those words. Suddenly, fresh fire was ignited in his overheated seat. 

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!!! 

"OWW!!! Oh God, OWW!!" 

"I keep my promises, little boy," Alice said, swatting his bottom all over with her hand. "Not thirty seconds ago, I promised you a spanking if you let your attitude slip," she scolded, swatting his bright red buns non-stop. 

"AHH!! OWWW!!" 

"And now you refuse to use good manners! Well, Miss Chelsea, I guess he'd rather keep the soap in his mouth and get his tail roasted some more." She picked up the brush and focused on the ultra-sensitive area where the boy's bottom and thighs met. Jonathan responded with a shrill banshee cry. 

"NOO!!! AHHH!!! Don't ... OW, PLEASE!!" 

"Hmm ... I know a naughty little boy who's gonna have a very hard time sitting down this week!" Meghan observed as her cousin brought the spanking to an end. 

Jonathan was so amazed at the fire in his backside, he was surprised that he didn't smell smoke! He knew Meg was right; there was no way he'd be sitting comfortably any time soon. He was exhausted from all his exertions. He was covered in sweat, his hair was plastered to his head, and his face was wet with tears. 

"All right, time to get you showered and stuck in a corner," Chelsea said, untying the tie binding his left hand. Meghan and Alice took the cue and loosened the other ties. 

When he was free, he got up stiffly, then made the mistake of sitting on the bed. He almost shot up in surprise at the pain in his well-spanked rear end, which the girls found very entertaining. 

He stood up, his hands shooting back to soothe the burn. Then he realized he was giving the girls quite a show; he whirled around toward the wall and pulled up his boxers, wincing as he did so. 

"You're a mess, it's late, and we need to get your corner time started right away," said Chelsea. "You have exactly 15 minutes to rinse out your mouth, shower, and meet us in the living room in a fresh pair of underpants. The clock's ticking ... Go!" 

Jonathan desperately wanted to avoid any more spankings, so he went. Unfortunately for him, the girls rained down swats on his burning bottom as he hurried out of the room. He yelped and ran for the bathroom! 

It was 1:30 in the morning, but the girls were juiced. They decided to watch a pay-per-view movie while Jonathan served corner time in the living room. When they heard the shower running, Meghan went and got a pair of white briefs from her brother's underwear drawer, an old pair that had shrunk considerably. She went and opened the bathroom door. 

"Jonathan, I'm putting your clean underwear on the counter." There was silence. "Jonathan, do you hear me?" 

He poked his head around the shower curtain. "Yeah," he said in a deflated voice. 

"Then act like a civilized human being and answer me!" 

Jonathan sighed deeply. "Okay. I hear you. Now would you please give me two minutes of privacy to finish my shower?" 

Meg said nothing, but looked at him with a thin smile and left. He finished, stepped out and started drying himself. His butt was incredibly sore, and he just dabbed it with the towel. He couldn't believe the humiliations those girls had put him through! It just wasn't right. And now they expected him to come out in just underwear? "I don't think so," he said to himself, but he pulled on the tight briefs all the same. He wrapped himself in a large, dry towel and headed for his room. 

"Just where do you think you're going?" It was Chelsea; she was standing with her hands on her hips, regarding him imperiously. 

"I'm going to my room. You've all had your fun now, but I swear, if you try to lay a hand on me again, I'm calling my parents and telling them to throw you out of here!" The words were stronger than the voice. Jonathan was actually rather intimidated by his cousin at this point. 

"I see. Ladies, would you come here a minute?" Chelsea called. They were all there in a heartbeat.

"Jonathan tells me he's planning to call his parents and have us thrown out. Alice, would you mind telling this bad boy what you were doing while we were spanking him?" 

Alice grinned. "Sure! I was documenting the events for posterior ... uh, posterity." She brought her hand around from behind her back; Jon's stomach dropped when he saw the digital camera she held. "I was in charge of getting stills." 

"And Tara, how about you?" Chelsea asked. 

She held her own camera out with glee. "I was video girl!" 

"So, what you're saying is that, if this naughty boy doesn't behave and do as he's told, he'll be a worldwide viral video star?" 

"Oh, yeah," Tara said with a grin. "This is perfect for YouTube. He'll have, like, the world's most famous bottom!" 

Jonathan turned several shades of red. 

"And don't forget the still shots!" Alice put in. "I hear there's a real market for spanking pics on the 'net. Especially shots of naked boys getting their butts tanned by a bunch of hot girls. People will be downloading Jon's rear end for years to come!" 

"There's no way you guys would do that," Jonathan said in a hoarse whisper. 

"Yeah, you're probably right," she replied. "I'll probably just give them to Jocelyn and Mike, and let them decide what to do with them." 

Jocelyn and Mike were Jon's girlfriend and best friend, respectively. Jocelyn would probably just keep them for her own amusement, and wish she had been there. But there was no way Mike wouldn't share them with his buddies for a very big laugh ... at Jon's expense! He realized he was cornered. 

"Okay, okay, what do you want me to do?" 

"Well, for starters," said Chelsea, "you can put that towel away neatly and join us in the living room as we asked you to." 

Jonathan looked in vain for a supportive face in the crew. All the girls, including young Tara and Susie, looked seriously enthusiastic about the second phase of his punishment, whatever that was. He had no desire to stand in front of them all in just these slightly-too-small briefs, but he didn't dare call their bluff about the pictures and video. If that happened, he would forever be the guy who got his bare butt spanked by a bunch of girls! He sighed in defeat, and said, "I'll be right there." He went to the bathroom and carefully hung up the wet towel (something quite out of character for him) and went into the living room in his underwear. 

When he got there, Susie and Tara were on the floor, their chins on their hands and their feet waving in the air. Meghan and Alice were seated comfortably on the couch (it occurred to Jon again that he wouldn't be doing that for a while), and the self-appointed 'queen bee' was standing. 

"Hands on your head!" Chelsea commanded, and Jon complied. "Now Jonathan. I understand you've been giving your sisters quite a hard time lately. Making messes ..." 

"That's not true! I ..." 

"Quiet!" she thundered. "Meg, would you go soap up another washcloth in case he talks out of turn again?" 

"Gladly." She trotted to the kitchen, where she had a clear view of what was happening in the living room. Jonathan was a very bright shade of red as he stood with his hands on his head before five girls. His cousin had effectively silenced him again, and he hated himself for being so easily cowed by her. 

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, you've been ... what was the word you used, Meg?" 

"Insufferable," she replied, walking back in with a washcloth that was considerably more soapy than the one they'd used on him earlier. 

"Yes, insufferable. Leaving all sorts of messes for your sisters to clean up, as if they were your personal maids. Giving them orders because you happen to have had your 18th birthday. You've obviously gotten too big for your britches, so ... we've decided you can do without them for a week ... Oh, you want the soap, then?" 

Jonathan had opened his mouth and dropped his hands, clearly about to object demonstratively to this humiliating announcement. 

"NO! No, I'll ... be quiet," he said, returning his hands to their prior position. 

"Good choice. So, no pants for a week. You're confined to the house ... though I guess that's not really an issue, is it? I kinda doubt you'd want to take off for the mall dressed like that." 

He colored further, and she winked at the girls. This was going great! 

"Since you need to learn to clean up after yourself and to respect females, you will do housework every day, following any order you receive from one of us. You will speak when spoken to, and address each of us with proper respect. That is, 'Yes, Ma'am,' No, Ma'am,' or 'Miss.' We had planned to give you another spanking at the end of the week, but we decided to give you a goal to help you stay motivated. If you've done everything you've been asked and dropped the bad attitude, you'll get your pants back and you won't be spanked. Sound fair to you?" 

Jonathan desperately wanted to tell his cousin to go do that which is anatomically impossible, but he didn't want that awful soap back in his mouth or another spanking. "Yeah," he said. 

"That's 'Yes, Ma'am' or 'Yes, Miss Chelsea," Meghan said, holding up her washcloth as a visual aid. He closed his eyes in humiliation and somehow managed, "Yes, Miss Chelsea." 

"Good! Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" 

"No, Ma'am." 

"Okay then! See that corner over there next to the TV?" she asked. 

"Yes." 

"Yes, what?" 

"Yes, Miss Chelsea." 

"Good. We're gonna watch a movie now, and you're gonna spend that time facing the corner with your hands on your head, thinking about showing females the respect they deserve. Don't move a muscle and don't say a word, or I'll personally yank those cute little briefs down to your ankles. Understood?" 

"Yes, Miss Chelsea," he said again. Every time he had to say that, he felt as if a little bit more of what remained of his pride was being scattered to the winds. 

"Very good. Go!" 

Jonathan walked past four delighted females to start his long vigil in the corner. The girls rented their pay-per-view, and he stood next to the TV, feeling ridiculous and about five years old. As the interminable minutes ticked slowly by, he became more and more uncomfortable, and wondered if there was any way out of this crazy mess he'd somehow fallen into. Chelsea was batshit-crazy, he thought, and all the rest of them were just falling in line. Maybe if he played along for a couple of days, they'd get distracted by typical girl stuff and lose interest in tormenting him. 

After the longest 90 minutes of his life, Jonathan was given permission to leave the corner at last. 

"All right, Jonny," Chelsea said, sprawled comfortably on the recliner. "Tomorrow's gonna be a busy housework day, so go get your little hot-pink behind in bed." 

"Yes, Miss Chelsea." 

After a quick stop in the bathroom, he collapsed on his bed, exhausted. 

Day One of Jonathan's attitude adjustment was over. 

[End of Part Two]

© 2011 Aunt Carla

All rights reserved 

Part Three

Day Two

"Wakey, wakey, Little Jonny! You have a long day ahead, so up and at ‘em, now!"

Jonathan groaned at the sound of Chelsea’s irritatingly cheery voice. The first sensation to reach his brain was the lingering sting in his rear end from the spanking he’d received the night before. Although it all seemed like a particularly awful nightmare, he realized (to his great consternation) that the humiliating memories that now came flooding back were quite real.  

“Did you hear me Jonny?” I said up!” Chelsea yanked the sheet off the boy and planted a solid swat on his sensitive seat. 

“OW! Ya don’t have to do that!” Jonathan shot his cousin the mother of all dirty looks.

“Apparently I do,” Chelsea replied, the cheer gone from her voice. “Seeing as how you’re still in bed for some reason.” She swatted his tail once more, with a great deal more force.

“OW! Christ, you’re nuts!”

“LADIES!!” Chelsea called loudly. In a heartbeat, it seemed, a five-female fighting force appeared at Jonathan’s bedroom door. They were all attired in the sleepwear they had worn the night before, but looked none the less fierce for that.

“The word of the day,” Chelsea announced in a “school marm” voice, “is ‘recalcitrant.’ Would anyone care to use it in a sentence?”

Meghan stepped through the door, a slightly predatory smile on her face. “Absolutely,” she said, locking eyes with her brother. “In spite of his painful lesson last night, this little boy remains as recalcitrant as ever.”

“And we know what that means,” Chelsea said imperiously.

“It means we start from scratch!” Tara declared.

And with that, all five women descended on the astonished boy like a army of Amazons.

“Hey! Get off!”

It was no use. As large and as strong as he was, Jonathan could not resist five pairs of hands intent on taking control of him. They pushed him down on the bed; Chelsea pulled his arms behind his back, and Meg quickly looped a tie around his wrist, pulling it tight. The other girls half-sat on his legs, pinning them to the bed. He grunted and struggled, but they managed without too much difficulty to get two ties looped and knotted around his ankles.

“Now!” Chelsea commanded. Jonathan was completely astonished to find himself borne aloft by the determined young women. Chelsea, Meghan and Tara held him around the shoulders, while Alice and Susie managed his ankles quite handily. They had little difficulty carrying the struggling boy toward the bathroom. They placed him, standing, in the shower stall. then Chelsea said, “Alice, would you like to do the honors?”

“With pleasure!” the 16-year-old replied, and briskly whisked Jonathan’s briefs down to his ankles. Shocked to be standing there in his birthday suit but helpless to do a thing about it, the boy’s mouth hung open, registering his complete astonishment. His face was beet red. Before he knew what was happening, Chelsea had turned on the shower faucet; the ice-cold water poured down over his body in a steady stream.

“AGGHHHH! Turn it off, it’s freezing!” he cried.

“Let’s get this little boy cleaned up, Chelsea commanded her troops, ignoring Jon’s outburst. Meghan grabbed the long wooden bath brush beside the shower stall, Tara simultaneously poured shampoo over his head, and Suzie took great delight at squirting her big brother’s chest with shower gel. None of the girls minded getting a little wet on this warm summer morning; in any case, the water was warming up rapidly.

Meghan used the bristle end of the bath brush to wash her cousin all over. Copious amounts of shampoo had forced him to close his eyes and his mouth, but he responded to the irritation of the bristles by moving around as much as his bound ankles would allow him.

Smack! Smack!

Two swats of the wooden end of the bath brush, one to the center of each exposed bottom cheek, were smart attention-getters. Jonathan opened his mouth to yell and got a mouthful of shampoo for his trouble. He spat out the acrid-tasting liquid.

“Stand still for your shower, little boy, unless you want your behind toasted,” said Chelsea. He did the best he could to obey the order. Chelsea moved around behind him, and he felt the soapy bristle end of the stiff brush drawn across his sore tail. He groaned at this, but managed to remain still.

“He seems to be trying to be good, Chel,” Tara said.

“Yeah, this just might be our ‘zero point.’”

*     *     *

Jonathan, dry and unbound, was seated on a small wooden stool and facing a corner in the kitchen. He was aware of the girls moving about behind him, cleaning up the breakfast dishes. The swats he’d received at the hands (and brush) of Miss Chelsea had been more than enough to reawaken the fire in his bottom, which was in direct contact with the stool. He squirmed in discomfort as he carried out the laborious task the girls had set for him. He was required to reproduce ten times, in flawless handwriting, a document Chelsea had printed out for him:

Jonathan’s Attitude Adjustment

1. I have been disrespectful toward my sisters, treating them more like maids or subjects than sisters. I showed a lousy attitude when my cousins arrived, and made things unpleasant for my parents, my aunt, and uncle. Since I need a major change of attitude, my adult privileges are hereby suspended until further notice.

  2. Miss Chelsea is in charge. I will regard  all the women in the house as my babysitters, and call them “Ma’am” or “Miss.”

3. I will follow my sitters’ instructions the first time they are given.

4. I will do my best to learn how to do housework and household chores properly.

5. I am not allowed pants for one week, only briefs. I understand that pants privileges aren’t guaranteed after one week; I have to earn them back through good behavior.

6. I will receive a spanking each evening this week. How long and hard it is, and whether the hairbrush is used, will be determined by my behavior during the day. If my sitters believe I’ve made progress after one week, the evening spankings will be eliminated.   

7. Any disobedience, displays of temper, or uncooperativeness will result in additional spankings and corner time. If I fail to learn my lessons, I will be assigned lines. Foul language will result in a mouth full of soap.

The boy shook the writer’s cramp out of his right hand. He was slightly shell shocked by the coordinated blitz attack the girls had carried out. He had to admit (grudgingly) that they’d been a surprisingly effective strikeforce. Being carried to the bathroom was an absolute shock, as was being suddenly starkers in front of all the girls. Stepping naked out of the shower, he’d been almost docile while they thoroughly dried him. When Chelsea told him he could have a pair of briefs and get untied if he was ready to be civilized, he’d just nodded; the fight had gone out of him. Tara released his hands, and he immediately held them low. But Meghan said, “We’ve already seen it all. Hands on your head.” As if robbed of volition, he obeyed his younger sister; she went and got a fresh pair of briefs for him while he stood on display, surrounded by four females.

Now those briefs were at his ankles again, and his bare behind was incredibly sore on the hard wood of the stool. He’d been at this task for quite some time, and his hand was cramping pretty bad. He was halfway through the ninth reproduction of his “Attitude Adjustment” assignment, though...one more and he could have some breakfast. He suddenly realized he was incredibly hungry. He shook his hand once again, winced as his position on the stool shifted, and set to work.  

 

[End of Part Three]

Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla
All rights reserved

Part Four

The New Housemaid

“Can I at least put some sneakers on?”

Jonathan stood in the kitchen, a mop in his hand, wearing nothing but his tight briefs, while the girls stood ready to supervise his first foray into housework.

“What do you say, ladies?” asked Chelsea, who had become for all intents and purposes their squadron leader. Meghan made a derisive sound. 

“Well, look at it this way. Believe it or not, he’s been on this kick lately of saying that women should be ‘kept barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.’”

“Oh, hell no!” Alice said, indignant at the very thought of that phrase surviving into the 21st century.

Tara giggled. “Well, we can’t make him preggers, but we can keep him barefoot.”

“And in the kitchen-- for now.” Chelsea skewered her cousin with a look. “You’d better get started, little Jonny. There’s a whole house waiting, and it’s not gonna clean itself.”

“But...the windows are open,” Jonathan whined. “If you’re gonna make me do housework like this, you need to at least close the curtains...someone might see me, and you’ll all be in trouble.”

Meghan clucked her tongue and shook her head with a smile. “Our little Jonny does not seem to be learning, Chel. Do you think he needs another spanking so soon?”

Jonathan went rigid. The very last thing he wanted was another round of swats on his already-tender behind. 

“Perhaps,” Chelsea replied. “Jonny! Arms up!”

Obeying did not come naturally to the boy, but recent events had made him surprisingly responsive. As if on auto-pilot, his hands reached for the sky, and Chelsea caught the mop as he dropped it. She then knelt and whisked his briefs down to his ankles, leaving him in just his athletic supporter. Meghan pulled a large wooden spoon out of the canister and handed it to her cousin, who gave the boy four sharp, well-placed smacks all around his bare behind.

“Ow! AHH!” Jonny danced in place as the fire in his tail was reignited once again. Susie giggled at her big brother’s impromptu kitchen dance with his underwear around his ankles.

“Now,” said Chelsea, “listen up, little boy. You just spent about an hour and a half writing out your new rules, so you ought to have them memorized by now. What’s rule number two?” She held the wooden spoon, ready to strike again if necessary.

Jonathan wracked his brain, trying to remember. Truth be told, he had tried to block out those humiliating rules even as he’d been copying them ten times. Nonetheless, Chelsea’s stance with the spoon jogged his memory.

“Call you ‘Ma’am’ or ‘Miss,” he mumbled inaudibly, his face flaring.

SMACK! SMACK!

“OWW!”

“Louder, young man.”

“I have to call you ‘Ma’am’ or ‘Miss!’

“Better. And rule number three?”

Jonathan broke out in a sweat. How was he supposed to remember all those dumb rules in order? Then he surprised himself with the clarity of his memory. 

“Do what you say the first time.” Then he quickly added, “Ma’am!”

“Excellent! And number five?”

The boy squirmed. He really didn’t want to have to say that one out loud, but Chelsea encouraged him with yet another solid smack to his smarting backside.

“OW! No pants for a week! Ma’am!”

“Right! And by the way, I think I prefer ‘Miss Chelsea.’ Your other sitters will tell you their personal preferences. Finally, number seven.”

Jonathan, his hands still held humiliatingly high, sighed in defeat.

“Any disobedience and I get a...a spanking...and corner time, Ma’...Um, Miss Chelsea.” His head drooped and his face went beet-red.

“See, Meghan? Your brother is capable of learning. You may put your arms down now, Jonny.

“Now, by my count, you’ve already broken most of your rules, not five minutes into your training. That doesn’t bode well for your butt at your evening spanking tonight. We should give you another spanking right now and put you in the corner, but I’m sentencing you to time and swats served, because the day’s getting away from us and the housework needs to get done. The curtains stay as they are. If anyone looks, they’ll see a young man who thinks women are around to be his slaves, learning the truth the hard way in his underwear. One more complaint, and they’ll see him doing it in his jock strap. Are we clear?”

Jonathan’s face actually flared further, something he thought was impossible. “Yes, Miss Chelsea,” he said quietly. What else could he say?

“Good. Now pull up your little panties and let’s get started.”

Susie giggled again at Chelsea’s choice of words. The girls watched, beaming, as Chelsea and Meghan taught the boy the basics of housecleaning. They went from room to room, Jonathan learning to mop, vacuum, dust, and wipe down surfaces. The open curtains invited public critique of his progress. Jonathan’s training was off to a good start; his days of treating women as his personal maids were quite over.

[END PART FOUR]

Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla
All rights reserved