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| Image from Spankedtails.com |
Dad and Rachel remained in the room, chatting amiably about
Rachel’s post-graduation plans as if Gabby weren’t even there. Mom remained in
the kitchen, but soon Gabby heard Sara come cheerfully down the stairs. The
“baby” of the family entered the family room, which was increasingly resembling
Grand Central Station in Gabby’s estimation.
Although it seemed like forever since she’d been ensconced
in the punishment corner like a naughty six-year-old, all too soon she heard
her mother bustling purposively into the family room.
“Come here, Gabrielle.”
Gabby turned around, grateful for the chance to drop her
arms from their uncomfortable position. She took in the room with dismay: Sara smiling,
lying on her belly on the rug with her chin in her hands. Rachel on the couch,
a flush of excitement on her cheeks. Dad in his easy chair, and Mom on the
armless chair she’d pulled in from the dining room. She beckoned her eldest
daughter with her finger; Gabby groaned and tiptoed over as slowly she dared.
Mom wasted no time in guiding her errant offspring over her
lap. Once she had her in position, she slowly peeled the tight panties off her
ample behind, all the way down her legs and off. Rachel was up in a flash;
following the family’s discipline protocol, she picked up the discarded garment
and went over to the wall where a wooden hairbrush (one that had never been
used on hair) hung it from a hook. She took down the implement, hung the
panties in its place, and delivered it to her mother. All this in clear view of
the young lady hanging over her mother’s lap, her face flaring ever hotter in
the extremity of her embarrassment.
“This young lady,” Mrs. Harper announced, patting her
daughter’s ample bare cheeks, “seems to think that just because she’s in
college, the rules no longer apply to her. This weekend will be devoted to
convincing her otherwise.”
Mrs. Harper then addressed Gabby, subjecting her daughter to
the traditional pre-spanking scolding/question-and-answer period while Gabby
lay helpless, her large bare bottom on display to the whole family. With each
passing moment, she felt another layer of her newfound adult sophistication
disappear. She looked up to her right for a moment and locked eyes with Rachel,
who shrugged as if to say, “Hey, I did my best to warn you!” Panning over to
Sara, she saw the sibling most often on the receiving end of Harper family
discipline these days, clearly happy to be in the audience for a change.
SMACK!!
The first swat quite an attention-getter. Gabby gasped and
arched her back in response to the shocking sting. It was barely ten seconds
before Gabby went into the maniacal kicking and squawking that typified her
spanking response. Her sisters shared a wink across the room; how mistaken big
sister had been to think she was too old for family discipline!
“Ow, ow, OW!!” Gabby shouted, her fists and feet pounding
the air in her rising desperation.
“You’re coloring up nicely,” Mrs. Harper observed without
slowing her pace in the least. “Almost ready for the brush.”
“NOOOO!!!!”
Sara giggled from her
place on the rug. The close-up view she was getting of her sister’s correction
was quite entertaining, especially given Gabby’s nonstop zoo noises. She noted
that the older girl was actually kicking and pounding with wilder abandon than
last time. A year away at college and the illusion of immunity, she thought
with an evil grin.
“Alright, looking good!” Mrs. Harper declared, delivering
one final, mighty swat to her eldest daughter’s uniformly hot-pink posterior.
“Time for a short corner cool-off before we bring the brush into the equation.”
Gabby groaned as she rose to her feet and grabbed her
inflamed cheeks. Mr. Harper nodded his approval of his wife’s handling of the
proceedings. In his view, flouting house rules and mouthing off could not be
tolerated without risking all domestic tranquility. Gabrielle’s boo-hoo-ing on
the way to the corner, her hands furiously rubbing at the sting in her behind,
convinced him they were well on their way toward nipping this little sophomoric
rebellion in the bud.
“That’s enough rubbing and dancing, now,” his wife commanded
their daughter after a few moments. “Hands on your head and stand still.”
Gabby sobbed out a pitiful “Yes, Ma’am” and forced herself
to stand motionless with her hands atop her head, despite the overwhelming
desire to put out the flames in her bare behind and dance in place. Ten more
minutes of corner time suffering before Mom brought things to a stunning
conclusion with the dreaded hairbrush. Gabby sobbed silently and awaited then
inevitable.
Copyright © 2013 by Aunt Carla
All rights reserved
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