Torture Hunger
by Stan Miller


CHAPTER ONE 

There is a saying that the grist mill of the gods grinds with infinite 
slowness but complete thoroughness. Yet it would appear that this process 
was being remarkedly accelerated in the brief span of the two weeks during 
which Arthur Hadley and his mature, beautiful, brown-haired new wife Eleanor 
were spending their honeymoon in Mexico. 

The personable forty-three-old widower had come to Malibu with his 
precocious and spoiled eighteen-year-old daughter Hester on his vacation, 
still grieving over the death of his wife Sonia. In the prime of life and at 
the peak of his virility, a virility which even his harmonious marriage to 
his gentle and somewhat reti cent wife had hardly even tapped, he was 
destined to have the pattern of his entire life changed by the seeming 
irrelevance of a beach ball. Of such small things in history made, just as 
in the famous ballad describing how a battle was lost for want of a 
two-penny nail. 

For it happened that the thirty-nine-year old brunette widow Eleanor 
Stanfield and her delectable golden-haired sixteen-year-old daughter Betty 
were vacationing at Malibu at the same time, and while the two were playing 
catch, Betty launched an exuberant throw which made the ball hit Arthur 
Hadley, who was peacefully sunning himself at the time. From that accidental 
introduction, a romance quickly flourished between the two bereaved adults, 
who found each other not only intellectually sympathetic and congenial but 
also physically attractive. 

And so the upshot of it all was that Arthur ardently proposed to Eleanor, 
whose own passions had been suppressed for six long years during which time 
she had brought up Betty according to her own sincere beliefs in the wisdom 
of judiciously applied corporal punishment. 

When Arthur Hadley learned by what means Betty had acquired her obedience 
and genuine parental affection, he was astounded, for he had not dreamed 
that in this day and age parents still used the old-fashioned method of the 
strap and the hairbrush to bring up a teenager. But by contrast, seeing how 
his own daughter sulked and was thoroughly anti-social, he believed that his 
marriage would bring him not only a helpmate and bedmate of incomparable 
charm but also an aide in correcting Hester's errant ways even at this 
comparatively late stage in her hitherto unrestrained young life. Eleanor 
confided in him as to her methods in punishing Betty, and further startled 
him by discussing how her friends punished their children by the same 
old-fashioned but effective means. And finally, she instructed golden-haired 
Betty to see to it that Hester met Betty's young friends and discovered her 
herself just how their parents straightened them out when they strayed off 
the path of exemplary conduct. 

So this "psychological campaign"-for that is actually what it was!-began as 
soon as Arthur and Eleanor left for Mexico, and Betty brought Hester along 
to meet seventeen-year-old Sally Jamison, who was one of Betty's dearest 
friends. Hester was unpleasantly shocked to hear Sally admit without any 
hedging that when she was naughty, her mother and father didn't hesitate to 
use a ping pong paddle on her bottom, or if the fault was serious enough, a 
special spanking strap which was like the old Scotch tawse. 

Arthur Hadley's bespectacled auburn-haired daughter expressed her horrified 
indignation at hearing this avowal, much to Sally Jamison's amusement. 
Indeed, in Sally's own words, "You better not let my Dad hear you call him a 
brute just because he paddy whacks me when I need it, Hester. You mean to 
say you've never been spanked in all your life?" And Hester turned a vivid 
red with embarrassment, for that was exactly the truth: she had never 
received so much as an admonishing slap from either her dead mother or her 
indulgent father. But, as we shall see, in this concluding volume of our 
story, the blissfully unconcerned days of her immunity from strap and 
hairbrush and parental hand were rapidly drawing to a close.... 

Perhaps it was just as well for Hester Hadley's peace of mind that she and 
her new stepsister Betty didn't visit the Carruthers household about 
eight-thirty that same night, or the bespectacled auburn-haired introvert 
would have seen two very attractive girls subjected not only to the parental 
hairbrush but to an additional dosage with their father's belt. 

Svelte attractive Mabel Carruthers and her genial husband Dave had decided 
to go out for a drive and a social call on one of Dave's business 
acquaintances who had just moved into the neighborhood in the pleasant 
little town of Claremont. This left their daughters Verna and Barbara alone 
in the house, and since school was about a month away, the two sisters 
animatedly discussed the prospect for fun and games during the oncoming 
semester. 

Verna Carruthers was fourteen and a half, and a good deal of a tomboy. Her 
dark brown hair was styled in a ponytail, the hair combed away from the top 
of the forehead, and her face was oval, with widely spaced large brown eyes, 
a straight, thin-winged nose, and a ripe sweet mouth, whose lower lip was 
somewhat more pronounced and petulant. Her high-set cheekbones and her firm 
little chin proclaimed her to be a spirited adolescent, which indeed she 
was. Her supple charming figure gave promise of decided beauty in the next 
few years, for she was about five feet four, with a very supple waist, 
surprisingly ample, upstandingly rounded buttocks which in contrast with her 
long slender thighs and sinuous calves, made this amplitude even more 
pronounced. Her breasts were pert young oranges, set widely apart, and 
saucily firm. And her milky skin, dotted with delightful freckles on cheeks 
and chin and along her upper arms, made her an extremely provocative young 
Lolita. Despite her youth, she was already at the age of being greatly 
inquisitive about the opposite sex, and as a matter-of-fact the episode 
which we are about to witness stemmed entirely from this preoccupation. 

Verna had often been scolded and then spanked for the tomboyishness already 
alluded to. She was fond of playing baseball with the boys, biking and 
roughhousing with them, and she liked to wear jeans and cutoffs rather than 
skirts. These outer garments were taboo during school time, but since this 
was late August, her parents permitted them. And on this particular evening, 
she was wearing a pair of extremely tight cutoffs which accentuated the 
surprising mature contours of her bottom and came down to mid-thigh, 
revealing lovely milky bare thigh and calf. She also wore a boy's blue 
cotton T-shirt, and sandals, white cotton panties and a bra. She was quite 
proud of this bra because to her it symbolized growing up and being able to 
take her place in the adult world. 

Her sister Barbara, almost seventeen and an inch taller, was a young Venus. 
Her rounded face, with Grecian nose, a small full mouth, gray-green eyes, 
rounded cheeks and dimpled chin, together with a warm creamy skin, had 
already drawn a great deal of attention from the boys in Claremont high. 
Through both her parents, as with Verna, had forbidden her to have any 
"steadies" until she was eighteen, Barbara had a secret "understanding" with 
a carroty-haired, freckle-faced seventeen-year-old Tom Jeffrey, who was the 
star tackle on the varsity football team. 

Barbara, unlike her sister, was very much interested in presenting the 
appearance of a poised and mature young lady. She wore a skirt and blouse, 
sheer flesh-colored nylons, and sandals, and her black hair was feathered in 
layers all over her lovely head, with tiny curls clustering down her face. 
She was seated at the writing desk in her room upstairs-Verna's was next to 
hers-writing a note to her "dreamboat" Tom Jeffrey when saucy Verna, without 
so much as a by your leave, opened the door of her room and walked in 
announced. "Hi, Babsie," she cheerfully greeted her brunette sister. 
"Whatcha doin', huh?" 

Barbara Carruthers whirled around, her face red with embarrassment at being 
found out. "Verna, you know perfectly well I just hate that nickname!" she 
exclaimed. "Didn't anybody ever teach you to knock?" 

"Sure, lots of times," Verna giggled as she approached the desk. "You can't 
be doing homework, school won't start until practically another month. Ah 
ha! I know what, you're writing a note to your heartthrob, aren'tcha?" 

"Now see here, Verna," Barbara angrily expostulated, "that's none of your 
business and you know it!" 

"I know. But I bet Dad and Mom would really tan your hide if they knew you 
had a crush on that lanky string bean of a football player, I bet." 

"I suppose you'd snitch." 

"Not me, Sis. Just the same, you better be awful careful. You know how 
strict Dad and Mom are about not having steadies. 'Course when it comes to 
that, there's an awful sweet boy I'd just love to have take me to a movie 
and hold hands with, if you wanna know something. His name's Dick Trotter." 

"Oh, for gosh sakes," her brunette sister giggled, "You don't mean that 
awful drip with a cowlick that he always needs combing and that sissified 
voice of his, do you, Verna?" 

"Now you shut up about Dick Trotter! Come to think about it, I don't think 
much of that Tom Jeffrey either, if you wanna know something," Verna 
indignantly countered. 

"That's none of your business! After all, I'm practically seventeen, and in 
another year I'll be old enough to get engaged and married, so there!" 
Barbara haughtily declared, sitting up very straight to indicate to Verna 
that after all, she was a perfect lady. The maneuver thrust out the 
magnificent closely spaced round young cantaloupes of Barbara's titties, the 
already well developed points threatening to burst through the thin nylon 
bra which held them in check. Her hips were lusciously curvaceous, her 
buttocks being two broadly oval, very tightly spaced fleshy globes of 
delectable resilience and firmness. Her rounded thighs and delightfully 
contoured calves were already drawing wolf whistles from the males on 
campus. 

Barbara had also experienced her first sexual emotions-something her parents 
didn't yet know about-when she had gone on a picnic last month with Nancy 
and Sally Jamison and Constance and Janet Gilmore, and just by accident Tom 
Jeffrey had driven up in his old jalopy out by the forest preserves where 
they were picnicking. Louise Gilmore had sent Hilda along as chaperone for 
the girls, but Hilda hadn't said anything when Barbara had sneaked away to 
chat with Tom. They had gone off quite a distance from the others, and Tom 
had gawked and shifted from foot to foot and got red in the face, and then 
finally had grabbed Barbara and kissed her hard on the mouth. She'd gasped 
with delighted surprise, made a pretense at first of being shocked by his 
boldness, but then she'd let him kiss her again. And she'd begun to feel the 
churning, moistening warmth in her pussy, so that when he'd pulled her to 
him and pressed her up against his hardening young cock, she'd almost 
fainted away with the thrill of it. They'd made plans to see each other this 
fall, and Barbara had explained that her parents wouldn't allow him to come 
to the house as a steady, but they'd work something out. And that night, 
alone in her room, still having that wonderfull itchy feeling between her 
legs, the lovely brunette had pretended that Tom was right there with her in 
bed and had used her finger on her pussy until the explosive ecstasy of 
orgasm had assuaged her hungry young needs-at least for the time being! 

Barbara was highly incensed by her younger sister's flippant reference to 
her secret boyfriend, and reacted with typical feminine jealousy, which has 
no age limit: "Now look here, Verna, you just keep your mouth shut about my 
guy, and I won't say anything to Dad and Mom about your puppy love!" 

"Puppylove?" Verna echoed, hands on her spacious young hips. "I like that! 
That droopy long drink of water you go for wouldn't even give me a flutter 
down you know where!" and with this she put a forefinger to the crotch of 
her cutoffs. 

Barbara turned crimson with annoyance at this salacious and certainly 
unexpected critique of her boy friend's sexual powers. Of course, she hadn't 
yet got to the point of finding out whether or not Tom Jeffrey was man 
enough to give it to her-she secretly wanted to give her cherry to him and 
find out what it was all about. But Verna's taunting deprecation was just 
too much. Rising from her chair, she slapped her sister's face. 

"Why, Babsie," Verna mocked her, sticking out her tongue, "so you've been 
trying to play house already with your guy, huh?" 

"You shut your snotty little mouth if you don't want another slap," Barbara 
raged. 

"Yeah? Well, that reminds me. I owe you a good one for that. Here you are, 
Babsie," Verna retaliated with a vigorous slap that reddened Barbara's 
olive-tinted cheek and sent the older girl stumbling back, her hand to her 
stinging cheek and her eyes wide with disbelief that her own younger sister 
would dare such an outburst. 

And then a battle royal began. Quite forgetting their sisterly ties, Verna 
and Barbara scuffled on the floor, rolling over and over, pulling hair, 
cuffing and scratching each other, oblivious to all else in their furious 
attempt to come off victorious and once and for all assert the supremacy of 
either one. As a result, they didn't hear the front door, nor did they hear 
their father's comment to his wife Mabel, "Listen. Mabel, what's going on 
upstairs? Sounds like a bull in a china shop. Let's go see!" 

And that was why as Mabel and Dave Carruthers approached Barbara's room, 
they stopped for a moment, thunderstruck at the angry voices and the sounds 
of physical combat: "Oww! Goddam you anyway, Verna. Now you went and tore my 
best blouse!-I don't care, you just keep your mouth shut about my boyfriend, 
Babsie-oohhh! Cut it out, let go, let go of my cutoffs-" 

"What's going on here?" Fred Carruthers angrily exclaimed as he and his wife 
entered the room. They saw Barbara lying on the floor with her knees up and 
her skirts fallen away to show her voluptuous young thighs, her fingers 
buried in Verna's ponytail and yanking it as hard as she could, while Verna 
was ripping Barbara's blouse and going to work on the latter's bra. 

"Oh gosh!" Verna was first to realize the frightening reality of the 
situation. She released Barbara and stumbled to her feet, gulping, her face 
cromsoning, "I-I-we-we were just having a sort of rumpus, D-Dad, that's all, 
honest!" 

Barbara uttered a gasp of consternation when she found herself on her back 
on the floor with a highly interested audience of two contemplating her. She 
got to her feet, smoothed down her skirt, ruefully glanced at her torn 
blouse and gave her younger sister an inimical look, then stammered, 
"That-that's right, Dad. Verna and I were just kidding around, that's all." 

"I see," the svelte auburn-haired Mabel Carruthers tartly replied. "Just a 
friendly little skirmish, isn't that it?" 

"Sure, Mom," Verna chimed in, desperately trying to tilt the balance scale 
in her favor. But it didn't work very well. 

"In that case," her mother said pointedly, "It's very funny that your father 
and I should be listening to things that properly behaved young ladies 
wouldn't even dream of thinking, much less yelling out loud. I think, Dave," 
turning to her husband, "It's time we had a little session with the 
hairbrush. Verna and Barbara seem to have forgotten the last little episode, 
don't you agree?" 

"I certainly do," Dave Carruthers nodded, eyeing his older daughter sternly 
till she quailed, turning very red in the face, and lowering her eyes. "I'm 
going to get to the bottom of this and I do mean bottom. Mabel, you take 
Verna, and I'll give Barbara what's coming to her." 

"Right, Fred. Come along, young lady," Mabel Carruthers told her tomboyish 
brown-haired daughter who looked suddenly crestfallen. She took hold of 
Verna's hand and led the girl into the adjoining room and then closed the 
door. 

"Now I want the truth, Verna,'" Mabel Carruthers emphatically declared, her 
hands on her hips, and staring intently at the pretty brunette teenager. 
"What were you and Barbara fighting over? And don't try to weasel out of it, 
young lady, by telling me it was just all in fun. I'm not going to repeat 
what I heard you and Barbara yell out at each other as we were coming down 
the hall. I've a good notion to wash your mouth out with soap to start with 
before I give you a spanking. How serious that spanking's going to be 
depends on your being truthful with me right now, Verna. Well?" 

Verna hung her head and scuffed the rug with her sandaled foot. She was 
almost literally in the position between the frying pan and the fire. If she 
told the whole truth that it was a squabble over boyfriends, she could just 
imagine what a thrashing she would be in for. If she fibbed, on the other 
hand, she knew perfectly well that her mother considered lying as one of the 
seven deadly sins and would chastise accordingly. Finally, her nimble young 
mind came up with a faltering account in the hope of satisfying her 
inquisitoner: "Well, Mom, it was like this. We-Babsie and me-" 

"Barbara and I," her mother irritatedly corrected. "You know perfectly well 
your sister detests that nickname, and so do I. It reminds me too much of 
the Bobbsie Twins and heaven knows the two of you would never pass muster as 
them, thank goodness. Though in some ways I'll admit it would be a relief to 
our nerves if the two of you were just as placid and sweet as those two 
fictional characters. All right, out with it!" 

This little interlude had given Verna more time to collect her thoughts and 
fabricate a more plausible story. Miserably, she knew that she was in for 
the hairbrush no matter what she said, but the only real question was how 
many spanks she would get: the more convincing her story, she felt sure, the 
more chance she would have of diminishing what might well be an imposing and 
very painful number. 

"Well, Mom, Barbara and I, we were talking about movie stars, and I said I 
liked John Wayne and Barbara said she couldn't stand him, and then we got to 
arguing and she said I was just a silly kid and didn't know anything and I 
got mad. And then, well, I guess we both lost our temper." 

"Hmm," Mabel commented. "I have a hunch you're not quite telling the truth, 
young lady. But since I can't prove it and I'm not a wardeness at a 
concentration camp, I'm not about to try to use stern measures to get the 
real truth out of you. However," and this with a meaningful smile that sent 
shivers up and down Verna's spine, "I think the dose of hairbrush oil I'm 
going to give you ought to be a sufficient remedy to keep you from wanting 
to indulge in any more unlady-like pugilistic bouts with your sister from 
now on. Get me the hairbrush, Verna." 

"Y-yes, Mother," Verna faintly stammered, blinking her eyes very rapidly to 
disperse the first onrush of childish tears which followed this dire order. 
She walked over to her dresser and gingerly picked up an old-fashioned black 
wooden oval shaped hairbrush which lay in a little plastic tray, and came 
back slowly towards ,her mother, who had seated herself in a straight-backed 
chair and had smoothed her skirt. 

Mabel Carruthers extended her right hand for the implement of chastisement 
and waited. Verna did not need prompting now, for the ritual was all too 
familiar to her. "Pl-please, M-Mother," she quavered, "I deserve to be 
sp-sp-spanked for being naughty, and-and I'm awfully sorry, M-Mother." 

"That will do for the time being," her mother briskly remarked. "Now get 
ready." 

With a doleful sigh, Verna unbuttoned her cut-offs and, stopping a little, 
tugged them energetically down. They were extremely tight-fitting and they 
seemed reluctant to leave the buttocks which they shaped out so 
suggestively. Under them, the thin white nylon panties, quite brief and 
exposing just the beginning of the base of that milky behind, remained the 
girl's only veil. 

Verna placed her cutoffs on the edge of her bed, and then slowly draped 
herself across Mabel Carruthers' lap, clasping her hands together, bowing 
her head and shoulders down low, a pose which uparched the jouncy, ample 
hillocks of her condemned young posterior. Mabel Carruthers laid the 
hairbrush down on the middle of her daughter's back, and then with both 
hands seized the waistband of the flimsy panties and began to roll the 
garment down. Without being told, Verna arched her loins up just enough so 
that her mother could snug the sheath off and completely expose the milky, 
contracting checks of her behind, leaving the panties neatly and tightly 
rolled up at her upper thighs. 

Then, retrieving the hairbrush with her right hand, Mabel Carruthers circled 
her daughter's slim waist with her left arm, tucking the girl in closely to 
her body, lifted the hairbrush slowly. Then after studying the tightening 
cheeks of Verna's apprehensively quivering naked seat, she applied the first 
sonorous, crisp spank against the plumpest curve of the right buttock. 

Verna's flesh was quite sensitive, and the bright pink imprint left by the 
hairbrush sprang up instantly, while the tomboyish brown-haired teenager 
uttered a squeal of pain and kicked up one sandaled foot, glancing up at her 
mother's stern face as she poignantly tried to read from Mabel Carruthers' 
expression just how severe this hairbrush spanking was going to be. 

The svelte auburn-haired matron prided herself in never punishing in either 
haste or anger. Verna was therefore doomed to a prolonged and quite taxing 
ordeal, as her mother suspected that Verna had not been telling her the full 
truth about the reason for the altercation. The hairbrush applied five 
energetic smacks to each of the girl's bottom-summits. Then there was a 
brief pause, while Mabel Carruthers adjusted her hold around the girl's 
squirming waist, contemplated the already crimsoned behind, and resumed with 
five smacks to each lower summit. 

There followed another pause, by which time Verna was softly crying and 
wriggling uneasily as she tried frantically to ease her position and at the 
same time hopefully disperse the growing heat that was beginning to blaze in 
her naked posterior. 

Now came five more smacks to each upper summit, and then still another 
pause. Thirty hairbrush smacks already constituted a reasonably severe 
punishment; but in Mabel Carruthers' private opinion, Verna was due a really 
sound chastisement for a number of accumulated little faults which this 
latest episode had topped off. 

She therefore clamped her right leg over the girl's calves, which at once 
announced to the sobbing teenager that any hope of a reprieve was gone, and 
proceeded to finish Verna's correction with twenty more slowly spaced 
strokes of the black wooden hairbrush which "touched up" the regions of that 
milky behind which had not yet felt the chastening sting of the parental 
implement of discipline. Long before the fiftieth spank fell, Verna's hips 
were tossing and twisting and arching wildly, her tearstained and contorted 
face was turned back towards her mother, and her sobbing, supplicating pleas 
included many a childish avowal of her intention to be a very good girl from 
this moment forth. 

At last it was over. Verna had been well trained, as had her older sister; 
she did not at once rush her hands back to rub her blazing bottom though 
there was no doubt she was yearning to do so. She had to lie in this 
uncomfortable and ignominious pose, her hands still clasped in front of her, 
while Mabel Carruthers lectured her on the naughtiness of picking a quarrel 
with her own sister and over so trivial a subject. Then in the next breath, 
her heart almost stopped beating when her mother added, "Now that school 
isn't too far off, young lady, let me warn you that I'm still going to keep 
what I said last semester. No steady boyfriends, and that goes for Barbara 
too. And most of all for you, young lady, because you're not even fifteen 
yet. Just don't let me ever catch you flirting with some of those personable 
boys at school, or Verna or your father will have something to say about it 
with his belt after you've had the hairbrush. You understand?" 

"Y-yes, Mom ... Ooh, I'll be so good, please say you forgive me, Mom!" her 
daughter sobbed. So long as she remained over Mabel Carruther's lap and with 
the latter's leg fettering hers, the state of her naked blazing behind made 
her terribly apprehensive that her mother might decide to impart a little 
extra "touching up" to her already fiery naked posterior. 

But finally it was over and the sobbing youngsters was allowed to rise from 
her mother's lap, and then, her panties still tangled around her thighs, to 
put her arms around the svelte auburn-haired matron and to kiss her and 
tearfully express her repentance and her regreat.... 

Meanwhile in her own room, brunette Barbara faced a rather more trying 
ordeal. Dave Carruthers had made his older daughter remove her skirt and 
panties, undo the tabs of her garterbelt, and then lie over his lap as he 
seated himself on the edge of her bed. With his left arm tucked around her 
waist, he began her punishment with a sound and energetic handspanking of 
about forty slaps which covered the jouncy ivory-sheened globes quite 
thoroughly. Despite what she considered an almost grownup age, Barbara 
wasn't able to hold back her tears and sobs, and soon her pretty sandaled 
feet were kicking wildly up and down as Dave Carruthers' big hand smacked 
angrily against her reddening bare behind. 

But it was to her consternation to discover, when the spanking was over, 
that he was unbuckling his belt and drawing it up out of the loops of his 
trousers, then doubling it in his hand. 

"Ohh, Daddy, please not your belt! I'll be so good, I didn't mean to fight 
with Verna, oh please, Daddy, let me off any more! YOU spanked so hard," she 
poignantly wailed. 

"I don't like to hear any daughter of mine using some of those dirty words 
you were yelling at Verna, young lady," he grimly reminded her as he laid 
the doubled belt against her reddened posterior. "I'm going to give you 
twelve good ones, and you'd better not ever let me catch you swearing like 
that again, or I'll make it fifty with the belt as a starter, do you hear 
me, Barbara?" 

"Oh yes, D-Daddy, oh please, my bottom hurts so awfully already," Barbara 
Carruthers sniffled. 

But this plea brought no sympathy from her father. The doubled black 
leatherbelt rose in the air, then descended violently with a noisy thwack 
against the broadest curves of the huddling inflamed bare cheeks. A squeal 
of anguish tore from the victim, as she kicked her legs up and down, 
wriggling over his lap, quite heedless of the salacious spectacle she was 
making of herself. 

By the time the fifth smack of the belt had bitten across her vividly 
splotched naked seat, Barbara was crying like a child and begging 
forgiveness and mercy in the same breath, wriggling so frantically that her 
father had to pull her closer to him with his left arm against her bare 
waist. 

He lectured her now at each of the final seven spanks: "I just want you to 
be sure you won't forget what I've been telling you about using such 
terrible language-" Smack "-do you hear me, Barbara?" 

"Owww, ohhh!! Oh yes, Daddy, I hear you. I promise I won't, oh please not 
any more!" 

"We're going to have a new neighbor and his grownup daughter in the 
neighborhood, Barbara, and I hope you're going to set a good 
example-"Whack!" She's a year older than you are, I hear, and she's never 
been spanked. And I don't want you trying to act as grownup as I'm told she 
does, you understand me, Barbara?" Crack! 

"Oww-oh yes, Daddy-Arrhhh! Oww! I'll promise I'll be good, oh please, oh 
please let up now, Daddy!" 

But all her supplications were in vain; the full dozen spanks were inflicted 
with the stinging belt, and when it was all over, lovely creamy-skinned 
Barbara Carruthers wept like a child as her hips kept frantically swerving 
back and forth across her father's lap. Just the same, though it was 
dreadful for her, she still had presence of mind to say a silent prayer of 
thanksgiving that her father hadn't really found out why she and Verna had 
been fighting. It could have been a lot worse! 

 CHAPTER TWO 

By the end of the first week of her-father's honeymoon with Betty's mother, 
Hester Hadley was beginning to think that she had suddenly been whisked off 
on a diabolical magic carpet into a strange new land where the most 
incredible things happened to grown up young people of her age. She had met 
Sally Jamison and discovered that this appealing if perhaps much too mild 
mannered sandy-haired girl was used to having a regular spanking with a ping 
pong paddle or even a piece of leather, one end of which was split into 
finger-like strips; and she had already been told how Verna and Barbara 
Carruthers got the hairbrush and sometimes the belt from their mother and 
father. 

But Louise Gilmore, acting on her dear friend Eleanor's suggestion just 
before the happy day of the wedding, decided to further Hester's eye-opening 
education just a little bit more by telephoning the house which would now be 
known as the Hadley instead of the Stanfield house and asking the colored 
maid Jennie to ask "Miss Hester if she will please come to the phone as I 
wish to speak to her." 

Hester frowned when Jennie reported this piece of information, for she 
couldn't imagine who could be calling her. However, and with her usual sulky 
expression when something unexpected happened, she picked up the phone and 
said, "Hello, this is Hester. Who are you?" 

Betty, behind her, was rolling her eyes ceiling-ward and then glancing at 
Jennie and shaking her head to indicate in pantomime that this was certainly 
not the way for her stepsister, old as she was, to talk to stern Louise 
Gilmore. Of all the pre-mothers whom Betty knew personally in the 
neighborhood, her secret accolade of the sternest disciplinarian was 
assuredly bestowed upon the silver-blonde mother of Janet, Tony, and 
Constance Gilmore. 

"Good afternoon, my dear," Louise Gilmore said in her cultured voice. "I was 
wondering if you and Betty would care to have tea with Janet and Constance 
this afternoon. I have to take Tony to the dentist, and I thought it might 
be a nice opportunity for you to meet some of your new sister's dearest 
friends. I believe that Janet is of your own age, unless I'm mistaken, 
Hester. She's eighteen." 

"Yes, I'm eighteen too, Mrs. Gilmore. It's nice of you, but I really don't 
think-" Hester dubiously began. 

But Eleanor had warned Louise Gilmore that Hester was likely to be diffident 
like this and had given her a few pointers on what to say if the occasion 
presented itself. So Louise Gilmore very smoothly countered with, "I do hope 
you'll come, Hester. I think your father would like it very much. He'd 
especially like you to meet Janet, since the two of you have so much in 
common-except, of course, for the way you have been brought up. But what I 
mean to say is that you'll find she has some very interesting views on 
experiences which may be new to you. And I do want her to make you feel 
welcome in Claremont, my dear." 

This of course was a little white lie, because it was really Eleanor who had 
urged Louise to insinuate to the precocious auburn-haired Hester that it was 
high time the latter learned that just because she was eighteen, she needn't 
think that her bottom would remain virginal to disciplinary instruments just 
on that token. And Janet was assuredly a perfect example of the sternness 
and justice of Gilmore parental discipline, what with keeping her own ledger 
book of demerits and having a regular accounting session with her mother 
every ten days. Under no circumstances, Betty knew, was Janet ever permitted 
to carry her demerits over longer than ten days. Besides, Betty herself was 
eager to learn just how many demerits Janet had already accumulated, and 
furthermore she wanted to get Janet aside and ask for that charming 
brunette's cooperation in actually volunteering herself to be a martyr. 

Betty had, her mother well knew, quite a vivid imagination and initiative, 
which at times of course had to be curtailed; but the little talk which she 
had had with Eleanor had decided her to take matters somewhat into her own 
hands so that her new stepsister could be "straightened out." And now that 
she had been living with Hester for an entire week with only Jennie around, 
Betty was convinced that the best thing that could happen to Hester would be 
to pay a visit to the upstairs room of her mother and learn the step-by-step 
preparations of the ceremonial which always prefaced a good sound spanking. 

"Well, all right, I guess I can make it," Hester grudgingly assented. And 
once again Betty shook her head and rolled her eyes, while Jennie had all 
she could do to keep from giggling at her pretty young golden-haired 
charge's facial expressions. If she'd have been asked for her opinion, 
Jennie would have also given Hester Hadley a very bad rating. She felt that 
Hester was arrogant, selfish, and demanding, without so much as even 
thanking her for the things she did. And so, unbeknownst even to Eleanor, 
that worthy dominatress had already recruited another ally in the growing 
project which had as its end in view Hester's being toppled from her 
pedestal of immunity ... or, to put it somewhat more vulgarly, which had as 
its end the end of the unspanked condition of Hester's rear end! 

Louise Gilmore gave her attractive German maid Hilda precise instructions, 
for she was entrusting Hilda with serving the tea and cookies which were to 
be the afternoon's refreshment for the four young girls. "Now mind you, 
Hilda," she said sternly to the handsome blonde maid who wore her little 
lace cap and tight-fitting black silk dress and, this afternoon, extremely 
sheer smoke-colored nylon hose which breathtakingly shaped out the 
appetizing plump roundures of the maid's calves and thighs, "you are to be 
on your best behavior, you understand me? Let the girls sit in the living 
room, get acquainted for a few minutes, and then you will serve the tea and 
cookies. You will come back from time to time to see if they want more tea 
or more cookies-serve only a few of the cookies at first, so you'll have to 
come back, you understand." 

"Yes, Ma'am, I'll look after it, Ma'am," Hilda quickly assured her mistress. 
She always felt uncomfortable in the presence of Louise Gilmore, for the 
tall, sophisticated silver-blonde was unwaveringly strict with her. Hilda 
couldn't quite explain her feelings, because although her parents had 
spanked her when she was a little girl, she had thought that by coming to 
America she was done with all that. And yet here she was, living in the 
Gilmore house, submitting to having her rubber girdle pulled down and her 
bare bottom thrashed with the dog whip or sometimes when her mistress wanted 
to shame her, with the ruler or the noisy and stinging leather sole. Not 
only that, but Herr Gilmore often gave her a thrashing, and then she felt 
almost as if she were a little girl again when her father and mother had 
disciplined her. They were so good to her, besides that, so she really 
couldn't blame them when she herself was stupid and made mistakes which 
deserved punishment. 

Of course, it was worst of all when it happened at the dinner table and 
young Master Tony and the two girls had to watch her being punished just as 
if she were their own age. Because this afternoon meant that she would be a 
good deal in the company of these four young girls, Hilda felt more than 
usually apprehensive, and Louise Gilmore smiled with secret satisfaction at 
the alacrity her maid showed in answering her and also Hilda's very humble 
and alert attitude. 

"As I was saying, Hilda," she went on, "you'll come back from time to time 
to see if the girls want anything else. And I want you to listen to their 
conversation, with particular attention to what Betty's new sister, Hester, 
has to say. Unless I am very much mistaken, my Janet and Constance are going 
to be talking about what happens when they're naughty, and of course dear 
Betty will do the same about her own experiences. Hester, you see, Hilda, 
hasn't had the advantages that you and my daughters have had when it comes 
to being corrected for mistakes." 

"Ach, ja, I understand you, Mrs. Gilmore," Hilda eagerly exclaimed. "That is 
Miss Hester who is coming to live here with Mrs. Stanfield-" 

"Mrs. Hadley now," Louise Gilmore smilingly corrected. "That's right, Hilda. 
You see, Hester's father is a widower and he's been left all by himself to 
bring up his daughter, and I guess he's never believed that an only child 
can be spoiled. So Hester has never been spanked, Eleanor tells me. That's 
why I want her to learn that in this neighborhood here, Hilda, we believe in 
good discipline when it's deserved." 

Hilda nodded. "I will listen, Mrs. Gilmore, and then you will want me to 
tell you what this Miss Hester says when she hears such things, Nicht wahr?" 

Louise Gilmore smiled and nodded. "You're a good girl most of the time, 
Hilda dear," she complimented the mature blonde German domestic, "and I'm 
going to buy you that nice new coat you've been wanting if you do a good job 
in reporting back to me as much as you can." 

"Oh thank you, Ma'am," Hilda gratefully exclaimed. Her blue eyes welled with 
sudden emotional tears, and she took Louise Gilmore's hand and brought it to 
her lips and kissed it, her head bowed in a kind of servile adoration. The 
silver-blonde dominatress drew herself up with her full authority, and it 
was again as if mother and child were brought together in this secret moment 
of intimacy which transcended the nominal relationship between domestic and 
employer. 

"All right, Hilda," she said at last, but her voice was surprisingly tender. 
"You'd best get back to the kitchen now and see that everything is ready. 
And you don't need me to remind you that I don't expect to find any of the 
china broken when I come back home with Master Tony from the dentist. 
Otherwise-" She patted Hilda's cheek, and then reached around the young 
woman and gave her a playful slap on her opulent girdle-sheathed bottom. 
Hilda gasped, then blushed and shook her head, "Oh no, Mrs. Gilmore, I'll be 
awfully careful with the china, honest I will!" 

* * * 

Hester thought to herself that Janet Gilmore was really very attractive, 
with a figure that reminded her of Betty's, except that Janet seemed to have 
an even plumper bottom. It was all so confusing, Arthur Hadley's precocious 
daughter felt, as she somewhat guiltily blushed to find herself even 
concerned with a hitherto un mentionable portion of the female anatomy. 
Because she had certainly never before been conscious of bottoms before, not 
until Father had met Betty's mother. And then all of a sudden it seemed as 
if all the young people she was meeting could talk of nothing else except 
their bottoms and how these were spanked. And yet Janet was as old as she 
was, possibly even a month or two older. 

"Well, Janet," Betty had begun the chipper conversation after the 
introductions had been passed around, "How's it going these days?" 

The pretty brunette shrugged and made a wry face. "Not so good," she 
confessed. "I don't know why it is, but I seem to get into more trouble 
during summer vacation than when I'm in school. Oh say, Hester, that reminds 
me, you and I are going to be starting at Claremont College for Girls by the 
end of next month, aren't we? Maybe we'll have the same classes. What's your 
specialty?" 

"I guess it would be history and civics, and maybe English Lit," Hester 
replied. 

"Great! I'll be in English Lit too, it's one of my favorite subjects. I just 
adore Dryden and Pope and Shakespeare and all those others, don't you?" 
Janet gushed. 

Hester was a little taken aback; here was a girl who actually knew something 
about Dryden and Pope, whom she had considered her own private favorites. 
And yet this same girl seated in an armchair across from the couch where she 
and Betty were sitting, with her legs crossed and one pretty leg swinging up 
and down and the pump twisting and pointing in the most sophisticated way, 
was freely admitting to having her bare bottom actually whipped-because 
there wasn't any other word to describe it, not when Mrs. Gilmore used a 
rubber dog whip. Why, it was barbaric! And how could Janet Gilmore sit there 
and be so cheerful when she was talking about punishment she had already got 
and punishment she expected to get? It was baffling. Maybe all these kids 
were robots without any personality of their own, to make them submit so 
tamely to a beating! Well, it wasn't going to happen to her, thank goodness! 
Father had much more sense than to try to use such an antiquated and stupid 
disciplinary method, and besides she herself had far outgrown any need for 
such humiliating and shameful correction. 

"Yes, I like them a lot," Hester admitted. 

"But I like the French authors like Victor Hugo and Balzac, too." 

Janet didn't pursue the subject of literature. Instead, addressing herself 
to golden-haired Betty, she blithely came out with, "Well, Betty, I bet it's 
a relief to have two weeks' vacation from your mother. Gives your bottom a 
chance to cool off a little, doesn't it?" 

"Well, if you put it that way, I guess you're right," Betty giggled without 
the least self-consciousness. Hester shot her an astonished glance and then 
looked back across at Janet. She just couldn't understand such candid, 
unabashed discussions. Because if it were she who had had a whipping, she 
wouldn't show her face to anyone and she certainly wouldn't ever discuss it. 

Why, they must all be just like slaves, to be able to submit to such a 
dreadful thing and then to talk about it as if it were something like having 
a soda or going to a movie. 

"Of course," Betty countered, "I still have to be on my best behavior, 
because don't think that Janie won't tell Mom if I try to get away with any 
fast ones. How's your demerit book right now?" 

Again Janet made a wry face and shrugged. "I think I've got about fifty 
demerits so far." 

"Uh-huh. When's pay-off time? Your mother still works on that ten-day limit, 
doesn't she?" Betty wanted to know. And then, in almost the same breath, 
turning to her new stepsister, she explained: "You see, Hes, Mrs. Gilmore 
doesn't always feel like tanning Janet's behind when Janet does something 
naughty. So she just tells her to go write the number of spanks down in her 
book. Then at the end of the week, Janet can pay them back, but if she would 
rather, she can have up to ten days before the slate has to be wiped clean. 
But no more than that, right, Janet?" 

"That's right," Janet gloomily averred. "Anyhow, I'm in no hurry for that 
fifty, not after yesterday afternoon." 

"Why, what happened then?" 

"Well, all three of us got a little unscheduled workout, that's what," the 
oval-faced voluptuous brunette declared. "Connie too, and she's been about 
the best of the three of us this summer." 

"How did it happen?" Betty wanted to know. 

Janet looked at her younger sister, and Constance Gilmore demurely blushed 
and lowered her eyes and murmured, "Go ahead and tell her, Janet, if you 
want. I don't mind." 

"Well, Bets," the brunette explained, "I guess you might say it was Tony who 
started horsing around. Mom and Dad had to take the car to the garage to get 
the transmission straightened out or something, and Hilda was dusting the 
living room when it started. By the way, she got it too." 

"Hilda," Betty turned to Hester, "is their maid, in case you don't remember. 
She gets spanked too, just like the kids." 

"Good gracious!" Hester ejaculated, her jaw dropping, "but she's a grown 
woman!" 

"Sure. How old is she, anyhow, Janet, twenty-six or something?" Betty 
eagerly resumed the thread of this to her fascinating conversation. 

"No, she's twenty-eight," Janet corrected. "Well, anyhow, Tony was just in a 
fiendish mood, absolutely fiendish. First of all, when he went upstairs to 
his room, he caught Connie looking out the window down the hall and talking 
to Janie Dumont who bad stopped by along our alley on her way home from a 
music lesson. So what does Tony do but take a yardstick from the linen 
closet and give Connie a couple of cracks across her bottom. And then the 
brat goes and shoves the window down so that poor Connie can't get loose and 
he really whacked her, didn't he, Connie?" 

"He sure did," the pretty light-brown-haired younger girl giggled. "But that 
that it didn't hurt half as much as what Daddy gave me later on." 

"You mean to say your father whipped you just because your brother hit you 
with a yardstick?" the astonished Hester Hadley gasped. 

"Let's get the facts straight, for Hes' benefit, Janet, huh?" golden-haired 
Betty piped up. 

"Hester here seems to be a doubting Thomas. And she still thinks that 
parents are awful people because they beat their children." 

"Well, I do!" Hester flashed, coloring hotly as she saw all eyes on her. 
Hilda had come back into the living room with a tray of cookies and she 
suddenly stopped talking when she saw the buxom blonde German maid. Then she 
blushed all the more hotly, when she imagined what it would be like for poor 
Hilda to have to be whipped by her employers-why, it was like back in the 
Middle Ages, that was what it was! 

"Would you like some more cookies, please?" Hilda proffered the tray to 
Betty and Hester. 

"Sure, thanks, Hilda. They're great! I wish you would give Mom the recipe 
for your molasses cookies," Betty eagerly exclaimed as she reached towards 
the tray and took three of that variety. 

"And you, Miss Hester?" Hilda innocently asked. 

"Th-thank you, Hilda." Hester's fingers trembled as she reached for a sugar 
cookie. Hilda's eyes were on her, and there wasn't the slightest suspicion 
of guile at all in that round, lovely face, nor in the wide, pleasant blue 
eyes. But the proximity of Hilda's ripe body made Hester's mind teem with 
all sorts of vivid and haunting images ... was it really possible that this 
big woman was actually undressed and her bare behind spanked and wh-whipped? 
What sort of people were the Gilmores, anyway? And how could their children 
and even this maid be so calm and unconcerned about it? 

Hilda crossed over to Constance and Janet, who liberally helped themselves. 
Then the German maid took the teapot and filled all the cups, and then 
walked slowly back towards the curtained archway connecting the living room 
with the hall. There was a duster lying on top of the mantelpiece, and she 
took it and began to flick away imaginary dust from the grand piano. Hester 
took a bite of her cookie, and tried not to look at the buxom maid, wanting 
to banish those incredible images from her mind. But, as if Hilda had 
already gone out, Betty urged: "Go ahead, Janet, what happened after Tony 
used the yardstick on Connie's rear end?" 

"Betty please," Hester whispered desperately, glancing back over at Hilda 
who had her back turned to them. 

"What's the matter, Hes?" Betty loudly inquired, and Hester could have 
cheerfully sunk through the floor. "Go ahead, Janet, as you were saying?" 

"Well, Connie finally managed to push the window back up and get away from 
Tony, and she chased him down the hall. He ran downstairs and then he took a 
swipe at Janet who was in the living room. She got up and chased him, but he 
went over to Hilda there, who was dusting, and gave her a whack across her 
seat too, didn't he, Hilda?" 

Hester was in an agitated state of embarrassment now as the attractive, 
buxom maid turned and smiled and nodded: "Ja, das ist richtig! Master Tony 
hit me pretty hard, too. So I guess I lost my temper and I chased him and I 
got him, and then I put him over my knee and I gave him a good smacking." 

"And then I put in my two cents' worth," Janet interposed, "and told Hilda 
to give it to him good. And wouldn't you know it, but Dad and Mom walked in 
the door right about then!" 

"Oh boy!" Betty giggled irrepressibly. "Wouldn't you just know it! So then 
what happened?" 

"Maybe Hilda would like to tell us," Janet smiled as she turned to the buxom 
German maid. "Mom and Dad didn't let you off just because Tony had whacked 
you, did they?" 

"Gracious no, Miss Janet," Hilda was actually smiling, Hester saw with 
astonishment. "Mrs. Gilmore said I had absolutely no right to lay a hand on 
her children, because that was her job. Of course she did ask Master Tony 
why I was smacking him, and he was man enough to tell the truth. But that 
didn't help me any, just the same, it didn't, I can tell you." 

"You-you mean to say that-that Mrs. Gilmore actually punished you for doing 
what you did to Tony?" Hester could hardly speak audibly, her heart was 
pounding so at this astonishing revelation Had she moved into a town where 
all that anybody thought about was spanking, she wondered? 

"But of course, Miss Hester," was the maid's calm rejoinder. "When I have 
done something wrong, Mrs. Gilmore or Mr. Gilmore always give me a gutes 
Schlagen. And me they saved for last, didn't they, Miss Janet?" 

Janet took up the controversial ball and threw it back at once to confound 
poor Hester even more: "That's right, Hilda. First of all, Mom had the truth 
out of all of us about how the whole thing started. Then she thought that 
Connie ought to have had more sense than to lean out of an open window and 
talk to somebody out in the alley where she'd have to shout so everybody 
would hear. It was rude to start with, and most of all it was dangerous for 
Connie. And then I got a lecture about egging Hilda on against my own 
brother, so I was down for spanks. Only Mom didn't bother to have me write 
anything down in my book. She just said to Dad, 'I think we'd better take 
over right here and now, Fred, and settle up this little account before 
supper,' and Dad said he was in agreement with her. So then Mom went and got 
the rubber dog whip and the sole-oh, how I hate that awful thing, because it 
makes such a loud noise and it's terribly embarrassing because everybody can 
hear that you're getting spanked and then Daddy had Tony come over his lap 
in the armchair and let down his shorts, and then Dad pulled down his 
undershorts and gave him twenty good stingers with the whip. Boy, did Tony 
yowl and kick, just like a girl!" 

"What happened then?" the eager golden-haired adolescent demanded. Hester's 
face was brick-red by now, and she was trying not to look at any of the 
participants in this incredible drama. 

"It was Connie's turn next," Janet confided. "Dad made Connie kneel down 
over the low serving table by the couch and I knelt on the other side and 
held her hands." 

"I always feel braver when I have to take a spanking," Connie suddenly and 
unexpectedly spoke up, "if Janet holds my hands that way, because then I 
know she's sympathizing with me and right there beside me, and it makes it 
sort of easier." 

"I think Connie's just about the bravest of all of us," Janet loyally 
avowed. "Mom came over and pulled up Connie's skirt and petticoat and then 
peeled down her panties, and Dad laid on about twenty-five good cuts with 
the dog whip. Connie was crying a little, but she never does get out of 
position and she didn't once ask for mercy. That's more than I can do when 
I've got my demerit book to wipe out, I can tell you that!" 

"Gosh," Betty irreverently declared, "that was quite a work-out for your 
parents!" 

"It was only just starting," Janet sighed with an air of pained 
reminiscence. "Mom decided I should have the leather sole, and she took 
charge of it herself while Connie went back to her room. Mom took me by the 
ear and marched me over to the armchair, then put her left foot on it and 
bent me over her knee and told me to pull my skirt and slip up as fast as I 
could and keep them held up over my bottom. Then she took down my panties, 
put her left arm around me and held me tight, and Dad handed her the leather 
sole, and she told me to count out twenty. Boy, did it make a noise, like a 
gun going off every time! And it hurt like the dickens, you can bet on that! 
It was all I could do to remember the count, or I would have got an awful 
lot of extras. I bet my bottom was just as red as when Mom uses the dog 
whip." 

"It was at that," Connie spoke up again with a soft little giggle and a 
sympathetic look at her older sister. 

"Ja, when Mrs. Gilmore spanks, she spanks good and hard," Hilda now 
proffered, the feather duster still in her hand. "And then I got it good 
from her, Miss Janet, you remember." 

"Don't I just!" the lovely brunette giggled, but there wasn't any malice in 
it. "Mom took you over by the ear too, just like me, but she made you kneel 
on the chair, didn't she?" 

"That is true," Hilda calmly confirmed. "And I had to pull up my skirts and 
bend over the chair, and she took down my girdle, and then Kerr Gilmore 
first gave me a good hard Schlagen with his hand ... and I will tell you 
truthfully that his hand is just as bad as the Peitsche. But that wasn't 
all, Miss Janet. After he had finished with me, Mrs. Gilmore gave me a good 
talking-to and then she made me count twelve with the Peitsche. Oh how I 
cried and wriggled around, I am afraid I acted like a very naughty little 
child and I was very ashamed. But then it was all over. And everybody was 
forgiven. Nicht wahr?" 

"Sure," Janet obligingly justified. "I'll say one thing, Mom and Dad treat 
you fair and square. Once punishment time is over, everybody's friends again 
and you know, Bets, I'm actually ijeginning to think that because we all 
know that Dad and Mom punish us for our own good, it makes us a stronger 
family." 

"I never heard of such a horrible thing," Hester flashed, tears of 
indignation welling to her large, widely dilated eyes. "How you can all sit 
there calmly and talk about those horrible beatings, those shameful 
punishments, is more than I can understand!" 

"That's because you never got a spanking in all your young life, Hes, and 
you know it," Betty defended her friends with an emphatic nod of her head. 
"You know that I'm not just playacting when I tell you how much I love my 
Mom, Hes. Well, I do. And so do Janet and Connie love theirs, and Hilda 
loves Mrs. Gilmore too, don't you, Hilda?" 

"Ja, she has been so good to me, she and Herr Gilmore. There is nothing I 
would not do for them. They have taken me in and given me a home, and I 
feel-well, I know it is not right for a servant to speak so, but I feel like 
one of the family because I am treated the same way," the buxom German 
blonde maid confessed. "Now, how about some more cookies and tea, Kindern?" 

But Hester had absolutely no appetite for refreshments. She wanted to go 
back home as soon as possible. However, much to her annoyance, her 
stepsister Betty kept harping on the subject, asking Janet when she was 
going to settle the fifty blackmarks in her book, and Janet said she would 
probably do it on Sunday afternoon. 

When Hester finally accompanied Betty back to the house in which she would 
live from now on, her mind was a whirl. And her younger, wiser stepsister 
smiled knowingly to herself. She was sure that when she told her mother by 
the end of next week of what had happened this afternoon over at the 
Gilmore's, Eleanor Hadley would thoroughly approve. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

When Louise Gilmore returned with her fifteen-year-old son Tony from the 
dentist, she sent him at once to his room and, going to her bedroom, changed 
into a green satin negligee and matching mules and then rang the bell for 
Hilda. 

A few moments later, there was a gentle knock on her door, and the 
silver-blonde dominatress called, "Come in, Hilda!" 

The buxom, handsome German maid entered, still wearing her tight black silk 
dress and lace cap, her face at once attentive and adoring. For, even though 
she had to admit to herself that it was not quite right to let the children 
watch her being given Die Peitsche on her naked Hinterbocken, the fact 
remained that when either her mistress or master had administered the 
whipping, she was beginning toderive the most unusually pleasant sensations 
... and these were not entirely from a nostalgic recollection of how her 
father and mother had used to pnnish her. Having come to this country in 
hopes of finding a man and then being disappointed, Hilda at twenty-eight 
had begun to experience certain by now intolerable longings. She was not a 
virgin, for at sixteen behind a hedge back at her father's farm, she had 
tumbled round and round with a very good-looking young farmer's apprentice 
by the name of Hans Georg Viertmann, who had taught her what fucking was 
like. They had had a go at it for several months without her parents' 
finding out until one days Hans Georg's boss had discharged him for making a 
play for his own daughter, and so Hilda's young lover had fled in disgrace 
without even having a chance to say goodbye to his blonde, obliging 
sweetheart. 

Fortune had been kind to her because she hadn't gotten pregnant from that 
very lusty and rather prolonged bout of summer fucking. But after all, that 
had been a dozen years ago, and now she was a full-bodied woman and proud of 
it. The only men in this household were, of course, Herr Gilmore himself and 
the Jungling, Master Tony. He was a stocky, stur dy boy, taking after his 
father, with black hair, a rather rebellious face, and Hilda shrewdly 
suspected that he was coming to the age when he was getting interested in 
girls. She had noticed once, when she had had to help Mrs. Gilmore whip all 
three of the children, and Tony had been last, that he seemed to be taking 
it all in when Janet and Constance had had to pull down their own panties 
and offer their bare Hinterbocken for the ruler smacking which Mrs. Gilmore 
had dealt out. 

Yet all the same, though she could not quite explain all her emotions, Hilda 
stood in something of a sensually adoring attitude towards the silver-blonde 
disciplinarian. And this green satin negligee which shaped out Louise's 
imperious, tall and magnificently developed figure made Hilda's pulses 
quiver and race with more than usual attentiveness. 

"Well, now, Hilda," Louise Gilmore greeted her. "Tell me all about this 
afternoon. Did you do as I told you to?" 

"Ach, ja, Frau Gilmore, I did just that!" Hilda eagerly exclaimed. "I 
brought in cookies and tea several times, and then I pretended to dust a 
little here and there so that I could listen to what they were saying." 

"Very good. And were they talking about spanking?" 

"Oh yes, Frau Gilmore! But it did not seem to make that new one, that 
Hester, very happy. 

She was forever saying that it was a terrible thing for parents to beat 
their children and to be so cruel to them." 

"That is what Eleanor thought would happen," Louise Gilmore said 
thoughtfully, more to herself than to her buxom maid. "Well, next week when 
Eleanor comes back, I shall have a good deal to tell her. And so you say, 
Hilda, that Janet and Connie talked about the way my husband and I punish 
them, I imagine?" 

"Oh yes! And do you know, you will be pleased to hear, Frau Gilmore, they 
both said to this Hester that she was wrong, that they loved you both 
because they knew when they had done wrong and expected to be punished that 
you were fair about it, you and Herr Gilmore," Hilda enthusiastically 
explained. 

Louise Gilmore considered her voluptuously opulent German maid with 
smoldering eyes. Fred had just left for San Diego, where he might spend all 
of the next week or two on business. And she was beginning to feel a certain 
sensual longing, which might well involve this luscious blonde domestic of 
hers, whom she had trained so well and who felt herself already a member of 
the Gilmore family. There was no doubt that Hilda had a masochistic streak 
in her nature. It might well be turned to an erotic advantage. 

According, Louise Gilmore lolled back on her chaise lounge and stared 
appraisingly at her maid, who flushed under this intense scrutiny. "Tell me, 
Hilda, are you perfectly happy with us?" she innocently inquired. 

"Oh yes, Frau Gilmore! I am so happy, it is a good job, I save much money, 
I've become a citizen, and I think the children like me too!" 

"Yes they do, Hilda. You're a wonderful cook, and although at times you're 
forgetful, you're a good girl most of the time. I'm very pleased with you, 
and so is Mr. Gilmore." 

"Oh thank you, Mistress!" Hilda emotionally exclaimed, and then impulsively 
went down on her knees, seized one of Louise Gilmore's hands and bore it to 
her lips and covered it with kisses. 

Louise Gilmore's eyes narrowed and a concupiscent light came into them. 
"Have you been very good these last few days, Hilda?" she murmured, putting 
a hand out on Hilda's shoulder to retain the handsome German domestic in 
this genuflecting position which made her in turn feel all the more like the 
dominatress she was. 

"I-I have tried to be, Mistress." 

"That's true. But now, admit it, I let you off last week when you dropped 
that cup, didn't I? And there was the week before when you forgot to order 
cream from the milkman, and Mr. Gilmore didn't have any for his coffee that 
night, and he was most displeased, but I prevailed upon him to let you off 
that once, do you remember that, Hilda?" 

The buxom blonde tremblingly nodded, her soft blue eyes very wide and fixed 
on her mistress' stern, exotic face. 

"Then I think," Louise murmured softly, "that we should wipe the slate 
clean. Don't you think so? Because then you know I shall be quite happy with 
you and we can share the kiss of peace." 

"Oh yes! If you think I should be punished, Mistress, then I want you too! 
And-and I would rather, oh no, I shouldn't say this-" Hilda blurted, then 
clapped a hand over her mouth and turned a very lovely red as she lowered 
her eyes. 

"You may speak freely, we're alone together in my room," Louise Gilmore told 
her. 

"Then, then, Mistress, the thing is, of course I want always to be punished 
when I have done wrong, but sometimes when it is done before the others, I 
feel ashamed. I know I should, but what I mean is that I am so much happier 
when we are alone like this and you do it to me by yourself, even more than 
when Herr Gilmore does it to me." 

"I think I understand what you're trying to say, Hilda. Very well, I shall 
accommodate you this time. Go lock the door," Louise Gilmore murmured. Her 
voice had become husky, and her titties had begun to rise and fall quickly 
against the clinging and glossy stuff of the negligee. 

"You're sure, Hilda dear, that you want me to punish you?" Now Louise 
Gilmore's voice was throaty and soft, and both her hands softly fondled 
Hilda's dimpled plump shoulders. 

The round, pretty face of the buxom German domestic was scarlet with mingled 
emotions, and her blue eyes were lowered, not daring to meet Louise 
Gilmore's intent look. She could only nod. 

"Very well. You may prepare yourself. But this time, Hilda, I want you all 
naked except for your stockings and shoes," was the edict. 

"Oh, yes, M-Mistress," Hilda gasped almost in relief, it seemed. She rose, 
and began hastily to pull up the black silk dress over her head and 
shoulders. Her lusciously ripe hips wriggling licentiously as she did so. 
Then followed the slip, and now her pink-satiny body was observed in the 
mouthwatering dishabille of a tight white nylon bra with shoulder straps and 
bandeau and the famous white rubber girdle which clung tenaciously about the 
plump rondures of her spacious bottomglobes. Her nylon hose were held up 
high on her thighs by black elastic garters to which attractive little 
rhinestone figures had been sewn-a present from Louise Gilmore herself last 
Christmas. Hilda reached behind her to unhook the bandeau, and then pulled 
off the shoulder straps and hesitantly turned to the little tabouret on 
which she had neatly folded her dress and slip, and laid the bra on that 
growing pile. Now she was naked to the waist, and Louise Gilmore's eyes 
flamed with covetous desire. 

Hilda's titties were arrogantly bold melons, with broad coral auroela in 
whose centers voluptuously ripe, crinkly buds nestled. Her navel was narrow 
and deep, and it provocatively marked the pink goblet of her belly. Her skin 
was marvelously soft and smooth, and the baby-pink tinging of her bare flesh 
was carnally appetizing to the extreme. Although she was robust, and perhaps 
some might have considered her too plump, the fact was that she was 
magnificently and perfectly proportioned. Tall, svelte Louise Gilmore seemed 
to dominate her even now as she peremptorily rose, and moved over to an 
armchair beside the door of her room. "Take off your girdle now, and be 
quick about it, Hilda," she said sternly, and only a faint trembling of her 
voice betrayed her rising emotions, which were not entirely limited to those 
of corporal discipline. 

"Why-yes, M-Mistress," Hilda murmured faintly. Her face was scarlet now as 
she turned her back to the dominatress and, stooping a little, inserted her 
fingers under the waistband of the white rubber sheath and began to tuck it 
down. This maneuver was not accomplished without leveral lascivious twists 
and wrigglings, which had the effect of making her beautiful big firm 
titties jounce and jiggle, and Louise Gilmore's lips were moist and 
quivering by the time the girdle finally quitted Hilda's opulent hips and 
bottomglobes, slithered down to her ankles, and the maid stepped out of it, 
stepped down to retrieve it, and then turned, holding it in her hand almost 
helplessly, as she waited for a new order as to its disposal. 

Louise Gilmore caught her breath at the appetizing, maddening vistas of 
luscious naked young womanflesh displayed to her smoldering eyes. The plump 
cuntmound was thicketed over with a fleece of dark blonde curls which 
covered the plump labia of that sensual orifice and disappeared along the 
groove leading to the nether temple of Sodom. The nylon hose caressed 
Hilda's opulent thighs and admirably rounded, firm, quivering calves with 
the cling of a second skin, and the garters marked a taut indentation in the 
luscious pink columns between which that amorous apex hid itself under the 
silky curls of the pubis. 

"Just drop it, Hilda, it doesn't matter," Louise Gilmore's voice was husky 
now with longing. "Now kneel down on the chair-no, kneel on your palms on 
the chair, and bow your head well over the back at once, you naughty girl!" 

When Hilda took this servile position, her big solid round bottomglobes 
jutted out all the more enticingly, and the gradually broadening furrow 
between them seemed to expand and allow a glimpse of the ambery-shadowy 
cleft which led to her second temple of love. 

"Let me see," Louise Gilmore mused aloud "what shall I whip you with?" She 
looked around eagerly for the ideal instrument, while Hilda, having bent her 
head and shoulders over the back of the chair, waited, the plump cheeks of 
her behind twitching and quivering with anticipation. The muscles of her 
calves and thighs rippled and flexed under the clinging gauzy nylons, and 
her big titties were pressed tightly against the back of the chair of 
punishment. Yet the voluptuous quiverings which beset her almost naked body 
were not those of apprehension ; instead, they were the preface to her 
amorous tumescence. With all her mind and heart, she was conveying thought 
waves to her stern and beautiful mistress, hoping that the latter would take 
pity on her needs and, after giving her a really gutes Schlagen, console 
her. 

Louise Gilmore at last decided on her ivory comb, an heirloom left her by 
her mother. It was solid and weighty, and it could sting smartly, as Hilda 
had already learned from past experience. But first, and because of this 
very intimate setting between them, the dominatress wished to have under her 
hand the naked satiny contours of that voluptuous big bottom, so that the 
feeling of domination and conquest and subjugation would be the more 
intensified. 

Accordingly, she walked back from her dresser to the chair on which Hilda 
knelt, and proffered the comb to the quivering lips of her maid: "Hold that 
between your teeth, Hilda, and don't you dare let it drop, or I'll give you 
twenty extra spanks with it, you understand me?" 

"Oh yes, Mistress!" Hilda eagerly agreed, glancing back at her mistress with 
a beatific smile on her full red lips. To her masochistic soul, this nuance 
of imperious compulsion exactly appeased her little-girl longing to feel the 
security which only a good thrashing could bring about, and after the 
threashing the kiss of peace ... many kisses, Hilda secretly longed for! 

Louise Gilmore did not seem as yet to read her maid's mind. Once Hilda had 
seized the comb between her teeth, the silver-blonde dominatress posed her 
left palm on Hilda's neck, making her bow down her head still more as if she 
were truly the vassal and the serf, and then impreriously ordained, in a 
voice somewhat hoarsened by her own subtle emotions: "I am going to spank 
your big naughty bottom, Hilda, until it stings and is ready for the comb. 
Remember now, don't you dare drop the comb until I am ready for it. Nod your 
head to show me that you're ready for your spanking!" 

Hilda bobbed her head with alacrity. Then, closing her eyes, sucking in her 
breath, her nostrils dilating, she waited, the hardening nipples of her 
titties rasping against the back of the stuffed armchair, pressing all her 
weight down through her knees against her tender palms as if by this kind of 
self-excoriation she would show to her beloved mistress the supreme degree 
of self-debasement and resignation and surrender. 

In doing so, she unconsciously-or perhaps consciously!-thrust out the very 
crown of those ripe, pink-sheened, palpating bottomsummits, as if eagerly 
pleading for the hardest of smacks on their fulsome curves. And now it was 
Louise Gilmore's turn to suck in her own breath at the provocative abandon 
with which her virtually naked maid surrendered herself to this castigation 
which was only feignedly deserved. 

Smack! Louise Gilmore's right hand rose and fell like a plummet. The crisp 
palm resonantly made impact against the broadest, plumpest satiny curve of 
the right buttock, and Hilda's naked hips jerked for an infinitesimal 
instant, as her head rose, her eyes opening, her nostrils dilating still 
more to discover the fierce heat of that initial spank, the prelude to what 
she prayed would be a lengthy and voluptuous correction. 

Louise Gilmore did not disappoint her. The second spank, on the left cheek 
at exactly the same area as its predecessor to the right globe, was 
delivered a full minute later, while Louise Gilmore watched the quivering 
ripples that seemed to move fluidly along the jutting gluteal curves of that 
magnificent Callyphygian amplitude, truly worthy of the Venus Callyphyge 
herself. Then there was a still longer pause while Louise Gilmore's narrowed 
eyes contemplated the bright pink splotches of her palm outlined on each 
bottomsummit with the artistic fidelity of a Rembrandt, and watched the 
globes contract and shiver and then yawn in abandon. 

"Put your head a little lower down, Hilda," she arbitrarily ordered, her 
voice stern and inflexible again. She saw Hilda shiver, saw her squench 
forward on her knees, shifting her palms with them, so as not to leave the 
position; then her almost naked maid humbly shoved down her head and 
shoulders to the maximum, and the spectacular out-thrust of that 
voluptuously pink-satiny bottom made Louise Gilmore shudder and bite her 
lips with a mounting erotic fever which was now overtaking her own loins. 
She moved a little closer to the chair, leaning towards Hilda with almost 
maternal felicitude, her left palm still bearing down on the young woman's 
neck. Now her right palm seemed to caress each of the sumptuous cheeks, as 
if constating not only the resilience of the naked netherglobes, but the 
quality of epidermal satin and the potential resistance of this and that 
sector of that opulent and proffered posterior. 

A faint little moan escaped Hilda, for this benign caress not only 
intensified her suspense, but also enervated her lascivious desires. She 
could feel her pussy moistening, the lips twitching, and she was nearly 
swooning with her yearning for her mistress. But she didn't dare drop the 
comb and express herself. She only silently hoped that Frau Gilmore would 
understand, would comprehend what was taking place inside of her. 

Hilda had never experienced Sapphic love. But, wiser than her own mind, her 
body yearned to experience it now, and all her shudderings and quiverings, 
all the jutting out and the nervous squirming of her satiny broad hips 
explicity implored such an initiation, though perhaps she could not and 
would not have so expressed herself in words, even if given the opportunity. 

Now, as if satisfied with her palpatations, Louise Gilmore's left fingers 
suddenly gripped the soft round neck of her maid, signaling to Hilda that 
the moment had come for the serious part of the chastisement. And then 
briskly, her right hand rose and fell a dozen times, alternating on the 
buttocks, first right and then left, beginning at the tops of hips and 
working down towards the summits and applying crisp, vigorous slaps which 
immediately imparted a vivid crimson coloration to the warm natural pink 
satin of the naked flesh thus chastised. 

Hilda's teeth clutched the comb as if her life depended upon it; her eyes 
closed, her nostrils flaring and shrinking, she contented herself with 
little whining sighs and whimpering moans as the stinging slaps once again 
resumed after a shorter pause. Now Louise Gilmore's hand attacked the lower 
summits, working down towards the base and the tops of the plump full 
thighs, and Hilda squirmed on her palms, shifting herself, but always 
arching forward, always retrieving any lost ground with almost feverish 
desire to prove to her mistress that she was totally submissive as well as 
grateful for this mark of attention. In so doing, her panting titties 
flattened against the back of the chair, and her nipples scratched by the 
upholstery, became hard rosy flints of desire. She felt a moisture gather in 
the depths of her cunt, and her ears were buzzing with the maddening langour 
which had taken possession of her. It seemed to her that she no longer had 
control over her bottom and lower limbs, for now at each stinging and noisy 
slap, her hips jumped and jerked and swerved, as if of their own accord and 
beyond her will to halt them in such salacious gyrations. 

Louise Gilmore did not stop until she had "worked up" that ripe, ample naked 
bottom twice, which meant a total of about sixty slaps. 

Tears were running down Hilda's cheeks by the time Louise Gilmore at last 
stopped, ruefully flexed her fingers, and glanced at her reddened, inflamed 
palm. 

Hilda's shoulders were shaking, and she was squirming back and forth on her 
knees, her fingers clutching them, shifting restlessly, not daring once to 
leave position. Louise Gilmore unfastened the belt of her negligee, and let 
the green satin sheath open like the petals of a flower to reveal her lithe, 
still youthful body. Her own nipples were dark and stiff with longing, and 
the dark blonde muff at the apex of her long svelte, nervously muscled 
thighs was moist as well. Now she moved round the side of the chair, 
extended her right hand towards Hilda's mouth, and took the comb. 

"I will give you two minutes to prepare yourself, Hilda dear," her voice had 
become tender and almost crooning now. "If you need more time, just tell me 
when you are ready. I am going to give you twenty good spanks with the comb 
on your big naked bottom, Hilda. They will be very hard and they will make 
you cry. I permit you to cry." 

By this, Hilda understood that her mistress commanded her to cry and wished 
her to cry; as she glanced back, her eyes welling with tears, her lips 
trembling, she stammered huskily, "Ja, dear Mistress, I will, I will ... oh, 
mistress, thank you for being so good to me, for straightening me out and 
making me a good girl, Mistress! If-if you wish, I am ready now. For I am 
eager to be forgiven my naughtiness." 

"Very well, Hilda. Bend down a little more now ... that's it. Now you will 
count the twenty spanks aloud so I can hear you, you understand?" 

"Oh yes, I will, I will, Mistress!" Hilda gasped with an ecstatic fervor in 
her voice. She had pressed herself tightly against the back of the chair 
now, her bubbies mashing their flinty points against the upholstery, and she 
was beginning to weave her belly and loins against it too. It was the 
unmistakable sign of tumescence, and Louise Gilmore's humid eyes recognized 
it for what it was. 

Once again the fingers of her left hand dug possessively into the soft round 
neck of the humbled naked servant. The ivory comb rose, poised in the air a 
moment and then fell with an angry "Spatt!" 

"Ahhh! One!" Hilda called out in a flurried voice. The comb had bitten 
horizontally over the middle of her right buttock, which was already 
furiously crimsoned. Yet the teeth of the comb seemed to be imprinted with 
their myriad coruscations, standing out against the vivid background left by 
the manual spanking. 

The pause was nearly half a minute now before the comb returned to flatten 
crisply against Hilda's left bottomsummit. Hilda's naked hips jerked from 
side to side, she glanced frantically back at Louise Gilmore, and then 
called out in a sobbing voice, "Two, ahh, oh, two, dear mistress!" 

The silver-blonde imperatrix did not hurry the spanking with the comb. 
Pausing fully twenty seconds between blows, she inflicted them from the 
summits down to the tops of Hilda's thighs, alternating first right and then 
left, till she had reached the count of sixteen. Each of these strokes was 
announced, though Hilda's voice grew more and more flurried and interspersed 
with sobs and groans. But each time she glanced back at her mistress, and 
though her eyes were blinded with tears, there was a tremulous smile on 
those full red lips as if she were experiencing the most physical joy 
instead of suffering. 

Now Louise Gilmore's left hand moved down to the small of Hilda's back, 
palming it; the comb rose, then descended with a violent vertical sting over 
the plump inner edge of the right buttock, just along the tender crease. 

"Ahrrr, oh Mistress, Mistress, seventeen, oh seventeen, oh it hurts! I'll be 
a good girl, I will, I will!" the naked sufferer wailed, and her bottom 
jerked wildly from side to side, as her fingers frantically shifted over 
knees and she seemed to squnch forward even more fervently than before, 
bending down her head and shoulders again and tilting up her scarlet bottom 
as if begging for the combs even harder kisses. 

The eighteenth spank descended vertically over the inner edge of the left 
globe this time, and Hilda's wail of pain was genuine, as she sobbingly 
announced the count and professed a sincere desire to be a very good girl 
from this moment forth. 

The negligee was now yawning so widely that it hid nothing of Louise 
Gilmore's quivering, svelte nakedness. The curls of the dominatress' muff 
were suspiciously matted, for the liquescence of girl-cream released by this 
lascivious and voluptuous chastisement pronounced her own frantic erotic 
longings. 

The final two blows fell, very quickly and almost as one, both striking 
diagonally over the inner edge of the right cheek and the base of the left 
globe. Hilda wailed and jerked and twisted, sobbing out the count, and then, 
covering her face with her hands, burst into hysterical sobs, her entire 
body shaking and quivering as with ague. 

Louise Gilmore put the comb down with a shaking hand on the little tabouret 
nearby, and then briskly dragged off the negligee so that it fell at her 
feet, and was naked in her mules. 

"My poor darling, I didn't mean to hurt you so much. Come, come for your 
kiss of peace now, Hilda dear," she murmured huskily. 

Slowly, Hilda straightened, grimacing and. groaning, as her splotched and 
flaming bottom burned and throbbed implacably. She eased her knees off her 
palms, pressed her hands on the front ends of the chair arms, and slowly got 
down to her feet on the floor, teeteringly standing erect. As she turned, 
she saw that Louise Gilmore was naked. Tears running down her cheeks, her 
eyes widened with wonder, she moved slowly towards the imperatrix, holding 
out her arms, gasping tearfully, "Oh Mistress, I'll be so good, oh 
Mistress!" 

"I know, I know my little darling, I know, Hilda," Louise Gilmore crooned. 
Her hands moved over the swollen, hot bottomglobes, as she pulled the naked 
maid up against her, till their cunts ground together. With a sobbing cry, 
Hilda flung her arms around her naked mistress, and panted, "Oh, Mistress, 
you don't know how much I've wanted you to love me-oh please, love me now, 
after I've been punished! I need it so, werkilich, Lieber Frau Gilmore!" 

"Hush," Louise Gilmore whispered. And her thin lips merged against Hilda's 
ripe, moist, trembling lips, and her hands squeezed those burning 
bottomglobes, as she gave Hilda to understand that all was forgiven now ... 
and that now was the time of solace. 

Whimpering little groans of delight now rose in place of those which had 
announced the anguish of the spanking. The two naked women stood together in 
that luxuriously furnished room, Louise's tongue flicking between Hilda's 
trembling, moist, parted lips, her cunt grinding rhythmically against 
Hilda's plump, luxuriously silky-thatched love-mound. 

"Let's got to bed where we can be more comfy, darling," Louise Gilmore 
murmured, and reluctantly Hilda broke away from that passionate conclave. 
Then, her eyes shining through her ears, holding Louise Gilmore's hand, she 
walked with her as a child might walk with its mother toward a promised 
treat ... the double bed of Louise Gilmore, awaiting them for the 
assuagement of their needs. 

Lying on her side, Hilda turned to her adored mistress, who merged against 
her, and now Hilda ventured her own tongue between her mistress's lips. Once 
again the rhythmic cunt rubbing began, and once again Hilda moaned with 
delight as she felt her mistress' supple fingers knead and palpate her sore 
and throbbing bare bottomcheeks. 

Then suddenly she was shaken by the explosive fury of climax, and in her 
first Sapphic fulfillment, she knew at last what was meant by the true kiss 
of peace! 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Arthur Hadley and golden-haired Betty's beautiful mother Eleanor came back 
from their Mexican honeymoon on Sunday evening of the second week. In those 
two weeks, as we have seen in the first volume, the somewhat pompous and 
restrained widower had expanded and become far more candid and uninhibited, 
not only in his behavior but also his outlook, thanks to the brown-haired, 
mature Eleanor's indisputably captivating influence. He still couldn't get 
over her frank boldness in having arranged that voyeuristic session at the 
elegant bordello in Cuernavaca; it had revealed unexpected facets of 
Eleanor's character as well as her physical enthusiasm for sex. And he had 
had to admit that at first he had felt extremely guilty about participating 
in such an incredibly exotic if not perverse entertainment ... but what had 
followed had so enchanted him that he realized it would be extremely 
puritanical of him to reproach his beautiful, authoritative wife for 
displaying such a fascination with corporal punishment. 

Moreover, he was intelligent enough and well-read enough-at least 
theoretically-to comprehend that her considerable interest in spanking and 
punishment was for her a kind of sexual stimulus which had probably 
compensated during the years of her widowhood for the loss of her husband in 
bed. There could be no doubt that, quite apart from the very evident proof 
that meticulously selected chastisement ceremonials had served to channel 
her lovely young daughter in the ways of propriety and decorum, they had 
psychologically served Eleanor as a kind of erotic activity which had kept 
her from indiscriminate love affairs or a hasty remarriage simply for the 
sake of finding any man to assuage the deep-rooted passion which throbbed in 
her ardent loins. 

Until he had met her, to be sure, Arthur Hadley had had a kind of pedantic 
outlook on the uprearing of children, and he had come to the conclusion, 
along with many modern educators, that corporal punishment was far too 
old-fashioned and based on a domination through fear of the child to bring 
about the wished-for respect for parental authority. Then, when Eleanor had 
admitted to him by what means she had taught her golden-haired, 
pink-skinned, voluptuous young Betty to turn out to be the adorable, 
good-natured and wholesome teenager she was, he had been startled by the 
seeming anachronism which had employed such antiquated and seemingly 
barbarous methods in dealing with a twentieth century adolescent 
personality. 

But it was fortunate for Arthur Hadley that he had brought his precocious 
and pampered eighteen-year-old daughter along with him to Malibu, because in 
comparison with the younger golden-haired girl, she had apparently disproved 
what he had considered his own wisdom in having brought Hester up in a 
purely intellectual way, by appealing to her reason and logic rather than 
resorting to the parental palm, hairbrush or strap. And he had actually come 
to the point, during his swift courtship of Betty's mother, of finding 
himself longing to give Hester what, to use the vernacular, might be termed 
"what was coming to her." 

What was, then, his delight during the honeymoon in Mexico, to discover that 
Eleanor was not only a delightful companion with many cultural interests 
similar to his own, but also an extremely passionate sweetheart and lover, 
possessed of a kind of almost impish imagination when it came to the erotic 
arts, in whose pursuit he himself had acquired only a pedantic and far from 
practical knowledge. Because when he had watched, through the one-way panel, 
the pseudo-abduction and coercion and rape of the young bride by the two 
Mexican "bandits" in front of her gagged and bound husband, Arthur Hadley 
had been shocked to discover that he had been almost uncontrollably roused 
by what he had seen, and that the sight of a lovely female bottom squirming 
and weaving and reddening under the blows of a strap or a hairbrush or a 
whip had the power to render him savagely amorous. And it remained only for 
Eleanor in her womanly wisdom to let him see that this late-in-life stimulus 
was, far from being unhealthy or morbid, only the long-delayed outbreak of 
sexual impulses which he had far too long suppressed. 

And so that Sunday evening of their homecoming was a joyous one for Eleanor 
and her lovely daughter Betty. Yet Eleanor Hadley did not exclude her 
stepdaughter Hester from the welcome she gave Betty in her homecoming. Going 
up to the bespectacled, hesitant, auburn-haired girl, Eleanor smilingly 
kissed Hester on the cheek and hugged her and said warmly, "I'm glad to be 
back, Hester dear, and I do hope that you've got to know your new sister a 
little better by now." 

"Y-yes, I have," Hester stammered. Arthur Hadley glanced sharply at his 
daughter. Of course it was too much to expect Hester to call Eleanor 
"Mother" so soon, but just the same in his daughter's tone he detected a 
note of withdrawal and even hostility. And once again he felt his fingers 
flex and tense in the unmistakable urge to turn his daughter over his lap 
and administer to her the most salutary of spankings. 

The colored maid Jennie had made a tasty summer supper to welcome the 
honeymooners back, a strawberry omelet, a huge pitcher of iced tea and a 
very palatable salad, and she had also baked biscuits and a rich, thickly 
frosted chocolate cake with yellow dough which was one of her specialties. 
Arthur and Eleanor sat at each end of the table, with Betty to her mother's 
right and Hester to the left, and uninhibited, warmhearted Betty broke the 
conversational ice by insisting that her mother and "Uncle Arthur" (she had 
agreed before her mother had left for Mexico to call her new father this for 
a time until she could accustom herself to the more intimate and meaningful 
title of "Father") relate to her something of the sights they had seen in 
that fascinating country south of the border. 

Needless to say, neither Arthur nor Eleanor touched at all upon the bordello 
episode in Cuernavaca, but both of them were able to furnish ample details 
of the magnificent scenery, the delightful shops, the museums and the 
theaters, the nightclubs and the people they had encountered during their 
stay. Hester lost some of her diffidence and let herself be drawn into the 
conversation, eagerly asking her father about the historical landmarks he 
had visited, such as the battlefield on which the Austrian Emperior 
Maximilian had surrendered to Mexico's first great president, Benito Juarez. 

At last it was time for bed, and Betty charmingly excused herself, going 
over to her "Uncle Arthur," bending down to him in his armchair, putting her 
arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly on the cheek. Hester, standing 
by, colored hotly at this mark of affectatious familiarity as she believed 
it to be. And while Eleanor glanced curiously at her new stepdaughter Hester 
drew herself up and said in a cool impersonal voice, "Good night, Father." 
Then, just glancing at her stepmother, she said listlessly, she said, "Good 
night," and then went up the stairs to her room. 

"I'll come in to wish you good night, Betty dear, in a little while," 
Eleanor called after her golden-haired daughter. When the two girls had 
disappeared, she looked mischievously at her husband and murmured, "Well, 
Arthur, now it's going to be interesting to begin our new life together as 
parents of two very different and certainly unusual girls, don't you think?" 

"Indeed it is, Eleanor darling." He rose from his chair and came over to her 
on the couch, seated himself beside her, slipped his left arm around her 
waist and took her hands in his right hand. "I just hope, however, that this 
doubly new problem of fatherhood isn't going to estrange us." 

"If, sir," she archly countered, a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes, "by 
that you mean our own private lives, I don't think you have to have any 
worry on that account. That is of course, unless you're already tired of 
me." 

"Eleanor!" he reproachfully gasped as he hugged her to him, lifted her hands 
to his lips and kissed their soft fingers ardently, "you know better than 
that!" 

"Thank you, darling. I'll say this, you've certainly made a wonderful start 
as a husband and lover. Of course, I'll be much interested to see how you 
take to your new fatherly responsibilities. And I mean with Hester as well 
as with my girl. I want to be asolutely fair, Arthur. We must both be that 
way, you know. Although it's very true that Hester shows herself to be very 
badly in need of discipling, I think it would be a very great mistake to 
rush matters. I feel that somehow things will work out just naturally until 
the time comes that both of us agree that she must begin, late though it 
certainly is, to shape up, as the saying goes." 

"Speaking of shapes, darling," he murmured in her ear, "I'm just crazy about 
yours. Let's go to bed right now." 

"You really are a changed man, Arthur Hadley," she teased softly, rubbing 
noses with him. "All right. You go ahead and shave and do whatever you want 
to do, and I'll go and tuck Betty in and say goodnight to my darling, and 
then I'll join you." 

"Aren't you going to say good night to Hester too?" he amusedly asked. 

"I think she'd resent that. I saw her look at me when Betty was kissing me. 
I think you noticed it too, Arthur." 

"Yes, I did. I could have slapped Hester for that silly, almost hurt look 
she had on her face. She's going to realize very soon that I was lucky 
enough to find the most wonderful mother for her and also the most wonderful 
sister." 

"Betty and I thank you, Arthur darling. And now, I think before we forget 
ourselves and act like a couple of teenaged kids right here on the sofa in 
front of God and everybody, I'd better say my goodnight to Betty," She gave 
him a stinging kiss on the mouth, and then laughingly broke away from his 
grasp as she hurried up the stairs. 

Betty had already changed into her pretty yellow cotton pajamas and was in 
bed with the sheets tucked up about her neck as her mother gently opened the 
door and came in. She sat up in bed and gasped, "Ohh, Mummy, I'm so glad you 
came in. I've so much to tell you." 

Eleanor Hadley gently closed the door, but without turning on the light, and 
then made her way over to her daughter's bed and sat down on the edge. For a 
tender, lingering moment, the two put their arms around each other and 
kissed, a moment which Betty treasured because it at once let her know that 
she was still foremost in her mother's affections. 

"There, darling," Eleanor Hadley whispered. "Now, why don't you tell me all 
these things you've got to tell me. Let me guess. It's about Hester and, 
unless I'm very much mistaken, her reaction to your friends. Am I right?" 

"Right as rain, Mummy!" the lovely golden-haired teenager giggled. "Well, 
she's met Verna and Barbara, and the Gilmore girls and the Gilmore maid, and 
Nancy and Sally Jamison, too. And I've sort of spread the word, if you know 
what I mean, Mummy, so that all of them talked about how they got spanked 
when they were naughty." 

"That's my clever little strategist," Eleanor Hadley stroked Betty's golden 
pageboy curls. "Your hair's getting quite long, darling. I suppose you'll 
have to have it cut before school starts, but we'll let it go until the last 
week of vacation, because I love you when your hair's so long. It's so 
womanly and feminine. Now then, just how did Hester react?" 

"Well, Mummy, just like you thought she would. Mrs. Gilmore invited us over 
for tea early this week, and Janet and Connie were telling us how they all 
got a tanning, Tony included and even Hilda too. Hilda was there serving us 
tea and cookies and she piped up and explained how Mr. and Mrs. Gilmore 
punished her for spanking Tony." 

"Well, that must have been a shock to our scholarly new stepsister, hmmmm?" 
Eleanor Hadley laughed. 

"I should say it was, Mummy! And do you know, she said that she had never 
heard of such a horrible thing and she didn't know how all of them could sit 
there and talk about those horrible beatings-that's what she called them." 

"Well, now, and what was the answer to that, darling?" 

"I told her that I felt I ought to be punished when I was naughty, and that 
I loved you awfully, Mummy, and even Hilda came out and said that she felt 
like one of the family because she was treated like Janet and Connie when 
she was bad." 

"That must have been quite a shock to Hester. Well, darling, quite apart 
from that, I suppose you've been a good girl all the time we've been gone?" 

"I've tried. You can ask Jennie." 

"No, darling, I don't work that way. First of all, Jennie loves you almost 
as much as I do and she wouldn't snitch on you, to use the colloquial 
expression. Second, I trust you enough to believe you when you say you've 
been a good girl. So what do you think of Hester, by and large?" 

"I like her a lot, Mummy, I truly do," Betty confessed. "It's only 
that-well, I don't know just how to express it. I guess maybe she's a little 
older than I am and going to college and all makes her look at things 
differently. But sometimes she's so know-it-allish, I just want to-well, I 
just want to slap her!" 

"I'll let you into a little secret, darling. So do your father and I. Yes, 
Betty, I think that if things happen the way I think they might, your new 
sister is going to find out what a spanking is like before she starts her 
first day in college. And now, give me a sweet goodnight kiss and then you 
get your beauty sleep, my little darling." 

"Oh yes, Mummy darling!" Betty sighed, and then hugged her mother as their 
lips met in a long and fervent kiss. 

Eleanor Hadley went back downstairs to the master bedroom, for it had been 
decided that she and Arthur would stay on the first floor and let the two 
girls have their rooms together on the second. There were practical reasons 
for this, so that the newly married couple would have no reason to fear 
intrusion of their desired amorous privacy. Jennie's room was at the other 
end of the first floor, just off the kitchen, and Eleanor had had it very 
attractively furnished because she was very fond of her colored maid. 

When she entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her, Arthur Hadley 
was in his pajama bottoms, just emerging from the bathroom. He flushed like 
a schoolboy and Eleanor giggled and held out her arms to him. 

"I see I'll have to hurry to catch up," she quipped, as he held her tightly 
and began to kiss her neck and cheeks and her lips. "For heaven's sake, 
darling, such ardor two weeks after or wedding day is most satisfying, I can 
tell you! Now don't rumple my dress and let me hurry and get ready!" 

"I don't even want to spare you that much time away from me," he muttered, 
his prick hardening as he felt her body merge to his, her loins knowingly 
and teasingly rubbing over his crotch. 

"It's nice to know you're wanted," Eleanor teased as she nibbled his earlobe 
with her sharp white teeth and then laughingly broke away as he tried to 
pull her towards the bed. "Uh uh, darling, you just get back into bed and 
wait till I come there. I won't be a jiffy." 

"If you are, I might be tempted to give you some of the same medicine you 
give Betty," he quipped, and then his face suddenly went very red, because 
his beautiful new wife was staring at him with a teasing little smile and 
very wide, humid eyes. 

"Well, now, I think that was the least inhibited speech you've ever made to 
me. Arthur Hadley," she declaimed. "We'll talk about that later. But right 
now, I want to get all nice and ready for you, because I'm all nice and hot 
for my wonderful new husband. So be a good boy and wait, you hear?" 

With this, she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, 
while Arthur Hadley got into bed, his prick threatening to burst through the 
fly of his pajama bottoms. He reached over, took a pack of cigarettes, lit 
one, lay back and waited, his heart pounding wildly. Decidedly, he felt like 
a young man again, and it was all Eleanor's doing. 

A few minutes later, the brunette emerged in a filmy white nylon nightie 
that left nothing to the imagination so far as its diaphanous adherence to 
her opulent charms was concerned. He could see the thick, dark brown 
triangle of her muff, the heavy jut of her beautiful round titties and the 
dark peaks which signifed those sweet, erogenously sensitive nipple buds 
which his fingers and lips so loved to linger over, as well as the 
prick-hardening flair of her haunches and beautifully, muscled, round, solid 
thighs, whose muscular ardor he had learned so deliciously during their 
fiery Mexican honeymoon. 

"Here, let me have a puff or two of that before you put it out, darling," 
she murmured as she slipped into bed beside him, reached over him to take 
the cigarette from the ashtray beside the bed. As she moved back beside him, 
her free hand crept down under the sheets and came to rest against the rigid 
polarity of his prick, and she gave him a tantalizing little squeeze between 
thumb and forefinger that nearly made him burst. 

"You're going to pay dearly for that, young lady," he threatened, his voice 
hoarse and unsteady with longing. Eleanor Hadley puffed at the cigarette, 
tilted back her head, closed her eyes and dreamily let a series of blue 
rings rise towards the ceiling. Then she handed back the cigarette to him, 
he took a last, nervous puff and crushed it out, and then turned to her. 
With a moan, she moved closer to him, her mouth instantly merged to his and 
her nimble tongue flicked in and out between his lips. His hands began to 
fondle her titties and he drew her over onto her side as he turned towards 
her, so that she could feel the stab of his bulging cock against her furry 
crotch. 

"Eleanor, Eleanor!" he murmured huskily. "You're the most wonderful thing 
that ever happened to me! I tell you one thing, even if Betty is naughty, 
I'm going to discount her first spanking as a kind of dividend for having 
struck up an introduction between the two of us. She deserves a reward for 
throwing that beach ball the way she did, and I'll never forget it." 

"I'll tell her," Eleanor whispered, nibbling his earlobe with her sharp, 
white teeth. "But don't forget, young man, we both have to agree when the 
time comes for you to give Betty her first paternal spanking. Remember, all 
these past six years she's known only me as her disciplinarian, and just as 
your Hester is going to have to adjust to her very first chastisement, so 
Betty is going to have to accustom herself to having a man in the house 
again." 

"Agreed. In the meantime, since I have the original first edition right here 
beside me, there's no reason why I can't take out my spanking impulses on 
you," he whispered, as his right hand moved over to squeeze one of her 
luscious, ample yet marvelously satiny resilient buttocks. 

"Sadist!" she giggled irrepressibly. "Sadist isn't so." 

"Ow!" he groaned in mock alarm. "That really deserves a swatting," and with 
this he lifted his right hand and gave Eleanor a stinging, noisy slap on her 
bottom. 

"Mmmmm," she moaned lasciviously, wriggling up tightly against him so he 
could feel the furry curls of her cunt practically inviting his cock to tear 
through the single thickness of nightie and come house itself in her 
inviting depths. "You're quite a caveman, Arthur, lover ... now hurry, I'm 
just dying for you to put it into me...." 

With this she lifted the hems of her nightie while he swiftly dragged down 
his pajama bottoms, and then with as gasp of ecstasy he felt the merger of 
their naked, palpitating, hot flesh. At once his prick had gouged against 
the thick, crisp curls of her cunthole, and her lips crushed his furiously 
as she wound her arms around him and surrendered herself. 

He could feel himself edging between the pulsing pink lips of her vulva, and 
he heard her groan as he slipped down and began to forage deep into her 
channel till, in a long continuous thrust, he felt himself imbedded to his 
balls. 

She clamped her left leg over his, arching to him as her tongue boldly and 
wantonly furled between his lips, while she moved her lips in tiny little 
agitated movements so as to scrape his impaling ramrod to this angle and 
that against the crannies of her concupiscent cunt. 

"Welcome home, darling," she breathed, as with a groan of delight, he rolled 
her over onto her back, wanting to take the initiative, and then they began 
to fuck with a steady and deliriously savoring rhythm which finally 
quickened as their passions mounted. And these tears which sprang to 
Eleanor's eyes as her body shuddered with the furious tumult of orgasm were 
indeed the happiest tears of all! 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

"Eleanor! It's Louise." It was the Friday afternoon following the return of 
the Hadleys from Mexico, and the brown-haired matron had just picked up her 
phone extension in her bedroom in answer to the first ring. Eleanor glanced 
at herself in her boudoir mirror and smiled. Marriage was certainly agreeing 
with her, for she didn't look her thirty-nine years at all. And her fine 
white skin, tanned not only from Malibu but from the ardent sun of Mexico, 
seemed more vividly glowing than ever, proof that when a widow finds even at 
this mature and late stage in life a man capable of satisfying her in bed, 
she too undergoes a kind of physical renaissance. 

"Hi, Louise. How's everything over at your house?" 

"That's what I was calling you about, dear," came the voice of the 
silver-blonde dominatress "Are you still interested in continuing that 
little project of education impression which you spoke about just before you 
and Arthur went off to the land of the Aztecs?" 

"Decidedly I am, Louise. Hester is getting more difficult every day. I am 
beginning to see what poor Arthur had to go through all this time, and 
without any disrespect meant for his first wife, all I can say is that the 
two of them let themselves be buffaloed by that very consummately precocious 
young lady." 

"I thought you might feel that way, Eleanor," Louise Gilmore laughed softly. 
"Well, if your stepdaughter happens to be around, and Betty too, you might 
want to send them over about five o'clock. That is when Janet is going to 
pay off all the black marks in her ledger. The poor darling accumulated a 
great many this week, and apparently last week when her score was only 
fifty, she was in hopes of putting off her reckoning, with the idea that the 
score would remain the same. You know, I think I told you yesterday, that 
there was some horseplay with the children and even Hilda participating, 
which earned Janet an unscheduled dose of the leather sole." 

"I know. Betty told me about it. That was the famous tea party at which my 
new daughter expressed herself so dramatically, wasn't it?" 

"The very same," Louise Gilmore laughed again. "I'm afraid she'll really 
consider me a barbarian when she sees what poor Janet will have to undergo 
this evening. It's a total of a hundred fifty now, and for the hour 
preceding our little settling of the score, that naughty young lady is being 
shut up in the doghouse." 

"My gracious!" Eleanor Hadley said interestedly. "Janet must really have 
been out of line to have earned that!" 

The Gilmore "doghouse" was nothing more nor less than an old packing crate 
about six feet long and two feet deep, one end of which had been cut away to 
resemble the opening of a canine dwelling. It was kept in the basement of 
the Gilmore house, and whenever Tony or the two girls had particularly 
offended their parents, they were invariably sentenced to spend an hour of 
incarceration for the purpose of meditating over their naughtiness just 
prior to the painful retribution exacted from their adolescent bottoms. 
Louise Gilmore, Eleanor Hadley well knew, was more severe than she herself 
was apt to be with Betty, and went even further along the road of ritualism 
and ceremonial to drive home the painful but unforgettable lessons she 
wished her offspring to acquire in an indelible way. 

"I'm afraid she was, Eleanor," was the answer. "You know, I allow her about 
ten days to wipe out the black marks in the book, and today was the last 
day. But on Monday, the impertinent minx argued with me over what subjects 
she was going to take her first semester of college-by the way, you and I 
must both have a little conversation on curricula where both Hester and 
Janet are concerned." 

"Whenever you like, Louise. But do go on." 

"Yes, of course. Well, as I was saying, she was most impertinent and I told 
her to go put down another twenty-five. What did she do but stamp her foot 
and say that I was being unfair, that she was grown-up now, old enough to go 
to college, and she thought I ought to reconsider the subject of spankings 
where she was concerned. I simply told her to put down fifty instead of 
twenty-five, which brought her score up to a hundred. And I told her that 
for stamping her foot, I was going to think of something extra, unless she 
made sufficient amends between then and today to warrant leniency." 

"And I take it she didn't." 

"You're right as always, Eleanor. No, she decidedly didn't. Yesterday 
evening, after Fred had come home, she tried to go over my head, so to 
speak, by appealing to him, and gave him quite a lengthy and lawyer-like 
argument. I must say it was an ill-advised attempt on her part. Fred told 
her that she'd just been itching for a good sound spanking and he was 
leaving the decision up to me. As for her being too old for it, he let her 
know then and there that until she got married and left our house, she was 
going to be spanked whenever she deserved it, no matter if she was 
twenty-one or more." 

"That must have floored poor Janet," Eleanor said sympathetically. 

"It's her own fault, Eleanor. She just will not learn. You see, it upsets 
her so much to think of being humiliated and have her younger sister and 
brother find out about her being spanked like a child, and yet the paradox 
is that she apparently goes out of her way to invite the very treatment 
which so upsets her. Maybe it's a quirk in her nature, or just youthful 
rebellion. But at any rate, I told her that I didn't much appreciate her 
flouting my decision and that she would only aggravate her case. So then she 
stamped her foot again and said we were both treating her like a little 
child and we'd both be sorry some day. Well, Fred blew up at that point. He 
took her by the ear and smacked her bottom a couple of times with the flat 
of his hand and told her she could just march back to the ledger and write 
down another fifty, and that if she didn't submit herself properly today, I 
was to tell him when he got back from his out-of-town trip this Sunday, and 
he would personally take a hand and do whatever I had failed to do." 

"And so?" 

"And so," Louise Gilmore laughed, "Janet is now in the doghouse thinking 
over her mistakes and I can assure you she is a very chastened young lady. 
Before I put her in there, she said to me very humbly, 'Mother, I'm very 
sorry I acted up so, and I'm going to take my punishment from you without 
any fuss, I promise.' So I told her that I had heard that speech from her 
several times over the past year and I was going to make very certain that 
she wasn't going to forget the lesson by inviting some of her best friends 
over to watch her being spanked. And that, after this long preamble, Eleanor 
dear, is why I'm calling. I think that if Hester and Betty were to come over 
by five, Hester would be shocked out of her complacency. And I want her to 
hear what Janet has to say when the punishment is over, so as to change Miss 
Hester's opinion about barbarians. You see, in my way I'm just as generous 
to all my children as you are to Betty and I never deny them anything and I 
don't let punishment interefere. Long ago Fred and I reasoned it out that 
instead of withholding something the children wanted and probably 
justifiably deserved, it was just as well to spank and wipe out the error 
and the sin rather than deprive them, which has always struck me as being a 
very negative way of discipline." 

"I'm a hundred percent in agreement with you there, Louise. Very well, I'll 
send Betty and Hester over. And one thing more, Louise-" 

"Yes, dear?" 

"One of these days I may want to borrow that famous new leather sole of 
yours. I'll tell you a little more about a plan that's been brewing in my 
mind the past few days. Maybe when we play bridge together with the Jamisons 
and the Carruthers. See you then, Louise." 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Hester Hadley stared with disbelief at her golden-haired stepsister. "You 
mean poor Janet is actually going to be punished in front of strangers?" she 
gasped. 

"Oh, for goodness sake, Hes," Betty expostulated. "Who say we're strangers? 
Janet and I have been pals for a long time, and I'm even closer to Connie." 

"I know," Hester protested, "but it's shocking! I never heard of such a 
thing, a parent actually wanting somebody else to watch her daughter get 
sp-spanked. I don't want to go!" 

"Mother would like you to, though," was Betty's insinuating reply, "and so 
would your Dad." 

"How do you know what my father wants me to do, Betty?" Hester indignantly 
flashed. 

"Maybe," Betty said coolly, "I better tell Mom the way you feel. She might 
want to say something to you." 

"Oh, if you're going to make a federal case out of it, I'll go," Hester 
peevishly exclaimed. "But that doesn't mean I agree with Mrs. Gilmore's 
methods. Why, Janet is as old as I am, and it's absolutely terrible to 
punish her that humiliating way!" 

"I know how you feel, Hes," the lovely golden-haired teenager patiently 
countered, "but just the same, you better keep your opinions to yourself 
when you're in Mrs. Gilmore's house. Come on, it's nearly five o'clock. I 
told you that Mom asked me to say she'd like to have you go with me. And 
I'll tell you something else, Janet doesn't mind at all." 

"She doesn't?" Hester echoed. She couldn't understand the motivation of all 
these girls Betty seemed to know so well. Why, if she were going to be 
punished in this ridiculous and humiliating and painful way, having anyone 
else know about it would be the last thing in the world she'd want. 

"Of course, you silly," Betty was talking to her stepsister as if the latter 
were her own age instead of two years older. "Janet says it helps take her 
mind off things. She feels she's among friends and it makes it easier for 
her to stand her spanking. Hurry up now!" 

It was pretty, milky skinned, brown-haired Connie Gilmore who opened the 
door to Betty's ring and ushered them silently out of the living room and 
down the hall and up the stairs to Janet's bedroom. 

Tony was out biking with some of his cronies from school, with the strict 
admonition not to come back until about six o'clock in time to wash up for 
supper. Mr. Gilmore had suddenly gone out of town again and wouldn't be back 
until the following Thursday evening. So there was hardly any final court of 
appeal for poor Janet except her mother, and her mother had already acted as 
jury and judge and was now about to assume the role of executioner. 

Connie glanced at her wristwatch. "Mother is just about ready to start," she 
whispered. "I guess Janet has been doing a lot of thinking in the doghouse. 
I sneaked out there a little while ago and I asked her how she felt, and 
Janet said it was something fierce to be in there all by herself thinking 
about what was going to happen at five o'clock, and she was sorry she had 
been so uppity to Mom and Dad." 

"Doghouse?" Hester stared at the pretty brunette uncomprehendingly. 

"Tell her, Connie," Betty said laconically as they walked up the stairs 
towards Janet's bedroom. 

"Well," Connie hastily explained to the astounded auburn-haired daughter of 
Arthur Hadley, "whenever anyone of us is really awfully naughty, like 
talking back or making a scene of showing temper, we're put in the doghouse. 
It's a big packing crate cut out like a real doghouse, and when you go in 
there, you think about how wrong you've been and how you're going to be 
punished for it. None of us like it." 

"I shouldn't think so!" Hester gasped, glancing at Betty with widened eyes. 
But her stepsister put a finger to her lips to caution Hester against any 
such outspoken criticisms of Louise Gilmore's procedural methods, and then 
Connie knocked gently at the closed door of the bedroom and was told by her 
mother to "Come in, girls!" 

Connie opened the door and stood back to let Betty and Hester enter. The 
latter caught her breath and put her hand to her gaping mouth at the scene 
before her. Betty, swiftly realizing that Hester was overcome with dismayed 
surprise, grasped her firmly by the elbow and steered her over to a row of 
chairs which was placed at the wall opposite the bed and made her sit down, 
herself taking a place next to Hester, while Connie quietly slipped into the 
third chair. 

The pretty eighteen-year-old brunette was stretched out on her bed, her 
pillow under her stomach, and her slim ankles were corded to the posts at 
the foot of the bed, while her wrists were similarly bound to the headposts. 
She was stark naked, and over her head was a kind of black hood into which 
slits had been cut for the eyes, mouth and nose. Hester could not take her 
eyes off the prostrate, straddled naked body of Janet Gilmore. And what she 
noticed first of all was Janet's bottom, the skin of which was a warm, 
flawlessly smooth olive tint. It was pear-shapted, and the cheeks were 
exceptionally plump and set rather tightly together, the shadowy crease 
between them broadening just at the base of the buttocks. Janet's thighs 
were delightfully curvaceous, and her calves were slim and sinuously set, 
the muscles already fluidly in play to denote her nervous anticipation of 
what was to ensue. 

Louise Gilmore, in a black cotton dress, looked quite severe, and her face 
was grave. In her right hand, she held the little rubber dog whip which had 
become the primary instrument of chastisement in the household, when 
correction of a serious nature was in order. 

"Very well," she said in a calm voice, "I think we are ready to begin. 
Janet, you understand that this session will clear your ledger, and that you 
have a total of one hundred and fifty black marks on it to this moment." 

"Y-yes, M-Mother," Janet's voice was muffled, and she seemed to keep her 
face down against the sheets. The skin of her bottom twitched spasmodically, 
and then a long shiver ran up and down her straddled thighs. Hester could 
not take her eyes off the naked girl, and Betty surreptitiously entwined her 
fingers with Hester's and squeezed them significantly, intimating to her 
stepsister that she mustn't speak. For that matter, Hester couldn't have 
uttered a sound if she had wanted to; she had never before in all her life 
imagined that such a spectacle could take place, much less in the presence 
of witnesses. And the sight of that little black whip dangling from Louise 
Gil-, more's hand made her positively ill. It was unthinkable that a girl as 
grownup as Janet should actually resign herself to being beaten with it, 
and, worst of all, to allow an audience like this! 

"Very well, dear. One hundred fifty spanks, then. Since we have always 
agreed that the demerits in the ledger must be wiped out no later than ten 
days after the entry of the first portion of these marks, you unfortunately 
are going to be expected to stand the entire amount here and now. Is that 
understood, Janet?" 

"Y-yes, M-Mother," again Janet's voice was the solid, rather heavy gloves 
relaxed with a vivid muffled and faint. But this time the muscles of her 
little shiver that spoke eloquent volumes on the lovely naked brunette's 
summoning up of all her bare bottom seemed to contract, and then again 
courage before the imminent ordeal. 

"To make matters easier for you, Janet," her your punishment into five 
periods of thirty spanks each, with a pause between each set of thirty to 
give you time to rest a little." 

"T-thank you, M-Mother." Once again, Janet's voice was faint and tremulous. 

Louise Gilmore placed herself at the left edge of the bed, slowly raised her 
right arm and then brought down the little black rubber dog whip with a 
hissing onrush through the air as it clung over the tops of Janet's bulky 
olivesheened hips. Hester Hadley uttered a stifled gasp, which Betty 
reproved by digging her fingernails into Hester's wrist. Under the first 
cut, Janet's naked bottom stiffened, and Hester could see the brunette's 
bare toes twist and curl, but no sound was heard. She marveled at the 
victim's composure and stoicism. The whip was short and made of rubber, 
extremely flexible and pliant, but nevertheless in Hester's untutored eyes 
it looked like the most ferocious implement devised by the torturers of the 
Holy Inquisition for the martyrdom of helpless females. Her eyes were huge 
and hypnotically fixed on the straddled, masked, naked young sufferer 
tethered to the bed. 

A second blow now followed, a little lower down, leaping across both upper 
bottomglobes. 

Again Janet's gluteal muscles contracted and then relaxed, making her bare 
bottom quake in the most provocative manner, and Hester believed that she 
could hear a faint indrawn breath from the victim. Only two lashes and 
already the finely grained olive-warm bare skin of Janet's upper hip slopes 
bore two vivid pink strips. The total of a hundred fifty spanks summarily 
announced by Janet's mother seemed to Hester to be an intolerable martyrdom, 
medieval in its cruelty. But try as she would, she could not wrest her gaze 
away from the condemned bottom, and to her own embarrassment, she found 
herself comparing Janet's naked seat with her younger stepsister's plump 
round nether globes. 

The third cut fell after about ten seconds, pursuing the descending pathway 
in horizontal pattern, inflicting a third stripe which made three neatly 
parallel lines standing out on the warm olive epidermis of Janet's naked 
behind. Once again, the brunette managed to suppress any outcry, but her 
fingers convulsively clutched the sheets and she lifted her head slightly, 
staring through the slits of her black cloth mask at the mahogany headboard 
of her bed. Connie Gilmore sat back, her hands demurely folded in her lap, a 
sympathetic look on her pretty face, as she followed her older sister's 
ordeal, doubtless reflecting to herself how fortunate she was in not being 
in Janet's place. Oddly enough, Mrs. Gilmore had imposed the matter of 
keeping a ledger of demerits only on Janet and not on Connie or Tony, who 
were most usually punished shortly after any single commission of a 
misdemeanor. This alteration of the Gilmore regimen was, obviously, intended 
to emphasize to the oldest of the Gilmore offspring that the age of eighteen 
did not immunize her from corporal chastisement and let her at the same time 
observe with what impartial and severely just authority her mother acted in 
the role of supervisory guardian. 

The fourth and now the fifth lashes of the little black rubber dog whip fell 
with hardly a space between them, yet each continued the deliberately 
methodical pattern of horizontal stripes in a downward path over both 
upreared, tightly stretched bare bottom cheeks. Janet's first audible gasp 
was heard after the fifth, and her hindquarters seemed to clench 
protectively, and then to relax, so that for an instant Hester Hadley could 
espy the ambery furrow which bisected those resilient, spaciously broad 
bottomovals. 

Louise Gilmore paused a moment now, studying the thin bright pink weals thus 
far imprinted on her daughter's bare buttocks. During this interlude, Janet 
nervously shifted herself over the pillow, tentatively trying the extent of 
tension on her bound wrists and ankles to avoid chafing her delicate limbs 
in useless jerking, as she anticipated the growing severity and pain of her 
punishment. Now once again the little whip rose slowly in the air, hovering 
over the condemned naked behind like a Damoclean sword. Then it flashed 
down, bridging both buttocks a few inches above the ripest curves, and 
Janet's bare hips executed a flurried weaving from side to side, a 
licentious maneuver which suggested that she was beginning to seek 
distraction from the stinging kisses of the little whip by frictioning her 
soft femininity against the pillow which pressed so tightly against that 
most intimate niche. 

The next four cuts were given almost together, expertly placed by the 
silver-blonde dominatress so that the very last-the tenth spank in all of 
Janet's lengthy punishmentbit home over the exact center of those ripened 
summits. Again Hester could hear Janet suck in her breath rather loudly, an 
this time the brunette turned her masked face back to her left as if to look 
at her beautiful, stern executioner. 

All this seemed to have taken a century, though actually it had taken not 
more than two or three minutes; it appeared to Hester that it would take 
hours before the terrifyingly barbaric total of a hundred and fifty strokes 
from that cruel little whip could be meted out. And in what condition, 
Hester asked herself, would poor Janet's bottom be then? Why, her flesh was 
sure to be scarred and bleeding. Oh it was monstrous, incredible in this day 
and age! 

Already beads of sweat gleamed on Hester's forehead, and her breath came 
more and more quickly, while her bosom rose and fell under the prey of a 
singlar emotion which she mistook for horrified fascination and incredulity, 
but which, unbeknownst to herself, was actually her first naive reaction to 
voluptuous domestic correction. 

Once again Louise Gilmore paused, moved slightly to the left, and then again 
her right arm rose to poise the little whip in the air over the twitching 
bottom of her errant daughter. It descended with a whistling hiss that made 
Hester's blood run cold, and the black thong clung tenaciously across both 
huddling olivetinted bottomcheeks about a quarter of an inch below the mark 
left by the tenth spank. Janet's hips seemed to jerk under the burning sting 
of the little whip, and again she lifted her masked face, but still not a 
word of supplication emerged. 

By the time the twentieth spank had been inflicted, Louise Gilmore had 
entirely covered the area between the tops of Janet's hips and the 
succulent, upswelling base of the spacious, solid and meaty bottomovals. 
Janet's toes were twisting and curling ceaselessly now, while her fingers 
had begun to dig into her moist soft palms. She shifted herself lightly over 
the pillow, testing the maximum play of the bonds which fixed round her slim 
ankles, and seeking a more comfortable pose with her left cheek pressed down 
against the sheets, awaited the resumption of her punishment. 

Hester Hadley sat there trembling, the presence of Connie and Betty 
virtually forgotten. The world seemed to revolve around her and that 
olive-sheened naked pinioned body there beyond her on the bed, and the 
svelte, tall imperatrix from whose right hand the sinister little implement 
of fustigation dangled. 

The next series of ten lashes, again horizontally inflicted, seemed to be 
directed with the aim of "touching up" those areas of bare skin between the 
tops of the girl's hips and her thighs which had not been visited by the 
wicked little lash. Despite herself, Hester had to marvel at the dexterity 
and accuracy of Louise Gilmore's aim in planting the little black rubber 
thong across both quivering hillocks and deepening the overall decor of 
bright pink stripes which, by the time her arm descended for the thirtieth 
time, appeared now to leave not an inch of skin untouched on that plump, 
upjutting bare bottom. 

Janet had begun to gasp aloud, wordless interjections of "Ohh!" and "Ahhh!" 
towards the last five strokes, while again her masked face turned rather 
quickly over her left shoulder toward the lovely silver-blonde executioner. 
Now Louise Gilmore walked slowly around the foot of the bed to take her 
stance on the right side, a procedure intended to "equalize" the sting of 
the whipping. From this vantage point, the end of the black rubber thong 
would nip the tender flesh along the outer sector of Janet's left 
bottomglobe, whereas previously the edge of the other cheek had received the 
force of that biting impact. 

Then she spoke: "You may have a minute, Janet, to compose yourself before I 
begin the next series. 

At once, the masked brunette uttered a long tremulous sigh, and seemed to 
adjust herself as best she could in the relative liberty granted her by the 
cords fixing around her slim wrists and ankles. She squirmed her loins 
feverishly over the pillow-almost, to Hester's blushing consternation, as if 
she were trying to distract herself from the fiery heat of her already 
well-whipped bottom by masturbating herself through this self-applied 
friction!-lifted her head and turned her masked face to this side and then 
to that, flexed her slim fingers as well as her dainty bare toes, and then 
exhaled another sigh as she stammered somewhat huskily, "I-I'm ready, 
M-Mother. I'm awfully sorry, really I am." 

"So am I, dear," Louise Gilmore gravely remarked as she lifted up the little 
whip, her eyes contemplating the quivering, broad ovals of her daughter's 
plump, pillow-uplifted naked bottom. 

Hester wanted to cry out, to rise from her chair, to rush to Janet and 
intercede for the courageous young beauty, but her tongue was seemingly 
paralyzed against the roof of her mouth and she felt herself rooted to her 
chair. She could only watch in a mounting stupefaction as the silver-blonde 
dominatress suddenly brought down the wicked-looking little black rubber 
thong with a crisp impact across the tops of Janet's left hip. And this time 
it appeared to Hester that Louise Gilmore was inflicting the spanking to 
just one buttock instead of both of them as hitherto. 

At once she perceived an alteration of Janet's stoicism which had till this 
moment taxed her powers of credulity, for she had found herself telling 
herself that if this were happening to her, she would be shrieking out in 
pain at every stroke and jerking madly at her bonds to break free. However, 
as just the tip of the thong seemed to dart down and smartly kiss the outer 
edge at the top of Janet's left hip, the masked brunette convulsively 
started, lifted her head and emitted a sobbing: "Aaaah, oh, Mother, Mother, 
I won't do it again!" 

The muscles in Janet's bare calves flexed violently, till the smooth olive 
skin of those lovely contours seemed to be especially taut. 

Hester could see the lovely, rather plumpish thighs shivering from 
kneehollow up to the base of that vividly striped bottom, and she found 
herself unconsciously entwining her fingers with Betty's, as if to take 
thereby some fulcrum of sanity against the inhuman torture she was 
witnessing. 

Deliberately Louise Gilmore continued the fustigation. The thirty-first 
through fortieth lashes bit home with the very end of the whip stinging the 
outer edge of the left buttock, and progressing from the top of the hip down 
to the base, exactly in the pattern of the previous thirty strokes. They 
really stung, if Janet's almost instantaneous reactions were to be 
credenced; at each stinging little thud of the rubber thong on bare girl 
flesh, Janet's hips would jerk towards the right, the globes of her inflamed 
bottom violently contracting and then relaxing, and twice her bottom seemed 
to leave the pillow and arch up under the impetus of the little whip's fiery 
kiss. Also, in a low sobbing voice, she began to call out. though in a very 
restrained way: "Oohhh Ouch, Oh Mother!-Ooooh, I'm sorry, I'll be good from 
now on, ouch, ooooh!" 

The next ten lashes visited the inner edge of the right buttock very near 
the crease, and again with just the tip of the black rubber thong. This was 
an exquisitely sensitive area, again judging from Janet's frantic squirmings 
and twistings over the pillow, and Hester observed that the victim now began 
to turn her masked face back to her relentless executioner with almost each 
of those ten cuts. By now, Janet had had exactly one third of her count, 
which is to say fifty strokes out of the hundred and fifty to which she had 
been condemned by the no-longer-postponable demerit total in her ledger 
book. Louise Gilmore allowed her daughter an extra moment of reprieve by 
leaning down to study the furiously inflamed skin of both twitching 
bottomglobes, and then proceeded to Hester's aghast surprise, to inflict the 
last ten strokes of this second series of thirty entirely to Janet's left 
thigh and progressively descending from the base of her bottomcheek to the 
dimpled, delicately veined hollow of her soft knee. This change of target 
seemed to distress the pretty, naked masked brunette more than the preceding 
fifty lashes had done, if one were to judge by her spasmodic wrigglings, and 
her attempt at clenching her thighs tightly shut, which of course could not 
be done because the cords of her ankles yawned her pretty bare legs 
practically a yard apart. Also, she now loudly announced her discomfort that 
was more high pitched than at any time previously: "Aiii! Ohh, Mother, 
please! Owww! I'll be good, Mother! I won't do it again, Mother! Ouch, Ohh 
dear, Ohhh!" 

Once again Louise Gilmore paused and then slowly went round to the other 
side of the bed and calmly observed, "Take a minute's break, Janet." And 
once again the naked brunette shunted herself uneasily across the pillow, 
twisted her toes and fingers, moved her face from side to side, trying 
apparently to find some more comfortable resting place for her cheek in 
which to give herself the maximum degree of self-control in enduring 
resumption of her punishment. 

When the minute was up, Louise Gilmore resumed the spanking with ten slowly 
spaced cuts across the other thigh, applying the first just below the base 
of the upswelling plump bottomoval and then laying neat bright pink parallel 
lines down the hollow of the knee. Janet squealed and sobbed, frantically 
twisting her masked face towards her mother, her hands opened and closed 
into desperate little fists, but she did not fight her bonds. At the 
conclusion of this series of ten lashes, she lay quivering restlessly over 
the pillow, and her loins seemed to grind spasmodically back and forth with 
an irregular rhythm which, to Hester, appeared to be scandalously obscene. 

Still remaining on the left side of the bed and standing close to the 
quivering naked girl, Louise Gilmore continued Janet's spanking with ten 
vertical cuts this time, each of which smacked noisily down on the 
brunette's plump left buttock. Beginning with the outer edge of the globe, 
the silver-blonde imperatrix brought the whip down quickly, with about three 
seconds between cuts, till she had reached the sinuously distended crease 
between the girl's bare nether globes. These new pink stripes crisscrossed 
with the already paling marks, but they apparently caused Janet acute 
distress, for her sobs and tears redoubled in intensity, and now for the 
first time she began to jerk her wrists against the soft felt cords wound 
round them and connecting to the posts at the head of the bed. After another 
slight pause, Louise Gilmore walked round to the girl's right side and 
inflicted ten exactly vertical cuts over the other buttock, again from the 
outer edge of the globe in towards the ambery intimate groove which 
separated the luscious, meaty hillocks of Janet Gilmore's posterior. These 
too drew poignant sobs and little tearful wails of "Aaaaah, Mother! Ohh, 
don't, oh please no more! Oh, I'll be good, so good! I didn't mean to be 
rude, I truly didn't, Mother! Eeeowww!" And her naked young body squirmed 
and jerked fitfully at almost every cut, Hester horrifiedly observed. 

Janet had now received ninety spanks, or three fifths of her total 
punishment. Louise Gilmore allowed her daughter a two-minute pause this 
time, and laid the whip down on the edge of the bed while she slowly 
smoothed her dress with both hands, flexing her fingers as if gathering new 
strength for the completion of her daughter's chastisement. Hester's temples 
were throbbing as with fever, and she stared at Louise Gilmore as if at any 
moment she wanted to get up and plead with the woman to stop whipping that 
poor tortured girl. Janet's bottom was violently inflamed now, and the 
bright pink streaks with their imprinted horizontal marks over both 
straddled thighs offered a lasciviously contrasting pattern to the 
crisscross design imposed over her naked buttocks. Hester asked herself how 
it was possible for that poor girl to endure sixty more of those dreadful 
spanks with that cruel little whip and where there would be room to hit that 
darkened, throbbing plump flesh on which the olive warmth and smoothness had 
long since vanished. 

Glancing at her wristwatch, Louise Gilmore called out, "Time, Janet!" With a 
sobbing gasp, the naked brunette stiffened herself and turned her face so as 
to press her left cheek down against the rumpled sheets. Her hands clenched 
into brave little fists, her squirming toes dug down into the sheets, and 
all her body seemed to-stiffen. But she could-not control the sporadic 
twitching of the angrily reddened skin of her behind nor of the welted thigh 
columns, a sure sign of her enervation. 

Hester wanted to look away, to close her eyes, but she could not. It was as 
if she were riveted to her chair and invisible fingers were drawing up her 
eyelids so that she could not close them. As in an incredible nightmare that 
was all too real, she watched Louise Gilmore pick up the whip, step back 
towards the end of the bed and, measuring her distance with practiced eye, 
apply a diagonal cut which sent the tip of the black rubber thong flicking 
down against the outer edge of Janet's right buttock and drew the lash 
itself down across the plump, upswelling globe to the inner edge of the base 
of the cheek. 

"Oww OOhhhh! Oh please, Mother, it's awful! I'll never be naughty again, I 
promise I won't! I didn't mean to be rude to you and Dad!" Janet wailed, her 
composure deserting her for the first time. Her face quickly turned round 
over her left shoulder, and her body jerked and squirmed with uncontrollable 
gyrations of her violently striped hips. Again her wrists jerked at the felt 
cords, and her head rose, as her mother continued to apply this set of ten 
spanks all in diagonal strokes encompassing that single buttock. After 
having inflicted these, Louise Gilmore moved to the other side of the bed 
and applied ten more to the other buttock, in the same diagonal design, and 
each of these was announced with a piercing squeal and a sobbing plea: 
"Eeeeyarhhh!! Ohh, please not so hard, Mother dear! Ahrrhh! 

Oooooh, I'll be awfully good, oh please let up, Mother! Owwwouuuu!!! I'll 
never do it again, Mother!" 

Louise Gilmore paused about thirty seconds after this second set of ten, and 
then concluded the fourth series of thirty spanks by directing ten quick 
cuts of the little whip, all horizonally lodged between the lower summits 
and the base of her daughters violently discolored naked behind. Janet's 
hips tossed and twisted and jerked, her loins twisting the pillow and 
sometimes Hester could see for an infinitesimal moment a glimpse of the 
black curly pubis which fleeced the girl's virgin mount. The meaty 
bottomovals sporadically huddled, clenched and yawned, and Janet's head 
lifted at each cut as her cries and plaintive assurances of good behavior in 
the future became more and more harrowing and flurried, attesting to the 
unmistakable fact that she was rapidly losing what little remained of her 
sorely tried endurance. 

"Two minutes again, Janet, and then for your final dose," the silver-blonde 
disciplinarian announced. 

Those two minutes seemed to tick by like eternities for the spellbound, 
horrified Hester Hadley. That poor bottom, those lovely tortured thighs! 
That inflamed, twitching flesh which never seemed to be able to relax now, 
and the shaking shoulders as Janet muffled her sobs by pressing her mouth 
against the moist, rumpled sheets of her bed. And how those little fingers 
piteously opened and closed, the firm little fists clenching, then opening 
as Janet's fingers clawed the air as if trying to exorcise the burning 
demons who had invaded her opulent young bottom! 

"Time, Janet, get ready," Louise Gilmore now calmly decreed as she again 
picked up the whip from the edge of the bed on which she had laid it. Hester 
could feel Betty's fingers squeeze hers convulsively, and with a covert 
glance at her golden-haired youngter stepsister, Arthur's daughter noticed 
that Betty's blue eyes were humid and wide and shining and as hypnotically 
fixed on that vividly streaked and up-arched condemned bottom as were her 
own. 

Louise Gilmore herself seemed to take pity on the seriously inflamed 
condition of her daughter's seat, so she proceeded to inflict the last 
thirty spanks with a merciful swiftness. Nonetheless, it was a severe ordeal 
for poor Janet; twenty of the lashes were directed over the girl's straddled 
naked thighs, ten to each column from knee-hollow to the base of the 
shuddering welted globe, and then the final ten cuts were laid on with what 
seemed exemplary vigor right over the plumpest curves of Janet's naked, 
tossing, jerking bottom. These last ten drew a shriek each time the little 
whip fell with an angry crack, and again Janet's hips lunged wildly, 
sometimes arching up in the air and once again revealing to Hester's shocked 
gaze the telltale triangle of black pussy curls which proclaimed the hiding 
place of Janet's tender young cunt. 

"There, my dear," Louise Gilmore said as she moved back to the dresser 
drawers and, opening the top one, put the little whip away. "Your ledger is 
clean now, and I hope for your sake, Janet, that you'll think very seriously 
over the lesson you've learned this afternoon and not get yourself in 
trouble for quite a long time to come. I should think that another spanking 
even as late as the end of next week would be quite painful for you, young 
lady." 

And with this, she left the bedroom. No sooner had she done so than Connie 
hurried up from her chair and ran into the bathroom, coming out a moment 
later with a couple of wet towels which she had wrung out and which she at 
once placed over Janet's naked behind and legs. The moaning sigh of relief 
which the older girl gave made Hester gasp as she realized how poor Janet 
must be suffering. Then Connie proceeded carefully to untie the felt cords 
around her sister's ankles, leaving the girl's wrists till the last. Seating 
herself on the edge of the bed, she stroked Janet's head and murmured, 
"Gosh, honey, it must have hurt awfully, but I'll get you lots more cold 
towels. Shall I put some cold cream on it later?" 

"Oh yes, would you please, Connie?" Janet groaned. "Oh, Lordy, I won't pile 
up that many demerits again, I can tell you that! I feel as if I sat down 
upon a hot stove-ooooh, it hurts so! And on my legs it was worst of all, it 
always is! Ohh, just let me lie here awhile, Connie, I'm so weak!" 

Betty whispered into Hester's ear, "Come on, Hes, time to go home. And don't 
feel too sorry for Janet. I know her only too well. In a couple of days, 
she'll be bouncing around the tennis court as if nothing had happened. She's 
got a really tough heinie, even if this was a specially hard whipping. But 
she'd be the first to tell you that she deserved it and she's just as glad 
it's all over and done with so that she can start with a fresh slate. Let's 
go home, Hes." 

And, her legs weak, her face scarlet with confusion, Hester Hadley left 
Janet Gilmore's bedroom without a word, while Connie and her thrashed older 
sister consoled each other in the way sisters have from time immemorial. And 
thus another significent milestone in Hester Hadley's life had been reached! 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

It was about ten days before the beginning of school, and Eleanor Hadley had 
finally hit upon a plan which would involve Hester in the subtle and complex 
web of parental chastisement in such a way that she needs must take 
compassionate sides. Once having done that, the beautiful brown-haired 
matron reasoned, precocious and diffident Hester would be so intimately 
acquainted with the practice that the final and transitional step of making 
her a victim instead of a mere onlooker or witness would be inevitable. 

Eleanor had mentioned her idea to Arthur, who, arduously involved in setting 
up his own office and contacting potential new clients so that he could 
begin an even increased earning power for his new family, enthusiastically 
gave her the go-ahead approval: "I'm convinced by now, Ellie darling, that 
whatever you do will be right for Hester, just as what you've already done 
for Betty has turned out so beautifully. I want her to have to deal with 
you, appeal to you as her judge, and not look to me for protection. That's 
why I'm just as glad that I'm so busy practically night and day down at that 
new office of mine. After it's all over, I have a feeling that our 
domesticity is going to be closer than ever." 

His beautiful, voluptuous brown-haired wife chuckled softly with agreement 
as she put her arms around him and pressed her pussy insinuatingly against 
his crotch, murmuring into his lips, "I've nothing to complain about thus 
far, Arthur honey. You just keep taking care of me the way you've been doing 
ever since our wedding night, and I've got a feeling this marriage is for 
keeps. Now you hurry off to your office before I forget that I'm a 
practically forty-year-old woman and the mother now of two very different 
and complicated daughters!" 

No sooner had he left for the shopping center mall where his new office was 
located than Eleanor, profiting from the fact that her new stepdaughter 
Hester was still dawdling abed, tiptoed down the hall and knocked softly at 
Betty's door. 

That charming golden haired nymph, most delectable in her yellow cotton 
pajamas, was just about to get up for breakfast, and answered the knock at 
the door with a tremulous, "Come in!" 

Her mother entered and silently closed the door behind her. Betty's eyes 
widened, and she gulped nervously, swiftly searching her mind to remember 
what she had done lately that could sentence her to an unforeseen and 
unexpected dose of strap oil. But her mother's first words at once dispeled 
this guilty notion: "Don't be alarmed, darling, I just wanted to have a very 
private little talk with you, because you can help me, if you will, Betty 
dear." 

Eleanor Hadley was extremely provocative in her green satin negligee under 
which she wore bra and panties, and her mules. Seating herself on the 
straight-backed chair near Betty's dresser, she beckoned to her 
golden-haired daughter, who with a little sigh of happiness hurried over to 
her, seated herself in Eleanor's lap and immediately linked her beautifully 
rounded satiny pink arms around her mother's neck and laid her cheek against 
Eleanor's. Betty loved these intimate moments of cuddling, even after a 
spanking; as a matter-of-fact, it was immediately after a spanking that this 
consolational ritual most gave her the feeling of being loved and of having 
security and forgiving her after she had been naughty. 

"How's my darling big girl?" Eleanor whispered, stroking Betty's golden page 
boy with one hand and the girl's young resilient haunch with the other. 

"Just fine, Mummy," Betty breathed, "it's as if you'd been away all this 
time until just now. I mean, we haven't been close like this for just about 
ages and ages!" 

"I know, Pet," Eleanor soothed. "But don't you worry, once you and Hester go 
back to school, and all the excitement of getting Uncle Arthur introduced to 
the neighbors and starting his private work for himself and introducing 
Hester around to your friends is done with, we can go back to essentials. 
You've been a very good girl lately, darling, and I'm proud of you. Even 
Jennie is proud of you, and she's been listening to the way your stepsister 
has been trying to take the limelight and trying to always be the center of 
attention. And that's what I want to talk to you about, darling, because you 
can help me with her." 

"I, Mummy? How can I help you?" 

"What I'm going to ask, darling, may seem quite unfair, and in advance let 
me say that you certainly have delighted me with the way you've kept out of 
mischief. But within the next few days, darling, it's absolutely essential 
that I find some reason to spank you." 

Betty gasped at this and colored deliciously and hung her head, as she began 
to think about this rather ominous pronunciamento. After a moment, she 
stammered, "I mean, if you think it will help, sure I'll deserve one, Mummy. 
But I don't exactly know what it's all about. Could you maybe tell me 
something about it?" 

"Of course, darling. Look, you know perfectly well that you've taken Hester 
over to meet the Gilmore children and also Verna and Barbara Carruthers, and 
Nancy and Sally Jamison. Hester has not only heard about spanking but she's 
seen a pretty good one, if what you told me about the way Louise Gilmore 
punished Janet last week is any sign." 

"I thought Hes was going to burst, she sat there staring and she was so 
pale," Betty confided. 

"I know, pet. And I'm sure she thought that poor Janet's having to take a 
hundred and fifty spanks with Louise Gilmore's little rubber whip was 
absolutely the last word in torture back from the Middle Ages, didn't she?" 

"She sure did, Mummy!" Betty giggled. Then, sobering instantly, she 
hesitantly repeated, "But why do you want me to get spanked, Mummy? How is 
it going to do anything about Hester?" 

"I'm coming to that, darling. So far, as I've just said, Hester has met all 
your friends and she understands by now that all the parents spank, just as 
I do you. But she hasn't actually seen or heard about my punishing you. And 
now that you are her sister, finding out that you are punished is going to 
affect Hester's thinking about all this. I know she's tried rather hard to 
become one of the family, but she's still quite out of line. Even Jennie is 
a little upset at the arrogant way that Hester orders her around. It's so 
ingrained in Hester's nature to have her own way that she probably doesn't 
even realize it." 

"You mean that if Hester sees or hears me getting spanked, she'll begin to 
find out that she's started to belong to a family where everybody who's 
naughty gets spanked?" Betty reasoned aloud. 

"Exactly, darling! Mummy is very proud of her smart little girl," Eleanor 
hugged Betty and then kissed her on the cheek, while the lovely 
golden-haired girl's arms tightened affectionately around the mature 
brunette matron. "Now, school isn't very far away, but I want Hester to be 
taken out of that protective veneer of hers which makes her such a loner, 
such an anti-social person. That's why I really do wish you would give me an 
excuse to spank you, darling, as soon as possible." 

"Let's see," Betty frowned, pondering. "I could let Hes hear me be 
disrespectful to you and-" 

"Oh no, Betty! I wouldn't like that at all." 

"I'm sorry, Mummy," Betty contritely and hastily countered. "Maybe I could 
drop a dish or something-" 

"That's it!" Eleanor Hadley almost gleefully exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. 
"Uncle Arthur is having his things sent in from Pomona, and they ought to be 
arriving any day now. Maybe even tomorrow. Yes, that's exactly the way to do 
it! If you and Hester happen to be unpacking and you just drop something, 
and then I come in and scold you and sentence you to a good spanking and 
take you upstairs and give it to you, after I leave, Hester will probably go 
upstairs to see you to find out what's happened. Then you can tell her all 
about it, and she can see for herself what you look like after I've punished 
you, darling. And if that doesn't set our precocious young miss to doing 
some very tall thinking, then my name's not Eleanor Hadley," the voluptuous, 
mature dominatress declared. 

"Then I'll do it, Mummy," Betty eagerly declared. "Hes is missing so much by 
keeping herself away from all of us. I know Janet and Barbara would just 
love to get to know her better, but Hes considers them all kids, and of 
course you know how she feels about their being spanked. She thinks that all 
the parents are just monsters, I guess." 

"Well, you don't think I'm that, do you, Angel? And by the way, Mummy is 
going to make it up to her precious in some very nice ways. Only, I'm 
afraid," Eleanor Hadley ruefully added, "it's got to be a very convincing 
spanking. It would be a good idea if Hester could hear it, hear the noise of 
it, and even hear you crying." 

Betty squirmed uneasily over her mother's lap at this rather ominous news. 
Still, courageous and lovingly loyal to the core, the golden-haired teenager 
at last remarked, "Gosh, Mummy, I won't have to pretend much, 'cause 
whenever you do spank me, it really hurts!" 

Both mother and daughter burst out laughing, and tenderly kissed each other. 
"I know exactly what I'll do," Eleanor Hadley said aloud as if talking out 
her thoughts, "I'll borrow Louise's leather sole. That will make quite a 
loud noise, but I'm afraid it will smart a good deal on that lovely bottom 
of yours, my darling." 

"I-I won't mind, M-Mummy, not if it makes Hes get closer to us. Then we 
could all have such a wonderful time, couldn't we?" 

"Of course we could. And it won't be long before I spank Miss Hester for the 
first time in her pampered young life, either, you may be very certain." 

"I know she needs it, Mummy. Do-do you want her to watch me when you're-when 
you're doing it to me?" 

"No, my precious. But I'll leave the door of your bedroom open so that she 
can't mistake the noises that she hears from downstairs. I'm sure that will 
be most impressive to her already impressed mind. Now then, precious, hurry 
up and get dressed and come down to breakfast. Jennie is going to fix some 
blueberry muffins and nice crisp bacon and a huge glass of orange juice for 
my little baby girl." 

Betty sighed rapturously, hugged her mother again and the two shared a long 
and final kiss, after which Betty slipped off her mother's lap and scampered 
into the bathroom. Eleanor Hadley, her eyes glowing, watched the luscious 
young adolescent in her molding pajamas, and then turned and left the room 
with a smile of anticipation on her imperious mouth.... 

The movers had come late Tuesday afternoon, and Eleanor Hadley had 
instructed them to take the crates down to the comfortably spacious basement 
of her house. It would be much too late for the girls to begin unpacking, 
because Arthur would be home for supper and she wanted her little scheme to 
take place just between herself and Betty and Hester. So, that night, when 
she and Arthur were in bed together, she out-lined to him the ingenious ruse 
she and Betty had devised for the furtherance of Hester's "orientation." 
Hester's father was overwhelmed with admiration: "You mean to say, Ellie, 
that Betty went ahead and thought up the stunt that will give you a pretext 
to spank her? And that she's quite willing to sacrifice herself in Hester's 
behalf?" 

"Of course, darling. Betty's a wonderful girl, as I think you know already. 
And of course I gave her a choice. I wouldn't have dreamed of spanking her 
unless the darling had agreed to it. That would really be unjust. And I 
promised to make it up to her." 

"And I will too," Arthur Hadley stoutly averred as he moved closer to his 
voluptuous wife, his hand caressing one of her swelling round titties, his 
lips beginning to nuzzle at her throat and chin. The voluptuous brown-haired 
matron slipped her hand between his legs and found the swelling protuberance 
of his cock and began very gently with her thumb and forefinger to pinch the 
meatus through the fly of his pajama trousers. "You know, darling," she 
murmured in a husky voice, "Betty sort of hinted around-I know she was 
fishing, the little minx-as to whether you were completely satisfied with 
her as your new daughter." 

"She did?" he excitedly asked. 

"Mmmmmhmmmm," Eleanor Hadley purred, snuggling closer and continuing the 
gently repeated squeezes of his cockhead with her slim fingers. "And I can 
assure that it's not because she's afraid you'll want to start taking over 
parental spanking privileges either, darling. 

She just hopes that you like her a lot and that you think of her as your own 
girl." 

"You can tell her for me that I think she's tops," he enthusiastically 
replied. "As far as spanking her is concerned, I'll just admit to you 
privately right now, Ellie, that I won't ever do it until you tell me I may. 
But just between us, honey, she's got the most delicious bottom and she 
inherited from the girl I've got right here in my arms right now." 

"Why, you naughty lecherous darling," Eleanor Hadley teased as she 
unbuttoned the fly to his pajama trousers and drew out his stiff throbbing 
prick. "That deserves a nice sweet reward. Now one more thing, lover-if you 
can arrange to eat out tomorrow night, it might be a good idea. That way 
you'll come back very late and after Betty has had her spanking and Hester 
has had time to get used to the idea that this is the way things go on in 
our little family." 

"Sure. I hired myself a new secretary today, by the way, Ellie. It would be 
a good time for me to do some overtime work," he jokingly retorted. 

She gave his cockhead a wicked little pinch that made him gasp. "Now you see 
here, Arthur Hadley, there'll be none of that. Not that I'm not an 
emancipated wife and will scold you too much if just once in a while you 
stray a little from the proper path. But when that hap pens, I want it to be 
with my knowing, you understand me? And I'd be much happier if it occurred 
within my own circle of friends." 

"And what do you mean by that sly innuendo?" 

"Well, for your information, lover, now that you're being gradually accepted 
as a member of the community, I happen to know that Frieda Jamison thinks 
you're quite a hunk of man," Eleanor Hadley whispered into his ear as she 
resumed her gentle pinching of his prickhead. "And so does Louise Gilmore, 
and that slinky red-haired Mabel Carruthers had already given me to 
understand that any time I want to kick you out of bed, she'll be happy to 
find a place for you in her guest room." 

"Are you serious?" he gasped, as an entirely new world of carnal pleasure 
opened up before his dazzled eyes at this unexpected avowal. 

"Uh-huh. Of course," she added thoughtfully, "I don't know how you would 
feel about my having a little fun with Fred Gilmore or Hank Jamison or Dave 
Carruthers." 

"I'll have to think about that one," he admitted, his face blushing hotly at 
the suddenly naughty thoughts that had begun to invade his mind and the 
mental pictures of the three women she had just named had begun to flit 
through his fantasy. "But first things first. Right now you've started 
something you've got to finish." 

"Yes, sir," she giggled with a show of meek surrender as she wriggled over 
onto her back, arched up her loins and whisked up her sheer nightie. 

With a groan of delight, Arthur Hadley sank down between the inviting, 
cushioning thighs and belly of his beautiful complaisant bride, and he felt 
his stiff aching ramrod deliriously press between the tightening, moist and 
warmly welcoming walls of Eleanor's voracious cunt.... 

* * * 

It was two o'clock on Wednesday afternoon. Just before lunch, Eleanor 
"Hadley had had a long telephone conversation with her best friend Louise 
Gilmore, and Hilde had come over at lunchtime to deliver a little 
tissue-wrapped box to Jennie, the Negro maid, who in turn had handed it to 
her mistress. Hester and Betty were having lunch at the kitchen table and 
Eleanor put the box to one side and then said, "Now I want both you girls to 
be very careful when you're unpacking this afternoon. Arthur tells me that 
he had the movers pack a very fine Wedgewood china set which he and his wife 
had so many years, and you are both to take special pains with it." 

"Yes, Mother," Betty demurely replied, with a straight face and gave no sign 
that she had just received her cue from her voluptuous disciplinarian 
mother. 

When the girls had gone down into the basement to begin the unpacking, 
Eleanor Hadley took the tissue-wrapped box and went slowly upstairs to her 
bedroom. Then she quickly dialed Louise Gilmore's number, and when the 
silver-blonde imperatrix answered, she at once replied, "I got it, Louise. 
Thanks much. I'll try to get it back to you by tomorrow morning. Will that 
be all right?" 

"I think so, Eleanor. Janet has been a very good girl since that rather 
severe lesson she had last week. And of course Constance is her usual sweet 
obedient self. I must say, I think your Betty is a brave little girl. She's 
never had the leather sole, has she?" 

"No," Eleanor Hadley admitted, "and I realize it's going to be something of 
a strain on her. But believe me, Louise, it's in a very worthy cause." 

"You know, Eleanor, I have the strangest feeling that my girls are somewhat 
in sympathy with your little project," Louise Gilmore laughed. "Just at 
breakfast this morning, Janet was asking me if I thought that Hester's 
watching her get punished last week had finally given your new daughter the 
notion that there is nothing wrong about grown-up girls being spanked when 
they need it. And for Janet to make an admission like that-well!" 

"You tell Janet I'm very grateful for her help. Now I'd better get back to 
my role of eavesdropper," Eleanor Hadley laughed. 

"Good luck, and let me know how it all comes out," Louise Gilmore concluded 
and then hung up. 

Down in the basement, Betty had decided to start on the crate containing the 
china set first of all, because she wanted to get the painful part of the 
"helping-out act" over with as soon as possible. Blithely, she pried open 
the top of the dish drum in which her step-father's Wedgewood set had been 
carefully packed. Then, plunging her hands down into it, she lifted up the 
first newspaper-wrapped object, which happened to be a soup tureen, removed 
the paper and set it down on the lower rectangular crate nearby. 

"Do be careful, Betty," Hester urged, looking very worried. "Father thinks a 
lot of that set. He bought it as an anniversary gift for my mother, you 
know." 

"Sure I'll be careful, Hes," Betty cheerfully promised. She picked up 
another newspaper-wrapped object, neatly unwrapped it and put down a 
beautiful sugar bowl beside the tureen. 

Hester meanwhile had very ginerly dipped her hands into the drum and picked 
up a plate which she proceeded to unwrap with meticulous care. Betty jostled 
her as the irrepressible golden-haired teenager dipped down into the drum 
for another item. This was a superb dinner plate, and Betty juggled it, 
whistling a merry tune, while Hester's eyes widened: "For Heaven's sake, 
Betty, do be careful!" 

"Think nothing of it. You never saw my juggling act, did you, Hes? I'll have 
to do it for you some time. Well, let's get on with it." With this, Betty 
bent down into the drum and picked up another plate. She hastily tore the 
newspapers from it, and then juggled it, and suddenly, glancing over her 
shouder, let it drop with a loud crash. 

"Oh, Lord! Now you've done it! Father will be very put out with you, Betty!" 
her auburn-haired stepsister frantically exclaimed. 

Eleanor Hadley had been standing on the threshold of her room, avidly 
listening. The basement door had been left open, and so she heard the crash 
distinctly. 

"What was that, girls?" she called out. 

"Gee!" Hester exclaimed nervously, "It's your mother." 

"I know," Betty giggled. "She's got awfully sharp ears. Well, no use crying 
over spilled milk. Accidents happen in the best of families." 

Eleanor Hadley had come down to the basement now. "What was that crash I 
just heard?" she accusingly demanded. 

"It-it was one of the dinner plates and Betty dropped it," Hester 
unhesitatingly averred. Betty stared at her new stepsister with a frown of 
dismay; this was tantamount to snitching, and all at once she found herself 
almost sadistically wishing that Hester had been the one to drop the plate 
instead of herself. That was hardly family loyalty, to tattle like that! 

"Is that true, Betty?" Eleanor Hadley sternly demanded. 

"I guess it is, Mother. I was just showing Hester my juggling act," the 
lovely golden-haired teenager candidly explained. 

"Well, young lady, I'm going to show you my famous juggling act too. Come 
upstairs with me this minute. As for you, Hester, please be very careful. I 
don't think I have to tell you that, since it belongs to your own father." 

"I guess it was an accident, Mrs. Hadley," Hester stammered, and Eleanor's 
eyebrows arched with surprise at this formal appellation. She too didn't 
think very much of Hester for being first to point the accusing finger at 
Betty, even if of course she knew perfectly well that all this had been 
prearranged. It revealed certain definite flaws in Hester's character which 
convinced her all the more that the precocious daughter of Arthur Hadley was 
long overdue for a sound spanking on her insolent bottom. 

"It may well have been an accident, Hester," she firmly replied, "but Betty 
absolutely disregarded my warning to both of you to unpack very carefully, 
and so now she's going to be punished for it. Come with me, young lady!" 

"Yes, Mother," Betty meekly replied and followed Eleanor Hadley out of the 
basement and up the stairs. 

Once inside her bedroom, Eleanor hugged her lovely young daughter, and 
whispered, "That was just perfect, baby! You're a wonderful brave girl, and 
I promised that I'm going to make this up to you, and I mean it. The way 
Hester hurried to let me know that you were the one who had broken that 
plate didn't set well with me at all. Now, I'm going to have to leave the 
door open so that Hester can hear." 

"I know, Mother. Do you want me to prepare?" 

"This time we'll skip the formalities, darling," Eleanor Hadley said with an 
encouraging little smile as she gave her penitent-looking golden-haired 
daughter an affectionate hug. "Just pull up your skirts and slip and get 
over my lap. I borrowed Louise Gilmore's leather sole because it makes a 
very loud noise." With this, she turned to the edge of her bed, opened the 
top of the box which Hilde had brought over, and exhibited the 
ominous-looking leather sole. Betty gulped nervously. She had had first-hand 
reports from Janet and Connie Gilmore on the efficacy of this spanking 
implement, and now that the moment had come for her act of heroism and 
self-sacrifice, she was just a little uneasy because it was new to her. 

Eleanor Hadley went on with a quick whisper: "It would be a good idea, 
darling, if you would call out a little every so often while I'm spanking 
you, so that Hester will hear." 

Betty nodded with a rueful expression: "Sure, I know, Mother." Then, 
stoically, she stooped and pulled up the hems of her skirt and slip, lofted 
them well above her lusciously rounded young hips, while Eleanor swiftly 
drew up the straight-backed chair towards the open door, seated herself and 
then beckoned for Betty to take the time-honored position across her lap. 

Betty bowed down her head and shoulders, bravely retaining hold of her 
upthrust garments, while Eleanor swiftly snugged down the little white nylon 
panties to her daughter's thighs, exposing the magnificently ripe 
pink-sheened posterior. Then, circling the girl's waist with her left arm, 
she picked up the formidable leather sole, experimentally flourished it in 
the air, and then let it down with a loud Whack! over the top of Betty's 
naked, ripely curved right bottomglobe. 

The sound was like a pistol shot, and Betty uttered a gasp of painful 
surprise, lifting her head, her eyes widening at the discovery that this was 
going to be a rather more taxing or deal than she had counted on. Eleanor 
Hadley, pausing a moment, discovered that it was also a highly effective 
punishment instrument, judging from the bright pink splotch which instantly 
sprang up on her daughter's naked flesh. "Get ready, darling," she murmured 
encouragingly, "I'll try not to take too long. And let me say this first, 
darling, Mummy is very proud of her big brave girl." 

Hardly had she finished this laudatory speech when she brought down the sole 
across the top of Betty's bare left buttock with an angry "Clack!" And the 
teenager's bare hips jerked convulsively under the noisy, stinging impact 
which at once imprinted a vivid splotch to match the one on the other globe. 

As Eleanor Hadley warmed to her task, Betty discovered that she didn't have 
to make-believe when it came to calling out. After about the fifth spank, 
which flattened against the ripest curve of her left bottomglobe, she began 
of her own pained reaction to call out, "Ooooh, Mother!" and "Aaaahh, 
Mother!" without the slightest prompting. The loud, almost indecent-sounding 
thwack of the thick, flexible leather sole against her upturned bare seat 
produced a furious stinging heat each time the instrument landed, wielded by 
Eleanor Hadley's energetic and skillful hand. It wasn't long before Betty's 
hips were swerving and wriggling, much more than when she lay passively on 
her own bed with her hands strapped ahead of her receiving the spanks of 
Eleanor's leather strap, and even her mother was surprised at the convulsive 
gyrations which her daughter's bare behind made under the descending arc of 
the instrument of castigation. She made a mental note to obtain a similar 
one for future use, because there was no gainsaying that it was highly 
effective. The bright flaming hue which it left and the very obvious 
uncomfortable heat which it generated were instantly manifested before her 
attentively watching eyes, and she found that she had to tighten her arm 
several times around Betty's supple waist and pull the squirming, uneasy, 
groaning girl back closer to her body to continue the spanking. 

Fifty times the leather sole rose and fell, and when it fell for the last 
time across both buttocks just above the base, nipping the inner edges of 
the inflamed, quaking cheeks, Betty was very distinctly crying, her soft 
little fingers twisting frantically and pulling her skirt and slip this way 
and that but always above her condemned posterior. The dark, angry 
discoloration of the lushly rounded young bottomglobes stood out in furious 
contrast to the smooth baby-pink skin of Betty's back and thighs. It was 
really a far more severe spanking than Eleanor Hadley had intended, but at 
the same time she knew that Hester downstairs must certainly have heard all 
of it in eluding Betty's cries, which towards the last twenty blows of the 
spanking had been anxious and very satisfyingly loud. 

"There, darling," she bent down to murmur placatingly to the sobbing girl, 
"Mummy hated to punish her brave girl this way. Now I want you to take your 
clothes off and lie on the bed, and I'll go down and tell Hester to come up 
and attend to you. That way, she's certain to see what's happened, and you 
can tell her all about it. In fact, it would be a good idea if you told her 
all about the binding strap and the spanking strap and the pillow that I 
generally use when you're a naughty girl." 

Betty slowly and painfully lifted herself off her mother's lap, letting her 
clothes drop, her panties falling down to her ankles, and then she hugged 
her mother in an access of tearful affection. For a long and tender moment 
they stood thus embracing, while Eleanor kissed away Betty's tears. Then the 
dominatress murmured, "All right, darling, I'll leave you now. You go back 
to your own room where you keep the spanking things, of course. That's where 
I want Hester to find you. And don't forget, Mummy is very grateful for your 
help, and she's going to remember it with a specially wonderful treat one of 
these days soon." 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Betty had hastened to her room while her mother swiftly replaced the 
borrowed leather sole in its box and put it on the top shelf of her closet, 
then went out of her room and down the stairs. As she reached the 
first-floor landing, she called down to the basement, "Hester, go upstairs 
and look after your sister, if you please. I have to go out for a little 
while." 

Meanwhile, golden-haired Betty, her eyes suspiciously red and swollen from 
tears which were in no way feigned, and gingerly holding her discarded 
panties, had gone back to her room and, leaving the door open, swiftly 
removed dress and slip and, discarding these together with her panties on a 
chair near the bed, promptly stretched herself out on her tummy, naked 
except for bra and sandals. The fiery bunting of the leather sole had 
darkened now, and her delightfully plump round young bottomcheeks were quite 
impressively inflamed. The smarting sting of the sole was, Betty decided, 
something she would just as soon dispense with in future, and she fervently 
hoped that her mother had only borrowed the implement from Louise Gilmore 
just this one time. 

Hester, trembling and very pale, ascended the stairs and made her way down 
the hall. She saw Betty's open door and then she uttered a loud gasp: "Ohh!" 

"Hi, Hes," Betty greeted her, without turning her head. "I sure can use your 
help right about now, I'll tell you that. Would you mind awfully soaking 
some cloths in cold water and putting them on my heinie?" 

"Of-of course not, Betty," Hester stammered. Her eyes fixed on those 
discolored, swollen rotundities and it looked to her as if her stepsister 
had taken a far more serious thrashing than even brunette Janet last week. A 
novice to castigation as she was, Hester Hadley could not distinguish the 
fact that the broader surface of a leather sole when wielded energetically 
as Eleanor had done covered considerably more area than a thin little rubber 
dog whip, and that its broader impact left the tender skin and flesh 
exacerbated for a considerably longer period at the outset. In a few days, 
Betty's lovely bottom would, however, be once again as pink, as the 
proverbial baby's skin, except perhaps for one or two tiny bluish splotches 
where the very oval end of the sole had wrought particularly emphatic 
castigatory vigor. 

"Hurry, please, Hes," Betty plaintively entreated, squirming uneasily on her 
tummy and glancing back at her older stepsister. "I'm just about burned up." 

Hester gulped and headed for the bathroom, where with trembling fingers she 
dampened several washcloths under the cold-water tap, wrung them out and 
then came back into the bedroom and laid them over the golden-haired 
teenager's flaming bottom. 

"Ooooh!" Betty sighed, "That's more like it! Golly, that was a real good 
one, that was!" 

"I-I know, Betty," Hester stammered, her cheeks red with embarrassment, "I 
heard it. I felt so awfully sorry-but you ought to have been more careful 
with Father's china." 

"Sure, I know. I guess once in a while I feel like horsing around. Well, my 
heinie sure paid for it, that's for certain. Put some more cloths on, Hes, 
that feels so good," Betty declared. 

Hester readily complied, feeling a kind of guiltiness now come over her at 
having not tried to placate her stepmother when the latter had so sternly 
admonished the golden-haired girl for clumsiness. "Just the same," she said 
hesitantly as she put another cold cloth on her stepsister's quivering, 
discolored posterior, "It was really cruel of her to whip you so terribly! 
It looks so sore, so swollen!" 

"I'll be all right in a little while, Hes. When this dries, you can rub some 
cold cream. It's in that pink jar on the bottom shelf of my medicine 
cabinet. Would you mind awfully?" 

"No, of course not. You poor dear! I don't care even if you did break a 
dish, that wasn't any reason to beat you like that," Hester began to feel 
strangely confused, not knowing exactly on what side her loyalty was. Since 
she had always respected and admired her father, the thought that her 
stepsister had carelessly broken one of their finest plates had at first 
made her righteously believe that Betty had punishment coming. But now, 
seeing that flaming behind and watching her almost-naked stepsister squirm 
uneasily on the bed, the auburn-haired, precocious girl found her compassion 
deeply aroused. Even more than that, subconsciously, the sensual overtones 
of this intimate conversation and the sight of her younger stepsister's 
luscious near-nudity had begun to work with telling effect on Hester's 
hitherto aloof psyche. 

"She didn't beat me cruelly, and I wish you'd stop saying things like that, 
Hes!" Betty looked 'round at the bespectacled auburn-haired girl. 

"I had it coming, that's what. And it was over real quick, and it's all 
forgotten now. Whenever Mummy, spanks me, we always make up and then it's 
forgiven. And I try hard not to make her mad because she really doesn't like 
to punish me. No parent really does, Hes." 

"How can you say that, Betty, when even at Malibu my father told me how she 
punished you for playing around with those fellows," Hester broke out. 

"Open that top drawer in my dresser, and bring out the stuff you find in 
there." 

"All right." Wonderingly, Hester walked over to the dresser, opened the 
drawer and saw the buckling strap used for Betty's wrists and the ominous, 
polished spanking strap. "Are these what you mean?" she stammeringly asked 
as she lifted them out. 

"Sure. Bring them over here." 

When Hester had complied, Betty explained, "You really mustn't feel too bad 
about it, Hes. It could have been lots worse. See, when Mummy tells me to go 
up to my room and prepare, I come up like this and take off everything 
except my bra and sandals. Sometimes I don't even wear my sandals. And I put 
out the strap to tie my wrists with alongside me and the spanking strap too. 
Then Mummy fixes my wrists real tight, sometimes behind my back but usually 
over my head so that I won't try to cover up my bottom when I'm getting it. 
Then she uses the spanking strap on my heinie. She usually puts a pillow 
under my tummy so my rear end will be a good target-boy, she doesn't miss 
anyway, no matter what position it's in," she giggled reminiscently, and 
Hester's blush deepened even more at this casual reference to punishment 
which had become so quiveringly and disturbingly emotional for her. "Then, 
after I've had my spanking, Mummy lets me wait a while before she loosens 
the strap so I can get at my bottom and rub it. I think that's almost as 
much punishment as the spanking itself, sometimes. And of course I have to 
hand her the spanking strap even after my wrists are tied. But then when 
it's over, I sit in her lap and we cuddle, and she explains why she had to 
punish me and I see why, and then we feel awfully close. Now I think I'm 
about ready for that cold cream, Hes." 

Hester Hadley stared at the buckling strap and the punishment weapon, and 
shook her head. It was beyond her how this lovely, serene, happy-go-lucky 
girl could accept punishment so stoically and dismiss it so casually. And as 
she began to rub in the cold cream into those jouncy, resilient half-moons, 
she dimly sensed that another subtle bond in the chain of family intimacy 
was being forged for her.... 

Louise Gilmore had taken Janet and Constance into her confidence and related 
to them Betty's heroic self-sacrifice for the worthy cause of pulling Hester 
Hadley down from the untouchable and elegant pedestal on which she had 
placed herself from her very first day in Claremont. Janet's admiration for 
Connie's dear friend and her own knew no bounds. And that evening, after 
supper, she determined to prove that she was of the same mettle, realizing 
that even at eighteen she had for quite some time now rebelled against her 
parents' decision to keep punishing her even though she thought herself far 
too grown-up for any such juvenile and humiliating correction. 

Accordingly, when her father was sitting in the armchair reading his 
newspaper, she went over to the radio and turned it up. He put down the 
paper and frowned and said, "Turn it down, please, Janet, you know I don't 
like rock-and-roll music." 

"But I do, Daddy," she flippantly observed as she slyly turned the knob up 
another quarter of an inch till the electric guitars of the recording blared 
furiously through the spacious Gilmore living room. 

Fred Gilmore flung down his paper, an exasperated look on his face. Then he 
walked over to his brunette daughter, took her by the earlobe and led her 
back to the armchair, flung her down across his lap, pulled up her skirt and 
slip, rucked down her brief panties to her ankles, and, tucking her in with 
his left arm, proceeded to deliver a handspanking which, to describe Janet's 
own words for it the next day when she met with Betty, "was really piping 
hot!" Janet ground her teeth and closed her eyes and bravely endured some 
forty really stinging whacks from her father's energetic hand, and when at 
last he righted her, tears were streaming down her cheeks. 

"Pull up your panties and go up to your room now, Janet," he sternly 
instructed. 

"Why-yes, D-Daddy. I-I'm sorry I made you mad," Janet sobbed as she hastened 
to obey, not without many a grimace at the way her bottom flamed and ached 
when she gingerly stooped down to retrieve the crumpled, twisted garment 
clinging around her ankles. 

But that very same evening Barbara Carruthers was unfortunate enough to have 
a falling out with both her mother and father, and all about her handsome 
suitor Tom Jeffrey, whom she had been forbidden to see. Dave and Mabel 
Carruthers had teken the family car that afternoon and gone off to visit 
Dave's second cousin in Whittier, and so Barbara had believed they wouldn't 
get back until late at night. She had gone down to the Claremont Sweet 
Shoppe in the mall for a soda, knowing that she would meet her suitor Tom 
Jeffrey, the carroty-haired, freckle-faced varsity tackle for whom she had 
experienced her first passionate crush. 

They had a double chocolate soda together in the corner of a dark booth, and 
Tom's sly fingers stroked her thigh above her skirt until, emboldened by her 
humid, ardent gaze, he dared to run his hand under her short skirt and 
tickle her soft furry pussy through the thin white nylon panties. Barbara 
moaned and squirmed, and actually had orgasm from that finger-friction, 
after which Tom nervously proposed that they take a ride in his jalopy. They 
went out to the forest preserve, and there in a shady glen, getting into the 
back seat, Barbara surrendered herself to exciting soul kissing in which 
both youngsters explored the amorous delights of twisting their tongues into 
the other's mouth and fondling wildly in their new discovery of each other. 
Tom led one of Barbara's trembling little hands towards his crotch and, 
zipping down his fly, let her take out his prick and play with it till 
suddenly he uttered a groan and spurted into her hand. Meanwhile, his other 
hand was busy foraging at the brunette's slip until once again she had a 
violent creaming. They promised to see each other on the sly when school 
began again, and Barbara sealed her troth with another passionate 
French-kiss. 

After this ardent interlude, Tom Jeffrey drove her back to within two blocks 
of the Carruthers' house and let her out. It was her dismay to see her 
father's Buick parked in the driveway. When she entered, Mabel and Dave 
Carruthers were in the living room, having just come in a few minutes 
earlier. 

"Where have you been, young lady?" her svelte, attractive auburn-haired 
mother irritatedly demanded. "We were looking around for you because Verna 
is over at a friend's house and your father and I wanted you to go to the 
store to get some things for dinner." 

Barbara had the bad fortune to blush hotly at this pointed question of her 
whereabouts, which further called her parents' attention to her. Her skirt 
was rumpled, as was her hair, and her cheeks were a most becoming red from 
the happy if forbidden adventure she had just experienced with her virile, 
forbidden young lover. 

"I-I was out with Connie Gilmore," she lied glibly, seizing the first thing 
that came into her mind, an understandable decision in view of her parents' 
irritability threshold when the topic of dicsussion concerned a steady 
boyfriend. For this was one of the real taboos in the Carruthers household. 

"I see," Mabel Carruthers tartly responded. "That's funny. Just before we 
got into town, your father and I stopped at a service station and I 
telephoned Louise Gilmore to ask her if she could come over to dinner, and 
there was only Hilda at home and she said that the girls and Tony were out 
with their mother in the shopping center buying clothes for school." 

Barbara's jaw dropped, which was a telltale admission of her falsehood. "So 
you lied to me, did you, Barbara? Now I want the truth," Mabel Carruthers 
snapped. "Where were you and with whom?" 

Caught in her own trap, Barbara broke down and confessed, tears running down 
her cheelJs, that she had just gone into town for a soda and just happened 
to meet Tom Jeffrey. She didn't have to go any further. Mabel Carruthers 
turned to her husband: "Dave, I think this calls for a little discipline on 
your part as well as mine." Then, turning back to the unhappy, 
creamy-skinned brunette, she directed: "Go upstairs to your room and take 
off everything except your bra and panties, Barbara. Your father and I will 
be up presently. And when we finish, we're going out to dinner and pick up 
Verna, but you can just stay home and fend for yourself out of the 
refrigerator to teach you not to lie and also not to do something that I've 
strictly forbidden you to do, you understand me?" 

"Yes, M-Mother," Barbara snuffled as she resignedly trudged upstairs. 

A few minutes later, she lay stretched on her bed, hiding her face in her 
hands, clad in only her pink bra and matching panties, her creamy legs bare. 
Her broadly oval, tightly spaced buttocks were tensing in nervous 
anticipation of what was to follow. Dave Carruthers had un buckled his belt 
and doubled it in his hand, as he waited for his wife to begin their naughty 
daughter's punishment. Barbara was ordered to slip her panties down to her 
kneehollows, and then lie with her hands under her so that she wouldn't be 
tempted to cover up her plump ivory naked seat. This done, her mother lost 
no time in pressing her left palm firmly down in the small of her daughter's 
back, and then administering a sound and noisy handspanking of about fifty 
stinging slaps which soon had Barbara kicking and squealing and sobbing 
promises never to disobey again. 

When the spanking was over, Mabel Carruthers took a pillow from the girl's 
bed and pursed it under her daughter's stomach, then remarked, "Your 
fathers' going to give you twenty-five swats with his belt. Barbara. And 
tomorrow morning, as soon as you get up, you're to come in your pajamas to 
my room and get an extra little dose for lying. It's something I just won't 
tolerate, young lady. Now, are you ready?" 

Barbara blubberingly and reluctantly assented, and while her mother knelt 
down on the side of the bed and pressed both hands against the girl's 
shoulders to keep her in position, Dave Carruthers took over with his belt. 
Twenty-five smacking times, the black leather belt rose in the air and then 
swept down to flatten vigorously against the upturned, crimsoned bottom 
ovals. Barbara's screams and pleas for mercy began almost at once, but they 
availed her nothing. When it was over, she lay frantically rubbing her 
bottom as she wriggled from side to side to ease the furiously burning heat 
which this dual punishment had implanted to her naked seat. And the next 
morning, tearfully, head bowed and squirming nervously as she stood before 
her mother's bed in her pretty blue satin pajamas, the young brunette heard 
herself ordered to take off her pajama pants completely and then hand her 
mother the hairbrush, after which she had to stretch out across her mother's 
lap over the bed and endure a brisk but extremely painful chastisement of 
forty hard spanks equally distributed over the still discolored oval cheeks 
of her well developed behind.... 

It was Saturday afternoon, and the weather was unseasonably warm. Betty and 
Hester Hadley were out in the garden, doing some weeding at Eleanor's tacit 
suggestion. Hester had discovered the garden hose, and mischievously decided 
to play a prank on her younger sister. Slyly she went over to the tap and 
turned it on full force, then adjusted the nozzle and pointed the hose 
squarely at Betty. Her aim was bad, and the forceful spray went off towards 
the left and against Eleanor's clothesline on which some of her summer 
dresses were airing. Betty squealed, "Look what you've done. 

Hes! What's got into you?" 

But Hester Hadley, in a newly found spirit of wanting to belong, and 
reverting to the principle of extremism in her still immature outlook on 
life in general, was not to be daunted by this warning. Instead, seeing the 
Gilmore's big shaggy springer spaniel trotting down the street minding its 
own business, she whirled and directed the hose at the dog, with unerring 
aim this time. 

"What in the world? Who's playing games with poor old Prince?" Eleanor 
Hadley's richly contralto voice vibrated from an upstairs window. 

With a guilty gulp, Hester hastily shoved the hose into Betty's hands, and 
beat a hasty retreat towards the back of the garden just as Eleanor emerged. 

"Oh it's you, Betty," she said angrily as she espied her golden-haired 
daughter in the process of turning off the spray by twisting the nozzle and 
looking very flurried. "Well, young lady, you can just march right upstairs 
and get yourself ready. The very idea, a big girl like you!" 

But at this moment, Fate intervened in the person of the jovial Negro maid 
Jennie. " 'Scuse me, Ma'am," she called from the door of the kitchen, "But 
it wasn't Betty's fault at all. I saw the whole thing, Mrs. Hadley, and it 
was that Hester who hosed that poor dog." 

Eleanor stared hard at her golden-haired daughter who lowered her eyes. Then 
the dominatress smiled tenderly. "You brave little darling!" she murmured. 
"So you were all ready to stay there and keep your mouth shut and take a 
spanking that wasn't coming to you, were you? Well, darling, at last the 
time has come for your new sister to learn her proper place in this little 
family." And then, raising her voice sternly, she called out: "Hester 
Hadley, come here this moment!" 

Hester disconcertedly disengaged herself from the shelter of a flowering 
laurel bush and came hesitantly towards her stepmother. 

"So it was you who turned the hose on Prince," Eleanor Hadley exclaimed. 
Then, suddenly catching sight of her own laundry flapping on the line and 
observing how wet it was, "And soaked my wash, too! And when I came out 
blaming Betty for it, you didn't have the gumption to admit it, did you?" 

"I-er-I was going to," Hester finished lamely. 

"I'll bet you were," Eleanor sarcastically interposed. "All right, young 
lady. I have been very patient with you all these weeks, but I can't let 
this little game of yours go by any longer. It's not fair to Betty, and it's 
certainly not fair to you either. Now then, Hester Hadley, you are going to 
march upstairs to your room, and prepare yourself. And by that I mean, 
you're going-to take off everything except your bra and panties and stretch 
out on the bed, do you understand me?" 

"But, Mrs.- Mrs.- Mrs. Hadley-" Hester stammered, growing very red in the 
face. 

"And that's another thing," Eleanor Hadley sternly continued. "It's high 
time you accepted me as your father's wife, and gave me at least the 
respectful title of 'Mother.' Imagine, calling me Mrs. Hadley! Yes, Hester, 
even though you're going to start college in another week, you're still 
extremely immature, even more so than my own sixteen-year-old youngster. Now 
march up the stairs and get yourself ready. You are going to get your first 
good sound spanking." 

"Oh-please-Mrs. H-I mean M-Motherplease wait until F-Father gets home-Can't 
we talk this out?" Hester gasped, tears welling into her dilated eyes behind 
the harlequin glasses. 

"You're going to obey me, Hester, that's what you're going to do. Your 
father and I have already discussed this, for your information, and he's 
given me full authority to proceed in the way I think best. Betty gets 
spanked whenever she's naughty, and from this day on you are going to fall 
into the same regimen. There will be no exception, young lady. If anything, 
and if you refuse to obey me now, I intend to tell your father when he comes 
home tonight and insist that after I've punished you as you deserve, he add 
to your chastisement for your mutinous behavior. Do you want that?" 

Hester Hadley wrung her hands, biting her lips, her cheeks purple with 
embarrassment. "N-no," she quavered in a very small little-girl voice. 

"Very well then. Upstairs with you, young lady. And I may say that proper 
discipline is going to help you overcome a lot of your handicaps, Hester, 
quite apart from getting along with people. Like that case of acne you've 
got, for instance. It's mostly nerves and irritability. Well, you'll be 
surprised to find out what a salutary thing a good spanking can be. Now go 
upstairs and prepare. I'll be up to see you in about fifteen minutes. And I 
want to find you ready just as I've instructed." 

Her hands on her hips, the brown-haired dominatress stared inflexibly at the 
shrinking, consternated, precocious and pampered auburn-haired girl. Betty 
watched intently, inwardly excited at this final turn of the tables which 
would impose her mother's stern justice on someone else besides herself 
after all these years. She was dying to know just how Hester was going to 
take it all, what Hester would do when she had to submit to having her 
panties pulled down and her bare heinie exposed for the spanking. How brave 
she would be when the first spanks fell, and how her mother would actually 
spank the girl. Would it be with the strap or the hairbrush or the martinet, 
Betty wondered. But of course she knew better than to ask such questions, or 
even to be allowed to witness the red-letter event-for such it was in the 
Hadley household! 

Dolefully, her shoulders shaking, her face covered with her hands, Hester 
moved towards the house, while Jennie triumphantly looked on from the 
kitchen door and nodded emphatically to her mistress, as if to assure the 
latter of her own hearty endorsement of this decree.... 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Hester Hadley slowly went up the stairs, her head drooping, tears welling to 
her eyes. They were tears of self-pity as well as shame, for she had been 
found out at last. A kind of impish impulse had motivated her to wield the 
garden hose and then a still more perverse one, to throw the blame on 
golden-haired Betty and to see Betty spanked. Hester had no way of knowing 
it, because she had never questioned her own subconscious reactions; but the 
spectacle of Janet's whipping last week and then the sight of her own 
stepsister's leather-sole-inflamed behind which with her own fingers she had 
massaged with soothing cold cream, had instilled within her a kind of 
sensual eagerness to witness more of the same and with herself as an 
impartial, immune audience. But the maid's unexpected denunciation of her 
had now cost her all of her pride and vanity, and as she ascended the stairs 
to her room, her legs trembled beneath her at the thought of what was going 
to happen. If only her stepmother had let her wait until Father came home so 
that she could present her case. But she hadn't. And the threat of being 
reported to her father just like a naughty little girl for additional 
correction was absolutely unthinkable. 

Her head was buzzing, her temples throbbing and her heart pounding loudly as 
she entered her room. She stood for a moment-in a fit of indecision before 
her mirror, staring at herself and seeing her oval face with the slantingly 
set cheekbones, the thick brows over her widely spaced blue eyes, the small 
petulant ripe mouth with its fuller upper lip, the rather dowdy and 
old-fashioned thick bun of auburn hair at the back of her head. She saw, 
too, the irritating red spots of acne on her chin and cheeks, and she 
grimaced with distaste. Now, not only would these physical flaws be observed 
by her step-to a stranger's eyes ... and worse than that, to a going to have 
to expose her most intimate person mother but for the first time in her life 
she was stranger's punishment. 

Feeling sorrier for herself by the moment, Hester at last drew off her dress 
and then her slip. Again she stared at herself in the mirror, seeing the 
voluptuous jut of her widely pear-shapted breasts with their dark cores 
pressing against the almost diaphanous white nylon bra, and the 
exceptionally thick, indeed, somewhat embarrassingly full triangle of dark 
auburn pussyhair at the crotch of her panties, the apex of her long 
elegantly contoured thighs. There was also the outline of her garterbelt, 
for she was wearing flesh-colored nylons and her sandals. With a groan, she 
put her hands behind her, tentatively appraising her buttocks which until 
this moment had never known the ignominy of chastisement. Full, firm and 
resilient, broad fleshy ovals with a gradually broadening crease between 
them. Then consternation seized her as she recalled how Betty had told her 
how Eleanor Hadley had always spanked on the bare. Oh no! She was eighteen, 
she was going to start college next week, it was unthinkable that she would 
be so humiliated and so shamed! 

She was still standing beside her bed when the door opened and Eleanor 
Hadley stood there, her face gravely composed. 

"Why aren't you on the bed as I ordered, Hester?" she calmly remarked as 
Hester turned scarlet with shame, feeling her own scantily clad 
vulnerability before this severe dominatress. Then her eyes fell on 
Eleanor's hands and she uttered a cry of stupefaction. For the brown-haired 
matron was holding the buckling strap and the spanking strap which were used 
on Betty! 

"Oh no, please don't!" Hseter babbled, clasping her long slim fingers and 
twisting them frantically as her courage quite gave way. "Don't punish me 
that way, M-Mother! I'm too old, I'm going to college next week, I didn't 
mean to-" 

"I see," Eleanor Hadley interrupted her incisively as if she hadn't even 
spoken. "Not only are you unscrupulous but you are also a coward, afraid to 
stand up and take your own medicine for something you did. You know very 
well that you were perfectly ready to let me think it was Betty who had used 
that hose and to punish her, and you wouldn't have lifted a finger-" 

"I didn't mean-" Hester tried to plead her case. 

But Eleanor Hadley would have none of it. "Don't try to talk yourself out of 
it, Hester Hadley!" she snapped. "You think you are an adult just because 
you are going to college and you are eighteen. Well, let me tell you, yuong 
lady, you're nothing but a loner, and if you continue in the way you have 
been behaving here at Claremont, then you will find yourself without any 
friends at all and thoroughly hated and despised for what you are. Now go 
lie down on your stomach on that bed at once. Do you want me to tell your 
father that you're a little coward as well as a liar?" 

At this, Hester burst into tears, and, bowing her head, slowly moved toward 
the bed. With a woebegone expression she clambered onto it and lay with her 
arms at her sides, softly sobbing. Eleanor Hadley moved briskly to assume 
her role of executioner. She placed the two straps at the head of the bed, 
lifted up one of Hester's pillows, and curtly ordered, "Lift up your hips, 
young lady, so I can slip this pillow under you!" 

"Oh please, Mother, please let me off just this once, I'll try to be better, 
I promise you I will!" Hester sobbed, turning her scarlet tearstained face 
towards her stepmother. 

"I've given you an order, Hester. If you don't want me to give you extra 
spanks, you had better obey it and be quiet." 

With a groan, Hester arched herself up, and the pillow was placed under her 
stomach. When she fell back, her shoulders shaking with her stifled sobs, 
she felt the outrageously indecent projection of her scantily clad buttocks. 

"Now, hold your arms out in front of you, the wrists together," was the next 
order. 

"Oh please don't tie me, M-Mother!" Hester wailed. "I promise I won't 
resist, but don't do it to me, I beg you! Please, I-I've never been punished 
before-please be kind to me!" 

"Everyone wants to be kind to you, Hester, if you'll only learn the lesson 
that you have to give as well as receive," was Eleanor Hadley's answer. "Now 
don't make me repeat this order. Your wrists!" 

Tears running down her cheeks, her lips trembling pitiably, the 
auburn-haired daughter of Arthur Hadley extended her arms beyond her head, 
the wrists together. Deftly, her stepmother wrapped the strong leather thong 
around them and then buckled it up tightly so that Hester's wrists were held 
as in a vise. 

The condemned young beauty turned her tearstained face towards her 
stepmother to watch with growing anxiety what would happen next. And when 
she saw Eleanor reach out towards the waistband of her panties, Hester 
uttered a piercing cry: "Oh no, not that! Oh please, Mother, let me keep 
them on! They aren't much protection, honestly they aren't! Not on the bare 
skin, I'll die of shame, Mother!' 

"Do you know, Hester, even at the age of eleven, my little girl Betty took a 
good sound thrashing worse than you're taking this before I've even touched 
you," was Eleanor's sarcastic retort. "I've given you another order, Hester, 
and I expect to be obeyed. You have your choice; either you submit of your 
own free will, or I'll have Betty come in and hold you down While I pull 
down your panties and whip your bare naughty bottom, and then I'll tell your 
father that in my opinion he should take over the job of giving you the 
discipline he spared you all these years. And in his present frame of mind, 
Hester, I might as well tell you that you need not expect any mercy from 
him. Now, for the last time, arch yourself up a little so that I can take 
your panties down for your spanking!" 

Again Hester burst into hysterical tears, bowing her head and abandoning 
herself as she slowly arched herself up. At once Eleanor's fingers moved 
under the waistband of the thin nylon sheath, and husked it down to the tops 
of Hester's thighs. Then briskly she unfastened the tabs of the garterbelt 
and, on second thought, unfastened the garterbelt itself and removed it so 
that there would not be even this scant protection from the spanking strap. 

Her eyes devoured that magnificent virgin bottom, virgin indeed to the 
stigmata of corporal punishment. The plump, yet perfectly proportioned oval 
globes twitched and contorted as Hester contracted her muscles in a 
desperate attempt to diminish their prominence. The smooth soft tawny skin 
was prickled with a thousand little fluxions like gooseflesh, and because of 
the pillow beneath her loins, the magnificent bare bottom was thrust up in 
the most lasciviously inviting way! In a word, for the first time in her 
eighteen years of arrogant and self-centered life, Hester Hadley was ready 
to be whipped. 

It was a terrible and all too real nightmare for Hester Hadley, whose 
anguished, tear-blurred eyes now followed Eleanor's every movement. She 
clenched her thighs together as she sought to make herself unattainably 
small; but when she saw Eleanor reach for the spanking strap, she uttered a 
cry: "Oh, no, don't beat me, M-M-Mother! Oh please, I can't stand pain, 
truly I can't! Please let me off, use your hand, I'm dying of shame as it 
is, Mother! Please don't hurt me with that awful strap!" 

"No, Hester," was the calm, inexorable decree, "your naughtiness this 
afternoon cannot be so lightly let off with a handspanking. However in view 
of the fact that this is your first whipping, I am going to be relatively 
lenient. I shall let you off with fifty good smacks on your naked bottom. 
Get yourself ready now, for I am going to begin." 

These words rang like the knell of doom to Hester's anguished brain. 
Desperately she tugged at her wrist strap, and tried to turn herself on one 
side, thereby exposing the thick triangle of cunthair over her plump virgin 
mount. 

"What a coward you are," Eleanor Hadley contemptuously mocked. "If you don't 
stay in position over that pillow, young lady, I'm going to call Jennie as 
well as Betty to hold you down. Would you like that?" 

"Ohh no, oh no, please!" that was a cry from Hester's very soul. 

"Very well then, but the first moment that you try to roll away and lose 
position over that pillow and don't take the full count of spanks, that is 
exactly what I shall do," the brown-haired imperatrix warningly declared. 

Hester at once plunged her face down against the single pillow left her at 
the end of the bed, closed her eyes and lay shudderingly like a royalist 
awaiting the blade of the guillotine to descend. Eleanor Hadley put her left 
palm on the small of that lovely, beautifully sculptured tawny-sheened back 
and slowly raised the spanking strap over the twitching globes. "Are you 
ready, Hester?" she demanded. 

And now the magic of corporal punishment evinced itself; this proud, 
arrogant, aloof girl who had spoken out so vehemently against the 
"barbarism" of Betty's friend's parents now humbly and meekly whimpered, 
"Y-yes, Mother, but oh please don't-don't sp-sp-spank too hard!" 

Eleanor Hadley smiled triumphantly to herself as she watched the half-naked 
young girl tense all her muscles in an instinctive defense. It would be a 
while before Hester would learn that the stoic way of relaxing one's muscles 
and accepting punishment was by far less taxing to a tender naked girlish 
bottom. But for the first lesson, there was much to be imparted. And so, 
without warning, Eleanor raised her right hand and brought the strap down 
with a wicked CRACK over the tops of Hester's naked hips. A shrill cry of 
"Ohhhh!" rose at once, as the startled girl twisted her face round to stare 
at her stepmother. The strap had left a bright pink swath in its wake over 
the huddling oval globes. And even as Eleanor raised her hand for a second 
stroke, Hester began to whimper and to cry: "Oh no-oh please, Mother-not so 
hard-it hurts so-oh please I'll be good, I promise I'll be good!" 

Yes, indeed the magic of the whip had entered this room and permeated the 
psyche of this rebellious "loner"! Hester did not know it, but in her 
infantile words of protest and pleading, she was echoing the age-old plaints 
of every girl who has ever been whipped since the dawn of time. 

SMACK, the strap bit down wickedly, about an inch below the first mark, 
bridging both globes. Under it Hester wriggled and then kicked her 
stockinged legs as she uttered another wild cry of pain and shame: "Eeyeoww! 
Oh, Mother, please, it hurts terribly, I'll never do it again, Mother!" 

By the time Eleanor Hadley had reached the tenth spank which cut with a 
sonorous impact across the lower summit of her stepdaughter's squirming 
reddening behind, Hester was dissolved in tears. She continued to jerk at 
her strapped wrists, and made the evasive maneuver of trying to twist over 
to one side to protect her bottom from the uplifted instrument of 
castigation. 

But Eleanor's left palm pinned her down like a worm to the bed, and 
Eleanor's calm and mockingly contemptuous voice served to remind the 
sufferer that she had hardly earned mercy or leniency in the cowardly way 
she was enduring the first punishment: "Will you hold still, young lady? Do 
you want me to call Jennie?" SMACK! "I have never seen in all my life a big 
grown-up girl like you behaving like such a baby, and that's a fact." CRACK 
"Try that again, Hester, and I will call Jennie and Betty too, you've been 
warned!" SMACK! CRACK! "You can cry all you like, just keep in position, 
young lady, remember that!" WHACK! 

By the twenty-fifth spank, Hester's tawny-skinned bare bottom was blazing 
with horizontal stripes from top to base, not an inch of untouched skin 
remaining, so dexterously and skillfully had Eleanor Hadley's hand wielded 
the punishment instrument. Her legs crossed and uncrossed, rubbing together 
frantically; then one would kick up and lower and then the other the same, 
while she twisted and turned like an eel over the pillow. But Eleanor 
continued to maintain her as she would a little child who was rebelling 
against authority, and the admixture of that sternly pressing palm and 
Eleanor's scathingly taunting words proved to be the very method by which 
Hester was subjugated to endure what had long been overdue. 

"There," her stepmother commented after the twenty-fifth smack had bitten 
home against the tender curves of both jouncy bottomsummits, "that's 
twenty-five. Now you may have two minutes to rest before I give you the 
second part of your punishment, Hester." 

"Ohh-M-M-Mother-oh how my poor bb-bottom hurts-oh please, I'll be so good, 
oh do let me off, so good, I swear I will, Mother, please don't spank me any 
more with that horrible strap! My bb-bottom's raw, Mother, truly it is! 
Please have mercy oh me, please!" 

"No Hester, I have never yet let Betty talk me out of decreasing her quota 
of punishment by so much as one spank, so you can hardly imagine that you 
will be successful in that attempt. But I will do this for you, if you 
promise to take the rest of your spanking more bravely and less noisily than 
you did the first time. I won't tell your father when he comes home tonight 
that you've been spanked." 

"Ohhh!" Hester groaned. In her anguish and shame and now pain, she had quite 
forgotten the posibility of having this monstrous and degrading experience 
revealed to her own father. "Oh no, you mustn't tell him, M-M Mother! I 
would just die, I couldn't stand it!" 

"Very well then, young lady. Just don't resist so much and stop trying to 
roll away. Now, your two minutes are up. Are you ready for the rest of your 
spanking?" 

And once again the magic of the whip had thoroughly conquered this unruly 
selfish and self-centered young woman. Bowing her head, her shoulders 
shaking with sobs, squirming uneasily to find a less onerous place in which 
to endure her castigation, Hester murmured a faint "Y-yes, Mother." 

She tried valiantly to suppress her cries and frantic squirmings and 
thrashings as the strap began to fall again. Eleanor Hadley noticed this and 
credited her for it, whether she knew it or not. Nonetheless, the beautiful 
disciplinarian did not leave off sermonizing her stepdaughter as she brought 
the strap down, this time all in vertical swipes that lodged their entire 
burning kiss over one bottomcheek rather than both; and often with her left 
hand she would grasp the edge of Hester's squirming hips and pull the girl 
back into position over the pillow, warning her briefly that another 
flagrant attempt to escape would mean a call for Jennie and Betty. 

Hester's bottom was furiously discolored, and it was obvious to her 
stepmother that the girl's skin was quite sensitive, perhaps even more than 
Betty's. By the time the fiftieth lash fell over the swollen posterior, 
drawing a final shriek and then a series of hysterical sobs from the weeping 
girl, the crisscrossing pattern of welts blazed in both bright and somber 
hue, the earlier spanks receding and paling, and letting the fresher blows 
stand out in superimposed crimson fury over the jutting naked bottom. 

"There!" Eleanor Hadley panted as she lowered the strap for the last time. 
"I'm going to send Betty up to you in a few minutes while you rest here. And 
I'll keep my promise I shan't tell your father. Betty will come up in about 
twenty minutes to untie your wrists and and to put cold water and cold ream 
on your bottom." 

"Ohhh-ohhh-oh it hurts-oh M-Mother, I won't ever do it again-I'm so 
ashamed," Hester wept. 

Eleanor Hadley walked over the head of the bed, bent down and putting her 
right hand under the girl's trembling chin, lifted up Hester's contorted, 
tearbathed face. "One of these days, my dear," she said tenderly, "you'll be 
a very good girl. I can see changes already for the better, now give me the 
kiss of peace. I'm pleased with you in the main, my dear. For a first time, 
you took a rather severe spanking reasonably well, and you'll be amazed how 
much better you'll feel by the time dinner is served." 

The dominatress was not surprised when the girl impulsively and passionately 
kissed her on the mouth with a groan and a sigh. For she too knew the magic 
of the whip and how it could overcome the most recalcitrant and rebellious 
nature. Also how it could unleash, or, in the case of Hester, waken for the 
first time new carnal longings. For the way Hester was squirming over the 
pillow was not entirely due to the girl's trying to disperse the heat from 
her swollen bottom. She was pussy rubbing to distract herself and to taste 
the secret thrill of masturbation as a solace to the pangs of her 
well-thrashed bottom. 

And so, when Betty came up about twenty minutes later, she found Hester 
weeping softly, her pillow-arched bottom blazing and smarting, but if she 
had examined the surface of that pillow, she would have found it 
suspiciously moist. For, just as Eleanor had suspected, Hester had relieved 
the anguish and tension and pain of the spanking-as soon as Betty's mother 
had left the room-by rubbing herself off to climax. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

Hester was able to come down to dinner that evening, and she had soaked her 
face in enough cold water and used Murine in her eyes so as to hide much of 
the telltale puffiness and redness. Eleanor had thoughtfully placed a soft 
cushion on Hester's chair, and she had kept her word; she didn't breathe a 
word to Arthur when he seated himself at the dinner table. 

However, when the two girls had finally gone to bed and Eleanor and Arthur 
were alone in their own bedroom, Hester's father turned to his beautiful 
brown-haired wife and said, "I have the feeling that Hester met her Waterloo 
this afternoon. Am I right?" 

"Darling," Eleanor laughed softly as she came towards him in her filmy 
nightgown, "I really promised the girl I wouldn't sad a word about it." 

"Okay, then don't, just let me guess. You can nod your head and confirm my 
suspicions, can't you?" 

She gave him a saucy wink and then nodded. 

"Good! Now, did I guess right when I thought after the first look I gave 
Hester at the dinner table tonight, that she had got a good sound spanking?" 

Eleanor nodded. 

"Great! And I'm also sure that I am guessing right when I say that you 
spanked her every bit as hard as you would Betty!" 

Again Eleanor nodded. 

"But I'll bet she took some handling," Arthur chuckled with a wink of his 
own. "I'll bet you had to threaten her with my taking a hand if she didn't 
submit. I'll bet I'm right about that too?" 

Eleanor Hadley nodded again. Then she circled him with her arms and rubbed 
her cunt against his crotch. "And that's enough guessing, young man." she 
murmured. "Let's do something about our own emotional life. I made her a 
promise and I'm going to keep it and that's all I'm going to tell you. If 
you feel like spanking me because of that, go right ahead." 

"You know, you've just given me a wonderful idea," Arthur Hadley murmured 
thickly as his hands began to squeeze and massage Eleanor's voluptuous 
buttocks. "Come here, young lady!" 

He took her by the hand and led her to a armchair. Eleanor began to be very 
frightened, her eyes very wide, her mouth open. But the agitated rise and 
fall of her juicy breasts indicated that she was far from being as 
apprehensive as she feigned. Over his lap she went, and with his own 
trembling hands he lifted her nightie over her hips, disclosing the 
temptingly upthrust hillocks of her milky bottom. He put his left palm on 
the small of her back, and his right palm hesitantly glided over the warm, 
quivering naked flesh. 

"I can see I'm in the hands of a novice," Eleanor whispered, her cunt 
already moistenening.... 

When Hester came home that Friday afternoon from college, she had the 
misfortune to be smitten with another impulse at horseplay with her younger 
stepsister. Upstairs in Betty's room, that golden-haired miss was 
straightening her bed when Hester slipped up behind her and smacked her 
soundly on her bottom. Whirling around with a cry, Betty pushed Hester and 
Hester pushed her back, and the next thing they knew they were swinging at 
each other with pillows. 

They grew so vehement and enthusiastic over this new sport, that the 
pillowslips were torn and the stuffings flying all over the room when 
suddenly the cold voice of reason and retribution broke in upon their game: 
"Well, now, is this the way a college student and a senior high-school girl 
behave?" 

Hester and Betty gulped, turned and stared at Eleanor Hadley. It was all the 
latter could do to keep from showing them a twinkle in her eyes, as she 
pursued: "I see that both of you are to blame, so both of you will come to 
my room at once." 

"Yes, Mother," Hester stammered, and then, taking a deep breath, she added, 
"It was really my fault-I started it, Mother-I came in here and slapped her. 
I think I'm the one that ought to be punished not Betty." 

Eleanor Hadley really did smile then and her eyes twinkled. "Good for you, 
dear," she said gently. "I'll take full consideration of that. But just the 
same, Betty is big enough and old enough by now to know that those pillow 
slips are very expensive and they weren't made to be ripped apart like that. 
Come along now, Betty, just because Hester is big enough to forgive you 
doesn't mean that I shall." 

"I know, Mother," Betty giggled and then put her arm impulsively around 
Hester's waist, "I just thought that maybe-Mother, could you spank us both 
at the same time, Hes and me? I think we could both stand it a lot easier if 
you would." 

And so, a few moments later, both Hester and Betty lay on Eleanor's bed, 
side by side holding hands, clad only in their bras, their panties drawn to 
their knees, with the door thoughtfully closed, while Eleanor Hadley applied 
the strap first to Hester's tawny-skinned bottom then to Betty's 
pink-sheened plumper one. 

She gave each of them twenty-five strokes, and both girls were crying softly 
by the time the last lash fell over their quivering naked reddened 
posteriors. 

"Now, my dears, my own daughters," she said tenderly, "come over to me, each 
of you, and give me the kiss of peace." 

They scrambled down from the bed, and, still holding hands as they had done 
during their punishment, walked towards Eleanor in the straight-backed 
chair. And it was Hester who, forgetting entirely she was a college student 
and all of eighteen, first plumped herself down on Eleanor's lap and without 
the least self-consciousness over her almost nakedness flung her arms around 
the dominatress's neck and kissed her and hugged her passionately. 

And these were truly happy tears! 

Later, that scene caused Betty a problem. Since Hester at eighteen had in 
such remarkably short order accepted the ignominy of corporal discipline and 
even displayed affectionate submission towards Eleanor's application of it, 
she in turn should display the same fortitude when it came to submitting to 
a father's correctional demonstration which would signify his full 
acceptance of her as a daughter on the same terms as his own, Hester. 

And so, during the last week of October, Betty mulled this problem over in 
her mind and at last decided to make a gesture of heroic self-sacrifice, not 
unlike the one in which she had willingly tendered her bare soft bottom to 
the wicked, noisy sting of Louise Gilmore's leather sole for the purpose of 
involving her stepsister in the emotional crisis of compassion and 
solicitude which follow a sound spanking. 

Timidly and blushingly, she broached this idea first to her own mother on a 
Thursday evening while Arthur Hadley and Hester were out shopping at the 
supermart in the mall, knocking hesitantly at her mother's bedroom door as 
the latter was enjoying the leisure of a cigarette and a new 
Book-of-the-Month-Club novel while lounging on her bed in her green satin 
negligee. 

"Come in, baby." Eleanor laid down her book, put her cigarette on the 
ashtray beside the bed, and beckoned to her daughter. "Something on your 
mind?" 

"Uh huh, M-Mother." 

"Fine. I've wanted to have a little chat with my precious too. First, I'm 
just delighted as I can be over the way you and Hester are get ting along. 
Things are going so much more smoothly, don't you feel that too, baby?" 

Betty had seated herself on the edge of the bed, her face serious, eyes 
downcast. "Uh-uh huh, sure, Mother. I-I do like Hes lots, now she's not so 
stuckup. And she seems to have lots of friends over at college, doesn't 
she?" 

"Of course. It just needed a little doing, that was all. Someone to show her 
she belonged, baby." 

"And she-well, that time we were horsing around with the pillows, Mother-she 
was real brave about speaking up and saying I wasn't the naughty one, wasn't 
she?" 

Eleanor reached up, cupped Betty's chin and lifted the girl's rosy face, 
stared at her levelly, a tender smile on her lips: "What's really on your 
mind, sweetheart? You can trust me, you know." 

"Well, it's-you know, when you told me at Malibu you were going to marry 
Uncle Arthur, I was sort of scared. You know, mother." 

Eleanor tried to keep from smiling. "Yes, I do, baby. You thought maybe he 
was going to start right in paddling you when you were naughty, didn't you?" 

Now the girl's blushes were furious and she lowered her eyes: "Uh h-huh. I-I 
think I ought to start calling him 'Daddy'-that is, if you don't think he'd 
mind, Mummy?" 

"Of course not, my precious!" Eleanor drew Betty to her, cuddled her and 
kised her lovingly. "He'd like nothing better, I can tell you that." 

"And maybe-well, I was thinking-" Betty quavered, then hesitated. 

"Yes, precious?" Eleanor patted her daughter's blushing cheek 
affectionately. 

"Well, if-if he is to be my father, well, then, I mean, maybe he ought to-to 
p-punish me the next time I-I'm naughty, M-Mummy. That way, he'll know I-I 
want him to be my daddy. Do you think that's so, M-Mummy?" 

"You know something, precious?" Eleanor's voice was husky with love as she 
drew the quivering, blushing young blonde to her bosom and tenderly kissed 
the top of that lovely golden head, "I think you've grown up an awful lot 
ever since Malibu, that's what I think. And now, you know something else? I 
feel sort of hungry, even after the nice supper we had. Seems to me there's 
still a pint of that peach ice cream in the refrig. Why don't you go down 
and get it and we'll split it, over a piece of that fresh pound cake Jennie 
baked?" 

"Ohh, Mummy, I just love you so!" Betty gasped, her eyes misty, as she 
hugged and kissed the brown-haired dominatress, then hurried from the 
room.... 

Having thus courageously decided to brook her new father's wrath and submit 
herself to the as yet unknown quantity of his castigatory retaliation, Betty 
also decided to take Hester into her confidence. "You have to promise on 
your honor yqu won't say a word to Unc-I mean, D-Daddy," she stammered. 

"Why, of course I won't, Betty honey." Hester was staring at herself in the 
mirror over her dresser, and this time with pleasure. The acne which had 
plagued her for so long was beginning to disappear. Maybe it was having 
friends and being accepted by others, she thought to herself. Maybe-then she 
blushed as the new thought came to her-maybe it was just as Mother had said, 
spankings would help clear up her complexion by ridding her of her mixed-up 
emotions and fears and holding back of herself. 

"All right then," Betty declared with a sudden bravado. "I-I'm going to make 
Daddy spank me, that's what." 

"You're what, Betty?" Hester gasped, wide-eyed. 

"Uh huh!" Betty couldn't help blushing furiously all over again, but she 
held her head high and went right on, quickly, before her courage ran out: 
"You see, Hes, I figure that it was an awful problem for you to accept being 
punished when you were naughty, specially as you'd never been before, and it 
was worse because it was Mother instead of Daddy who did it. Well, if you 
could take it-and you did that time we played around with the pillows-then I 
figure I can too. And I want your father to be mine too-oh, shucks, Hes, you 
know what I'm trying to say!" 

"Sure I do, Betty!" Hester smiled eagerly as she went to give her younger 
stepsister a big hug and kiss, "and I think you're absolutely aces! I mean, 
you're the nicest sister a girl could ever have." 

"Then you won't breathe a word to him? I mean, I-well, I've got to think up 
something naughty to do-not too naughty, 'course, 'cause I know Mother 
wouldn't like that at all. And-and I want to do it as soon as I can so I can 
have it over with and then we can all be one family-you know what I mean!" 
Betty finished breathlessly. When she left Hester's room the auburn-haired 
girl, who had begun to comb out her hair and wore it in an attractive 
pageboy instead of the former dowdy bun, stared after her thoughtfully for a 
long moment. Then she giggled and said to herself, "Well, Hes, you're not 
going to let your younger sister show you up, are you?" 

* * * 

It was Friday evening, and Arthur Hadley was in the living room with a stack 
of typed pages on the table beside him, going over the reports he had 
dictated to his secretary. Next week, he'd told Eleanor at the dinner table, 
he was going to be in Ventura to work out an efficiency program for a marine 
building firm, the first really lucrative contract that had come his way 
since he had opened his own office when moving to Claremont. Eleanor was on 
the couch, knitting a sweater for Hester, glancing at her handsome husband 
every so often with love and pride. Hester and Betty were out in the 
kitchen, having insisted on helping Jennie with the dishes. 

All of a sudden there was a crash, followed by a girlish giggle, and then a 
second crash, followed by Jennie's excited cry: "Now I tol' you two gals not 
to play games with demdere dishes, now you jist see wut you's done, you 
two!" 

"What in the world?' Eleanor exclaimed as she laid down the sweater and 
rose. "Arthur, did you hear that?" 

"I certainly did!" He took off his reading glasses, laid down the report 
he'd been reading, and got. up from his comfortable armchair. "We better 
investigate, I'd say." 

When the two reached the kitchen, Jennie was wringing her hands and shaking 
her head in dismay while Hester and Betty stood side by side, serenely 
composed. On the floor lay the shattered remains of two dinner plates and a 
cup and saucer. 

"What happened?" Eleanor demanded. "Oh my-my best plates, too! How could you 
girls have been so careless?' 

"They wuz playing wut dey called a jugglin' game, Miz Hadley," Jennie 
indignantly spoke up, wanting to assure her employers that she had had no 
hand in this disaster. 

"I broke the plates, Daddy," Betty turned to face her stepfather, wide-eyed 
innocence and a sweet smile registered on her lovely heart-shaped face. 

"And I broke the cup and saucer, Mother," Hester spoke up, not to be 
outdone. 

"I think, young lady," Eleanor stared hard at her guileless-looking blonde 
daughter, "you were the ringleader in this disgraceful little stunt. Up to 
bed with you and prepare at once! And you, Hester, you're certainly old 
enough not to encourage your sister!" 

"I wanted to juggle too, Mother," Hester blithely retorted with a saucy tilt 
of her head. 

"Did you now, Hester?" Her father irascibly glowered at her. "Well, young 
lady, since you've already discovered what a spanking is like, let's just 
see if another one will make you less flippant. Up to your room this 
minute!" 

Eleanor glanced at her husband and imperceptibly shook her head. But before 
he could catch on, Betty spoke up valiantly: "Daddy, II think you ought to 
give me my spanking this time instead of Mother. After all, those plates 
were part of the set you had shipped here, weren't they?" 

"Come to think of it, you're right, young lady," he exclaimed. "So you want 
me to spank you, do you, Betty?" 

"Y-yes, D-Daddy." 

"I may as well tell you in advance, Betty, that I agree with your mother's 
methods, and you needn't expect leniency from me. Is that understood?" 

"Uh-huh, D-Daddy," Betty stammered, her cheeks a becoming crimson with 
blushes of emotion. 

"Very well then, come with me, Betty," Arthur Hadley sternly decided, and 
grasped Betty by the wrist and led her back into the living room. Hester 
faced her stepmother bravely: "You'll be the one to punish me then, won't 
you, Mother?" she asked. 

"Correct! Jennie, get me the martinet from the pantry. Since you're expected 
to set your sister a good example, Hester, a simple handspanking will hardly 
suffice. Thank you, Jennie," this as the colored maid handed Eleanor the 
multiple-thonged little whip with its short wooden handle. "All right, 
Hester, into the living room with you at once, young lady!" 

Hester, head bravely held high, preceded her stepmother into the living 
room. There she saw Arthur Hadley already seated on the couch, golden-haired 
Betty draped across his lap, pillowing her head in her folded arms, her 
skirt and nylon petticoat trussed well above her waist, and her filmy white 
panties trussed down to her nylon-sheathed calves, in the act of tucking in 
her waist with his left arm. 

"Wait a bit, Arthur," Eleanor smilingly interposed, "let's spank the girls 
together, so they'll feel they're sharing the penalty for their simultaneous 
misdeeds. Hester, kneel down on that armchair, pull up your skirt and slip, 
bend well over the back of the chair!" 

"Y-yes, Mother!" The auburn-haired girl did not hesitate as she moved to the 
armchair, pull up your skirt and slip, bend well over the back of the 
chair!" 

"Y-yes, Mother!" The auburn-haired girl did not hesitate as she moved to the 
armchair, pulling up her clothes as she approached; she dutifully knelt 
down, leaned over the back as Eleanor, the martinet tucked under her left 
arm, approached and ordered, "You hold up your clothes during the spanking, 
Hester! And take care not to let them fall back down over your naughty 
bottom unless you want ten extra spanks!" 

"I-I win, Mother," Hester sighed, a little uneasy now that the moment of 
truth was at hand, for the martinet was ominously new to her. 

Deftly Eleanor tugged down Hester's panties to the girl's knees, exposing 
the plump, twitching and contracting tawny-sheened ovals of that well 
developed, voluptuous naked behind; then, taking the martinet in her right 
hand, she stationed herself to the penitent's left, and, glancing over at 
her husband, exclaimed, "Now, then, Arthur!" 

Instantly, Arthur Hadley's right palm fell with a sonorous smack on the 
upturned right bottomsummit of his young golden-haired stepdaughter's naked 
behind. Betty raised her head, her blue eyes widening with surprise at the 
emphatic sting of this very first spank. And she began to tell herself that 
from now on, this was the very last spanking from him she was going to go 
out of her way to get. 

At the same moment, Eleanor Hadley swept the leather thongs of the martinet 
solidly across the plumpest, most temptingly jutting curves of Hester's 
naked posterior, and the whistling smack drew a startled gasp from the 
auburn-haired culprit, who squirmed on her knees, and glanced apprehensively 
round at her beautiful executioner. 

Smack! Arthur Hadley's castigating palm flattened over the jouncy summit of 
Betty's left bottomcheek. "Oooohh, Daddy!" Betty gasped, surprised at her 
own lack of stoicism this early in the chastisement. Two bright pink 
outlines of his hand had at once risen, superimposing over the smooth soft 
babypink tint of the blonde culprit's naked seat. 

Hisss-thuckkk! The martinet's thongs serpentined through the air, clingg 
avidly to the lower summits of Hester's shivering naked be hind. The 
auburn-haired girl gasped, "Ohh, M-Mother!", looked round nervously, then 
squirmed feverishly on her knees, her fingers clutching her uptrussed 
garments still higher. The vivid streaks left by the thongs stood out 
lasciviously on the pale tawny sheen of her twitching naked hindquarters. 

And thus in the Hadley living room, Betty and Hester shared a sisterly 
spanking as part of the secret, warmhearted pact the two girls had made; for 
when Betty had whispered out in the kitchen that she meant to break a dish 
or two and get Hester's father to inflict her first spanking as his new 
daughter, Hester, not to be outdone, purposely smashed the cup and saucer to 
offer herself up as a willing martyr to her new mother's loving 
chastisement--- When it was over, Betty was kicking and sobbing, begging her 
father to stop, avowing with a fervent sincerity that could not be 
questioned that she would never be careless again. Fifty good spanks had 
left her tender round bottomglobes a blazing scarlet, and as he drew her 
panties up over her inflamed posterior and slowly righted her on her 
feet-and kissed her, he murmured, "I'm sorry I spanked so hard, honey." But 
Betty flung her arms round his neck and in an outburst of love and furiously 
roused, subtle girlish passion, sobbingly declared, "I deserved it, Daddy, I 
was awfully naughty! Th-thank you for-for spanking me so good, and I won't 
ever do it again, honest!" 

A similar tender scene of reconciliation was taking place as Hester, her 
bottom and thighs striped by fifty expertly applied strokes of the little 
martinet, gingerly eased herself down from the chair, to have her panties 
pulled up by her smiling, misty eyed stepmother-who had divined Hester's 
heroic act of self-sacrifice-and to be tenderly hugged and kissed and gently 
scolded over being so careless.... 

Not long afterwards, Arthur and Eleanor lay entwined, his cock buried to the 
hilt inside her pulsating quim, their tongues flicking in the sweet duel of 
carnal conclave, and he panted, "You know, Ellie, I've a hunch your daughter 
broke those plates on purpose." 

"Umm hmmmm-and you know something else, lover? Your daughter did the same 
with that cup and saucer." 

"Well, well," Arthur Hadley mused, "if anyone would have told me six months 
ago that Hester would willingly go out of her way to get a bare-bottom 
tanning, I'd have considered him a candidate for the looney bin." 

"And if anyone had told me that my sober sides of a husband would have got 
such a kick out of spanking my poor little darling Betty's bare seat, I'd 
have laughed in his face." Eleanor slyly whispered as she insistently 
squirmed under him. "Ohh, honey, I know it made you randy-take it out on 
me-give it all to me-oh, Arthur lover-don't spare me, fuck me good and 
hard-ohh darling!" 

And in Hester's room, the door locked as a precaution, Betty and Hester lay 
in bed together in the darkness, kissing and cuddling, having each soothed 
the other's burning, inflamed seat with cold compresses and cold cream. And 
out of that unison which was brought about by happy tears, perhaps it was 
not at all surprising that the golden-haired and the auburn-haired 
"sacrificial spankees" should seek an even more intimate solace with 
questing fingers and soon, the shivering, frictioning warm satin of their 
eager naked bodies. 

But that, of course, is another story! 


THE END
