by Nigel McParr
"Are you two old enough to be in this place?"
The cocktail waitress, an older woman squeezed into an outrageously low-cut outfit two sizes too small for her, peered through the smoky darkness at the two girls sitting in a corner booth of the Chatter Box lounge.
"I want to see some ID right now. You both look like you're barely out of diapers."
Debbie giggled and blushed while she dug into her purse and produced a driver's license for the waitress. Ann waited until the waitress had examined Debbie's and then turned over her license. The waitress made a big deal of checking the birth dates on both licenses before she finally returned them to the girls.
"Alright," she said. "You're legal but if I caught my daughters in a place like this, they wouldn't sit for a week!" She took their drink orders and left.
Anne tried not to laugh as she looked at Debbie and said, "If our moms knew we were here we wouldn't sit for a week either."
They were still laughing when the waitress returned with their sloe gin fizzes. She gave them a long disapproving look before disappearing into the semi-darkness. At first they only took tentative sips through their glitter-covered drink straws. But as the cloyingly sweet carbonated beverage warmed their bellies, the girls drank faster and began to think about ordering another.
"I'm so glad you're here, Anne. I've been bored out of my skull. Will you and Aunt Lydia being staying the week?"
"At least. Mom said she wants to do some shopping at the new Super Mall with Aunt Blanche."
The conversation turned to college in the fall, prospective majors and what it must be like to live in a dorm in big city with fifty other females. Both of them were excited and yet afraid of college. they lived in small towns and neither girl had ever been away from home for more than a week or two. Luther College for Women would be a brand new experience.
"God, I hope I'm up to making the Dean's List. You know how our mothers are." Debbie nodded and bent her head close to Anne's. "Gracie told me the Dean at Luther keeps a strap in her desk for her so-called under achievers."
Anne's eyes widened. "I heard the same thing. But you know how rumors get started and then grow into horrible stories. Anyway, college is three months off. We've got the whole summer ahead of us. Let's make the most of it." She beckoned to the waitress as she hurried by with a tray full of drinks. With a wicked smile on her face Anne slowly unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse. She arranged her open neckline to expose her plump cleavage.
Debbie looked askance at her cousin. "Anne what are doing? We've never been in a place like this - you never know what might happen." While Anne smiled reassuringly at her, Debbie felt the first deliciously naughty thrill shoot through her. Suddenly she felt too felt all warm and liquid inside. She opened her blouse in a vain attempt to show off her small bosom.
Anne put her hand on her cousin's arm. "That's much better." The waitress stopped at their table. The girls ignored the incredulous look she gave them. Anne raised her empty glass and said, "Would you please bring us another?" The waitress bent over them, resting her hands on their table. She was showing a stunning display of cleavage that neither girl could ignore. As she spoke her heavy breasts rose and fell within the rigid constraints of her low cut top.
"Listen, you two. I'm going to serve you one more drink and then you're going to leave. Look at you: tops open, too much makeup. You look like a couple of over-rouged junior tarts. Why I ought to turn you both over my knee."
After the waitress left, Debbie began to giggle, then laugh until tears were streaming down her cheeks. "Migod, Anne," she gasped. "I thought she was going to fall out of her top!" She leaned forward and gestured at her own bosom as if she were falling out of her bra. Anne began to laugh too which made the waitress angrier than ever when she brought the girls their final round.
By the time the girls had finished their second drink
they were on their way. They knew the waitress wouldn't serve them again
so Debbie, who knew the area, came up with a new plan. It was still early,
and they weren't supposed to be home until eleven. There was a disco down
the street. Anne said she was ready to do some serious dancing. She grabbed
her cousin and they walked arm-in-arm out of the bar and down the street
to the disco. They spotted two cute boys almost immediately.
While the girls were dancing at the disco with their new boyfriends, Lydia and Blanche were playing cards in Blanche's kitchen. There wasn't much conversation. The only sounds were the snap of the cards on the table and the steady tick of the antique grandfather clock in the hall. Lydia played her last card as the clock tolled eleven. She glanced across the table at her sister.
"Eleven O'clock. And no girls. Do you suspect what I suspect?"
Blanche ignored her for a moment as she laid down her remaining cards and totalled up her score. Her lips moved silently as she counted her score and noted it on a small tablet next to her. She finally looked up and said, "You won. And yes, I do suspect the girls are up to no good. Eighteen and just out of high school, I bet they're in a bar."
"Should we call around? I mean they might be in trouble."
Blanche smiled at her sister. "Its hard to get in trouble in a town this size. Besides Debbie knows her way around and everybody knows her as well. I'm sure they're okay which is more than I can say for them when they return. Coffee?"
"I'd love a fresh cup."
As Blanche got up to make the coffee, her sister noted she still had a pretty decent shape. Her plain house dress could barely conceal the fullness of her breasts and the smooth curve of her hip as she moved about her kitchen. Both women were tall and still quite attractive. Though they'd both gained weight since bearing their children, the ensuing years had been kind to them. Blanche turned away from the counter to face her sister. She was holding the coffee can in her hand.
"Did you bring your strap?"
Lydia said, "I did. Have I ever not brought it? Its upstairs in my suitcase. But what do you think of this?"
Lydia picked up her bulky black leather purse and drew out a shiny leather-covered paddle. She gave it to Blanche. Blanche examined it closely, smacking it hard against her hip.
"Just like mother used to use," she murmured softly. "Wherever did you find it?"
"My neighbor. She'd used it for years on her family. Said it worked wonders. Now that they're gone, she's willed it to me. Anne doesn't know I have it. She's going to be in for a rude awakening."
Blanche reluctantly returned the slick paddle to her sister. "I wonder if I could find one of my own."
"Perhaps we can find another. In the meantime
why not introduce Debbie to it tonight? She deserves it as much as Anne."
It was almost two AM when Anne and Debbie finally came home. Their mothers were waiting for them in the living room. A single table lamp threw a soft pool of light onto the carpet, barely illuminating the area where the two women sat. A Beethoven piano concerto was playing softly in the background. The clump of the girls' feet on the porch and their suppressed giggles preceded them into the house. They'd already forgotten about the small dent Debbie had put in the fender of the family car after they left the disco.
The girls were in complete disarray. Anne's blouse was pulled out of her jeans and half-opened down the front. Her hair was a mess and her face was flushed. She swayed slightly when she saw her mother sitting quietly on the sofa waiting for her. A silly grin spread over her face as she squinted to make out the black object in her mother's hand. She stopped short of entering the living room. It took all of her concentration just to stay on her feet.
Debbie didn't look much better although she had thought to button her blouse before she got out of the car. Her chestnut hair was tangled, several strands dangled over her eyes which resembled two sun-dried raisins. She was concentrating on maintaining her balance when she felt herself going into a spin. She mumbled an incoherent excuse and ran up the stairs to the bathroom. Blanche didn't say a word to her daughter as she ran out of the room. Lydia took her daughter, who seemed to be faring a bit better, over to the big maroon-covered, wing-back chair and patiently began to undress her.
She removed her daughter's soiled blouse and jeans with disdain and dropped them in a heap on the floor. Standing next to the chair in her bra and panties, Anne shivered and made several futile attempts to cover her over-ripe breasts and thighs. Her mother cracked the girl hard on her backside and told her it was far too late to start her silly attempts at maintaining her modesty. Anne reluctantly settled down and let her mother pull her panties down over her wide hips. She began to shiver again when her panties hit the floor.
"Over the chair, Anne," her mother softly ordered her.
Fully expecting the leather strap, Anne was surprised to see the soft glint of light from the leather-covered paddle in her mother's hand. She obediently laid herself over the high-backed chair. Her fleshy buttocks grew taut and firm as she bent to her mother's will. She dropped her head onto the seat of the chair and took in a deep breath praying it would be soon be over with.
The big paddle came around with a sigh and landed squarely on one globular cheek.
Lydia applied the paddle to her daughter's other cheek, momentarily flattening her flesh and leaving a bright-red imprint. Lydia's voice never rose above conversational level, but she left no doubt in her daughter's mind about who was in charge.
"Don't you ever do such a thing again, Miss."
Lydia began to deliver the paddle strokes in earnest, heating up the girl's backside. The accelerated pace made Anne start to cry. The paddle slowly transformed Anne's buttocks from their natural creamy color to several shades of deep pink and scarlet. Anne was sobbing hard.
"M-mother, p-please! A-a-a-e-g-h! It hurts so!"
"You're darn right it hurts. How else will you ever learn?"
Blanche watched with particular interest. Many times in the past she'd watched her sister spank her daughter, but she'd never seen her use a paddle before. Both women had introduced their daughters to the strap when the girls were seniors in high school but Blanche was beginning to think the paddle might be even more effective. She wondered if the leather skin covering the wood had anything to do with it.
Debbie had crept back into the room and was standing quietly near the living room arch way. She looked pale and washed out. Blanche beckoned to her. While Lydia continued to paddle the daylights out of her daughter, filling the room with Anne's little girl shrieks, Blanche slowly unbuttoned her daughter's blouse. After her hurried trip to the bathroom she didn't smell very nice. Blanche was tempted to hold her nose. Instead she simply looked at her daughter and wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Deborah, you smell like a nauseous brewery! You've really earned one this time."
Debbie cast a baleful glance at her cousin. Anne's bare cheeks bore two large crimson patches that Debbie swore were still spreading and deepening in color beneath her mother's paddle. She was squalling and kicking as her mother continued to spank her again and again.
As Blanche removed her daughter's jeans, she made another face and threw them on top of Anne's clothing. She knelt to remove Debbie's panties. Debbie could have done so herself but her mother was in no mood to wait for her unsteady daughter to do as she was told. She took full charge of the situation. Debbie had acted like a naughty little girl, so that's how her mother would treat her. She'd be spanked, bathed and put to bed. As Blanche eased the girl's panties down over her slender hips she prayed that no young man had violated her. She looked up at Debbie. Concern was written all over face.
"Its okay, Mom. I-I have never let a boy touch me there. Honest!" Her eyes filled with tears.
Blanche felt herself relax. Debbie wasn't lying to her, that was one thing she'd never done. And she was grateful for it. But as she got to her feet she felt her maternal wrath rising again. She looked hard at her daughter.
"See that you don't, Deborah."
Since Lydia was still busily paddling Anne, Blanche decided to warm her daughter's backside by hand. It would prepare her for a long session with the paddle. She went to the hassock and set her foot on it. This converted her thigh into a perfect spanking platform. She had no problem supporting her slender daughter's weight.
"Come here, Deborah."
Debbie's eyes misted over a second time as she laid herself over her mother's extended thigh. She'd been spanked this way many times, she knew her mother was quite capable of delivering a stinging spanking in this position.
"Now you're going to get what you deserve. Imagine! My only daughter in a bar - drinking. I don't care if you are old enough. You'll not do it in my home."
Blanche's cupped hand descended like a trip-hammer splatting loudly on Debbie's small cheeks. Raising her hand again Blanche spanked her hard on the opposite cheek before settling into her steady rhythm that shook Debbie's tender buttocks. Soon her shrieks were mingling with those of her cousin's. The room was suddenly filled with anguished cries. Halfway through Debbie's hand spanking, Lydia stopped paddling Anne. The girl's haunches had taken on a diffused scarlet glow. As Lydia let her daughter up off the chair she realized her sister was administering a resounding spanking to her daughter. She followed suit.
She moved to the sofa and seated herself, gesturing for Anne to come to her. Shaking and sobbing, Anne crossed the room to her mother and stretched herself out on the couch, her hips straddling her mother's thighs. She didn't know it but this was her mother's favorite spanking position. It was so much more intimate than over a chair. The way Anne snuggled her waist and hip into her breasts made Lydia think it just might be her daughter's favorite position as well.
While Blanche prepared Debbie's bottom for the leather-covered paddle, Lydia administered a spritely hand spanking to her daughter's already swollen buttocks. As Lydia spanked Anne, it occurred to her she was going to have to put her daughter back on a diet again. She was becoming far too plump, and all of her weight seemed to be going right into her bust and bottom. Anne kicked and yelped to no avail. Her mother was determined to spank the girl until she'd thoroughly learned her lesson.
Blanche meanwhile had taken Debbie to the wing-back chair. Instead of laying her over the chair, however, Blanche sat down in the chair and took her daughter over her lap. She proceeded to give Debbie a thorough education in obedience with the leather-covered paddle. Debbie thought it was far more painful than the strap. Given her choice she would have opted for a good strapping.
The heavy paddle smarted and burned her backside, much more than the supple leather strap. Blanche covered the girl's already reddened buttocks with an even four dozen paddle strokes before she finally stopped. Except for the girls soft sobs and crying, the big house had fallen silent. Lydia was still sitting on the sofa, her daughter across her thighs.
"What do you think?" she asked Blanche. "Does it do the job?"
"Its perfect. We must find another. In the meantime-"
"Of course. Any time Deborah needs another lesson, send her to me. I'll see that she gets a good paddling."
Blanche and Lydia let their daughters up off their laps, snapped their fingers and pointed to the staircase. "Up to bed, you naughty girls! We'll see you both at six AM."
When the girls bent to pick up their clothes, Lydia was right behind them, spanking them both with her bare hand. Clutching their clothes and still crying, they hurried out of the room and up the stairs to the apparent safety of their bedroom.
As they climbed into the double bed they would share for the next week, Anne whispered to Debbie, "We never told them about the dent in the fender."
"Omigod," Debbie wailed. "I forgot to tell Mom.
by Nigel McParr