by Callipygian
The colour was not quite right. The yellow in the fence clashed with the sublime green she had already crafted into the foliage. Not that there was any one green. The trees had been shaded with various greens, browns and even lime flower yellows. That would be the problem Caroline realised. The yellow fence now drew too much upon the subtle yellow of the forest.
“What are you painting?” Debbie asked as she sat casually stroking Caroline’s cat.
Caroline Dangerfield closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she counted to 10 the child would say something else annoying before she made it, so she made do with a slow countdown to five. She slowly released her breath.
“Debbie,” Caroline said pleasantly, “and how long have you been sitting in my conservatory?”
“Oh not long, I just followed Mr Treacle here.
Debbie Arnold the 17-year-old daughter of the equally annoying Amanda Arnold was her tenant next door.
“Yes,” Caroline drawled, “Mr Treacle always did have a poor taste in friends.”
“Well he likes me,” Debbie said brightly.
“My point entirely,” Caroline said under her breath. Then more distinctly, “Is your mother home?”
Debbie was a cute young woman in her own way, a trifle immature, Caroline thought, but that and most of the annoying aspects of the Arnold’s could be laid at the door of Amanda. The girl was boundlessly enthusiastic, ruthless addicted her pony tail, her red knitted jersey and obsessed with the cat. None of these things did she ever seem to be without.
The girl now regarded Caroline with serious blue eyes and seemed to wrestle with something. “She went out, shopping I think, she had a dreadful row with someone online this morning, a work thing I think.”
“Oh,” Caroline paused in her work and gritted her teeth. She put her brush down and stood, “Quite killed the inspiration.”
As the artist stood up a car swung round across the gravel, a little too fast, Caroline winced.
“Mummy,” Debbie said excitedly for once completely forgetting Mr Treacle.
“You stay here until that woman has safely parked,” Caroline told the cat.
Mr Treacle replied with something inscrutable and ambled away inside.
Caroline was tall and in great shape for a woman over 40. She was perhaps a little overweight but her large baggy artist smock and a wild mass off blonder hair indifferently held off her face by a broad blue hairband blurred that some. Her artist eye missed nothing, but she said very little, and that mostly under her breath as if passing judgement.
Amanda Arnold was the complete opposite: smart, poised and sensible; a petite brunette who saw nothing and was rather too talkative. “Ms Dangerfield,” she said as she emerged from her Audi with two shopping bags. Then to Debbie she said, “Be a dear and get the rest of the bags from the boot.”
“Do you have a minute Mrs Arnold?” Caroline said, finding a smile for the enthusiastically smiling Debbie who all but skipped to the back of the car.
The use of formality was shocking. “Um…” Amanda paused with mouth open, her brain scanning for excuses, quite a tell for the usually very talkative woman, “Claire’s coming home,” she said brightly as she landed on something, “And before I plan the evening meal I have to put things away in the freezer…”
“I’ll do it mummy,” Debbie said as she hauled four bags towards their kitchen door.
“It won’t take a moment,” Caroline said in a tone that said it is decided then, come this way.
Amanda smiled politely and nodded as if to say ‘of course.’
“So your eldest is home from college this weekend, how lovely,” Caroline made small talk while they were in earshot of Debbie.
“Yes, for a week actually, half term or something, well I can’t keep up and she is her own woman…” Amanda began to prattle.
“I thought she was 19 and wasn’t there something about a three day suspension… on top of that shoplifting thing?” Caroline hoped she didn’t sound bitchy, “Maybe she needs a little more support and guidance than… ‘being her own woman?’
Amanda’s smile did not waver but her face tightened just a hint around the eyes. “Was there something in particular you wanted?”
“You didn’t pay the rent last month and this month’s is overdue… we agreed that you would pay by Monday even if it was only half for this month?” Caroline said lightly.
Amanda’s demeanour changed and she stopped talking and opened her mouth without sound.
“It is just that you said you had a new contract starting today… but perhaps that hasn’t gone so well?” Caroline was shaking her head expectantly.
“Ah, darling Debbie has been a talkative soul,” Amanda sighed.
“Whereas you have been somewhat closed lipped… for a change,” Caroline replied.
“The thing is… look I will pay you but…” Amanda readied another promise.
“This is not the first time, is it? You were late three times last year, three times, and I even reduced the rent. It seems to me that even if you secure a new contract tomorrow you won’t get paid for three months… that is how it works?” Caroline reminded her tenant.
Amanda winced and had to agree, which she did by nodding slowly.
“You are technically lodgers, so I don’t need to give you notice, but I am feeling generous. The end of this month and you are out… I will give you three months if you pay me what you owe me before the deadline. However, we are done Mrs Arnold.” That use of formality again made it sound final.
Amanda gaped and tried to find a counter argument but Caroline had walked away.
The artist didn’t mean it, not this time anyway; she would relent at the last minute she decided, but only on account of the children. However, there had been an extravagant amount of shopping in that car; the woman had all the wrong priorities. She needed a scare or Caroline was going to continue to get played.
***
Caroline couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was the electric night and the warm smell of late summer. Perhaps it was the hard stars like a billion tiny holes in the polished black sky obscuring some great fire ever beyond reach. The Plough showed the way north, but that was not the way the artist was heading. She tried painting but it wasn’t what she needed so she headed outside onto the lawn to take it all in.
It took a moment or two before she noticed Amanda sitting on the garden bench smoking a cigarette.
“Hello Caroline,” Amanda sighed and took another languid drag on her cigarette. “I haven’t smoked in years; years and years… I have no idea why I still had this one.”
“One of those days,” Caroline said.
Amanda nodded. “I have fucked it all up… again.”
“I thought that new contract was going well?” Caroline probed.
Amanda nodded slowly and looked like she might cry. “So did I, but… the bastard let me down. I let most of my other work go trying to make his project work… ‘We decided to go in another direction,’ he says.”
“No hope then?” Caroline said.
“I might pick up some of the overflow, might even be lucrative… in the long run. I called an old client of mine, several in fact, but she was glad I called, has work next month… pretty sound pay packet a month or two after that… as you astutely pointed out. We will manage on a credit card and overdraft until then, until it all goes tits up… again,” Amanda took another drag, “Sorry, my sob story and you have been more than reasonable.”
Caroline knew she was going to relent, but she did not want to interrupt the flow of positive introspection.
“You know, you are right about Claire, she is a bigger mess than I am… I am worried sick. As usual I just choose to ignore it. What she really needs is a swift kick up the backside,” Amanda laughed as if she had just found an answer that was tantalisingly out of reach. Like so much in her life; taunting her and just beyond her grasp.
“Maybe that is what you need?” Caroline said taking the cigarette from Amanda and taking a drag.
“Maybe, but who is to do that, the husband is now a very long way in the rear view mirror and mother is no longer with me,” Amanda’s lost eyes were fixed on the middle distance at something also lost. Absently she took back the cigarette and finished it.
Caroline knew she was going to tell Amanda that she was not getting kicked out and the rent could wait… again, but that was for later. “Come on,” she said and reached out maternally to take Amanda’s arm.
“Where are we going?” the younger woman asked. Not that she expected an answer and was barely bothered about getting one.
“My studio,” Caroline told her and taking her hand lead her there. Once inside she shut the door against the night, “Wait there,” she said sharply and went to get something.
“Sure, where else would I go?” Amanda looked about her in a daze, some of the paintings were rather good; especially the one that sat on the easel: incomplete like her life.
Caroline returned with the air of someone with a purpose. “When was the last time you were given a bloody good spanking?”
It was then that Amanda noticed the hairbrush in Caroline’s hand. She was no longer listless and was suddenly alert. “Um… actually…” she felt strangely disconnected.
“You were spanked growing up?” Caroline took Amanda’s hand again and gently led her to the sofa set in the corner.
“Eh… yes but…” Amanda didn’t resist as Caroline sat down and gently tugged her across her lap.
“So when was the last time?” the artist pressed the now confused and unresisting tenant draped across her thighs.
“You mean for real… not with…” she swallowed nervously wondering what was happening but as usual not confronting whatever it was, “Brian… we messed about… before that I was Claire’s age. Mother… in college”
“Did it help?” Caroline’s hand slipped under the hem of Amanda’s kaftan-style night ware and slid the fabric up her legs to her thighs and onwards until she was brushing the base of the woman’s bottom cheeks. There she paused.
As ever tantalisingly out of reach, Amanda’s thought came uninvited. Her tummy tingled, a feeling that spread to unexpected places.
“Did it help?” Caroline asked again.
Amanda swallowed and whispered, “Yes.”
Caroline’s hand lifted the hem of the kaftan over the swell of Amanda’s bottom to reveal the generous curves and the tight split between the rolling spheres and up into the small of her back.
“Is this… are you… I mean… if I… you know the rent?” she was breathless. Amanda needed a reason to surrender, a martyr’s sacrifice to remove any need to accept responsibility for this act. If this was a bargain: ‘you get to spank me and we get to stay?’
“Nothing has changed,” Caroline lied, her voice was sharp and threatening, “This requires an unconditional acceptance; the kick up the backside you agreed you needed.” She was holding the brush but her hand cupped Amanda’s cheeks to smooth the rounded bottom, lingering just away from the tenderest parts. “You will leave here a better woman, that is all.”
“Please,” Amanda whispered, please yes or please no, she genuinely had no idea. It was a possible consequence without consequence.
Caroline spanked her once with her hand and Amanda gasped feeling the site of impact as a tingled sting.
“This is going to hurt,” Caroline told her.
“No shit Sherlock,” Amanda made a joke to reclaim some control.
“No Mrs Arnold, this is going to fucking hurt,” Caroline warned as she took up the brush.
Amanda heard the warning and was awake to it just as the first true spank landed. Her face came alive and she jerked across Caroline’s lap. “Hey,” she said.
Caroline spanked her again, a hard sweep of the brush that aired at a point beyond Amanda’ hips.
“Hey,” Amanda was shrill.
“Did Mummy spank you this hard when you were 19?” Caroline grinned and spanked the helpless bare bottom again. There were a couple of red patches on the curves and underside.
“Oh yes,” Amanda gasped.
Caroline spanked her tenant’s bottom full force.
Amanda responded with a rolling groan and she scrambled to hug a cushion on the sofa, she bit down on it.
“Why were you spanked?” Caroline spanked Amanda languidly; slow hard sweeps that burned at various places.
Amanda jerked at each impact and bit ever harder down on the cushion.
“Why?” Caroline spanked extra hard, glad that she could.
“I fucked up,” Amanda’s words tumbled over each over as she forced them out with a squeal.
Caroline spanked her harder and faster for a minute as Amanda twisted and struggled with the onslaught.
Amanda was panting hard, almost as a drowning woman, her bottom hurt more than she knew as she remembered.
“Tell me,” Caroline demanded, slowing the pace of the spanking again, one hard swat per second now.
“In college,” Amanda panted, “Drugs, sex and…” she yelped, “You know… pregnant with Claire.” Amanda was crying now, the breath an effort in her chest, tears rolling off her nose.
Caroline paused the spanking, “You left college to marry Brian?”
Amanda nodded and grimaced with the pain that had not stopped with the spanking. “Mother was furious, there were friends and family, I embarrassed her in front of everyone, so she embarrassed me… bare bottom right there right then… and then afterwards dragged me upstairs for the riot act and another spanking.”
Caroline resumed the spanking and upped the pace, fast was better than hard for a minute or two.
The effect was electric on Amanda and she began yelling.
“Who spanks hardest?” Caroline asked.”
“Oh, definitely mother,” Amanda said bitterly.
“I am going to change that,” Caroline told her and brought the brush down and round full force to the underside of Amanda’s bottom driving her forward and making her bellow.
“Stop, stop, please…” Amanda said at last.
“Oh no, we have only just got started,” the artist continued to paint in red.
Amanda was shocked. This was the first moment since the spanking had started that she truly wanted it to stop and she now knew that she had assumed it would on her say so. This wasn’t up to her; for once she had absolutely no say. She clamped her jaw down on the cushion for 40 seconds to endure 50 or 60 very hard spanks and then she began pouring muffled angry shouts into it.
Caroline struggled to hold the woman, but the spanking was needful, very needful and they both knew it.
“What do you think? Two, three maybe four days before you can sit down… maybe a week? I always love the classics,” Caroline teased, her mockery in stark contrast to the spanking she was delivering.
Amanda hugged the cushion for dear life even as she chewed it. Her face was puce and vein-flooded; her bottom was dark angry red with actual welts around the curves.
Finally Caroline cast the hairbrush aside and pulled the woman into a cuddle. Amanda howled and sobbed as she rocked in the artist’s arms.
At some point they kissed and then stripped themselves of clothing. The day bed sofa in the studio held them as they violently thrashed: thighs between thighs until Caroline pushed Amanda back and pressed he open mouth to the place between her open legs.
“Jesusfuckingchrist,” Amanda exclaimed as she came.
***
“Some kick up the backside,” Amanda groaned as the first light touched the sky. Somewhere a cock crowed and the other birds were already singing.
“An admiral purple,” Caroline smiled as she held the naked woman on top of her and explored her bare bottom with her eyes.
“Encore,” Amanda said as she kissed the older woman’s breast.
“Do you want another spanking?” Caroline said sharply.
“Yes please,” Amanda answered and chewed her lower lip.
“I am not kidding,” Caroline told her.
“Nor am I,” Amanda challenged.
Caroline swung them around so that Amanda was back across her lap. “You might not sit down for a month.”
“I’ll be gone by then,” Amanda said glumly.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Caroline said as she spanked her hard with her hand, “You never were you stupid woman,” and she spanked her again.
Amanda gasped and jerked her head back at the unexpected burn. Careful what you ask for, she reminded herself. “Okay too sore for this, no more…”
“Oh yes more,” Caroline warned her, “Lots more and I warn you, there are going to be some big changes around here.” Her spanking had landed half a dozen times more.
***
Debbie woke up early for some reason and yawned. It was light, but only just. Too early for breakfast but she got up anyway and headed for the bathroom. Then seeing her mother’s bedroom door open she went down stairs. “Mum?”
The back door was open to the patio and the shared garden beyond.
“Shittle-dee-dee,” she swore and frowned. “Mum?” she called out into the half-light of morning. “This is so very strange,” she said aloud as if mocking the situation made things better.
The only sign of life was in the conservatory that served as Caroline’s studio and the light was on. Well her mother wouldn’t be there, she knew, but Caroline must have left the lights on.
She went to check anyway and was about to yell for her mother again when she saw a shadow move on the heavy canvas screen that shaded the studio. Frowning Debbie edged forward and took a peek through the small gap that had been left in the beige cloth. She hadn’t meant to pry, but what she saw was a challenge to comprehend for several seconds. “Shittle-doodle-doo,” she gasped.
Her mother was at a right angle facing downwards across Caroline’s lap. They were both completely naked, very especially her mother’s bottom, which quite apart from being about as bare as a bare bottom gets it was a deep shiny red border on purple and had obviously been spanked to buggery at some point very recently; so recently that the spanking was still in progress. The scene was like a punch in the tummy, and Debbie could not grin for gasping down air.
“Oh my God,” she whispered loudly and wished she had someone to share this with. ‘No one, but no one would believe her,’ she realised. Did she believe her?
“Okay, no more, I was kidding, I was lying… you know me I am a big fat liar… ooh please, this hurts so much,” her mother was pleading.
“No you were truth telling when you asked for this, but as usual you did not think through the consequences,” Caroline scolded her, “Not that I mind in the slightest, this is fun. Are you having fun yet?”
“I’ll pay, I’ll go… I’ll stay… please I will do whatever you want,” Amanda babbled.
“Oh you’ll pay and you’ll stay, but on my terms under my rules, you and your daughters,” Caroline told her as the spanking continued.
“Y-yes, yes okay… you win,” Amanda wailed.
Debbie’ mouth hung open as million girlish thoughts tangled with some very adult ones as she watched. They were staying; she literally jumped up and down and clapped her hands. That should have been the best of it, but seeing her mother get a bare bottom spanking was priceless; a live forever in the memory and change who you are moment. And she knew it really should not be. She blushed and moved away, no one could ever know, she knew that much and hated being a grown up about it and wished she could be a brat and watch.
There were going to be changes, she had heard, good changes she instinctively knew, well, good in some ways… pulling a bloody big plaster off a tender place good thing. Not that she could quite fathom what this might look like, not entirely… her tummy tingled in an odd way at some thoughts on the subject. Girls at school like Mummy and Caroline got teased sometimes… rug munchers and other horrid things… Debbie didn’t mind really, did she? Mummy needed someone and she had always, always loved Caroline and now mummy did too; well probably. She did not know how this all worked. Hey I am a kid… for another couple of months anyway… so I cannot worry about it.
There was another loud squeal from inside the studio and then some sounds that maybe Debbie did not want to know about so she went back to bed.
***
Claire arrived that weekend in a surly mood. She barely acknowledged her sister as she got out of the taxi and made a beeline for her room. She looked exhausted and crashed around from the moment she arrived. “I can’t believe this bloody place,” she yelled, “Who moved my books and my…?” the rest of her tirade was lost in swearing and yet more crashing.
Amanda, who after three days had only just remastered the ability of sitting down was in a good mood. She stood mixing something in a bowl in the kitchen and came to the foot of the stairs to yell up to her eldest daughter, “Hello Claire, so nice to have you home.”
She was in a tolerant mood, having slept with Caroline every day since their confrontation. Better yet Debbie had dropped more than a couple of heavy hints that she knew and approved of the new arrangement. Not that Amanda was ready to have that talk yet; not least because Claire was as yet completely oblivious.
Caroline chose the moment to come over, “Was that Claire?” she was nervous for once, she had a lot of influence but Amanda was always going to put her daughters first.
“Fuck,” Claire yelled and something crashed.
“Sounds like Claire is having a bad day,” Caroline said.
Debbie giggled.
Amanda frowned and looked upwards towards the commotion. “It could get a whole lot worse,” Amanda sighed.
“Fuck,” Claire yelled again and was obviously kicking something, “Where the bloody hell is…?” the rest was again lost in an angry outburst.
“Here,” Amanda said, handing Debbie the bowl and then from the hall table she took the clothes brush and then headed upstairs.
“You don’t think…?” Debbie gasped, but she was grinning all the same.
“Well let me just say that I have suggested to your mother that at least one person should get a spanking this weekend and it was rather up to her who was first,” Caroline said.
Debbie blushed, “Should you be telling me that?” she whispered.
“You know quite well what is going on young lady,” Caroline told the soon to be 18-year-old.
“And what is that?” Debbie asked, but she was blushing for England at this point and would not meet Caroline’s eyes.
“Come to my studio again when I am working and you will find out,” Caroline warned her.
Debbie giggled nervously. And gave her attention the mix in her mother’s bowl and kept stirring.
“What is that?” Caroline asked.
“Dinner I think,” Debbie shrugged, “How is that painting going?”
“Oh it’s…”
The argument upstairs seized their attention and they both looked upwards.
***
“Mother, no Mother,” Claire sounded panicked she took a deep breath and with a slow downward hand gesture she said again with a calmness she did not feel, “I know you’re mad, I’m sorry alright? But I am a grown woman and… and…” she tried to convince herself she did not know what her mother intended.
Amanda was confronting her daughter with the clothes brush from the hall and was digging deep for some resolve. “So you think you are too old for a spanking?” There she had used the S-word and not blushed. She could still feel the effects of the spanking she had had from Caroline only a few days before.
“A spanking?” her daughter’s voice went up half an octave. “You are not serious?” Her mother had actually said it, although she had known her Amanda’s intention the moment that she had walked into the bedroom.
“Oh young lady, I am perfectly serious,” Amanda gestured with the brush, “It has been a while but you are definitely not too old.” Don’t I know it, she thought, but recent experience gave her resolve not reluctance.
“Hello Mother, we are not doing this, I am 19 remember, I go to college… I… I… look,” she swallowed hard and dug deep for little miss reasonable and tried to sound like a confident grown-up, “I have been fucking up this term, I know it,” she began making vague placating gestures with her hands.
“We will get to that, believe me young lady,” Amanda said, “This is as much about today, you have been an absolute nightmare and you have been here 10 minutes… and your language, we don’t talk like that… what is wrong with you?”
“Everything moved around and changed and… and I thought you would be mad and…” Claire’s façade cracked and her mother came towards her.
“Nooo,” Claire made a dash for it.
Amanda might have hugged her but the sudden recovered defiance and her attempted flight sealed it. Claire was an easy catch and she was able all but lead her towards the bed.
“You can’t Mummy, you can’t,” she protested without force as Amanda guided her gently to lie face down over her lap. “No…” Claire gasped as she felt her mother’s hand at the waist of her jeans; a futile protest. Pants and denim trousers were slid down her legs all the way to her ankles and Amanda patted her daughter’s bare bottom.
“I can and I am going to,” Amanda sighed, she wasn’t enjoying this; in fact she wished she hadn’t started it. She realised now that she had begun it as a gesture, a future warning. It felt all so uncomfortable, and not just the residual ache in her own bottom. But that spanking had done her good, and the sex had been after. This was not like that she realised and remembered the clarity.
Claire waited, no longer knowing what to say. She felt the awkwardness too, and the embarrassment. However, she had been so lost and coming home had seemed like a forlorn hope a world of no consequence’s and more indecisions. This at least felt definite.
Not knowing what else to say or do Amanda raised the brush and brought it down with an indifferent thwack.
“Ah,” Claire said breathily but it hadn’t hurt all that much.
Amanda spanked Claire again, a little harder.
Claire did not react. She was determined now not to. This was silly. Then it occurred to her that Debbie might guess, the little cow was a good guesser. Claire felt a surge of blood to her face and then she thought about her friends finding out. The flush boiled instantly and she felt the panicked horror of it. “Don’t tell anyone,” Claire said very meekly.
Amanda spanked again, this time harder than she meant and her daughter gasped. Her bottom was a little red now, but nothing like her own had been. Another spank followed and Amanda got a feel for it and picked up the pace so that at a steady rate spank began to follow spank.
For a time Claire bore them well, only little sighs and weak ‘ahs’ escaped her throat, but her bottom got very red and she began to squirm under the steady and growing onslaught.
“I am done with you behaviour, do you understand?” Amanda said at last, she did not slow the spanking one jot. “Do you?”
“Yes,” Claire protested indolently.
“Attitude,” Amanda growled and angrily redoubled the spanking.
Claire let out a distressed wail and began yelling out at every impact.
“Do you understand?” Amanda demanded.
“Yes,” Claire shouted.
“I have had enough, you went shop lifting, for Christ’s sake… your grades, your suspension… your suspension? Is it even half term?” Amanda just realised something.
“No, I…” Claire’s words were decidedly wet, “It is only a week,” she said meekly.
“You lied, you little bitch, you lied…” the spanking truly began now great, pounding spanks blasting Claire’s bare bottom so that she squirmed and bawled like a 12 year old.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Claire howled unreservedly. The spanking did not stop.
“You were going to come home for a week to swan around here like you owned the place and pretend you had a half term holiday,” Amanda accused, her spanking technique became more enthusiastic now.
“I know, I know… I knew it was…” she began throaty sobs that sounded like chuckling, “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
***
Caroline and Debbie exchanged opened-mouthed looks of disbelief and the drama unfolding before their ears. But both managed a conspiratorial smirk.
All sounds of spanking abated and Amanda could be heard scolding Claire although words reached them. Debbie started up the stairs craning her neck but Caroline called her away.
“Eh… aren’t you supposed to be doing something in the kitchen?”
Debbie pouted and returned to the mixing bowl.
Then Amanda came down stairs dragging a sobbing mess of a Claire with her; the latter being now naked below the waist and sporting a sore bottom that even made Caroline gasp.
“Mother please, I’m almost naked…” Claire squealed, her hands fluttering in front of her.
Amanda ignored her, “You will stand there, face that wall… get your hands up on your head… I mean it Claire.”
Claire indulged in some open-mouthed breathing and averted her eyes from her sister and Caroline. “What’s she doing here?” she wailed.
Amanda gave her one hard swat and drove her to face the wall. “Do you want another spanking?”
Claire moved to obey, but now with a face so red it was hard to tell which set of cheeks were the most colourful.
“Caroline will be around much more from now on… but never mind about that now,” Amanda said sharply, “Just one peep, one snide comment or any attitude and I will spank you again right here in front of everyone. As it is we still have to discuss this criminal enterprise of yours and I am not at all happy that you lied about your suspension and pretended that you had a half term holiday… so at the very least you are grounded. You will stay home and get your head down to get those grades up… no TV, no phone, no sunbathing…”
“This is so unfair,” Claire whined and dipped her knees so that she bobbed up and down in frustration.
“For now, stand still and stay there,” Amanda told her daughter, “so that everyone can see your bare bottom and how well spanked you have been.”
“Please send her away,” Claire was mortified and close to crying.
Amanda realised she had left the clothes brush upstairs. “Debbie go and fetch the bath brush… I just might need it.”
“Nooo please, I’ll be good, I’ll be good,” Claire promised.
“We will see,” Amanda said, “There are some changes around here and believe me you won’t be the only one getting a spanking when it’s needed.”
Debbie flushed and rubbed her own bottom, although unlike Claire, she knew that her mother was not necessarily just talking about her.
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