Calamity

By DJ Black

The clerk peered at her over thin steel wire glasses with grey appraising eyes and a concerned expression carved into his face as if all the world’s ills were his to put to rights.

“Dr Anthony B Sedgewick…?” he said distractedly, pronouncing the ‘th’ in Anthony instead of leaving the ‘t’ hard. His eyes scanned a long list of names.

Sarah Hammond, Mrs Sedgewick-to-be, huffed in exasperation, “Is Dr Sedgewick a guest at this hotel or not?” she demanded. Her tone was educated and clipped, like a real Boston lady, although she had never set foot in that city, hailing as she did from Providence, Rhode Island.

The clerk looked the list up and down one more time and then said with finality, “Apparently not ma’am.”

“Is there another hotel in town?” Sarah said sharply as if the absence of her future husband was a clerical error.

“No ma’am,” the clerk pursed his lips, “But I have a room for you if you need one ma’am,” he added brightly.

Sarah’s mind raced. She hadn’t counted on this. Yes she needed a room, but had assumed that the good doctor would have had it all in hand. Her own funds were by now quite depleted. Perhaps he had been delayed and if she took a room he would arrive before she needed to pay the bill. She was still contemplating this when a man nearby tipped his hat.

“Excuse me ma’am, I could not help overhearing… are you acquainted with Tony Sedgewick?” the man was clean and polite but vulgarly dressed. He seemed anxious. “Oh I am Tom Bellingham,” he added doffing his hat ostentatiously.

“Dr Sedgewick… yes,” Sarah acknowledged, but not without some disdain, as if the man had an odour.

“The Doc… yah…” Tom drew his mouth into a tight line and averted his gaze. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but… well you see… Tony… that is the Doc… well he is dead.”

The news did not belong in Sarah Hammond’s world so she did not hear it. “What do you mean? Where is he?” There was an elaborate and old fashioned carving adorning the stair rail leading upstairs and the carpet had little flowers woven in cream among the red. She gave it her attention and would remember it always. It was real.

“Ma’am… the Doc… he is buried at Calamity Park just outside town… least ways that’s we folks call it. I forget its real name. We buried him last Tuesday… it was all done… ma’am…?”

Sarah staggered back and looked for a chair. The clerk turned a gestured to a passing maid, mouthing the words fetch some water.

“H-how… how did he…? I mean… surely…” Sarah looked about her for some salvation or at least a more palatable sign of her life.

“A card game… a shooting… the sheriff would know more. They say the man who did it was cheating and the Doc called him out… but…” the vulgar man’s voice tapered off and he eyed the clerk for some clue as what to say.

“Cards… a shooting… thank God, now I know you have the wrong man,” Sarah feigned relief as she believed her words.

“Now I recall,” the clerk beamed as if he had just solved a mystery, “Yes of course Dr Sedgewick… he did book a room here… but there was no money… I mean after… oh… the room was let go.”

Sarah wasn’t listening and promptly collapsed to her knees on the floor.

*

The woman standing over her was handsome rather than pretty and above 30 with dark well-groomed hair and a tasteful if plain grey dress. Her expression was stern but softened by a hint of concern, perhaps like a school teacher or disapproving aunt.

“You feeling better?” she said to Sarah.

Sarah nodded, “Where am I?” She looked around at what seemed like a hotel room, but it was too busy and had all the trappings of a man of the middling sort.

“The hotel clerk’s room behind the counter,” the woman said. “Is it right you were supposed to meet Dr Sedgewick?”

“I… that is we… we were to be married,” Sarah spoke in a deadpan voice. Her gaze was vacant and her eyes focussed on nothing, or perhaps a lost future.

“I am sorry,” the woman said gently her hard-nosed demeanour softening for a moment. She was indeed beautiful, Sarah thought absently. “How long did you know him?”

“Know him? I… that is… we never actually met… we corresponded for about a year…” Then as if everything would be alright she brightened and said suddenly I have a picture. Then as a further distraction she cast her eyes around for her luggage.

“Your bags are still in the lobby,” the woman said, “They didn’t know if you were staying. Are you?”

Sarah opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again. She shook her head to convey that she did not know.

“My name is Roberta Easington, I keep the store over the street and…” she shrugged. “You have any money?”

Sarah focussed now and regarded the woman as if her life depended on it. “No, not enough for a room anyway, certainly not enough to leave town or…” she shrugged in defeat.

“What about your folks?” Roberta asked.

“I…” she thought about the orphanage, a home for distressed ladies, as it was styled. She shook her head, “No, nobody.”

“How old are you?” Roberta asked. She looked the young woman up and down and tried to reconcile her apparent arrogance with her circumstance.

“Twenty-one,” Sarah lied, she was barely 20, but was not about to be fobbed off on someone as a juvenile.

“I see, 21 is it?” Roberta knew a lie, although the young woman could pass for it, she guessed, “Seems to me you have three choices right now.”

Sarah was beginning to resent the woman’s interference and found her best sullen look.

“You could go to the sheriff and see if you can claim the Doc’s belongings,” Roberta said, but her expression was sour. “If you can prove… well I don’t know if he had any other kin but I don’t figure he had much anyways.”

Sarah shrugged and hoped this meddling Roberta had a better suggestion.

“You can get work at the saloon,” the older woman suggested, “Maybe you can sing or else… I figure you have no idea what I am talking about.”

“Sing? What are you talking about?” Sarah snapped angrily.

“Or…” Roberta said, ignoring the girl and took a deep breath, “You could come back with me. I have a room out back and I could maybe use some help in the store… I am a seamstress by trade, but this town doesn’t have enough business, but it may pick up. I could learn you that too.”

“Keep store, a seamstress; what do you take me for?” Sarah spat, rage was good, that was real.

“I take you for a foolish, penniless, homeless girl who is a long way from home with very few options,” Roberta sighed.

“Foolish?” Sarah snapped and shook her head angrily as she tried to deny the other obvious truths.

“And a liar to boot,” Roberta sighed.

Sarah instinctively reached out to slap the woman, but her arm was brushed aside.

“I should walk away right now,” the storekeeper-cum-seamstress sighed, “But Doc was a friend of sorts, although he never mentioned you.”

“He never mentioned you,” Sarah spat back.

“Be that as it may,” Roberta said wearily. “Tell me, has anyone ever given you a good sound spanking?”

Sarah bristled, but blushed all the same. The woman remaindered her of the Mrs Kendal at the orphanage, kind but stern and always ready with that infernal stick. “No,” she said sullenly. Not exactly a lie, unless you counted the stick.

“You have exactly half a minute to say, yes ma’am, thank you for kind offer ma’am,” Roberta said angrily, “Before I take you across my knee, bare your little bottom and spank it cherry red.”

Sarah gaped and flushed red. “W-what do you mean… I-I am not a child,” she gasped, and her tummy turned cartwheels and remembered Mrs Kendal telling her once that everything would work out.

“Well?” Roberta asked, steel now edging her words.

Sarah crossed her arms defiantly, “I have no idea who you think you are but…”

*

The angry squeal heard in the hotel lobby caused the clerk to look up. Tom Bellingham whirled around equally startled. A second and subsequent squeals were clearly accompanied by a rapid clapping sound, like a percussion supporting a bad song. Both men recognized the sound together.

“Oh, oh dear,” the clerk blustered.

But Tom grinned widely, “It seems Roberta is teaching our wayward bride to be some manners,” he said.

The clerk relaxed, relieved that an embarrassing problem may have been taken off his hands. “So it would seem,” he chuckled.

“You… y-you can’t do this,” came a faint squawking form the back room, but the rest of the girl’s words were lost to another yelp and rapid volley of smacks.

*

In the clerk’s back room Sarah was firmly held across Roberta’s knee with the girl’s skirts and underskirts turned up while her white cotton draws were in a tangle around her ankles. No amount of kicking on the young woman’s part could kick them free, not that was her intention. Amid the tumble of clothing were the tight domed curves of her exposed bottom, which by now was a deep rose pink and puckered all over with tight gooseflesh.

After a beginning her assault with her hand Roberta had spied the long handled gentleman’s brush on the clerk’s dressing table. It was slightly curved and made of hard wood of the kind that men used to brush down their jackets and such. But it was smooth and hard on the reverse surface and just the job to dish out a good sound spanking to the errant girl’s bare bottom.

“You can’t do this to me,” Sarah squealed.

“Clearly I can you ungrateful brat,” Roberta snarled.

“But everyone will hear,” Sarah wailed, the first real tears pooling at her eyes.

Roberta’s arm powered down in rapid thwacking spanks, turning the girl’s bare bottom an ever deeper red. “I don’t care, I have a position to uphold, have you any idea how hard it is for a woman alone in this town? I can’t people think I can be run roughshod over by a snip of a girl.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sarah sobbed.

“Oh you will be,” Roberta told her, “I ought to put you in the corner out there in the lobby when I am done.”

“No please,” Sarah gasped, but bitter-sweet nostalgia rushed through her and she was once again back at the orphanage. Facing the wall with hands on head was a common enough penalty, but for the really bad girls, bare bottoms were displayed in the refectory all during lunch. Even big girls had to endure this after getting ‘that stick’ from Mrs Kendal; left bare facing the wall so that the wild marks could clearly be seen. Sarah had been a good girl and it had never happened to her, but the sight always thrilled her somehow and later when alone strange feelings had tingled in her tummy as she had wondered what it would be like to be one of those girls.

“Yes thank you,” Roberta snarled as if correcting her, “Your bare bottom out there where everyone can see.”

Sarah started to cry. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

Roberta stopped spanking her and drew a heavy sigh. “So am I, I have a temper I guess,” she said, “but you can’t play the entitled brat out here, not in this town, there is no room for it and I can’t help you if everyone thinks I have gone soft.”

Sarah nodded, but she was crying freely now, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please don’t put me in the corner… not out there,” she said miserably.

“I guess not,” Roberta chuckled, “Not this time anyways.”

“Can I really stay with you?” Sarah sniffed as she was allowed to stand up, “Until I work out what to do I mean… I mean just for a while?”

“No hard feelings then?” Roberta laughed.

Sarah hastily repaired her clothing as she shook her head shyly and shrugged.

*

The visit to the sheriff’s office was unrewarding, but at least she had Roberta now.

“You knew the deceased well?” the portly old man wearing the badge said from his desk. He yawned and scratched at his ear.

“As I said, we were to be married, but no not really… I mean we never actually met… that is…” Sarah let her voice taper off. It was true she did not even know the man.

“Mail order bride eh?” the sheriff chuckled.

Sarah bristled at the stigma, but it was true and she nodded.

The man drew his mouth into a tight line as if pondering something. Then he snatched up some keys off his desk and opened a drawer. “I am guessing if he had any family they would have pitched up by now,” he said tossing a small leather pouch onto the desk. “We had to sell his fine hat and six-gun for the funeral. We buried him in his only good suit, but… there are some letters and a dollar with change,” he said gesturing at the pouch.

Sarah nodded and took the pouch. “Thank you sir,” she said suddenly felt relieved.

Outside she scanned the letters, most were from her, but there were a couple of bills and what she guessed were shopping lists. She guessed the bills had been paid and put the papers away. Not her problem now, not anymore.

*

Roberta’s house was spruce and well-appointed. The white paint was fresh and made the property glow in the sun and really stand out next to its neighbours. Roberta asked if there had been any money and Sarah just handed her the pouch.

“A dollar or so,” she shrugged, “For my keep…?” It was an insulting amount.

Roberta laughed. “Come and see your room,” she smiled.

The room was lovely and Sarah had never seen anything so beautiful as the rich red and green drapes in her room.

“I can’t afford this,” she gasped and clutched at her heart, she thought she was going to cry.

Roberta screwed up her face and brushed the words away. “I figure if you help with the chores and some other work… well it will all work out, leastways for now.”

They were both silent for a moment. Both remembering the spanking and not speaking of it.

Then finally Sarah spoke. “You remind me of Mrs Kendal,” she mumbled and chewed at her lower lip.

“Mrs Kendal?” Roberta asked.

“I was an orphan, Mrs Kendal was the directress, she was kind and strict too,” Sarah shyly bowed her head.

“I see,” Roberta replied, but it was her turn to blush. It was difficult just then for her to wash from her mind the image of Sarah’s pert bare bottom blushing ever deeper over knee. Perhaps she didn’t want to. “Well then… I have my eye on you… any nonsense and you know what to expect?”

Sarah blushed peony and she hid her face. “Yes Ma’am,” she whispered.

*

The days passed pleasantly enough. The shock of the good doctor’s death soon receded and Sarah realised that she barely knew the man and certainly had not loved him. However, the question remained about what to do. She had no money to set off back East and what little help she offered Roberta left her barely running to stand still.

Not that Sarah’s first few weeks had been without incident. Her attempts at laundry had been a spectacular disaster. Roberta had told her to hold fire on the wash, but ever eager to please Sarah had thrown the whole basket into the tub with a month’s supply of soda.

“What in tarnation…?” Roberta had gasped.

“Eh… it is a bit sticky… I mean… maybe…” Sarah had offered.

Roberta hauled through the sodden crush of her clothes. “My best dress,” she exclaimed, “You don’t wash… and the drapes… what…!?”

Sarah had felt a knot in her tummy and had taken two steps backward as Roberta salvaged what she could and hastily rinsed the perhaps soon to be rags and spread them out to dry. “I can’t just replace these, where do you think we are?” the older woman barked.

“I’m sorry I…” Sarah spluttered.

“Oh you’re sorry right enough,” Roberta barked and swirling around from her rescue efforts snatched up the laundry paddle.

“N-noo,” the young woman protested and made to run.

The irate Roberta Easington caught up with the fleeing Sarah before she had gone three steps and hauled down across her lap.

“No you can’t,” Sarah wailed and kicked her legs to get free.

“No you don’t,” her senior said sternly and began peeling back the layers of the young woman’s skirts.

“Please I…” the hapless Bostonian gasped and then squealed in frustration as her bottom was bared.

“Oh this could take a while, but once I am done you won’t sit down for a week,” Roberta spat through gritted teeth as she hefted the paddle and lined up to the now naked posterior.

“Roberta, please I am sorry, I was just trying to…” Sarah asserted, drawing on her best grown up voice, “heeeelp,” she finished as the paddle thwacked down on her defenceless bare bottom.

“Of course, just as I am helping you,” Roberta told her as she spanked the girl again.

The two swats had robbed the younger woman of all breath and her eyes must have been as saucers as the unrelenting blaze tore through her lower person.

“I told you to wait and I would tell you how to do it,” Roberta reminded her, each word or two punctuated by a sharp paddle spank.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Sarah hissed as she finally caught a breath.

“Cursing too is it?” Roberta scolded and began a spanking volley of a dozen or so swats, all full force.

Sarah bucked and twisted under the onslaught and wondered if skin on her bottom had not already been blistered away. “Please,” she shrieked.

“Now we’re getting someplace,” the older woman chuckled, “I bet about now you’re wishing I had sat you on a cactus instead.”

Sarah clenched her jaw and growled in frustration. Her breathing was ragged and her eyes somewhat damp, but she was damned if she was going to cry.

Minutes passed and the spanking got no gentler. The layers of Sarah’s composure were peeled away and her small grunts and wails took on force even as the tears rolled freely down her face.

Roberta too was breathing heavily and paused. “Well I declare you are a stubborn one,” she sighed. “This paddle is hot enough to catch fire.”

Sarah nodded still refraining from open sobs.

“You’re gonna need some breeze back there once I am done,” Roberta told the girl and put the paddle down. But before the girl could feel any relief she realised that Roberta was tugging at her waist where the skirts were piled and making some adjustments. “Let’s pin these things up some before we continue.”

“C-continue,” Sarah spluttered, “Please I am real sorry, I have learned my lesson, really I have.”

“Learning maybe, not quite learnt I guess, but I figure you will,” Roberta said with a grim satisfaction.

Sarah’s bottom was now two tight balls of fire and she knew she could not take one more swat. But she was laid prone across the woman’s lap all fight now well and truly spanked out of her.

The resumption of the spanking was the final straw and she broke to childish sobbing, kicking her heels and punching empty space like the paddled brat she was.

“There she is,” Roberta laughed and resolved to spank on for another five minutes or so.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Sarah babbled incoherently.

“Alright, you can stand up,” Roberta said finally.

Sarah crawled around and hugged into the older woman. It felt like home and she realised she knew what people meant by a ‘good’ cry.

“Hush girl, it’s over,” Roberta soothed, enjoying the rare intimate contact with the girl.

After a bit they fell to silence and Roberta stroked the younger woman’s hair. Then catching onto herself she again became gruff. “Alright,” she said, “Stand up and go stand in the corner, hands on head.”

“But… my b-behind its still…” Sarah whispered shyly.

“I don’t care, you were warned,” Roberta pointed sternly at the corner.

Skirts still pinned up and her under things at a tangle round her ankles, Sarah stumbled over to the corner and did as she was told. It was only Roberta, but it felt then as if the whole world could see her shame and her face burned as hot as her bottom.

The older woman felt her mouth dry as she studied the young woman’s naked posterior and as she drank in the sight she felt her thighs adjust themselves sensually under her own skirts. The day was warm and she had exerted herself, still it was a strange where a girl could perspire, she thought and let her eyes continue to regard the cherry red curves ensconced in the corner.

After almost an hour Roberta had sorted and rewashed the clothing worth saving and summoned the sheepish Sarah from her penitent vigil.

“Now you can take these to the sunny side of the yard up yonder and hang them out to dry,” she ordered.

The girl nodded and moved her hands to unpin her skirts.

“Leave that,” Roberta licked her lips, “But you can kick off the draws, don’t want you tripping up.”

“But,” Sarah gasped.

“No one out back, that I knows of and I don’t care anyways,” Roberta told her, “I warned you would learn.”

“But Ma’am… I am all naked behind,” Sarah whispered in a panic.

Roberta let a grin spread across her face, “Spanking’s a bitch ain’t it.”

*

From the front Sarah looked more or less respectable and this was the aspect she presented to Main Street which ran along by Roberta’s house whenever she heard a horse, a wagon or just one of the neighbourhood children calling out in their games. Even then she had to cast a glance back over her shoulder in case someone came out one of the house in back or was using the side alley. This was the angle she mainly faced once the sheets were hanging to form a screen, but all the same her nerves jangled more even than the dull throb and soreness in her exposed and very red bottom, where her skirts were pinned in back.

It was beyond embarrassing but the rush of shame was somehow exhilarating and she had never felt so alive. Furthermore, she felt punished and put in her place, but it was a soft fuzzy sensation that made her feel safe. Warmer still were her feelings towards Roberta, who had spanked her bare bottom so soundly in the first place. In her mind memories of the kindly-but-strict Mrs Kendal, the directress of her orphanage, and Roberta rolled into one; but she knew now whom she preferred.

“Are you done yet?” Roberta yelled.

“No Ma’am,” Sarah called back.

“Well hurray up, there’s more washing back here,” Roberta told her.

“But…” she glanced a look around, her hands fluttering around her still bare bottom, “Someone will see,” she wailed.

“You want another spanking?” Roberta yelled out.

“Shhh,” Sarah hissed, blushing deeply for Jesus and looking around in panic, “Someone will hear.”

“Someone will see in a minute,” Roberta snapped. “Then we are done you can sweep the yard and the front and back porches.”

Sarah gulped, the front porch really was in full view of Main Street; perhaps another spanking would have been preferable.

*

There were other such incidents, although few as potentially humiliating. Unless, that is you counted the fact that Sarah was soundly spanked across Roberta’s knee like an errant teen far too often. Once they had even had a visit from Jane Cashman, the preacher’s wife, while Sarah was still crying as she stood with her bare bottom exposed in the corner after yet another spanking. The ground failing to open up and oblige by swallowing her, Sarah had to offer muffled polite greetings and humbly accept such comments as, “Good to see a girl put in her place,” and “My, that is a sore bottom, I hope you learned your lesson young lady.”

“Yes Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” Sarah had sniffed.

“You’re lucky to have a friend like Roberta here, I hope thanked her for giving you a good spanking,” Mrs Cashman had continued.

“No Ma’am, I mean yes Ma’am, I will Ma’am… ooh,” the tears had sprouted afresh, but in a way she was slightly proud of Roberta and it reinforced her cosy feeling of having been punished and of… she bit her lower lip and buried her hot melting face deeper into the seam where the two walls met.

“Quit your crying,” Roberta had scolded her once Mrs Cashman had left. “Or I will give you something else to cry about.”

“But Roberta, it is so embarrassing, can’t I unpin my skirts now and…?” Sarah wailed.

Roberta laughed and placed an affectionate hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “I like your skirts just where they are,” she said eyeing Sarah’s exposed behind and revelling in the shameful thoughts she had. “I figure you can stay as you are for the rest of the day; unless you want some chores, a trip to the store maybe?”

“No Ma’am,” Sarah gasped.

“Then you can stay there for… another hour,” Roberta said, regarding the girl’s well spanked bare bottom as she might art in a gallery.

*

As the weeks passed the two women became closer and as time went by they both forgot that the arrangement had been a temporary one.

“Did you do all your chores?” Roberta asked her one day.

“Yes Ma’am,” Sarah answered, but her mind rushed through a list lest she had forgotten something: that sin would earn her a spanking, but lying would be even more painful and not to say embarrassing. “I did, didn’t I…?” she asked nervously.

“I figure you did… unfortunately,” Roberta chuckled. “I haven’t spanked you in over a week, I guess you’re learning.”

Sarah blushed and with a bowed head chewed on her lip. “It’s been almost two weeks,” she sighed.

“I expect there’s dust on the hairbrush,” the older woman chuckled. “Maybe I should spank you anyway, just so you don’t forget what it’s like… and,” she broke off and blushed. Self-consciously she fussed with her hair and brushed invisible specs from her dress.

Sarah licked her lips and shrugged. “Maybe you should,” she said shyly.

Neither woman ever remembered hearing nothing before. This particular soundlessness hung on a precipice that went on forever. The ticking clock was loud, but did nothing to break the moment; nor did the buzzing fly or the distant yelling out in Main Street.

“I could stand in the corner for a while and you could watch me to make sure I behave,” Sarah whispered.

“It would have to be a hard spanking, a long one,” Roberta found her mouth dry so that speaking was an effort. “Your bottom would get mighty hot and it’s a warm day… perhaps you should take your dress off altogether, your dress and…”

“Will I cry?” Sarah was panting now.

“Yes,” Roberta gasped, now equally breathless.

“Will you undress too, seeing as it is hot and all?” Sarah was already working the buttons at her neck.

“Yes,” Roberta said and then took a step forward to help her friend disrobe.

The smell of rose water, lavender and something more pungent merged and what began as a dignified undressing soon became frantic and somewhat more haphazard.

“I like it when you put me in my place,” Sarah gushed once she was down to just her shift. “That time I had to stand for supper and every day after for a spell knowing you… that you made it so I couldn’t sit down and… and knowing I had no choice and it was you.”

“I’m gonna spank you so they hear you all down Main Street,” Roberta left a petticoat on with her shift, but otherwise was as near naked as Sarah. “Spank you in front of everyone…”

“So they know you’re in charge of me,” Sarah finished. She made to kiss her friend like she had once been kissed by another girl at the orphanage.

“Wicked girl,” Roberta kissed back, but she pulled away and snatched up the hairbrush.

“Yes,” Sarah breathed, then she was across Roberta’s knee.

“Gonna spank you till you can’t sit down for a month,” the older woman let an edge creep into her voice as she bared Sarah’s bottom.

“Roberta, please, spank me until I beg, then and then… don’t stop,” the young woman groaned.

*

There were tears, but her eyes were barely wet. Hot rivers ran down her thighs as the hot hard hills of her tail boiled red under the fierce onslaught of Roberta’s hairbrush. Sarah twisted groaned as spank after spank stung her bare bottom; more than anything she wanted it stop and more than that she prayed it wouldn’t. Lovely to beg earnestly and so fruitlessly, she thought.

“Your so…” Roberta was panting hard from her efforts, equally wet where it counted. Her arm was becoming as lead and she had no idea how long she had been spanking the girl.

Sarah looked back over her shoulder, her eyes tear-brimmed blue pools. “I’ll do anything, anything,” she breathed, “Damn I am going to Hell.”

“I’m coming with you,” Roberta breathed. At last she put the brush down and cupped the curve of Sarah’s bottom cheek drawing a gasp, “So hot.”

Sarah squirmed as fingers found narrow crevices and tight wet places amid the heat.

“Stay there,” Roberta said relinquishing the girl, and then eagerly returned with a pot of white creamy ointment.

Face cream perhaps, Sarah thought, as Roberta smoothed it across both bottom cheeks and deep between. “Mmmmh ahhh,” she groaned.

“I ain’t done spanking you by a damn sight,” Roberta breathed and turned the girl about so she could kiss her.

“Promise,” Sarah groaned.

“I’m gonna spank you as often as you need it and I don’t care who knows it,” Roberta gasped as she kissed the younger woman.

“Let me see you naked,” Sarah gasped eagerly and dropped to her knees.

Roberta threw off her shift and let the petticoat drop to the floor in a puddle. Her curves were heroic, like a Goddess, like Venus herself. Her breast were full and the dense forest between her thighs both obscured and emphasised the generous firm lips amid them.

“At school two girls were whipped dreadful for kissing each other there,” Sarah whispered.

Roberta felt she knew not what as the woman on her knees followed up on her promise. “I’ll whip you… I’ll…”

“Turn around,” Sarah begged.

The older woman did so, presenting her magnificent backside, heavy and full. Sarah kissed it.

Roberta gasped at this. “I am so going to…” But she leant forward as kisses and a tongue found first the lower lips then the cleft between her bottom cheeks.

“Ah there it is,” Sarah giggled.

Roberta’s eyes went wide and she gasped heavily, “Sarah Hammond I am going spank your bare bottom blistered and blue.”

“I know,” Sarah laughed, but her words were now blunted by an otherwise engaged tongue, “Later.”

*

The two naked women embraced, now thoroughly sated. It felt shameful to be in bed in daylight and Sarah felt wicked. She groaned a little as she turned as her abused bottom chaffed the sheets. “If anyone knew they would be taken bets as to when I could sit down again,” she smiled.

Roberta nodded, breathing through her mouth a little. “I am going to need a bigger brush,” she snorted, “I am going to have up my game now, when I really have to punish you I mean.”

“You’ll think of something,” Sarah sighed.

“You can count on that you naughty girl,” Roberta laughed as she took the girl’s face in her hands, “A switch maybe or a buggy whip.”

“Mrs Kendal had a cane,” Sarah said wistfully.