HIT GIRLS” by the Crimson Kid
EARLY AUGUST 2012
“This `Mob Week’ on AMC is terrific,” noted twelve-year-old Jeremy Siegel. The slim, black-haired boy was sprawled diagonally on his living room couch, wearing pastel green summer pajamas which contrasted with his jade green eyes and olive skin.
His best friend, Remington Capone, likewise provided a contrast to the neighbor he was staying with that night. “Remmie” had Nordic good looks–golden blond hair, cut somewhat shorter than the other boy’s Mediterranean curls, turquoise blue eyes, a sun-bronzed complexion—and a slightly stocky build, being more muscularly developed than his companion even though he was three months younger and still only eleven years of age. At least his bright crimson pajamas were of a similar design to his best friend’s.
He nodded. “Lots of gangsters, although this movie jumps backward and forward in time, doesn’t it? Now Michael’s only a little kid and his family’s visiting Sicily, but just before he was a grownup in Cuba.”
Once the motion picture had finished, Jeremy turned off the television. “Ordering mob hits, that would really be something to do. We should play a game tomorrow, you trying to get me rubbed out before my `hit man’ gets you.”
His comrade shrugged. “We don’t really have any `hit men,’ do we?”
“No, but we’ve got our sisters, they could be `hit girls’ for us.” The dark-haired preteen’s tone was uncertain. “They think that we’re only annoying twerps, though, so they probably wouldn’t play along.”
Remington tossed a bed pillow onto the love seat and pulled on the woolen blanket he’d been sitting upon, wrapping it around himself as he slipped into a prone position. “We might as well ask them tomorrow, even though they’ll just roll their eyes at us…”
“So what do we get out of this silly game of `cops-and-robbers’, or actually `robbers-and-robbers’?” Roberta Capone demanded the next morning, while seated at the breakfast table consuming French toast soaked in butter and maple syrup. The sixteen-year-old was an older, much more mature and attractively feminine version of her younger brother, rather tall at 5’10” and bountifully buxom with brightly shining, shoulder-length hair.
Jeremy, who was eagerly eating five slices of toast slathered with strawberry jam, paused to respond. “Oh, it’ll be fun, Berta–we’ll be a team, you and me, trying to track down Remmie so you can eliminate him before Jewel knocks me off.”
His sister, seated between the two of them, snorted softly. “So we get to try to kill you two little twerps, huh? That does sound kind of appealing, I have to say.” While her close girlfriend was extremely pretty, Jewel Siegel was stunningly beautiful with classically chiseled Latin features, a willowy yet nicely-curved body and curly hair, slightly shorter than her blonde counterpart’s; she was also a half-inch taller and two weeks older than the other teenager, who was sitting opposite her at the kitchen table.
“No, Jewel, it’s only playing,” Remington murmured, gazing down shyly into the bowl of milk-saturated cocoa puffs in front of him. He had a major-league crush on the black-haired beauty, who smiled knowingly as she nibbled on her ultra-light breakfast of two lightly-toasted and barely-buttered slices of bread.
“You’re right though, we should get something out of this deal if we’re going to help these guys by being `hit girls’ in their gangster game.” Roberta’s brows furrowed. “I mean, in real life those mob criminals were risking their lives, so there should be some sort of true penalty for whichever of you two is the loser.”
Her girlfriend nodded. “Why don’t we work out some sort of contract while the guys finish breakfast, clean up the kitchen and get dressed?” (The two preteens were both still attired in their pajamas, while their older sisters were wearing tight-fitting, pure white jean shorts, halter tops and leather sandals.)
Several minutes later, the youngsters could hear girlish giggles coming from Jewel’s bedroom upstairs as they worked at the post-breakfast cleanup; the two sixteen-year-olds were obviously writing out a complex document on the room’s desk computer. By the time the two boys had changed into their daytime clothing, similar summer outfits of bluejeans, t-shirts, gray athletic socks and tennis sneakers, their two siblings were waiting for them in the living room…
“Spanked,” Jeremy muttered as he looked over a printout of the game’s contract, “This says the loser gets spanked by the winner’s `hit girl,’ which would be his big sister.”
His sister, seated on the living room love seat next to her girlfriend, chuckled at the boy’s incredulity. “Over her knee and right on his bare behind, the way that Mom blisters your little bottom when you need it—which is pretty often, isn’t it?” Her green eyes twinkled devilishly. “I’d love having you lying across my thighs, your baby-naked hiney pointed upward for me to lay into with the `sting-smack’ sandal, baby brother.”
His dark-complected face flushed. “I’m not a baby, Jewel.”
Roberta tittered. “But you sure do bawl like one when you’re being walloped by your mother, I’ve watched that happen to you a few times. Remmie’s the same way, you should see him kicking and crying over our mom’s lap while she’s paddling his chubby bare cheekies with her ivory hairbrush—the brush stays white all during the ass-whuppin’, but his bouncy buns turn a nice bright red.”
It was her younger brother’s turn to blush, his facial cheeks turning a rosy hue. “Please don’t tease me about my punishments from Mom, Berta,” he mumbled.
“Since we girls have spanking authority over you guys while our mothers are on their road trip, I’ll probably end up personally paddling you on your naked fanny before this week is over, little brother—maybe even several times…Oh, that would be delicious fun!” The blonde’s blue eyes were dancing delightedly before her expression became more serious. “But back to your game of gangland hits, if you want our participation that’s the deal—instead of being `rubbed out,’ the loser will get his bouncy bare derriere scorched by the other side’s `hit girl.’ So take it or leave it, you wannabe godfathers!”
Jewel snickered. “Oh, and the winning `hit girl’ gets to decide how long and how hard the losing `gang boss’ gets his naked hind end walloped, he has to take as much butt-beating as she wants to give him…Is that clear, guys?”
Her sibling’s face blanched. “Yikes!” Still, he was quite attracted to his comrade’s older sister, so having the opportunity to be her teammate—even if only his posterior was the one quite literally at risk—was compellingly appealing. “Yeah, what the heck, let’s do it!”
“Sign the agreement then, both of you,” Roberta instructed, “Right below where we `hit girls’ have already signed it…”
Half an hour later, after some last-minute adjustments and clarifications of the competition’s rules had been made, the two teams of neighbors set off in opposite directions.
Checking the time on her cell phone, Jewel chewed her lower lip as she and her `mob boss’ walked down the sidewalk. “We’ve got ten minutes to get into a good position to operate from, one where you’ll be safe while I track down my baby brother.”
“I know the obvious place to hide out,” the eleven-year-old noted casually, “But I’m not supposed to go there, according to my mom.”
She playfully clicked her tongue twice. “You naughty disobedient boy, I know exactly where you mean—the Marsten House up on the hill. Well, I won’t tell your sister that you were there, since it would mean you’d get a hard whomping from her with that ivory hairbrush, wouldn’t you?” The phone, which was charged and on `talk’ mode, was directly in front of her face where Remington couldn’t view its front. “Let’s get you there right away, then we’ll figure out how to win this game…”
The Marsten House had been abandoned in haste, still with most of its furnishings intact, four months earlier, and nobody in the town seemed to know whether the large Canadian-born family which had occupied it would eventually be returning to either reoccupy the place or put it up for sale. The two preteen males had managed to find an unsecured basement window by which they periodically sneaked into the unoccupied residence, despite the fact that their respective mothers had threatened each of them will severe retribution atop his exposed posterior if he were to be caught trespassing there.
“The middle bedroom is the best place to stay,” Jeremy explained to his pretty `employee’ as he led her through the Marsten House’s rear hallway, his right hand gripping her left one, “Since its one window faces backward, away from the street, and can even be opened from the inside in an emergency.”
His neighbor grinned, hefting her large, tan leather purse. “You mean if somebody’s coming in through the front door and you have to run away, right?” She sniffed the air. “It’s not really too musty in here, the Marstens must still have the electricity paid for, so that the A.C. is running once in a while—I’ll bet they’re coming back sometime, at least to pick up the rest of their furniture.”
Twenty seconds later, the two of them stepped into the still-furnished bedroom, which had obviously been occupied by an early-teenaged girl, and ended up standing face-to-face with their opponents, Jewel and Remington.
“Fancy meeting you here,” the dark-haired beauty trilled . She was directly facing her next-door girlfriend, with the `gangsters’ standing behind their female teammates for protection.
Her brother shook his head. “This is a standoff, we’re both protected by our own `hit girls,’ Remmie.”
Jewel chortled, but her undertone sounded sinister. “No, you’re not, dear boy, because we haven’t been `hired’ as bodyguards.” Her eyes met Roberta’s, both pairs of them shining with eager awareness. “I’ll step aside for you, while you do the same for me–let’s just be sure of our exact timing.”
Ten seconds later, Roberta was facing her younger sibling as she counted out: “One…two…three…touch!” Her right hand touched upon his chest, while simultaneously Jewel’s left hand likewise flattened against her own brother’s right shoulder.
“You’re dead, mister mobster,” the black-haired teenager announced cheerily.
“You too, godfather,” his older sister told Remington, flashing him a predatory smile. “Now it’s time to put you over my knee, although I’ll want those pants down in the back first—and your underwear too, of course.” She addressed her fellow sixteen-year-old while seating herself on the twin bed, which still had its pink mattress cover. “Jewel, I’d like the ivory hairbrush out of my purse, please, and you might as well remove your mother’s `sting-smack’ sandal too, since you’ll be using it after I’m done blistering my little brother’s bare buns.”
Jeremy had recovered somewhat from his apparent stunned amazement. “That’s not fair, you tricked us!”
“The cell phone, it was on and Berta was listening to us talking,” his fellow preteen muttered. “You girls were working together to set us up.”
Jewel chuckled as she removed the punitive implements and handed the white brush to her girlfriend. “That’s organized crime for you, huh? There’s really nobody who’s trustworthy, is there?” She smirked at him. “If I were you, Remmie, I’d be obeying my sister’s instructions right away—it’s not a good idea to annoy someone who’s about to whomp your naked hiney as long and hard as she feels like.” Her gaze fell upon her own sibling’s stricken-looking face. “As for you, baby brother, I think I’ll have you stand in the corner with your jeans and undies pulled down below your hind end, hands on your head and nose touching the two walls—just like Mom makes you do before she reddens your rear end.”
“Then our gangsters can change places when it’s Jeremy’s turn to bend over your knee for his whuppin’ with the sandal, while Remmie’s shining-bright rear end lights up this room,” her co-conspirator said gleefully. “It’s time for you guys to learn that crime doesn’t pay, at least when you have a big sister who’ll spank your naked fanny big-time as punishment for it.”
Although the boys protested that they’d been manipulated, and actually had “both won if it’s a tie,” their older siblings were adamant in insisting that, as Roberta put it, “You’d both be losers in real life if you’d been killed at the same time,” and therefore the double `hits,’ as in bare-bottom spankings, were going to be delivered. Their brothers were assured that there would be no `frontal nudity,’ either during the fanny-whackings or their serving of ass-exposed cornertime, but that guarantee was all they were able to negotiate.
Then Remington abruptly found himself bent over his big sister’s knee, trousers and undershorts lowered to upper thigh level in the rear, while she enthusiastically cracked her heavy ivory hairbrush’s smooth back against his wriggling boyish backside; the stinging swats landed at steady six-second intervals, alternating from one bouncing, reddening buttcheek to another, immediately producing gasps and yelps, which soon evolved into sobs and howls accompanied by teardrops, which likewise progressed from trickling to freely flowing as the sound spanking continued.
Roberta had wanted to paddle her younger sibling’s naked buttocks for several years, partly because she was attracted to the idea of administering corporal correction in general but mostly because she considered him to be a brattish nuisance in her life, so she eagerly took full advantage of the finally-achieved opportunity to do so. Although her hapless victim was wailing loudly and shamelessly by his chastisement’s five-minute mark, at which point his bouncing buns were glowing with a brilliant crimson hue, she spanked on relentlessly for another five minutes, at which point the boy was merely whimpering across her lap.
While his young cohort was kicking and crying, Jeremy was facing into the closest corner with his hands on his head, his nose touching the juncture of the two walls and his trim tushie—exposed via his pants and briefs snuggling just below it in the rear—trembling in trepidation. His own sister, watching the extremely emphatic chastisement which he could only overhear, kept up a more-or-less continuous, chipper commentary on the punitive proceedings.
“Ohhhh boy, Berta’s really letting him have it…Remmie’s bare buns are bouncing quite nicely with each sting-smack…You can hear how he’s carrying on, can’t you, brother dear?…Talk about bawling like a baby, Remmie’s doing exactly that…You should see how red his `down-in-back’ cheekies are getting, it’s like a pair of stoplights shining next to each other…Wow, Berta’s whacking away at his naughty hind end super-hard—You go, girl!…That heavy white hairbrush must hurt big-time…I can’t let her outspank me though, so you’re going to get it just as long and hard once I’ve got you over my knee, Jeremy, and it’s going to burn your baby-naked hiney just as much as Remmie’s is fired up right now.” Finally pausing to recover her breath, leaving the room still audibly filled with the steady, pistol-shot cracks of the punitive brush and their recipient’s piteous wails in reaction, Jewel lightly patted her brother’s quivering, defenseless derriere. “You’re nice and cool back here right now, sweetie pie, but that’s not going to last much longer,” she teased.
Helping her blubbering spankee to his feet, Roberta smiled with smug self-satisfaction at the deep crimson glow suffusing his ravaged rump. “That was ten minutes of fanny-whacking, little brother, twice as much time as you usually spend across Mom’s lap when she’s heating up your bare hind end. Now change positions with your fellow gangster, being sure to follow all of our family’s cornertime rules about position—unless you want another spanking from me, of course.”
“Nuhh-No, Buh-Berta, Ahh-I’ll obey y-you, I prah-promise,” Remington sobbed raggedly.
Within a minute, the thoroughly-paddled eleven-year-old was indeed keeping his nose in contact with the corner, sniffling uncontrollably with his punished posterior shining brilliantly; he kept his hands atop his sweat-soaked blond hair as he listened to the sound effects of another older-sister-to-younger-brother disciplinary session, one being administered by Jewel with her mother’s well-worn, size ten-and-a-half leather sandal. She ended up walloping her sibling’s slim, tightly-muscled posterior, upturned and openly exposed, every bit as intensively as her girlfriend had paddywhacked Remington’s, with very similar reactions on her hapless victim’s part; feeling somewhat competitive toward her blonde fellow spanker, Jewel kept the squirming, squealing and ultimately howling boy across her olive-sheened thighs for almost twelve minutes while `painting’ his vulnerable backside a dark magenta shade.
“My, oh my,” Roberta chuckled as the softly weeping, dark-haired youngster awkwardly climbed off his grinning sister’s lap, “Jeremy’s precious rear is glowing so brightly it’s hurting my eyes a touch just to look at it. I’m guessing that it must be stinging on your bare bottom like you just sat down on a hornet’s nest, dear boy.”
He grimaced, teardrops continuing to trickle down his rosy facial cheeks. “Suh-Something l-like that, Ber-Berta, it ruh-really huuuurts.”
His pretty neighbor nodded. “I’ll just bet it does—Jewel did a fantastic job of whuppin’ your cute caboose with that sandal. Well, go ahead and rub your throbbing tushie, for all the good it will do you.” She glanced at her corner-occupying little brother. “Come on out now, honeybun, you might as well try to massage the flaming heat out of your smacked seat too…”
Twenty-five minutes later, once the foursome had returned to the Siegel household, Jewel produced the `hit girls’ contract and pointed to its last paragraph. “We’ll collect our payments at bedtime tonight, guys—Remmie, you’ll report to my bedroom while Jeremy will wait in his room for Roberta to show up there and deal with him.”
Sitting somewhat uncomfortably on the couch, the boys anxiously scanned the document they’d signed quite hastily earlier in the day. “Ummmm, a successful `hit’ means that the `hit girl’ who pulled it off gets to give her `employer’ a `long, hard fanny-tanning on his baby-naked buttocks’…I don’t remember reading this part, but we were in kind of a hurry to sign it and start playing,” Remington mused, half to himself.
“Another spanking, that’s not fair!” his fellow preteen protested. “We both already got our butts blistered by you girls, didn’t we?”
Jewel tittered. “Read it and weep, you mob bosses—but we’ll save the actual weeping for tonight around ten o’clock, which will give your sore seats a little recovery time before we thrash them for you again.” The black-haired beauty smirked at her boyish neighbor. “This time you’ll be bending ass-end-up over MY knee, Remmie, and I’m considering it a challenge to spank you a whole lot longer and harder than your sister did—you’ll get the experience of feeling the sandal’s sole cracking across your chubby bare buns, and I’ll make sure that you never forget it.”
“That goes ditto for the paddling brush and your naked hiney, Jeremy, just wait until I’m smacking it for you,” Roberta told her prospective punishment recipient, her blue eyes flashing with determination but also amusement. “If you try to break our written agreement, we might have to tell our mothers about your naughty trips to the Marsten House, which would result in both wallopings and groundings for each of you.”
Jeremy sighed. “Blackmail…There’s no real choice, is there?”
His sibling snickered. “Nope, I’d say not…Now be sure to memorize your line, godfathers, the one you’ll have to deliver while handing your `hit girl’ her spanking implement this evening.”
“Let’s see,” Remington muttered, his eyes skimming over the document’s final paragraph. “It goes, `Show me that you really care, please spank me soundly, bottom bare.’ Oh, that’ll be embarrassing to say.”
His companion in mischief groaned. “Not nearly as embarrassing as having my pajama bottoms pulled down in the rear, then going across the lap of a female who’s not a relative so she can paddle me.”
“Don’t be spoilsports,” Jewel taunted playfully, “We ladies are looking forward to lowering your PJs and teaching you each a really good lesson…”
Momentarily, after the two sixteen-year-olds had departed the living room with wide grins on their faces, each of their younger brothers shifted his hips in a vain attempt to find a comfortable sitting position.
“Damn, they really are clever,” Jeremy conceded. “Who’d have figured them to maneuver us into two butt-whackings apiece?”
His younger neighbor smiled ruefully. “Now we’ll just have to take our medicine, and see if we’re up to it.”
The dark-haired youngster’s eyebrows arched. “Come on, this is our dream come true, Remmie, each getting his bare behind worked over by the other’s sister. Ever since we found that femdom spanking site they were looking at on my sister’s laptop, we’ve been wishing we could set up a deal like this—then they went and did it for us, but a whole lot better than we could’ve.” He sighed dreamily. “It’s going to hurt like hell, yet I can barely wait for Roberta’s hairbrush to be smacking my naked fanny tonight.”
Remington nodded pensively, reflecting on how beautiful Jewel was, while also anticipating the intense, blazing heat which the `sting-smack’ sandal would undoubtedly produce atop his defenseless derriere, when wielded extensively by her lovely feminine hand.
He whispered to himself: “Show me that you really care, please spank me soundly, bottom bare…”