My Sister’s Friend … By Manicrooster

My Sister’s Friend
By Manicrooster

My sister had a best friend named Alexis. She was my first real crush. She had a very cute face but what I remember the most about her was her cute little behind.

All the kids in my neighborhood use to go to a place we called The Falls. It was a waterfall in the woods near my house. We would go there to swim and play in the water. I’ll never forget the day I went there and saw my sister and her friend playing in their bathing suits. Up till this point I kinda liked her, but never paid any attention to her. When I saw her beautiful butt in that blue, flower print, one piece, I became obsessed with her. I stopped hanging out with my friends and would come home right after school. Hoping my sister and Alexis would be there. I became more interested in what my sister was doing. Which was a change because she use to follow me around. This was right around the time I started to spank my sister. I started to wonder what it would be like to spank my sister’s friend. In my head it was different than the spankings I gave Mindy. When I pictured myself spanking Alexis, it was always playful. She could do no wrong in my eyes. When she was around I would flirt with her and she would flirt back. But I always got real nervous after awhile and left. This was the first girl that I ever felt shy in front of. I really started to like her. All of her, inside and out. She was cute and kind.

One day, my sister asked her to sleepover. When I found out, I called one of my friends over to hang out. I needed somebody to keep my sister busy. When it was just the three of us, I always felt a little odd. Whenever me and Alexis would talk, my sister would always jump in to the conversation. I don’t blame her, after all, it was her best friend. I just wished we could have more time together. Later that night, after my mother went to work, I put my plan into action. All I really wanted to do was find a way I could playfully slap her butt. Alexis and my sister had changed into their sleeping clothes. She was wearing a long white tee shirt. I remember every time she walked in front of me I could see the outline of her underwear. I could also barely see the color of her panties, too. I started to flirt with her and she flirted back. So then I started to tickle her and she giggled. She was very ticklish and would slap me lightly on my hands. I would slap her hands lightly back. This started a playful slap fight. I took a chance and slapped her behind. She didn’t mind, so every couple slaps I would go back to her butt. I started to tickle her again and she got up to run. I chased her in to my room and we fell on my bed. We continued to tickle and slap each other until we were exhausted. She was laying on my lap, looking up at me. We just stared in to each others eyes for awhile. I started to think about spanking her again. My bed was next to the wall. I was leaning up against it with my back and my legs were straight out in front of me. I put my hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her around. She didn’t resist. In fact, she scooted up so her butt was right over my lap. I placed my hand on her tee shirt that was covering her behind. I was really nervous. This was the first time I was touching the ass of somebody that I liked. Alexis didn’t say anything but she did lift her butt up and down when I touched it. I picked my hand up and spanked her lightly. I looked over at her head. She was just laying there with her arms folded under her chin. I spanked her again. I felt such a rush. This was way different than my sister’s spankings. I was getting a little excited. I kept going, taking my time. I threw in a couple hard ones to see how she would react. Every once in awhile I would hear a low moan. I started to pull her tee shirt up, but she reached back to stop me. I guess that was enough for now. I turned her over and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed me back. She was the first girl I kissed that I was actually in love with. We kissed a little more and went to sleep. She slept in my bed that night. All we did was spoon. I remember the heat coming off her behind against my body. I was a little embarrassed because it made me kinda excited. But she didn’t seem to mind.

This started one of my greatest relationships ever. Wherever you are ‘Alexis’, I still love you.

Shopaholic F/f by Manicrooster

F/f hand hairbrush

by manicrooster

“Amy, your father and I are leaving for the Friday night auction. Come say goodbye.”

“Yes Di…an…, I mean, mother.” she yells from the kitchen.

She scurries towards us standing at the front door. She’s wearing name brand jeans and a designer top that I bought for her. Before she met me she hardly had any clothes at all. I see the look of fright on her face. She knows better than to call me Diane. Three and a half years I’ve been dealing with this little brat.

“I heard what you said. We have talked about that many times. I thought you would have learned by now.”

The look of terror and sadness on her face is priceless. I’ll let her feel that for awhile. I have somewhere to go, anyway.

“We’ll be back in a couple of hours. You know the rules. We expect you to behave.”

A look of relief comes across her face.

“Yes mom, I will. Thank you.”

She always tries to thank me when I don’t spank her. She should be thanking me for spanking her. After Amy gives us a hug and a kiss, we walk out the door.

“Hold on honey, I forgot something,” I tell my husband.

I walk back in the house and Amy peeks around the corner. The smile on her lips turns into a frown. I walk upstairs to her bedroom. There are three huge wardrobe closets that I bought for her. They are full of outfits that we have purchased together. Right now, I am only interested in two of the closets. I walk over to one of them and open the door. What kind of outfit do I want? Let’s see. Amy forgot to call me mommy. She’s my little girl. Alright, I see something that will do the job. I pull out a cute little dress. It’s pink with big white polka dots on it. It has a fabric belt around the waist that ties into a bow in the front. It’s sleeveless and has a V-neck neckline. I place it on the bed then walk over to her dresser. I open the sock and underwear draw. I grab a pair of short socks that have pink ruffles on the tops of them. They match the dress perfectly. I pick up two different packs of cartoonish underwear for girls ages 6 to 8. Pretty Princesses or Tinker Fairies? I see a light pink pair in the fairy package and take them out. I hold them up and there is a little fairy on the front and a bigger one on the back. Amy is going to look so cute in these. I place the panties at the bottom of the dress on the bed and put the socks under that. I take a look at the outfit and remember when we bought it.

O.k., I’ll admit it. I’m a shopaholic. I just love to buy things. Especially clothes. It happened about five years ago when I started my own business. I sell upscale handbags on the web. And I make a fortune doing it. I met my husband and Amy when she was twelve years old. She was so out of control back then. Her father was depressed from the divorce and didn’t care what she did. I had to start spanking her before we even got married. She was very defiant back in those days. She hated me, probably still does. I would spank her and spank her and she would still have an attitude. No matter how many times I would redden her butt, she would still get into trouble. I almost gave up on her. The only time we bonded is when I took her shopping. She loves to go shopping. Well, half the time anyway.

One day, when Amy was thirteen, I took her shopping at a big clothing store. She was looking at these shirts that I thought were way too inappropriate for girls her age. They had all these raunchy sayings on them. I looked across the aisle and saw some very pretty dresses. I suggested we should take a look at them. She said ‘No, those are for babies’ real snotty. I told her to mind her manners or she would be in for a firey bottom when we got home. She didn’t seem to care and went on talking.

“I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a teenager now. I’ll wear what I want.”
“Nonsense girl, I’m the one who buys your clothes so I’m the one who decides what you wear.”

I grabbed her hand and started for the other side of the aisle. She tried to resist. I pulled her along with me until we got there. She was putting up such a fuss. She really hated those pretty dresses. That’s when I got an incredible idea.

“You really don’t like these clothes, do you?”
“No, everybody at school will laugh at me.”
“That’s going to be the least of your problems from now on. I think we are going to find a beautiful dress and some brand spankin’ new panties and see how you look in them. Ahh, what a cute little girl you are going to be.”
“No, please don’t make me do that. I’ll be good.”
“Too late for that now. And after you change into your new clothes I am going to spank you like I’ve never spanked you before.”

Amy started to stomp her feet like a child. I reached over her and slapped her on the butt.

“You want me to do this right here and now, in this store. I’ll have you change and come back out here. Then I’ll bend you over so everybody can see your little panty clad behind. Oh. and the noise. First the sounds made by my hands spanking your disobedient ass and then the cries that will follow. You’ll draw a wonderful crowd in no time. Is that what you want?”

“No, mama, no!! Please don’t do that.”

“Well then, I suggest you help me pick out one of these pretty, pretty dresses.”

After picking the dress, we headed over to the underwear section. Amy did not look happy. I held up various packages and put into a pile all the ones she shook her head no to. When there were five packs I handed them to her.

“Mom, these are the ones I didn’t want. I don’t want to wear little kids underwear”
“I know. That’s why I am buying them. You are going to be changing your clothes before I spank you from now on. If you don’t want to wear them, then don’t misbehave.”

Amy looked really sad. I could tell that this was going to work. Next we went over to the beauty department. I found a hair band with a small bow on it. It was pink and covered with small white dots. It will go good with the dress. Lastly, I went to the aisle with the hair products.

“Amy, help me pick out your new hairbrush.”
“But I already have some hairbrushes.”
“Those are all made of plastic. We need a strong wooden one.”

She looked at me puzzled. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a brush that was colored red. I went over and picked it up. It was painted to look like a ladybug from the back. I showed it to Amy.

“How ’bout this one.”

She liked it. We headed to the register to pay and go home. At home I told Amy to go change and meet me in the living room in fifteen minutes. She put her head down and walked up the stairs. I sat down on the couch. I started to think about all the new possibilities. I could take her shopping for embarrassing outfits every time I was going to spank her. Yes, what an excellent excuse to go shopping. Maybe different outfits for certain misbehaviors. I was getting excited just thinking about it.

Just then, Amy came walking down the stairs. She looked just like an eight year old girl. She was very unhappy. She looked like she wanted to cry. She dragged her feet and stood in front of me. I reached up with both my hands and pinched her cheeks.

“You are such a cutie. I just want to eat you up.” I joked.

I could tell that this was very humiliating for her. Good. If this is what works, so be it.

“Lift up your dress so I can see those pretty little panties.”
“Mom, this is so uncomfortable. Do I really have to do this?”
“Yes. And when you are dressed like this you will call me mommy. When you are dressed like a little girl you will act like a little girl. Now pull up your dress.”

She slowly pulled up her dress. She had chosen a white cotton pair with small multi-colored balloons spread out across the front and back.

“Turn around. I want to see that tush.”

The little underwear clung tightly to her behind. What a sight. I made her stand there like that for a couple of minutes.

“How old are you?”
“How old do you feel right now?”
“That’s right. I want you to remember this the next time you think about getting into trouble. Because next time we’ll be going to the mall. Maybe we’ll run in to some of your friends. What do you think about that?”

I didn’t wait for an answer. I pulled her over my lap and brought my hand down hard. I didn’t stop until I saw the redness from her bottom coming through the thin material of her panties. I pulled her underwear down to get a better look. Yup, nice and red.

“Mommy’s got a surprise for you. Can you guess what it is?”

I picked up the ladybug hairbrush and swung it down right in the middle of her left cheek. I did it again to the right cheek. I struck her six more times in different areas. As the last one landed, I noticed that her butt matched the pattern on the back of the hairbrush. Very red, with dark splotches evenly spaced out. I chuckled to myself, then continued. Since this was Amy’s first hairbrush spanking I didn’t go on too long. Three minutes, maybe more. I was concentrating so hard at the task at hand that I didn’t hear a word she said. All I heard now was a loud pitchy wail.

“How old do you feel NOW?”
“S S Six.”
“Good. I think we are are done here then. I want you to go stand in the corner until your father comes home. I want him to see what a pretty little girl you are.”

I followed her over to the corner. I told her to put her hands straight up and then reach back over her shoulders. I lifted the dress up and placed it in her hands.

“This is how you are going to do corner time when you are wearing a dress. You better not drop it or you’ll get double of what you just got.”

I reached down and straightened out her panties. I pulled the middle part down so it was just below her knees. I took a step back and admired my work.Yes, this was going to work out just fine.

“Honey, we’re going to be late for the auction.” I hear my husband call from downstairs.
“Coming, dear.”

I walk downstairs and find Amy in the kitchen.

“I left something on your bed. You better be wearing it and in the corner by the time I get home tonight.”

There’s that look again. Priceless

TEMPORAL MECHANICS” by the Crimson Kid

TEMPORAL MECHANICS” by the Crimson Kid


Krista Jackson’s brow furrowed as she addressed her training partner, who was seated next to her on the short couch in her dormitory room. “Come on, Ollie, you know that the past is inelastic. You’re in training to become a temporal investigator, aren’t you?”

Twenty-year-old Oliver Madison chewed his lower lip. “Well, not exactly,” he murmured. “It’s primarily inelastic, but apparently insignificant events can be modified slightly, as long as the overall timeline isn’t affected.”

He was rather short, trim yet possessing a firmly-toned musculature, featuring an unusual combination of jet black hair, blue-gray eyes and pale skin. Although he was half-a-foot shorter than the blonde, athletic-looking twenty-two-year-old he partnered for, the young man’s facial features were chiseled enough to make him attractive to her—she especially appreciated his dark, slim moustache, feeling that it gave him a slight ‘bad boy’ look. Since his role in the woman’s training was to simulate someone who’d engaged in societally unacceptable behavior, him looking the part—at least via her perception—was therefore advantageous.

“So we could actually change something in the life of that schoolboy, the one from four hundred years ago whose diary you have a transcript of, huh?” Krista demanded cheerily. Her cornflower blue eyes sparkled with devilish excitement, making it difficult for her partner not to become hopelessly lost in them—she was quite a pretty female, in a perky, head-cheerleader way, and those wide, bright eyes were arguably her best feature.

He cleared his throat. “First of all, for a male it would be called a ‘journal’ rather than a ‘diary’ back then. Secondly, and more importantly, you’re not certified for even probationary time travel, as I am—but even I’d require the accompaniment of someone with full temporal certification, as a fail-safe in case of a problem occurring.”

The blonde pouted playfully. “You’re certified in all but a formal sense, you’ve told me that yourself, Ollie, and you have access to the temporal mechanics laboratory. Couldn’t you get permission to take me along with you for educational purposes?”

Oliver licked his lips. “No, I don’t think so—that would be highly irregular, my supervising teacher is unlikely to approve.”

“That’s Instructor Jefferson, isn’t it?” She queried.

He nodded curtly. “Kyle Jefferson, right. Do you know him?”

Krista laughed lightly. “We’ve spoken in passing on a few occasions. He seems to appreciate the way my unisuit fits me, especially the way it clings to my curvy butt.”

“That sounds like him, all right,” her partner conceded, although he could hardly fault his supervisor for feeling that way; after all, the young lady did have an extremely attractive albeit rather opulent derriere, which was cutely accentuated by the official scarlet outfit which was, like his, effectively a uniform denoting her educational field and degree of progress.

Her chuckle sounded like a bell chime. “Speaking of rotund rear ends, dear boy, we need to get down to business for this practice session. I’ll be employing a brand-spanking-new implement today, relative to my ‘Corporal Punishment in History’ course—it’s called a razor strop, and I’ve been informed that it packs a wicked sting.” She snickered. “I’m impatient to check out your reaction to it, Ollie, so please stand up and I’ll happily lower your breezebottom for you.”

“I’m sure you will.” He reluctantly obeyed, reminding himself of the tuition reduction that he’d received for accepting the ‘invitation’ of the local Spankmistress Corps to become a training partner for one of its apprentices. The prerecorded communication he’d received, from the Spankmistress General herself, had claimed that being chosen for such a service was an honor, based on his posterior’s functionality as a target for her practicing, plus his tolerance for intensive punishment being applied to it.

His charcoal gray, body-hugging unisuit, like all such outfits, had a small black circle, commonly called an “oopsie,” below his waist and directly above the top of his buttcrack. Once his smiling colleague had touched it with her finger, the seat flap of his unisuit, referred to as a “breezebottom,” was released from its connection with the rest of his clothing at its top and sides. Her fingers deftly pulled it downward to reveal the alabaster, firmly-rounded buttcheeks of her partner, watching with satisfaction as its upper edge, having momentarily become its lower one, automatically attached itself to the outfit’s material at lower thigh level.

“Oopsie, look at that,” Krista giggled. “Somebody’s bare bottom is out in the breeze, which means that it needs to be spanked very long and hard—this is a job for Spankmistess Apprentice Krista Jackson!” For some reason, repeating that silly saying just before administering corporal correction seemed to make every member of the Spankmistress Corps smugly pleased with herself, even the fiftyish Spankmistresses who’d made that same basic punishment-promising pronouncement tens of thousands of times.

Her immediate victim shuddered, knowing that she took her practice sessions very seriously, much to his behind’s blazing detriment, in spite of the apparent frivolity she exuded beforehand. “Which position do you wish me to assume?” he demanded by rote.

Rising to her feet, the amazon reached into her official equipment bag, which lay open atop the side table, and took out an instrument of corporal connection made of slick, pliable brown leather with a crimson handle of corrugated rubber—its striking length was eighteen inches long, almost three inches wide and three-eighths of an inch thick. Gripping its handle tightly in her right hand, she pointed at the couch’s round, well-padded arm to the anxious male’s left.

“Punishment position six, bending far forward,” she stated calmly. “Stick your hind end way up, please, I’ll want wide-open access to those tender undercheeks of yours.”

“Certainly, sweetheart.” Oliver grudgingly bent over the couch arm, obediently stretching his body onto the couch’s seat so that his gray-framed nether moons were pushed upward toward the ceiling. The hundreds of true chastisements which he’d received from certified Spankmistresses since his fifth birthday had taught him that failure to comply with their commands, both quickly and completely, would result in the extension and intensification of his discipline at their hands—an approach which Krista also practiced.

He felt the strop’s smooth, cool surface tap the ‘sit spots’ at the base of his exposed posterior as the trainee disciplinarian took aim, then adjusted her stance for a full arm’s-length swing with her leather punitive implement. “I can’t require you to address me as ‘ma’am,’ the way you’ll have to once I’m certified as a Spankmistress, but I can extend this practice session for your flippancy toward me,” she informed the vulnerable young man. “You won’t be thinking of me as your sweetheart, dear boy, while you’re getting a truly thorough hiding with this seriously severe strap. Take a deep breath, my sassy spankybuns, because for you it’s crying time!”

The Spankmistress-in-training proved herself to be both a proficient ass-thrasher and a reliable prophet once her practice session with the razor strop was underway. Focusing her chastising attentions on the plump ‘sit spots’ of those rounded twin targets being provided by her spankee, she delivered a resolute and steady strapping which eventually broke him down into a shamelessly blubbering little boy. Although Oliver attempted to restrict his reactions to being severely strapped atop his naked buttock rounds, his spanker held an overwhelming advantage over him, physically and also psychologically, which she pressed relentlessly to make him gasp, then yelp, then sob, then wail, then finally howl as his hindquarters squirmed under the extended leathering they underwent.

Afterward, as she massaged ‘softskin’ lotion onto the roughened, fiery-looking surface of her prone, sniffling victim’s nether moons, while kneeling atop his lower back, the apprentice sighed with self-satisfac

“Yuh-You ehnn-joy your trah-training too muh-much,” he noted cynically, even as his ravaged rump felt soothed by her hands’ caring touch.

She tittered. “Oh, you’re just upset that I made you bawl like a baby, like I always do during a practice session.” Her palm patted his throbbing backside. “I’ve got an excellent idea for a temporal excursion we can take together, based on that diary’s account, one that will be enlightening for us both—Instructor Jefferson will have to be convinced to allow it, but you can leave that little detail up to me…”

Three days later in the extremely early morning, while they were lying, supine and side-by-side, on the divans which were contained within one of the flux fields in the temporal mechanics laboratory, Oliver addressed his fellow student bluntly. “Tell me that you didn’t have sex with him to seal this deal, at least.”

Her chortle sounded mischievous to him. “No, I didn’t really, but he does expect something along that line sometime soon. He was quite helpful in programming the temporal travel mechanism to send us precisely where we need to go, then to retrieve us at the proper moment, based on the journal’s information and his knowledge of the early twentieth century.”

The young man snorted. “I wasn’t here when it happened, so I’ll have to trust your influence over the guy. We’ll only be changing one minor aspect of the past, righting a wrong which was perpetrated against Reginald Lincoln by his stepsister Sheila, according to his journal entry. You’ll be occupying her body, which will allow you to access her memories and basic behavior patterns, so all you’ll have to do is make the girl confess to setting up her stepbrother for a switching in school.” He paused in contemplation. “If the timing has been set up properly, your consciousness should return here in time to avoid experiencing Sheila’s punishment.”

Krista’s eyes flashed with secret knowledge. “Your awareness will remain in Reginald’s body for fifteen minutes after that, long enough for you to watch his manipulative stepsister get her naked hiney whipped with a birch rod by their teacher, Miss Bismarck, right in front of their entire class. I’ll want a detailed report for the research assignment I’m doing based on this, so pay close attention.”

Her co-conspirator’s grin was wry. “Witnessing someone else, in fact a pretty fifteen-year-old girl, on the receiving end of some sound corporal correction for a change, I believe that I can handle that concept without much trouble.”

Krista smiled broadly. “Then engage the traveler, let’s see how temporal mechanics will actually work…”

Three and a half hours later, the blonde’s consciousness returned from the year 1912, within the rural small town in Iowa where she’d been involved in intriguing events while occupying the body of Sheila Lincoln, only to be galvanized by the sound and sight of an emphatic fanny-tanning which was taking place in the laboratory.

Bent over the back of a hovering magnachair, his hands desperately gripping its front edges, was a bland-looking thirtyish man, whose fairly long hair and over-brimming eyes were both medium brown in color. The stocky, somewhat short male was wearing the field gray unisuit of a junior faculty member in the Temporal Mechanics Department, with its ‘breezebottom’ lowered to expose an upthrust pair of meaty buttcheeks which were already cherry red, yet steadily darkening in coloration.

Wielding a vicious-looking, two-feet-long school strap in administering a highly hurtful hiding to the continuously weeping, wailing teacher was a fortyish dark brunette, one who matched Krista’s height but was quite a bit more buxom and strong-looking. The early-middle-aged woman’s face, which was handsome rather than pretty, bore a determined expression as she continued to crack her flashing instrument of corporal chastisement across the base of her hapless victim’s squirming backside—its hue was approaching that of his punisher’s unisuit, which was the deep magenta of an officer in the Spankmistress Corps.

The feminine disciplinarian glanced briefly at the young lady who had slipped off the divan her body had been lying atop, but without interrupting the sizzling punishment she was in the process of delivering. The dumbstruck observer watched mutely, feeling dread and fascination in equal parts, as the strict correction continued for another six minutes, by which time its recipient was blubbering like a maternally-spanked toddler while his unprotected posterior was exhibiting an outraged, reddish-purple glow.

The woman was well known to Krista, of course—Amelia Jackson, her aunt, academic advisor and personal mentor, and as a lieutenant colonel in the Spankmistress Corps, its highest-ranking faculty associate on campus. The sobbing man, whose ‘oopsie’ she was pressing just before re-covering his ravaged rump with the released ‘breezebottom’ flap, was also recognizable to the inadvertent witness of his severe shellacking—Kyle Jefferson, the instructor in temporal mechanics whom she’d convinced to let her and Oliver bypass the department’s regulations.

“I’ll be contacting you shortly about scheduling three further sessions of severe chastisement, Instructor Jefferson,” Amelia stated bluntly. “I’m going to give you recovery periods of two days between ass-thrashings, and that’s being generous of my part, considering your transgressions.” Her right hand patted the whimpering male’s tear-streaked face. “You let my pretty young niece manipulate you by sashaying her sweet little bumcheeks at you, pretending that you might get a piece of them, but you didn’t explain enough temporal mechanics to her—she knew how to alter the mechanism’s settings, but not the effect it would have in present time. Don’t worry though, her cute caboose will be getting its due attention right away—just not from you.”

Kyle’s head nodded. “Yeh-Yes, ma’am, Madame Spankmistress…Thuh-Thank you for spah-spanking my naughty bare bottom to may-make me become a better citizen, ma’am.”

The officer beamed. “You’re most welcome. Now be on your way for the moment, I’ll be in touch with you very soon.” She turned to face her niece, who was trembling with trepidation. “Oh, your discipline isn’t going to be quite that severe, Krista dear, but it will be plenty enough to leave a lasting impression on your behind, and hopefully your mind too. However, let’s have a friendly little talk first…”

When Oliver’s awareness returned to his twenty-fourth-century body, his partner in temporal journeying was bent across her aunt’s wide lap, with her unisuit’s ‘breezebottom’ in its so-called “down position” and a sturdy, half-inch-thick lexanite paddle steadily smacking her naked hiney’s sensitive underbuns with great expertise. The blonde was crying continuously as her broad, bouncy behind reddened brilliantly while her feet kicked with frantic futility. He was able to observe the final four minutes of the punitive session while seated on his divan. He knew that the Spankmistess General herself wasn’t immune to earned chastisement, but until then he’d never seen even an apprentice in the Corps being walloped.

Although sobbing raggedly as she was helped back to her feet, Krista nonetheless flashed a sly smirk at the witness to her discipline. “Heh-Hello, Ollie, weh-welcome back. Muh-My little trick wah-worked fine in the p-past, but I meh-essed up on my knowledge of tuh-temporal mechanics.”

Her aunt chuckled softly. “Here, sweetie, let me give your shining seat some coverage—your cohort here has gotten a pretty good gander at it already, he’s seen enough.”

“Thuh-Thank you for spanking my naughty bah-bare bottom, Madame Spankmistress, to may-make me become a better citizen, ma’am.” Speaking those words immediately following the restoration of her rearward modesty, Krista ruefully realized that they would be much more enjoyable to hear from someone else whom she’d disciplined.

The older female’s hazel eyes danced merrily. “You’ll be getting one more session in three days’ time, Krista, I’ll contact you about it later. Meanwhile, just wait quietly while I discuss the error of his ways with your partner in mischief.”

The apprentice sniffled. “Oh-Okay, Auntie.”

Amelia’s gaze met her next correction recipient as she beckoned him to approach her. “Come over here, young man, I’m going to bare your chubby caboose for you before we have our quick conversation—then I’ll want you in ‘punishment position three’ over that chair’s back for a very lengthy encounter with my rubber strap.” Thirty seconds later, Oliver was standing bare-assed and facing the disciplinarian while Krista, at her aunt’s direction, stood behind him and moderately slapped the pliable punitive implement against his quivering buttock rounds. (“That should help him maintain awareness of an impending event,” the Spankmistress had explained.)

“The timing was wrong,” the nervous male complained, “Not to mention that I was double-crossed by Krista.”

The mature woman’s expression was amused. “So she’s told me…Not only did she refrain from confessing to the crime that the girl whose body she was occupying had committed, so that your fourteen-year-old boy was given a harsh birching on his naked fanny in front of his classmates, which you fully experienced while in his body.”

He moaned. “Putting a snake in the teacher’s desk, that was simply considered a boy-type prank—that’s why she took Sheila’s word over Reginald’s. Damn, was she ever angry at me—or him, whatever.”

At a wink from Amelia, her niece increased both the force and tempo of the smacks she was applying to her partner’s exposed posterior, making them land at three-second intervals with medium intensity.

“These smacks are just to remind you of what’s upcoming for that foolishly risk-taking bare bottom of yours,” she announced in response to his soft gasps. “Krista was clever in reprogramming the time-traveling mechanism to keep you in the past for an additional two hours, which gave her time to have Sheila tell her mother about Reginald’s supposed misconduct in school after they’d gotten back home.” Her chortle reflected admiration for the younger woman’s precise planning. “So his stepmother took Reginald out to their woodshed and gave him a pants-down licking with the razor strop—which Sheila was allowed to watch, as a reward for tattling on him for an offense which she’d actually committed.”

Krista dimpled in delight. “It was really awesome, Auntie, did she ever blister that boy’s bare rear end—it was glowing a dark violet-red afterward. I was transported back to the present just a moment after it was over, so I’d timed it perfectly. I’m not certain that Ollie, stuck in Reginald’s body while he bawled like a baby, enjoyed it all that much though.”

Her aunt’s smile was smug. “I’m certain that he didn’t, even though you two did demonstrate the slight elasticity of past events, since Reginald ended up being spanked twice due to your intervention. Of course, dear girl, you didn’t understand that you’d end up staying in stasis for two more hours in the present, while your conscious awareness was still occupying Sheila’s body back then—the same for Oliver in Reginald’s body, except for an extra fifteen minutes.”

Still cracking the rubber implement across her training partner’s naked buttcheeks, but then with fairly hard strokes which were making him gasp, the young lady sighed ruefully. “So I didn’t get back, my consciousness anyway, until eight o’clock this morning, and our unauthorized use of the mechanism must’ve been reported by some early-bird student who spotted our bodies on the divans—my not understanding temporal mechanics well enough, that’s what got all of us in this trouble.”

“Speaking of which, I believe that it’s time for your cohort in rule-breaking to get ready for an exceptionally sound hiding, since you’ve given him such a nice warmup with that rubber seat-striper. Please hand it back to me, Krista, while I’d like you to assume your punishment position over the chair’s back, Oliver, and get that pale, precious rear of yours pointed at the ceiling.” The Spankmistress quickly moved into position, the handle of her corrective implement grasped in her right hand, to administer a lengthy, highly hurtful chastisement.

Her niece beamed at the confident disciplinarian. “Thank you for letting me observe Ollie getting his just desserts, Auntie.”

Amelia raised the strap to strike downward. “He’ll be getting another two butt-blisterings later on this week, and you’re welcome to witness those as well—in fact, you can help me scorch his seat, since I’d like to see how effective you’ve become in your training.”

The blonde tittered. “That’s a deal then.”

THWAACK!! CRACK!! SPLACK!! THWAACK!! The stinging-hot licks of firm-yet-flexible rubber began emphatically impacting against Oliver’s vulnerable undercheeks, much to his pained dismay, as a dedicated member of the Spankmistress Corps once again performed her sworn duty…

{The End}

Saturday Morning Cartoons

Saturday Morning Cartoons
by manicrooster

I had some free time last Saturday morning and I decided to relax and watch some TV. I was flipping through the channel guide and I noticed that there weren’t many cartoons on anymore. When I was I kid, Saturday mornings were my favorite time of the week. I actually woke up early and was excited. I hated getting up early to go to school. There were so many cartoons on every channel that it was hard to decide which ones to watch. This reminded me of a memory from my childhood. Let’s go back in time.

I woke up and ran downstairs. I turned on the TV and switched the channel to one of my favorite shows. I went into the kitchen and got a box of cereal and a bowl. Then I went to the refrigerator for a gallon of milk. I brought everything into the living room and set it on the table. I poured the cereal into the bowl and filled it with milk. Just then, my little sister comes running down the stairs.

“What’s up, sleepyhead?” I say.
“Nothin’, stupid.” she says.”Whatcha’ watchin’ ?”
“My favorite cartoon.” I answer.
“Well, I get to watch mine next.” And she stuck out her tongue.
“Yeah, right.” I said sarcastically.
“Come on, we have to take turns.” she begged.
“Says who?” I ask.
“NO FAIR!” she yells.
“Shhh. You’re going to wake mom up. Go into the kitchen and get a bowl so you can eat some breakfast. I’ll think about it.” I tell her.

She stomps off to the kitchen. Mindy comes back with a bowl and I pour her some cereal and milk. We watch the rest off the show. When it ends she reaches for the remote control.
I quickly grab it at the same time.

“Let go.” she says.
“You let go.” I say.

We struggle with the remote and start to yell and scream at each other. I guess my mother heard us because she came down the stairs. In our struggle we knock over the container of milk. It spills on to the floor, all over the carpet. My mother rushes over to pick it up.

“You,” she looks at me, “Over there.” She points to a corner in the room.
“You,” she looks at my sister, “In that one.” she points to another corner.

She goes into the kitchen to get some towels. She places them on top of the spill and starts to rub the carpet.

“You two better hope that this comes up.” she says.

She sits down on the couch and calls my sister over. Mindy slowly turns around and walks over to her.

“Do you see what happens when you two fight?” our mother asks.

“But mommy, it wasn’t my fault. Bobby wouldn’t let me watch my show.” Mindy says.

“I don’t care. That doesn’t mean you should start yelling and screaming. If you think your brother is being unfair, you come and talk to me.” she explains.

“But, you were sleeping.” she says.

“Then you two need to learn how to cooperate. I’m not always going to be around to stop all this fighting. Now, I want you to pull down your pajama bottoms. You are both getting a spanking.” she announces.

“No mommy, please. I’m sorry.” my sister pleads.

My mother reaches around her waist and pulls her PJs down for her.

“Over” she says.

Mindy bends over and tries to touch the floor with her hands. She is just small enough that neither her feet nor her hands can reach the carpet. Then the spanking starts.

You SMACK are going SMACK to stop SMACK fighting SMACK with you brother SMACK. You SMACK are going SMACK to learn SMACK how to SMACK work things SMACK out SMACK with him. SMACK I don’t SMACK want to SMACK have to SMACK do this SMACK again. SMACK

I hear my sister getting spanked and I feel a little joy. Then I feel some dread because I am next.

“Up” my mother says to my sister, ” Take off your pants”

She stands up and rubs the tears out of her eyes. Then she takes off her bottoms. She’s standing there in a purple top and My Little Pony underwear.

“I want you to go upstairs in my room and bring me back the hairbrush that is on my vanity.” she tells her. WHAAA . Fresh whines come out of my sister.

“Move it!”

Mindy does as she is told. She hands it over to our mom and starts babbling please…don’t…sorry.

“Honey, it’s ok. Go back to the corner. Mommy is finished with you now.” she comforts her.
“Bobby, come over here” she says to me,”You are older and you should know better. That’s why YOU are getting the hairbrush.”

“But moooom, she started it.” I whine.
“Doesn’t matter. You need to help me out with her. I can’t do it all by myself.” she explains.
“But, I just wanted to watch cartoons. She’s the one who made all the noise.” I tell her.
“I don’t want to hear anymore.” she says, and pulls my pajamas down.

I stood there shocked because my Batman underpants came down with them. My mom had a shocked look on her face too. Then her face turned angry again and she said, “Over” I had never gotten a bare bottom spanking before. I have seen my sister get them, rarely. I think it made her uncomfortable with me, though. I bent over her knees. I was big enough to touch the floor with both my hands and feet.

WHAP You are WHAP going to WHAP be more WHAP responsible. WHAP You are WHAP going to WHAP learn how WHAP to share. WHAP I will WHAP not WHAP put up WHAP with this WHAP anymore. WHAP

She started right with the hairbrush. No warm up. It stung so bad. I don’t usually cry during a spanking but I was about to. And when I did my mother stopped and said, “Up”. I stood up and immediately rubbed my butt.

“I’m sorry, mom. I’ll be more responsible. I’ll behave.” I promised.
“Good. Now, go back to the corner. In fifteen minutes you two are going to scrub this carpet.” she said.

And sure enough, a little later, there was me (in a blue pajama top and Batman underwear) and my sister (in her purple top and My Little Pony panties) scrubbing the floor with scrub brushes and soap, still sniffling.

I remember watching a lot of girly cartoons after that because of my sister. I guess it was fair. We took turns. I got into other interests a couple of years later. So she had the TV all to herself for awhile. Except for the times I had to babysit her. She could be such a brat.

Ah, another memory. Maybe next time.

I just realized, I have cried over spilled milk. LOL

The End

I added the hairbrush and bare bottom to this true story.