caring mom and bedwetting daughter Fear of Missing Out (Ch. 23 posted 4/30/20)

[Sarah Penguin]

[gpboy]

I just discovered this wonderful and wonderfully written story and am now caught up.  It and Angela's comments make me wonder if any of Angela's life or her excellent stories inspired any of this.  I agree wholeheartedly with her opinion and anticipation.

I must admit this also hits home with me on many  points as well, especially now that unknowing loss of bladder control during the spanking and the subsequent embarrassment associated with that has become an element in the story.  I can't wait to see where this goes.  I feel there can be considerable psychological ramifications to this that could be explored.

I identify strongly with Abby in many ways, despite our different genders,.  I'm now in a similar (initially) self-imposed situation that has gotten somewhat beyond my original intention but all so much to my benefit that I would not withdraw consent.

In the chapter of Abby's two weeks of "sort of" good behavior she was in a snippy, cussing mood that turned around after her mother, applying the three-strike rule of point out, remind of the inevitable penalty, follow through, spanked her lightly.  Abby wondered if that was what made her feel better.  This revelation has just happened to me where I unexpectedly she a pissy attitude after it was adjusted with a spanking.  I'm amazed at the similarities.

Thank you.

[Angela Bauer]

3 hours ago, gpboy said:

I just discovered this wonderful and wonderfully written story and am now caught up.  It and Angela's comments make me wonder if any of Angela's life or her excellent stories inspired any of this.  I agree wholeheartedly with her opinion and anticipation.

I must admit this also hits home with me on many  points as well, especially now that unknowing loss of bladder control during the spanking and the subsequent embarrassment associated with that has become an element in the story.  I can't wait to see where this goes.  I feel there can be considerable psychological ramifications to this that could be explored.

I identify strongly with Abby in many ways, despite our different genders,.  I'm now in a similar (initially) self-imposed situation that has gotten somewhat beyond my original intention but all so much to my benefit that I would not withdraw consent.

In the chapter of Abby's two weeks of "sort of" good behavior she was in a snippy, cussing mood that turned around after her mother, applying the three-strike rule of point out, remind of the inevitable penalty, follow through, spanked her lightly.  Abby wondered if that was what made her feel better.  This revelation has just happened to me where I unexpectedly she a pissy attitude after it was adjusted with a spanking.  I'm amazed at the similarities.

Thank you.

Hi GP Boy,

It is marvelous to communicate with a fellow fan of Author Alex and his story FEAR OF MISSING OUT. I claim absolutely no credit for this.

What I have encountered over the years I have communicated about urinary incontinence, adult spanking and ABDL is that hundreds of men and women have similar experiences to mine. Most never have written about this for a variety of reasons. A much smaller number have told me their history so that I could use that as the basis of my published stories.

In FEAR OF MISSING OUT Abby is the oldest sibling, about 8 years older than Emma. My older sister Penny is five years older than me and ten years older than our youngest sister Missy. All of us have significant urinary issues. Like Abby's mom Susan, our mother Alice and our father John had rejected using punishment well before their first child Penny was born in 1959. They were both born in the 1930's and were routinely spanked and paddled. Alice was spanked OTK with a hairbrush by her mother Vi at age 19 less than a month before she married John. Alice's youngest sister, Betsy, is nearly ten years younger. Vi spanked Betsy OTK, bare and with a hairbrush when she was in nursing school at age 20. Betsy decided she would base her parenting upon Vi and turned down many marriage proposals from good men who rejected spanking children. Willard always believed in appropriately spanking for serious misbehavior. Once Betst got to know Willard she married him.

As I said for years none of us were spanked or punished by Alice and John. Then in 1976 we had to move to Iowa for nearly a year. In Iowa students up to high school seniors were paddled or spanked. I turned 12, reached puberty and reverted to bedwetting before school resumed in Iowa in August 1976. Somehow I was the only sibling who did not receive CP in the Iowa schools.

When we moved back home in late May 1977, Betsy and Willard had bought the house across the street. Betsy, like Alice and Vi lacked any bladder control. Her oldest child, Carole, was 6, still with bladder control, but her brother Matthew, age 5, had never stopped bedwetting. Betsy never spanked for wetting, but she did for everything else, especially failure to cooperating while being diapered. Penny was than 18 and had graduated from high school in Iowa, where she was paddled more than 5 times. Penny became Betsy's primary babysitter. Eventually Penny made some mistake and was caught by Betsy. Penny decided to accept a spanking instead of being fired.

By then I realized I needed attitude adjustment, but I could not say that to Alice. Instead I went to Betsy and asked her to spank me as she spanked Penny and even young Carole, OTK, bare and with a hairbrush. Betsy said I was years over-due for a spanking. She protected her lap with an underpad and spanked me until I was sobbing, limp and wet the underpad. I felt better and my deportment improved. Many months later our mom Alice finally changed her mind about spanking. That is like Aunt Lisa influencing Susan, except Betsy is the younger sister. I must say when Alice did begin spanking she did so efficiently and hard. She taught me hard lessons until I left home for university at 17.

I've written about all this a lot, yet I have no reason to believe Author Alex has read any of my stories. Many of those are on the DD story page, not the story forum.

[Alex Bridges]

7 hours ago, gpboy said:

I just discovered this wonderful and wonderfully written story and am now caught up.  It and Angela's comments make me wonder if any of Angela's life or her excellent stories inspired any of this.  I agree wholeheartedly with her opinion and anticipation.

I must admit this also hits home with me on many  points as well, especially now that unknowing loss of bladder control during the spanking and the subsequent embarrassment associated with that has become an element in the story.  I can't wait to see where this goes.  I feel there can be considerable psychological ramifications to this that could be explored.

I identify strongly with Abby in many ways, despite our different genders,.  I'm now in a similar (initially) self-imposed situation that has gotten somewhat beyond my original intention but all so much to my benefit that I would not withdraw consent.

In the chapter of Abby's two weeks of "sort of" good behavior she was in a snippy, cussing mood that turned around after her mother, applying the three-strike rule of point out, remind of the inevitable penalty, follow through, spanked her lightly.  Abby wondered if that was what made her feel better.  This revelation has just happened to me where I unexpectedly she a pissy attitude after it was adjusted with a spanking.  I'm amazed at the similarities.

Thank you.

This story was inspired by a writer who goes by Peter242 on LushStories, and he’s published some books on Amazon as Peter Martin.

[Angela Bauer]

Happy Friday, Alex,

I see that a lot of DD members agree with me that this is a marvelous story. All of us appreciate the work you have put into creating it.

Is it possible that someday you will continue sharing about Abby, Susan, Lisa, Alie, et al?

Angela

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 11

 

I met Taylor, and it was awkward. It hung over us, and she finally just asked, “So you want to tell me what that was all about.”

My salad suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world, or you would have guessed it from how intently I stared at it. “Mom just wanted to talk about something.”

“Abby, c’mon.”

“Really,” I tried to beg off.

Taylor sat back and sighed loudly at me, her eyebrow raised. “I just want to know if you’re okay, alright?”

“I’m okay. There,” I said and took another bite.

“No. I wanna know what happened. Your mom can yell at you with me in the house. She’s done it before.”

“It’s your fault,” I said defensively. “You told her my grades were bad.”

“She had to lecture you about your grades right then?”

“No. I told her my grades were fine. She was pissed at me for lying.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Taylor said as she suddenly found her salad fascinating, too. Or at least it seemed like it until she asked, “But why did she have to talk about it right then?”

I don’t know why I didn’t just tell her directly to change the subject. I couldn’t think of a plausible lie, either, so I just tried to tell her a portion of the truth. “It’s her new thing. Not delaying when I’m in trouble, doing something about it right then.”

“Doing what?”

“Huh?”

“Doing what right then?”

“Lecturing me about it.”

Taylor looked around as if to see whether someone was listening to us, and before I could say no she slid into my side of the booth and said more quietly, “You’re lying to me.”

Technically I wasn’t. I just didn’t tell her about what happened in addition to the lecture. I decided not to dignify accusation with a response. But before I could take another bite, she put her hand over my wrist, and when I turned to look at her, she looked genuinely concerned.

“You’re scaring me a little, Abby. What happened that you won’t tell me about?”

“Nothing. God!”

“You didn’t tell me to leave your house so your mom could lecture you. So either it was more than a lecture or it was something else altogether ... Is it about your, other problem?”

Fuck my life, is what I was thinking right then. As if the morning hadn’t left me already feeling pathetic, my friend was assuming that best case scenario I had peed myself so badly I needed her to leave while I fixed it, which doesn’t even make sense, or that my mother was doing something horrible thing to me, which would have been the case except that I consented to it. Taylor can be like a dog with a vanilla Oreo. She’s not gonna let it go. 

“There’s nothing new with my problem,” I said cryptically.

“So, what then? Did your mom ...” And bear in mind Taylor had known my mom since we were teeny tiny kids. “... did she hit you,” Taylor asked just above a whisper.

“No,” I whispered, “she ... we have a new arrangement, okay?”

“No, not okay. If she’s ...”

“She’s not ... she’s ... you remember my Aunt Lisa?”

Taylor sat back again, so the answer to that would be a resounding yes. “The one who always talks down to you and wanted your mom to,” she said and then lowered her voice, “spank you?”

I just nodded in response.

“Then your mom is hitting you!”

“You don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?”

“I ... I asked for it,” I said almost inaudibly. I should’ve just told her I peed all over myself and needed to shower or something because that would have been less embarrassing. I’m sure I looked like the tomato wedge on the side of my plate. Admitting this was my idea was worse in a way that admitting I’d been spanked like a little kid an hour ago.

“No one deserves to be hit,” Taylor said, misunderstanding me. She seemed like she was ready to call social services or something.

“No ... literally, I ...” I put my forehead on my palm. “I literally asked for it, instead of being grounded this summer.” I was looking at the table, so I didn’t see the face Taylor made, but I can imagine it. That right eyebrow of hers arched, her lips pulled to the side, her eyes narrowed as she tried to process what I just said. I wanted to throw up, and I said nothing.

“But your mom ... I didn’t think she did that when you were growing up.” Growing up, you mean like less than a year ago?

“She didn’t.”

“Does she ... with Emma and Ryan?”

“No, absolutely not.” I was quick to defend my mom because I didn’t want Taylor to think Mom was the kind of person who hits kids. “It’s only because I asked for this ... arrangement.”

Taylor got up and moved back to her side of the booth and picked her fork back up. “I don’t understand,” she said after she’d taken another few bites. Well, neither did I. “You ... why would ... just why?”

“Because I agreed before coming home that I’d follow all the rules, and I didn’t wanna be grounded and miss out on stuff. Summer is only ten weeks long.”

“What if you had said no? Didn’t agree to the rules?”

“Then I’d have had to find an apartment or gotten a summer camp job or something. And then I wouldn’t have been able to watch Ryan and Emma all summer.” At least saying that out loud reassured me that I hadn’t been entirely stupid to agree to be subject to rules again. There was something for me in it, too.

“And you ...” Taylor paused with fork in midair. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What?”

“I guess it was, I mean if that’s your priority, not being grounded, kinda, well, thinking ahead. I mean, probably smart of you to think, well, that you’d be grounded a lot,” she tried so hard to say diplomatically.

I kinda took umbrage at that. “I didn’t think I’d be grounded a lot. Just, the summer is short, even once would be too much.”

Taylor laughed, actually laughed, at that. “Abby, come on, we both know you don’t have the best track record of not being grounded.”

“I can behave!”

“If you say so. So, like, was today the first time?”

“No.” And then I realized I really should’ve just shut up. The last time this became a topic of conversation beyond just me and Mom, I’d snapped at Aunt Lisa and gotten spanked in Allison’s bedroom.

“So ... how often?”

“Once or twice a week.” Oh my god, Abby, just shut up! That sounds like a lot, and it is.

Taylor shrugged. “What’s that supposed to mean?!?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Taylor said.

“You shrugged.”

“Just that I’m not entirely surprised.”

“Well, I am. I never would have brought it up with Mom if I thought she was going to really lean into it.”

“So why don’t you just stop?”

“Because then I’d miss out on seeing people all summer. Like today, Mom offered to ground me for two weeks instead.”

“Was it ... nevermind.”

“Oh, just freakin’ ask.” The can or box or whatever was open now.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels like a kitten walking across your butt.” Really, that was her question?

“Like, a lot?”

“Yes. It,” I stopped myself and took a breath, “yes, it hurts a lot.”

“So you’re kinda sore right now?”

“Taylor, seriously, if you’re concerned, that’s sweet. If you’re just curious, I’m going home.”

“Sorry,” she said, looking a little embarrassed now, “I’m just, I don’t know. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

“Neither had I until six weeks ago,” I said for some reason when I could have just ended the conversation there. I guess I really do have a hard time shutting up, but maybe I did need to unburden myself about this. “It was Allison’s idea.”

“Your cousin? Where’d she hear of it?”

“She has a similar arrangement with her mom.”

“No fucking way! Isn’t she, like, out of college now?”

“Yeah. But you cannot tell anyone I told you. She’d be so mad, and I’d get in so much trouble.”

“Our secret.” She sipped her water with a Cheshire Cat grin on her face. “I wouldn’t wanna be the reason you get your bottom spanked, again,” she quipped, lightheartedly, or at least she tried for it to come off that way.

“Shut up,” I said semi-lightheartedly back.

“So you’re not grounded to the house or anything today? I mean, obviously not.”

“No, that’s the way it works. Once it’s over, it’s over.”

“Can I ask one more question?”

“Sure,” I said as I sighed. This was so not what I thought we’d be talking about when I asked her to lunch.

“Do you think it’s helping?”

“Helping what?”

“Helping you to behave better. I mean, is it actually changing your behavior?”

“I ... I guess it depends on who you ask.”

“What do you think?”

“Maybe sometimes it gets me to think twice before I say something but overall, I don’t know. It really is just a way to be able to stay at home and not be grounded. So I guess that’s working. Mom seems ...” I had a hard time reading Mom lately. Since she started taking parenting advice from Aunt Lisa it had been hard to know what she was thinking and what she was just parroting. “Mom seems okay-ish with it. I guess it makes her feel in control enough. I mean, she’s not a control freak, but it really was important to her that I have rules for the summer and that she has a way of enforcing them.”

“Well, I hope it does help you mend your behavior a little.” She seemed to think for a moment. “But if that’s not important to you, I guess you could think of it like, I don’t know, like a transaction.”

“Huh?”

“You seem to be recovered, and it’s only been an hour and a half, right? So maybe sometimes there’s something you want to do that you know you’ll get in trouble for, and you can just decide whether it’s worth it ... think of it like a cover charge. Just something you pay off the top, and then you go have fun, except in reverse.”

“So you’re saying I should do what I want knowing I’ll get in trouble, if I want to badly enough?”

“If all that matters to you is getting to hang out this summer and not get grounded. Like you said, when it’s over, it’s over.”

An interesting take. “Is that what you think I should do?”

“I think you should stay out of trouble and try to learn from it, but maybe if you want something badly enough, just do it.”

“It’s less what I do than what I say,” I explained. “But maybe ... I don’t know, sometimes ... can I ask you something if I promise I won’t get mad?”

“Sure.”

“Do you really think I’m that poorly behaved?” Phrasing it that way embarrassed me,  but I wasn’t sure how else to. It made me sound like the kid Aunt Lisa always treated me as.

Taylor squirmed in her seat. “I think ... sometimes you don’t know when to just be quiet. You’ve always been ... quick to talk back. And you do, sometimes, make some choices I wouldn’t make.”

“Like what?”

“How many curfews did you miss? Or that time with Billy Frible.”

“We didn’t do anything!” Were people ever gonna let me forget that?

“I know, but you did stay out until, what, 3 in the morning?”

“We were just talking.”

“You got brought home by a cop.”

“Who found us talking.”

“I’m just saying, you could’ve just gotten home at midnight like you were supposed to, or at any point, ya know, before 3am.”

“You make it sound like I’m a problem child.”

“High spirited, is what my mom calls you.”

“That sounds better at least.”

“I just think your problem is always doing things without thinking about the consequences. Even if you do something knowing you’ll get in trouble and decide it’s worth it, you’ll at least have thought it through. I mean, if you could just be a little less impulsive.”

“I try,” I said truthfully. Sometimes it’s just harder than at others.

It only occurred to me later that day that Taylor wasn’t as shocked as I would’ve been if it were her. She didn’t grow up in a spanking household, either. Was she not shocked because she thought this was good for me? If so, that would basically make all the important people in my life unanimous on the idea that I still needed to have rules and boundaries and punishments for when I violate them, and this with my nineteenth birthday around the corner.

 

[Angela Bauer]

Wow, Alex,

Thanks for this new chapter, telling us more about Taylor.

Have a wonderful Labor Day Weekend.

Edited August 31, 2019 by Angela Bauer
fix typo

[Bluebird67]

If I could give more than one “like” to a single post, you would get two here! And I don’t generally like corporal punishment stories either. Once again, you have got us really involved with your characters and this chapter shows us so much more about Abby, both through her thoughts and through Taylor filling in her backstory.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Alex Bridges]

 

11 hours ago, Bluebird67 said:

If I could give more than one “like” to a single post, you would get two here! And I don’t generally like corporal punishment stories either. Once again, you have got us really involved with your characters and this chapter shows us so much more about Abby, both through her thoughts and through Taylor filling in her backstory.

Thank you!

[Jayme]

Another fantastic chapter. Hopefully Abby thinks more about what Taylor said and how it applies to her impulse control...

[Guilend]

I'm disappointed in Tylor. She didn't ask Abby the most important question in the whole wide world. Does she get excited when her mommy spanks her. Pfft! I'll just sneak into their house and see if I can find out myself, I'm sure they won't notice me peeping out of the closet? I might be in there a while, so better diaper up and bring a few bottles of juice to stay hydrated. 

 

I'm really enjoying this story.

[Little Andrea]

I can’t believe that I waited so long to read this, it’s very well written.

[Alex Bridges]

50 minutes ago, Little Andrea said:

I can’t believe that I waited so long to read this, it’s very well written.

Well of course it is! ?

Thank you ? 

 

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 12 (Abby)

 

 

“Do you need your attitude adjusted,” Mom asked me. She’d already adjusted my attitude once that morning.

“No. I just need to go lie down.”

“C’mere.”

“Mom! I just wanna go lie down,” I whined as I took a few steps toward her. So I was grumpy. I don’t think that deserved a swat.

“Just hold still.” Mom put her hand on my cheek and then my forehead. “You’re a little warm. How do you feel.”

“Oogy.”

“What doesn’t feel good?”

“Me.” I sorta kinda have a reputation as being pretty terrible at helping myself when I don’t feel well and generally being a big baby about it.

“Like, your tummy, or your head?”

“My head. And my throat is a little scratchy.”

“Go lay down, and I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

Just what I was thinking. Kinda of a miracle when you think about it, that I wasn’t exposed to children for months and then I was and I didn’t instantly get sick. I shuffled to my room with my water bottle, which I’d been taking everywhere lately, and sat down on top my covers. I should’ve changed them when I got home. As soft as they are, they’re too warm for summer time, so got back up, pulled them aside, and got back in, laying just on top of the sheets.

I flipped over. This sucked. It was worse than being grounded. Being sick basically is being grounded. Feeling like I could fall asleep, I got up and slowly stripped off my clothes, throwing them toward my laundry basket and mostly getting them there, but not all of them. Close enough. I opened my closet, went to my trunk, and frowned. I was out of my diapers, the ones I had bought. All I had were Goodnites and the ones Mom bought me. Sighing, I got one of the pink ones and put it on. I fished a top out of my dresser and a pair of my pajama shorts, got back in bed, and I think I was out in about five minutes.

Or at least that’s all I remembered until someone’s hand was on my forehead again. I thought naps are supposed to make you feel better. I woke up feeling worse, and that hand on my forehead was uncomfortable.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you feel?”

“Like…” I still had the good sense not to finish that sentence with the S-word. “Like I’m sick.”

Mom the Nurse took over. “Does this hurt,” she asked while pressing against my forehead.

“Yes.”

“How about here,” she asked as she probed around my ear.

“Hhhh!”

“I think you do have an ear infection.”

“And a sinus infection,” I added as I felt the pressure in my face. “I need to get up.”

“I think you should really stay where you are,” Mom said gently.

“No, I mean I need to get up.” Mom took my meaning and helped me up. When I was on my feet, I felt unsteady, and the change of position sent a wave of pressure through my sinuses that turned my headache from a dull ache to a splitting throb with each heartbeat.

When I was done in the bathroom and stood up, I bent over to pull my shorts up, and, to this day I swear I saw the floor move, rising up and to the right and then settling back down like the deck of a ship. I grabbed the edge of the sink and pivoted to wash my hands. I thought cold water on my face might help, but it only made me dizzier. I dried my face off, and when I let go of the towel, a voice in my head told me to get out of the bathroom before I fell and cracked my head on the edge of the tub or something.

I leaned against the door frame and called out, “Mom?”

“Yeah, baby.” Mom said as she emerged from my room. I guess she’s seen enough patients about to keel over because as soon she saw my leaning on the wall, she hopped over, and gave me her shoulder to lean on. She guided me back to bed, and when I got there, I fell forward onto it and rolled over. It seemed the safest way to sit down without missing the bed.

“Are you gonna throw up?”

“No, I’m just dizzy.”

“I think you definitely have an ear infection.”

“And a sinus infection.”

“I’ll call the doctor, but I think we need to take you to urgent care.”

“Can you see if they’ll just call something in?”

“I’ll try.” I started to sit up, and Mom scoffed at me, gently pushing me back down. “Where are you going?”

“I need my…” Whether because I was sick or because I pretty much always say what I’m thinking, I sighed, and said, “I need a diaper.”

“I’ll get it,” and while she was I started to sit back up. “What are you going now?”

“I need to put it on.”

“Don’t you do that lying down?”

“Standing up.”

“Well, not today you’re not. Just lay back down.”

“Mom …”

“Shush. I’m a nurse.”

“But…” It was a pretty pathetic protest because I was laying back as she said it.

“Besides, I’ve seen more of you in the past few weeks than the past ten years.”

 So I got diapered by Mom for the first time since, I’m guessing, I was probably 3 or 4, whenever she switched me to pullups at night. An hour later she came in to get me to take me to urgent care. I woke up to the sound of one of my drawers being closed.

“The doctor didn’t want to call something in without seeing you, so we gotta go to urgent care.”

“Where are Ryan and Emma?”

“Mrs. Ames is watching them.” Our next door neighbor.

“I need to change.”

“Already? It’s only been an hour.”

“No, I mean I need clothes.”

“Here,” she said, handing me a long shirt.”

“I … okay.” I didn’t have it in me to argue, so that’s how I went to urgent care: diaper, a pair of the shorts I wear to bed, and a tee shirt that reaches the middle of my thighs. I honestly didn’t care if anybody saw or heard. I just wanted those sweet, sweet antibiotics. I started feeling better by morning.

 

[Sarah Penguin]

I had an ear infection as an adult once and that hand's down the most pain I've ever been in even when I dislocated my knee and had to have my knee operated on.  At least the pain med for my knee worked the pain meds for my ears made the pain worse *cringes*   Poor girl.

[Guilend]

Great, she's sick. Now I can't make jokes or sexual innuendos about her mom diapering her.

 

I hope she feels better soon, maybe she'll start to enjoy the attention her mom gives her and start coming up with excuses to try and get her mom to change her once she's feeling better. Nothing to do with me wanting to make sexual innuendos, I swear, I'm innocent. 

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 13 (Abby)

 

 

“Stop,” Mom said to us. Ever been sick, and then when you’re better, you feel like you have all this extra energy to get out? Well, I did, and a day at Aunt Lisa’s pool was a great place for it. I’d been taking Ryan and Emma to the pool a lot that summer, and we always have a good time, almost always. Everyone gets bored of it once in a while, but we all enjoy the water, and something about it brings out the little kid in me sometimes. I roughhoused in the pool with the two of them, and even Allie joined in. We each put one of the kids on our shoulders and played Chicken. Mom didn’t so much appreciate that game. “Put them down.”

So we did, naturally. We took turns just tossing them in the water instead. Aunt Lisa felt the need to chime in with, “I don’t want to take any trips to the emergency room. If you’re going to play rough, do it in the middle of the pool … and don’t roll your eyes.” So we stopped. Or, I should say, we broke for lunch.

“C’mon, Emma,” I said as I set her back down on her feet in the pool. I had been about toss her, to her squeeing delight. Instead we got out, and I took the oversized beach towel with her initials on it – that had been one of our activities one day when she wasn’t at camp – and wrapped her up in it. She picked up this bad habit of mine of chewing on the corner of her beach towel, and I hoped she’d drop it younger than I had. We sat in a chair, her in my lap, and I combed her hair. No particular reason since we would most likely get back in the pool as soon as we were done with lunch. She is such a tiny thing.

Ryan, of course, needed no help drying off. I had a melancholy thought as I watched him help himself to some chips, one I’d noticed earlier in the pool. He was heavier than he was a year ago, and that’s because, as just watching him stand next to Allie reminded me, he’s not a little kid anymore.

Obviously every older sibling has younger siblings, and they babysit them some growing up. I don’t know what made me so attached to mine. It’s not like I ever thought of them as my own kids or anything. I did have to watch them more than any of my other friends with younger brothers and sisters had to watch theirs, but when they left for college, it didn’t seem like they felt quite as strongly as I did when I left. They weren’t as upset about it. That was the whole point of the summer, really. I wanted to spend it with them, so I worked out the arrangement with my Mom that she would pay me to babysit instead of sending them to camp all day every day, and I’d live at home. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t have cared much whether I lived at home or nearby for the summer, and Mom never would have said the old rules needed to apply, and I never would have, with Allison’s help, come up with the crazy notion that I’d trade grounding for spanking.

I still wasn’t positive Allison’s first mention of her arrangement with Aunt Lisa hadn’t been part of some coordinated effort to plant the idea in my head. I mean, Mom accepted it so readily. What she should have done is looked flabbergasted and told me never to say anything like that again. That would have been a reasonable response, the response a sane person would give. As for Aunt Lisa, I appreciated the talk she had with Mom after the credit card incident, not that I ever told her that or ever will, but that didn’t overcome years’ of condescension and whatever involvement, if any, she had in my current situation. Of course, that didn’t stop me from thanking her for lunch, which was very good. The funny thing was, if Aunt Lisa had just let us do our own thing after lunch, what happened almost certainly would not have happened. I don’t do “bored” well.

“Anyone wanna to play cards until we can get back in,” Aunt Lisa said as she produced an Uno deck. Emma and Ryan were in, as were Mom and Allie. Me, not so much.

“You know it’s a myth that you’re not supposed to swim for 45 minutes after you eat,” I said.

“It’s not a myth at my house,” Aunt Lisa replied, “In fact, it’s a rule.”

It is absolutely a myth. It’s practically the first thing you read when you look up “myth” on the internet. I was signed up for A History of Myth for the fall semester, and I looked forward to learning the history of that particular myth the first week of class. Anyway, I didn’t want to play Uno, so I grabbed my book and headed toward the stairs, intending to just lean against the wall and read. I got a toe in

“Abigail!” Naturally, Aunt Lisa.

“What?”

“Please get out. 45 minutes.”

“I thought that was just for the kids.” She gave a me a look that may as well have screamed you are one of the kids, but she didn’t say it.

“It’s for everybody.”

“Even for just leaning on the side?”

“Abby,” my mom stepped in, “just come sit for a bit.”

“Fine. Okay. No arguments from me,” I said as I got back out and dried off my toes (that part may have been me being a smartass, I admit). I mean, let’s review my aunt’s logic: I ate a sandwich, therefore my stomach required so much blood that my limbs would be unable to function if I attempted to swim. Or wade, actually. Not even wade. Lean on a wall while partly submerged. And then I’d sink beneath the flat calm of her pool and drown. This was her logic. I think this should be borne in mind for eternity the next time anyone says I’m the more unreasonable of the the two of us. But fine. Mildly irritating, that’s all. So I read on my towel instead of in the pool.

It wasn’t a very good book. Had it been a good book, I’d have been too engrossed in it to do what I did next. So really, there was a whole chain of events that led to what happened. It stretched back many years to when this author was writing this book; if only he had done a better job. It reached a pre-incident stage with Aunt Lisa telling me to get out of the pool.

It reached crisis a level when Allie walked innocently between me and the pool. I mean, who wouldn’t? I’d say it was a moral dilemma for about a tenth of a second. I just reached out with my foot and gave her a little tap. And I got a great, big splash for my trouble. Perhaps I could’ve gotten away with it if I hadn’t started laughing so hard.

“Abigail Marie!” Oh, shit.

“Um, she tripped,” I said to Mom.

“You’re really going to try fibbing right now? Inside.” I stood up.

“But Mom! It was just a joke.” That’s as far as I got in my argument when Allie resurfaced, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me in after her. When I came back up and pulled my hair out of my face, both Mom and Aunt Lisa were standing over us.

“Out,” Mom said. She had my towel in her hand.

“You too,” Aunt Lisa said to Allie.

“Mom,” I tried, “It was just a joke. I don’t deserve a …” I stopped myself and glanced at Allie, Aunt Lisa, and the kids. “Not for that!”

“A dangerous joke, and we both told you to stop roughhousing near the edge twice. Please get out.”

Allie was already on her way to the stairs. Well, since I was already in trouble, I just had to say it. “Are you sure it’s safe? I won’t get a food cramp and drown on the way?” Allie turned and looked at me like I was crazy. Mom looked at me like I had lost my mind. Oh, shit.

Mom handed me my towel as I got out. Aunt Lisa handed Allie hers.

“Inside,” Mom said.

“Both of you,” Aunt Lisa added.

“Mom, really,” Allie asked.

“You were told to stop roughhousing by the edge twice, too. All you had to do was get out, and instead you pulled her in.”

“But … okay,” Allie acquiesced. I wasn’t sure whether I respected her more or less for just giving in like that. She had a good argument to make about me starting it first. But she just took her towel and walked inside.

Nothing feels better than walking into air conditioning on a hot summer day, except when you’re wet. I was instantly a giant goose bump. Aunt Lisa called Ryan and Emma in behind us. Mom grabbed her purse and picked up my backpack.

“You can go to Allison’s room,” Aunt Lisa said. So at least we’d have some privacy. “We’ll join you in a minute.”

“No!” THOCK. “Ow! Mom!” SMACK SMACK.

“Go,” Mom said to me. I started walking down the hall, taking a step and a half to get out of her reach, completely embarrassed that Emma and Ryan, depending on their angle, just saw Mom spank me. I heard Aunt Lisa giving them instructions to stay in the living and not to go back outside until she came back.

In Allie’s room, Mom took my towel from me, that I’d absentmindedly been chewing on. Her hand brushed my shoulder when she did. “You’re freezing.” She opened my backpack and took out my tee shirt. “I’ll turn around.” So we both turned around while I took off my top as quickly as I could and put my shirt on. It felt good. No sooner was I dressed than Aunt Lisa walked in with Allison. Allie shot a death ray at me with her eyes. Aunt Lisa didn’t even close the door behind them. Allie was wrapped in her towel. If she was cold, she didn’t complain.

“Bring me your hairbrush,” Aunt Lisa said.

Ignoring their drama, I was focused on my own as Mom rummaged in her purse and took out the second hairbrush I’d bought at the beauty store. “Mom, you actually keep that there?”

“I told you I was going to, and I guess it’s a good thing I did. I didn’t think I’d ever have to use this one.”

“What’s the big deal,” I said, figuring what was one last try. “It was a harmless prank.” Mom was having none of it.

“Abigail, please just stop. You know it could’ve been harmful, and you did it because you weren’t thinking, even though both your Aunt Lisa and I both told you to stop.” She sighed. “Why couldn’t you just stop?”

I didn’t say anything. I certainly didn’t want to turn around, where I heard nothing, no lecturing at all. I guess Aunt Lisa and Allison were paying more attention to us.

“I mean it, Abby. Why? I seriously do not understand.”

I guess I didn’t either. I was about to have a really good reason to think through that.

“If you want …” Aunt Lisa started to say. Wow. Will she never shut the fuck up. “… you can use the stool. I’ll use Allison’s desk chair.” I closed my eyes. I hadn’t even begun to process that this would be in front of her. Her, of all people. I’d have traded her for a baseball stadium of people. And Allison, not saying a word at all. Somehow that was more distracting than if she had been arguing about it, too. It was kinda of off putting.

“Mom,” I said with my voice catching. This was just too much to deal with. My adrenaline started going all wonky. “Can we please go in the kitchen or something?” Never in a million years thought I’d find that preferable.

“I think this is fine,” Mom said. “Lisa,” she said as she leaned over and looked behind me, “You’re not going to lecture Allison first?”

“She knows what she did. C’mon, Allison. Over. Thought I might never have to do this again.”

“Mom,” I said barely audibly as she got the stool out of the corner. I wanted to ask to go pee. I needed to. I was afraid to turn around, and I was embarrassed to say anything about it in front of Aunt Lisa.

“What?”

SMACK! “Uum,” I head Allison grunt.

“Please, can we do this in private,” I asked instead. In response, she stepped around me and closed the door.

“I don’t want your brother and sister to be so close to it,” she said. “I don’t want it to frighten them. Understand?”

“Mhmm.” I was trying very hard to keep myself composed as I listened to Aunt Lisa spanking Allison, who was pretty stoic about it. Mom sat down on the stool facing me, brush in hand.

“C’mon. Please get over my lap, Abigail.” With my arms folded across my chest, I shuffled toward her, and when I got to her, I put my left foot on the rung of the stool, and Mom held me by the arm as I laid myself over her lap. I turned as I did and caught sight of Aunt Lisa spanking Allison out of the corner of my eye. I looked away.

“You understand why you're getting this spanking,” Mom asked me. I nodded tearfully. “Please tell me why.”

“You told me to stop roughhousing toward the edge, and I didn’t.”

“And?”

“And I made that smart remark.”

“Yes. Ready?”

“Ehem,” I sobbed already. Mom must’ve been primed, because her hand fell on my butt as soon as the word was out of mouth. It stung more than I ever recalled her hand stinging, I think because my bikini bottoms were still damp and my butt was freezing. Mom only gave me five or so swats before she wrestled those down around my thighs. I was immediately focused on not peeing. I was so focused on that, I almost forgot to be in pain.

I looked to my right, and Allison was quietly taking the spanking Aunt Lisa was giving her. It didn’t look all that severe, which surprised me. Mom hadn’t even switched to the hairbrush when Aunt Lisa stopped., I guess because I had started it and Aunt Lisa figured Allison didn’t deserve the same spanking I did. I went back to looking at the legs of the stool, dangling there.

I was already crying, mostly because Aunt Lisa was watching me. I wanted nothing more than to get up and wipe what I’m sure was that smug look of satisfaction off her face. I was laying there across Mom’s knee instead, hardly hearing the smacks or even myself as I kept saying Don’t Pee! to myself over and over again.

CRACK! Then Mom remembered she had a hairbrush.

“Don’t bounce it so much,” Aunt Lisa said. I looked over again, and Allison was on her feet, and pulling up her swim bottoms.

“How do you mean,” Mom asked. Oh god, please let this be happening to someone else. CRACK! Nope! Happening to me.

“Hold it on her butt, just for a split second, when you bring it down.”

Crack! Yeow! I felt the difference.

“What does that do,” Mom asked. Apparently she didn’t need to know the answer to feel okay continuing to do it.

“Puts more of the spank into her bottom. If you just let it bounce off, all the energy goes back into your arm instead.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t believe the conversation I was hearing. Aunt Lisa’s unwelcome advice, the sound of that hairbrush, my own yelps and tears, and me, in my head, now shouting, DON’T PEE!

 

“Ow! OW! OW OW OW Mom! Please! I’ll be good. OW!” Mom’s reply was to deliver ten more spanks to my butt, including two to my thighs, and then two more to each of my cheeks, following Aunt Lisa’s advice.

“Okay,” Mom said instead of bringing the brush down again.

“I have to pee,” I said before she got another word out.

“Go!”

I practically did a barrel roll off her lap and sprinted for the door. Just not having my abdomen bent over Mom’s knee took the pressure off, and I felt much better, but that feeling wouldn’t last. It’s too bad Aunt Lisa hadn’t conveniently been in the way, because I would’ve knocked her right on her ass getting past her. I dashed out of the room and across the hall into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. My butt hit the porcelain, it hurt, and god, it felt good to go. I put my head in my hands and reached for some toilet paper to dab my eyes. I was still crying, and now that it was over, or at least the worst part of it (having to look at Aunt Lisa and Allison being a close second), I was shocked. I mean, Mom was actually carrying that thing around? I thought that was an idle threat. I never thought she’d actually use it in public, which Aunt Lisa’s house sorta wasn’t, but it definitely, definitely was if she and Allison were gonna be in the room for it.

God, what a stupid, idiotic prank. Mom and Aunt Lisa had a point about not fooling around by the pool, but really, more to the point, if I had known Mom was going to spank me in front of the two of them, I’d have hung yellow caution tape around that freakin’ pool. I really couldn’t be mad at Mom, though. Not so much because she told me to stop roughhousing and I didn’t than because she had told me she’d be carrying that brush, and that she’d spank me on the spot when I got in trouble unless there was a reason not to, which, thinking back on it, the presence of Allie and Aunt Lisa was clearly never going to be considered a reason not to. I guess I didn’t really believe her, or at least believe that meant outside our own home, and I forgot about it.

I couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, which Mom reminded me by knocking on the door. “I have your bottoms,” she said. I’m not even sure when I lost them.

Because ya damn near spanked it off, I wanted to say back. Mild exaggeration, since I was already feeling the sting wear off.

“I’ll be out.”

“Come back to Allison’s room.” I finished what I was doing and washed my hands, then took a look at my butt in the mirror. What a difference Aunt Lisa’s technique made. I opened the door just wide enough to get my wrist out and felt around for my bottoms, hung around the door knob.

Never in my life have a pair of cold, wet, bikini bottoms felt so good. I trudged across the hall and shut the door behind me.

“Everything okay,” Mom asked me. I nodded. I wasn’t clothed in any less than I had been twenty minutes ago but I felt like I was and and put my hands in front of myself. “C’mere.” I did, and she hugged me, and I hugged her back. “Anything to say to Allison,” she asked me.

“I’m sorry,’ I said as I turned to her. “This was all my fault. I’m sorry. And Aunt Lisa, I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology,” Aunt Lisa said. She opened her arms for me, and while I wanted to take the opportunity to punch her in the kidney, I hugged her instead. I was half expecting her to pat me on the butt, and I think I would’ve socked her if she had. Then she totally threw me. She kissed me on the cheek, and she had this smile in her eyes like, well, kind of like I look at Ryan and Emma sometimes. “We’ll give you two a minute,” Aunt Lisa said.

When they left, Allie turned on me with a pretty withering look. “18 months without a spanking,” she said. “And then you had to push me into the pool.”

“Well, you didn’t get spanked because I pushed you into the pool,” I reasoned. “You got spanked for pulling me in. So I guess we both did the same stupid thing.”

“18 months,” she said in reply.

“18 goddamn years until you put this stupid idea in my head, so I guess we’re even.” Touché.

 “Are you okay,” she asked me, sounding more concerned now than angry with me.

I huffed and stood silently. “I guess I will be. Only thing that would’ve made it worse is if I peed myself, and I nearly did.”

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t think she’d ever actually do it in front of someone.” I huffed again.

“Guess she wasn’t kidding. C’mere,” she said and opened her arms again. I hugged her. “I’m sorry if this isn’t what you thought it would be.”

I wanted to ask if she had planned this out with her Mom, but I didn’t. Instead I gave her another hug, or really, she gave me another one, and we went back outside. The kids were more subdued, which more than my butt bothered me (and my butt bothered me, to say the least). I knew they could see my pink, nearly red butt and pretended they couldn’t. But really what bothered me was they were having less fun now than before, and that was my fault. So I guess there was proof of my actions impacting others.

We actually did end up playing Uno – Ryan, Emma, Allie, and me – and across the pool I could hear Aunt Lisa saying something to Mom about me. I didn’t hear exactly what, but I heard Mom’s response.

“Enough. This really is between me and my daughter, alright? Talk about something else.”

Finally. Fucking finally.

That, the fact that it was family, and that it didn’t register to anyone as something out of the ordinary (except me and maybe Mom) kept it an embarrassing but not humiliating experience. No one laughed, no one made fun, and it didn’t become the subject of the afternoon’s conversation, not after Mom told Aunt Lisa to stuff it. Like Mom and I agreed: it hurt, it was (severely) embarrassing, but then it was over.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Angela Bauer]

Wow!!!

Alex, what a marvelous treat having two new fascinating chapters about Abby, Susan, Lisa, rt al!

I feel like an ungrateful niny. After I enjoyed Chapter 12 so much I never dreamed Chapter 13 would be posted so soon. I failed to check DD after I read Ch 12.

At least Ch 13 was just the morning treat I needed to face the rest of this week. Clearly, Alex, you have given all this a lot of thought. A million thanks.

To me it is miraculous that someone with Abby's bladder control problems has not at leased dribbled while being spanked. From the first time Susan began to take Abby across her lap I wanted to shake Susan to offer my advice, "Precious, protect your clothing with an underpad!"

Lisa can only offer advice based upon her experience spanking Alie who apparently has excellent bladder control. Clearly there needs to be a Spanking 101 class, to cover such issues a peeing while being spanked.

Now, Ryan and Emma must have figured out that their big sister and older cousin are getting spanked. They must be curious. Given that spanking is far less PC today than it was when I was turning 18 circa 1982, chances are good that neither Ryan or Emma has a friend who admits to being spanked. Perhaps each has the dread that soon Susan will follow Lisa's sage advice and start spanking them!

[Guilend]

Maybe the mother needs her sister to teach her how to spank by getting spanked. Of course she'll wet herself and her sister will have her standing in the corner wearing her daughter's diaper which she ends up pooping in because she couldn't hold it till the end of her time out. Of course she'll end up with a diaper and spanking fetish so she keeps coming up with excuses for her sister to spank her. I love the world in my mind lol.

[Alex Bridges]

1 hour ago, Angela Bauer said:

Wow!!!

Alex, what a marvelous treat having two new fascinating chapters about Abby, Susan, Lisa, rt al!

I feel like an ungrateful niny. After I enjoyed Chapter 12 so much I never dreamed Chapter 13 would be posted so soon. I failed to check DD after I read Ch 12.

At least Ch 13 was just the morning treat I needed to face the rest of this week. Clearly, Alex, you have given all this a lot of thought. A million thanks.

To me it is miraculous that someone with Abby's bladder control problems has not at leased dribbled while being spanked. From the first time Susan began to take Abby across her lap I wanted to shake Susan to offer my advice, "Precious, protect your clothing with an underpad!"

Lisa can only offer advice based upon her experience spanking Alie who apparently has excellent bladder control. Clearly there needs to be a Spanking 101 class, to cover such issues a peeing while being spanked.

Now, Ryan and Emma must have figured out that their big sister and older cousin are getting spanked. They must be curious. Given that spanking is far less PC today than it was when I was turning 18 circa 1982, chances are good that neither Ryan or Emma has a friend who admits to being spanked. Perhaps each has the dread that soon Susan will follow Lisa's sage advice and start spanking them!

Nothing I ever write will ever include any minor being hit. Full stop.

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 14 (Abby)

 

 

 “So why did the two of you call me,” Mom asked me and Shelby.

“Because I lost,” I said.

“Lost what?”

“Rock, Paper, Scissors.”

“You always pick rock, since we were kids, Shelby giggled.

“It’s not funny,” Mom chastised her. “I ought to call your parents.”

“But we’re adults now,” Shelby whined.

“Really,” Mom said sarcastically, “Then why did you need someone to come pay your fine for you?”

“We’ll pay you back,” Shelby said sheepishly.

“Of course you will. Honestly, ya know,” Mom paused and sighed. “Pretty much everyone drinks before they’re 21, but you two are the first I know personally who’ve gotten arrested for it at a rave.”

“Mom, those cops were assholes. And it wasn’t a rave. It was just a party.”

“Abigail, you are already in so much trouble, you don’t even wanna know.”

I wished right then that I was a turtle and could hide my blushing ears inside my shell. At least we all lived in roughly the same neighborhood and Mom didn’t have to go too far out of her way to drop her off. But then it was just the two of us alone in the car. Neither of us said a word.

And not a word was said when we got inside.

And not a word was said when we went upstairs.

I was halfway into my room when Mom grabbed my upper arm and swatted my butt hard five times. She got a POP sound in return, which left me about ready to swallow my tongue as it announced the underwear I’d chosen for the evening. At least it didn’t hurt.

I turned to look at Mom. She sighed and looked sorry, I guess because I looked stricken with mortification, because on top of what I was wearing, I knew it wasn’t dry and hadn’t been for hours. I mean, I’d been drinking and there was no way in hell I was using that toilet in the cell. Seriously, asshole fucking cops.

“That’s a down payment on what you have coming tomorrow,” Mom informed me. “Get some sleep.”

I slept fine, courtesy of having had a few drinks. I woke up soaked, also courtesy of having had a few drinks. I got up and felt wetness under me as a I did. Freakin’ great. Figuring there was no reason to just lay there, I got up and took off my night diaper, rolled it up, and dropped it in the bin. The cool air on my diaper area reminded me I had an unpleasant morning ahead of me. I put my robe on and stripped the bed. I usually washed my sheets on Sundays anyway. The PUL cover on my mattress did its job. I remembered the plastic cover I had for years growing up and how awful it was to sleep on, making me all sweaty even with the sheet over it.

I went to shower first. The water felt good. I think a lot of people assume that waking up in a wet diaper must make you feel gross, but it’s the opposite. Waking up in a wet bed makes you feel gross. Waking up in a wet diaper just feels like waking up with something between your legs. It feels dry. That’s the whole point.

I wasn’t hungover or anything. I didn’t get trashed. I really don’t ever. I like to have a few drinks with my friends sometimes, but I’m not one of those out of control, girls-gone-wild types who’s throwing up behind the frat house. I combed my hair and put my robe back on. I got dressed in my normal clothes and put my robe in the laundry basket, and I went downstairs. Mom was already up.

“Good morning,” she greeted me. Ryan and Emma were at the table. “How do you feel this morning?”

“Fine,” I said. “Be right back.” I put my things in the wash and returned to the kitchen.

“Breakfast,” Mom asked.

“Sure. Thanks.” She handed me a plate of pancakes and eggs. I made a mental to note to do something athletic later to make up for the amount of syrup I ate.

“Well,” Mom said as I finished eating. “Anything to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ya know, Abigail. You’ve been saying that an awful lot.” Did she really need to say this in front of the kids? “Why don’t you tell your brother and sister, who look up to you, why you’re sorry.”

I sighed. “I got caught drinking alcohol at a party,” I told them.

“Anything else you want to tell them,” Mom asked.

“It was stupid and wrong. You guys shouldn’t ever do it.” I don’t even know if Emma knew what drinking was. I looked at my empty plate, glanced up, and looked back down. They looked as embarrassed as I was, or at least Ryan did. Emma looked like she was pitying me.

“That’s right,” Mom helpfully chimed in. “Your sister isn’t old enough to drink alcohol, and she knows that. Are you done eating?”

“Yes.”

“Clear your plate.” I did and rinsed it off in the sink before putting it in the dishwasher. “Ryan, why don’t you take Emma down to the playroom and find something to do for a little while? We’ll go to the pool later, okay.”

“Okay,” Ryan said and took Emma’s hand. I shut my eyes for a moment. Something about watching him play the big brother always tugs at my heart strings.

“And you,” Mom said when Ryan and Emma turned the corner down the basement stairs, “let’s go get you spanked.”

I’m sorry – what? What did she say, and why, and why did she say it like that? I figured this would sort of become normal, at least after I realized it wouldn’t be the rarity I thought it would be, but it was becoming normalized, and I really, really didn’t like the casual way she said ‘let’s get you spanked,’ like she had said ‘let’s get you a haircut’ or ‘let’s see what’s for dinner.’

“C’mon,” she said and nodded to the stairs. “My room.” I followed her upstairs to her room, and she shut the door behind us. At least she was being discreet.

“I’m not even gonna lecture you about drinking, Abby. I know girls your age do that, but I can’t believe you would be so thoughtless about the where and the when.” I stood there looking and feeling contrite. “Do you understand you could have been hurt? I’m not talking about drinking and driving, either. Do you understand how easy it could have been for someone there to put something in your drink? Did you even know those people? Who were they anyway?”

“A friend of Shelby’s told us about it.”

“So you didn’t even know the host?” Mom closed her eyes and exhaled. “You scare me, Abigail. You exercise some incredibly poor judgment. Is it really that hard for you to think ahead? If you want a drink, do it at a friend’s house. Do it here even!”

“You’re okay with me drinking?”

“I’m not stupid,” Mom said a little indignantly. “I know you're in college, and you're gonna do it. I just want you to be safe about it. Do it where you know people. Where you’re in control of the environment. If you want to go to a party, go. Just don’t drink while you’re there. And then to get arrested for it!”

“I didn’t know the cops were going to show up.”

“How many people were there?”

“A hundred?”

“Then of course they were gonna show up! I had to leave the kids, Abigail. It was 11pm. I had to wake up Ryan and tell him I was running out for a little while. There’s no one for me to call at 11pm. I had to leave your ten-year-old brother and eight-year-old sister alone in the house at 11pm to pick up you and your friend from the police station!”

“I’m sorry,” I moaned. She found the soft spot. “Just …” I started crying. Mom’s faced turned sympathetic, like Emma’s had, and she stepped forward and hugged me.

“I wish you would show some better judgement,” Mom said to me. “That’s all. I want you safe.”

“I know. I’m sorry I was so stupid. I’m sorry I made you leave the kids alone.”

“I know you are. Shhh.” She rubbed my back. “Now let’s get this over with.” She let me go, and I sniffed back a full nose.

Mom sat down on the edge of the bed and beckoned me toward her. She put her hands on my shorts and stopped. “Actually, go pee first.” I wanted to sink into the floor, but I did go pee. I looked at my butt in the mirror first, taking not of how it’s supposed to look. And It gave me a chance to blow my nose and get some composure back.

“All done,” Mom asked me when I emerged from her bathroom. I realized it was nervousness that was making her say stuff like that, just like her “let’s get you spanked” line. It was kind of reassuring to know it wasn’t that normal yet, not if she felt nervous enough to blurt out ridiculous things like that.

“Yeah,” I said as I walked back to her. She reached for my shorts again. You could tell she was getting better by the fact that she popped the button with one hand.

“Do we need to talk anymore about why you’re getting this spanking?” I shook my head. Mom slid my shorts and underwear down and sighed. I don’t know what that sigh meant. I think it meant she didn’t like doing this. I think. Compared to Aunt Lisa who never seemed less than happy to be giving a spanking, like doing it just reaffirmed what a good parent she was. I’d never thought much of her before, and this had complicated all those feelings, but I was developing a distinct sense that she wasn’t one of those “this hurts me more than you” spanking parents.

I put myself over Mom’s knee. Distressingly, I was getting better at that, too. I was able to get comfortable almost right away. I knew my way around her lap.

Mom took up her usual pattern of spanking while I laid there and felt myself bouncing on the bed waiting for it to start hurting. It doesn’t take long, but to me that’s the most unusual part of a spanking, where I’m just lying there while she spanks my butt and I’m just waiting. It’s like waiting to get a shot. You know it’s going to hurt soon, and you just submit to it, even if you want to crawl away. I just laid there while the heat built, and it started to progress from sting to slap to ache.

Mom had pre-positioned her hairbrush behind her, and she put it to work, flicking that evil wood down on my butt. Trying to distract myself from the pain, I imagined that it had literally come from an evil wood, haunted by vengeful, bare bottomed ghosts.

At some point I lost the ability to take it quietly, and my eyes were blurry from the tears. I don’t know what makes some spanks just stand out. They all hurt, and then one just catches you a certain way and hurts a lot more out of the blue and causes you, if you’re me, to say, “Fuck!” I didn’t even notice it. Mom – she noticed it. I realized what I’d said when she paused, just for a second.

It’s like the word “fuck” turns on her nitrous system or something because suddenly she was going twice as fast and connecting with what Allie had taught me is called my sit spots and my thighs, and I responded by arching my back and grabbing a handful of bedspread in each fist. I wasn’t trying to get away, not consciously, but I kinda was, and Mom for the first time threw her left leg over my ankles.

It was over almost as soon as she did that, probably because I scared her when I yelped a little loudly. I wasn’t crying exactly, but there was definite tears and definite sobbing. They just hadn’t become one process yet.

“Do I need to wash your mouth out, too,” Mom said. SMACK!

“Mmm mmm.” SMACK SMACK SMACK!

“Use your words.” SMACK!

“OW! No, I’m sorry!”

“Do you remember the last time I did that?” SMACK! So I guess she was over the nervousness and all it took to get her there was me to drop an F-bomb because suddenly she seemed not the least bit shy about swatting me with that thing. What the hell had grandma and grandpa done to her to make her so anti-swearing?

“Yes, I remember!”

“Good.” SMACK! “Sit up.” I did it, and I felt my slightly swollen butt tighten as I did. “Hug.”

“I’m sorry,” I said into Mom’s shoulder.

“I know you are,” she said as she rubbed my back. She let go, and I stood up, and as I did she was already bending down to pull my shorts back up. “Why don’t you go wash your face and get ready to go?”

“Do I have to go?”

“Yes, but sit down first.” I did. “I love you, Abigail. Don’t you ever put yourself in danger again, ever.” And I think I heard her voice catch when she said it. He leaned over and hugged me again, adding a kiss in the cheek.

“I promise,” I whimpered.

“I mean it …” She paused, and I could tell she did. She was obviously thinking something. “I don’t want to have to give you any attitude adjusters today.”

“Okay.” Kind of an embarrassing way to phrase it, but okay.

“And I won’t,” she added. “New rule. If I have to give you a spanking, that’s it for the day. No more warnings.”

I did that guppy thing where my mouth opens and closes, and then I realized the hairbrush she used came from her purse.

“O-okay. I’ll go get ready.” When I stood up I realized Mom had spanked me well outside the area covered by my bathing suit. Guess I was wearing my swim skirt and probably walking around wrapped in a towel until I was ready to get in, then wrapped back in that towel as soon as I got out.

“We’ll be there all day,” Mom said, “so bring along anything you’re gonna need.” I knew what that was in reference to.

In my room, I broke out the after sun lotion and applied it to my butt. And I resolved to be on my best behavior for the day.

[Angela Bauer]

Many thanks, Alex, for this new chapter about Abby and all the other new material on several of your other stories.

[Sarah Penguin]