Grandmother, the punk and the princess


“Under the circumstances I can see absolutely no alternative,” the magistrate intoned.

“As if I care,” the girl in the dock sneered.

The magistrate peered at her over his glasses and shook his head. He didn’t want to send a 19-year-old to a correctional facility but her attitude was appalling. Who wore blue-hair and ragged leather with chains to a court?

“That attitude will get you nowhere,” he continued. “You have no job, no fixed abode and this is not the first time you have been caught shoplifting.”

Rachel felt sick. She had no idea why. Jeri wasn’t her problem. What if they were half-sisters? She had enough on her own plate to worry about.

Jeri gave the magistrate the two-handed finger and then poked her tongue out him.

“Very well,” the magistrate sighed. “Geraldine Catherine Merchant, please stand up.”

“Please you honour,” Rachel spoke.

“Yes?” The magistrate turned his attention to the well-dressed young woman now addressing the court.

“Jeri is my sister, my half-sister I mean. I could… well try and sort something out.” Rachel didn’t know why she was saying this.

“You are gainfully employed and have adequate accommodation?”

“Well… I have just lost my job and the flat is being repossessed, but it is only a matter of time…”

“Please Ms…?”

“Merchant. Rachel Merchant.”

“You have the same father?”

“No. I never knew my father or hers. Mum was a single parent and never married.”

“I see and where is she?”

“Our mother died 10 years ago when we were children.”

“So you were brought up in a care home?”

“Yes your honour, mostly.”

“I don’t see how this helps if you cannot make adequate provision for your sister. Besides, you are rather young yourself. I am of the opinion that your sister needs a rather more… shall we say experienced hand.”

At that moment the court door opened and rather stern looking woman in a tweedy business style skirt suit entered. With her steel grey hair and piercing eyes, Rachel was reminded of her old headmistress, the one that put her on the road to college and a good city job.

“I do apologise for being late, I have been in transit since I received the message.” The woman said as she took her seat.

“Oh that’s is quite alright,” the magistrate said cheerfully, “but I don’t understand, what is your interest in this case?”

“Young man it is far from alright. I despise tardiness,” The woman bristled.

Rachel nearly laughed out loud. The magistrate was far from being a young man. At the same time she had a sudden insight to who the woman must be.

“I am Geraldine Merchant. The creature in the dock’s grandmother.”

“She is named for you?”

“So I believe.”

Jeri was craning her neck around trying to get a look at a woman she had never seen, taking an interest in her own trial for the first time.

“I can offer both my granddaughters a home on a more or less permanent basis,” Geraldine continued.

“I see,” the magistrate pretended to scan some papers on his desk while he considered. “Why have you waited until now to take an interest in your granddaughters?”

“My daughter and I were not on good terms. She chose to have a child out of wedlock and refused all assistance. Not only that, she disappeared and I only found out she had even died a year ago when I made tentative contact with Rachel. I went abroad to work for many years after my husband died. Yesterday I received a letter from Rachel telling me about the case and… various other matters.”

The magistrate turned to scrutinise Rachel and after a moment’s consideration, he asked, “what work did you do?”

“I was a head teacher in Kenya.”

Jeri snorted derisively.

In the end, it had been decided that both women would move in with their grandmother in her remote Cumbrian home. And the magistrate had made an order to that effect, placing Jeri in her grandmother’s custody for two years.


It took a day and a night to drive to Cumbria. A journey made longer by Jeri’s brooding presence in the back of the car. To fill the silence, Rachel explained that the credit crunch had brought an end to her well-paid city job and caused her to default on the mortgage.

“Staying with you is just temporary,” she had added. “I need to get on with my own life.”

“Uh-huh,” came Geraldine’s non-committal reply.

The house was large and slightly forbidding, set as it as it was between two low wooded hills. Beyond the mountains of the Lake District could be seen in the distance, still snow capped and draped in cloud.

“Nice house,” Rachel said with an uncertain smile.

Jeri rolled her eyes up and did her best to look sullen.

“Thank you,” Geraldine said. “It is a little like my house in Kenya.”

“What did you do there, exactly I mean?” Rachel asked conversationally.

“I ran a school for gifted but difficult girls,” her grandmother replied dryly as she cast a hard stare in Jeri’s direction. “Tell me. How is it that you two went in such different directions?”

Rachel shrugged. Then added: “Jeri took mum’s death pretty hard, she was only nine. I was already a straight-A student and… well you know…”

“No I don’t know. Straight As eh? And ‘you know’ is the most articulate you can manage. I see I have more than Geraldine to worry about.”

“My name is Jeri,” Jeri growled.

“Is it? Well Jeri, fetch the bags and I’ll show you to your room.”

After Geraldine turned away to open the door, Jeri mouthed her grandmother’s words back at her and stuck out her tongue.

“You would do well not to test my patience young Jeri,” Geraldine said without turning around. “The first thing we need to do is get you out of those stinking rags.”

“Hey I put a lot of effort into getting these rags to the right degree of stinking,” Jeri mocked.

Her grandmother turned round to confront her.

“Are you being cheeky?” Geraldine held up her hand and added, “don’t answer that I warn you. Let me give you a piece of advice. It is my way or you leave. If you leave then I rather think you have an 18 months sentence to face.”

“It’s my way or the highway,” Jeri jeered. “Don’t you know nuffin?”

Geraldine cringed.

“Are you sure you are my daughter’s child? Again, don’t answer. I can see the same bratty attitude in you.” Geraldine held her face in her hands. “Listen child, you get three chances with me. Ending up in court is scratch one. Your attitude ever since has not exactly endeared you to me. So this is your last warning. Pick up your bags. Go up the stairs to the room second on the right. Get undressed. Avail yourself of a bath. Then get dressed for dinner in your least odious outfit.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Jeri offered a mock military salute.

“Sorry.” Rachel mouthed as she pulled a face.

Her grandmother almost smiled at her. Almost.


Rachel felt there was something surreal about sitting down with her long lost grandmother. She had expected an ex-pat colonial setting, instead the house was 1950s bohemian.

She had opted for light eveningwear, which seemed to fit both the mood and her grandmother’s attire. Nevertheless, there was something of a forbidding air to the dinning room, so Rachel waited until she was told to sit down.

Then Jeri had arrived. She had opted for a clinging Union Jack mini dress. Complete with matching hair, freshly spiked for the occasion.

“How delightfully patriotic,” Geraldine said tersely.

“D’ya like it?”


“What should we call you?” Rachel interjected to deflect any smart mouthing from her sister. “Granny? Nan? Nanny? Or just plain Grandmother?”

“Geraldine will suffice.”

“Geraldine it is,” Rachel felt strangely odd calling her grandmother by her Christian name, but after all she had never met the woman before yesterday.

“Suits me,” Jeri grunted.

“Wine? It’s a reasonable Bordeaux, I don’t hold with all this so-called New World wine. New World, New Age, New Black… Poppycock,” Geraldine said stridently.

“Lovely.” Rachel attempted a nervous smile, although Chardonnay from anywhere would have suited her better.

“Haven’t you got a beer? Or a Breezer?” Jeri asked, turning up her nose at the proffered fair.

“Well seeing as you ask, young Jeri, no. I don’t even know what a Breezer is.”

“Figures.” Jeri sniffed at the red liquid suspiciously, then took a gulp. “Not bad.”

“Is it organic?” Rachel said brightly just to make conversation.

“I really wouldn’t know.” Geraldine was beginning to regret asking her granddaughters to live with her. She was beginning to realise that she had nothing to say to them.

“Tell me about your school in Africa. It must have been interesting.” Rachel persisted.

“I hated school. I don’t think much of this either. What the bollocking hell is it anyway?” Jeri held the lengths of pasta aloft and regarded it as one might an unwashed sock.

“I once caned a young woman in my school for her bad table manners. I have lost count of the number of times I caned girls for swearing,” Geraldine said icily and fixing Jeri with a hard stare.

“You caned people? What planet was that?” Jeri chortled as she took another mouthful of food.

“Oh it was this planet. I do assure you,” Geraldine said evenly. “Tell me Jeri. Do you remember what I said to you when you arrived?”

Jeri shrugged, genuinely puzzled.

Geraldine stood up and tossed her napkin carelessly onto the table. Then she walked to where Jeri was sitting and hauled her out of her seat.

“Get off. What are you…?”

“I am going to do something that should have been done a long time ago, Geraldine Merchant.” With that, she tipped her granddaughter neatly over her lap.

“Grandmother… I mean Geraldine. I don’t think…” Rachel began.

Her grandmother ignored her and pulled the hem of Jeri’s short dress into the small of her back. Even Rachel was surprised to see her sister’s bare bottom.

“What is the meaning of this?” Geraldine barked.

“What the freaking? Let me go.” Jeri struggled in vain over in her grandmother’s surprisingly firm grip.

“I asked you a question girl,” Geraldine snapped applying a brisk spank to her granddaughter’s bottom.

“I ran out,” Jeri squealed.

“I see,” Geraldine sighed. “Tomorrow I will take you in hand. For now let’s get this over with.”

“Look you can’t just…” Jeri spluttered, completely out of her depth.

Geraldine brought her hand down with a sharp splat, which she followed up quickly with three more.

“Have you any idea how many times I have heard girls of your age and older say such things. I think you will find I can and will give you the spanking you deserve. A girl’s first spanking is a gift to be treasured. Afterwards things are never quite the same again,” the old woman spoke in the kindest tones either of the girls had yet heard.

There were three more quick spanks and Jeri reached back to block them, but Geraldine neatly took both her granddaughter’s wrists in her left hand and held them firmly but gently at the small of the girl’s back.

“You can’t fight it, nothing you can do will prevent what is to come. If you try, you will only make things worse,” Geraldine soothed as she began to spank in earnest.

Rachel’s head was spinning and not only because of her grandmother’s action. Jeri was putting up a lot less resistance than she thought possible. From where she sat, she could see her sister’s eyes darting in their head as if she was both trying and not trying to look at where she was being spanked. It was a look of confusion. Rachel remembered she once had a rabbit that looked like that whenever she picked it up. But that had been before her mother had died. Somehow the memory was comforting. Here was her sister being hit by a woman they hardly knew and all she could think was it felt like home.

“Please I’m sorry,” Jeri wailed.

Although Jeri couldn’t see it, Geraldine nodded at this, not that she slackened the pace of the spanking. Consequently, Jeri’s bottom became quite red and sore looking.

Perhaps sensing her spanking was far from over, Jeri began to struggle a little, not so much to escape, but to express her discomfort by kicking up her legs. Also Rachel noticed that her sister’s breathing had become harsh and fast.

“You know in the old days I only used to spank my favourite girls with my hand. By rights I should have fetched a hairbrush to you. Be assured if you ever behave like that at my table again I will cane you.” Geraldine said all this without breaking her stride or spanking one jot easier.

Jeri spluttered something like a raspberry and then began to cry.

“That’s it let it all out,” Geraldine cooed.

“I’m sorry grandmother, I am so sorry,” Jeri sobbed.

“Why are you sorry?” The spanking paused.

“I was mad at you for helping me. No one has ever helped me before.”

“I know. You are angry at the world. You have been for so long it is all you know how to be.”

That was so true, Jeri realised. Suddenly she didn’t want the spanking to end. It was as if the pain and surrender would bring further understanding. Then she suppressed the thought almost at once as she realised how humiliating her situation was.

“I am going to stop spanking you now. I want you to stand up and go to the corner. You place you hands on your head and not move until I tell you. If you do anything else, we will continue this even if it takes all night. Do you understand?”

“Yes Grandmother.” There was a childish earnestness to Jeri’s voice that Rachel hadn’t heard for a long time and she smiled.

Rachel sat open-mouthed as Geraldine moved back to her place at the table and sat down as if nothing had happened.

“Now where were we? Oh yes you were asking about Kenya,” Geraldine said, pronouncing it Keen-yer.

Rachel swallowed and nodded dumbly as her eyes darted form her grandmother to Jeri standing in the corner. To her utter amazement, Jeri was doing exactly as she was told with her face turned into the wall and her hands on her head. The latter action had the effect of lifting her short Union Jack hemline off her bottom cheeks to reveal a shiny red bottom that almost matched the red in the flag’s crosses.

“Don’t worry she’ll be fine, I promise. Do her the world of good,” Geraldine actually smiled a little in reassurance. “Now about my school.”

“Eh… yes, were they all African children?” Rachel managed at last, although she had completely lost interest in her question.

“Of course. Oh you mean were they all black? No, they were about half white. But they weren’t exactly children. It was a school for 16 to 19-year-olds, although occasionally I had older girls. Young women who should have done better at school and whose parents wanted them better prepared for higher education.”

“I see. And you spanked them?” Rachel said, not quite believing her own question.

“Sometimes. Only my special favourites were spanked as Jeri here was just punished. Usually I resorted to the cane or sometimes an implement known as the bat.”

“Isn’t corporal punishment a little old fashioned?”

“Ah,” Geraldine smiled and rubbed her hands as if warming up for her favourite subject. “I used to think that with a passion. I trained to be a teacher during the 1950s when the cane was still very much in use in British schools. I was determined to try new methods and change the world, just as soon as I got a teaching position.”

“What happened to change your mind?”

“That is a very long story. One day I did something that I very much regretted. Something which, if it became known, I would have been dismissed from the training college. In those days I had a mentor at the college, a strange man, I liked him very much, but he was old fashioned and one of the old school. We used to butt heads over my radical views all the time. In my predicament, I turned to him for help.”

Rachel was suddenly absorbed in the long lost world of the ancient 1950s. She even forgot about Jeri fidgeting the corner.

“He made me an offer. He would save my career if I agreed to an experiment. He said that my radical views had clearly failed, a reference to my secret disgrace, so we should try his approach for the remainder of my training. Then I could choose which way was best. Of course I had to agree, but I had no idea what I was letting myself in for.”

“You mean you had to learn how to cane students before you were allowed to teach even if you planned on never using the cane afterwards?” Rachel took another sip of wine.

“That is what I believed, but there was rather more to it. You see first I had to accept a caning from my mentor as a punishment for my error of judgement.”

Rachel let her jaw drop theatrically and suppressed a smile at the idea of this old lady ever having been caned.

“I protested of course. But as was pointed out, I was still a student and we were engaged in a scientific experiment to find out if corporal punishment had a place in education.”

Rachel gulped her wine down and poured herself another generous glassful. Then waited for Geraldine to continue. When she said nothing Rachel couldn’t contain herself.

“Well? What happened?”

“I was given six of the best across my bottom,” Geraldine said. “Not for the last time. I was strictly mentored after that. There were rules and penalties. If I required the cane more than once in a month, I had to remove a layer of clothing. If I repeated an offence I had to accept 12 strokes.”

“Oh my god,” Rachel gasped. “Did you? Did he?”

“I was always being late in those days. By the end of the second month I had been caned twice across my bared bottom, both 12 strokers for tardiness.”

“What a bastard,” Rachel said in a voice tinged with awe.

“Language like that would have earned me six,” Geraldine scolded.

“Sorry,” Rachel blushed.

“So was I at the time and most definitely I shared your sentiments,” Geraldine chuckled. “But little by little I came to see that I was becoming a better student and even a better person. I was mortified of course. To be seen naked by a man. It just wasn’t done in those days, but it was exciting too.”

Rachel smiled and squirmed a little in her seat.

“In our little weekly deconstructions about our experiment, we talked about that too. He was a great believer in the ascetics and eroticism of the cane. I was shocked at first and thought it highly inappropriate.”

Rachel blushed; of course it was, she thought, suddenly ashamed of her licentious thoughts.

“He agreed with me, but then he said that it was only wrong if we pretended that corporal punishment did not have that dimension. In the weeks that followed, we explored all aspects of such things. Posture, humility,” Geraldine glanced at Jeri who was no doubt listening as intently as Rachel, “corner time.”

Jeri is shuffled a little and Rachel could see how red her ears were. Four red cheeks, how cute, Rachel thought.

“Then came the bridge game.”

Rachel shook her head and wondered what was coming next.

“We were playing bridge with some friends of his one Sunday afternoon and I… well I have always been a sore loser. He decided that I must be punished for my behaviour. I couldn’t believe it. He actually caned my bare bottom in front of his friends. I was mortified, especially as I had to spend the rest of the afternoon with my bare bottom on display in the corner.”

“Oh my god,” Rachel giggled. She couldn’t help but openly enjoy the story however shocking an inappropriate it all seemed.

“Afterwards I was furious. I railed at him and said I was going to leave.” Geraldine’s eyes were shining and Rachel could see that she was back somewhere in the 1950s. “He said, ‘will you ever be such a bad sport again? Are you angry with me or at your own surrender?’ He was right on both counts and I burst into tears. That was the first time I kissed him. He caned me straight after for my bratty outburst and the next Sunday I was caned in front of his friends again for good measure. Then he said I was ready.”

“Ready for what?” Rachel poured some more wine.

“To cane some of his other students of course. I spent months learning techniques and psychology.”

“Did you ever see him again? After you left to become a teacher, I mean?”

“I married him. He was your grandfather,” Geraldine laughed. It was a clean laugh and as clear as a bell.


The next day at breakfast Jeri looked decidedly sheepish. She didn’t even bother to hide the fact that it hurt to sit down.

“Ouch,” she groaned as she pulled a face. Her hands went to her bottom and she pushed out her bottom lip. “I have narf got a sore bum.”

“Serves you right,” Rachel replied. “I see you have almost dressed normally this morning. Pity about the hair.”

“We will see about that later,” Geraldine said as she put a fresh pot of tea on the table. “After breakfast you are coming with me to town to find you some clothes.”

“Tea. I usually drink coffee,” Jeri groaned.

“That’s enough of your attitude young lady. Too much coffee is not good for you at your age.” Geraldine scolded.

Rachel could see that Jeri was about to argue, but instead she just pouted and said: “’spose.”

After breakfast, Jeri scurried off like a puppy to get ready to go out.

“She’s like a 10-year-old this morning,” Rachel said in amazement. “I thought she would be climbing the walls or giving out attitude.”

“She is an attention seeker. An attention seeker who thinks that nobody loves her. Give it a day or two and she will court another spanking, you wait and see.”

“I doubt it,” Rachel said in disbelief. “Anyway, what do you mean no one loves her? I was there.”

“Were you? Where was she when you were off away at college, or working in the city making all that money that you couldn’t seem to hold on to?”

“I was…” Rachel’s voice tailed off and she felt ashamed. In fact she had always felt ashamed. At 18 when Jeri first went off the rails she had sworn that she was only bettering herself for her sister. Then there had been college and boys and sex and drugs and rock and roll and… and never a thought about Jeri. Then once Jeri turned 17 and went well and truly wild she had been lost. She hadn’t known what do with all of her sister’s anger.

“I tried my best,” Rachel finished defensively.

“Did you?” Geraldine gave her a hard stare. “You remind me so much of your mother.”

“Tell me about her,” Rachel pleaded.

“Tonight over dinner. I have a hunch Jeri will be more receptive than she was last night.”


When Rachel came down to dinner that evening she almost cried. There sitting at the table was her long lost sister. Jeri was wearing a sensible turtleneck jumper and knee length pleated skirt. More startling than that was her hair. It had been cut and died into a chestnut brown bob that framed her face just the way Rachel always remembered.

“Hello Rachel,” Jeri said shyly.

“Hello Jeri, or is it Geraldine?”

“You and mum were the only ones to ever call me that,” Jeri giggled. “I’d rather stick to Jeri.”

“Sit down girls and Rachel would you pour the wine. Or would you prefer a blaster Jeri?” Geraldine instructed.

“It’s a Breezer Grandmother,” Jeri giggled.

Rachel wondered what world she woken to that morning, but she wasn’t knocking it and said nothing as she poured out the wine.

“Geraldine. You were going to tell us about our mother,” Rachel said after a while just to break the silence.

“Your mother and I never quite saw eye to eye and things only got worse after your grandfather died. He was much older than me as you know, but I still miss him. Anyway, your mother dyed her hair and set-up as a New Romantic,” Geraldine allowed herself a small sneer as she used the phrase and then paused to look at Jeri who blushed. “She was very fond of swearing and drugs, I didn’t know how to talk to her. I spanked her of course. Many times. I caned her as well. Sometimes she couldn’t sit down for days. Had she been a student I would have used a different approach, I see that now. You see I didn’t always follow your grandfather’s methods. I was true to myself.”

Geraldine pursed her lips and pretended to examine the cruet set. Then after a deep sigh she continued.

“Then she fell pregnant. I never knew the boy.”

“With me?” Rachel asked quietly.

“With you.” Geraldine smiled.

“I offered to help. I said I knew a doctor, but if she wanted to keep you then we could work something out. She took it the wrong way.” Geraldine shrugged. “One day I came down and found the note.”

Geraldine was crying.

“I only saw her once more. I later heard that she had had another child by another man. I didn’t even know it was a girl until you wrote to me last year.”

Jeri stood up and leaned over to hug her grandmother.

“It’s silly now I know, but there you have it.”

“It’s not silly. Mum could be, well odd frankly. Jeri doesn’t remember, but she used drink and then there were the pills,” Rachel said quietly.


A few days later Jeri was in trouble again. Rachel wanted to find her sister before things got worse. She found Jeri hiding in her room.

“There you are,” Rachel sighed.

“Hi Rache,” Jeri sighed and pursed her lips.

“Geraldine has been looking for you all over.”

“I bet she has,” Jeri grimaced. “I am glad I came here aren’t you?”

“Yes. I am glad you came here anyway. I need to get a job and get out of here. But you’re right it is best for you here.”

“Is Grandmother very angry with me?”

“It’s hard to tell. You know her. Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking I guess,” Jeri whispered.

Rachel remembered Geraldine’s prediction about Jeri’s likely attention seeking behaviour. But she said nothing about that. Instead, she said: “Come on if you apologise it’ll be OK.”

Jeri followed Rachel down into the kitchen and the scene of the devastation. She was shocked at how bad she had left things, something must have rolled off the poorly stacked washing up pile after she had skipped out, she guessed.

“I thought I told you to do the washing up,” her grandmother said with a steely glare.

“I know but I…” Jeri shrugged, she thought better of saying she had something better to do. It sounded weak and anyway she couldn’t remember now what it was.

“No buts. Clean this mess up and then report to me in the drawing room.”

“Yes grandmother,” Jeri said sheepishly.

After they were alone Jeri stooped to pick up the broken crockery.

“She is going to spank me again isn’t she?”

“I suppose so. Don’t you mind? I mean I know you are still a kid sometimes, but you’re 19, isn’t it a little freaky?”

“I don’t know,” Jeri blushed. “I mind but no one has ever stopped me doing stuff before. No one cared enough.”

“If I had know you feel like that I would have spanked you myself years ago,” Rachel laughed.

“You and who’s army,” Jeri punched her sister lightly on the arm.

Once the mess was finally cleared up Jeri walked nervously into the front room that her grandmother called the drawing room.

Geraldine was standing by the fireplace holding what Jeri realised was a cane.

“You know what happens now don’t you?” She said darkly.

Jeri nodded, her eyes fixed on the cane.

“If I ask you to take your things down, underwear too, right down to your ankles and bend over, will I get any arguments?”

Jeri shook her head and whispered, “I guess I deserve it.”

“Let’s have you then.”

Jeri took a deep breath and then slowly undid the belt to her jeans. She felt completely self-conscious, so she turned around before pushing her jeans and knickers down. She had to bend to do it so it was easy just to stay bent over.

“Good girl. Now the cane hurts. A lot and as you are being so good now I will spank you instead. But next time I will cane you. Do you understand?”

Jeri didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Geraldine, it seemed expected that and took the girl over her lap without further questions.

Her last spanking had been a shock and she had struggled in anger against it. This was more embarrassing somehow, since she was submitting to it. However, this time her grandmother’s lap felt safe and almost cosy.

“Don’t be under any illusion, I am going to spank you soundly with a hairbrush. It will hurt a lot. When we are done I am going to put you in the corner where you will stay for a while.”

Jeri felt odd and vulnerable, naked as she was from her waist to ankles. She was also aware of how cold the old house was. There was a definite chill on her bare bottom and legs.


“Yes ma’am.”

The brush stung more than Jeri was expecting but she was determined to take it without fuss. But even as she thought on that, the second and third swat struck and she began to struggle and cry out despite herself.

Rachel had thought to make herself scarce, but she was suddenly curious and came to the open door to watch. Geraldine looked up and smiled knowingly.

The brush stung her sisters bottom with rapid spanks so that her white round skin became quickly red was raised up a little where the brush had struck compared with the smooth white unmarked flesh.

Jeri’s resistance was quickly stripped away and without her misplace self-righteous anger that she had felt during the last spanking, she allowed herself to dissolve into tears.

“That’s it you naughty girl, you know you deserve it.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jeri wailed.

As before, Jeri’s bottom went a deep red that contrasted with the sun-shy skin of her lower back and thighs, so that the ovals of her bottom carried a shiny red sheen as if dipped in paint. Rachel remembered what Geraldine had said about the ascetics of a spanking.

“Alright, you’ve had enough, into the corner with you,” Geraldine said gently.

Jeri glanced at her sister as she stood up, revealing a sorry pout on her cute woe-filled face. Then blushing as red as her bottom she shuffled over to the corner where she had been sent and settled in for a cleansing little cry.

“That’s better isn’t it?” Geraldine soothed.

“Yes grandmother,” Jeri sobbed.


That evening Geraldine set a place on the mantelpiece for Jeri to eat dinner.

“It is not necessary, really it’s not,” Jeri blushed as she looked in horror at the embarrassment her grandmother had arranged for her.

“Nonsense girl, I won’t have you squirming and fidgeting all the way through dinner. Besides naughty girls can’t sit with the growth ups. Think yourself lucky we don’t have guests.”

Rachel tried not to laugh. It seemed that when her grandmother punished she made a girl humble all day. Jeri had spent a good part of the afternoon displayed in the corner as it was. At least she had been allowed to get ready for bed.

“Guests? Oh you wouldn’t,” Jeri gaped.

“In Africa girls were sent to bed without supper if there was a formal seating. Otherwise, it was up to the discretion of the house heads or sometimes the prefects. Mantle settings were the usual way to humble a girl. Believe me at house suppers miscreants used to eat off the mantle sans culets after a thrashing.”

“Sans what?” Jeri didn’t like the sound of this at all.

“Bare bottomed as you were earlier,” Rachel giggled.

“Oh but that was just little kids right?” Jeri asked hopefully.

“Young women of any age, our youngest were 16,” Geraldine supplied.

“I won’t mess up the washing-up again I promise,” Jeri said earnestly.

“I am glad to hear it, now attend your meal.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jeri said miserably.

“You wouldn’t really make her stand there if we had visitors would you?” Rachel whispered.

“Sans culets if necessary,” Geraldine said with a wink. “And don’t think she would be the only one if it came right down to it.”

Rachel blushed and wanted to protest. Of course, it wouldn’t happen, but it was embarrassing that Geraldine would even say such a thing.


A few weeks had gone by and as predicted by Geraldine, Jeri had courted a spanking almost every week. On two occasions she had even been caned, events that Rachel had watched in dread fascination.

Invariably after each chastisement, Jeri would be consigned still bare-bottomed to the corner, a state of affairs that Rachel could not quite get used to.

It was hard for her to have a rational conversation while her little sister stood snivelling in the corner with a crimson bottom well displayed. Consequently, the subject often turned to Africa and Geraldine’s spanking adventures there.

Then one evening Geraldine had asked how Rachel’s job hunting was getting on.

“Not bad, I have two interviews coming up,” Rachel said careful before taking a swig of wine. “That reminds me. I know you like me to be in by eleven, but I have an afternoon interview coming up and I might not get back until late.”

“Oh that’s good news,” Geraldine said, although there was something about the way her grandmother fixed her with a stare as she spoke that unsettled Rachel a little.

But she decided that it was her own bad conscience playing tricks. The conscience was derived from the fact that she had no interviews at all. She had singularly failed to get a reply from any of her applications since her arrival in Cumbria.

There was however, a young man who said he might be able to help in that direction if Rachel met him for a drink. He must think me born yesterday, she smiled to herself, knowing that the offer of job help was a clumsy ruse. Still she could do with a night out and not having to explain that your grandmother wants you in before the pubs turn out is not that cool.

In the event, both the date and the job prospects had both been a disappointment and to cap it all she had not got in until gone one in the morning.

“How did it go?” Geraldine asked as soon as Rachel put the light on.

“Oh you startled me,” Rachel said jumping 10 feet in the air.

“It’s a little late for a business meeting of any kind, just what kind of job is it?” Geraldine studied her granddaughter carefully.

“Oh it was for a… you know the usual.”

“I was in teaching for over 40 years. I have heard a lot of stories and I can spot when a young woman is being less than honest,” Geraldine said kindly.

“Are you saying I’m lying?” Rachel bristled.

“No. I haven’t said it. Why? Are you?”

“I… went to see a man about a job of sorts… but it didn’t work out,” Rachel cast her eyes down.

“Rachel, can I say something to you?”

Rachel felt uncomfortable and wondered where this was going.

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“It can yes. But maybe you won’t want your sister around when we have the conversation.”

Rachel’s mouth went dry. She was beginning to guess where this was going and frantically thought of how to avoid a confrontation. Geraldine had to know she wasn’t Jeri.

“What is it?” Rachel swallowed hard.

“You are old enough to have a life of your own. If you want to be out late then for your sister’s sake just tell me. Also, I do know a rejection letter when I see it. You haven’t even been getting too many of those have you?”

“No.” Rachel mumbled, suddenly embarrassed by the guilty blush that suffused her face.

“So you lied?”

Rachel nodded not meeting Geraldine’s eyes.

“You know I can’t have that. You have to set an example, heaven knows you have let Jeri down enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel suddenly felt close to tears.

“If you ever lie to me again I will cane your bare bottom in front of your sister and put you in the corner until you put down roots.”

Rachel gasped and threw Geraldine an angry look.

“If you think…”

“Shush. I am not making idle threats, let’s not pretend that it won’t happen.”

“Listen if you want me to leave then fine. But please Geraldine, don’t give me that ‘my house, my rules crap’ I’m a grown women.”

“Rachel. I have already decided to spank you, don’t make me cane you as well, you won’t like it I assure you,” Geraldine snapped. “I have no intention of letting you leave. Jeri needs you here. I need you here. As for my rules, yes I will be obeyed in my own house, but I have already said, I won’t be unreasonable, you are a grown woman.”

“A grown woman yes, so what makes you think you can spank me?”

“Because you and I are exactly alike. I told you, I was brought to rue the rod late in life also.”

Rachel didn’t know what to say.

“Come with me. We’ll take care of this in your own room. Its better that way for your first spanking believe me. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of Jeri unless you deserve it.”

“Look I don’t want… you can’t… I won’t…” Rachel gabbled.

“Come on,” Geraldine said gently taking her granddaughter’s hand.

Rachel found herself being led to her bedroom and all the way there she convinced herself that it wasn’t going to happen.

“Get undressed for bed,” Geraldine urged.

Rachel blushed, but it was late so she did as she was told. Quickly stripping off and then putting on the T-shirt she wore to sleep in. Then she stood sheepishly in the middle of room crushed by the oppressive atmosphere.

Geraldine sat on her bed to prevent her granddaughter escaping under the covers.

“Come on over my knee, let’s get this over with,” Geraldine said firmly.

Rachel felt like a virgin with her first boyfriend. She tucked her chin onto her chest and hid her face with her hair.

Geraldine reached up and tugged Rachel towards her so that she tumbled easily and unresisting across her lap.

The hem of the shirt slid easily over her taught buttocks until they were bare and shiny white in the dimly lit room.

“I think I can make an impression with just my hand, but remember next time even if you escape my cane I will employ sterner measures.”

“Yes Grandmother,” Rachel lisped feeling about 12.

The first spank was a revelation, but Rachel had no time to dwell on it as it was quickly followed by brisk sequence of others.

The sting of it built up quickly and over took her until she was breathing heavily and grunting at each impact.

“You have a good seat and you take it well,” Geraldine soothed. “My you go red. I don’t think I have seen such a full round bottom since Chastity Mbeke, one of my girls and she was of African stock.”

Rachel hugged into Geraldine’s knee hoping to hold on until it was over. Then as the ‘fire’ really took hold she realised that her grandmother was taking no prisoners. That brought on the first tears.

“My you are a tough girl, that’s it let it go.”

“Hoo, huh-a-huh-a-huh,” Rachel hooted.

Geraldine checked her watch with a glance. Another five minutes to make my point, she thought.

Then Rachel learnt that what ever she said or did, she was powerless to do anything but take her medicine.

“I’m sorry grandmother, I’m sorry,” she sobbed once the spanking was finally over.

“There now it’s over.”

“I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble. I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry…”

“I know, I know,”

Long after Geraldine had left, Rachel lay on her stomach and cried. Not from the pain, but from… well she didn’t know.


Things were different after that. Rachel stopped looking at Cumbria as a temporary hold up and started looking for a more realistic job locally. Once she made up her mind it didn’t take long. A local finance adviser was looking for an advanced bookkeeper with management experience.

There was just one thing that played on Rachel’s mind. That was what Geraldine had said about letting Jeri down.

One day after Jeri had been spanked following an episode in the laundry, Geraldine had gone into town leaving Rachel with Jeri.

“I want her to stay in the corner until at least lunchtime, any longer and that is up to you,” Geraldine had said as she hastened to leave. “Goodness look at the time, that darn girl has made me late.”

“But I can’t…” Rachel began, but her grandmother was gone.

Rachel half expected Jeri to play up once it was just the two of them but as she went into the room her sister kept her place in the corner.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Suppose,” Jeri said sullenly.

“I’m sorry but I had better not let you out of the corner,” Rachel said trying to be sincere, although it was strangely thrilling to have Jeri under her command in such a predicament.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. Well I do but, well you know what I mean,” Jeri said shyly somewhat muffled by the wall.

“No actually I don’t.”

“Well it’s like you are taking care of me. I so wanted you too when we were kids, but you left me.”

Rachel felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach.

“But you hated me, you always…”

“I know. I was such a brat. I just wanted you to…” Jeri sighed. “Be like mum. Or be like I wanted mum to be. It’s not your fault.”

“You mean like Geraldine?”

“Yes.” Jeri said in a very small voice.

There was a long silence. Rachel wanted to cry.

“If you want to come out of the corner and get dressed its alright. I won’t tell.”

Jeri looked round and smiled.

“I don’t think I should,” she said after a moments thought. “You’ll get us both into trouble. Besides don’t you want me under your thumb just once?”

“You would only get me back,” Rachel laughed.

“No I wouldn’t. I like having a big sister,” Jeri took a peek over her shoulder and Rachel could see that she was shyly chewing her lip. “I feel such a dork saying this.”

“You’ve changed,” Rachel whispered.

“Maybe.” Jeri shrugged.

“Alright, you can stay there and stop looking around.”

Rachel stayed to talk to for a while and then about 15 minutes past the time that Geraldine had said it was up to Rachel if her sister came out, she said: “I could let you out of the corner now.”

Jeri didn’t reply.

“Well? Did you hear what I said?”

“You’re not going to let me are you?”

“No.” Rachel began to laugh.


But the conversation played on Rachel’s mind all day, long after Jeri was out of jug.

“Geraldine can I talk to you?” She asked that evening. “It is about what you said about letting Jeri down.”

“You took your time. I have been expecting this,” Geraldine said.


Geraldine had made her wait three days for this moment and now it was too late back out, Rachel thought as she stood at the door.

When she had first been told what would happen she had almost not gone through with it.

“Atonement is important, but it has to be hard or else you won’t feel better.” Geraldine had hugged her.

“But what if I don’t feel better?”

“You will, for a time anyway. But it may be something you will need more than once.”

Rachel had nodded.

Now she was standing in the hall trying to pluck up the courage to enter the room. She was dressed only in her blouse and at Geraldine’s suggestion her socks, ‘to keep out the chill.’

“But my bottom will be bare,” Rachel could hardly believe what she was saying.

“I will warm that up soon enough,” Geraldine had chuckled.

“You are going to enjoy this aren’t you,” Rachel accused.

“Oh yes,” her grandmother agreed. “This has been a long time coming.”

Now the day has arrived, Rachel thought ruefully. Then with one last deep breath she pushed open the door to the drawing room and entered.

Geraldine was waiting, cane in hand, while Jeri sat in a stuffed chair to one side. Her sister looked as apprehensive as Rachel felt. Jeri hugged herself and chewed at her lower lip. It was strange seeing her older sister half-naked in the middle of the day. It wasn’t right somehow, she thought, even though she had been in the same position often enough.

“Stand there and face the fireplace,” Geraldine said, her voice edged with hard earned authority.

Rachel swallowed and did as she was told.

“Now bend over.”

With her legs slightly parted she bent over and grabbed her ankles.

“Bottom out,” Geraldine snapped. “That’s it. Push it up a little more. Perfect.”

Rachel was blushing furiously at the posture she was now in, she could see that her grandmother certainly knew how to humble a girl.

“You must hold that pose until instructed otherwise or there will be consequences.”

“Yes ma’am,” Rachel whispered.

“My girls were always trained to take this pose for the cane, regardless who else was present. You will do the same. I assure you I have caned girls in front of governors, teachers, parents and many other people. This is your first caning, so I know it is hard. You will almost certainly incur penalty strokes, that is unavoidable, but it is all part of the learning process. Think yourself luck you are not strapped to the block. I still have one you know. I reserve that for the birch.”

Rachel wanted Geraldine to stop talking and get on with it. Every moment she waited just allowed the apprehension and embarrassment to build.

“Can you see your sister’s bare bottom from there?” Geraldine asked Jeri.

Jeri nodded dumbly her eyes fixed in awe at Rachel’s submission.

“I think I will spank you once a month from now on.”

Rachel gasped at Geraldine’s bombshell.

“But why?” She wailed.

“Because I can.” Geraldine shrugged. “And because it will do you good and keep you wary of my cane.”

Jeri wanted to protest that it wasn’t fair. But she had already been told that she would be spanked once a week even if she were good

“You know why don’t you?” Geraldine had said two days before.

Jeri had nodded.

“Tell me.”

Jeri’s mouth had hung open and she had blushed.

“Tell me,” Geraldine pressed her.

“So I won’t keep being naughty.”

“So you will stop finding excuses to need a spanking. One a week should hold you. It does mean however that I will use the cane as a punishment.”

Jeri had wondered what a really serious caning would be like. Now she was about to find out.

“Twelve strokes I think.”

Geraldine tapped the cane across Rachel’s bare bottom and waited until her granddaughter stopped squirming. Then she drew back her arm and struck with a flick of her wrist.

Rachel jumped up and clutched at her bottom.

“That is your first penalty.”

Rachel looked round in horror, but quickly resumed her position.

“Twelve still to come, plus one extra,” Geraldine intoned.

Then she struck again. Rachel gasped but managed to stay in place. Strangely it was the first stroke that was hurting most.

“Better,” Geraldine said, pausing to watch the white lines across Rachel’s bottom slowly flooded with a vivid pink.

She placed the third stroke below the first two, extracting a grunt from Rachel.

Then she waited.

The next two were close together and Rachel yelled. This time she dipped a little at the knees.

“Your second penalty,” Geraldine observed. “You now have, how many left?”

Rachel didn’t know. She glared at the fireplace in front of her for inspiration, a tear escaping her eye and rolling down her cheek.

“You now have nine.”

“Oh please,” Rachel begged.

“Shush. You are doing very well, but do try to keep count.”

Then she struck again exactly where Rachel sat.

“Yeow,” Rachel yelped.

Geraldine added two more slowly just below the same place.

Rachel let out a screeching wail at each, which continued for sometime as Geraldine paused.

“Good girl. Half way through now.”

Rachel was crying freely now, with great heaving sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she wept.

“You can be sorry later, when I put you in the corner. Now tell me how many have you left?”

Rachel’s eyes went wide in horror and she looked nervously over her shoulder.

“Six,” she suggested tentatively.

“Good girl. Are you ready?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Geraldine took up position again and tapped Rachel’s by now well-marked bottom. There were 10 strong plum-coloured ridges from just below the cleft of bent bottom arraigned down to just above her thighs.

The cane stroke took Rachel high, right between some existing marks and she yelled. It was all she could do not to let go of her ankles. It felt good to yell now she found. Unlike before she managed to hold her tongue between strokes, but her breathing was ragged and the tears spilled from her eyes.

The pain was unbelievable.

Geraldine spaced the next three, taking Rachel slowly with strokes one below the other. Rachel’s yells cascaded from her mouth and her resolve melted away.

The second from last was so hard that she almost broke her posture.

“Excellent,” Geraldine exclaimed. “One more.”

The last was a long time coming. When it arrived it felt like a hot wire across the underside of her bottom.

“Yeow.” Rachel blinked hard and struggled manfully not to rise.

“A lovely crop of welts,” Geraldine sighed. “You know I could put something on them to really ginger you up. But maybe next time. Into the corner with you.”

Rachel stood up slowly and broke into a fresh round of crying.

“I’m so sorry,” she bawled as she leaned on her grandmother.

“You can apologise to Jeri later. Now quickly now get in that corner and understand me, you will be there for the duration of this afternoon. If you are good I’ll set you a place at the mantle for supper.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Rachel thought the worst was over, but after a few minutes in the corner she realised her bottom pain wasn’t abating but growing if anything.

Jeri walked over for a closer look.

“Wow that looks sore? Do I look like that in the corner?”

“I suppose,” Rachel sniffed. “Please go away. I am so embarrassed.”

“I know. But why did you do it? I don’t blame you really I don’t.”

“I know. And I suppose that is why. It had been all my fault. I deserve it.”

“You are going to look pretty silly getting spanked every month. I mean you’re not a kid like me.”

“Maybe I deserve that too. Sometimes its good to be a kid and not worry,” Rachel risked a quick look round, but Jeri wasn’t looking. Her eyes were riveted by Rachel’s bottom.

“I know this is going to sound weird. But I can’t wait until we get punished together, like proper sisters.”

“You’re right it sounds weird. I wish I didn’t know what you mean? What time is it?”

“Best not to know. Really. I know. You are going to be there a long, long time. And it will feel longer. You’ll feel about two years old when Grandmother lets you out of the corner.”

“Tell me about it,” Rachel sighed.


19 Responses to “Grandmother, the punk and the princess”

  1. 1 paul little

    Really good realistic story will she get the strap or birch in the next instalment?

  2. Loved this. Going to be late for work though, could not stop reading.



  3. 3 paul1510

    DJ, lovely story, this one feels real.

  4. 4 Kaki

    Very good story, DJ. Was only going to stop by for a minute but couldn’t stop reading. Thanks

  5. Great story here, DJ. Loved the way Jeri knew what she needed, but Rachel had to be convinced. Would love to see another chapter following the next step in this domestic triangle. Both women still have a long way to go.

  6. 6 Kaki

    DJ, congratulations on this getting Chrossed. Great story.

  7. 7 SpanCox

    Thank you for publishing this truly gorgeous novell!
    This is the best spanking novel I’ve read in years. Possibly even the best since the 1990:s.

    Thank you so much!

    From Sweden with love,


    • 8 DJ

      Hi SpanCox

      thank you so much for that.

      just for clarification do you mean this short story: Grandmother, the punk and the princess, which might at best be described as a novella (or though I wouldn’t)

      or one of my novels the Russell Corner or the Academy?

      I suspect it is a small language issue 😉 as you are from Sweden (hey your English is better than my anything else) a novel being a multi-part story of over 50,000 words.

      Thanks again. DJ Black

  8. 9 SpanCox

    Dear DJ,

    Yes, it was the Grandmother short story I meant. Foreign languages can be hard some times. Thank you for correcting my mistake, I will offer you the Swedish word for “short story” in return – it is called “novell” in Swedish. 😉

    I have just found your lovely blog, please rest assured that I will spend some quality time here from now on. 🙂

    Best regards,


  9. 10 DJ

    Hey Spancox

    thanks novell = short story easy confusion.

    DJ 😉

  10. 11 amy

    this is the best spanking story i have ever read, i couls relate so much

    well sort of, i have not been spanked, but the emotions and characters put me there and so i wished i could relate more, or something

    anyway, will you be doing more on theses characters?

    • 12 DJ

      Maybe I will write a sequel

      not sure yet.

      Glad you liked it.

      So you have never been spanked – where does your interest come from?


      • 13 amy

        To be honest I think I am really umm vanilla I think it is referred to? If I am using the word right. I am 19 but I haven’t been on a date or anything. But it’s hard to explain, the idea of spanking sparks a curiosity. Which is a bit embarrassing since otherwise well otherwise I am just a shy normal girl I’d guess.

        But this story is quite relatable I think because I like the idea that someone cares enough as it says in order to take the time out to do something like this in order to help her let it out and things

        The idea someone cares and the phrases like taken in hand and things like that sound

        Maybe that is where it comes from, being shy and things I guess alot of people dont give the patience and the such and stop to care and so the idea someone does to this extent pushing through barriers or struggle,
        its odd and its good and its umm embarrassing.

        I dont know, sometimes I think I shoudlnt be thinking about it and sometimes I just cant seem to help but read these things and think

  11. 14 DJ

    Hi Amy,

    Vanilla is not always a good phrase as it usually refers to sexual matters and not everyone’s interest and pursuit of spanking is entirely sexual.

    You may have nascent feelings in this direction but from what you say that is not at the fore front of your feelings.

    You are neither alone or unusal. I have spoken to women your age who long for a paternal or maternal spanking. Sometimes these girls approach their parents or similar but I can understand that this might be too weird for everyone.

    You can read more about this at Sometimes a Girl (as long as you realise that a lot of it is fantasy) – but take your time and keep reading. You are not alone.

    Do you live at home with your parents still? Btw where is that – the country I mean – don’t say more.


  12. 15 amy

    okay, interesting, thank you

    I live in england, UK, away from my parents because im in education so live in halls.

    sometimes a girl? where is that

  13. 16 amy

    oh found it on the right,

  14. 18 Emilio

    Of course no age limit is the only way with such girls. And also wih 99% of unmarried young women.

  1. 1 - Chross Guide To The Spanking Internet

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