A Fall of and Rise of Grace

29May11

“Now Prime Minister, just one final question,” Grace said, leaning forward cockily, already congratulating herself on another great show. It was then she noticed Samantha in the TV audience. “Um… eh, yes just one final question…”

Things had not been going so well for Grace of late. For one thing Martin had left her.

“Your damn career means more to you than I do,” had been his parting barb.

I am afraid you are probably right, she had thought sadly. It didn’t help that Martin was a struggling journalist on a medium-sized provincial newspaper and she was the nation’s number three TV journalist and undoubtedly the top woman broadcaster in the country.

The other matter had been the cocaine scandal. Not that she ever touched the stuff herself, but the newspapers were full of exaggerated orgy stories and pictures of the police raid at the party she had attended. Her career had survived, but the photographs of her being led half-drunk to a police car for questioning had been embarrassing.

Right now she could barely hear the PM’s answer as in her imagination the image of a scowling Samantha seemed to fill the room. No doubt she had come to express her disapproval of recent events.

Grace had known Samantha and her sister Julia for 18 years, ever since she had been the 16-year-old baby sitter for Julia’s daughter Melanie. Things had not always gone smoothly between them but over time the two sisters had been become almost surrogate parents to her and it had been their support that had been largely responsible for her successful career.

Julia was a single mother and once a week she and Samantha used to go out leaving Mel with Grace. The arrangement had worked out well for over two years, but in that time Mel had gone from being a cute biddable seven-year-old to an adventurous nine-year-old who needed watching.

Grace herself had also strayed from the path of serious student and want-to-be responsible adult, to a course more suited to a reckless teenager who had come to regard Mel as an impediment to her incredibly important social life.

Things had finally come to a head when Grace was 18.

“Can I try some?” Mel asked Grace one evening looking curiously at the beer in her babysitter’s hand.

“Sure, knock yourself out.” Hey that’s not such a bad idea, Grace thought suddenly, then I can get Paul or maybe Graham to come over.

“Yuk, it’s awful,” Mel pulled a face.

“You have to stick with it,” Grace said laughing.

Mel shook her head.

“Can we watch a movie instead,” she asked.

“It’s your bed time.”

“Aw…” Mel groaned, then added mischievously, “I know where Aunt Sam keeps the good stuff.”

“Good stuff?” Grace was intrigued.

“You know, the 18 certificate stuff, with killings and swearing and maybe even some… you know,” Mel added with a giggle.

“Look I don’t think…” Grace began.

“I’ll show you,” Mel yelled and ran off.

“Come back you little…”

Grace found Mel sitting on Samantha’s bedroom floor pulling out a box of videos from under the bed. Grace was about to tell Mel to put them back when she saw some of the titles, Wes Craven’s New Nightmare, Savage Nights and Bitter Moon, all recent movies that Grace hadn’t seen.

“Go to bed,” Grace said absently pushing the box back under the bed, but not before she gathered up a handful of the offerings, including some porn.

*

When Samantha and Julia opened the front door they saw Melanie curled up asleep halfway down the stairs. As Julie rushed to see to her daughter, Samantha quickly went into the lounge to check on Grace. With both girls fast asleep Samantha wondered if there had been a gas leak and somewhat panicked she checked the boiler, but the pilot flame was strong and clear blue.

“Wha-what’s up?” Grace groaned shaking herself awake. “Oh god… shit.”

Then Samantha saw the used cigarette in the saucer that served as an ashtray, the empty beer bottles and the various videos from her private collection.

Samantha folded her arms and fixed Grace with a withering look.

“Is Mel okay,” she called up.

“Yes. No thanks to our baby sitter,” Julia whispered loudly in response from the top of the stairs.

“I was…” Grace began nervously.

Samantha realised that Melanie had been sitting on the stairs before she slept. She had been in exactly the right position to watch the videos through the open door. Grace had been too self-absorbed or drunk to notice.

“Tell me. Do you think these are the kind of films Mel should be watching?” Samantha growled picking up the cigarette stub and kicking an empty bottle so that it rolled across the carpet.

Grace bit her thumb and looked away. She was busted. The beer and the cigarettes in the house were a no-no, the porn was probably worse. What was that about Mel?

“We found Mel asleep on the stairs. Did she even go to bed?”

“Is she okay?” Grace asked horrified, suddenly realising what had happened.

“Oh so now you’re concerned,” Samantha snapped. “Do you know what my mother would have done when I was your age if I had even considered a smoke, let alone, beer, porn tapes… and before you ask they were ex-husband’s and anyway I’m a grown woman.”

Samantha was spitting and Grace doubted she could say much to mollify her.

“Look…” She began.

“Look. You look. I have a good mind to call your mother and…”

Grace rolled her eyes up at this.

“Oh you don’t even care about that, do you?” Samantha spat. “What’s happened to you? If you were my girl I’d…”

“I am not your girl and don’t pretend you even care,” Grace sneered. “You don’t even have any kids, so what do you know?”

Samantha was speechless. It was all she could do to breathe. She had a flash of the terror she had felt when she had thought both girls had been gassed.

Grace saw Samantha’s mouth move wordlessly and realised that she might have gone too far.

“I’m sorry but…”

“Sorry. You’re sorry?” Samantha growled, “you’re not sorry. Let me show you sorry.”

Samantha dropped onto the sofa beside the 18-year-old and hauled her over her lap.

“What are you doing, you can’t…” Grace was too confused to even guess what was happening let alone protest it adequately.

“Let me show you how much I care,” Samantha said darkly with a sharp emphasis on the ‘I.’ “Let me show you what happened to me at your age and what would happen to mine if I had any.”

“Look okay I’m sorry,” Grace said in her reasonable tone that always worked with her mother.

“Shush little girl, just you be quiet,” Samantha soothed with mock sympathy that barely disguised her true rage. “You’re not sorry. I doubt if you even think you are. I’m going to show you sorry. By the time I am done with you, you will be the sorriest girl in town.”

Then she began to tug at the girl’s jeans, managing to pull them halfway over her ample puppy-fat bottom without undoing the belt.

“Samantha please just wait a minute…” Grace said frantically.

Samantha didn’t even pause. Grace’s belt was more for show than function and was strapped on loose. Somewhere under the struggling girl a button popped and the denim slid stutteringly over her smooth white flesh taking whatever she had on for underwear with it until Grace was mooning her.

“N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-noooooooooo,” Grace wailed, realising at last what was happening.

Samantha seized Grace’s wrists as she tried to reach back to cover herself, she remembered the technique her mother had used on her around the same age.

“Grace, yes,” Samantha said with a smile, punctuating her words with a tight spank.

The crack of the impact rebounded around the room before Grace connected the sound with her bottom, then she felt the sharp sting.

“Ow.”

Samantha watched the handprint develop where it crossed both bottom cheeks and then she began in earnest.

By the time Julia came downstairs Grace had the reddest bottom she had seen in near 20 years and the girl herself was bawling her head off for England. Grace had kicked her legs so much that scatter cushions had been sent across the room.

“Please I’m sorry,” Grace bawled, still struggling in Samantha’s firm grip.

“Not yet you’re not,” Julia spat.

“Oh please, please Julia stop her, a-huh-a-huh,” Grace sobbed.

But Julia just stood grim-faced and watched as the drama continued to unfold.

“I’m going to spank you until… until,” Samantha swallowed all the threats her mother had uttered in years past and spanked even harder. “You’re having the hardest spanking you have ever had, mark my words girl.”

“I’ve never been spanked, please,” Grace wailed almost incoherently.

“Then it is time you were,” Samantha raged.

“You remember the strap mother used,” Julia asked her elder sister, not taking her eyes from Grace’s swollen red bottom.

When they had been girls their mother had often had them side by side over the back of her settee for a prolonged strapping. It was something they rarely cared to remember, but had always kept them on the straight road, Julia now realised.

“Good idea. It’s hanging in my wardrobe,” Samantha said angrily, realising that she was running out of steam.

By the time Julia returned to the room with the strap Grace was hugging into the sofa sobbing hard with her jeans at her ankles and her angry red bare bottom thrusting up at her.

“Shall we give her a moment?” Samantha said quietly as she tried to get her breath back.

“As long as she needs,” Julia said bitterly, “so long as she is standing in that corner.”

Samantha snorted her agreement. Another of their mother’s little tricks, she remembered.

Grace thought of running when she saw the strap, she wanted to beg and say she was sorry, but one meant that she could never come back and the other would be futile, she realised.

The corner was a humiliation beyond embarrassment and she almost wished to get it over with, but her bottom throbbed quite enough from just Samantha’s hand and the idea of the strap any time soon was too much.

“Please I’m sorry,” Grace whispered.

“Are you? Really?” Samantha asked, half believing her.

“Truly.”

“Then you will take the strap without protest.”

Grace couldn’t bring herself to agree, although she knew it was deserved, so she burst into a fresh bout of tears and shuffled over to the corner.

*

After half an hour Julia led Grace from the corner by her ear.

“Have you any idea how it feels to find your daughter like that? Do you know how much you have let us down?”

Grace opened her mouth to answer but closed it again fast. The strap in Julia’s hand was short and thick and looked as though its hard leather surface had been polished by decades of use on errant girls’ bottoms.

“My grandmother used this on my mother’s bare bottom more times than she could count. Then she got to use it on us, and not so long ago at that,” Julia explained. “Believe me it hurts more than you will believe. Ten minutes with this and neither Sam nor I could sit for a fortnight.”

“Please I’m sorry,” Grace whimpered.

“Are you? If you are tell me how much you deserve this.”

Grace looked at Samantha and back at the strap.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Say it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Grace said pleadingly, “I deserve it.”

“Deserve what?”

“The strap.”

“Very hard on your bare bottom?”

“Yes,” Grace lisped.

“Say it,” Julia growled.

“On my bare bum,” Grace managed, all but swallowing the words.

“Get your bottom over that settee.”

Grace hobbled over sheepishly wondering with every step if the strap would hurt as much as Samantha’s hand.

It seemed to take an age to reach the place of ‘execution’ and once she got there she folded herself over the back of the sofa, acutely aware of the scratchy coarse material on her exposed lower belly as she did so.

“Over a bit more,” Samantha said quietly. She knew from personal experience that after a certain point bent over the back of the furniture it was almost impossible to get up unassisted and a girl was held in place by gravity no matter how much she struggled. And Grace was going to struggle long before Julia was done with her.

For a young woman almost out of her teens, Grace had a lot of puppy-fat, although at the same time her bottom was firm and tight as only a very young girl’s tail end can be. Her undignified position both served to round out and split her bottom so that even Samantha blushed, knowing as she did that not so long ago she had been so placed.

Then all at once Julia brought the strap down with a will, the resounding thwack making Sam jump and left her wondering if it might not wake Mel.

For Grace the sound was the least of her worries. The band of fire seared her so that she screamed straight off.

“Oh god,” she grunted.

“Felt it did you?” Julia asked with a growl.

“Oh god yes,” Grace wailed in a lost voice drenched in tears.

The strapping that followed was slow and hard, maybe at a rate of 12 blasting thwacks in the first minute. By then of course the welts and blisters that grazed her bottom were sandpaper-raw and decidedly edging towards purple.

Not that Julia was going to stop there. She took the girl to the edge of coherent regret and might have gone on in her disappointed anger, but at the eight minute Samantha touched her arm gently.

“That’s enough Jules,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Grace wept.

*

In the years that followed Grace had become very close to Samantha, Julia and Melanie. The two women had taken her in hand, often literally and when she had decided to become a journalist they had been very supportive and had encouraged her.

Over time Grace had come to learn that she was never too old for a good spanking if either Julia or Samantha decided she had one coming. And heaven help her if they both fixed on one. She rarely got off with just a session over one of the sisters’ knees on those occasions, a double punishment meant the strap. At those times she prayed that it was Julia wielding it because compared to Samantha, she was the soft touch.

After that first time, Grace had not sat comfortably for two weeks and not at all for a few days and that was the least she ever got from the strap. A merciful punishment was a simple dose of the hairbrush, a monthly occurrence from then on.

The most humiliating times were when Mel was there to watch, although it was not so many years before Melanie too was on the receiving end.

Grace always had mixed feelings when she watched one of those sessions, when she had the luxury of just being a spectator, that is. Often the two girls got it together as the sisters must once have done, side-by-side over the back of the sofa. A particularly shaming experience when you’re 27 or even 34.

“Prime Minister, thank you. This is Grace Johns and you have been watching News Focus,” Grace signed off, her eyes darting everywhere but at Samantha watching in the TV audience.

*

Samantha and Julia were waiting for her outside with the car.

“Julia, how nice, I saw Samantha in the audience but I had no idea you were here too,” Grace said as evenly as she could manage.

“Did you not?” Julia said curtly.

“We have spoken with your producer, it seems you have a few weeks leave coming,” Samantha cut in trying to sound more reasonable.

“Yes but I was hoping to…” Grace was about to spin a yarn about going away with Martin, but they must know that it was over. So she tailed off and looked forlornly at her shoes.

“You’re coming home with us,” Julia said quietly.

“Look I don’t want… I mean I don’t need…”

“Don’t need what? A jolly good hiding, I think you do,” Samantha growled.

“It wasn’t me. It was just a showbiz party, there are always a few coke heads there. I never touch the stuff, I…”

“So you had no idea there was any cocaine at the party?” Julia asked pointedly.

Grace blushed and her jaw tightened. Of course she did, if she had thought about it.

“It was work. Kind of,” she said sullenly like she might have when she was 18.

“And you were visibly drunk,” Samantha added. “At a showbiz party, that’s work for you is it? It was all over the newspapers.”

“Just the tabloids, I…” Grace sighed and threw up her arms in defeat.

“Get in the car,” Samantha said firmly, “in the back with me.”

Grace looked into the deep shadow of the back of the car like it was a prison sweat box. She wanted to ask why Samantha was going to sit in the back, but thought better of it.

“Mel won’t be there will she?” Grace asked trying to sound conversational, but they all knew her real concern.

“Funny you should say that,” Julia said enigmatically.

“Look…” Grace said trying to assert herself like the confident 34-year-old she was.

“Don’t you look me,” Samantha snapped, “you look.”

Before Grace could say more Samantha had pulled her over her knee in the back of the car. Grace didn’t struggle and thanked the gods it was getting dark and no one could see. The tabloids would have a festival with this, she thought ruefully.

“Something on account,” Samantha said almost cheerfully raising the hem of Grace’s expensive tailored skirt, before deciding it was too tight and began to remove it all together. “Oh look a thong, we’ll have that off as well, disgusting thing.”

“Please Samantha not here,” Grace wailed as they pulled up at some traffic lights, “I’ll be recognised.”

Samantha looked at Grace lying face down, her white bottom the only visible part of her and said, “is there something else you haven’t told us?”

“No,” Grace said indignantly, “you know what I mean.”

“Good,” Samantha said laying on the first spank.

“Yeow,” Grace yelped, but it was to be the first of many as Samantha set to spanking her all the way home.

*

By the time they reached Samantha and Julia’s house Grace was feeling very sorry for herself, and not a little sore. The spanking had stung, but it had been designed more to humble her than really hurt. The main event, she realised, was yet to come.

“Just you wait my girl,” Samantha rasped as she opened the car door.

“Wait,” Grace protested, “I have to get dressed.”

“It’s dark enough, besides I’m sure the neighbours have seen it all before,” Samantha replied taking Grace by the scruff of her neck as she half led and half dragged her from the back of the car.

Grace blushed. She could certainly remember some truly humiliating events in the past, but she had been younger then and not so well-known.

Samantha couldn’t help a wry smile at the sight of the cringing celebrity journalist running at a crouch to the front door, her bare bottom mooning anyone in the street who might happen to pass by or glance out of their window.

“Please Julia open the door,” Grace wailed.

“Don’t rush me, I have to find my keys,” Julia replied absently.

It took an age for the familiar metallic rattle of the key to finally announce the door’s opening. Grace didn’t wait, but bolted through it before someone could see her exposed condition.

If she hoped the hall would be a sanctuary she was to be disappointed. There inside were two people. Grace squealed and clutched at her exposed sex.

“All girls together,” Samantha chuckled at Grace’s response as she flipped on another light.

It was then that Grace saw that the two women inside were like her, naked below the waist. One she realised at once was Mel, although her old friend was facing the wall. The other was a dusky brunette who Grace had not seen before.

“This is Pam, Mel’s friend,” Julia explained. “As you can see they have both been as badly behaved as you. Little Mel and Pam have decided to become a pot heads.”

‘Little Mel’ was 25 these days, Grace thought drily, and who the hell was Pam.

As if reading her mind Samantha said, “Pam was at college with Mel and we took her under our wing some years ago.”

“I see,” Grace said blushing.

“Hello Grace,” Mel said miserably.

“Hi,” Pam squeaked.

Grace was impressed with the new girl’s statuesque bottom, which was large and firm, with a very tight split. From her complexion Grace decided she must be Mediterranean or even Eurasian.

“Hello,” Grace replied awkwardly, “how did you get to join this circus?”

“I was kind of adopted,” Pam said momentarily turning around and offering Grace a grimace. “What’s your excuse?”

Grace was taken with how beautiful she was and wondered what it was about girl’s like them who submitted to such treatment.

“Same story I ‘spose.” Was her best answer for the moment.

“No idle chatter girls. Grace you can join the girls and face that wall until we’re ready for you.”

*

The three women had been facing the wall for over half an hour since Grace had arrived. Who knows how long Mel and Pam had been before that.

Anticipation, embarrassment, apprehension, annoyance and indignation raced through Grace’s mind. I’m a well-paid well-respected journalist. I have my own TV show and this is completely ridiculous, she thought. She glanced sideways at Mel to see that despite the familiarity of her situation she was blushing hard. I should turn around and tell Sam and Julia that I am too old to be treated like this.

“Grace stop fidgeting,” Samantha scolded somewhere behind her. Grace started at the reprimand and felt her ears burn.

“We might as well get on with it,” Julia sighed.

“Alright, front and centre girls. Come in here and get your sorry bottoms over that sofa.

Grace swallowed and turned about, her mouth hung open as if she were about to protest, but Pam and Mel traipsed past looking decidedly sheepish and obediently bent over the back of the settee. The moment for protest has passed, Grace thought ruefully and reluctantly followed suit.

Once all three women had placed their humbled bottoms in the required jutting posture they all knew so well, Julia picked up the strap and moved behind them.

“Do you come here often?” Grace whispered to Pam.

“Mmm,” Pam whimpered and pulled a face and then hissed, “far too often.”

Then they fell silent and time seemed hang like lead and the only sound was womanish breathing and the slight rasp of leather.

The crack made them all jump and Grace glanced at Mel just in time to see her jerk forward as she yelped.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, here it comes, Grace thought frantically. However Mel was to receive about a dozen more yet, by which time she was in bits.

Grace braced herself, but it was Pam’s turn.

Pam clawed at the back of the upholstery as she tried to handle it, an attempt that was to last to five strokes. Then she screamed. One minute she was grimacing comically, taking it all in her stride and then her face screwed up in a prelude to cracking and she began sobbing like a young girl.

I’ve done it before, it’s okay, it’s fine, Grace told herself in a mantra. Then something exploded behind her and someone put a blow torch to her bottom.

“Yikes,” she gasped.

Julia smiled as Grace pushed her bottom back to meet the next stroke. She was certain that it was an unconscious reaction on Grace’s part, one that had come from years of practice. There was something satisfying about matching her bottom to the heavy red of the younger women. Two sets of dozen and then Samantha can take a turn, she thought.

“Yeow,” Grace announced as Julia placed the next stroke.

Samantha glanced at her sister’s pensive and determined face and thought ahead to the three tender bottoms standing in a row at the breakfast bar the following day. The certainly won’t be sitting if she had anything to do with it. It was going to be a long night.

Ends.



6 Responses to “A Fall of and Rise of Grace”

  1. 1 Emilio

    25 yo or older are ugently in need of fair and effective domestic discipline.
    Best and happiest women I’ve known wer all raised with a lot of parentals spankings, of course with no age limit.

  2. 2 fatherjim

    Certainly an entertaining story. One which I’ve pondered myself on occasion. I remember reading that Mary Hart was threatened with a paddling if she participated in a beauty pageant, which she did join. Never read if her father followed through.

    Leeza Gibbons, Diane Sawyer, And Kathleen Sullivan are a few more I have pictured in just this scenario! Oh, the list goes on!

    One wonders if any poweful, successful women ever do get their just desserts! One can only hope!

    Thanks for sharing!

    Jim

  3. 3 Karl Friedrich Gauss

    Nice re-imagining of real-life into fiction, D. J. Nicely told.

    Makes one wonder how unusual this sort of thing really is.

  4. 4 Patron

    This is one of my favs. Always great to see you return to adult F/F. You handle it like no other. Great work.

    PEH

  5. 5 George

    A young woman, in her firt 20s and still under mom’s hairbrush, told me that her mother got her share bending on an armchair with mom’s carpet beater, a rattan tool leaving bruises for one whole week.
    Quite serious, nobody in 2012?

    giorgio.imzadi@gmail.com


  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch - Chross Guide To The Spanking Internet

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