Goodbye Broadway and hello home sweet home

17May12

Broadway spankingThe pink Cadillac was ostentatious enough, or would have been if any of the folks here on the farm had known the word. ‘Show off’ were the words that came to Ma’s mind. Becky-Sue had finally come home from her world tour. Not that’s how her fans knew her; even the family name wasn’t good enough.

The platinum blonde in a spray-on leopard skin cat suit oozed from the car dripping in diamonds. The outfit did nothing to hide her generous curves and Ma was horrified at the way it clung closely to every fold of her big behind. The outfit was racy enough for New York, but it was downright scandalous for Iowa. Becky had seen something like it in a magazine on a young starlet on Kirk Douglas’s arm. The girl, whose name Becky had forgotten now, had been fated as the face of 1960. Well not if I have anything to do with it, she had thought and had called the designer to put first dibs on his next creation.

Becky pursed her full lips disapprovingly with a hint of scorn perhaps for the farm on which she had grown up.

“I thought you were coming home last week,” Ma said scowling.

“Oh that,” Becky said dismissively, “I got as far as New York and they offered me a one-night-stand, I just couldn’t say no to that.”

The man who got out the car with Becky was tall and smartly dressed. He had a pleasant face set underneath a thick head of dark, almost black hair, which served to emphasis the touch of grey at his temples. He was older than the fancy boys Becky usually hung out with and despite herself Ma smiled at him.

“I am afraid that it was all my fault Mrs Carmichael,” the man said apologetically. “I set up the Broadway deal before Carmen… I mean Becky told me she was coming home.”

Ma’s eyes narrowed. “I ain’t called Carmichael, I’m Mrs Winkler if anyone cares, Carmichael is just a name Becky goes by when she is setting herself up to be all high and mighty.”

“Oh I am terribly sorry Mrs… Winkler you say? Becky, why didn’t you tell me?” The man growled.

“Ma, everyone calls me Ma,” Ma said only slightly mollified, although truth be told she was more angry with her daughter than this stranger.

“Oh where are my manners,” the man said offering his hand, “I’m John Paxton, Becky has told me so much about you, I’m sorry you couldn’t make the wedding.”

“Mr Paxton,” Ma said shaking his hand. “What wedding was that?”

Becky glanced at her fingernails and looked bored.

John half turned to look at his wife, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You do know that Becky and I… we got married last month in Paris. I offered to fly the whole family out… I don’t have much of one of my own, but Becky said…”

“Married,” Ma gasped.

“Hey our Becky is married,” one of the kids screamed in delight and before John or Ma could say more a whole mess of Winklers spewed from the house whooping and hollering.

“Mrs Winkler… Ma, I can only apologise,” John said completely floored by what he now understood to have been his wife’s lies. Then to Becky he said, “I’ll speak to you later.”

*

It had been decided to have a party in honour of Becky’s return, and Becky would have expected no less. Despite the inconvenience of heating the water, she insisted on a bath and while Ma and her sisters set to preparing some food, Becky hovered over them criticising each intended dish.

A bath notwithstanding, she had already washed and changed into something more fitting for the farm, intending to save her party dress until later.

“You should try oysters, you haven’t lived until you have, they are divine. And lobsters, now that is heaven,” she gushed.

“I think Iowa’s a little far from the sea, I suspect they cost a fortune out here,” John chided her. “And besides I am looking forward to some good old home cooking.”

“Nonsense, how can you say that fine cuisine is as good as Ma’s home cooking? Why there is no comparison.”

John narrowed his eyes and said, “Tell me again why you family couldn’t come to France.”

“Oh that… why I… oh never mind that, I have to have my bath,” Becky said quickly heading for the parlour where a tin bath had been placed for her, the kitchen being occupied by her mother and sister’s cooking. “I can’t think why there is no proper bathroom.”

“There’s a perfectly good bathroom out back near the old outhouse, your Pa fixed it up four years ago as well you know,” Ma scolded her.

“Oh I can’t go traipsing all the way out there, what if there a reporters snooping form town?” Becky said dismissively as she flounced off.

“What that spoilt brat needs is a good spanking,” Ma sighed. “But I suppose she’s too high and mighty these days.”

“You know Mrs Winkler,” John said standing up and taking off his jacket, “You might have something there.”

“Ma, call me Ma,” Ma said, but by her face she looked puzzled.

“Ma,” John bowed to her and smiled.

Then carefully rolling up his sleeves he strolled after his wife.

Ma swallowed a smirked and thought; surely he’s not going to do it. Then on a hunch she followed slowly behind. By the time she entered the parlour Becky was already across John’s lap with her skirts turned up.

“What are you doing, you can’t do this…” Becky spluttered.

“Oh I think I can,” John growled, “Lie to me will you?”

Becky’s panties were down on her thighs when the first swat landed hard across her bare bottom.

“Johnny,” Becky screamed.

Ma took a step backwards, deciding to hang back.

“Now young lady, I warned you about playing the brat and now I find you have lied to me, not to mention your appalling behaviour ever since you arrived,” John growled.

“Please John I’m sorry, not here please not here,” Becky wailed.

“I think here is an excellent place, not to mention here,” John said landing another spank. “I warned you before we left Paris what any of your games would get you.”

“But Johnny please,” Becky wailed.

John ignored and spanked her again hard. “Just wait until I am through with you, if I have anything to do with it, you won’t sit easy for a day or two.”

“Ooh,” Becky exclaimed with a childish pout.

Over the next two minutes John put a sharp red edge to his wife’s bare bottom before his hand became a little sore.

“You have a very hard behind my girl,” he said wincing.

Ma remembered how hard it had been to make an impression on her daughter’s bottom while she was growing up and knew the remedy. Stepping into the room she took up a brush that had been on a table by the door.

“You may need this,” Ma said, handing John the brush.

“Oh Ma,” Becky wailed.

“Don’t you oh Ma me, once your husband is through with you, I might have some words of my own for you,” Ma growled. “Do you believe in corner time Mr Paxton?”

“Ma!” Becky exclaimed, “If you think…”

John grinned. “You know I think I might be persuaded Ma,” he said.

“John, Pur-lease,” Becky gasped.

“Be quiet,” John snapped brining the brush down hard across his wife’s bare bottom.

“Yah!” Becky yelled, loud enough for the rest of the family to hear.

“That’s the way Mr Paxton, I’ll leave you to it,” Ma said with a sense of satisfaction.

“John, call me John,” John said spanking down hard again.

“Johnny, jeez, please… oh God,” Becky gasped in wide-eyed surprise.

“I heard that,” Ma called out, “Don’t you curse in this house.”

“Oh John, I’m sorry,” Becky sobbed. “Yah…ah, I’m soreeee…”

John took another 10 minutes over the spanking that left Becky’s bottom leather hard and the dark side of maroon before he finally quit. By which time Becky was lost in tears and hugging into his legs.

“Hush,” John soothed, “You know you’ve got to remember that you’re my wife now and not the great ‘I am.’”

“I’m…” Becky heaved a sob before managing, “…sorry.”

“Good girl, now I think your mother wants you and if she doesn’t then you can go to whatever corner you used before you left home,” John said firmly.

“Yes Sir,” Becky sniffed.

*

After spanking his wife, John took a stroll onto the porch for a smoke to take in the scenery. He was in no hurry and in any case he figured that he should stay out of the kitchen for a while.

“Bit of handful,” said a voice beside him, “Becky-Sue I mean, my daughter always did have a high opinion of herself.”

John turned to see a man a little older than himself in a store bought cheap suit that had seen better days.

“Mr Winkler,” John said, guessing and extending his hand. “I’m…”

“John Paxton, my daughter’s new husband, so I hear. Pleased to meet you,” Mr Winkler said.

“I suppose I call you Pa,” John grinned.

“Can do, but most just call me Tom,” Tom said.

“Smoke,” John said.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

A short while later both men went into the kitchen to see how the womenfolk were getting on. To John’s surprise, Becky was still standing in the corner of the kitchen with her bare bottom exposed. She risked a short pouty look at him as he entered but then hastily turned back to put her nose back in the corner.

“You think maybe my wife’s learnt her lesson now,” John chuckled.

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Ma said, “Not inviting her own family to her wedding. I think once I am through here, I’m gonna send this little lady out to the yard to cut a switch and then me and her are gonna have a mighty long conversation. By the time I’m done she won’t sit for a week and she’ll eat of the mantle with her hiney in the breeze while we all eat. You hear me Becky-Sue Paxton?”

John was about to intervene when is wife said in a meek voice, “Yes ma’am.”

“I guess my daughter finally made it home, welcome to the family son,” Tom Winkler said patting his son-in-law on the back.

Ends.



4 Responses to “Goodbye Broadway and hello home sweet home”

  1. 1 paul1510

    Damian,
    yep, that is the way to do it, serves her right, excellent!
    Paul.

  2. 2 Tony

    will there be another installment ?

    • 3 DJ

      Who knows? Not me.

      It is possible, but there are already a few continuing stories on here – I want to conclude a few before starting any more. Thanks for the interest. I hope you enjoyed it.

      DJ 😉


  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch

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