These Lands Beyond (part 1 of 8)


These lands beyondChelsea sighed and slipped her fingers beneath her sunglasses and rubbed at her now closed eyes until a myriad of coloured spots danced in the self-imposed darkness. She had been reading for a college essay all morning and she was bored.

In front of her was a tuft of grass and she plucked at a strand and wound it around one finger. Beyond that was the cliff’s edge and a more or less sheer drop to the sea, but she had to lift her head and crane her neck to see it.

“I’m bored,” she said lazily stretching out her long tanned legs.

“Uh-huh,” her friend Candida said distantly as she turned another page of her own book.

Then Candida did a double-take and scornfully glanced up at Chelsea, who was making a moustache with her shaggy blonde locks by trapping her hair between her nose and an exaggerated pout.

“If the boys could see you now,” Candida sighed, “The cutest girl in school… If I only had half your looks…”

“Oh, I don’t know, you turn enough heads,” Chelsea said pointedly as she dropped the hair and idly turned back a corner of the page on her book. “I wish I had your brown eyes instead of boring blue.”

“Boys don’t look at a girl’s eyes,” Candida snorted, running her eyes over the ample hump formed by Chelsea’s bottom under the thin cotton dress.

Chelsea dipped her chin and pulled out the front of her dress to examine her cleavage.

“You don’t do so badly there either,” Chelsea said, looking back and forth to compare her bust with her friend’s.

“I was thinking more of the other end,” Candida said ruefully.

“Oh come on, your small round buns are high and tight, I just have a big behind.” Chelsea switched her view to the one over her shoulder.

It was true that Candida’s best asset was more easily obscured by her clothes, a subtlety lost on most boys, but it wasn’t always so well hidden. Then Chelsea remembered something and a smile played about her lips.

“Quite a few boys were keen on your tail last summer,” she said carefully, her mouth struggling with a smirk. “You know at the barbecue when you went for a swim rather than watch the sausages on the…”

“Yes well…” Candida cut her off with a blush.

“I mean once your mom had done spanking your bare bottom in front of everyone, the boys were all rather keen,” Chelsea persisted, “Especially when you were made to stand in the corner of the yard for most of the afternoon.”

“Chelsea,” Candida snapped, punching Chelsea’s arm.

Chelsea rolled over laughing and took in the great expanse of sky above them and the huge rolling white clouds against the blue.

Candida glowered at the unseen words on the pages in front of her and fought against the blush that refused to die. She had never been so humiliated, although barely anyone gave it a thought now. She remembered Chelsea’s exploits in that regard; half the neighbourhood had seen her bare behind. But the mischievous Chelsea just seemed to shrug such things off. Why do I get so embarrassed?

To change the subject Candida said, “If you’re bored, why don’t read your book?”

“It’s so boring,” Chelsea sneered, “It’s all about the banned books and the World Beyond. Who cares?”

“I always found that stuff quite interesting. All those places, they seem so real. A whole world that inspired our civilisation, just think,” Candida said dreamily.

“Who cares if Americana was based on a place called Usa, or Europa on some other place with a similar name I don’t even remember now? No wonder these books were banned. The World Beyond sounds dreadful. No one even knows if ever existed,” Chelsea said scornfully.

“Greg Mansfield says…” Candida began.

Chelsea mimicked her.

“Don’t,” Candida punched her arm again.

Well… it’s Greg Mansfield this and Greg Mansfield that…” Chelsea rolled her eyes up.

“He’s smart and he’s a good teacher,” Candida said defensively.

“Aren’t you a bit old to be having crushes on teachers? I remember back in High School when you had a crush on…” Chelsea teased.

“It wasn’t a crush, I was 18,” Candida pouted, “And nor is this.”

“Alright, alright, what does Mr Greg bloody Mansfield say about the World Beyond?” Chelsea imitated a booming echoing voice as she said the last two words.

“He says that Usa and… and all those places in the books did exist.” Candida was excited and quickly warmed to her subject. “He says that things got so bad, what with wars and stuff, that some people made ideal versions of their world for themselves and their friends and just went into them and never left. We are the descendants of all those folks.”

“Sounds like heresy to me,” Chelsea said gloomily.

“Oh Chelsea, who cares about that, these days? That’s why they stopped banning the books,” Candida said wearily.

“I suppose… oh shit, look at the time. I have to run or Uncle Sedge will blister my behind from now until Sunday,” Chelsea pulled a face and started gathering up her books.


Despite being late Chelsea didn’t hurry overmuch. The truth was that she didn’t care much for Candida’s philosophical ideas. She had been brought up on the Holy Church of Day and Night. She didn’t care to think over much on what they believed either, but if Uncle Sedge suspected that she was anything but a devout sister of the faith or that she had been listening to any heretical ideas, then she wouldn’t sit down for a month and in the worst way. She might even be stopped from seeing Candida.

Still it wouldn’t do to be late, even if the home time set was arbitrary. If she were to get in more than 10 minutes after five then aunt’s disapproving look would become a scolding. Much more than that, or if they had visitors for dinner then… she didn’t finish the thought and wondered if she should hurry up anyway.

The cliff road was dusty and led partly away from Baxter compound. If she kept on it and followed the coast, then it would take her to town, where she could pick up the track home. Otherwise she had to cut across the fields and risk getting her dress mussed up crashing hedges and jumping ditches. She pondered this for a moment.

Normally she would have just run across the fields and hope to slip into her room to change before being seen. But it was too late for that. Being a few minutes later, but in good order, might be better.

“Cleanliness is next to godliness,” she heard her uncle intone.

Although she knew full-well that his main concern was that a Baxter girl always seen to be presentable and respectable. Her guardians’ attitude to this depended, as always, on whether or not the Baxters had company. A scolding could become a spanking at the drop of a visitor. In the Baxter household, punishment could be a lottery.

“The town road I think,” Chelsea said aloud with a grin.

The truth was Chelsea was always going to take the town road. If she hadn’t let time get away from her, she would have suggested that Candida accompany her anyway. Some of the boys were back from preaching in Europa and better still she had heard that three girls had been caught skinny dipping on the beach and the town elders were going to make an example of them.

If she hurried up then she might just get time to linger in town and still get home before she was too late.

As she picked up the pace the red roofs of the town began to appear. She could see them nestled between lush green woodland that ran down to the sea. Then the road fell away as the vale opened up below and Chelsea began to run.


Chelsea arrived home by the side gate and crossed the law to the house. She was, at a guess, some 45 minutes late, which was borderline punishment territory by 15 minutes. At least, she thought, she had got home within the hour.

Part of her knew that her side trip to town had put her tail-end in jeopardy even before she had risked it, but she hadn’t counted on her excursion being such a disappointment. There had been no public chastisements and very few young men about. It might not have mattered, but Mrs Crier, a friend of Uncle Sedge had button-holed her for a good 10 minutes about nothing in particular and it had been more than Chelsea’s bottom was worth to be rude to an elder’s wife.

How to play it? Chelsea thought as she composed herself. Breeze in with a casual apology and accept a good scolding. That would work if dinner had been delayed a little. Otherwise she might be put in the corner while the others ate and spanked directly after. The latter fate would be followed by being sent to bed without supper.

Then Chelsea heard the voices and her heart sank. Visitors, oh crap, she cursed. Now Uncle Sedge will feel obliged to make an example of his wayward ward.

“Chelsea, is that you?” Aunt Sarah called from the atrium-lounge.

On another day Chelsea might have quipped something like, “No it’s the dawn patrol and the town band,” but only if she had been on time and certain there were no visitors.

Today, however, it was time to roll out the eggshells to walk on. The atrium-lounge was a room used only when there were special visitors. Oh crap and crapola on a bicycle, she cursed again, it looks like a visit to Shitsville for a bath is on the cards; right up to my neck. It was her third and second best curses, either one of them would earn her a cessation of sitting rights for week if Uncle Sedge heard her say them out loud. In addition, sometimes on such occasions, Aunt Sarah’s soap routine could be applied at either end. She cringed at the thought.

“Yes, sorry Aunt Sarah, I was… delayed,” Chelsea ventured.

Chelsea tugged down the front of her dress and quickly inspected herself in the hall mirror. The grass stain was light, she noticed, and chewed at her lip.

“Oh lore,” she whispered to the girl in the glass.

“Chelsea, come in here at once.” Aunt Sarah sounded… strained.

“Surely, ma’am,” Chelsea said more brightly than she felt. Showtime, she thought.

All eyes turned to her as she stepped into the atrium and she offered up her sunniest smile. There were three visitors as well as Alice, Uncle Sedge’s other ward, Aunt Sarah and Uncle Sedge himself. All were sitting at around the white marble atrium table on which sat Uncle Sedge’s decanter of honeyed brandy wine.

The visitors were the Most Reverend Gates, Pastor of the Church of Day and Night there in town, his daughter Cecilia, a girl her own age who attended the same ladies college in town, and his son Stephan Gates, apparently back from his mission abroad.

If she had been anything other than five or 10 minutes late, the prospect of sharing a meal with the dreamy Stephan would have more than made up for the disappointment in town. As it was, Chelsea was fearful that things could get really quite unpleasant.

The best case scenario she could conjure was a quick scolding and a promise of a later spanking before being sent to her room without supper. She blushed just to think about it.

“Look at the state of you,” Aunt Sarah chided, “Whatever have you been doing?”

Reverend Gate’s eyes narrowed and a significant look passed between him and Uncle Sedge.

“You haven’t been swimming on the beach without a costume?” Uncle Sedge growled like a bear.

He wasn’t being unkind, Chelsea knew, but Reverend Gates had obviously told him about the scandal in town and now the elders would be on the warpath with yet another no-tolerance initiative. No bottom would be safe for weeks.

“If I had taken my dress off, then it wouldn’t be in such a mess.” The words slipped out before she could call them back. “I mean…”

“I see,” Uncle Sedge said in a tight voice, his anger appropriately suppressed. “Is that how you wish to play it?”

“I’m sorry Sir but…”

“Now you intend to answer me back,” Uncle Sedge growled as the Reverend nodded his approval.

Chelsea looked forlornly at Aunt Sarah and the others at the table. Her aunt looked embarrassed, although there was sympathy in Alice and Stephan’s eyes. Cecilia just looked impassive as if she were above such things.

“No Sir, I… I’m sorry, no excuse.” Chelsea occasionally knew when to shut up.

“Why are you late?” Uncle Sedge asked with a sigh.

Chelsea swallowed and this time thought carefully before she spoke up. If she told the truth, then Candida would at the very least get a very sound spanking. Not because she had done anything, but because now she would be guilty by association. Even if her friend’s explanation was accepted, a spanking would be seen as preventative measure and honour would demand it.

In truth, Chelsea knew that she should apologise and tell the truth and take her spanking. It would be just, as would Candida’s and no one would blame her. Not even Candida, she was sure. However, following the scandal in town and what with the presence of the Reverend Gates, it was almost certain that the mere mention of Candida would drag her friend into the kind of church punishment that her sometime comrade-in-sin would crawl over hot coals to avoid.

On the other hand, if she lied and the lie was discovered, Candida might get worse and Chelsea certainly would. A lie was a double soaping offence. The thought of a bar between her teeth as an enema nozzle was pressed between well-spanked cheeks suddenly assailed her.

All this touched Chelsea’s mind in a moment and an answer further delayed would be taken as a lie for sure.

“I was up on the cliffs reading for my college work,” Chelsea supplied. It was the truth. Then knowing it would pre-empt the inevitable question, ‘were you alone?’ she added, “It’s all this philosophy about the World Beyond. I don’t get it. I lost track of time.”

“What’s this?” The Reverend spoke now, anger touching his voice like a taper to barbecue kindling.

My behind is about to be smoked, Chelsea thought ruefully.

“It’s part of her course. It is an approved book,” Uncle Sedge explained.

“Heresy,” Reverend Gates spat.

“Oh I agree, but since the unbanning of certain books, they are essential reading. Otherwise how will our youth know the truth?”

Chelsea could have kissed Uncle Sedge at that moment.

“I don’t agree,” Reverend Gates said as if he were about to explode.

Aunt Sarah sat forward now, her mouth working as if she were about to speak. Don’t, Chelsea thought. A woman interrupting two elders was the height of bad manners. Chelsea had not the slightest doubt that Sarah would be sent to the corner to await a sound chastisement from Uncle Sedge if she spoke up now. Normally a humiliation that Alice and her found amusing, but in the presence of the Reverend and his family it would be too embarrassing.

“I prayed on it and decided to allow it,” Uncle Sedge said firmly, ignoring his wife and fixing the reverend with his eyes. “Chelsea has not erred on that account.”

“Quite so, forgive me,” Reverend Gates demurred.

While the Reverend was still in retreat Uncle Sedge asked, “Tell me Chelsea, what is your sin?”

“I-I was unacceptably late for supper and although unintentional, I was thereby rude to your guests… our guests…” Chelsea blanched and relied on long hours schooled in reciting from the holy text to get through the shaming words of her mantra.

“And?” Uncle Sedge had a hint of pride in his eyes as if she were saving the family honour.

“I was impertinent and answered you back, for which I am truly sorry Uncle.” It was true, Chelsea thought sadly. Sometimes she deserved every spanking she got for her stupid mouth.

“Very well, you have delayed this meal for long enough. Go and change into a penitent dress and go stand in the corner,” Uncle Sedge directed.

Chelsea gaped and went white. She noticed Cecilia smirk and Stephan shift uncomfortably in his chair as if he had suddenly found something unexpected in his pants. Then the blood returned to her face in such an unholy rush that she thought her ears would melt.

“Chelsea, go on now, you know it’s just,” Aunt Sarah said quietly.

“Yes Ma’am,” Chelsea managed and then turned to muster as much dignity as she could as she walked from the room.


The gown was laid out on the bed as Chelsea, already naked, stood looking at it in the temporary privacy of her own room.

Chelsea was no stranger to the penitent dress. There was hardly a woman in Americana who was not. True it was more commonly employed among followers of the Church of Day and Night and even among the faithful it was an experience that would touch their lives perhaps once or twice a year. However, in the Baxter household it was used rather more frequently.

Barely a month went by when one or other of the Baxter women were not put in the corner wearing the gown to contemplate their sins and though it was shameful for Chelsea to admit, on more than half of those occasions it was her. Alice was a not so close second, but even Aunt Sarah was not immune.

Chelsea had to admit that it was an effective punishment as generally where she could shrug off most spankings, even at the best of times the shame and embarrassment of the gown was hard time. With three visitors in the house, including two men and a girl she was at college with, this was hardly the best of times.

“Please, please, please let me die now,” she prayed, but answer came there none. “Shit.”

The gown itself was a simple grey smock that was fully open at the back from the waist down. On reaching a marriageable age, most women had to go through the thoroughly embarrassing experience of going to the town dress-maker for a fitting and since the gown was worn without any underwear at all, that in itself was a trying experience.

Chelsea had to admit that it would not be her first sojourn in the gown while they had visitors, but it was rare enough and almost always in the past it had been in front of Sarah’s female friends or her own. In fact the only time she had had a more humiliating episode had been when she had spent an afternoon amusing Alice and her friends while she awaited a particularly stiff slice of pain from Uncle Sedge.

A movement on the stairs outside told her someone was coming to see where she had got to. If it were her aunt or Uncle Sedge, then she had better be in the gown by the time they came to fetch her.

Snatching up the dress, Chelsea slipped it over her head and pulled her arms through the long sleeves. Then she began working the buttons in front that up from the waist to her neck so that the whole thing fit snuggly and modestly to her upper body. The skirts of the dress then hung in expansive folds over legs in front and all the way down to her ankles.

From the front she would appear as respectable enough to make any grandmother proud. Only from the back was the exposure obvious.

“Chelsea,” Alice called.

Chelsea relaxed a little. No doubt Alice hadn’t entered in case she was questioned as to if Chelsea had been ready when she was fetched. Good girl, Chelsea thought. Abusing the ritual by stalling was another sin and would demand extra punishment.

“I’m almost ready,” Chelsea called back realising that in her haste she had got two or three buttons out of alignment and had had to redo them. “Okay, I’m coming.”

“Did you do this on purpose?” Alice hissed, throwing an anxious look down the stairs in case Aunt Sarah had followed her up.

“No, of course not; how was I to know that the Reverend would be here?” Chelsea hissed back.

“Because Uncle Sedge is a senior elder and Reverend Gates’ son came back to from his mission today. You might have guessed that pastor would want to show him off on his return,” Alice whispered.

“I didn’t think,” Chelsea groaned.

“Anyway, you are such a show-off, you and your bravado. Sometimes I think you like being punished,” Alice chided.

It was true in a way, Chelsea thought. She loved to dance along the line and get away with it. Only the threat of a real spanking kept the game interesting. Besides a good spanking and a good cry from Uncle Sedge once in a while made her feel better. The downside was the darn gown or being sent for a switch beyond the compound wearing it. Or worse still days like these. Shit and crapola, Alice is right, I should have known the Reverend and his son would be here.

“Come on,” Alice prompted, “Are you trying to get me spanked too?”

If only, Chelsea thought, but I think this show is all mine.

“I’m coming,” Chelsea sighed, “Ooh, how do I get myself into these things.”


Aunt Sarah was waiting by the door to the atrium-lounge when they got there.

“Go and sit down Alice,” she said sternly.

“Yes ma’am,” Alice replied, her eyes darting from Chelsea’s exposed bottom to Uncle Sedge and the visitors watching them expectantly from the table inside.

“Oh, Aunt Sarah,” Chelsea simpered.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” her aunt whispered.

“Yes ma’am,” Chelsea pouted, colour now suffusing her face noticeably.

Here comes purgatory, she thought, and then mustering as much dignity as she could, she marched slowly towards the traditional corner of the atrium, carefully placing one foot in front of the other as if she were in a pageant. Uncle Sedge and the Reverend sat stony-faced as Chelsea passed the table trying not to make eye contact, the pastor even shaking his head a little in disapproval.

Stephan shifted a little in his chair, his eyes drawn to Chelsea’s exposed bottom before respectfully swivelling back to emulate the elders. As he did so he caught his sister’s eye and could see she was struggling not to laugh.

Cecilia sucked in her lips and tried to distract herself by looking at the wine glass on the table and turning it with her fingers. She couldn’t wait to tell the girls in class about this, but the tale would be somewhat soured if she laughed and earned herself a spanking of her own.

Only Alice and Sarah looked openly sympathetic.

The corner was set well back away from the table so everyone would have a good view without overtly turning throughout dinner; all five courses of it. Oh brother, Chelsea thought bitterly as she took up position facing the wall heaving a great sigh and then stood to attention. Ta da, she thought, I give you my hiney…. Yay, go Chelsea. But if spoken, the words would have been as ash. Sheesh, how do I keep on doing this?


Chelsea had hoped that her spanking would be carried out after the guests left, but sadly it was not to be. The dinner over, she was summoned from the corner and set before them with her head bowed.

“You know you deserve this don’t you?” Uncle Sedge sighed.

“Yes Sir,” Chelsea said meekly. It had been a long hour and a half in the corner.

Cecilia took a sip of wine to hide her smile. Not that anyone was looking at her.

“Very well,” Uncle Sedge stood up and began to remove his formal frock coat.

For Chelsea, everything seemed to turn sepia and Uncle Sedge was suddenly 10 feet tall. She wondered if he would put her across his knee. The humiliation of that before everyone would ensure that her woe would last all semester by the time Cecilia came to tell the tale. On the other hand, the cane or the strap would ensure her very public tears. At a previous occasion she had been sent for a switch. Not that, please not that, she prayed. Wearing a penitent dress outside the compound to cut switches while evening strollers took in her misery would set her dwindling street-cred back six months on top of Cecilia’s tale-telling.

Then as she watched, Uncle Sedge crossed the room and took down the strap from the wall where it was displayed as a sign of a godly household. That’s good, no that’s good, Chelsea told herself and tried, no prayed, to believe it.

“Kneel on the divan and reach on back with your arms so that the palms of your hands are flat on the floor.” Uncle Sedge passed sentence.

Cecilia gave a little gasp at the words and massaged her throat.

Chelsea looked at the chaise long and quailed. Only the cane was worse than this, she thought as Uncle Sedge moved nearer. But she didn’t dare pause, Uncle Sedge had spoken. So she walked forward and did as she had been bidden.

As her bare bottom mooned up, despite her thighs being firmly pressed together there was a hint of her womanhood on display.

“Oh I… is this really necessary?” The Reverend was suddenly flustered.

Uncle Sedge didn’t reply. This was halfway on account of him anyway. Now he would see how it was done.

The sound of the first great crack of leather on skin made everyone jump. Chelsea even wondered if Uncle Sedge had missed; but that was only for the merest of moments. Sometimes sound is faster than pain. She was still considering this when the searing pain robbed her of all thought. Worse still, once the fiery tang took hold, the thought-robbing pain was a mere foretaste of its gift. It seemed to Chelsea that the burn of that one blast of leather continued to grow for weeks.

For the others, the long, long wait for another stroke was considerably shorter in duration. But there was still time to see smooth white flood with deep pink as the strap welt developed on Chelsea’s behind.

The girl herself, rocked back and forth for a moment and then after a long held silence, she gasped and wiggled her hips.

“I want tears of contrition,” Uncle Sedge said sternly.

“Yes Sir,” Chelsea managed in a feeble wail.

The second stroke was a rerun of the first. Save for the fact that Chelsea’s bottom went white again for a moment where the strap had crossed its earlier passing.

Stephan swallowed and adjusted his coat on his lap; a gesture that was noticed by Aunt Sarah. The young man blushed, hating his weakness and desperately hoping that the woman wouldn’t notice his erection. But Aunt Sarah merely shrugged sympathetically and looked away. After all it wasn’t his fault.

“Gah,” Chelsea grunted as yet another stroke took all their attention.

She was panting hard now and finding it difficult to remain properly displayed.

Uncle Sedge lay on another half dozen, slowly applied over a minute or more until Chelsea’s steady rasping pants chuckled into open sobs. By now her bottom had surrendered any pretence at holding onto the whiteness and even the deep pink had given way to full red with a heavy compliment of welts.

Seeing that he was not done Aunt Sarah murmured, “Sedgely, maybe…”

Uncle Sedge glowed at her and she fell silent. Then carefully and with heroic vigour that even quailed the pastor, he lay on the three final strokes he had intended to give and one more on account of Sarah’s interjection. As he gave the last he looked at his wife, so that she knew she had misspoken and caused it.

You’re going to get a spanking tonight my girl, Sarah thought as he hands strayed to her behind. And you deserve it, she chided herself.

To be continued

10 Responses to “These Lands Beyond (part 1 of 8)”

  1. 1 paul1510

    an intriguing start, poor Chelsea, self righteous people are a pain, especially religious ones. 😉
    Looking forward to part two. 😀

  2. 2 jenny29

    Wow, another great series come in row. What a treat…..thank you so much for sharing your wonderful work…..

  3. 3 DJ

    Thanks Paul and Jenny,

    no actual religion has been singled out for harm in this story – indeed – no actual bottoms suffered.

    and Jenny – thanks – I am trying to break-up the novella’s into more readable parts to take the pressure off myself and the reader. 😉

  4. 4 Loki_Darksong

    I see. Its a self styled Utopia patterned after ‘the good old days’ where men and religion ruled. It would be funny if there is a taste of ‘The Village’ with this story. I wonder who will find out the truth first? Chelsea or Candida?

  5. 5 bahamagirl1996

    Wow , that was an awesome opener. Can’t wait for part 2

  6. 6 Kia

    I love the “Part X of Y” thing- little bits of story to savor while anticipating the next installment 🙂

  7. I love this setup. You did a good job of describing the world in an engaging way without spending too much time explaining through exposition. Looking forward to further chapters.

  8. 8 DJ

    Well thanks again everyone – another winner maybe 🙂

    The parts are to encourage everyone that its not another serial delivered on the never never and that it is wholly a current project.

  9. First let me contratulate you for the blog, i have been hooked reading posts since Saturday and i think it is great!! After reading the first chapter of the story i began to search for something the resembles the penitent dress and found this:

    Hope you enjoy it!


    • 10 DJ

      yes that’s the kind of thing – glad you liked the story.

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