Committee of One

19Jun13

spanking OTKI always had this thing about rules. I guess it stems from the fact that at home I never had any. My brother and I did pretty much what we liked, when we liked. It made for a complicated adolescence, but being such a free spirit contributed to my creativity and led me to my passion for photography.

Even so, I think from those earliest times I had a craving for some structure, but by the time I got to college had assumed that such things had passed me by. However, events were to prove me wrong and my journey began quite by chance.

In my last year in college I shared a room with Fran, a lively cute blonde from Colorado who complimented my chaotic nature. Where I was messy, she was tidy and where I was tardy, she was always on time.

In some ways Fran and I were alike. She had lost her parents in her early teens and had been brought up by relatives on some kind of commune and although I had parents, mine like hers were largely absent when it came to guidance.

One day I came back to our room and heard raised voices. It didn’t take long for me to realise that Fran was having an argument with a strange friend of hers, Ellen, a somewhat older woman I had met only once before. But who I knew had a great deal of influence over Fran.

For a moment I pondered leaving them to it, but I had a heavy bag of books with me and I wanted to grab some money for my purse form my stash. So with an ostentatious cough I pushed open the door and went in.

To my utter shock Ellen was sitting on my bed with Fran draped across her lap. The latter’s baby-blue cotton pants and smiley panties had been pulled right down to her ankles in preparation for a spanking.

“I eh…” was the fullest extent of my vocabulary at that moment and I remember that I pointed lamely to my bedside cabinet.

“Come in Addison,” Ellen said breezily, “We won’t be too long, we just have something to settle.”

I hated being called Addison, it made me sound like I was an old president from back in the day. Most people called me Addie. But just then I was too dumbfounded to reply.

“Addie, please go away,” Fran wailed, “Ellen please don’t, not with her here.”

“You know the rules,” Ellen said impatiently, “Spankings are given with no consideration to company. And in any case Addison lives here, so she’s family.”

Embarrassed for Fran who might be seen from the hall, I stepped back and closed the door, although I remained in the room. Then as I watched, Ellen retrieved a hairbrush from her purse and lined it up on Fran’s protruding rear end. I was just wondering how often this sort of thing happened between then when Ellen let go with a volley of hard determined spanks and a red-faced Fran responded by clenching her jaw. So I gathered that they were both familiar with these roles.

In a few short minutes Ellen delivered a fast series of cracks to every part of Fran’s bare bottom until it was tomato red and she was panting like a marathon runner. I didn’t count them, but there could easily have been a hundred spanks and the older woman showed no signs of stopping any time soon. Fran must have concluded the same thing, for at that moment her face cracked into a grimace and she began to call out.

In a few more short minutes the petite blonde went from angry groans to open howls as she gurgled to open sobbing. By then of course her bottom was quite something to see, with dark cherry blemishes over an angry red rash and not a little swelling. I had heard the expression a blistered behind, but this was taking it literally.

“I really think she’s…” I swallowed, suddenly ashamed that I had let my fascination overcome Fran’s hind-end interests.

Ellen shot me a hard glance and I got the vague impression that I could so easily be next. Maybe to make a point or maybe just because I had spoken, the spanking lasted another minute or so before the sobbing Fran was pulled into Ellen’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” the well-spanked girl cried, “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s it, let it all out,” Ellen soothed.

“What did she do?” I asked.

“Someone spent their hall fees on shopping,” Ellen tut-tutted.

“I was going to cover them with my savings and put them back later,” Fran hiccoughed.

She cast me a sideways glance. Her face was close to the colour of her bottom and the look reminded me of a girl I saw once after a public wedgie in senior high.

“You know that was never going to happen, don’t you?” Ellen scolded. “Admit it now or someone is going back over my knee.”

“I suppose,” Fran sobbed, tucking her face into Ellen’s chest.

“Now young lady, you can go and stand in the corner,” Ellen said.

“But…” Fran gaped.

Ellen just pointed firmly at the only corner in the room without furniture.

To my surprise and without pulling up her panties, a thoroughly meek Fran got to her feet and shuffled over to the corner. Then without being told she put her hands on her head and leaned forward at the waist so that her bottom stuck out behind affording Ellen and me a good view of her spanked behind.

“Addison,” Ellen said with a broad smile as she stood up and extended a hand, “How are you?”

“I… I’m fine,” I managed, taking it with a shake.

Ellen was about 10 years older than us with a big mane of fiery red hair. Her blue eyes were flecked with brown making them appear greenish and coupled with her generous curves I was somehow put in mind of an amazon queen.

“Hasn’t Fran told you about how we deal with things at home?” Ellen said in an amused but slightly chiding voice.

I noticed she had sat back down on my bed as if she were holding court. This and the confident smile that blessed her heart-shaped face put reminded me of the amazon queen again.

“No,” I drawled slowly, “She hasn’t.”

“Well then, let me fill you in,” Ellen chuckled.

Fran shifted uneasily and gave a groan at this.

Then for the best part of an hour while Fran stood bare-bottomed in the corner, Ellen laid out the commune’s unusual disciplinary arrangements.

*

For days after what I had seen, Fran hardly acknowledged my existence. She couldn’t look me in the eye and all our conversations were generally of one syllable. However, for my part, I could not get the whole affair out of my mind. Everything about it thrilled my imagination. I noticed that Fran winced every time she sat on her bed and tended to favour her hip. She avoided the chair at her desk altogether. I wanted to ask so many questions, but that would have been far from politic.

Then about a week afterwards Fran walked up beside side me on campus and asked if I wanted to get coffee.

“Sorry I have been a bit off with you,” she said in a low voice.

I notice her eyes darting around to make sure no one could overhear.

“Don’t tell Ellen will you, she doesn’t tolerate what she calls attitude,” Fran continued.

I shook my head, reluctant to say anything that would make her clam up.

Fran blushed and licked her lips nervously and I knew she had something to ask.

“No one… I mean there wasn’t anyone in the corridor when you came in? That day I mean,” she asked, “No one saw or heard anything did they?”

I saw plenty, I thought, but all I said was, “I am pretty sure no one saw anything.”

I was equally sure someone must have heard something, but thought it better not to say so. Fran was openly relieved.

“You must think we are nuts,” she gushed.

“You mean what Ellen said?” I smiled.

“Well that too, but I mean… anyway…” she blushed, “I guess I had it coming, but I am not so… I don’t know, relaxed about it as Ellen is.”

“Is this what you had growing up?” I asked.

“Oh no, hey no that was the weird thing,” Fran took my arm and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “I was never supposed to go there as a kid, but it was that or an orphanage. My aunts had the devil’s own time keeping their lifestyle from me. Of course I guessed some stuff.”

“So this commune thing, is it for lesbians…?” I let the question hang.

I knew her mother’s sister and her partner were gay and from Ellen now I knew that their wider group on the ranch in Colorado had some sort spanking deal that was at least half kink, but in Fran’s case at least seemed genuinely a disciplinary thing.

“Oh hell no,” Fran seemed amused; “Mostly not in fact, Ellen’s partner is a guy. Matt, you would like him.”

“Does he spank you too, or does your aunt?” I ventured.

Fran blushed and became a little shifty. “No, not Aunt Belle, she won’t… but Aunt Dale has once or twice. It was her I confronted about the whole thing when I turned 18. I was actually a bit het up on entitlement at the time. She… well she put me straight.”

I could guess how she did that and couldn’t help smiling. I also noticed that she hadn’t answered about Matt.

“It was really awkward at first. I mean I had no place to go but I wasn’t quite one of them. Dale considered having me lodge with her folks but I…” she looked at the floor and shot me a hard quizzical stare.

“You wanted in?” I suggested.

Fran blushed for America and then slowly nodded.

“Ellen came to the rescue and offered to mentor me,” Fran continued, “She took it real slow at first; Aunt Belle was pissed for a long time actually.”

The last point seemed a sore one in more way than one, so I let it slide.

“Commune rules say new members have to over 21,” Fran added as if that explained it all.

“Makes sense,” I said.

“Anyway, Ellen has asked if you want to come to Colorado for the summer,” Fran said casually.

Fran was a bit of a butterfly when she spoke and sometimes random bits of conversation didn’t fit and led to misunderstandings. Was this one of those times? I blushed to my ears and had the most peculiar feeling come over me.

“I… I’m not 21 yet,” I blurted.

A hard little line formed on Fran’s pale brow, she was shaking her head as if groping for something. Then she giggled as a penny dropped.

“No silly, we can have visitors. It’s just normally I can’t… well you know, it’s embarrassing, but since you kinda know…” she shrugged, “Anyway, it was Ellen’s idea. It’s a great place to take photographs.”

“Photographs yes,” I said distantly, but I was still blushing and for some reason for once photography was the last thing on my mind.

*

The summer seemed a long way off but I knew at once that I was going to go. I think my interest was piqued in the other matter then too, but that was a little harder to assimilate and I spent many idle moments on web boards and scouring the library for literary references.

There were other visits from Ellen of course, but not many and I was too shy to meet her for more than a few minutes. Also try as I might, I was never able to catch her and Fran having a ‘talk’ again. Although once or twice after I noticed Fran had a reluctance to sit down after one of her mentor’s visits.

Finally the semester ended and after a slow two weeks with my folks I set off for the West.

Ellen and Fran had picked me up from Denver and from there it was some hours’ drive north-west on progressively narrower roads. Colorado and its mountains were much as I expected, only more so. The commune on the other hand was a surprise.

I had expected some kind of compound or at least a village, but instead there were separate houses set back from a single track in a tight wooded valley that wound its way up the mountain. Further up near Ellen’s house was a meeting house with storerooms, but that was the only communal activity of any kind that I could see.

“The women, like Fran’s Aunt Belle, tend to form committees to handle social things. There are even some conventional families living further out and in the next valley. But most of the hard core to the group are here in 17 houses. The men sort out lumber and maintain the fences and the road between them,” Ellen explained as she guided the SUV up the twisty track.

“Do they have a committee too?” I asked.

“Ha,” Ellen laughed, “Not so that you’d notice. Matt more or less handles the ordering of things. You might call him a committee of one. Leastways, he is in our house.”

“So it’s just the three of you?” I put in.

“Now that’s a question,” Ellen replied and shot me a smile over her shoulder before putting her attention back on the road. “Actually there are four of us usually, as well as Fran who spreads her time between us and Belle’s place; we have Alexia on more or less a permanent basis. But others come from time to time. My sister Darlene for one, although she is not really my sister, but there is a lot of that around here. Family is what we agree it is, if you follow?”

I didn’t entirely but just then we pulled to a stop outside a stout pine and rock wall house that was styled like an over-large mountain cabin.

“Welcome to Tear Valley,” Ellen grinned as we got out.

*

That summer we hit the ground running as far as my personal journey was concerned. The moment we walked in the door I was confronted by the sight of a short dark filled-out sort of girl standing in the corner with her denims and panties at her ankles.

It was clear she had been soundly spanked but given her face was a lot redder than her bottom just then, I figured me being a witness to her punishment was a bigger concern.

“Don’t mind her,” a big plaid-shirted man said on seeing my gaze. “I am not through with Alexia here yet.”

He had an easy grin which defined a square jaw set under wiry salt and pepper hair.

“I’m Matt and you must be Addison,” he said.

I didn’t know where to look and my eyes flicked from the big guy to the small bare-bottomed girl in the corner.

“Call me Addie,” I said.

“What’s our Alexia done now?” Ellen said in an exasperated voice.

“You know those cookies she had to bake for Martha and the committee?” Matt said in a stern voice.

I noticed Alexia shift her weight.

“But I told her if she got up this morning…” Ellen began.

Matt was slowly nodding.

“Oh she didn’t,” Ellen groaned, and then to Alexia she snapped, “But that was the third time.”

“I over slept ma’am,” Alexia said repentantly.

Ellen stared in her direction with a look of disbelief.

“Young lady you are grounded,” Ellen said severely.

“Yes Ma’am,” Alexia said miserably.

“You want me to handle it?” Ellen asked Matt.

I stood wide-eyed and made like a fly on the wall, but Fran was smirking and just lapping it up.

“No I think I have it covered,” Matt drawled.

“What you got in mind?” Ellen asked, “The switch?”

There was an eagerness about Ellen that I hadn’t seen before, in her own way, she loved this too.

Matt eyed her for a moment but didn’t answer. Then he walked away.

I was shown to my room while the mortified Alexia stood vigil and even though it was a good hour or so while I was shown around and had unpacked, the girl was still there when we came back down. Even then it was quite a while before Matt came back into the room.

“Okay little lady, let’s take this into the den,” he rumbled.

Alexia stooped to gather her clothing and pulled it up as far as her knees so that she could shamble off with Matt. I saw that he now held a broad and thick leather belt and I swallowed in sympathy. Hen as Alexia passed me I saw she was sucking her lips into her mouth, but refused to meet my gaze.

I shot a glance at Fran who just shrugged as she tried hard not to smile. I sensed that she was embarrassed and didn’t push it by asking, even when the slow steady thwack of the rise and fall of a belt could be heard form deeper inside the house.

I didn’t know where to put myself and stood uncomfortable in the middle of the open plan room as the punishment continued. After a few moments the sound of leather on bare skin was added to by some pretty throaty yells, followed soon afterwards by the obvious sound of crying.

“Come on, you can meet Alexia later… well tomorrow anyway,” Fran whispered.

Before we could move off the sound stopped and Matt marched Alexia back into the main room to stand in the corner again.

Then turning to me Matt said, “Fran tells me you are a photographer,” as if nothing had happened.

I looked over at the thoroughly miserable Alexia and wished for a moment I had my camera to hand.

“Yes Sir,” I squeaked.

Let me tell you, I had never called anyone sir in a domestic context before in my life.

*

The next day Alexia was even more stand-offish than Fran had been following her spanking. So apart from a very polite hello and a grunt in answer to some leading questions, we didn’t really talk. So instead of hanging around I decided to go with Fran to meet her aunt.

The mountains were obscured with clouds and a light drizzle meant it was not a good day for pictures.

“What do you do around here?” I asked Fran.

“There’s chores, for me anyway; there’s hiking, we could borrow some horses maybe and down at the lake we can fish or sail,” Fran said. “Then if I can get Ellen’s car we could go into town, but I warn you it is not much of a town.”

It was a useful answer but it didn’t really tell me much about the commune and how it all worked. I might have asked more but we arrived at a small brown wooden house about a mile from Ellen and Matt’s place.

I knew that Fran had a room here as well as one at the other house, so I wasn’t surprised that she walked up to the door and went right in and I followed her.

The small house was nothing like the well-appointed house I was staying at. And although it was tidy it had so many knick-knacks that it looked almost like a shop. It was a country style that didn’t exactly suit my tastes.

Fran looked about to call out when we heard something. It was pretty obviously the sound of a vigorous spanking and we froze in our tracks. Standing behind her and somewhat to her right, I was able to glance around the door post into a room beyond. But it was only a momentary look, for almost at once I was ushered quietly back the way we had come.

“Oh gross,” Fran giggled. “Aunt Belle is pissed at Aunt Dale again.”

I hadn’t thought so. For a start, both women were much younger than I had expected and although it was hard to say much about them on so small an acquaintance, I could tell that the woman draped over the others lap with her denims and panties around her ankles was far smaller than the woman spanking.

Later on I was to learn that Dale was a small dark smiley woman who was not much older than Ellen and she was the sub in their particular partnership. While Fran’s blood relation Belle was a slightly older woman in her late 30s with iron grey hair and a curvy rural figure.

“We had better not go back until tomorrow,” Fran said in a brittle voice, “It is so embarrassing when Aunt Dale is in the corner and I bet she’ll be there for a while afterwards.”

I said something non-committal and when Fran said she would swing by another friend I told her I would meet her back at the house.

Once she had gone I went a short way in the other direction and took a short series of test pictures of the mountain and then on a hunch I came back by another way that ‘accidentally’ took me to the back of Fran’s aunts’ house.

As luck would have it the track went close to the house and it was the obvious way to go, but I couldn’t resist standing on tip toes and peeking in. I was just in time to see a dishevelled Dale being led to the corner with her jeans and panties still at her ankles. It took a moment to hold the camera over my head and snap a quick auto-roll of pictures. Then sure that no one had seen me I headed back to the house.

*

I don’t know what I was going to do with the pictures; I had taken them more on impulse than anything. After one quick glance at the badly framed, if embarrassing contents of the camera’s memory, I decided to delete them.

“Addie,” Fran called from the hall outside my room.

I hastily turned off the camera and went to see what she wanted. If she noticed my shifty blushing, she did not show it.

“We can go horseback riding,” she said excitedly. “Alexia,” she called again.

Alexia appeared somewhat sheepish as she came to her bedroom door.

“Horses,” Fran said again eagerly.

I thought Alexia would spit or throw something but after darting a look at me she said in a sullen voice, “I’m grounded, besides, I don’t think…”

Her hand stole to her behind.

“Sorry, I forgot,” Fran pulled a face.

I smiled at the idea of a 20-something women being grounded, but one look at Alexia’s face and I immediately regretted it.

Despite my faux pas the rest of that day was magical and even the weather improved so that I got a zillion pictures of Fran and myself on horseback and even more of the snow-capped mountains. So successful was our outing that Ellen and Matt agreed to take us out again a few days later and off on to some of the more out of the way tracks.

As before we collected our mounts from a ranch house further down the valley and it was explained that it was part of the commune deal. There I was given a brown mare called Billie. She was passive enough and quite biddable so to begin with the day went much the same as before.

“Don’t get too far ahead,” Matt cautioned.

“Okay Matt,” Fran replied, but already she was out in front.

We were both young and excited and about an hour out we broke out of the treeline and got a spectacular view of the valley. Matt and Ellen were some way behind and Fran said the fateful words, “I’ll race you.”

I am no real horsewoman and far from giving her a race I struggled to keep up. I only managed that because the horses struggled on the incline somewhat, but even so Fran raced on. Then I saw she had missed a path off to the right which looked as if it would cut ahead of her. I took it.

Billie was in trouble almost at once. She had already been struggling, but now with a sharp steep upward slope to contend with, she began to lurch like a dog wading through snow. I knew at once it was a mistake but the trouble was I could not turn on account of the narrowness of the track.

Billie finally took matters into her own fate and broke through the undergrowth to our left and back onto the lower track. It was an action that was just about possible for the horse but left me contending with low level branches that tore me from the saddle.

I landed on a soft heap of pine needles.

“That was one of the most stupid things I have ever seen,” Matt growled form somewhere behind me.

As he spoke a sour-faced Ellen rushed past us at a gallop, presumably in pursuit of Fran.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I just didn’t think.”

“Do you know what I would do if Fran pulled a stunt like that?” Matt continued.

“No,” I lied, swallowing hard.

I looked at Billie who was a short distance away nibbling on some grass.

“She’s fine, no thanks to you,” Matt said angrily. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and got to my feet.

“Can you think of one good reason that I shouldn’t put you across my knee here and now?” Matt said in a stern tone.

I blushed and chewed my lip as I stood with my knees and elbows at odd angles, not knowing where to put myself.

“You have exactly 30 seconds to speak or I will take silence as consent,” he said, advancing upon me.

My throat was dry and my heart pounded. I wanted to say no or that I refused or better yet, that I didn’t deserve it, but none of these phrases could I honourably summon to my lips.

So with the Rocky Mountains as a backdrop I found myself draped helplessly across Matt’s strong thighs as he sat on a boulder.

“Generally in our house these come down,” he said tugging at the waist band of my denims.

“Oh,” I squeaked.

He set me on my feet next to him and glared at me.

“You mean…?” I said in a hushed voice.

He didn’t answer, but continued to glare.

I knew I could refuse and equally I knew what he wanted. Had Ellen known I would capitulate? Had she told Matt? My mind turned over every possibility as I stood blushing. Then as if by their own volition my Levi’s and panties were at my knees and I was again tumbled across Matt’s lap.

The spanks echoed across the valley like a Winchester from an old movie. Even as the impossible sting seared me I wondered if anyone below could hear. Then the sting built to a blaze and I was overwhelmed. One minute I was thinking it hurt and then cascading from my mouth came a wail that ended in me yowling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I bawled over and over as Matt’s hand blasted down on my bare bottom.

The spanking lasted about a week and I was a sobbing mess long before he was done with me. In fact by the time he set me on my feet I didn’t care about anything but being good.

“I have a good mind to make you walk back with your breeches down, but we have some ground to cover,” Matt said in a scolding tone.

“Yes Sir,” I sniffed as I pulled my jeans up over a sandpaper sore bottom that made me wince.

Sitting on the saddle was trial as we set a rapid pace to catch up with Ellen and Fran.

When we found them about a thousand feet down Fran was bent over a fallen log with her denims and panties at her ankles while Ellen belaboured her big bare bottom with a switch.

There were already worm-like ridges and scores of purple reals criss-crossing her hind end as she wailed and stamped angrily in response to the onslaught, but it looked as if they had been at it a while and would be a while longer.

“You deserve the same,” Matt promised, “And if you are ever so reckless again you will get it, do you hear me?”

“Yes Sir,” I gulped.

Ellen was less merciful than Matt. Even when she had finally finished and left Fran a sobbing mess, there was no way Fran could sit a horse. So Ellen made her step out of her Wrangler’s and tie them in a knot to the pommel with her panties hanging on top.

Then a very tearful Fran had to lead her horse back down to the horse ranch.

“Won’t someone see?” I asked Matt.

He shrugged and I had never seen Fran look so miserable.

It took a while to get down, but the horses need a rest and it was mucho embarrassing for Fran when we got to there. The woman who came out was grinning, but didn’t say much. The way she looked at me I knew that she had guessed that I too had been spanked.

Not that things got any better after that. Fran was made to walk home still sans culottes and when we got there she headed straight for the corner and put her hands on her head.

Then all eyes turned to me.

I swallowed and I felt my face melt.

“Do I have to…?” I said in a strained voice as I flicked my belt with my thumb.

No one answered, but Matt continued with the hard stare.

With a heavy sigh and for the second time that day my Levis’s and panties came down and this time I went to the corner across the room from Fran for most of the remainder of the day.

The spanking, corner time, the whole thing whirled around in my head and sent me wild. I could not take it in. At one point I sneaked a peek over my shoulder and caught Ellen’s disapproving eye. Yet we exchanged something, a recognition perhaps of something we had both known that day weeks before in my room at college after she had spanked Fran. It was always going to come to this.

*

I finally met the aunts a couple of days later. Even then I could still feel it where I sat and Fran could not sit down at all. A fact that Aunt Dale could not help teasing her about. A situation not helped because Fran had to take her coffee standing at the mantle by the fire.

Aunt Belle on the other hand was so down to Earth that she could have been right at home in my family. She was outwardly a cookie baking civilian and to look at her you would never have taken her for someone in a same sex marriage let alone as someone living on a DD commune.

I got the impression that she didn’t like sharing that aspect of her life with Fran, who in her eyes was still a little girl.

“What did you catch it for anyway?” Aunt Dale asked.

I blushed and told the world that I had been in on it too.

“We were kind of a bit enthusiastic with the horses,” Fran sad sheepishly.

“I hope you git good then,” Dale said with a chuckle.

“You ain’t kidding,” Fran said as she rubbed her bottom as she took another sip of coffee.

“I get my tail paddled often enough so I can’t exactly talk,” Dale agreed ruefully, casting a glance over at Belle.

“They don’t need to know about that,” Belle said grumpily, and then poured me another cup of coffee.

It was then that I remembered the photographs I had taken. I hadn’t deleted them I realised. I felt sick. As soon as I got back I was going to download the horse riding and mountain pictures and delete the snooping ones I decided.

There are times in one’s life when you feel something coming from a long way off. Something will catch your eye for some reason and as you watch you know it will fall and break and then it does. You turn a card and know it will be an ace before you see it, or sometimes that it won’t be. I felt something like that all the way back to Matt and Ellen’s house. I tried to remember where I had left my camera and with every step I told myself that no one was going to look at  it.

The camera was on the kitchen table when we got back and by then I knew I had left it in the living room. That morning Ellen and I had even talked about the pictures I had taken on the mountains before… I blushed as I remembered and it all came flooding back. I still couldn’t get my head around it.

Ellen was in the kitchen and while Fran bounced in looking for a snack I just stood feeling sick with eyes on the camera.

“I had a look back through your photographs,” Ellen said carefully, “There are some good ones, you are a real artist.”

“There were a couple of test shots,” I said thickly, “I meant to delete them, I barely looked…”

“Are you on Facebook?” Ellen asked me suddenly in a seemingly unrelated way.

I nodded. Who wasn’t? I shifted uneasily where I stood.

“You post much? Your pictures I mean?” she continued.

“No,” I whispered with a shake, “I hardly bother with it these days.”

“So the candid pictures… you were honestly going to delete them?” Ellen pressed me.

I felt like I had on the mountain with Matt and I could not meet her eyes.

“What’s up?” Fran asked through a mouthful of something.

“I was just… it was just… I didn’t mean…” I stumbled over my words.

“You were curious?” Ellen sounded sharp.

I nodded.

“How curious? I mean I can arrange for a very full on experience,” Ellen did not sound generous.

Fran suddenly guessed something and swallowing down her snack snatched up the camera. Before Ellen or I could speak she was scrolling through the HD.

“These are good, wow, some of these… oh,” she said suddenly.

There was an accusation in her eyes too.

“I believe you meant no harm and I don’t want you to leave,” Ellen said, “But if you stay…”

I nodded. I still felt sick.

“Do you want me or Matt to handle it?” she said.

“You can’t make her,” Fran said angrily, “She didn’t mean anything…”

“It’s alright Fran,” I said quietly.

“Who is worse? You or Matt?” I was thinking of the switch and the state of Fran’s bottom afterwards. I knew she still could not sit down.

“Matt I would say, unless he went easy on you again,” Ellen admitted, “But I wouldn’t be, I can tell you that.”

“Maybe then if you both… that way…” I muttered.

“Are you sure?” Ellen asked; she sound calm now.

I nodded and whispered, “Please don’t make me say it.”

“I’ll cut some switches; Matt is waiting for you in the den. Oh and by the way, you are grounded,” Ellen said.

I looked around and gulped and then back at Ellen. I didn’t really know what to do.

“Take your things down and step out of them. Then go into the den,” Ellen ordered from the door to the outside.

I felt my face burn as I fumbled with my belt and then with Fran looking on I stepped out of my jeans and panties, at one point hopping awkwardly on one leg. Then naked below the waist and clutching at my front I walked meekly to where Matt was waiting.

The den was a large room at the back of the house. It had warm stone walls that matched the outside and along one wall was a big flat screen TV. In the centre of the room was a huge ornately carved wooden round table with the crossed hammers and mountain emblem of Colorado in bas relief. The only object on it was an old leather strap like one that in previous centuries might have been used with razors.

The other furniture was mostly of leather, but there were a couple of shaker style armless plain wooden chairs, one of which had been pulled away from the wall. It was between this and the table that Matt stood with his arms crossed in an echo of his heavy visage.

“This high up it gets too cold for an actual woodshed for much of the year, so this is where I deal with naughty girls,” he said.

“Yes Sir,” I said meekly. Believe me meek is the only way that a girl can feel when she is naked below the waist in front of a man and about to get a spanking. “I’m real sorry about… everything.”

“Yah, I guess so,” he drawled as he sat on the chair. “Over my knee first to get you warmed up and then you can over the arm of the Chesterfield here.”

He pointed at the heavy brown leather couch. I was still looking at it in wide-eyed horror as he drew me over his knee.

“A little tender still?” he rasped.

“Yes Sir,” I blushed.

“You think taking secret photographs of our neighbours is any way acceptable,” he scolded.

“No Sir,” I said quietly.

“No Sir,” he agreed as he spanked me hard.

Somehow I expected more preamble, but the sudden tang made my eyes start in my head. It was the first of many and all through spanking he spoke in a hard tremble-making voice.

“When I get through with you, you won’t sit down until Thanksgiving,” he barked, “Who do you think you are?”

In short order I spluttered to sobs like a kid, but it made not the least impact on his spanking of me. That went on for some considerable while until I looked fondly upon my tail warming on the mountain and didn’t know what way was up. I do know I was all begging and promise-making but I had no idea what I said.

Finally he had me stand and after a quick reassuring squeeze he put me to facing the stone wall until I had recovered myself a bit.

I must have stood there a good while and it took an age and a half until I could stop crying. But when I was done I did feel much better. Then I remembered the arm of the couch.

“Put yourself over,” he said at last.

I turned sheepishly and saw the leather in his hand. I wished then that I hadn’t been so nobly contrite when offered a choice of punishments. But I could not go back on it now, so I just nodded.

The leather was cold on my lower tummy and the arm of the couch was so high that my head was deep into the seat and my toes barely touched the ground. I shifted my weight, revelling in the cool of the leather on the side facing down and the tight hotness of my bottom on the other.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Is anyone? I thought, but I nodded and then realising he couldn’t see my head too well, I said, “Yes Sir.”

The strap blazed across my bottom and hurt like nothing ever had before. The noise was terrific and worse yet as I lay there dreading another, the first kept hurting. By the second I was certain that there was no teeth-gritting bravery in me and just as I had under the palm of his hand I began to yell. Again there was no coherence to what I shouted and the biting tang in my tail built up like a forest fire.

Time is a subjective thing during such a punishment and I could not have counted the strokes had he ordered me too and just then I would have done anything he asked. It was probably only a short bottom blasting by the standards of the house, but for me it was geological age clawing on leather and praying to be anywhere but there.

In any case my bottom was just one continuous pain and after a while the only way I could tell I was still being strapped was by the sound.

Finally it stopped and Matt left me there to have a good cry.

Tentatively I reached behind and felt the shocked flesh had become as two hard leather pads and as hot a bed warmer. It was fascinating really, and I could only speculate on what it looked like.

“You’re done. Get into the other room and go to the corner. You’re going to stay there for about a week or until I let you out,” he said firmly.

“Yes Sir,” I sniffed.

The corner was a relief after the den. That was until I remembered that I still had a session with Ellen. My courage failed then and I burst into tears and bawled like a kid. In panic I looked around and saw that there were three switches on the kitchen table. I guess Ellen was real pissed at me.

My bottom already felt hot and twice its size with a texture like boiled leather.

Matt came out then, having put away the strap I guess, and saw the switches there.

“I think she’s done,” he said.

“But…” Ellen began, “She agreed and she has it coming.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but I say she is done,” Matt growled.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ellen pick up the switches and I cringed. Then she pursed her lips before breaking them and tossing them in the trash. I remembered then what Ellen had said of Matt that first day and I guess the committee of one had spoken.

It was a couple of weeks after that that Ellen finally gave her first spanking, but usually I was dealt with by Matt. I say usually because by then I had become part of the family.

Ends



5 Responses to “Committee of One”

  1. 1 paul1510

    Damian,
    I really enjoyed this. 😀
    Paul.

  2. 2 cindy2

    I loved everything about this. It seems the initial spanking was in a dorm room but I can be mistaken. Wow, what gossip that would cause and at least one of the kids who heard or found out who had an interest in this subject might approach her later. I loved the punishments with witnesses and the strapping over the couch (which I am familiar with).

  3. liked the story esp the desciption of being switched as i have been a reiciever and giver for obvious reasons prefer to give it!!!!

  4. 4 DJ

    Thanks Paul

    Yep it was a dorm room

    I haven’t actually switched someone for a while – one of the consequences of city life. I do have a cane 😉


  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch

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