Return to Grampus Bay

27May14

spankedSandy ran her hand through her long blonde hair as she pursed her lips and frowned. There was a small chip on the base of the ceramic statuette, the third she had found that morning. For a moment she considered putting the object at the back of the shelf and hoping Lilian wouldn’t notice, but that would have been a kind of lie and Sandy was done with lies; well almost.

The day before Josie had dropped a whole box of new figurines in her haste to leave for the beach. Three of the ceramic figures had been smashed at once, ending Lillian’s senior apprentice’s chances of a half day off down in the bay. But a furious Lilian had wanted to know if the rest could be salvaged.

It wasn’t that Sandy thought that Josie didn’t deserve her punishment and any she had still to come, but given the strict additional sanctions that would result from each ruined statue, Sandy was seriously concerned for her friend’s bottom.

Josie had already been very soundly spanked with a heavy nylon ceramic spatula, a task that had taken Lilian almost 40 minutes to carry out while the hapless 28-year-old had bawled like a kid so until she had been heard from the café terrace. It was a certainty that she wouldn’t be sitting for a few days as it was, not judging from the neat shiny dark red stain that marred the curves of both her bottom cheeks afterwards. Two pert polished domes that had been publically displayed in the courtyard corner for the rest of the afternoon. However, Lilian had ruled that for each additional damaged object, Josie would be soundly spanked again and then made to spend every half-day off in the corner until the equivalent time in hours had been served to pay for it.

Sandy suspected that there would be additional punishments too if she knew Lilian, a thought that set her own buttocks to involuntarily clench. She sighed. Together with this new find and the three smashed the day before that made nine too badly damaged to be sold.

Her pondering was interrupted as outside car had pulled up and the slightly junior of Lilian’s two apprentices put down the last broken statue and dusted her hands on her dungarees. Peering through the window she saw a middle-aged couple had pulled and were now eyeing the menu like desert starved vultures.

The man wore a golf shirt and a tweedy flat cap, while his wife, a hawk-nosed woman with a rather sour expression squinted into the shop window.

I bet they don’t buy any pottery, Sandy thought, but cream teas were another matter entirely. If she were quick then she might spare Josie some blushes. But as she reached the workshop door Josie had already emerged from the shop and turned to face the new customers.

“I’ll get these,” Sandy said hastily, embarrassed for her friend.

The dark-haired Josie smiled nervously and made to back away before pausing to ask, “How many?”

“Nine,” Sandy replied as she made a sympathetic face.

Josie winced.

“Two cream teas please,” said the man in the cap, interrupting them.

“Certainly sir, just take a seat,” Sandy said, indicating a shady spot out of the line-of-sight with the shop door. The woman ignored her and plumped for a table in the sun and the man shrugged.

Neither saw Josie slip back into the shop or the fact that her bare bottom was exposed behind on account of only be allowed an apron over her T-shirt. If they had have noticed they would have seen a russet sheen on her slightly dusky swollen rounds as she hastily ducked inside to take refuge behind the shop counter.

Sandy grimaced. If Lilian found out they had swapped jobs, she might find herself in the same condition. Memo to self, she thought ruefully, whatever happens, don’t lie about it.

Lying was Sandy’s bête noir. A habit that Lilian had been determined to break; so far with mixed results. At least I don’t lie to myself anymore, she told herself, believing it.

Meanwhile inside the shop Josie had clapped both hands to her mouth. Nine, she thought with horror, she had broken nine. She couldn’t believe it. That was at least a thousand pounds worth of pottery. And that was if Lilian allowed her the trade price. That was more than 20 half-days off.

She didn’t dwell on the round of spanking and long, long corner time that would accompany each little ‘talk’ on the matter. Maybe if she worked her weekend rotation, she thought miserably, knowing full well that Lilian was unlikely to entertain the idea. But even so, two months of being grounded was no fun prospect, not with summer looming.

Just then Sandy came into the shop and grinned.

“Swapsies, they have gone. The miserable old cow didn’t like something or other,” she said rolling her eyes. “Come on,” Sandy clapped her hands, “Lilian will be back in a minute. I for one am hoping she doesn’t ask about our impromptu division of labour.”

Josie stepped around the check-out and grabbed a broom. She was a past master at looking busy while keeping her tail-end turned away from customers. Well usually anyway. But Sandy was right, if Lilian thought she was ducking out of a punishment then the next customer would see her bare bottom in the corner of the yard like yesterday and there was no escaping that embarrassment.

Josie made a brave face and pushed open the door.

“Nine? You sure it was nine?” she asked, “I mean, do you think Lilian will forget to ask now that she has calmed down?”

Sandy’s mouth formed a tight line and she didn’t reply.

“No, I guess not,” Josie sighed.

*

Sandy had just finished going through the breakages again. It was almost as if Lilian doubted her thoroughness.

“I checked, honestly, it was nine,” Sandy had told Lilian on her return.

“Oh it is not that I doubt your honesty,” Lilian replied without a trace of irony, “It is more a confidence in your soft heart.”

Sandy pulled a face. “But it was an accident,” she whined.

Lilian gave her a look.

“It was carelessness and you know it. She knows better than to rush and behave like a bull in a china shop,” the redhead said sharply.

Sandy had shrugged and nodded. As it turned out she was correct, there were nine damaged items as she had said. Oh well, she thought, at least it isn’t my behind to pay.

By then the last customer had gone as she stepped into the yard and she was immediately confronted with Josie’s bare bottom again. She wondered idly if the girl had been sent there before or after the café had closed, but it didn’t matter really. Most custom was transitory in the little Cornish village and both women had been through it all before, casual customers and temporary humiliation. Sandy shrugged.

“Sandy,” Lilian said breezily as she locked the shop.

Sandy smiled nervously, by now she could read the signs.

“I thought I might take a walk down to the bay before supper,” she ventured and Lilian seemed to consider this for a moment.

She loved the bay, even before she had seen the grampus rising in the sea. She was bound to the place with magic now, or so she imagined. But she sensed that her visit might be postponed for a bit.

“Did Josie work the café all day?” the redheaded potter asked casually.

Sandy froze. Tell the truth, she cautioned herself, don’t lie.

“Eh… yes,” she said, her courage deserting her.

Lilian looked pained and shot a glance at Josie.

“I mean…” Sandy began hastily.

“Better… if you were about to say what I think you were, but too it’s late isn’t it?” Lilian sighed. “Come with me.”

“I only…” Sandy wailed, “Please.”

But Lilian took her by the arm took her arm and led her back into the pottery shed.

“You have a good heart, only exceeded by your talent for self-deception,” she sighed, “And if you will so readily lie to yourself… well anyway, I promised to take you in hand on that score didn’t I?”

Sandy dangled like a rag doll at the end of Lilian’s arm offering up puppy eyes until the latter woman snorted in amusement. It was a chuckle that expanded as Lilian noticed the imprint of her own buttocks in a large sack of cellophane-clad clay where she had sat to take Josie over her knee the day before. Next to it lay the same paddle-shaped foot-long heavy nylon spatula used for rough-shaping the clay. The master potter could almost imagine it was still warm from its previous use. However, in the event it was cool to the touch as she lifted it off the work bench.

Sandy’s eyes widened as she too saw it and she visibly gulped. A moment later she was hauled over the older woman’s lap until her bottom was large and round in her lap, the denim dungarees drum tight across her behind.

“Lilian I…” Sandy muttered, but she could think of no justifiable protest.

Ignoring the girl anyway, Lilian unbuttoned the shoulder straps at the waist and tugged the lower part of the garment over Sandy’s curves to reveal the white cotton pants beneath. Before they too went south leaving the warm-hearted fibber bared.

“Lilian, please don’t do this,” Sandy wailed, an obligatory rebellion to save face perhaps.

But the improvised paddle landed with a stinging splat that drew a startled howl from the blonde and then as the spanking began in earnest Sandy bucked up and down as she made hissing sounds through her teeth.

“Lilian;” it was a single shriek of protest.

“Now, now, we are only just getting started,” Lilian chided, “And then when I’m done you know you’re going to stand in the corner just like a good girl, right next to Josie.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Sandy sniffed, still harbouring the hope that she wouldn’t cry.

The paddle rose and fell scorching her bottom like a kiln.

“You so need this,” the sculptress growled.

“Yes Ma’am.” Sandy’s voice cracked.

Her bottom was a burgundy blue-red now and already the white marks of distress had formed on the skin in protest its treatment just where she had formerly sat.

“Such a lot of fuss for a little girl,” Lilian chuckled, “And we have such a long, long way to go.”

Finally Sandy broke, sobbing incoherently just as Josie had the day before. The fulsome howling poured out of her like clay-slip in the run-off drain, great barking wails that left her clean and drained. Not that Lilian let-up on the blasting spanks to her apprentice’s bottom.

“I will not have you lying, not now, not ever,” Lilian scolded, “That’s your old life.”

Sandy yelled between hiccoughing sobs, her legs kicking impotently like a girl drowning.

“I hope you can’t sit down for a month,” Lilian cried passionately as she continued to wallop a bottom so swollen and tender that it had begun to resemble too purple grapes on a cheeseboard.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Sandy bawled.

“I know, I know,” Lilian soothed, her soft words a deception next to a spanking that was so very far from ending.

*

The two women stood stock-still side-by-side at the plaster wall next to the mantle. Both were still bared with their dark-red bottoms jutting out like bookends as they cooled. It had taken a while, but Sandy was at last quieted as she supressed veiled nightmares of cushion-less chairs and hard work benches.

“I hope you can’t sit down for a month,” Lilian had said. No idle threat then, Sandy thought miserably; a phrase that formed part of the ongoing scolding as they stood there.

“I trust I have made my point?” Lilian sighed, intruding on the women’s woes.

“Yes Ma’am,” the two women facing the wall chimed in unison.

Josie felt sorry for her friend. After all, she had only tried to be kind. But at least she didn’t face another month in jug and at least two more prolonged spankings. It was a hell of a way to start the summer, she thought ruefully.

“You’ll both stand there for the rest of the evening and think yourselves lucky to be inside and not in the yard,” Lilian concluded.

“Yes Ma’am,” they meekly agreed.

*

The day was warm and Sandy had finally been allowed to walk down to the bay. It had taken her almost twice as long as normal; a consequence of an unrelenting throb in her bottom that flared at every step. Josie, she knew, would have suffered even worse should she have been allowed the attempt. Poor girl; it would be a month before she would be out of Lilian’s bad books again. By which time they might both be able to sit down, Sandy thought ruefully.

An exaggeration maybe, she chided herself, conscious that her thoughts were too close to lies for comfort. But it hadn’t stopped her dropping her overalls and sitting with her bared bottom in the soft wet clay that morning.

It wasn’t the first time she had used the trick. It was Lilian herself who had put her on to it. She had told Sandy that it had been a rare relief during her days studying under Helen De Court. Nevertheless it had been embarrassing the first time Lilian had caught her at it and it had amused the redhead to have her apprentice work for the rest of the morning with two ovals of drying clay as the only cloak for her still tender bottom.

But it had been worth it to hear stories of Lilian’s own spanking exploits at the hands of the legendary Helen.

“She used me far worse than ever I have you,” Lilian had told her.

“You don’t treat me badly,” Sandy had shyly admitted, “I deserve all I get I think.”

Lilian had laughed.

Sandy knew it was worth it. After all she was home and she had the bay. Then all such introspection was pushed aside by the smell and sound of the sea before she even cleared the trees above the cliffs.

She didn’t really expect to see another grampus, but then she didn’t need to. It was there under the waves and in her heart. It would always be there.



3 Responses to “Return to Grampus Bay”

  1. 1 paul1510

    Damian,
    I remember this series, very good, thank you. 🙂
    Paul.

  2. 2 George

    So sweet, on both sides 🙂


  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch

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