Abraham Heights: Tender Memories


enema shockFreya Guinness looked at the clock with misery hanging on her face. She already wished her shift was over and the shift had barely begun. It looked like her day at the Horn Street Coffee Shop was getting up to be one of those where she wasn’t be rushed off her feet, but she wasn’t quite going to be left alone.

So far she had just two customers, one of her regulars, Donna Warren, the college professor and a rather sorry looking sorority girl standing at the window counter who had so obviously been recently very soundly spanked.

She couldn’t even relieve the boredom by gloating over the girl’s punitive fate, not under the circumstances. Reaching for a cup on the lower shelf she winced as her bottom flared. At least she didn’t have to sit down any time soon, now that would be embarrassing.

The night before Freya had borrowed her mom’s car on the understanding that she would fill-up with gas and have it back home by 10 o’clock. Well 10 had come and gone before she even noticed the time and she had barely gotten to within 50 minutes of home, in the wrong direction yet after meeting some guy, when she realised it was nearly midnight.

To make matters infinitely worse before she had a chance to call, the darn car had stuttered to a stop after finally refusing to run on fumes.

When her Dad had rolled up just after one o’clock, the fact that he was pissed at her was written like bloody doom on his face.

“Hey Dad,” Freya had offered nervously as she gave him a forlorn wave.

“You know it will be two and gone by the time we get to bed,” he sighed as he reached for the gas can in the trunk. “I have work tomorrow, what are you doing out here?”

Freya’s younger sister Dakota would have told an elaborate lie at this point and wouldn’t have quit until she had thoroughly dug a grave for her tender behind. At 18, Freya would have done much the same, but these days she knew better than to keep digging and a girl’s posterioral health was better served by the truth.

“Some guy,” Freya said sourly, “You know how it is? I kind of forgot the time.”

“It is not all you forgot is it?” John Guinness said, making a finger push as he nodded to her dash.

“Oh yah,” Freya replied reaching down and hitting the gas release button. “I’m sorry, I forgot the gas too.”

John glared at her and then pointed looked at his watch. “I guess that isn’t going to be an issue for the next couple of weeks,” he said.

“I’m grounded aren’t I?” Freya said through wince-dancing lips.

John nodded and shrugged. “Two weeks,” he sighed, and then he reached down and began unscrewing the gas cap.

“You gonna spank me?” she asked uncomfortably as she took up a nervous stance and unconsciously handled the seat of her pants.

“Oh yeah,” her father said as if she had asked something dumb.

“I guess I got it coming,” Freya agreed ruefully as hot blood drowned her pale face.

The spanking had been deferred to the morning and Freya had had to get up before six to stand in just her T-shirt facing the wall in the kitchen so as to be waiting for John to get up.

It was an old sanction and designed to put her on tenterhooks for half an hour as she waited. Oftentimes her father would then defer the spanking until the evening and prolong the agony, which would have been a fair choice seeing as she had caused him to get to bed so late.

“What time do you have to be at work today?” her father asked as he strolled into the kitchen to snort at her exposed and waiting bottom.

Freya coloured, it was only her Dad, but she couldn’t help it. “Not until 10.30,” she admitted.

John Guinness nodded and pulled a chair out from the table with a scrape. There was a clatter too of the short hardwood paddle landing on the countertop.

Freya gulped.

“I got 10 or 15 minutes to spare so we might as well get this over with,” her father said in his weary voice. “Then you can go back to where you are until everyone leaves the house, or 10 o’clock, whichever comes around sooner.”

“But it’s…” Freya baulked and shot her gaze at the clock. It was a little after 7.30 and she had already suffered nearly an hour of bare-bottomed corner time.

“It is what? You were quick enough to waste my time last night and your mom is still pissed at you for leaving her without a car. No I think and intimate consideration of the passing of minutes will be fitting don’t you?” John scolded her.

“Yes Dad,” Freya nodded and sucked in some bitter air. She couldn’t really deny that it was fair.

Freya was shaken from her tender memory by a customer.

“You got any pie?” the old woman croaked as if a negative answer might be the gravest of insults.

“Yes Ma’am,” Freya replied pleasantly before rattling off a list of options.


Charlie Lain had opted for standing at the window counter of the Horn Street Coffee Shop. Despite the embarrassment, sitting down on one of the high stools was completely out of the question, but at least the shop was almost deserted.

Until the old woman had come in, the only other person apart from the girl serving was a dark-haired woman Charlie had seen around campus, although the woman seemed too self-absorbed to take any notice of the sorority girl’s discomfort. Nevertheless, the waitress had given Charlie a smile that hung somewhere between sympathy and a knowing smirk.

The previous evening had been housekeeping when all the pledges had to account for any reported or presumed infractions of the sorority’s many, many rules.

Davina Davies was an expert in sniffing out the latter and a small failure to fess up to some minor out of bounds infractions had led to some major paddle action all over Charlie’s bare behind.

“I want you kneeling on that bed,” Davina had drawled, “And get that butt right up… no I said right up… what the f… get those PJs down first, what do you think this is, a slumber party?”

“But the door is open,” Charlie had wailed.

“Well it is all girls together; don’t you want to help educate your fellow students?” Davina had teased.

“But…” Charlie squeaked.

“Get it up and paddle ripe and I want to see those elbows square to the mattress and resting on your knees,” Davina snarled.

The posture had been humiliating and not to say uncomfortable, but Charlie couldn’t deny that her bottom was more than adequately presented for the paddle. She would remember that one day, when her own turn came.

“Sorority tradition calls for three swats for each infraction, but I am going to assume you ducked out on at least as much as you got caught for, so how many is that?” Davina asked innocently.

Charlie smelt a trap, but all she could do was spring it. A clever self-effacing answer would get her extra for a smart mouth, minimising her fault would get her extra too. She was up for… four infractions so if Davina was assuming double, which was a total crock… then she faced two dozen. Charlie winced.

“Twenty four, Ma’am,” Charlie offered hesitantly.

Davina licked her lips like a cat with a veritable bucket of cream.

“I’ll take that as a confession, but you are forgetting the extra swats for not fessing up,” she drawled.

“But…” Charlie gasped.

“And three swats for not owning up to it now,” Davina added.

“But you said… I didn’t, really I didn’t,” Charlie wailed.

“So were you lying when you confessed or are you lying now?” Davina asked casually.

Lying was a big no-no and Charlie suddenly felt trapped.

“Dumb insolence is it,” Davina said sharply. “You can take 30 now and we will add the rest on next week, aren’t I kind? How many hold overs is that?”

“Six,” Charlie said meekly.

“No, it is double for lying so it would have been nine, but now that is 12 with an extra three for the favour of delaying your correction,” Davina said gleefully.

“But… oooh,” Charlie groaned.

“What do you say?” Davina asked coaxingly.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Charlie said with a pout.

“And yes you can, right after you count them off,” Davina said as she patted the bottom hard enough with the paddle to make it sting. “Ready?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Charlie sighed.

The paddle thwack was a terror and Charlie yelped. She didn’t need to turn her head to know a wide-eyed freshman gaping at her from the open door.

“One thank you Ma’am,” Charlie said miserably.

By the fifth acknowledgement there was a small gathering of grinning and horrified innocents gawping at her misery.

“Five,” Charlie shrieked, and then sniffing back tears added, “thank you, Ma’am,” as she descended into sobs. Nor had the next 25 swats so lovingly and slowly applied been any easier to bear.

Now the tight lobes of her bottom ached under a sheen of persistent soreness, it was way too tender at the point where her skin touched her cotton panties. But at least she had managed to put some on, that had been completely out the day before.

The worst part was that she already faced another 15 in less than a week on top of any other sanction she had yet to earn; and earn them she would, she thought ruefully.


Donna’s Warren’s bottom settled uneasily on the hard plastic coffee shop chair, it especially chaffed at the tight tender bud between her two tender curves. But at least she could now just about sit down. That was more than could be said for the thoroughly morose sorority girl standing at the window shelf that Donna pretended not to notice. Oh to have been a fly on the wall when she tasted the paddle, Donna thought, but her enthusiasm was curbed somewhat by her own troubles.

Her latest run-in with Mrs Main was hardly the worst she had had but it was certainly… instructive. Donna pouted and took another sip of her coffee. The recent memory was crowded out by another from just a few weeks before.

“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” Mrs Main had then asked. At the time it was a subject which Donna was wholly ignorant.

Donna had gaped at the question and she had quailed to the tips of her toes. If she were honest she had known that this day might come and she had been a little curious, but contemplating the reality had been too… too much to comprehend and all the scenarios in her head had been played out with other girls during her intimate moments alone.

The question on that day had come after a particularly prolonged spanking while across Mrs Main’s knee. As usual despite all attempts to tough it out and preserve some pride and dignity she had nevertheless bawled like a teen.

In her fevered youth she had seen some spiked running shoes and concocted elaborate and unlikely fantasies about getting a spanking with such a thing. Her teen years had been driven by such dark punishments, and it was a secret desire she had never entirely shaken off. But the spanking that day from such a simple thing as Mrs Main’s hairbrush had rivalled all her worst expectations.

First, as always, came the tummy churning inevitability of the spanking. Second was the feeling of utter helplessness, there was a kind of liberty in being humbled like that she could never explain. The third emotion was entirely different and was the perfect moment of humility, freedom from choice combined with utter helplessness, that short time when she was scolded just before the first spank forming an emotional state all on its own. Then the spanking rendered all introspection as nothing, as her world became bottom, hairbrush and Mrs Main.

Donna remembered, and at the same time couldn’t remember the relentless sting that built up and up until it was all she could comprehend. The pain described every curve of her flesh and until she thought that it would never ever end; and then it did. Or at least the physical assault did. The burn throbbed on as Mrs Main renewed the verbal emotional tirade. The one where words were unimportant and just the tone offered some balm.

But all this was underpinned by dread. Donna knew the spanking was not over and that the housemother was only waiting for the sting to become bearable again so that she could build upon it again.

“Please, I’ll be good, I’m sorry,” Donna might have babbled, she couldn’t recall, such shame now blotted form her mind. Then she did remember and her face melted.

“What if your students could see this?” Mrs Main had said sharply, “You wouldn’t be so high and mighty then, would you? You think it couldn’t happen? You are not the first 20-something or even 30-something I have put in her place.”

In that moment Donna had never felt so humbled, but worse was yet to come.

“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” moments before Donna had fled from the memory of what had happened next and had taken refuge in her spanking. Now she hid her face as she furtively looked around, certain now that everyone in the coffee shop knew she was still punished so dreadfully.

Mrs Main had stripped Donna naked and put her on her knees in the bath. Her bottom had still burned and while the housemother had fussed with something the teacher didn’t dare contemplate, Donna had cupped her bottom cheeks and marvelled at the hot leathery texture she heft in both hands.

“Bend over it then and reach back under the tray,” the housemother had ordered.

Donna had frowned for a second, not daring to let her mind dwell on what was happening. In front of her across the bath was a removable stainless steel cage serving as a tray to hold any required soaps or rubber ducks; her parents had one, she remembered. Only this one was sturdier and had plasticised padding on the middle portion which might have been a seat for the convenience of leg shaving or…

“Yes that, bend over it and get your bottom right up,” Mrs Main scolded.

Donna blinked and then dumbly looked at the housemother. On the bathroom counter behind her was a small bucket, a hot water bottle thing, some rubber tubing and a funnel.

“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” Mrs Main had previously asked her, the words still reverberating as they always would.

Donna was halfway to obeying when she finally grasped her fate and she gasped.

“I hope you feel thoroughly ashamed of yourself,” Mrs Main sighed.

“But I haven’t done anything,” Donna wailed.

“Haven’t… don’t you realise that since we have been having these Saturday session you haven’t been out late once and have been quite the model tenant here,” the housemother said as she shook her head.

Donna started and hastily tried to recall… all those mishaps that she swore were not her fault, or all that confrontation when all she had to do was been in on time… Donna blushed as comprehension, which had been a long time coming finally landed.

Sitting in the coffee shop Donna blanched white for a second and then hot blood surge through her in a flush to end all blushes.

Freya did a double take as she looked at the older woman and nearly asked if something was wrong. What’s eating her? The waitress openly stared.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that the woman was on faculty Freya could have sworn she was looking at a post-paddled sorority girl. For one thing, she knew the look; Freya even saw it in the mirror sometimes.

No, there was no doubt about it, Dr Donna Warren, a woman nearer 30 than college-age had definitely got her tail paddled, and recently. Freya smirked. She now felt a whole lot better about her run in with her Dad.

I think I know I always have it coming, she ruefully decided, but now I know I am not alone now I can hardly claim to be too old for a spanking.

Donna swallowed hard as she recalled that recent and mortifying Saturday, now she understood something. She caught the waitress staring and hastily fussed with the spoon in her cup and ducked her head.

That day she had been naked in the bath and bottom very definitely and embarrassingly up. When Mrs Main had thumbed a healthy scoop of Vaseline onto her tiny nether bud she had gasped; if it had been possibly to literally die of shame, then she would have done so, but there had been no such luck.

The housemother had been generous in her application of the petroleum gunk, even letting her thumb ease inside a little. Then she had felt something sterner and altogether larger.

“Oh Jesus,” Donna had squealed, “What the… what are you doing?”

“The thermometer will make sure you aren’t sick,” Mrs Main told her seriously, “But since it was designed for horses it will push the lubricant deeper in for you.”

“Noooo don’t,” Donna wailed as her jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Think yourself lucky young lady, in my day the only easing came via carbolic and that can really make your eyes water, as one day I will show you. But I know this is a first for you so…” Mrs Main sounded almost maternal.

“B-but,” Donna didn’t really know what to say.

“When I was in your position, my housemother usually had three or four of us in a row for this. The bathrooms weren’t so private either and a senior girl was often drafted to supervise while we waited for… well, whatever came next,” Mrs Main chuckled, “You really have no idea how Spartan college life was in Abraham Heights some 20-odd years ago.”

“B-b-but, but, but,” Donna muttered, suddenly overwhelmed by the strange sensations.

“A little deeper I think,” the house mother said cheerfully.

Donna lunged forward as she groaned.

“Listen… I don’t… I can’t… you can’t do this,” Donna spluttered, sure now that she would die.

“What was that?” Mrs Main asked sharply.

“I mean… I know I said…” Donna forced the words out through a clamped jaw.

“Do we have to go back to the days when you had to go across my knee for every little rebellion?” the housemother scolded.

N-no, I just…”

“I am so glad to hear it,” Mrs Main sighed and then to Donna’s relief tugged the large glass tube free of the young woman’s bottom hole.

Donna collapsed onto her elbows and sagged into panting confusion. At least it was over, never had she felt so… exposed? Her train of thought was interrupted by a startle as something bigger pressed her intimate bud.

“This is one of my smaller funnels,” the housemother said soothingly, “Think yourself lucky I am not using a plunger.”

The tightness gave way to painful stretching and Donna belt her eyes bug in her head.

“The nozzle is only about five inches on this one and there is a narrowing to help hold it near the flared part,” Mrs Main explained as she let the funnel settle in a position so that it protruded from Donna’s bottom.

“It won’t… it won’t… it’s slipping,” Donna wailed.

“Just a moment,” came the reply. Then a splash of water turned to a flood.

The sensation was intense, the molten assault was almost too hot and touched her deeper than anything ever, ever had. It was even more intimate than sex and in another arena… but then Donna felt the pressure.

“Th-that’s enough,” Donna gasped.

“Nonsense, this is only the start, just a quick primer if you like,” Mrs Main talked slow like she was concentrating.

“N-no, no really… this is… ahhh, please I… I can’t…” Donna’s groan might have been heard up the hall and she had to clench her mouth tight.

“Now hold that,” Mrs Main said at last as she reached for a watch.

Three times Mrs Main let Donna empty herself before a longer fuller refill and three times Donna cried like a little girl and promised to be good.

For the second enema the housemother employed a bigger funnel, which was way big enough. She had to hold it longer too. But nothing prepared her for the third intrusion.

The hose was almost as big as a gardener’s and filled Donna like a snake. The other end was attached to a rubber bag which Mrs Main hung from the shower rail.

“This one has something interesting in among the soap and water you will find…” the housemother began.

“Oh… ah, nnngh, oh my God,” Donna groaned.

“Oh I see you have found that out,” the older woman chuckled, “Now I am going to leave you with that one for a while.”

The next long while had been torment enough, but then Mrs Main had introduced her to an old sorority trick.

“I think that’s enough of that for now, I bet you have never been so thoroughly cleansed,” the housemother chuckled.

“No Ma’am,” Donna said as she collapsed with relief.

All the same she was still bottom up in a very humiliating position.

“Now in my sorority days pledges had to go smooth, you know down there and just to makes sure us precious little brats, and we were, got the message there was a way of making sure you knew the rules,” Mrs Main began.

Donna sagged, apprehensive now about what was coming.

“In my day we used a candle, for… all kinds of things, but young women are so liberated today. I confiscated this off of one of my girls,” the older woman said disapprovingly. “It’s not too big, it should fit.”

Donna looked back in horror, “fit?” what was she doing? Then she saw the pink vibrator in the housemother’s hand.

“Don’t worry, no batteries, and strangely the girl who had this swore she didn’t need it anymore, well once I paddled her three ways from Sunday,” Mrs Main gave Donna an evil grin. Then pressing the pink plastic to Donna’s bottom she pressed it gently home. “I already soaped it, it should… there,” she added.

“Oh God,” Donna gasped. She was just wondering what the tweezers were for when Mrs Main explained.

“Now I am going to…” the housemother’s words were interrupted by a wholesome scream from Donna, “…Pluck these hairs for you. One by one until I get bored, just as we did in the old days. You’ll never forget this and I intend that you shouldn’t”

“Oh come on… ouch,” Donna gasped, but she was still more worried about the tight fit in her bottom, for some reason she hated that it slipped a little like she might expel it. Surely that was a good thing? But it was unsettling all the same. The she shrieked again.

“Until you get bored?” Donna asked anxiously.

“Yes, sorry about that, but this would take for ever and I only need 15 or 20 minutes to make a point. Memorable no, especially when I take them from… here?”

The sharp tug was right at the bud and Donna squealed before groaning for several moments.

“You get it, don’t you? I mean, you will never forget this day and that is the whole point,” Mrs Main said kindly.

“But… but…” Donna sniffed, struggling now not to cry.

“Now, now, I’ll shave you close when I am done, that way the memory will last,” Mrs Main smiled. “Save your tears for another spanking afterwards, I may even cane you.”

Donna gaped.

“I know, you can thank me another time,” the housemother said with a wink.

Donna shifted on her seat, still conscious of the fresh bristle grown down below where it hadn’t quite grown back. Freya was no longer looking at her and the sorority girl didn’t seem to notice anything, but she blushed all the same, certain that everyone knew.

“The lady doth protest too much,” she muttered.

“What was that ma’am,” Freya asked brightly.

Donna shook her head and dismissed the enquiry with a smile. Mrs Main was an old hand at this game and she must have seen Donna for what she was from the very start. Okay, I get it now, Donna thought. But the truth was she knew now that she always had, why else had she put up with the housemother’s crazy regime? No not crazy, if it didn’t exist then Donna would have seen it invented, only… only what?

She shifted on the seat again and knew Mrs Main was right, her memories where indelibly fixed now and she had learned. Not that the housemother wouldn’t continue to teach, Donna’s fate was sealed in that regard. No she would have to make other arrangements now that she now knew what they needed to be and she already had a plan.

9 Responses to “Abraham Heights: Tender Memories”

  1. Magnificent ! Encroyable !!!!

  2. This story is so great. It kills that you wait so long between chapters, but I understand.

  3. 4 vlad

    Thanks for finally writing the enema scene. I’m really curious to see what both Donna and Mrs Main have planned. Abraham Heights and New Lanark Island are my favorites.

  4. I love enema scenes and they fit in so well with spanking scenes. Tummies can figuratively churn in anticipation of a bare-bottomed spanking but they literally churn when an enema is infused, the bad girl’s belly swelling as the enema does it’s painful work. The sight of the big red bag, soap suds dripping down the sides, hose with long thick special “bone” attached at the end and temporarily suspended over the top of the bag, when spied can not but evoke those special feelings on the part of the girl who is about to experience the administration of the enema.

    Tweezers too which slowly and methodically extract pubic hair by their roots cause the girl to cry out in pain as the older woman patiently listens to the younger girl’s wails. The older woman is preparing her initiate for the lovemaking to follow–to follow after the thrashing of the girl’s bottom, the cleansing of her with the enema, and shaving of the remaining pubic hairs. No doubt she will kiss the tears from the younger girl’s face as she does what she needs to do.

  5. 7 Becky

    I have a lot of sympathy for Freya facing two or more hours of uninterupted corner time. I get an hour after a punishment caning and it plenty long enough.

    • 8 DJ

      You and Cindy (and several others) wanted to know about the Big E confrontation between the two – so this was a flashback story 🙂

  6. 9 Svetlana

    The flashbacks are the main focus here, and I particularly enjoyed the first one, but there is something beautiful about the frame scene: three young women in a coffee shop, not acquainted personally, in different life situations, but all of them recently spanked and all of them basically okay with that, particularly (in Freya’s case) when realising others get it, too … it’s Abraham Heights captured in a snapshot.

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