World 7

Nora descended the stairs…

Ted held her hand and led her into the living room. Conversation stopped. He took her to where her mother sat, and gave her a small nod.

“Mother, I’m very sorry for the language I used earlier. Ted has punished me for it, and you can be sure of my ladylike speech in the future." Her mother nodded acceptance, and Ted walked her to her father.

“Daddy, I’m sorry about how I spoke just now. I’ve been carefully disciplined, and it won’t happen again.”

“I’m sure it won’t, honey,” he replied lovingly.

And so she was taken around the room, to apologize even to her little brother, telling each one of her contrition, spanking, and absolution.

It was harder than the time over her beloved’s knee.

World 6

(See this post for background.)

Nora descended the stairs…

“Sounded like a scorcher,” Gene observed.

Nora blushed, embarrassed to have them all looking at her, even more discomfited by her honorary-uncle’s inquisitiveness. When she didn’t answer, he persisted.

“What was that, couple hundred on the bare ass?” He turned to Ted. “You paddled her well and truly on the sit spot, I hope.”

Ted only nodded, not willing to make his bride blush any harder.

“Here, Nora, have a seat,” offered Opal, gesturing toward the only unpadded chair in the room.

“Hah, she won’t sit for a week, sounded like to me,” piped in Jerry.

Little brother Patrick snuck up behind her and grabbed Nora’s ass, causing her to yelp and pull away. “Two weeks, I betcha!”

World 5

Nora descended the stairs…

Her loved ones stopped chatting and looked up at her and at Ted. Her dad searched her face for any signs that she had been less than perfectly handled; finding none, he gave Ted an approving nod.

“Sounded like a scorcher,” Gene observed.

“Ted is nothing if not thorough,” Nora said with a rueful smile.

“Need an extra cushion?” Patrick asked. He always looked out for his big sister.

“Probably three,” laughed Nora.

“I do hope my daughter thanked you properly,” Nora’s mom said to her son-in-law.

“Oh, yes indeed,” Ted replied. “You taught her very well.”

World 4

Nora descended the stairs…

Her mother stood up and said brightly, “Oh, good, Nora, you’re just in time to give me a hand in the kitchen.” Nora was thankful for the diversion: she didn’t feel like being the center of attention for a while. Just as they were about to leave, Opal popped out of her chair, looked closely at her sister’s face, and then reached out to give her cheek a wipe with a quickly-produced hankie.

“Little splooge on your cheek,” she whispered. “You’re good to go now.”

World 3

(See this post for background.)

Nora descended the stairs hand in hand with her husband Ted, after a well-deserved and very thorough spanking, and after showing him her gratitude for his loving care. Those enjoying a pre-dinner libation in the living room included her parents, their friends and honorary family Liz and Gene, her sister Opal and her husband Jerry, and her brother Patrick.

There was a brief hush as everyone looked up to take the couple’s measure. Everyone was too polite to say anything, but all eyes were on Nora and she knew they were all contemplating two things: the recent sound of hard swats landing on bare buns, and the even more recent, but well-understood, period of silence.

Nobody said a word until Nora sat on the couch, and let out an unmistakeable “Eeep” as tender bottom met firm surface. Liz snorted: a laugh she tried and failed to muffle.

Then Opal laughed as much at Liz as at her sister. “You silly girl,” she choked out, “What on Earth possessed you to try to sit down already?” The guys were smiling but trying to hide it, discipline being a serious… a serious… then they joined in. Relief after tension will take people that way.

World 2

Nora descended the stairs hand in hand with her husband Ted, after a well-deserved and very thorough spanking, and after showing him her gratitude for his loving care. Those enjoying a pre-dinner libation in the living room included her parents, their friends and honorary family Liz and Gene, her sister Opal and her husband Jerry, and her brother Patrick.

Nobody really made any fuss about Nora’s reappearance. There was a slight lull in the chatter, just for a second or two, before it resumed as before. Nora caught her mother’s loving glance and blushed, seeing an understanding smile in return. After contemplating her glass for a while, she dared a longer look around. Opal was chewing on her bottom lip and darting worried glances at Jerry — perhaps she had concerns for her own ass. Gene, her dad, and Ted shared knowing but sympathetic looks: a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, after all. Stupid Patrick was grinning at her, enjoying her difficulty in finding a comfortable way to sit. He was never going to get a girlfriend at that rate.

As usual, nobody came right out and said anything — respect for privacy was the rule, after all — but she knew despite the chatter that they were all thinking about her.

World 1

Nora descended the stairs hand in hand with her husband Ted, after a well-deserved and very thorough spanking, and after showing him her gratitude for his loving care. Those enjoying a pre-dinner libation in the living room included her parents, their friends and honorary family Liz and Gene, her sister Opal and her husband Jerry, and her brother Patrick.

Nobody really made any fuss about Nora’s reappearance: the talk continued, drinks were sipped, nibblies were nibbled. With a pained gasp she couldn’t suppress, Nora resumed her former seat, with Ted beside her. Everyone knew how much Ted cared for her, and would have been aghast if he had let her misbehavior go uncorrected.

“Gouda?” asked Gene, passing a plate.

“Thank you,” Nora replied, and took a sip of her wine.

Twelve worlds

Over the past few months, I have been exploring an idea with a few friends: that of observed or otherwise not-quite-private discipline.

What if one is taken away to a private spot to be spanked, and others can hear? What if they can’t hear but know anyway, from circumstances? What is it like to return to the group? What if they watch? How does one feel, and how do others react? Some of my correspondents have been generous enough to share personal experiences and fantasies along these lines.

One theme that keeps emerging is how much it matters who those observers are. Are they strangers, family, friends, intimates? Do they ignore, comment, laugh, tease, or turn cruel?

And what is the society and its norms? Is spanking someone for misbehavior a shocking, incredible act — or is it a ho-hum of daily existence, hardly worth notice?

As a byproduct of these conversations, I wrote twelve vignettes for one friend. Each is essentially the same story, but set in twelve slightly varying worlds — societies with, as the stories are ordered, a decreasing level of privacy and dignity for the protagonist. Although these were meant as private illustrations (the question being: where do they stop being arousing and start being awful), my friend has encouraged me to share them.

I will do that. But please keep in mind that these are not polished efforts — merely sketches.

Twelve worlds coming up forthwith.

— Frenulum

Decision time

I almost stumbled as I came in the door over three pairs of shoes: black loafers, plain, brown loafers, tasseled, glossy black Mary-Janes with a bit of a heel.

There were three plaid uniform jumpers, more or less neatly folded, piled at the end of the couch.

There were two white blouses draped over the arm. No sign of a third. And one bra on the coffee table, which sat at an odd angle from the couch as if someone had kicked it.

One pair of baby-blue cotton bikini panties, size S, on the newel post at the foot of the stairs. Still warm, and, it seemed to me, rather moist. Another pair, white with pink flowers, eight stairs up.

The bedroom door was ajar. I heard voices, one well-known, two familiar but hard to pin down.

I was home hours early.

I contemplated my next step.

— Frenulum

December

I apologize to readers for being absent during December. End-of-year work deadlines have obliterated my free time.

Thank you for your patience in checking, from time to time, to see if there is something new here.

Allow me to take the opportunity, during a time of year when many people celebrate many things (let’s not go into all of those permutations), to offer my wish that you have contentment and happiness. Your visits here, and your support of my writing, certainly contribute to mine.

— Frenulum

Peeking (2)

Seriously, I wonder sometimes how you ladies ever get out of the house in the morning. I would be so tempted, were I possessed of such a beautiful gem, such an artwork in flesh.
Oh, just one more little peek. Just for a minute or two before I finish dressing. Oh, my, so pretty! That is just… two more minutes, what could that hurt? I’ll just look. I won’t touch… won’t touch, not even a little… just looking for a bit and — oh! Oh my! Oh that feels so — Ahhhhhh yessssssss…
And once again, an hour late and on the day’s second pair of panties already.

The first Peeking post offers more of the same if, like me, you can’t get enough.
— Frenulum

Escape from the cesspool?

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Hotel room

She:

Selects fresh hand towel. Folds it in half and lays it beside the sink. Removes toiletries from suitcase, arranging them on the towel by function: nails here, eyes over here, lotions in this place, medicines in that. Rearranges by time of day and order of use. Rearranges with taller items in back, shorter in front. Rearranges by function within time of day. Clears off towel, moves it to the opposite side of the sink; rearranges toiletries on towel. Satisfied, goes to hang up clothes and arrange lingerie neatly in drawers. Places empty suitcase in closet behind shoes.

He:

Drops suitcase on chair. Removes Dopp kit (that’s sponge bag for those of you East of the pond) from suitcase, places beside sink. Thinks deeply about settling in for the length of the stay: finally commits to unzipping kit. Satisfied, turns on ESPN; plans to hang shirt near the shower in the morning in case there are any really bad wrinkles.

— Frenulum (based on a few recent observations)

In Trouble

She came in to my office, stood in front of my desk, handed me a note, and waited.

“Mrs. Hawthorne says that you are in violation of the dress code,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

I stood and walked around my desk. I gave her a careful look. “Your heels are high enough: I don’t need to get the ruler out. It’s clear at a glance that your kilt is short enough. That’s a standard uniform blouse. Everything is clean. Your hair is done properly.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, not quite suppressing a mischievous smile.

Then it hit me. Some of the girls, skittish about the brevity of their uniform kilts, had recently tried adding an illegal pair of bike shorts underneath. “Lift your kilt, please,” I instructed.

Her smile got even more saucy. She grabbed the hem and raised it high, revealing nothing beneath it but bare schoolgirl pussy.

It took me a moment to react, as I gazed at that beautiful flower. “What— How— Why are you not wearing panties, Miss?” I demanded.

She held her skirt high as she raised one foot to plant it on the seat of a chair; her glistening labia parted with a juicy squick. She reached down with a finger and began slowly to circle her clit. “I know I’m only a Junior,” she said in sultry tones. “But I thought being this naughty might convince you to give me a Senior girl’s punishment.”

— Frenulum

Quiet?

Last night found me, traveling for business, in a little Midwestern (USA) town — flyover country, to the coasties. It was my first visit, but I had heard of it from time to time over the years from a friend who grew up here: a sleepy, four-stoplight town that woke up only a few days a year for its annual flower festival.

What I found instead, venturing out for dinner, was a vibrant, active, youthful place teeming with energy. Every restaurant was packed, music spilled from every door, the sidewalks were busy and full of “Where to next?” excitement.

On a Wednesday night. The desk clerk at the hotel said things really pick up on the weekends.

It reminded me of a long-ago warning that was given to a girl I was seeing, by one of her friends. “Careful,” she advised, “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”

From the road,

— Frenulum