"Oh, hello, Christina," Sheldon said cheerfully as he answered the door to find the daughter of his next-door neighbour Brenda standing on his doorstep.
"Hello, Mister Fenwick," the teenager responded, in a despondent tone. She had her hands behind her back, and a look on her face that suggested that she wanted to be a million miles away.
"Now, what can I do for you today?" he said, still in the same sunny tone. Sighing, Christina took out the letter she'd been holding behind her back, offering it to him. He frowned. "I see," he said, his voice now markedly less friendly. "A letter from your mother again? I guess we'd better head inside."
Christina's legs trembled slightly as she followed her big, strong neighbour into his house. She knew what was about to happen to her, and she was not looking forward to it.
A few months ago, Brenda and Sheldon had been chatting at the garden fence. "I don't know what to do about Christina," Brenda had complained. "She's getting sassier and sassier. I had hoped that she'd mature once she turned 18, but she seems more childish than ever. She even called me the B word at breakfast today!"
"Well, if either of my daughters had something like that to me or Skye at that age, they wouldn't sit for a week," Sheldon replied with a frown. Skye was Sheldon's wife, who had sadly passed away a few years before.
Brenda sighed. "Discipline was always my husband's job. He knew how to get her to behave. In the years since he left…" She shook her head. "I don't think I'd feel comfortable spanking her. Could I do as good a job as he did? Besides, as big as she's getting, I'm not sure I'd win that struggle," she said with a rueful grin.
A thoughtful look passed across Sheldon's face. "You know, if you ever need any help, you could always send her over to me. I've raised two daughters who found themselves over my lap whenever they needed it, and I know how to deal with a stroppy young madam."
Brenda considered the proposal. "You know, I think that's a really good idea."
They'd broken the news to Christina later that evening. Her arguments that she was too old, and that it was too cruel, and that it would be humiliating to be spanked by a man who was not related to her, fell on deaf ears, and her claims that she was too well-behaved were treated with the derision they deserved. She finally threw a tantrum, earning her first trip over her neighbour's lap. As Christina squirmed and sobbed over Sheldon's knee, her bare bottom burning bright red as she promised to behave, Brenda grinned. Yes, this arrangement would suit her just fine.
After that, whenever the teenager would get too big for her britches, Brenda jotted down a short description of the transgression, placed it in an envelope, sealed it, and handed it over to her cringing daughter, who was forced to take it next door to face her punishment.
"What did you do this time?" Sheldon asked as he tapped the envelope against the table.
"Why don't you just read mum's note?" Christina replied sourly. "I'm sure she's explained it."
Sheldon raised an eyebrow. "Because I need to make sure that you understand what you did wrong. I suggest a little less of the attitude, missy. My guess is that you're in enough trouble as it is – though I can always add a few extras at the end if you continue to sass me."
Christina shivered. She knew he meant it. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, hoping that cooperating could reduce her punishment. "I skipped school yesterday, sir. It was a nice day, and I wanted to go to the beach."
"I see," Sheldon responded. "Anything else?"
Christina thought about it. "Not that I can remember, sir."
Sheldon opened the letter. Like Christina had said, her mother had found out that she'd skipped school, and she wanted Sheldon to spank her. As always, she left the details up to him. He looked at the errant schoolgirl. "Right. No reason not to get started, is there? Fetch the chair, Christina."
Christina pouted. Until that moment, there had been a small hope that he wouldn't spank her. Maybe he'd just scold her, or make her write lines, or something. He'd shown lenience in the past, when he thought she deserved it. However, when he asked her to fetch the spanking chair, there was no question what was about to occur.
Christina picked up the wooden chair that rested against the wall, and carried it into the centre of the room. She then stood at the right-hand side, ready to go over his lap when the moment came. She'd been spanked enough times to know the drill.
As Sheldon sat down, he unbuttoned and unzipped her tight jeans, slowly peeling them down to her knees to reveal a pair of bright blue panties. He sometimes wondered why she never changed into a skirt or a dress before coming over – if she did, he could pull over his lap before flipping it up, which would surely be less embarrassing than standing before him with her trousers down. Besides, a skirt would probably be less painful on a sore bottom than a pair of figure-hugging jeans. However, that was HER problem, not his, and he saw no reason to spend precious time telling teenaged girls how to dress.
With her trousers down, he guided her gently over his knees. Her bottom was raised over his lap, while her hands and toes touched the floor. Satisfied with her position, he placed his fingers in the waistband of her panties and whisked them down to join her jeans around her knees. He then lifted his hand, slamming it down on the pale, trembling cheeks in front of him.
Christina yelped, wriggling around. The first spank always took her by surprise, no matter how many times she found herself facing the carpet. Sheldon spanked hard and fast from the first second – disciplining sassy teenagers was not a task he particularly enjoyed, and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, while making sure that she learned her lesson. He also didn't spend much time lecturing her before the spanking, as he found that young ladies tended to listen best when their bottoms were burning.
"I am disappointed in you, Christina," he scolded as he spanked her. "Skipping school to go to the beach? Do you care so little about your education?" Christina knew he wasn't really expecting a response, which was good – right now, she needed all her breath for hissing and squealing. His hand moved from cheek to cheek, flattening her round orbs with every firm slap. "In a few shorts months, you're probably going to find yourself in college. Are you planning to show up unprepared? Or are you going to skip classes there too, wasting your education?"
He'd only spanked her for a few minutes, but already, tears were streaming down her face. Sheldon knew how to make a young lady feel truly sorry for her actions. "Ow! I'm sorry, Mister Fenwick! Ouch!"
"I know, girl, I know – but you'll be a lot sorrier by the time I'm done," he replied as his hand continued its assault on her naked hindquarters.
Christine was howling like a banshee and squirming like a fish on land by the time he finally ended the spanking. He sat her on his lap and hugged her, cooing. "Shhh, baby. You're forgiven."
Christina hugged him back, breathing a sigh of relief. Part of her had been worried that skipping school was bad enough that he would tell her to fetch the paddle – but once he started comforting her, she knew the punishment was over. "I'm sorry, Mister Fenwick," she said, sobbing into his shirt. "I promise I'll behave!" While she hated every second of his spankings, there was something wonderful about being held like this. She never felt safer than she was sitting on Mister Fenwick's lap after one of his punishments.
"That's good, sweetie," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'm glad to hear it." Based on her track record, he found it unlikely that she would, but it was nice to hear her say it.
As the girl slowly pulled her jeans back up, hissing in pain as the rough fabric clung to her sore seat, Sheldon fetched a pen and wrote a short note on Brenda's letter, explaining how the punishment had gone. He re-sealed the envelope, handing it back. With a gentle kiss on the forehead, which Christina found too brief, and a last pat on the backside, which Christina found much too hard, he sent the girl back home.
Christina entered the house, finding her mother in the living room. Brenda grinned as she saw her daughter's tear-streaked face. "Not so sassy now, I suppose?"
Biting back the retort she wished to make, Christina managed to respond, "No, mum." She placed the letter down on the table, before making her way upstairs to cool down her burning bottom. She found that she was out of lotion, however, and decided to fetch some from the bathroom. As she came downstairs again, she saw her mother pick up the envelope and toss it in the garbage, as if the matter was settled and no longer of any interest to her.
Christina found the lotion and went back to her bedroom. While rubbing the cooling cream on her aching rear, she started to wonder. Did her mother ever look at the messages that Mister Fenwick wrote? Or did she just assume that he'd handled it, and decide that it was none of her concern?
She wondered if her mother would even notice if she didn't, in fact, bring the letter to Mister Fenwick…
A few weeks later, Christina was in trouble again. She'd taken some money from her mum's purse to go to the movies, and the old bat had found out. As usual, Brenda pulled out a pen, wrote a short note to her neighbour, and handed the sealed envelope to her daughter. The girl was sent out with a stern glare.
However, rather than go to Mister Fenwick's house, Christina headed down into the garden. There were no windows on this side, so she wouldn't be visible from either house. She sat down behind a rock, pulled out her phone, and spent half an hour on TikTok. That was roughly how long she usually spent at Mister Fenwick's house, wasn't it? Obviously, it felt a lot longer when she was being spanked, but if she had to guess, that was a reasonable estimate.
Once the wait time was over, she returned to the house. A few minutes with her makeup bag made it look like she'd been crying, and she rubbed the seat of her jeans very convincingly. Giving her mother a chastened look, she placed the envelope on the table and hurried up to her room. She returned to her cell phone, but kept casting nervous glances at the door. Would her mother discover it? Would she be sent over to Mister Fenwick for an even worse punishment than the one she'd tried to avoid? Or had she gotten away with it?
A few hours later, Christina allowed herself to grin. She'd won. She'd found a way to escape all of those awful, awful spankings. It was foolproof!
What could possibly go wrong?
One day, Brenda and Sheldon found themselves at the garden fence again while raking the yard. "Oh, hello, Brenda. All well?"
"Hi! Listen, I wanted to talk to you about my daughter's behaviour."
"Oh." Sheldon smiled. "Yeah, she really seems to have improved these last few weeks, hasn't she?"
Brenda raised an eyebrow. "Improved? After that stunt she pulled last week? Pulling the fire alarm to get out of a maths test…"
"Oh? he said, surprised. "I hadn't heard. Was there a reason you didn't send her over to me?"
"I did! I wrote a note and sent her over, you spanked her, and she came back!"
Sheldon's frown deepened. "Brenda, Christina hasn't come to see me for… well, it must be six weeks! When she skipped school to go to the beach." Sheldon had noticed the hiatus, but hadn't thought much of it, since there was no rhythm to Christina's punishments – she was disciplined when she needed it. Sometimes she could go weeks without a spanking, and sometimes she was spanked multiple times in a single week. Once, she'd been spanked and sent home, sassed her mother when she asked her if she had learned her lesson, and been sent straight back. The second, harder spanking had convinced her to never make that mistake again.
"What are you talking about? I've sent her over twice this week!"
And that was when the two adults began to compare notes.
"Hi, mum. I'm home," Christina called out when she returned from the store. "I picked up a couple of –" She entered the living room to find her mother and her neighbour glaring sternly at her. "Oh." This looked bad. She assumed her most innocent expression, praying that this was about something other than what she feared it was. "Is something wrong?"
"Christina. When was the last time you were spanked by Sheldon?"
Ah. Her prayers had gone unanswered. "Really, mum, I can't be expected to keep track of –"
"Christina." The warning tone in Mister Fenwick's voice made her want to run away and hide.
She swallowed. At this point, telling the truth was probably the wisest course of action. "About… about six weeks," she mumbled. "I think."
Her mother folded her arms in front of her chest. "And when I sent you over last week with that note about the fire alarm, where did you actually go?"
"…The garden." She flinched, not wanting to look either of them in the eyes.
Mister Fenwick leaned forward, looking at her. "Do you know what's going to happen, Christina?"
Her mouth was suddenly dry. "A spanking?" she guessed, once again praying she was wrong.
"No," he responded. Her eyes widened – her prayers had been heard after all! Then, he cruelly dashed her hopes to smithereens. "SEVEN spankings, Christina."
She gasped. "Seven!?" She'd never sit again! She'd end up in the hospital! She'd have to explain to people why she no longer had a butt!
"One for each of the spankings you SHOULD have had, plus an extra for lying about it."
She bit her lip. "You know, TECHNICALLY I didn't lie. I never said that –" She caught the look in his eyes and immediately folded. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have done it, sir. It'll never happen again, sir," she mumbled.
"Every day after school for the next week, you will go straight to his house and take your spanking before coming home to dinner," her mother said. "On Saturday and Sunday, you will head over straight after breakfast."
"And note that if you misbehave AT ALL during the coming week, that will earn you an extra spanking," he rumbled. "These spankings are for things you have already done."
Christina tried her hardest to think of a way out of this, but nothing came to mind.
Mister Fenwick sighed. "Let's get this over with." He picked up a large, heavy wooden object, tapping it against his palm.
"The paddle!" Christina squeaked, taking a step back. Surely that was too much?
"Any objections, Christina?" He raised an eyebrow.
She swallowed. "No, sir," she said. She was almost certain that there was nothing she could say that would convince him not to use the paddle – and she was entirely certain that if she somehow managed it, he'd just find something even more horrible and use that instead.
He beckoned her over, and she stepped close to him. Once again, those experienced hands unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, before lowering them to her knees. She found herself being picked up and placed over his lap, and her panties were lowered.
The hard wood tapped against her poor backside, and she could feel the tears streaming down before he'd even started. She'd felt the paddle before, and wished she could somehow launch it into the sun. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, clutching his leg for dear life.
"I'm glad to hear it," he said, raising the paddle. "But not as sorry as you're about to be." And the paddle whistled towards its target.
As the hard wood slammed into her poor, soft, unprotected posterior, covering both cheeks at once, Christina howled. Somehow, it was even worse than she remembered! She began to buck and bounce to the tune of the paddle, yelping pitifully.
The paddle continued to slam down on her bare bottom, and she squirmed and kicked so much that Mister Fenwick had to place his left hand on her back to hold her in place. Every stroke burned like fire, and he swung it hard and fast. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to her! She glanced up at her mother, hoping she would save her, but Brenda seemed to find the whole thing amusing.
It took only a few minutes before she was whimpering limply over his lap, too tired to struggle or even plead for mercy.
Finally, after an eternity of pain, he put the paddle down. He helped Christina up, kissing her forehead and whispering softly to her as she sat gingerly on his lap and cried into his shoulder.
When she finally calmed down, she picked up the jeans and panties that she'd kicked off into a corner, before heading up to her bedroom to cry herself to sleep. "I'll see you after school tomorrow," her neighbour called out as she left, and she sobbed – she'd somehow forgotten that she was only one-seventh of the way through her punishment. The spanking tomorrow, on an already-sore bottom, would be absolute torture. And the one after that? She'd never do anything so stupid again!
As they watched the crimson-bottomed teenager head upstairs, Brenda glanced over at Sheldon. "I don't think she'll be doing that again."
"Me neither, but you never know." He took a sip of his tea. "Did she forge my signature on the letters or something?"
Brenda shrugged. "I don't know – I never bother reading them."
"You never read them?" He frowned. "Then how would you know what's happened?"
"Oh, I leave that in your hands. Punishment's your department. How you punish her is up to you."
He gave her a concerned look. "You take no interest at all? And how are we going to make sure she doesn't do this again?" He thought about it. "I could phone you and tell you –"
"No thanks," she said. "I don't wish to be bothered with this."
"Oh." He thought again. "Well, if you brought her over to my house instead of sending her over, we could make sure –"
"Oh, please." She waved the thought away. "I have better things to do with my time than escort my daughter over to the neighbour's house. She's old enough to go on her own."
"Well, she didn't do that, did she?" he pointed out. "She hid in the garden. I guess I could just send you a text message letting you know that the punishment –"
"I told you," she snapped, "Punishment is YOUR department. You decide what's appropriate, and you leave me out of it. Just because you messed up –"
He frowned. "Messed up? How exactly did I mess up?"
"Well, I sent her over so you could punish her… and you didn't." She shrugged. "Case closed."
He leaned forward, his eyes suddenly stern. "She WOULD have been punished if you so much as glanced at the letters I sent back with her. That's how we made sure justice was served. I have to say, you're not taking any responsibility here, and you're being needlessly and unjustifiably rude to someone who's helping you raise your daughter." He scowled. "I'm starting to wonder if your daughter isn't the only woman in this house that lacks discipline."
"How dare you!" Blushing, Brenda leaned forward and slapped him across the face. It was only when she saw the look he gave her that she realized what a mistake she'd made.
A few seconds later, she found herself across her neighbour's lap, with her skirt raised and her panties around her knees. "Sheldon! This isn't funny! Let me up at – Ow! That hurt," she whined.
"It's supposed to hurt," he scolded, continuing to spank her. "You take no interest in your daughter's behaviour, refuse to take responsibility, blame me for your mistakes, and then SLAP me!" A series of hard spanks to her sit spots made her howl. "You deserve every smack!"
"Let me up! Ouch! You can't do this! Ow! Stop it!"
"I'll stop when you've learned your lesson, young lady – not before." His hand continued to slam against her ample posterior. To her horror, she could feel tears at the edges of her eyes.
"Ow! Please, can't we do this at your house instead? Christina might hear us! Ouch! Not so hard!"
He chuckled – she'd stopped telling him he couldn't do it, and instead started negotiating about where and how hard. Reality was finally settling in. "If she does, maybe that will convince your daughter that a bad girl is never too old for a good spanking, no matter her age," he scolded as he continued to paint her backside red.
By the time she was finally allowed to rise, falling into his embrace so that he could dry her tears, Brenda was apologizing sincerely for her behaviour, and promising to pay more attention to her daughter and her needs. Sheldon grinned to himself with the satisfaction of a job well done.
"Hello, Mister Fenwick," the teenager responded, in a despondent tone. She had her hands behind her back, and a look on her face that suggested that she wanted to be a million miles away.
"Now, what can I do for you today?" he said, still in the same sunny tone. Sighing, Christina took out the letter she'd been holding behind her back, offering it to him. He frowned. "I see," he said, his voice now markedly less friendly. "A letter from your mother again? I guess we'd better head inside."
Christina's legs trembled slightly as she followed her big, strong neighbour into his house. She knew what was about to happen to her, and she was not looking forward to it.
A few months ago, Brenda and Sheldon had been chatting at the garden fence. "I don't know what to do about Christina," Brenda had complained. "She's getting sassier and sassier. I had hoped that she'd mature once she turned 18, but she seems more childish than ever. She even called me the B word at breakfast today!"
"Well, if either of my daughters had something like that to me or Skye at that age, they wouldn't sit for a week," Sheldon replied with a frown. Skye was Sheldon's wife, who had sadly passed away a few years before.
Brenda sighed. "Discipline was always my husband's job. He knew how to get her to behave. In the years since he left…" She shook her head. "I don't think I'd feel comfortable spanking her. Could I do as good a job as he did? Besides, as big as she's getting, I'm not sure I'd win that struggle," she said with a rueful grin.
A thoughtful look passed across Sheldon's face. "You know, if you ever need any help, you could always send her over to me. I've raised two daughters who found themselves over my lap whenever they needed it, and I know how to deal with a stroppy young madam."
Brenda considered the proposal. "You know, I think that's a really good idea."
They'd broken the news to Christina later that evening. Her arguments that she was too old, and that it was too cruel, and that it would be humiliating to be spanked by a man who was not related to her, fell on deaf ears, and her claims that she was too well-behaved were treated with the derision they deserved. She finally threw a tantrum, earning her first trip over her neighbour's lap. As Christina squirmed and sobbed over Sheldon's knee, her bare bottom burning bright red as she promised to behave, Brenda grinned. Yes, this arrangement would suit her just fine.
After that, whenever the teenager would get too big for her britches, Brenda jotted down a short description of the transgression, placed it in an envelope, sealed it, and handed it over to her cringing daughter, who was forced to take it next door to face her punishment.
"What did you do this time?" Sheldon asked as he tapped the envelope against the table.
"Why don't you just read mum's note?" Christina replied sourly. "I'm sure she's explained it."
Sheldon raised an eyebrow. "Because I need to make sure that you understand what you did wrong. I suggest a little less of the attitude, missy. My guess is that you're in enough trouble as it is – though I can always add a few extras at the end if you continue to sass me."
Christina shivered. She knew he meant it. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, hoping that cooperating could reduce her punishment. "I skipped school yesterday, sir. It was a nice day, and I wanted to go to the beach."
"I see," Sheldon responded. "Anything else?"
Christina thought about it. "Not that I can remember, sir."
Sheldon opened the letter. Like Christina had said, her mother had found out that she'd skipped school, and she wanted Sheldon to spank her. As always, she left the details up to him. He looked at the errant schoolgirl. "Right. No reason not to get started, is there? Fetch the chair, Christina."
Christina pouted. Until that moment, there had been a small hope that he wouldn't spank her. Maybe he'd just scold her, or make her write lines, or something. He'd shown lenience in the past, when he thought she deserved it. However, when he asked her to fetch the spanking chair, there was no question what was about to occur.
Christina picked up the wooden chair that rested against the wall, and carried it into the centre of the room. She then stood at the right-hand side, ready to go over his lap when the moment came. She'd been spanked enough times to know the drill.
As Sheldon sat down, he unbuttoned and unzipped her tight jeans, slowly peeling them down to her knees to reveal a pair of bright blue panties. He sometimes wondered why she never changed into a skirt or a dress before coming over – if she did, he could pull over his lap before flipping it up, which would surely be less embarrassing than standing before him with her trousers down. Besides, a skirt would probably be less painful on a sore bottom than a pair of figure-hugging jeans. However, that was HER problem, not his, and he saw no reason to spend precious time telling teenaged girls how to dress.
With her trousers down, he guided her gently over his knees. Her bottom was raised over his lap, while her hands and toes touched the floor. Satisfied with her position, he placed his fingers in the waistband of her panties and whisked them down to join her jeans around her knees. He then lifted his hand, slamming it down on the pale, trembling cheeks in front of him.
Christina yelped, wriggling around. The first spank always took her by surprise, no matter how many times she found herself facing the carpet. Sheldon spanked hard and fast from the first second – disciplining sassy teenagers was not a task he particularly enjoyed, and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, while making sure that she learned her lesson. He also didn't spend much time lecturing her before the spanking, as he found that young ladies tended to listen best when their bottoms were burning.
"I am disappointed in you, Christina," he scolded as he spanked her. "Skipping school to go to the beach? Do you care so little about your education?" Christina knew he wasn't really expecting a response, which was good – right now, she needed all her breath for hissing and squealing. His hand moved from cheek to cheek, flattening her round orbs with every firm slap. "In a few shorts months, you're probably going to find yourself in college. Are you planning to show up unprepared? Or are you going to skip classes there too, wasting your education?"
He'd only spanked her for a few minutes, but already, tears were streaming down her face. Sheldon knew how to make a young lady feel truly sorry for her actions. "Ow! I'm sorry, Mister Fenwick! Ouch!"
"I know, girl, I know – but you'll be a lot sorrier by the time I'm done," he replied as his hand continued its assault on her naked hindquarters.
Christine was howling like a banshee and squirming like a fish on land by the time he finally ended the spanking. He sat her on his lap and hugged her, cooing. "Shhh, baby. You're forgiven."
Christina hugged him back, breathing a sigh of relief. Part of her had been worried that skipping school was bad enough that he would tell her to fetch the paddle – but once he started comforting her, she knew the punishment was over. "I'm sorry, Mister Fenwick," she said, sobbing into his shirt. "I promise I'll behave!" While she hated every second of his spankings, there was something wonderful about being held like this. She never felt safer than she was sitting on Mister Fenwick's lap after one of his punishments.
"That's good, sweetie," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'm glad to hear it." Based on her track record, he found it unlikely that she would, but it was nice to hear her say it.
As the girl slowly pulled her jeans back up, hissing in pain as the rough fabric clung to her sore seat, Sheldon fetched a pen and wrote a short note on Brenda's letter, explaining how the punishment had gone. He re-sealed the envelope, handing it back. With a gentle kiss on the forehead, which Christina found too brief, and a last pat on the backside, which Christina found much too hard, he sent the girl back home.
Christina entered the house, finding her mother in the living room. Brenda grinned as she saw her daughter's tear-streaked face. "Not so sassy now, I suppose?"
Biting back the retort she wished to make, Christina managed to respond, "No, mum." She placed the letter down on the table, before making her way upstairs to cool down her burning bottom. She found that she was out of lotion, however, and decided to fetch some from the bathroom. As she came downstairs again, she saw her mother pick up the envelope and toss it in the garbage, as if the matter was settled and no longer of any interest to her.
Christina found the lotion and went back to her bedroom. While rubbing the cooling cream on her aching rear, she started to wonder. Did her mother ever look at the messages that Mister Fenwick wrote? Or did she just assume that he'd handled it, and decide that it was none of her concern?
She wondered if her mother would even notice if she didn't, in fact, bring the letter to Mister Fenwick…
A few weeks later, Christina was in trouble again. She'd taken some money from her mum's purse to go to the movies, and the old bat had found out. As usual, Brenda pulled out a pen, wrote a short note to her neighbour, and handed the sealed envelope to her daughter. The girl was sent out with a stern glare.
However, rather than go to Mister Fenwick's house, Christina headed down into the garden. There were no windows on this side, so she wouldn't be visible from either house. She sat down behind a rock, pulled out her phone, and spent half an hour on TikTok. That was roughly how long she usually spent at Mister Fenwick's house, wasn't it? Obviously, it felt a lot longer when she was being spanked, but if she had to guess, that was a reasonable estimate.
Once the wait time was over, she returned to the house. A few minutes with her makeup bag made it look like she'd been crying, and she rubbed the seat of her jeans very convincingly. Giving her mother a chastened look, she placed the envelope on the table and hurried up to her room. She returned to her cell phone, but kept casting nervous glances at the door. Would her mother discover it? Would she be sent over to Mister Fenwick for an even worse punishment than the one she'd tried to avoid? Or had she gotten away with it?
A few hours later, Christina allowed herself to grin. She'd won. She'd found a way to escape all of those awful, awful spankings. It was foolproof!
What could possibly go wrong?
One day, Brenda and Sheldon found themselves at the garden fence again while raking the yard. "Oh, hello, Brenda. All well?"
"Hi! Listen, I wanted to talk to you about my daughter's behaviour."
"Oh." Sheldon smiled. "Yeah, she really seems to have improved these last few weeks, hasn't she?"
Brenda raised an eyebrow. "Improved? After that stunt she pulled last week? Pulling the fire alarm to get out of a maths test…"
"Oh? he said, surprised. "I hadn't heard. Was there a reason you didn't send her over to me?"
"I did! I wrote a note and sent her over, you spanked her, and she came back!"
Sheldon's frown deepened. "Brenda, Christina hasn't come to see me for… well, it must be six weeks! When she skipped school to go to the beach." Sheldon had noticed the hiatus, but hadn't thought much of it, since there was no rhythm to Christina's punishments – she was disciplined when she needed it. Sometimes she could go weeks without a spanking, and sometimes she was spanked multiple times in a single week. Once, she'd been spanked and sent home, sassed her mother when she asked her if she had learned her lesson, and been sent straight back. The second, harder spanking had convinced her to never make that mistake again.
"What are you talking about? I've sent her over twice this week!"
And that was when the two adults began to compare notes.
"Hi, mum. I'm home," Christina called out when she returned from the store. "I picked up a couple of –" She entered the living room to find her mother and her neighbour glaring sternly at her. "Oh." This looked bad. She assumed her most innocent expression, praying that this was about something other than what she feared it was. "Is something wrong?"
"Christina. When was the last time you were spanked by Sheldon?"
Ah. Her prayers had gone unanswered. "Really, mum, I can't be expected to keep track of –"
"Christina." The warning tone in Mister Fenwick's voice made her want to run away and hide.
She swallowed. At this point, telling the truth was probably the wisest course of action. "About… about six weeks," she mumbled. "I think."
Her mother folded her arms in front of her chest. "And when I sent you over last week with that note about the fire alarm, where did you actually go?"
"…The garden." She flinched, not wanting to look either of them in the eyes.
Mister Fenwick leaned forward, looking at her. "Do you know what's going to happen, Christina?"
Her mouth was suddenly dry. "A spanking?" she guessed, once again praying she was wrong.
"No," he responded. Her eyes widened – her prayers had been heard after all! Then, he cruelly dashed her hopes to smithereens. "SEVEN spankings, Christina."
She gasped. "Seven!?" She'd never sit again! She'd end up in the hospital! She'd have to explain to people why she no longer had a butt!
"One for each of the spankings you SHOULD have had, plus an extra for lying about it."
She bit her lip. "You know, TECHNICALLY I didn't lie. I never said that –" She caught the look in his eyes and immediately folded. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have done it, sir. It'll never happen again, sir," she mumbled.
"Every day after school for the next week, you will go straight to his house and take your spanking before coming home to dinner," her mother said. "On Saturday and Sunday, you will head over straight after breakfast."
"And note that if you misbehave AT ALL during the coming week, that will earn you an extra spanking," he rumbled. "These spankings are for things you have already done."
Christina tried her hardest to think of a way out of this, but nothing came to mind.
Mister Fenwick sighed. "Let's get this over with." He picked up a large, heavy wooden object, tapping it against his palm.
"The paddle!" Christina squeaked, taking a step back. Surely that was too much?
"Any objections, Christina?" He raised an eyebrow.
She swallowed. "No, sir," she said. She was almost certain that there was nothing she could say that would convince him not to use the paddle – and she was entirely certain that if she somehow managed it, he'd just find something even more horrible and use that instead.
He beckoned her over, and she stepped close to him. Once again, those experienced hands unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, before lowering them to her knees. She found herself being picked up and placed over his lap, and her panties were lowered.
The hard wood tapped against her poor backside, and she could feel the tears streaming down before he'd even started. She'd felt the paddle before, and wished she could somehow launch it into the sun. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, clutching his leg for dear life.
"I'm glad to hear it," he said, raising the paddle. "But not as sorry as you're about to be." And the paddle whistled towards its target.
As the hard wood slammed into her poor, soft, unprotected posterior, covering both cheeks at once, Christina howled. Somehow, it was even worse than she remembered! She began to buck and bounce to the tune of the paddle, yelping pitifully.
The paddle continued to slam down on her bare bottom, and she squirmed and kicked so much that Mister Fenwick had to place his left hand on her back to hold her in place. Every stroke burned like fire, and he swung it hard and fast. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to her! She glanced up at her mother, hoping she would save her, but Brenda seemed to find the whole thing amusing.
It took only a few minutes before she was whimpering limply over his lap, too tired to struggle or even plead for mercy.
Finally, after an eternity of pain, he put the paddle down. He helped Christina up, kissing her forehead and whispering softly to her as she sat gingerly on his lap and cried into his shoulder.
When she finally calmed down, she picked up the jeans and panties that she'd kicked off into a corner, before heading up to her bedroom to cry herself to sleep. "I'll see you after school tomorrow," her neighbour called out as she left, and she sobbed – she'd somehow forgotten that she was only one-seventh of the way through her punishment. The spanking tomorrow, on an already-sore bottom, would be absolute torture. And the one after that? She'd never do anything so stupid again!
As they watched the crimson-bottomed teenager head upstairs, Brenda glanced over at Sheldon. "I don't think she'll be doing that again."
"Me neither, but you never know." He took a sip of his tea. "Did she forge my signature on the letters or something?"
Brenda shrugged. "I don't know – I never bother reading them."
"You never read them?" He frowned. "Then how would you know what's happened?"
"Oh, I leave that in your hands. Punishment's your department. How you punish her is up to you."
He gave her a concerned look. "You take no interest at all? And how are we going to make sure she doesn't do this again?" He thought about it. "I could phone you and tell you –"
"No thanks," she said. "I don't wish to be bothered with this."
"Oh." He thought again. "Well, if you brought her over to my house instead of sending her over, we could make sure –"
"Oh, please." She waved the thought away. "I have better things to do with my time than escort my daughter over to the neighbour's house. She's old enough to go on her own."
"Well, she didn't do that, did she?" he pointed out. "She hid in the garden. I guess I could just send you a text message letting you know that the punishment –"
"I told you," she snapped, "Punishment is YOUR department. You decide what's appropriate, and you leave me out of it. Just because you messed up –"
He frowned. "Messed up? How exactly did I mess up?"
"Well, I sent her over so you could punish her… and you didn't." She shrugged. "Case closed."
He leaned forward, his eyes suddenly stern. "She WOULD have been punished if you so much as glanced at the letters I sent back with her. That's how we made sure justice was served. I have to say, you're not taking any responsibility here, and you're being needlessly and unjustifiably rude to someone who's helping you raise your daughter." He scowled. "I'm starting to wonder if your daughter isn't the only woman in this house that lacks discipline."
"How dare you!" Blushing, Brenda leaned forward and slapped him across the face. It was only when she saw the look he gave her that she realized what a mistake she'd made.
A few seconds later, she found herself across her neighbour's lap, with her skirt raised and her panties around her knees. "Sheldon! This isn't funny! Let me up at – Ow! That hurt," she whined.
"It's supposed to hurt," he scolded, continuing to spank her. "You take no interest in your daughter's behaviour, refuse to take responsibility, blame me for your mistakes, and then SLAP me!" A series of hard spanks to her sit spots made her howl. "You deserve every smack!"
"Let me up! Ouch! You can't do this! Ow! Stop it!"
"I'll stop when you've learned your lesson, young lady – not before." His hand continued to slam against her ample posterior. To her horror, she could feel tears at the edges of her eyes.
"Ow! Please, can't we do this at your house instead? Christina might hear us! Ouch! Not so hard!"
He chuckled – she'd stopped telling him he couldn't do it, and instead started negotiating about where and how hard. Reality was finally settling in. "If she does, maybe that will convince your daughter that a bad girl is never too old for a good spanking, no matter her age," he scolded as he continued to paint her backside red.
By the time she was finally allowed to rise, falling into his embrace so that he could dry her tears, Brenda was apologizing sincerely for her behaviour, and promising to pay more attention to her daughter and her needs. Sheldon grinned to himself with the satisfaction of a job well done.
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