Atonement

Five loops of thick twine wrapped around her ankles to bind them snugly together.   He formed a loop from the end piece and tied it fast to the rear cross spindle of the high occasional table.   She would not be able to kick in an unseemly manner.

Her clothes were folded and piled neatly on the plush sofa situated against the den wall.   By their side lay a long wooden cane.

She nodded towards it.   “Are you going to hit me with that?”

He paused in his task of securing her feet to the make-shift spanking bench and stood up to look down at her.

“Are you questioning my right to discipline you?”   His tone was almost one of shocked disbelief.

“No.   Of course not.   I just ,,,   It was …”

“It was what?”

“It was just that last time it was very light.”

“Hah! If it had had been hard, it would have really hurt.   No – really hurt.”

“Isn’t it supposed to?”

“For someone about to get a good hiding, you seem to be pushing your luck.”

“Only it wasn’t a good hiding.   Last time, I mean.    I got undressed and you tied me down and then I got some taps.  Taps! I wouldn’t have minded, but you’ve not forgiven me, and you certainly haven’t forgotten what I did.   Where’s the closure in that?   Where?”

“You are being a very foolish young lady.”   He strode over to the door, opened it and called down the hall.    “Margaret – If you have a minute, please come here.”

A few moments passed during which they avoided having to say anything to each other.

“Good God, Arthur.   What on earth …?”

“She is to be disciplined."  He waved aimlessly in the direction of the thin young girl bound tautly in preparation for her beating.   "I’m not used to any of this, you know.  It's all completely new to me."

“Naked and tied down?    Really?”

“I had to go on-line to find out what I was supposed to do in a situation like this.   And virtually all the sites said that this was the very best way to deal with a young woman who has earned a session of stern discipline….”   He trailed off lamely, completely out of his depth.

“You should have asked me.    Still - what is done is done.   So - do we have a problem?”

“This is not the first time I have been across this table.   A spanking is supposed to be forgive and forget.   Not a few light taps!”   All three contemplated the young lady’s explanation, and speculated on her particular choice of words - she could have made herself clearer.   As it stood, the problem looked as if it were to be very extraordinary.

Margaret wrinkled her brow.   “How do you mean – this is not the first time?”

“No, this is not the first time I have been secured like this.”  She sighed.   “It happened once before.   I had helped myself to some of Arthur’s whiskey.   He wasn't happy.”

“And I would not be, either.   You, Missy, went way too far.”

He nodded.  “I entirely agree.  So I told her she was going to get eighteen strokes:  six for stealing, six for lying and six for under-age drinking.”

“That seems to be about the right number.   So what happened?”

“He got me all prepared, just like this.   And then I thought he was taking very careful aim, placing the cane against my bottom over and over, as if making sure the first one would land on the exact right spot.   But then he went and told me he had finished!”

“I didn’t want to be too severe on her.”

“Ye gods.    You tied her down and then patted her?   Just pats?”    She turned her attention once more to the bound and naked young woman.    “You got off light, and instead of thanking your lucky stars, you tell us that it was not hard enough.   Do you enjoy pain or something?”

“Goodness gracious no.    I hate it.   But when I was littler, when I got spanked, the pain paid off whatever it was I had done wrong and it was all over.    This time, almost every day, I am reminded over and over that I am not to be trusted.   Where the hell is the forgive and forget in that!?”

“Yes.   There is that…”   She turned to Arthur.   “So what did she do this time to be turned over again?”

“I told her to put out the trash cans before the carts came around.   She did not do it.    She has earned herself a quick four as a suitably sharp reminder.”

“Last Tuesday you mean?”

He nodded.   She wrinkled her nose.    “That was not exactly, entirely her fault.    Why did you not tell him that it wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t want to get you involved.   And I’m no coward – I can take four licks of the best any day of the week!”

Margaret drew herself up to her full height, jutted out her chin and spoke with the decisiveness of one used to making decisions.

“Arthur – the way I see it is that we have to solve two problems.  First, your first caning was totally ineffective, and the secondly the latest caning is not justified.    So I will fix all of it for all of us.   You go downstairs and have yourself a small drink.   I shall deal with this young minx properly.    And afterwards you will forgive and you will forget, won’t you?”

“Of course, Margaret, of course.   I hope you are satisfied now, miss!”

"Good.   Now shoo.   We ladies have come some business to attend to."

He quietly left, pulling the door closed behind with the gentlest of clicks.   Margaret picked up the cane.

“Are you a yeller?”

“Yellow?   No, I told you I can take four of the best, four of the very best, any day of the week.”

“Not yellow meaning one who is a coward, but yeller meaning one who roars when the going gets tough.   And it isn’t four you are going to take, it’s the eighteen you didn't yet got.    If I remember right – three sets of six.”

“Oh crikey.”

“We’d better be safe than sorry.   Wait here.”

“What a stupid thing to…”   But whatever it was that was a stupid thing was left unsaid.   For a few moments she was on her own.    She tested her wrists – she wasn’t going to escape from those bonds.   A few tugs with her legs confirmed the same was true of her ankles.    She would simply have to endure whatever strength lay in Margaret’s arm.   Not a particularly formidable arm, mind you – but you did not need a formidable arm to inflict quite a savage sting with a cane as long and whippy as that one.   Oh Lordy, what had she let herself in for?

Margaret returned to her, knelt by her side, and used her left hand to coax the penitent’s mouth open so she could insert a folded piece of leather over the top of her tongue.

“Ga-gur-gur-gorra?”

She secured the soft leather padding in place with a length of thick twine fastened at the back of her head just underneath the stem of her pony-tail.

“This has several purposes.    It’ll stop you yelling, it’ll stop you biting your tongue and it’ll keep your airways open.”

“Gur-ga-gor-gar-a-gar-irgle-gow”

“I don’t care if you want one or not.    I'm not going to have you yelling in an unladylike manner.   You might disturb the neighbors, and think where that might lead to…”

”Go-go-gay”

“Right.”   She picked up the cane and gave it a couple of satisfactory test swishes through the air.   She noticed that a nearby bare pair of pale pink buttocks tightened involuntarily in time to its rhythm.   So it was true – she really did not enjoy pain all that much.   Well, that would just have to be her misfortune.

“Three sets of six, eh?   Now that really is a bit inconvenient.    Sets of twelve are better – far better – you get to cover more of the bottom with each set, you see.”

“Go-go-gar-gee-gee-go-gay”

“I wasn’t suggesting you should get three sets of twelve.   If you had really deserved thirty six, a birch would have been more appropriate than a cane.    But two sets of twelve make far more sense than three sets of six.   Far more.”

“Gar-Gor-Gair.   Gar-goo-gair-ee.”

“Yes, it would be too many.    I suppose two sets of nine will have to do.   This time.   If there should be a next time, I would be obliged if I was to be a party to any discussion before some random number is dreamed up.”

“Go-Gay.”

“Good.    Prepare yourself.    This is going to sting way, way more than you can imagine.”

The first blow landed, after a crisp swish, with a meaty thud somewhere slightly higher than the center of her bottom.

“Go-go.   Gar-gur!”

“Of course it hurts.   That one was way more than a little tap.   It’s just like you asked for.”

Before a reply could be made the second landed, half an inch below the first.   And then in steady succession, the remaining seven of the first set.    Nine parallel crimson lines now lay across the two pale cheeks - which were now slowly taking on a more reddish hue.   They jiggled and writhed as if they had a life of their own.   Any one of those crimson marks spelled out a line of pain close to agony.  Nine of them?  That was almost too much to bear.   Almost - for someone who could flee and hide behind a locked bedroom door for a day or to.   But if you could not cut and run, then enduring the ordeal was the only option.   But a yell of pain might be in order.

“Garroo-gi-gree!!!”

“There – there, dear.   Half way through.   Soon be over.”    She picked up a water bottle and took a deep swig.

“Gee-ge-go-ga-ge-gi-goer-gi.”

“Patience.    I’ll soon get it all over and done for you.”    She smiled.   “But you might dislike the second set even more than the first one.’

She was right.   Each of the next nine landed on top of its previously delivered partner – doubling the shade of redness and the yelp factor of each line.   Both she and Margaret knew that it was only the gag that stopped the house, and much of the neighboring street, from being filled with the shrieks and yells of someone who had really and truly repented.

“There, all done.”

“Ga-ga-ga?”

“Sure.”   She unfastened the knot in the twine at the back of her head, and took the gag out of her mouth.

“I didn’t like that gag.   It was dreadful!  And my bottom.   God, how it hurts!   I can’t believe how much it stings!”

“But the gag did its job.   And with those fine stripes on show, now we’ve got another little job to get done.”   She walked over to the door and opened it.   “Arthur.   Up here, now, please.”

He arrived a few seconds later, cheeks aglow from the effects from gulping down a single malt too quickly.

“Oh, I say, Margaret – look at the state of her, of her ... - that was a bit strong, wasn’t it?”

“No more than she asked for.   And no less than you should have administered.  Is it enough for you to forgive and forget?”

“But of course!” 

 “Then we’ve reached atonement.   However, since you’ve no stomach for this sort of thing, from now on please leave it me.    You’ll tell me her offense; I’ll set the level of correction accordingly.   And there‘ll be no arguments about it.”

“That seems fairly fair.”

“Also, you’ll have to inspect her afterwards, should there ever be an afterwards, to ensure that the punishment was sufficient for you to be able to forgive and forget.”

“Ah.   Right.   If you say so.    Right.”

“Now off with you, and back to your scotch.   I’ll untie her.”

“Yes.   Of course.”   He wandered away as if in some sort of dazed shock at these latest developments.

Margaret knelt down to start releasing her wrists.

“Thank you for not telling Arthur why I stopped you taking out the trash cans.”

“That’s OK.   No problem.”

“I’ll try to factor that in in future, should there be a future that needs some factoring – if you get my drift.”

She nodded as she stood up and started absentmindedly kneading her bottom..

“But a fair warning.   You help yourself to any more alcoholic drinks between now and being of age, and it’ll be three sets of twelve, with all that that means.”

“Yes.   How about Christmas Eve wine?”  She winced as she pulled her panties over a well-punished backside..

“Yes, that’ll be OK, for there’s an exception to every rule.   Just don’t go trying to find if there are any other exceptions.”

“No Margaret, I shan’t do that.”   She buttoned up her blouse.

“Good girl.”