Stormy Night Publications Publishers of BDSM and Kink Erotica
Judged and Punished
“Hold up there a minute, judge,” Sheriff James Campbell called across the crowded foyer. “Could I have a word?”
Judge Charles Weaver looked round, the pile of papers in the crook of his left arm precariously balanced. “Jim! What can I do for you?”
“I need a word, judge. Like now!”
“Come on through to my chambers, Jim. I have a short recess before I’m due back in court.”
“Thanks.”
“Take the weight off your feet, Jim.” Charles Weaver managed to steer the pile of papers safely onto the already crowded top of his desk. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
The judge poured two cups of hot coffee and set one down in front of the sheriff and the other in front of himself as he sat down. Both men were over six feet, the sheriff possibly an inch taller and fifty pounds heavier.
“So, what can I do for you, Jim?”
The sheriff looked around at the closed door behind them, an act that intrigued Judge Weaver.
“Judge. I don’t know how to put this quite, but…”
“It’s okay, Jim. This is behind closed doors.”
“Well, you ain’t going to like this much, judge, but we picked up your Aimee last night out at Hogan’s Bluff.”
“Hogan’s Bluff? Hell, Jim, she didn’t ought to be out there. She’s only eighteen. Darn near three years to go before she’ll be old enough to be buying alcohol in a joint like that.”
“The thing is, judge, not only had she had alcohol, she’d had way too much alcohol. And she was intending to drive herself and three of her friends home.”
Charles Weaver closed his eyes. His youngest daughter, Aimee, was a bubbly blonde, straight-A student, popular with her friends at Duncannon High, cheerleader, she had everything going for her. Why, oh why, did she get herself into messes like this?
“She wasn’t up when I left this morning, Jim. What happened?”
“Oh, we got them all home safe, including Aimee. Hank Morrison drove her car home for her too.”
“I thought it looked better parked than Aimee usually seems to manage. Thanks for that, Jim.”
“My pleasure.”
“So, what happens now? What has Aimee been charged with exactly?”
“Nothing yet, judge.”
“Nothing?” Judge Weaver appeared mystified. “Why? It seems a pretty clear-cut case to me, Jim.”
Sheriff Campbell ran his fingers over his shaven chin. “Well, neither Aimee nor any of her three friends has ever been in any sort of trouble before, judge, so I’m doing what I’d normally do in these circumstances and having a word with each of their parents.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then if the parents can assure me they have the matter in hand, well, I’m happy to leave the disciplining of their children to them.”
Judge Weaver looked carefully at the sheriff. “Jim, you really can’t be seen to be doing me any favours, just because I’m a judge.”
“And I’m not, judge.” The sheriff was quite animated in his response. “No, sir! I’m doing exactly the same for all the parents, and it’s no different from what I did when Billy Joe Hanson and Clint Petersen turned that old pickup over a few months ago, out on the Sedania Road.”
“Right. So, you’re saying that, so long as I give my Aimee a good talking to, she’s in the clear as far as any legal consequences go. Is that right?”
Sheriff Campbell leaned back in his chair. “Well, if you really think that’s sufficient, judge, then I guess I’ll just have to accept your assessment of the situation, won’t I?”
“Meaning, you were thinking of something more?”
“Aw, judge! It ain’t for me to tell folks how to raise their kids!”
“But, if I were to ask you nicely, perhaps you could offer a little friendly advice?” The judge smiled as he raised an enquiring eyebrow.
The sheriff chuckled, not at all concerned at having his plan interpreted so easily. “I kinda like to keep things fair, judge. If a few kids all do much the same kind of wrongdoing, then maybe they ought to get the same kind of retribution.”
“I think I get your drift, Jim.”
The remainder of the day was a busy one for Charles Weaver, and professional matters kept him from dwelling very long on how he was going to tackle Aimee about the previous evening’s events. When he got home at ten past six, his wife, Joanne, and Aimee’s older sister, twenty-five-year-old Helen, were not yet home.
“Aimee. Could I have a word?” Charles Weaver tapped gently on his younger daughter’s room.
“Okay, dad. Come on in.”
The subdued voice from within left Charles in no doubt his visit was not unexpected, and not especially looked forward to. When the judge opened the door and went in, he found his daughter sitting at her small desk, hand on chin, looking pretty dejected.
“I guess you know what this is all about?”
Aimee nodded gently.
“You got anything to say, honey?”
“Sorry, daddy.”
“Oh, Aimee!” The judge sat down on the edge of Aimee’s bed. “What were you thinking of?”
Aimee shrugged. “I guess it didn’t seem much of a big deal at the start. Then we got given a few drinks and, well, things kind of went downhill from there.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Am I in big trouble?”
“Pretty big, I guess.”
“Is Sheriff Campbell going to press charges?”
Charles Weaver smiled ruefully. “Our friendly neighbourhood sheriff has a way round that. That’s if we both want to go that way.”
Aimee frowned. “A way round it? Well, that’s got to be good, hasn’t it?”
“You might not think so when you hear the plan, honey.”
“Tell me.” Aimee bit her lip; this was not going to be good news.
“He wants me to paddle your butt, honey.”
“Spank me? You’ve never spanked me!”
“I know, honey, but I guess Sheriff Campbell never even considered that as a possibility.”
Aimee gave a large single nod of her head, then froze as she took in the reality of the situation. “So… What are you going to do?” she asked nervously.
“What would you want me to do, honey?”
The blond girl took a deep breath and puffed her cheeks out. “Guess he wouldn’t reckon much on me being grounded for a couple of weeks, huh?”
“To be honest, I don’t think Sheriff Campbell would be impressed if you were grounded for a couple of years, honey.”
“Likewise if you confiscated my car for a couple of weeks, huh?”
Charles Weaver gave his daughter a look that said it all.
“I guess not.” Aimee said it for him. “Anyway, I need my car.”
Charles let Aimee have a few moments to consider.
“You don’t actually have a paddle, daddy,” Aimee reminded him.
“There’s a couple of hours before dinner and some spare wood in the workshop, down in the basement. Do you want me to get to work?”
Aimee thought long and hard, then nodded slowly.
“Okay, honey.” Judge Weaver got up and left the room.
Down in the basement workshop, Charles soon found a piece of maple wood from the front of an old chest they’d had many years ago when he and Joanne had first set up home together. It was about the right thickness at half an inch and he soon set to marking the project out. He was just about finished with the marking out when he heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Aimee?”
“Daddy.” Aimee came over to her father and looked down at the slab of maple.
“I’m just about to cut it down on the bandsaw,” Charles explained.
“Right.” Aimee followed him over to the machine and waited while he donned some safety spectacles.
“Better stand back, honey.”
It took just a few minutes to cut the old chest front down to a board about twenty-two inches long and four inches wide, tapering at one end to form a short handle maybe four inches long. The judge held the work-piece out to check for any obvious flaws. “That looks okay, I guess.”
Aimee didn’t speak, but also had a good look at the implement.
“I’ll run a sander round it to smooth over the edges.”
Aimee followed her father over to another machine and he carefully ran the loud powerful sander around both faces to produce edges that were neatly curved.
“A little hand sanding and we should be about there.”
Aimee nodded, then followed her father as he picked up a piece of sandpaper and began finishing off his newly made paddle.
“Are we going to do this now, daddy?”
“I thought later, honey. Perhaps closer to bedtime? Maybe you could come into my study around ten?”
“I was just thinking, if we did it now, we could get it over with before mum and Helen got back?”
“Well, they’re going to be back any minute now, honey.” Charles checked his watch. “And, I was sort of thinking maybe you better get changed into your pyjamas before we do it?”
“Into my pyjamas?” Aimee frowned in surprise. “Why?”
“Because they’re thin, honey. It’ll give you a little less protection, I guess.”
Aimee nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t get to wear a couple of pairs of jeans with some cardboard stuffed down the back, then?” she said as she tried to make a joke out of the matter.
Dinner that evening had a subdued mood to it, with just Joanne and Helen chatting normally. Neither, though, seemed to sense anything untoward with Aimee or Charles. It was only after dinner was finished and most of the dishes were cleared away that Charles decided he had to speak.
“Joanne, Helen, you’re both going to have to know about this.” Charles looked briefly at Aimee who had been about to protest, but then kept quiet, perhaps realising the sense of her father’s words.
“What’s wrong?” Charles’s wife looked anxious, while Aimee’s older sister looked first towards her father and then towards Aimee as she sensed something was not right between them.
“Cutting a long story short, Aimee here has gotten herself into a spot of trouble with Sheriff Campbell. Someone bought her a few drinks over at Hogan’s Bluff and he and a deputy had to bring her and her friends home.”
“Aimee! What were you thinking of?” Aimee’s mother said, shocked at the news. Even Aimee’s sister gave her a contemptuous look.
“Anyhow, Sheriff Campbell is willing to keep this out of court, for the other girls as well, so long as they’re suitably punished at home.”
“Right.” Joanne Weaver frowned. “So, what does that mean exactly?”
Aimee looked at Helen out of the corner of her eye, and saw her sister taking a great interest in how this conversation was panning out.
“Well, dear, Aimee and I have had a talk and we’ve kind of agreed that Aimee will be paddled.”
“Aimee?” Mrs. Weaver seemed a little doubtful and sought confirmation from her younger daughter.
Aimee simply nodded, and avoided eye contact with her mother.
“We don’t have a paddle,” Helen spoke.
“We do now,” her father answered. “I’ve just been down in the shop making one.”
“Oh, right.” Helen seemed gladdened by the news.
“Well, that’s about it,” Charles Weaver concluded. “Anyhow, I have some papers to work on.”
The judge rose from the table and went off into his study.
“I have some homework to do.” Aimee also made her excuses and quickly left, leaving Helen and her mother to clear the table.
When Aimee reached her room and flung herself face down on her bed, the first thing she did was check the time. It was ten minutes to nine. The second thing she did was call her friend, Jennifer, on her cellphone.
“Jen? Me. Aimee.”
“Hi, Aimee.” The reply was subdued.
“Did, er, anything happen tonight? Like at home, I mean.”
“Do you mean, like, am I sitting here comfortably chatting to you?”
“Er, something like that, yes.”
“Then the answer is no. In fact, I’d prefer not to sit down right now.”
“Right. Understood.”
“How about you, Aimee?”
“I have to pay a visit to my father’s study at ten tonight.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. Have you heard from Sophie or Annie yet?”
“No, not yet. I’m expecting calls anytime soon though.”
“Okay. So what happened?”
“What do you mean what happened?”
“What did you get?”
“I got my butt spanked, Aimee.”
“Spanked? Just spanked?”
“Well, actually, Aimee, I kind of feel that was bad enough, thank you!”
“I meant, did your father use a paddle?”
“No, his hand was quite satisfactory, I found.”
“Did you get to keep your jeans on?”
The cellphone remained silent, so Aimee spoke again. “Jennifer?”
“No.”
“Panties?”
“Yes, of course!” Jennifer answered firmly.
“Just checking.”
“How about you, Aimee? Do you know what you’re getting?”
“I’ve got a fair idea. My father spent some time down in the shop making a paddle, and I have to visit him in his study at ten. In my pyjamas!”
“Nothing underneath, huh?”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I think he’ll be expecting it, Aimee. I don’t see the point otherwise.”
“Oh, gee, thanks!”
“You’re welcome. Look, keep me posted and I’ll do likewise for you. Okay?”
“Okay. Bye.”
Aimee rolled over so she was lying on her back.
After a while, her cellphone rang.
“‘Lo.”
“It’s Jennifer.”
“Hi, Jen. What news?”
“Sophie phoned me. She’s been done. By her mother, would you believe?”
“What did she get?”
“A spanking! Over her mother’s knee! Can you believe that? At her age? And you’ll never guess what else.”
“What?”
“Her mother pulled her panties down! How about that?”
“Poor Sophie.” Aimee found it impossible to share the other girl’s elation.
“Can you imagine that, Aimee? Fancy being spanked on your bare butt at age eighteen!”
“Did her mother use a paddle or anything?”
“No, just her hand. Sounds like Sophie was across her mother’s knee for a good long time though. She says her butt is pretty sore.”
“Right.”
“Hey, Aimee. You’re sure your father is going to paddle you, are you? Not your mother?”
“I guess so. I’ve got to go down to his study. Guess I’ll find out when I get there.”
“That’s right. You said. In your pyjamas?”
“Yes. Have you heard from Annie yet?”
“No. Still waiting. You haven’t heard, have you?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Okay, keep me posted. Bye.”
Aimee lay back and waited, expecting news of Annie’s punishment would reach her before the time came for her to take that difficult walk downstairs. At ten minutes before ten, she still hadn’t heard.
By seven minutes before ten, Aimee realised she was still wearing her jeans and red sweatshirt. Swinging herself up and off her bed, she swiftly peeled off the sweatshirt, kicked off her shoes, and unfastened the fly of her jeans. After kicking the jeans off her feet, Aimee stood in brief white panties and bra and opened the second bottom drawer of an oak chest. After a little rummaging, she extracted a set of silky lemon yellow pyjamas.
It took just moments to slip on the yellow jacket and fasten the four buttons. She picked up the matching pants, but doubt entered her mind. The clock was now reading just two minutes before ten and a decision had to be made quickly. She dropped the pyjama pants and quickly slipped the white panties down her shapely legs.
Sixty seconds later, Aimee headed for the door dressed in her lemon yellow pyjamas and padding in bare feet on the thick carpet. The well-sanded wood stairs felt a little cold, but that was nothing compared to the humiliation of having to pass by her mother and older sister, both sitting silently in armchairs, as she passed through the lounge on her way to her father’s study. No one spoke.
A woman’s handbag sat on a third armchair, a bag that Aimee didn’t immediately recognise, but she gave little thought to it. More important was getting by her mother and sister with as much dignity as was possible.
Reaching the door to her father’s study, Aimee hesitated and paused. Was that a voice she heard? Perhaps her father was speaking on the telephone and she ought to wait until it was quiet. After a few moments the conversation appeared to have ended. She tapped the door twice and opened it.
Closing the door quickly behind her, shutting out the view her mother and Helen would have had of her, Aimee found her father sitting behind his desk with the recently made paddle resting on top. Only then did Aimee discover her father was not alone.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Aimee,” her father said.
Aimee looked around. Against the left wall sat Mrs. Rodriguez with Aimee’s friend from the previous evening, Annie, standing next to her.
“Annie?”
“Hi, Aimee,” the dark-haired girl answered, an awkward look on her face.
“Daddy? What’s going on?”
“Aimee, Mrs. Rodriguez telephoned me a short while ago. As you know, Mr. Rodriguez isn’t around anymore and, well, Mrs. Rodriguez felt a little uneasy dealing with her daughter in the manner Sheriff Campbell requested.”
“Right,” Aimee responded, not too happy at where she thought this conversation might be heading. “So?”
“So she’s asked me to handle it for her.”
“Right.” Aimee frowned as she considered the implications.
“Now Aimee, I know you thought this was going to be a private matter between the two of us, and if you still want it that way, then we’ll do it that way.”
“Okay.” Aimee sounded unsure.
“But, since you’re both being dealt with for much the same offence, Mrs. Rodriguez thought perhaps you and Annie might like to be punished together. As I say though, if you prefer, they’ll go back out into the lounge for a few minutes while I deal with you. It’s your choice.”
Aimee thought quickly. From paddlings she’d overheard at school, Aimee knew Annie and Mrs. Rodriguez would still hear just about every moment of her own punishment, so there wouldn’t be much concealed from them other than actually witnessing the event.
“Has anyone asked Annie what she thinks?” Aimee looked briefly at her father, then turned to her friend standing silently by the side of her seated mother.
“Oh, I guess we could get it together,” Annie answered. “If that’s okay.” She looked from Aimee to Judge Weaver and back to Aimee again.
“Honey?” Aimee’s father looked to his daughter for the final say on the matter.
“Okay,” Aimee conceded with a nagging feeling she had been unfairly pressurised.
“Thanks, honey.” Judge Weaver seemed genuinely grateful for Aimee’s concession. “Now we got another couple of problems to sort out.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, my view of things is that you ought to carry the greater responsibility because you were the driver last night, so you are guilty of both consuming alcohol underage and of at least thinking about driving home in that state.”
“I wasn’t drunk, daddy.”
“That’s not what Sheriff Campbell said. He said you all had too much to drink.”
Aimee didn’t answer.
“Anyhow, after talking things over with Mrs. Rodriguez, we’ve agreed that you should take nine swats with the paddle and Annie should take six.”
“Nine?” Aimee exclaimed, then added more thoughtfully, “That seems a lot.”
“It’s intended to reflect the seriousness of the situation that could have arisen but for Sheriff Campbell’s intervention, and your greater responsibility compared to Annie,” her father replied.
“Sure. Yes, okay,” Aimee answered, still thinking. She didn’t particularly care what punishment her friend got, at that moment; she was more concerned with her own paddling.
“So that’s agreed then?” Judge Weaver spoke after allowing his daughter the opportunity to protest, and receiving no such objection.
“You said there were a couple of things, daddy?”
“Yes, honey. The other matter we have to consider is that you are taking your paddling over the seat of thin pyjama pants. Are you wearing underwear below those pants?”
“No, daddy.” Aimee blushed.
“Well, as you can see, Annie is wearing jeans and that sort of gives her an advantage over you. So to be fair, Mrs. Rodriguez has said that she will either ask Annie to take her jeans down for the paddling or Annie will take an extra two swats to compensate.”
“Okay.” Aimee said, more with a mind towards her forthcoming punishment than any real concern about Annie’s state of dress.
“Annie was just about to let us know her decision when you arrived, Aimee,” Mrs. Rodriguez added.
Aimee looked across at her friend. Annie seemed intent on avoiding eye contact, though, and Aimee couldn’t read any clue as to how she would respond.
“It’s no big deal,” Annie finally spoke. “I guess I’ll take my jeans down.”
“Okay.” Judge Weaver stood up and took hold of the paddle. “Let’s get to it.”
Aimee’s heart starting beating faster and she looked to see whether Annie was stepping forward. She wasn’t.
“Aimee, you come on round to the end of the desk here, please, honey.”
The blond girl’s mouth sagged open. She wanted to speak but nothing useful came to mind. The only thing required of her now was to place her backside in the firing line of that hard-looking paddle.
“Okay,” Aimee said needlessly, and flitted around to the end of the desk where her father awaited her. “How do you want me?”
“I guess, bend over and rest yourself on your elbows, honey?”
Aimee leaned forward and got down low on the desk, supporting her upper body on her elbows as her father had suggested, and making sure her stomach wasn’t pressed too tightly up against the edge of the desk. Almost immediately, she felt the full flat of the paddle pressing against the very thin material of her pyjama pants.
“Hold tight!”
In the moment it took Aimee to close her eyes and brace herself, her father had pulled the paddle back and swung it firmly down until it collided with the seat of her pants with a tremendous bang.
“Yeeow!!”
“You keep still, honey.”
“Okay,” she croaked.
Another loud bang signalled the paddle swiping firmly across Aimee’s thinly clad backside.
“Eeeesh!!”
Aimee wiggled her bottom, attempting to disseminate some of the pain, before something inside told her she ought to hold still and take the next swat. Her father took the hint and as soon as he saw his daughter’s bottom steady, he took another hard swing at it with the maple paddle.
“Uuuuwww!!” Aimee grunted as the loud bang heralded another sharp dose of burning fire across the whole of her bottom.
She swung her hips just twice this time, then held still for the next swat. She wasn’t kept waiting.
“Aaarrgh!!”
As the pain spread across her bottom, Aimee reflected on how the bang of the paddle landing would be heard very easily by her mother and sister in the next room. Oh, how Helen would be loving every moment!
“Aaaaahh!!”
The stroke caught Aimee by surprise and caused her to arch her back as the pain scorched her backside. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“Do you want to take a two-minute break there, honey?” Aimee heard her father asking.
“Yes, please, daddy,” Aimee replied, and eased herself up from the desk. “Am I allowed to rub my bottom, daddy?”
“I guess so, honey. Just a bit anyhow.”
Aimee seized the opportunity before her father could change his mind. As she frantically rubbed her sore bottom through the thin silky material of her pyjama pants, the pain mellowed just a little and she allowed her eyes to stray behind her to where Annie stood. Annie’s attention was focused on Aimee’s ministrations to her backside and their eyes failed to meet. Mrs. Rodriguez sat straight in her chair, hands folded in her lap, patiently waiting for the action to begin again.
“When you’re ready, honey.” Her father’s voice reminded Aimee it was time to get back over the desk.
“Okay.” With her backside smarting the way it was, Aimee found it a struggle to put herself back over the desk and thrust her bottom out for more punishment, but she managed it and braced herself.
“Uuuunnhh!!” Her father was not so reticent when it came to dishing out the spanking, and the paddle banged loudly as it struck Aimee’s pyjama-clad backside.
“Aaaaahh!!” Another stroke thwacked down across her sore bottom and the pain caused Aimee’s eyes to start watering again. She wished she’d taken the opportunity to ask for a tissue to clear her eyes in the short break. Too late for that now.
“Eeeesshh!!” The paddle crashed against Aimee’s thinly covered backside and the burning pain scorched her entire bottom. She resolved then and there never to be tempted into drinking alcohol before she reached full age. This was just too much!
For now, though, Aimee’s mind concentrated on the thought there was just one stroke to go before her ordeal would be over. In order to get it over with as soon as possible, she thrust her backside out to give her father a tempting target.
Judge Weaver needed no second bidding. He swung the paddle down as firmly as his strong arm would allow and the paddle crashed into the thin pyjama material that stretched across Aimee’s bottom.
“Aaaaarrrgghh!!” Aimee arched her back again as the paddle scorched her backside like it was made of red-hot steel. “Yeeeoouch! That stung!”
“Okay, honey. Guess you’re done.”
As Aimee eased herself up from the desk and began massaging her backside back to some sort of health, she saw her father carefully examining the maple paddle.
“That seems to do the job pretty well,” he commented as he admired his handiwork. “What do you think?”
“Oh, it’s… er, it’s fine, daddy,” Aimee spluttered, dumbfounded that her father could ask her to comment on the efficacy of a paddle he’d made with the sole purpose of punishing her. “I’d certainly give you ten out of ten for paddle making!”
Judge Weaver chuckled, and put a hand on his daughter’s head. “Okay, honey. Why don’t you go over and wait with Mrs. Rodriguez?”
Aimee soon went and stood next to her friend, Annie. Aimee feigned an exaggerated look of relief that her ordeal was over and Annie gave a look of intense trepidation that wasn’t at all contrived.
By now, Judge Weaver’s examination of the paddle had run its course and an awkward silence fell on the room. He looked towards Mrs. Rodriguez.
“Right, judge.” Mrs. Rodriguez acknowledged the hint. “Annie. It’s your turn now.”
With a comforting pat on the shoulder from Aimee, Annie hesitantly stepped forward towards the end of the desk and the looming figure of Aimee’s father.
“Don’t forget to slip those jeans down, darling,” Annie’s mother reminded as the slim dark-haired girl hovered, waiting.
Annie blushed. While Judge Weaver looked away, Annie began unfastening the front of her tight-fitting dark blue jeans. When the garment hung loose, Annie hesitated for some long moments and then suddenly thrust the jeans down to her ankles, folded her pale blue sleeveless top above her waist, and dived across the desk. Her slim round bottom was clothed in brief bright red panties that offered protection for most of her bottom, all but the very lowest portions of her buttocks.
“Mrs. Rodriguez. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to perform the honours?” Aimee’s father offered the paddle to Annie’s mother.
Annie immediately looked behind her, clearly hoping her mother would accept.
“No, thank you, judge. You did a fine job with Aimee here. I’m sure you’ll do just as good a job spanking my daughter too.”
Aimee watched as her father drew the paddle back, took aim, and swiped it firmly down across Annie’s pert round bottom.
“Eeek!!” Annie gave a shrill little grunt as she felt the smarting pain.
Within moments, the paddle came back again and the big man hurled it firmly down right across the centre of the small round bottom.
“Oooohh!!” Annie cried.
Aimee could see her father wasn’t holding back just because Annie wasn’t his own daughter, and she reckoned her friend’s thin underwear would offer no more protection than her own pyjama pants.
As the judge pulled the paddle back yet again, Aimee cast a glance towards Mrs. Rodriguez. The lady still sat attentively upright in her chair, concentrating on every moment of her daughter’s spanking. When the paddle crashed loudly across Annie’s backside and the dark-haired girl squealed, her mother showed no emotion.
Annie gasped. The scorching pain was hotter, far more stinging, than she had anticipated and she desperately wanted to rub her bottom to ease the tenderness. For now, though, she could only hold her bottom still and wait for it to be spanked another time.
Judge Weaver didn’t keep her waiting. He swung the paddle down firmly and smacked it against the thin material of Annie’s panties, sending another bout of burning pain across the girl’s backside.
“Eeeech!!” Annie’s shrill voice cried.
“Do you want to take a break there, Annie?” the judge asked.
Annie hesitated.
“No, sir. I think I’d prefer you to continue. If that’s okay?”
“No problem.”
Annie soon felt the paddle touch her gently across the seat of her thin underwear as Judge Weaver sized up the next stroke. Within a moment she lost the strangely reassuring feel of the rigid timber, and in another moment she felt the blistering impact as it re-engaged a whole lot more harshly with her backside.
“Eeeeehh!!” Annie squealed and wriggled her bottom as she dealt with the pain.
Aimee, watching every move carefully, saw her friend hold very still as she awaited the next stroke, wanting to have it delivered without delay, because that would then be the end of her punishment. Aimee recalled the feeling.
Judge Weaver pulled the paddle back, took aim, and moved the weight of his body into the swing as he brought the implement down on Annie’s waiting bottom. It impacted with a loud bang.
“Eeeeesshh!!” Annie’s shrill voice let everyone know she’d really felt that last swat.
“I guess that’s it, Annie,” Judge Weaver announced.
Annie immediately pushed herself up from the desk and rubbed her sore bottom. “Thank you, sir,” she said respectfully, before curtseying down and reaching for her jeans.
Aimee’s father turned ninety degrees to the right while Annie struggled to get the jeans fastened back up again. When she had finished, he turned to Mrs. Rodriguez. “Can I interest you in a cup of coffee, Mrs. Rodriguez? I believe my good lady has some newly baked cookies on offer too.”
“That would be great. Thank you, judge.”
“Do you want to come up to my room, Annie?” Aimee suggested to her friend. “I think we might be getting some calls on our cellphones sometime soon. Is that okay, daddy?”
“Sure, honey.”
With Aimee leading the way, the two girls went hastily back through the lounge past Mrs. Weaver and the gloating face of Aimee’s older sister, up the stairs and into Aimee’s room.
“Close the door, Annie.” Aimee waited until the door was firmly shut before whipping her pyjama pants down. “Hell! That really warmed my butt. How about yours?”
“Sure did.” Annie, though, was concentrating on the red sore backside of her friend. “Looks like you could use some cold cream on that.”
“Good idea.” Aimee opened a drawer in a small cabinet and pulled out a tube. “Oooh! That’s cold!” she cried as she began applying some of the soothing cream. “Want some?”
“Why not.” Annie took the tube and unhitched her jeans.
Aimee’s cellphone rang.
“Hello.”
“Aimee? Jennifer. I have Sophie with me. What news?”
“I have a spectacularly sore butt. Cold cream is starting to work. And you’ll never guess what I’ve got to tell you!”
“What?”
“Hold on, I may not be permitted to talk about it.” Aimee looked at Annie.
“Tell me anyway,” Jennifer demanded. “And we still haven’t heard from Annie. She isn’t responding to her cellphone or her landline.”
“She ain’t home.”
“Where is she? How do you know?”
“Well, when I went down to my father’s study I found he wasn’t exactly alone.”
“Not alone? Why? Who was there?”
“Durr! Think about it, Jennifer!”
“What? No! Tell me all about it!”