Over the knee spanking story
Theodore Spoonbender
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(c) 1998 - 2004 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not
to be read by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are
underage then don't read. Contains allusions to naughty, erotic
goings on. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed,
including this heading. If it is to be archived on a fee paying
archive then please email me first for permission. Note that the
characterizations are mine. I do not like people stealing them for
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"Look Elaine can't we discuss this at home? You know important tonight
is to me."
She tossed her long silken mane and pouted, "Hah! And I'm not I
suppose."
He sighed. "Be reasonable Elaine we've had all week to discuss this,
so why wait until we're going to dinner with the firm's most important
client before bringing it up?"
"Because I wanted to," she sniffed "anyway we hardly ever talk to each
other any more."
"What? Oh come on. We've only just come back off holiday. We spent the
whole week together."
"That was two weeks ago. Since then you've always been busy."
"I told you I would be. I had to put together this proposal. It's a
big deal for the company. It could make or break us."
"You and that firm. That's all you think about."
"We've been through this again and again. Its my livelihood Elaine,
its what pays for the big house and the holidays in the Bahamas. If we
get this job then we'll be able to relax a bit more and I can spend
more time with you. If not," he shrugged, "I might end up spending a
lot more time at home. On a permanent basis."
"So you're blaming me for the loss of the contract already?"
"God you're in a difficult mood tonight. What's gotten into you?"
"See! Its always my fault."
"Oh for heavens sake. I never said that. Look we're here now. Let's
call a truce eh? At least until this meal is over."
"Huh!" she snorted.
They made a handsome couple strolling into the restaurant together,
her hand resting lightly on his arm. Him, tall and patrician, fifty
years old but still lean and firm. Her, tall, curvy and pretty. And at
least 20 years younger.
The customer, a Mr Jemway from Manchester and his rather plump wife,
stood and greeted them as they neared the table.
"Hi Bob. I'd like you to meet my wife Elaine. Elaine, this is Bob and
his wife....er?"
"Anthea. Pleased to meet you my dear."
The handshakes were brief but formal.
"Please take a seat," said Bob as he waved them towards the vacant
chairs.
They were sitting on a small dais overlooking the dance-floor. It was
one of the best tables in town and it had cost him a pretty penny, but
it was worth it to secure this order. They'd worked through the
technical specifications earlier that day and had put together the
final costings. Everything looked like it was in place, but Bob had
suggested that they had a few minor details to clear up before they
finalized the deal.
So this was both business and pleasure.
The meal started off well enough. The Smoked Salmon melted in the
mouth and the Canard au sauce poivre was delicious. It wasn't until
they were onto their final coffees that the problems started.
"Look Len. Let me put this to you straight. I like you and I like the
proposal that you've put together for us. But one thing bothers me."
"What's that Bob?" Instantly alert.
"This is a big job for you. The biggest you've ever had," he waved his
hand. "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't check these things out
now would I? Anyway, I'm a bit concerned that you are over-stretching
yourselves. Are you?"
"That's a fair question Bob," he smiled "let me set your mind at rest.
We've got the financial backing, we've got at least a dozen
contractors on tap ready to join us when the project gets into full
swing and we've got the company infrastructure to back it up. We've
been working towards this size of project for a long time. Its central
to our business model and well within our focus. I know we could do
you proud Bob."
"Well put, but the thing that's bothering me is whether or not you can
control the sub-contractors. I've had dealings with them before, when
the last company had the contract, and they cut up pretty rough. We
ended up going over budget and well over the target launch date."
Before Len could speak Elaine butted in. "If it involves discussing
things with them then I doubt it."
There was a stunned silence.
Bob broke it by asking, "what do you mean?"
"He can't even talk to me....."
"Look Elaine, this is not the..."
"Am I detecting an undercurrent here?" enquired Bob.
"Yes," she jutted her chin, "He's spent so much time on this contract
he hasn't had any time for me. He won't even talk to me."
"That's the way it is with business sometimes Elaine,"
"Well I don't like it," she said petulantly.
"Look Elaine I told you we'd discuss this at home."
"Huh! Like when I next see you, whenever that is."
"Elaine you are showing yourself up. Let us discuss this later ok?"
"Showing myself up! Showing you up you mean."
"Shut up Elaine."
"FUCK YOU!" she screamed, "Don't you tell me what to do!"
The whole restaurant went quiet and stared across at them. She sat
there, highspots of colour on her downy cheeks and her eyes flashing
like beacons. Bob sat looking thoughtful and his wife looked plain
embarrassed.
"Look I think maybe we should discuss this tomorrow," said Bob.
"Yeah that's right. You can sod off too!"
Bob started to push his chair back to stand.
The order was slipping from Len's grasp.
All that work down the drain.
He saw red.
Blind anger, hot and fresh, bubbled up in him. His vision focused down
on her, the blood pounding in his temple as she sat there smirking,
looking pleased with herself. A petulant spoiled brat from a rich
family, a girl who has never wanted for anything. Now the centre of
attention again. Where she felt she belonged by right.
He'd show her what its really like to be the centre of attention.
Len reached over and grabbed her arm forcefully.
"GET OFF, leave me alone!" She screamed.
He ignored her, jerking her out of her chair towards him.
She started to beat his chest with her free hand while she screamed
invective at him. He was oblivious to everything. His customer, the
clientele in the restaurant, the staff, everything. He pulled her face
down across his knee.
By now her legs were pistoning wildly but were constrained by the
fullness of her long dress. He'd soon remedy that. He pulled up her
skirt over her flailing legs.
"Let go of me. What are you doing. Let go. Let me go!"
She wasn't wearing any hose so the flesh of her finely tuned thighs
was exposed to the whole restaurant, who watched the action unfold
with bated breath. Everyone could now see her pumping legs clearly and
her gleaming white satin panties which were molded to her delicious
behind like they had been sprayed on.
"You can't do this," she cried as she tried to push her dress down
with her free hand.
"I can and I will," He muttered." You've been asking for this for a
very long time."
With that he grabbed the waistband of her panties and ripped them
bodily from her.
"Rape! Rape!" She screamed, but no-one bothered to intervene on her
behalf.
With one hand he held her arm behind her back and the other he lifted
high.
CRACK!
His hand splatted full across her asscheeks, sinking into the
compliant flesh briefly before springing back.
"YOW...OW...OW!" She screamed.
CRACK!
Another full blooded cut and another hand-shaped crimson streak across
her alabaster buns.
"You're hurting me!"
"That's the general idea," he muttered grimly as he lifted his arm
again. High above his head.
CRACK!
CRACK!
CRACK!
The strokes were remorseless and without mercy. Hard, fast and furious
as they transformed her bottom from a delicate pink, through firemen
red through to a deep crimson.
And still she kicked and screamed.
And still he smacked.
Until at last she slumped across his knees. All the fight had left
her. It was pointless to carry on. She had learned her lesson.
And learned it well.
He let go of her and she tumbled to the floor, both of her hands
trying desperately to soothe her blistered cheeks. Her dress was still
twisted around her waist and all thoughts of modesty had fled from her
as she tried to come to terms with her throbbing rear.
He reached down tenderly and pulled her up until she was standing
before him.
"Are you sorry?" He asked mildly.
She nodded, her face turned modestly towards the floor, hands still
clutching her rear beneath her dress.
"Let me hear you say it."
She looked up, tears streaming from her eyes. "I'm sorry Len. I'm
sorry Bob. Sorry Anthea," she hiccuped.
"Good girl," he said. "Right! I suggest you go and get freshened up."
"Thank you Len," she gulped then hurried away.
As she crossed the dancefloor the other diners stood and clapped her,
causing her cheeks to burn brighter than her toasted butt.
Len took a deep swig of his wine. The contract was blown, but what the
hell. At least he had had some satisfaction out of it. He looked
across at Bob.
Who was smiling broadly.
"Now THAT is the sort of affirmative action I like to see," he
chuckled.
Rather taken aback Len glanced over at Anthea expecting her
approbation but was instead greeted with a warm smile.
"You look surprised Len," she smiled.
"I am rather."
"Well don't be. I remember a scene a few years ago, in a shopping mall
if I recall...." Then it was her turn to blush as Bob winked
conspiratorially.
"Listen Len. I think you have settled the last of my objections and
I'm pleased to tell you that I will recommend you for the job when we
have our board meeting next week."
"Thanks Bob. I'm sure it'll be a great partnership."
"I do too," He said.
They were still shaking hands as a shame faced and thoroughly
chastised young woman made her way gingerly back to the table.
"Do you mind if I don't sit down?" she winced.
"Not at all," smiled Bob. "Listen why don't you two go home. I'll
settle the bill."
Both Bob and Anthea smiled as the couple left the restaurant arm in
arm.
They never even made it out of the parking lot.
Anthea clung to Bob's arm as they surveyed the steamed up windows and
the bouncing springs on the far side of the lot.
"It takes you back doesn't it?" Laughed Bob.
"It certainly does," she replied with a mock wince.
They both laughed and strolled across to their car.
*******************************************************************************
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"Oh, p-please, mister mad scientist sir, there's been a terrible mistake,"
said the redhead strapped to the operating table in the underground laboratory.
"I applied for that secretarial job under false pretenses! I'm really not who
I said I was in the job interview! I've never really been a secretary, I'm a
free lance photographer who was just looking for a story on you to sell to the
newspapers! I'm totally unqualified for this position!"
"That is a matter of no consequence, my dear," smiled Dr. Vlad Lugosi, "for
I merely hired you to become my test subject in my experiment to perform the
first transplant of a woman's brain into the body of a gorilla. So far I have
only been able to implant gorilla hormones into my bodyguard Igor to give him
his superhuman strength but tonight I shall make my final supreme scientific
breakthrough and win the Nobel Prize so long denied me!"
CRASH! The aforementioned Igor came flying into the room through the lab's
splintered door to land unconscious on the floor.
"Sorry to barge in unannounced, Doctor, but that redhead in the miniskirt on
your operating table is wanted by the fashion police for numerous violations
of good taste,"smiled a tall blond woman in blue spandex leotards stepping
through the door, "and it would be cruelty to animals to allow you to continue
this brain transplant on a poor innocent gorilla. Oh, and I believe all these
police officers I brought with me would like you to go with them to explain
your scientific research to the psychiatrist down at the police station."
"Lucy! Boy, am I glad you showed up!" the redhead grinned. "Untie me so I
can get some pictures! I knew you'd find me! What a team we make, huh?"
"We are NOT a team," the blond scowled at the redhead." You're my husband,
not my teenage boy wonder sidekick, Ricky! However, you're right. We should get
some press photos to preserve this moment for posterity. Officer, tell them its
safe to send in the reporters now."
"Hey! Come on, Lucy! I wanted to get an exclusive on this!" grumbled Ricky
sitting up after Lucy undid the straps holding him to the table. The room
was
suddenly flooded with reporters and flashing cameras. "Fine thanks I get for
helping you solve the case!"
"Gentlemen, I believe you've all met my husband, Ricky Lane, the 5'6 master
of disguise, amateur detective, and notorious transvestite" grinned the 6'2
Lucy Lane with her arm around her freckled spouse. "As you know, Ricky is
a very dedicated and persistent journalist himself who stalked me for month
s
to get those nude photos of me to sell to the tabloids before we started
dating
and got married. He such dedicated journalist his first thought on
being saved
from almost certain death tonight at the hands a psychopath I
told him to stay away from was the need for photographs for the newspapers,
so I'm now going to
give him his wish."
Suddenly Ricky found himself pinned across Lucy's lap with his pastel
green miniskirt flipped up kicking and screaming in helpless protest as her
strong right hand began spanking the seat of his white panties with cameras
flashing recording every minute for the whole world to see in tomorrow's
papers. "OUCH! Quit it! OW! That hurt! OWWWAAAAGH!"
"Don't you ever do any hair-brained stunt like this again!" Lucy growled.
"You want to be the center of attention, I'm happy to oblige. Here's undivided
attention from me, young man...right where you need it the most!"
"Just march strait to the bedroom, get out of that ridiculous outfit, and
get washed up for bed, little boy," ordered Lucy giving the seat of Ricky's
mini-skirt a final slap as they walked in through the door to Lucy's penthouse.
"Ouch! Cut it out, okay...I said I was sorry," Ricky pouted rubbing his
backside. "That was the most humiliating experience of my life. I should have
had one of those cops arrest you for spouse abuse."
"Oh, stop being a melodramatic crybaby about it, Ricky. Everybody else there
thought it was funny and besides, what I did was perfectly legal without the
least risk to your health... unlike having your brain transplanted into a
gorilla. One of Marcia Monroe's ex-husbands gave her the same treatment once
and he was a 9th Circuit Court Judge."
"Mrs. Lane...Ricky dear, what happened? I had no idea where you were all
night when you didn't show up for supper," said their gray haired round faced
4'6 housekeeper coming in from the kitchen.
"This big bully spanked me, Aunt Minerva, that's what happened."
"Oh you poor dear! Mrs. Lane, how could you?"
"I just put him across my knee, flipped up his skirt, and spanked him,"
smiled Lucy. "It wasn't even as difficult as the spanking I gave him when he
sold those nude photos of me to the tabloids before we started dating.
Mini-skirts make it much more easy to warm somebody's underpants than a pair
of tight blue jeans. Of course it's understandable you never spanked him when
he was growing up with you, Minerva, but I'm considerably taller than he is
so it was really no problem for me at all. I don't even have any illegal
activities to worry about him exposing like you did."
"I'll have you know, I did not engage in any illegal activities after Ricky
came to stay with me, Mrs. Lane. My time in prison had already been served
and I had no wish to risk going back there by returning to my criminal career.
My cell mate Selena used to spank me all the time there. A woman my size comes
to expect that sort of bullying from the crude and vulgar."
"Well, my mother who was an Ivy League biochemist used to spank me with a
hairbrush when I was your size, Minerva, which is something your nephew should
have had the benefit of to teach him not to be an irresponsible spoiled brat."
"Don't waste your breath trying to argue with my wife the barbarian, Aunt
Minerva," sniffed Ricky. "I don't know why I married her. There's so many more
sophisticated fabulously wealthy celebrities I could have stalked for nude photos
and seduced with my boyish charm."
"Go get ready for bed like I told you to do, young man, or your boyishly
charming behind is going to be glowing red for a week."
"Going...I'm going," said Ricky hastily leaving the living room.
"And as for you, young lady..."said Lucy turning to her short elderly
housekeeper with a dangerous grin that made Minerva start backing away,
"N-now Mrs. Lane, I'm nearly old enough to be your mother."
"I distinctly recall telling you not to let Ricky have the keys to my jaguar
this morning because I had a hunch he might try to pull some crazy stunt
like
this so how did he manage to get them?"
"W-well, you know how persuasive Ricky can be. It's so hard for me to ever
say no to him when he wants something."
"That's just what I suspected, Minerva, so I'm going to give you a little
help having the will power to resist that little con artist you raised the
next time he asks you to help him with one of his crazy dangerous publicity
stunts like the one he pulled tonight that nearly got him killed. This is
something that I've been itching to do ever since you moved in with us."
Minerva turned to make a break for it, but Lucy quickly snatched the tiny
housekeeper up off her feet and carried her kicking and squirming over to the
living room sofa. Sitting down on it, Lucy pinned Minerva across her knee like
a child, flipped up the woman's bathrobe, slid down her pajama bottoms, and
raised her right hand to lay down the law to Minerva's little bare behind.
Ricky winced sympathetically rubbing his own still smarting backside as he
listened with his ear at the bedroom door to the slaps and shrieks coming from
the living room. Then he went to go finish his bubble bath smiling at the
comforting thought of Lucy and his aunt finally bonding like a family. This
evening had worked out in the end much better than he'd expected it to when
he was strapped to Dr. Lugosi's operating table.
"SUPERWOMAN SPANKS HER BOY WONDER AFTER RESCUING HIM FROM MAD SCIENTIST" was
the headline in the morning paper with an accompanying photo of Ricky having
his panties warmed across Lucy's knee. "They know I don't like that nickname,"
frowned Lucy reading it at breakfast,"and don't for a minute think you're my
teenage sidekick Wonder Boy now, young man. I'm just a nice normal millionaire
private investigator and you're going to stick to being a reporter
photographing fashion models and taking college courses for your journalism
degree from now on. Terrific pancakes this morning, Minerva. May I have some
more coffee please?"
"Why aren't you sitting down at the table for breakfast with us this morning,
Aunt Minerva?" grinned Ricky.
"Eating standing up is better for my digestion, you scamp,"said Minerva
blushing, "and we all know why you're eating breakfast sitting on a pillow."
"Now that this case is over, why don't we lock up the penthouse for a bit
and the three of us go on a vacation someplace, get away from the city," said
Lucy. "Maybe a trip to Europe or a Caribbean Cruise."
"Where I'd really like to see is that lost city where you discovered all
those gold relics down in South America," smiled Ricky."Getting some photos of
those dinosaurs in the jungle valley around it would be awesome!"
"Don't even think about it," frowned Lucy. "The last time I was there I was
nearly devoured by a flock of Pterodactyls."
"You know, I've always wanted to visit Disneyland," sighed Minerva. "I had
a very bleak deprived childhood here in the city and always used to dream about
what it would be like to have parents who could take me there. Why you know...
if I dyed my hair blond and put it in pigtails and wore this adorable little
white pinafore dress I was looking at in the mall yesterday, I'll bet everybody
would think I was your little princess, Lucy. Don't you think that would fun?"
"Be serious, Minerva," said Lucy. "You're.. not serious? Disneyland? I mean...
you're actually serious, aren't you?"
"I still say South America would have been a better vacation," complained
Ricky dressed up like an African big game hunter. At least there you wouldn't
have all these guys making passes at you and asking if I was your son.
Where's
Aunt Minerva?"
"Over there on the merry-go-round with the cotton candy," sighed Lucy, falling
exhausted into her seat at the Parisian style outdoor cafe. "She's been
running me ragged all morning chasing around after her. She even had them
paging for her 'mommy' once when we got separated. I can't believe how much
she's getting into this little game of hers. It's like she's in her second
childhood. I told her if I caught her buying another roll of half-price
tickets
lying about her age I was going to put her across my knee for a
spanking when we got back to the hotel."
"Let me guess,"smiled Ricky, "She did it anyway."
"And giggled when I caught her at it. I mean fun's fun, but she could get
herself arrested pulling cons like that. I'm beginning to think we would have
been safer with the Pterodactyls."
"From what I know of my Aunt's life before I went to live with her, she
really did have a pretty rough childhood. She spent a lot of time living on
the street running around with criminals. She's always been attracted to
strong motherly figures...which I suppose runs in our family. Being very
recklessly impulsive non-conformist risk takers me and my aunt really need
squares like you smacking some common sense into our butts now and then. One
of the down sides of having high social intelligence making us able to con
our way out of trouble a lot easier than most people is that without having
to face the sort of normal consequences that keeps most people in touch with
reality we can end up with swelled heads addicted to the thrill of getting
ourselves in trouble. It's probably part of the reason so many of us end up
becoming orphans at a young age. Everybody's luck runs out sooner or later
and when ours does, the level of risks we've become accustomed to getting
away with tend to be fatal."
"Ricky, when I first met you I thought you were the biggest idiot in the
world but you actually have a lot of hidden depths of wisdom I just wish
you'd listen to more often. Your aunt is lucky to have you as a father."
"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! THE ROBOTS FROM THE EXHIBITS ARE GOING BERSERK!"
"Why does this sort of thing happen wherever I go?" sighed Lucy.
"What sort of a lunatic would re-program all those Disneyland robots into
rampaging mechanical monsters!" Lucy grumbled as she staggered into the
door of their hotel room covered with black soot and tattered clothes from
the fires and explosions. "It's a miracle nobody was killed!"
"On the bright side I got some great pictures like you rescuing Aunt Minerva
from that tyrannosaurus and the March of the Wooden Soldiers we were able to
program to destroy those evil robots the Red Nazi planned to conquer the world
with, "said Ricky, staggering in behind Lucy also covered with soot and tatters.
"Speaking of Aunt Minerva, where is she?"
"Right here," giggled Minerva skipping cheerfully into the room in her still
spotless white dress. This is the most fun vacation trip I've ever had!
I have
the best mommy and daddy in the whole world! Let's do this every year! O can we?
Can we? Can we? Can we? O can we?"
"Minerva, we are NOT your mommy and daddy," frowned Lucy.
"Yes, you are," smiled the tiny woman in blond pigtails,"and you saved me
from all those scary bad toys because I'm you're adorable little girl and you
love me! You said I could be your little girl for as long as we were on vacation
and a promise is a promise, isn't that right, Mommy?"
"We've just battled a horde of robot monsters, Minerva. We're tired and we
need to wash up, change clothes, and get some rest, so you're taking this game
way too far. We need a time out."
"No, we don't," smiled Minerva.
"Yes, we do."
"No, we don't."
"Yes."
"No."
' "Yes!"
"No!"
"Minerva! This is insane! You're being...oh...well, I suppose you're right.
We did promise to let you be our little girl while we were here...and a promise
is a promise...and speaking of promises... as I recall I promised a certain
little con artist a good spanking when we got back to the hotel if I caught her
lying about her age to get half-price tickets."
"Uh...you know, you're right, Mrs. Lane, I suppose I did get a little carried
away...let's all take a time out."
"Oh, no...you aren't getting out of that spanking I promised you that easily,
young lady, "smiled Lucy. "What makes the game of real life much more exciting
and important than any other game is that you can't just change the rules
whenever it suits you and rule number one is that in real life actions have
consequences! If you want to act like a child, you get treated that way."
Once again, Lucy was much too big and fast for Minerva's escape attempt and
the tiny woman once again found herself being snatched up off her feet and
carried over to a sofa where she was easily pinned face down across the taller
woman's lap. Feeling the back of her pinafore dress and lacy white crinoline
slips brushed up into the small of her back, Minerva tried to cover up her
exposed white cotton panties but quickly found her tiny wrists pinned behind
her back by Lucy's powerful left hand, helpless to do anything but kick and
squirm in trembling anticipation as she felt the palm of Lucy's right hand
center itself on the seat of her underpants. "Ricky, do something!"
"Calling your father by his first name is very disrespectful, young lady,"
smiled Ricky. "However there is something I need to do...get my camera to
take some more pictures of Daddy's Little Princess on her first trip here
to Disneyland. Mrs. Lane, you have no idea how hard it was raising our
little girl and keeping her away from bad influences without the firm
guiding hand of a mother to control her criminal impulses, not to mention
supporting both of us on my meager photographer earnings. She's so cute
and adorable she just had me wrapped around her little finger. Marrying
you was the best decision I ever made and Minerva couldn't ask for a
better step-mother. Now wallop the devil out of that manipulative
little brat's behind."
"What? W-wait! No! You can't...OW! OW! OUCH! OW! WAAAAAGH..."
"No, I don't want to look at your pictures, Ricky," pouted Minerva as
they sat beside each other at the airport while Lucy was getting them some
snacks for the plane trip. "I'm still mad at you."
"Come on, Aunt Minerva, "smiled Ricky. "It was just a couple spankings.
She spanks me too but you don't see me getting all bent out of shape over it.
We're living in luxury rolling in dough beyond our wildest dreams back when
we were having to scrape by on the photos I sold and your housekeeper jobs
...and we don't have risk ending up in jail pulling any con games like we
used to do.
This is sort of like a con I suppose but it's the Big One...the
ultimate payoff you taught me to look for...and it's all totally legal.
We both know Lucy isn't a bad person. She's been real good to both of us
and hasn't asked for much in return. Okay, maybe she does have this
essentially harmless little spanking fetish that turns her on a lot more
than she'd feel comfortable admitting to but big deal. Clearly she's not
a sadistic monster like your cell mate Selena who just wants to make
people suffer for no reason. Both of the spankings we got after all were
for taking stupid childish risks like lying about your age buying those
tickets for example. What were you thinking? If you wanted more tickets
she's got more than enough money to pay adult prices for you. Do you
want to get sent back to prison?"
"Well...I suppose that was a bit silly of me, but I've been using my
size to get child fares for so long it's a habit like smoking cigarettes."
"Which by the way, she knows you've been sneaking around doing when
you think nobody's looking. She thinks it's bad for you and told me she's
going to spank you next time she catches you doing it."
"What? Why that's outrageous! She can't do that! I normally don't smoke
in public because I know a lot of people don't like it, but I'm an adult
and I can smoke whenever I darn well please! I've got a good mind to
light up a cigarette right here to show her she can't tell me what to do!"
"Actually, there's a no smoking sign here, Aunt Minerva, so don't."
"Darn it. Well, I still think she's too bossy."
"Lucy wants to be a mother. Her spanking fetish is probably just an
aspect of that as yet unfulfilled desire. I've noticed she likes slapping
me on the behind when we're having sex so..."
"Stop right there, I don't want to hear about your sex life, Ricky.
I'm your aunt not some dance hall hussy."
"Oh, don't be so uptight, Aunt Minerva! I'm just saying there's a long
association between flagellation and fertility rituals and Lucy is worried
that because of her abnormal biochemistry that makes her the strongest
woman in the world she may not be able to have children. Everything has
Freudian subtexts you know. Forgive me if making mention of that embarrasses
you but since you were never willing to tell me about the birds and the
bees when I was going through puberty I had to pick up everything I know
about it from psychology books at the library. No wonder I developed a
fetish for women's clothes. This is why boys need male role models to
talk to."
"WORLD MORNS DEATH OF SUPERWOMAN IN MYSTERIOUS PENTHOUSE EXPLOSION"
"According to this, the police suspect it was the work of the He-Man
Woman
Haters Society, probably because of the note we gave them that came with the
bomb saying that's who sent it to us. They sure don't miss a clue, do they?
Why do they always have to use that corny name for me? They know that I always
thought it was pretentious, "said a blond man in a blue business suit wearing
sunglasses sitting on a bench in the park next to a woman in a short red dress
and dark Betty Page hair also wearing sunglasses.
"Not so loud, okay, remember you're supposed to be dead," hushed the
woman.
"Anyhow your name now is George Colt and I'm your wife Marion. Haven't you ever
had a secret identity?"
"I think they're ridiculous, Rick...I mean, Marion. We just need to keep a
low profile incognito for a few days and let everybody think we're dead to
give the police time to round up that deranged secret society and then we'll
all go back to normal without having to worry about anybody sending bombs to
our penthouse. Speaking of low profiles, where's our impish little daughter
Penny? Didn't you tell her not to wander off?"
"Aw, she never listens to me. To her I'm still her teenage nephew."
"Well you're a grown woman now, Marion,"smiled the disguised Lucy Lane at
her husband. "Your aunt needs to start treating you like an adult and we can't
have her wandering off by herself with a secret society of psychopaths trying
to murdering us running around loose in the city. When that young lady gets
back she's getting her tail blistered for disobeying you."
"That's just what she needs," grinned Marion Colt. "She's been going off
the deep end ever since you saved us from the explosion at the penthouse."
"Right, and this time you're going to be the one to spank her."
"Me? B-but I can't do that. She's my aunt."
"Yes you can and you will. It's time you learned to take charge for a
change instead of letting me be the disciplinarian in the family all the time.
Respecting your elders is all well and good, but as you yourself said, your
aunt is an adult child who never had a normal healthy childhood which is most
likely why she ended up in prison. Whatever your flaws, you at least had the
common sense not to get a criminal record, you're better educated than she is,
and as a practical matter you're bigger and stronger than she is so you
should
be able to put her over your knee without having it turn into a brawl
where somebody might get seriously injured. I can't be watching her 24 hours
a day.
We need to start sharing the load in providing her with responsible
adult supervision to keep her out of mischief. Besides, I think I enjoy
spanking her too much. That cute little behind of hers gives me goosebumps
whenever I slap it and I don't want my enjoyment of spanking her to become
the main reason that I spank her. She needs discipline but I want to reduce
my risk of losing self-control to set a responsible example of it. Oh, I
hate this being disguised as a man! It makes me feel like a negro being
followed by a police car."
"Well, like I said, a tall man with a short woman is less likely to
attract attention than a short man with a tall woman. Now you see why I
feel more comfortable dressed up like a woman. Men having astronomically
higher rates of being arrested for violent crimes than women, most people
feel more
wary of strange men than strange women, even though the vast
majority of men have never been violent criminals. Personally I think your
short haired dark
dangerous look makes you look even sexier, but I'm a sucker
for strong dames."
"And I think you're cute when you talk like Sam Spade in that dress,"
smiled Lucy taking him in her arms and giving him a sultry kiss...followed
by a quick sharp slap on the seat of his skirt. "Don't try changing the
subject. You need to get your Aunt Minerva under control. We're much less
likely to attract notice from the lunatics looking for us if she's our normal
sized daughter than she would as your unusually short elderly aunt, as you
yourself pointed out, so we're going to have both get used to treating her
like our daughter, and if she
doesn't like playing her little Disneyland role
as much in this situation where it can actually help us, too bad. Staying
alive is our first priority right now or I wouldn't be in this suit and tie
and these horribly uncomfortable shoes."
"I wouldn't worry too much about Aunt Minerva. She's just..."
"HELP! HELP! THEY'RE AFTER ME!" Minerva screamed as she came running out
of an alley towards Lucy and Ricky at the park bench. A gang of about five
street thugs were chasing her.
"You grab her and make a run for it back to our hotel,"commanded Lucy.
"I'll stay here and be a road block."
"There's five of them, and I think one of them just pulled out a knife
...come with mommy, Penny dear. See you back at the hotel, George."
"Well, I wouldn't have had to try picking Shark's pocket for his pack of
cigarettes if you'd just bought me a pack like I asked you!" Aunt Minerva
wagged her finger scowling up at Ricky with an angry face under her black
dyed
hair and pony tail. "I'm sorry if I'm a little rusty at picking pockets
but it's really all your fault! The last couple of days we've been on the
lamb from a gang of maniacs who blow up buildings! Where's that lap of luxury
you were going on about at the airport? This is not luxury! Oh, do I need a
smoke right now...and don't tell me it's bad for my health! So is having our
home blown up!
The way we're going I may not have any health to worry
about tomorrow!"
"Aunt Minerva, if go around pulling stupid stunts like that we could all
get killed. You agreed these disguises we've got are the safest way for us
to blend into the crowd until they round up the psychopaths after us, and
then you not only risk blowing our cover for your stupid nicotine habit,
but go get even more maniacs chasing us. I left my wife back there fighting
off a gang of vicious animals to protect you and you're here complaining
about how unfair it is that real life doesn't have any time outs where
you can take a smoke break
and blaming me for your catastrophic failure
as a master criminal. Lucy was telling me you were just an overgrown
out of control delinquent and she was right. She told me how I needed
to deal with you, and I'm going to do it!"
"R-Ricky..w-what are you going to do? Y-you don't mean...you couldn't!
Y-you wouldn't dare! L-let me go!" Minerva struggled against the superior
strength of her taller nephew to no avail as he dragged her over to an
arm-less wooden chair in the center of their hotel room, wrestled her down
across the lap of his skirt, and pinned her arm to the small of her back.
Her little red dress with black polka dots was so short her frilly edged
white cotton panties
were partially exposed just being in that position,
but he flipped them up even farther fully exposing the seat of the tiny
woman's underpants.
"Oh I wouldn't dare, would I?" he grinned angrily as he put the palm
of his hand on the center of his squirming target. "It's time you accepted
the fact that I've become a man!" he said raising his right hand and bringing
it down on Minerva's bottom with a loud slap.
"OUCH! You beast!" she said angrily in shock. "If you're a man how come
you're wearing a dress?"
"Because I'm your mother!" SMACK!
"OW! No you're not my mother!"
"Yes I am!" SLAP!
"OW! That doesn't even make sense!"
"Yes, it does, young lady, and you know it."SPANK!
"OW! Stop it! This is unfair!"
"No, it's not fair, and your point is...?" SPANK!
"OWWW! Stop it, you're killing me!"
"No, smoking is killing you but there is no such a thing as death by spanking.
I'm trying to save your life because I love you." SPANK!
"OWWW! I hate you, you monster!"
"Penelope Colt, that's no way to talk to your mother. Hi, honey, I'm
home,"
grinned Lucy coming in and closing the door behind her.
"Lucy!" said Ricky, letting Aunt Minerva slide off his lap and getting up
from his chair to give his wife a big hug. "Are you okay? Your suit is all dirty.
Minerva, go stand in the corner while I take care of your father, young lady!
Your spanking isn't over yet. Are you hurt, dear?"
"I don't think I'll be able to sit down all night, you beast," sniffled
a
pouting faced Minerva fighting back tears rubbing the seat of her short polka
dot dress and her smoking underpants under it's micro-mini hemline.
"I wasn't talking to you, young lady, I was talking to your father."
"Oh I'm fine," smiled Lucy. "Rough day at the office, but there were only
five of them. They didn't stand a chance. Shark told me what it was all about
after I pounded his face in the ground for a bit. I promised him that my
daughter would get a spanking for trying to pick his pocket and told him I was
not going to press charges against him and his boys for attempted assault and
battery since after all I was the one doing most of the battering in the fight.
They were very happy to call it a night. I heard the spanking out in the hall.
This hotel probably isn't the best place for us. Tomorrow I'll buy us a car
and we can drive into the suburbs and get a house there until this business
is over
with. Someplace with a little more privacy."
"What about your jaguar back at the penthouse garage?"
"We don't want to go near the penthouse because the bad guys might be
watching it if they're suspicious about our faked deaths. I'm not even using
my main bank accounts. I've got some private accounts I set up in case I
needed to
provide witness protection to any of my private investigator clients.
Never thought I'd be using them myself. Let's just tuck our daughter into bed
and call it a night ourselves. You look so sexy in that dress right now, Ricky,
I can't wait to get it off you."