The Girl Next Door part 3 f/f

[henry999]

“Right young lady, I am not happy with you. You have absolutely no business watching a private punishment. A slippering is to punish bad behaviour and prevent its recurrence. It is not, repeat, not, entertainment. But you watched Tommy so it’s only fair he should watch you receive your just deserts. Three four or six?” Wait! You’re about to start pleading with me: don’t. One word and I’ll award you a flinch. Three four or six?”
All the spark had gone out of that lassie: she looked scared and about to burst into tears. She hung her head a little, looked up at her sister. “I’ve nothing on under these shorts so can I count them as knickers and take the four please Lorna?”
Lorna cocked her head slightly to the side, thinking. She pursed her lips as though concentrating hard, then “No. The shorts are thicker than knickers and it’s your decision to dress like a tramp with no drawers, so you’re choosing three or six. Want to argue?”
Jilly shook her head ruefully. I knew what she was thinking, always take the six, that’s what she’d advised me, and having sampled Lorna’s proficiency with a gym shoe I knew why. Thin underpants would give virtually no protection and as for having it bare……no thanks! But Jilly had a dilemma here. I thought her point that the shorts were no more protection than underwear was totally fair. The material was thin and stretchy, some kind of lycra stuff I think. So six over them, especially if Lorna did her hit- through thing, would be a nightmare. I could see Jilly thinking the same thing, then she made her decision. She raised her head, looked her sister straight in the eye and boldly said “Three then.”
Wow. Not only was I going to see a lovely girl’s bottom, I was going to see it get walloped. How red would it go? Was I excited? You bet. The pain throbbing away in my own bum was forgotten in the excited anticipation of what was to come. Without being told Jilly went over to the table, turned to face it, then with thumbs in the waistband of her shorts she tugged them down round her ankles, stepped out of them and pushed them aside with her foot. She leant forward, took hold of each corner in what was obviously a well-practised manner, then faced forward. Her expression was resolute but left no doubt she was worried about the hiding she was about to receive. I felt guilty about my enjoyment of the situation but what the hell. I was a) only human and b) a randy teenager who had never even dreamed of seeing a female bottom displayed like this right in front of my eyes. And what a bottom it was. She had lovely long legs that swept up to a tight round little posterior. No surplus flesh on it whatsoever but without the covering of a garment it was all woman. She had narrow hips but there was a little curve out to her ass, then back in at the top of those luscious legs.
I was surprised when Lorna went over to the dresser with her plimsoll. She opened the drawer, dropped it in then took out something else. When she turned I could see it was a bright yellow beach shoe with gay red patterns on it. It was one of those
one -piece rubber things you see kids play in at the seaside. The sole and the top aren’t separate, it’s all just one piece made of soft floppy rubber or the likes. I must have looked surprised because Lorna turned to me and explained that she was using this because the gym shoe was too heavy for bare backsides. She said she’d given Jilly three on the bare once before and it had bruised. “I don’t want lasting damage, that’s not acceptable. Corporal Punishment should be a short sharp shock then finished. So I’m trying this. It shouldn’t leave nasty marks but I hope it will sting like hell.”
I couldn’t see Jilly’s reaction to this, she hadn’t turned round at all which I thought very brave. Or perhaps she just knew what the consequences would be. Lorna crossed over to her sister. Same procedure as with me, she stood just behind and a bit to the left of her, flexed the shoe, swished it through the air a couple of times, (It made more noise than the plimsoll,) then tapped her sister’s bottom. One tap. Pause. Another tap. Pause. Then she brought the rubber shoe up to half height, started to swing it down, then really slowed the swing so it was just another tap. Jilly’s back arched and she let out such a gasp. She thought that was the first one coming and I think she almost let go of the table. “Careful, dear sister, you know what happens if you let go. Right, prepare yourself.”
With no further ado she raised the slipper to shoulder height, paused a second then raised it a little above shoulder height. Then with no pause at all she whoomphed it down with terrific force, landing accurately on her poor victim’s sweet spot. It made a different sound than the plimsoll: more of a splat than a crack, but by gum it was a beauty. Jilly made a little “Uh” sound but she didn’t move a jot. Brave girl. Lorna stepped back and waited a few seconds. Where the slipper had landed there almost immediately sprang up a patch of red. Bright red. It looked very fetching: my trousers were bulging with the hardest erection I’d ever known, and there and then another spanko was born.
The second one was delivered with just as much force, landing slightly higher than the first. This one got a reaction. The “UH” was a lot louder and Jilly went into a little dance, waving her bum side to side jiggling it up and down and doing anything she could to throw off the pain in that delicious little behind. She never for one second loosened her grip on the table. Half of me was thinking how respectful I felt of her bravery, and the other half was praying I didn’t make a mess in my trousers. This little tanning- induced dance was too much to bear!
With the third stroke, to be the last, Lorna tried her nasty little trick again, pulling the stroke at the last minute. She swung with full force, you could hear it swishing through the air. But then at the last second she switched her aim so the slipper missed the bottom and swung on up into the air. Jilly tensed as it was coming, her buttock cheeks were clenched delightfully, and she pulled her bottom forward slightly. “Now, no moving, or it’s a flinch.” She waited, I don’t know, probably a good thirty seconds. Then with no warning she swiped the third down landing in the exact same spot. I realised at this point that Lorna was in fact a thorough ocean going sadist. She was doing her damndest to make her sibling flinch so she would have the pleasure of giving her another stroke. The patch on Jilly’s backside was now deep deep red but she never made a sound. That hurt, I could see that really hurt, but she was so brave. “Right, Tommy, out. And you, up to your room and don’t come down till teatime. And you are not to see each other again today: if you do I’ll cane you both. Now go.”
I didn’t need telling twice, I needed to get home straight away for much needed hand relief. Plus I had to give Mum a quick flash of my ass and I better do that while it was still red or who knew, she might send me back for an encore. (After that first time she always did a quick inspection: said it was quicker than checking with the Mellings that justice had been done.)
I didn’t see Jilly for a few days. The summer holidays began and we went with Mum to Belgium where Dad was working on a new oil refinery. We stayed there for two weeks, had a great time on the beach, riding hired bikes, and all the things kids used to do before computer games, facebook and so on. When we got home the weather was lovely: all the girls were in their summer clothes which was a constant torment. I had a passionate necking session with little Jane, but she wouldn’t go any further. I was constantly trying to subtly get her into some spanking game but she was oblivious to my hints. Of Jilly, no sign. She hung round with a different crowd, not the kids off our estate, and I kind of thought she was avoiding me, probably out of embarrassment. I could understand that: I’d seen her naked bum being thrashed red and jiggling about like a pole dancer, so it figured she would be embarrassed right enough.
The weather was absolutely lovely: long hot dry sunny days one after the other. The garden was looking very unkempt after the holidays and after we’d been home a week or so Mum decreed we should tidy it up, get it looking nice again. She was a keen vegetable grower so she would be weeding and tending the veg beds and the fruit bushes. Ricky was in charge of weeding the flower bed and the rockery, my job as always was the lawn. It was a big lawn and we had a small mower. It was a two stroke so the plug was always oiling up and needing cleaning, and the grass box wasn’t very big and needed emptying all the time, so it was a pretty big chore. I’d arranged to go swimming with some local lads so I said I’d do it the next day. The weather forecast was fine so Mum was happy with that. I was gone all day and when I got back I could see she and Ricky had been hard at it, place looked smashing apart of course from the unkempt grass. I intended doing it the next day but got roped into a footie match over on the next estate. I went on my bike and after the game…well things came up and I never got home till teatime. Mum wasn’t best pleased and I promised faithfully to do it the next day. That night I got a call from my best mate, a few of them were going off fishing the next day, to a reservoir about ten miles away. We’d be going on our bikes, bicycles were our transport in those days, so they planned an earlyish start, ten o’clock. I wasn’t missing out on that so I hatched a cunning plan. I knew I was for it if I didn’t do the lawn: hell, it could even be another trip next door and no way was I risking that. So I set my alarm for seven. That would give me time to mow the blasted thing, have breakfast and meet up with my mates.
Did the alarm fail? Did I sleepily turn it off and go back to sleep? I don’t know, but I do know that when I woke up it was eight thirty. Shit! I threw on a tee shirt and a pair of trackie bottoms, raced downstairs and got the mower out. It was a two hour job, even if the bloody thing didn’t keep oiling up, but as always I had a plan. I poured some more neat petrol into the mixing can, so the two stroke mixture would be less oily. I decided to mow the grass without the grass box, that would be loads quicker and what did a bit of cut grass matter anyway. I could rake it up later. So that is what I did. I got it cut as quickly as I could and shot off to meet up with my pals. Mum was down the road having coffee with her friend so I reckoned she’d be pleased enough to see it cut when she got back.
We had a great day, though it was too hot for much luck with the fish. I got back about half four in plenty of time for tea. Ricky was in the garden kicking a ball about. “Boy are you in trouble” he said. I was about to ask him what the trouble was when a furious mother came storming out of the house, yelling at me to come here NOW. To cut a long story short she was very unhappy when she trod some grass into the house and realised I hadn’t collected it. I said I would have raked it up when I got home. Instead she’d decided to use the mower to pick it up. Half way through the job the mower had seized up. I was never any good at lying to her and anyway I felt very guilty. Mowers were expensive in those days. I admitted what I had done with the fuel and why. She was as cross as I have ever seen her. “Right,” she says. “Tomorrow you can push that mower all the way to the garden centre and leave it for repair. And whatever it costs is coming out of your allowance.” Fair enough. “And…………” Oh dear. I had a horrible feeling I knew what was to follow. “And ,I’m ringing Lorna, you can go pay a little visit. I look forward to seeing a very red bottom when you get back.

Oh hell. I didn’t even bother arguing, I knew that would just wind her up more and she might ask for a more severe punishment. I heard her on the phone. “Hello Jilly, it’s Mrs XXXX here. Would you ask Lorna if she is available to deal with Tommy, he’s been very bad? Yes I’ll hang on. A brief pause then “thank you, that’s grand, I’ll send him right over.
To be concluded