The Christmas Raffle (F/f, F/m)

[goodgulf]

The Christmas Raffle

"So what is this drawing that I've been hearing about?" Lucy Appleton asked her friend over afternoon coffee.

"Oh, that's right, it's your family's first Christmas here." Angie Potter said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you in the dark; it's that you fit in so well it seems as if you've been part of the community forever."

"Thanks." Lucy smiled. "And everyone's made us feel so welcome that it feels like that. At least until I come across something new."

"Oh, well it's an annual raffle, with a twist." Angie told her. "The tickets are one for a dollar, three for two dollars, and you get a book of ten for five."

"It sounds like you sell lots of tickets." Lucy observed.

"We do." Angie nodded. "We've tried charging more, but that leaves people feeling left out. This way every student can have their names on lots of tickets."

"Only the students can buy them?" Lucy asked.

"No, sorry, I've skipped something." Angie said. "Maybe I should start from the top?"

"Maybe." Lucy agreed.

"It's basically a charity raffle, with the money getting split between two causes. Part of it goes to help needy children at Christmas and part of it goes to the Children's Hospital." Angie began. "This way kids get something at Christmas and the rest is there to help all year round."

"That sounds sensible." Lucy said, echoing one of the favourite compliments of her new neighbourhood. Around here, when people wanted to praise an idea they said that it 'sounded sensible'.

"It does." Angie nodded. "And it is. Now with most raffles it's a numbered ticket or you write your name on it, but this one is different. As we put the tickets in the drum we tally up whose names are them and after we draw the winning ticket at random we announce how many tickets each student got his or her name on. In a way it's a form of voting, but the draw is random. One ticket is all you need to win, but some of the students compete to see how many they can their names on, going for the title."

"Title? You mean like Winter Princess or something along those lines?" Lucy said, her mind already going down that track. The more tickets the better chance you had at winning and what better way to fit in at a new school than to buy a title like that? "I can see how that makes sense, selling votes on something like that."

"Um, no, the Winter Prince and Princess are chosen another way." Angie informed her. "The title they get is biggest brats of the year."

"The ... the what?" Lucy asked, not sure that she had heard correctly.

"Biggest brats." Angie confirmed with a smile. "It's a joke title that everyone laughs at, but some people chase it. We have two drawings, one for the boys, one for the girls, and the winners are crowned the biggest brats in school."

"Um, but, um..."

Lucy couldn't find the words to express herself, mostly because she didn't actually know what she wanted to say.

"Oh, it's not mean or anything." Angie assured her. "And every student gets one free ticket with their names on it to start them off. And yes, there have been years when that one free ticket was the only ticket with a winner's name on it."

"Um, I see." Lucy said, forcing herself to nod. "No, I don't. If all the money goes to charity and the winner isn't the one with the most tickets, what do the winners win?"

"Oh, that." Angie laughed. "They get gag gifts. The girl wins a hairbrush, one with a heavy wooden back, while the boy gets a leather strap. Not a belt, a strap. Those are sensible prizes for a brat, especially the biggest brat in the school. Of course no one uses those when they're given out."

"Of course not." Lucy nodded, relaxing.

"At least not usually."

"Not usually?" Lucy echoed uncertainly.

"Oh, well sometimes, many times, one of the winners also has the most votes." Angie explained. "It's bound to happen now and then. After all, the more tickets you have the better your odds of winning. Now when that happens, the winner usually meets with the PTA to get a symbolic five pats with the prize."

"Pats?" Lucy queried.

"Pats." Angie confirmed. "Not swats, not smacks, just giggle inducing pats. Well the girls usually giggle."

"Um, okay, just pats." Lucy nodded, wrapping her head around it. Pats, well that's just something fun, and at ten for $5 she could easily afford two hundred tickets. The money would go to a good cause and winning (or just having a high total) would help her kids fit in at their new school.

"Just pats." Angie agreed. "Usually."

"Usually?" Lucy echoed again, seeking further clarification.

"Well, sometimes the kids want to take it to a different level." Angie explained, wondering how this old tradition sounded to this newcomer. "And it's always their decision. If they decide to, well, it's more than just pats and there are more, many more, than five."

"What? But... Okay, how do they... Is there some form that gets filled out?"

"What? No! Of course not. Someone could be pressured into something like that. No, it only happens to volunteers." Angie assured her. "I think it started in the 60s or maybe the 50s or sometime like that, when someone asked how the presenter would like to use the gift. Laughing and mocking the presenter about being the biggest brat in the school. Of course, back then, well that was then."

"The past is a different country." Lucy nodded.

"And that was the first time one of those prizes got used publicly." Angie said. "There were always stories about them being used at home, or being donated to the family of whoever got the most votes to be put to good use, but that was the first time they got used in a non-playful way at the school. Of course this is way before my time, but after that first time there was motion to make things more than symbolic for all the winners, which ruined the event. It went from a fun game to 'watch it or I'll buy a ticket and put your name on it'. Ticket sales dropped to almost nothing and the A-students protested that they weren't brats so shouldn't be at risk and the raffle was almost dropped, which would have been too bad because it's one of the biggest fundraiser of the year. Well, fundraisers of the year. We do it again at Easter and have a third drawing on the last day of classes. Part of the money always goes to the Children's Hospital and the rest either goes for Easter gifts or to help fund summer sports. You know, buying jockstraps for boys who can't afford them."

"Jockstraps? That's a weird example." Lucy commented.

"But a sensible one." Angie countered. "Other equipment can be bought by the team and shared around, but who would wear a used jockstrap?"

"There is that." Lucy nodded. "But, well do the winners actually have to ask?"

"Oh, of course not. No, they just, well, don't wear as much."

"Don't wear as much?" Lucy echoed.

"Make themselves ready for more than a play spanking." Angie clarified. "Okay, maybe I have to give examples. Traditionally, girls have worn skirts to school, right? Well the sign the brattiest girl can give is to tug her panties down far enough to be seen. The boy, well that used to involve wearing his gym shorts with nothing under them, but lately some of the students have been wearing pyjamas pants to school and if they want to push thing then they change in those bathrooms that are off the PTA room, change so there's nothing on under the pyjamas. Or maybe go in there with normal clothes and come out with only PJs or a nightie on."

"That's...."

"That's something that can't be forced." Angie said. "And it only happens when the winners also had the most votes in their class."

"In the class, not the school?"

"Oh, well the play smacks are always given to the top brat in the school, but if it's the top brat in their class they can still do it, if they want." Angie explained. "But they have to ask for the pats."

"Does anyone still wear..."

"Most of the ones in the running know they're selling lots of tickets." Angie told her. "Most of them dress as if they want the real thing if they win, and the dress code gets relaxed for those days. I've handled things a couple of times, and each and every time I had a male student over my lap he was wearing gym shorts or pyjamas."

"Really?"

"And each and every time I checked to see if he had anything under them." Angie revealed. "Making a big show of it. At Christmas I've even dressed like Mrs. Claus and asked if they were really naughty or just good at selling tickets. I've even pointed out the private PTA bathrooms and offered to let them change if they wanted to. And if they make a show of going to change, say into pyjamas or gym shorts, there's the show of rechecking when they come back."

"So it's a game, a rite of passage? A thing mostly the popular kids get to do?" Lucy asked, once more thinking about buying a huge number of tickets. "How does it work? Do the ticket buyers always put the ticket seller's name down?"

"Mostly, unless they know some who they'd rather support or call a brat and dish out those pats to them." Angie said, her line of thought sidetracked for only a moment. "But lots of time there's not even those pats. Only when the winner also has the most tickets."


Unvoiced was her story about what had happened the last time she had drawn that duty. The boy, Albert Vincono, had smirked when she pointed out the bathroom, but asked to get off her lap so he could 'use it'. He had been back in mere seconds, far too short to have made use of the facilities, and hopped over her lap. When she checked again she found there was nothing under his gym shorts

He had seemed almost shocked when those gym shorts went down below his hips..

Angie had heard that the name Vincono meant "winner" or "winning" or something like that, but Albert hadn't acted like a winner that day. Then again, she had heard that Albert's great grandfather's name had changed when he immigrated, just because the immigrations officer could spell Vincono easier than the family's real name.


"How do they check? For extra clothes?" Lucy clarified.

"Oh, well gym shorts and pyjamas have elastic waists, so you just lift the waistband and peek." Angie said. "Skirts tend to rise up when the girl over a lap. And yes, I know that from experience."

"Yes, you said you handled some of the winners." Lucy agreed.

"That too, but I went to the same school." Angie reminded Lucy. "I was good at selling tickets and I managed to win a few time. Not with the most tickets of any girls in the school, but whenever I was the top seller in my class I went to the PTA room, asked the special treatment, and my skirt went up when I went over a lap."

Angie opened her mouth to continue, to say what she hadn't been wearing under her skirt the first time. Her panties hadn't been visible below her skirt, but neither were they on her backside. She was ready to share that old memory, but Lucy spoke before Angie could reminisce.

"How many tickets get sold?" Lucy said, breaking into the conversation.

"Oh, well they aren't that expensive, not when you sell them in books of ten, and the top sellers in each class can easily get a thousand or more with their names on them." Angie revealed. "The top seller for the school can get several times that, but that doesn't guarantee winning. I'll never forget the time one girl sold over six thousand and the winner only had that one ticket that all the students get."

"Hmmm. And do both winners usually sell the same amount of tickets?" Lucy pressed, trying to get things straight in her head.

"Oh, well the girls usually outsell the boys, but that's a given." Angie replied. "Even a plain looking girl with a smile is a better at selling tickets than most of the boys. Especially for this."

"And winning the raffle, it's a big thing?" Lucy pressed.

"Of course it is." Angie grinned. "I still have that first brush I won."

Honestly, Angie was about to say just how much use her mother had gotten out of that brush, she was sure she was, but this time she paused, almost expecting Lucy to sidetrack things.

Lucy didn't disappoint her.

"Where can I get these tickets? Are they at the office or do the teachers hand them out?" Lucy asked.

"Both, and from the PTA." Angie said. "I can give a dozen books now, if you think you can sell them."

"I'll need more than a dozen." Lucy smiled. "But that's a start."


With Lucy hitting every source for tickets, it didn't take long for the rumour to spread that she was putting together a real campaign. Or rather, two campaigns: one for her son, one for her daughter. Word of the outsiders trying to buy the title sparked an unexpected reaction. Lucy had foreseen resentment (if only carefully hidden ire) but she was shocked by the smiles and nods. Beyond that, other parents were buying tickets in their names; even their teachers smiled when they revealed that they had filled out a few books with the Appleton name on them. By the day of the draw, Lucy estimated that half of the tickets were in her kids' names.

Which might not matter. Having half the tickets only gave you half the winning chances and a student with a single winning ticket might take home the prize.

Not on to plan for defeat, Lucy rehearsed cute, memorable plans with the pair, devised to brand the Appleton double win on the school's annals for all time to come.


Rebecca Appleton (never Becky or Beck, always Rebecca) squealed when she heard her name being drawn while her brother Adam (who hated having the initials A.A.) merely grinned. Of course they were both had the highest totals, each setting new records for sales.


Rebecca was disappointed not to have any witnesses, but the hallway was empty when she reached under her short, flared skirt to lower her green panties to her knees. Taking a deep breath and plastering on a smile, she entered the PTA to collect her prize. Rebecca saw a familiar face when entered the room; not her mother (Lucy was far too busy to attend a PTA gathering of any sort) but her mother's friend Angie Potter was there looking ready for the festive season as she stood by the eggnog near where the potluck was laid out.

Angie, decked out in her Mrs. Claus suit, looked over when Rebecca entered the room. She hadn't expected the girl's panties to be visible, but she wasn't shocked to see them. Not after the campaign Lucy had run.

"Hi there Becky." Angie called.

"It's Rebecca." Rebecca corrected.

"Rebecca then." Angie smiled. "Did your mom speak to you about the tradition? Because I know I told her all about it and I really want to be sure that you know all the details. This is your first year here, your first raffle, and it's only sensible to double check something like that."

"Oh, I know all the details." Rebecca smirked. "All of them."

"Well then let's get you your prize." Angie said with a smile. "But I have to say I'm bit surprised. I wouldn't have thought your parents were up for something like this."

Smirking, repressing giggles with all her strength, Rebecca went to where Angie was positioning a chair. Knowing that if she laughed even the least bit she would never stop giggling, Rebecca focused on keeping her green panties at their current level (just below her skirt).

"Oh, and the PTA bathrooms are over there, if you want to change or even just adjust your cloth before we officially start." Angie offered.

"No, I'm good." Rebecca smirked.

"No, you're a brat." Angie corrected. "The biggest brat that this school has ever seen. Valerie, I might be able to use your help here."

"Well I'll get in place in case you do." Valerie Eaton said. "It's only sensible to do that over this."

Rebecca watched as the women moved another chair, one for Valerie to sit on. As she was guided over Angie's lap, Rebecca found the other PTA woman taking charge of her arms, holding them outright above her head.

Not that Rebecca cared about what was happening with her arms, not with her skirt being raised.

Raised to expose the white panties that were hugging her bottom.

Rebecca tensed, waiting for the room to explode in laughter. Wearing two pairs, one visible and one in place, would place her among the top pranksters that the school had ever seen. Rebecca was sure that this would be talked about as long this idiotic, repressive raffle existed.

"Oh, well, don't worry." Angie told Rebecca. "You're not the first girl who was worried that her skirt might be flipped on her way here. In fact, if you don't change here it's almost sensible to do what you did. Now lift your hips."

"Do what?" Rebecca asked, still anticipating the laugher.

Rebecca felt fingers lifting the waistband of her white panties. She didn't lift her hips, but even without her cooperation her white panties joined the green ones around her leg.

"But, no, but, no, I was wearing..." Rebecca babbled.

Looking over her shoulder, Rebecca saw one of the other PTA women handing Angie the prize that Rebecca had wanted so much to win. The hairbrush looked ominously solid and heavy.

"Now for an idea on how to go from here." Angie said, hefting the hairbrush. "Have your parents, or anyone...."

"No never no, no never ever no." Rebecca babbled.

This was met with snorts of disbelief from the gathered PTA members.

"Oh, well maybe two or three time your age?" Angie suggested.

"No no no no no no." Rebecca chanted.

The whack of the brush (and accompanying jolt of pain) landing on her right bottom cheek ended Rebecca's chant. Rebecca paused, shocked to her core. A large part of her brain denied that this was happening to.

Then the brush fell again, landing on her left cheek, and Rebecca could no longer deny reality.

"No!" Rebecca howled, beginning to buck and twist.

But not to actually move much. Valerie had a good hold on Rebecca's arms while Angie had a firm grasp on the girl's torso. The most that she could do was kick and twist her legs, to no avail.

As the brush thundered down across the centre of her bottom, crashing onto her sit spot, the others in the room began to believe Rebecca's statement of never being in this position. It landed a four and fifth time as a consensus grew that the girl might never find herself there again. Between the sixth and seven smack, a second consensus began to form on that could be summed in few words:

Four times her age.

The tenth smack landed as someone put that consensus into words.

"If this is that brat's only time, let's make sure she know what a good, hard spanking feels like."

Angie nodded, wondering if Rebecca had followed the conversation.

She hadn't. Rebecca kicked and twisted in unfamiliar pain. She demanded, pleaded, then begged to be release, but Angie's arm never slowed. Her yelps of pain became howls that turned into sobs, but the demon who had assumed Mrs. Potter's form showed no sign of stopping.

The girl was crying like a baby when Angie finally stopped.

Valerie looked up from Rebecca's sobbing form to make a point.

"Those thigh smacks, from when she was kicking, they shouldn't count." Valerie declared. "The sentence was for smacks on her bottom, not her thighs. She's due another seven smacks."

With other muttering their agreement, Angie landed another eight smacks, the number growing because one of the seven somehow landed on Rebecca's leg. It landed on a place that would easily show below the girl's short, flared skirt, and remove any doubt over whether Rebecca had been spanked.

"Okay, we're done here." Angie declared. "Come on Becky, let's get the school nurse to check on you. You don't want to be here, all crying and half naked, when your brother arrives, do you?"

There was a murmuring that suggested the PTA women didn't have any objections to Adam seeing his sister this way, but two of them helped get Rebecca moving, herding to the nurse's office. Not that it was long a walk; the nurse's station was practically next to the PTA room.


Half an hour later, Adam arrived with his gym bag in his hand and a smirk on his face. Entering the room, he glanced around then asked loudly:

"Is there someplace I can change?"

Angie (who had downed a few more glasses of homemade eggnog), pointed him to the bathroom. After he disappeared into it, she asked her own question to the room.

"Does anyone doubt that he has a special workaround plan? Something we've seen countless times, like Becky's duo panties?"

Various heads shook as smiles spread. Not that the Appletons were disliked, but they were still seen as outsiders. Beyond that, Lucy never seemed to contribute when it came to the PTA or any other community group. What was about to happen was partly based on their feelings towards her, but it was also based on the idea that the brat of the year should have problems sitting - at least until his behaviour improved.

Angie and Valerie had taken their places by the time Adam emerged grinning from the bathroom. He was wearing his gym clothes, clothes that looked freshly laundered, confirming his mother involvement in today's plan. As the PTA women exchanged glances they silently shared one piece of knowledge, that no one ever laundered gym clothes right before the Christmas break. What was the point when they would be washed before classes restarted in January?

Adam was quivering with repressed laughter as he was positioned over Angie's lap, his arms securely grasped by Valerie.

"You've been at our house quite a bit recently." Valerie commented as she took hold. "But I've never seen you like this. If I'd known you were so compliant then things might have been different."

"Huh?" Adam asked, not sure what she was talking about.

Any question he might have died when Angie's fingers went into the waistband of his shorts. As she lifted, Angie was surprised to see bare cheek.

"Ah, well it looks as if these are coming down." Angie commented.

"Does it?" Adam chuckled.

"Lift your hips." Angie told him.

Adam eagerly complied.

The plan was revealed as his gym short went down. Under them, riding low on his hips, was his jockstrap.

"See? I'm not bare under them!" Adam laughed, his hips still raised off Angie's lap.

"The rule is no underwear." Angie reminded him as she moved her hands. "You're not the first boy who wanted to be modest as he was positioned."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Adam laughed.

Angie put her hands on either side of Adam's hips.

"But you don't need modesty now." Angie said.

One quick double handed yank had the jockstrap tangled in his gym shorts.

"So it comes down." Angie said, speaking after the fact.

Adam froze, then exploded in a flurry of motion. Angie took hold of him, and between her and Valerie she kept him over her lap.

"No! Wait! I tricked you! I wasn't bare under them!" Adam wailed.

"But the rule says underwear." Angie said, giving his bottom a firm smack that became a squeeze. "And I could see both of these chubby cheeks of yours."

"But no! You can't! This isn't right! We tricked you!" Adam insisted.

Angie was handed the strap as he protested. This time there was no discussion about the sentence; they had had more than enough time to work that out after Rebecca left to see the nurse over her sore bottom. The PTA was in agreement that this would be Adam's first spanking, but they didn't have total consensus that this would be the only that Adam graced a lap. Valerie was the lone holdout on that, thinking that while his pants might not be lowered again that Adam would collect his share of smacks as a visitor to her house. Especially as he was going to stay at her place for four days straight over the Christmas break.

In either case, his doom had been declared. Three times his age, with any blows landing on his thighs being repeated on his bottom.

Angie brought the strap down hard, crashing it against his entire bottom. Part of it wrapped around his right hip, coming close to making contact with Angie's leg, but she was too much an expert to injury herself during a strapping.

No matter how many eggnogs she had.

The strap left a visible line, one that crossed the handprint she had already left here. Then another line appeared, then another, then still more as the strap basted his bottom from pink to red. A few smacks made contact with his thighs; each time Angie loudly telling him not to twist so much. While the marks landed far below what his gym shorts would cover, he still had his jeans to put on. Unlike Rebecca, whose marks would be partially visible, Adam would be able to hide all the visible signs of his strapping.

Adam tried to be brave, but if anything he crumbled faster than Rebecca had. By the end of the strapping he owed Angie for four thigh smacks (smacks that had wrapped around his thigh when they landed), but Angie wasn't sure if she had the heart to give them to him.

Valerie suggested a compromise, one that was generally accepted and would spare him more from the strap. Positions were shifted and Valerie finished things off by delivering ten good hand smacks onto his well-strapped bottom.

Then it was his turn to visit the nurse.


For the rest of the day, Rebecca tried to die of embarrassment. The worse part of the day was that everyone knew that she had been spanked (at least that was the worse part after the nurse rubbed in a soothing salve that dulled the throbbing pain in her backside). Then, to insult to injury, half the girls she knew asked why she hadn't bounced her mother's plan off of them. It was humiliating to learn that the earliest known attempt at the double panty play had occurred in 1972. Not that it had worked then, as that winner's micro mini had proclaimed to the world. Hearing that her brother had crashed and burned had helped, a bit, but couldn't make up for people thinking that she was yokel whose genus plan was an ancient failed attempt at a prank. Nor could she point her finger at the real source of her failure. Being known as a failed prankster was one thing, but having people know that she had blindly followed her mother's plan? That would destroy what faded remnants of respect might remain for her.

With her dignity in tatters, Rebecca couldn't find it in her to correct everyone who was now calling her Becky.


Adam had a slightly better time of it, at least once the nurse treated him. He hadn't known of his sister's fate when he entered the PTA room, but it was over the school now - giving him the perfect excuse. His new story, that if his sister did that then he was going to prove that he was tougher than she was, was accepted as typically flawed macho logic.


There was an aftermath. How could there not be? Angie had to endure a phone call from Lucy that burned with barely suppressed hostility. Suppressed, because Lucy could never admit that she hadn't adequately researched the situation or even that it had been her plan from beginning to end. It took a visit to the school during the Christmas break to smooth the edges there.

Lucy had been appalled to see that the nurse had documented the states of Rebecca's and Adam's bottoms after being presented with their "prizes", but Angie had taken her there to show her a much older volume.

"See? That's me after I won my first brat raffle." Angie said. "That's what I thought we talked about that day. I know I told you that my skirt had been raised and I can't understand why you don't remember it. Maybe I wasn't as explicated as I might have been, but would you have been? I was sure you were following the undertone of that conservation."

Faced with the choice between admitting that she had missed the thrust of the conversation and forgiving the grudge over a plan that Rebecca and Adam had managed to screw up, Lucy found herself forgiving her friend.

As for their neighbours, they saw that raffle as the event that sanded the rough edges off of the Appleton family. The event when Rebecca had began her (unwelcome) shift to Becky. As for Adam, over that Christmas break stay with the Eatons he proved that Valerie had been right.


Easter brought a new problem, as Rebecca discovered that most of her class was selling tickets in the name of Becky Appleton. Lucy bought only a single book from both of them, but once more Rebecca had the most tickets of any girl in the school.

Once more, she won.

Moving on trembling feet, Rebecca rechecked the belt on her slacks as she approached the PTA room. Opening the door, she was stunned to see a male exchange student's bare bottom being strapped over the lap one of the PTA women.

"Come in and close the door." Angie said, grabbing Rebecca's arm and jerking her into the room. She apologised as she closed the door saying: "Sorry about that, but we don't need the entire school to hear this."

"Um, how...."

"Oh, this used to be a music room back in the 60s, and most of the soundproofing's still here." Angie told her. "Now I don't know who sent you here now, but as you can see we're not ready for you."

"Um, should I..."

"Change?" Angie said, completing the sentence for her. "Your mother thought you might want to, if you won, so she sent this bag for you."

Tearing her attention from the exchange student's strapping, Angie tried to focus on the bag. It was the bag that her mother sometimes took to the gym and it was mostly empty, holding only the skirt that Rebecca had worn at Christmas and a skimpy thong.

"You can change up in that washroom." Angie said. "Actually, it would be sensible for you to go there even if you don't want to change; you shouldn't be seeing that strapping, anymore than he should see you get your prize. Now get."

"But..."

"Becky, I said get." Angie told her in a voice firmer than Lucy had ever used on her daughter.

Rebecca got.


The strapping seemed to last forever. It was long enough for Rebecca to change several times, once even standing with her blouse up and only the thong on. Looking in the mirror she saw how it disappeared into her bottom crack and remembered her brother's story about their 'if I see them I spank' policy for bottom cheeks.

Minutes passed after the sound of the strapping ended. Rebecca stayed in the bathroom until someone came to fetch her.

Angie smiled to see that the winner was wearing the skirt.

"Okay Becky, come here." Angie said, sitting and patting her lap.

As Rebecca bent, Angie flipped up the girl's skirt to reveal a pair of bikini panties.

"Becky, did you want to change?" Angie asked, looking down at her covered bottom.

"Um, I did change." Rebecca answered.

"I mean do you want to change anything else." Angie clarified. "Now that you know for sure that there aren't any male witnesses to this."

"Um, no?" Rebecca squeaked.

Angie hooked a finger in Rebecca's panties and asked:

"Would you like me to pull these down? It would be no trouble to do so. Remember how I pulled them down before?"

"Um, no?" Rebecca offered.

Angie sighed.

"Then I need to help you move a bit. Stand up Becky, but not all the way."

Rebecca half stood, then was moved back into position with her skirt down.

"Are you ready?" Angie asked.

"Um, no?" Rebecca suggested.

Then she gasped as the hairbrush made contact with her bottom. It took her a long moment to register that the contact was light, barely a pat.

"Don't be a brat." Angie said, delivering five light pats, covering most of the seat of Rebecca's dress as she patted. "Now up, it's done."

"Is that it?" Rebecca asked, relief flooding through her.

Relief that fled as Angie stopped her from rising.

"It is, but it doesn't have to be that way Becky." Angie told her. "Not if you don't want it to be. If you wanted to you could change again and we could start fresh, pretending that your prize was never presented."

"Um, no? Can it be over now? Please?"

"Then it's over." Angie said, helping Rebecca from her lap. "Now if you want to you can change back into your slacks."

Rebecca nodded, fleeing to the bathroom. As she changed, she flashed the mirror to confirm that her bottom was completely unmarked. Almost giddy with joy, Rebecca left the PTA room with a smile on her face.


A smile that lasted until she returned home, where she found her mother and Angie. A pair of wine bottles, one empty and one half full, testified that they weren't drinking coffee in the otherwise empty house.

Seeing them drinking so early in the day was an unprecedented sight.

"Um, Mom? Angie? Is something wrong?" Rebecca asked.

"No, yes, no, maybe." Lucy admitted. "You see, and this doesn't happen when it's just the highest total in the class, but when someone wins with the highest total in the school, then it's tradition. Practically law. I wish it wasn't, but it is."

"Um, what is?"

"The christening of the hairbrush." Angie explained. "Putting it to good use. The use it was intended for. If you had only changed the right way at school, but you didn't, so it has to happen at home."

"Um, what?"

"It's a tradition with practically the force of law." Lucy explained.

"Um, I don't understand." Rebecca admitted. "How do you christen a hairbrush?"

The two women were there to explain. When Rebecca was finally released from her mother's lap, she understood everything she needed to about christening a hairbrush. Standing there, rubbing at the soreness, Rebecca vowed that if she won again she would christen the brush at school. At least there she didn't have to stand in the corner of the PTA room with her pants around her ankles.

The only saving grace of that day was that her brother wasn't there to see (or at least hear) the hairbrush being christened. He was at the Eaton house, and Rebecca would have been shocked to learn that he was standing in his own corner there. His jeans were still up, but they had proved little protection from the strap as, following a long conversation after the Christmas break, Lucy and Valerie had both agreed that his brat strap should be stored at the Eaton house. Lucy had thought that it was there for the Eaton boys, but by the Easter break had accepted that when Adam was there he was treated almost like another son. Almost, with the only the only real difference being that Adam's jeans stayed up even when the Eaton boys' pants came down.


That second brush was only used at its christening, but as the summer approached, Rebecca (now Becky to most of the school) discovered that there was a plan afoot to see her make a hat trick, winning all three brushes. When she complained to her teacher about it, the woman just hugged her and told her that she worried too much - before delivering a trio of love taps to Rebecca's bottom.

Which were the first love taps that Rebecca had ever even seen the woman give.

As the drawing approached, Rebecca resigned herself to having the most tickets, only to be shocked when one of the school's top students won the raffle with her one free ticket.

Coming home that last day of school, Rebecca was almost giddy with relief. Relief that lasted until she discovered Angie was once more drinking during the day.

"Um, mom? I didn't win the brush this time." Rebecca said, hoping to clarify any confusion.

"I know, but you still had a near record number of votes." Lucy said. "For the third time in a row, invoking another tradition."

"But..."

"Get up to your room and change into your PJs." Lucy ordered, brandishing a familiar looking brush. "This is the first brush that you ever won, and it's going to be used in this house today."

"But..."

"Now, or you can strip naked and get your spanking right here." Lucy declared. "And if that happens you'll go in that corner then go out bare to the backyard to cut a switch."

"But..."

"You don't have to change into PJs." Angie clarified. "You can strip completely off in your room or wait just in your underwear, but this time no one's wrestling with your slacks."

"But..."

"Your room, now, or else." Lucy ordered. "This is happening whether you want it to or not. Just be glad that your brother isn't here to see it."

Tears in her eyes, Rebecca rushed to her room. When she arrived there, she discovered a set PJs laid out on her bed, waiting for her to wear them. New PJs, ones that she had never seen before. Seeing them now, Rebecca's heart sank. This wasn't just some 'drinking during the day' foolishness but a careful though out plan.

A plan that might see Rebecca wearing these PJs in the future, as her mother didn't believe in buying clothes that would only be worn once.


As Rebecca was discovering the new PJs, Adam was making his own discovery. That in the Eaton house, when came to certain misdeeds, everyone involved got bare bottom strappings. Sons, nephews, and even visitors like Adam.

Goodgulf

[pa1ra]

Thanks Goodgulf, for this well written, educational story

[goodgulf]

I'm glad you enjoyed it.