Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy and The Vampire Slayer or the characters that appear within the show. I don’t make any money from the writing or posting of this story. Twenty five years ago my favorite show of all time premiered and now I want to share a serial loosely based on the eighteen year-old characters and older as their adventures continue from the year of high school graduation on into an exploration of the college years.

All characters depicted at a time when they are over eighteen year-old, college age. Each part of The Scooby Gang from Alyson Hannigan, Willow. Each adventure in this re-imagined serial has the common denominator of sore bottoms from a witch or Scooby Gang member.

In this case Cordelia. who, by the way hooks up with Xander in this latest chapter. I got the idea from the Xander and Cordelia scene where they fall in love in the basement as they are in peril by an unwanted houseguest. I will keep adding to the existing Scooby gang Tales. Enjoy and please vote accordingly using latest chapter as a barometer the writing is improved and continues to get better.

Cordelia angrily turned red in the face and squirmed in her black with white polka dot short skirt in the varnished wooden chair in the lawyer’s office. However, no matter how much she pouted and stomped her foot like a petulant child her husband refused to let her have the prized blue and white vase.

He was quite perplexed by her insistence on being rewarded the vase in the marriage settlement. The meeting ended as they shook hands and Cordelia sashayed her cute skirt-clad ass out of the office without the vase.

They had seen the vase created from raw orange clay from the fertile hills of Central California. Mesmerized and excited they had watched all day as a lump of clay had been formed on the Potter’s Wheel, hand, glazed in a kiln, then hand painted with a blue and white motif. They had made several stops back in between lunch and hiking down the crystal clear river to be amazed as the beautiful artwork took shape. The craftsman signed the piece on the bottom of the vase along with the date 2001.

It was a time of budding romance and when the honeymooners got home, Cordelia’s husband made a point of filling the vase with a bouquet of flowers several times a month. Cordelia would lovingly water them and the vase and fresh flowers symbolized their deep hope for love that survived the cracks of life.

The couple agreed to the divorce settlement with Cordelia getting the French landscape watercolors of the Eiffel Tower and the village nearby. So, why pitch a fit about a vase spun from mud base was worth a mere fifty dollars? The watercolor paintings she desired and got were worth ten times the blue and white vase. They parted ways and he wondered why Cordelia had grasp the vase so tightly her lawyer had to pry it out of her hands. To him, the vase was priceless. It represented a successful union that had lasted three years and six months until it fell apart.

Was it possible deep down in her heart she still had a warm spot for her now ex-husband? He had refused to relinquish the vase because it meant the world to him. It was a keepsake of a time he felt graced with the love of Cordelia. He planned to look at the vase and remember the good times. The vase would have a prominent spot in the living room they once shared and a part of Cordelia would never leave him.

Xander, always love-struck had made it a point to put Cordelia on a pedestal and make her his queen. To this end he had bought her French panties made of the finest silk and spoiled the minx-brat including indulging her fine pallet for a taste of the grape, especially Bordeaux wines, fine cheeses on crackers which he served her in bed. He had waited on her hand and foot as the saying goes. She was so beautiful and her bottom was so perfect he thought someone should sculpture it so everyone could see it though out eternity.

After everything he did, it was not been enough to keep the relationship from withering on the vine and lose its brilliance, creativity and spontaneity. He knew life would go on without Cordelia snuggled close to him as he drank in her hourglass figure while her shiny long brown haired head resting on his chest.

Her signature gold barrette she liked to wear in her hair shined in the sunlight from the loft window lighting up the vase on the end table next to their bed. The vase had held a special romantic place in the loft and in their hearts. The vase was his special keepsake and it would have a place of honor on his bookcase.

The winter months gave way to spring and yet Cordelia’s ex-husband could not bring himself to take the vase off the bookshelf and more practically fill it with fresh flowers. That would just be too painful and hurt too much. He lovingly dusted and handled the vase more like a precious family heirloom.

As he entered his apartment one night he heard a noise as the large elevator doors opened to his apartment. It was the sound of breaking glass and his entrance startled the petite figure dressed in a short black skirt with matching tights and her hair bunched up under a toque. He listened as she made her escape noisily descended the fire escape of the brick building.

Vander and Cordelia had never put in an alarm system after all not many burglars desired to walk up eight floors of steep iron steps. The old loft building had key access only, so using the elevator was out. He wondered what the thief was after in his apartment.

Then, something unusual out of the ordinary happened, an event that had not happened since the California Gold Rush in 1798. An earthquake centered near Sunnydale, California sent jarring shock waves down through San Diego all the way down to Monterey. The loft shook on its century foundation. When he got home from The Sunnydale Observer where he and Cordelia still worked, the precious vase lay broken on the floor in front of the bookcase.

In inspecting it to ascertain if it could be repaired, he soon spotted something shiny and rolled up down deep in the vase. Maybe this is why Cordelia had wanted the vase so desperately, he thought. She must have accidentally pushed the roll up photos too far into the mouth of the vase and could no longer retrieve them.

The Polaroid instant pictures were in ‘living’ color. They revealed a secret life; Cordelia had been living since they were married three years ago. In the first Polaroid Cordelia sat in her office chair facing away from her desk in her cubbyhole. Her slightly curled brown hair hung down to her shoulders along with a short tight black skirt. Cordelia had whimsically slightly opened her legs for the photographer and he had captured a picture of her panty crotch. He saw the words panty infraction written in marker at the bottom of the picture.

This time the words explained why Cordelia was allowing herself to be photographed. “Naughty Girl Gets Her Need Met.” It all now made sense, but who had she confided her need for him?

The final picture answered his questions. The photo showed the shiny curled long brown hair with her gold barrette, down to her sculptured back that made the line of her body ending with her crack and bottom that was a work of art. However, her black skirt now clung to her lower back out of the way. Her round pert bottom resembled a red Washington Apple.

Cordelia had endured a vigorous spanking, and the blotchy marks suggested that someone had used a hairbrush during the correction of the panty infraction. It had a caption as well that explained all of the pictures that had preceded it. Written at the bottom in marker it read: “John’s Hanky Panky Time, Up Next,” He immediately suspected it was the ad manager they both worked for at the newspaper.

The pictures told a story that progressed from the panty infraction, before creamy white bottom all the way through to the colorful raspberry blush spanked bottom afterwards. He had mixed emotions about finding the pictures. She had kept this activity hidden even though she was obviously a willing participant. A feeling of elation went through him that he could scratch Cordelia’s itch and finally give her what she needed.

His heart raced almost beating out of his chest as he drove over to her house behind Ralphs Supermarket. Her silver Mercedes convertible with its distinctive roof that resembles a rear wing was in the driveway. He was filled with hope and fright as he parked and started up the concrete driveway to the house with shutters like a French Chateau a few miles past the Eiffel tower on top of the Eiffel Tower. He knew what Cordelia needed from him was not an insipid go along to get along man, not a man who would treat her like a queen.

She wanted an alpha male who hold her accountable and spank her gorgeous bottom a brilliant red like a radiant sunset. Was it divine intervention that his clandestine interest in spanking activities matched her need to take a good hard spanking? Time would tell as Cordelia opened the door, saw the roll of pictures and became weak in the knees.

She invited him in and after they sat down, she admitted she had broken the window trying to retrieve the vase with the secret pictures. Xander thought fast on his feet. It was now or never to take the plunge. His voice was firm and deep as he told Cordelia to get her good wooden hairbrush and to return to the sofa. She would be over his knee for breaking the loft window and trying to steal the vase.

The rest fell into place as if it was destined for their love to be reborn. Xander took back Cordelia that night with his love and a strong dose of discipline.

A New Life; Xander and Cordelia

Cordelia thought she had been well- spanked, but her assumption had been in error. Read on and you will see the difference when Xander is the one lambasting her former cheerleader, shapely, pert arse. And, a fine ass it was indeed!

“Alright, Cordelia, it’s late go upstairs and get ready for bed.”

“What, no I don’t want too, so I won’t. You’re just my ‘sissy’ husband,” Cordelia said snidely with a sneer across her face and her hands on her hips in a position of defiance.

“Alright, Cordelia, as your husband you get your butt off the sofa and get upstairs to bed before I take my hairbrush to your bottom!”