Chapter 18

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” I asked defensively when Mrs. Hannigan caught me trying to sneak back to my house in nothing but a pink leather collar and a pair of high heels. I had been caught naked and I was embarrassed. My natural reaction was to try to turn things around and glare at them for daring to question me.

It didn’t work.

Mrs. Hannigan has a turned up nose, gray hair, and always has an arrogant and aloof look on her face like she is royalty and is quite displeased. She was always hassling my mother for the rent, and we tried to avoid her whenever we could. I would have avoided her on principle even if we didn’t owe her rent because she could be annoyingly pretentious.

I was contemplating all the possible ways I may turn out when I grow up after this training began. I’d probably become some successful Hollywood model who has the world at her feet with dozens of millionaire suitors chasing after me. However, my mom seemed to believe I would become a raging, manipulative bitch who hurts everyone around her and pushes them away before they can hurt or disappoint me. She said I would just use and manipulate people until they could do nothing for me and then discard them. I will admit that did sound a lot like me right now.

Having said that, I’d still rather grow up to be the manipulative bitch than to become a stodgy, gossiping, stuck-up biddy like Mrs. Hannigan who looks down her nose at everybody and everything.

She had a girl with her that I recognized from high school. Vicky Waxerman was a little older than me. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes and instantly reminded me of Nelly Olsen the stuck up, spoiled brat in Little House on the Prairie in her manner and her appearance. She was very active in conservative student politics and was a staunch Ronald Reagan supporter. She was also captain of the Bible team or whatever church-related prayer group we had at school. I didn’t know what they called themselves.

“Blair Conner? I would never have expected you to be prancing naked around the yard like a common hussy! What has gotten into you!” Vicky said. She had a southern accent but not the hick-billy Alabama accent that the Donaldsons spoke with. She sounded more like William F. Buckley if he was a pretentious teenage girl.

“Why are you here?” I asked her as I covered my tits with my hands. It was an effort that was completely futile since they had already seen me naked, and I was caught flat-footed. They were blocking my path to my front door, so there was no way to run around them unless I ran all the way around my mother’s Mercury Monarch.

“My niece is staying with me for the Summer? Does that meet your approval? Now perhaps, you can explain why you are outside without any clothing? I expect this barbaric display of your brothers and cousin, but they are much younger than you,” Mrs. Hannigan explained. It made a lot of sense that Vicki was her niece. She was a distilled version of Mrs. Hannigan to be sure.

I can normally come up with an excellent lie with a moments notice, but it was so completely over the top to be caught streaking that I wasn’t sure what to say. I was thinking about singing “Oh yes they call her the streak, boogidy, boogidy!” and pretending this was a Ray Steven’s prank while I jiggled past them to the door with a wave and a wink.

Instead, I did the last thing anyone would expect of me. I told the truth.

“I was cleaning up Mr. Greenbaum’s house and spilled something all over my clothes. My mom sent me to the house to get some clothespins, Ma’am,” I explained and even curtsied as I said it. I wasn’t even sure why I did that since my mother wasn’t’ around to see my curtsy and I was supposed to do it when I first greet someone.

“She sent you to get new clothes or just clothespins to hang them up?” Mrs. Hannigan regarded me suspiciously and looked me up and down. I could see a look of scorn for me as she observed my hairless pussy. She obviously considered that to be improper for many reasons.

“Just told me to get clothespins, Ma’am,” I said. I could have lied, and that would have made a lot more sense. I don’t know why I didn’t.

“You silly billy, you need clothes to hang on clothespins,” Vicky smirked at me. She had the same turned up nose that her Aunt had, and when she smiled, it felt like she was looking down on me.

“She probably needs them to hang up her dirty clothes,” Mrs. Hannigan said with a snooty tone to her niece.

“You don’t hang up dirty clothes, Aunt Hannigan,” Vicky smiled at her Aunt ruefully.

“Don’t be pedantic, my dear girl. I am simply trying to determine if this little tramp’s story makes sense. It doesn’t explain why she is naked,” Mrs. Hannigan said to her niece.

“I don’t even know what pedantic means,” Vicky shrugged.

“I’ll get you a thesaurus this summer, and you can look it up. While you are at it, you can look up the meaning of the word perfidious!” Mrs. Hannigan told her niece sternly before telling me she would have a word with my mother.

I didn’t have time for the two of them to get into a debate about why I had to get the clothespins. I was nervous and humiliated having been caught outside naked, and I saw cars coming and a few bikes riding up the sidewalk.

“Yes, please do that, but I really must go,” I said, and I tried to brush past them to my door.

Mrs. Hannigan was not a small woman, and she barred my way. “I should speak to her now. I want to get to the bottom of this, and I can take the opportunity to ask her about the rent. The 1st is rapidly approaching. I don’t see why you are in a hurry all of a sudden. You went outside naked. Now, you seem nervous that people might discover you? Why not wave to the car passing by?” she said as she waved to the car. The people in the car honked and kept driving. They were young guys, and they could see my bare chest from the road. I could tell they were cracking up once they realized I was topless.

“The clothespins are punishment for being rude to my mother, Ma’am,” I blurted out. I didn’t want Mrs. Hannigan spoiling our ‘delight’ game, and I didn’t know what else to say.

“How so?” Vicky seemed genuinely enthusiastic to hear about this.

“If I am rude than I wear them on my tits and clit. Now if you will excuse me, if I am slow returning with them, she said she’d make me wear a fourth clothespin!” I explained.

Vicky asked where that fourth one would be placed. It was as if she was trying to stall me to get me in trouble.

“I don’t know, Miss Vicky, I guess on my butthole?” I answered plainly.

Vicky feigned shock at my vulgar language and said that proper ladies don’t speak that way.

“If she was a proper lady, she wouldn’t be outside in the nude,” Mrs. Hannigan said. She had already worked out that my mother was at Mr. Greenbaum’s house and insisted on going over there to check out my story.

“Fine, I am not lying,” I said. It was the first time I think I ever said that I wasn’t lying when I actually wasn’t lying. I had also called Vicky “Miss Vicky” without anyone being around to make me do it. It just slipped out. Vicky didn’t even seem to notice what I called her, but that was probably because I was trying to get as far away from the two pretentious women as possible.

I hustled into the house as quickly as I could in heels. I dashed to the backyard to grab nine clothespins. I stopped for a moment and considered bringing a dozen. I didn’t want the clothespins to go on my asshole! I wasn’t even sure if that was possible. I grabbed a dozen anyway because my mom would be rightfully angry. I took so long and also that Mrs. Hannigan showed up when I got back.

I raced outside and didn’t stop to consider the cars or anyone who might see me. Instead, I darted over to Mr. Greenbaum’s house, and I had to knock on the door to be let in.

Honey came to the door naked and opened the door. “It was just fart face, Mom,” she smiled at me and winked. “She really took a long time,” she smirked as she tried to get me in trouble. She had red marks all around her ass, tits, and pussy from the brush beating she had received.

“It isn’t my fault. Mrs. Hannigan and Vicky Waxerman wasted my time asking me a bunch of questions,” I started to defend myself as I dashed my bare butt in the house once the door was open.

Mrs. Hannigan cleared her throat. She was seated on the couch next to my mother, and the two were talking.

“Oh Hi, Ma’am,” I waved awkwardly as Mrs Hannigan and her niece glared at me with abject scorn.

“Your mother was just telling me that she has arranged for discipline this summer. When she made the initial offer to have you wash my car, mow my lawn and clean my house, I assumed it was some attempt at abeyance of the rent on her part. Not that your mother has told me about your escapades and assures me you will be supervised then I am happy to host you in my home,” she said.

My mom had made Candy and Honey go over why they were in training while I was at the house getting the clothespins. Mrs. Hannigan had heard enough to think we were all on our way to hell without stopping at Go if we didn’t change our ways immediately.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” I looked at my feet to avoid looking at her pretentious smile. Vicky was on the couch next to her looking at me like the cat that ate the canary.

“I could probably put out the word at my church that the girls are looking for work this summer,” Vicky offered politely to my mother. Vicky was trying to suck up to my mother and at the same time enjoying our humiliation with a pretentious self-satisfaction.

Mr. Greenbaum was just a dirty old man but Mrs. Hannigan and her niece had a completely different sense of satisfaction that uppity bitches like Candy, Honey and I were getting our cumuppance.

“Would you? Let’s see if Mrs. Hannigan approves of our service first. I am sure a woman of her distinction will expect nothing less than spotless cleaning and excellent care of her lawn and garden,” Mom seemed like she was trying to suck up to Mrs. Hannigan!

“Well, that is true,” Mrs. Hannigan appeared quite flattered and then looked at us. “Your mother tells us that this disciplinary measure has helped your attitude. That remains to be seen, but I’ve always been in favor of corporal punishment for insolent children,” she said as she looked at Vicky.

“It is why I am so well behaved. I don’t want to end up like Blair Conner, Mandy Sonneborne or Julie Simmons,” she said. She had a habit of always calling everyone by their first and last names like she was telling the teacher on us, and she wanted to be very specific about who should be in trouble.

“That is a good idea, Miss Vicky,” I tried not to sound sarcastic as I replied to her.

“The girls are in constant discipline at home. They are not permitted to talk back. They have to refer to even their peers as Miss or Mister,” my mom explained which pleased Mrs. Hannigan greatly. She was a stickler for proper protocol and respect.

“We aren’t peers. I am a grade higher than Blair, and we don’t run in the same circles,” Vicky looked down upon me.

“All the more reason for her to call you Ma’am or Miss Vicky,” my mom smiled at her. I could tell my mom didn’t really like Vicky or Mrs. Hannigan, but she was humoring the two of them.

“I believe I prefer Ma’am or Miss Victoria,” Vicky stated like a formal request.

My mom told her that was not a problem and explained our new names. “I am trying to make their behavior and demeanor match their names,” my mom explained.

“I am not a fan of new age parenting techniques but at its root good old fashioned discipline never hurt anyone,” Mrs. Hannigan approved.

“We were just about to finish caning Candy, and then it will be Sugar’s turn. You are welcome to stay and observe,” My mother offered with a smile.

“I wouldn’t want to impose, but I could be inclined to remain a bit if it is alright with Mr. Greenbaum?” she smiled at him.

They were about the same age, and as far as I could tell, they were both unmarried. It seemed like a good match.

“Please call me Norm, can I get you something to drink?” he asked her politely.

“I do not drink, but I would love some tea,” she said.

My mom made me return to the punishment position next to Honey while I waited for Candy to get spanked. She was on her thirtieth swat, and Mr. Greebaum was hitting her tit with the brush when Mrs. Hannigan asked if she could have a try.

My mother saw nothing wrong with that and volunteered to let Mrs. Hannigan spank us anytime she thought we were doing something wrong. I knew that would be quite a bit more frequent than Mr. Greenbaum. The nice old man would spank us.

“What about me?” Vicky asked.

“You are older than them so obviously if you see them doing something wrong, then I don’t see why not,” my mother smiled at Vicky.

“What kinds of things should we punish them for?” Mr. Greenbaum was staring at our naked bodies when he asked the question.

“Lying, manipulation, sticking their tongue out at you, rolling their eyes, being sarcastic, throwing rocks at you, I would imagine that the list is fairly extensive. I trust your judgment,” my mother said. That met Mrs. Hannigan and Vicky’s approval completely.

Mrs. Hannigan struck Candy across the tit with the back of the brush, and I saw Candy physically shake. Her tits bounced, and she yelped. “Ow, my tit! Oh, fuck!! Oh shit, that was right on the nipple! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Candy backed away from Mrs. Hannigan.

My mom saw red. Candy had stood there and taken her medicine even when my mom spanked her, and that hurt a lot. If the way Mrs. Hannigan hit her across the tit had hurt Candy that badly it must have really stung.

“Get back there and stick your tits out. This isn’t a pleasant exercise and do not use that language!”

“Oh no, no, I was goofing before. That hurt, no,” Candy was seriously not joking around. She was holding her tit and caressing it.

“Do you need to be restrained?” my mother asked as she pulled a pair of real handcuffs from her purse. “I can see I am going to have to bring rope, duct tape, and clothespins with me everywhere I go!” she stood up and cuffed Candy’s hands behind her back in a quick power-move and held her in place.

“Please, no! Please, no!” Candy started to shiver and shake as my mom held her in place so that Mrs. Hannigan could smack her.

“Stop your whining and cool your tits. You are embarrassing me!” my mom told her. Candy was sniveling, and she stopped struggling.

It was freaking me out because I was about to get 50 swats and if any of them were as bad as what Candy felt, then I was going to be in pure agony.

Mrs. Hannigan struck her across the tits again, and Candy yelped but counted through gritted teeth. After three more swats, my mom was able to release Candy but kept her hands cuffed behind her back. She received ten swats on each tit and snot was running down her nose, and she was crying when it was all over, but she looked thankful.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hannigan, I don’t think my tits will ever be the same,” she mumbled.

“Okay Sugar, I don’t have any more handcuffs with me so are you going to be a little baby or are you going to get across Mrs. Hannigan’s lap and let her teach you to behave?” my mom asked.

“I’ll let her teach me to behave, Ma’am,” I said, and I draped my naked body across Mrs. Hannigan.

The first swat made a loud noise and sizzled into my ass, but it wasn’t worse than my mom’s paddle Luther.

“One, thank you, Mrs. Hannigan,” I counted the spanking on my ass for her.

The second swat was loud and made my ass jiggle, but it wasn’t the agonizing, soul-crushing, pain that Candy had let on. She wasn’t spanking me softly, but I couldn’t be sure if she was just trying to build up anticipation so that when she finally unleashed hell’s fury on me, I would not see it coming. The anticipation was making it worse.

“Two, thank you, Mrs. Hannigan,” I counted softly.

“Why are you being punished, Sugar?” my mom asked me. I wasn’t able to answer after the third swat because Mrs. Hannigan asked my mother what she was doing.

“I make them count each swat and thank whoever is spanking them. That helps prevent the person spanking them from feeling guilty about delivering any pain to their ass. This is a lesson of love to teach them to behave and not abuse,” my mom said that she wanted us to learn to appreciate it.

Mrs. Hannigan said she understood and approved. “I am in no danger of feeling any sympathy for your daughter. She has been a shrewful and pretentious bimbo from day one. I am pleased to see you taking her in hand. I meant, why are you asking her questions while I spank her?” she said.

“That is my affirmation technique. I ask questions during the spanking about why they think they are being punished. If they are grateful for the discipline. What they are learning. If you ask while they are experiencing pain, there is a tendency to get a glimmer of an honest response. I expect a full and complete answer to all of my questions,” my mom explained.

“I would like to try that,” Mrs. Hannigan said, and she spanked me again while asking why I was being punished.

“Five Ma’am, I am being punished because as I told you earlier, I was rude to my mother,” I answered.

“That was four. You didn’t count the last one, and as your mother said, I expect a full and complete response to my inquiries. You’ve made clear the clothespins was for your rudeness. Are you telling me that the only reason you are being punished with a spanking as well is rudeness?” she asked.

“Four Ma’am, I am being punished because after Candy and Honey had an argument, I purposely tried to get attention for myself, and then I intentionally brought the broom when my mother asked for the brush you are holding,” I answered. It was intensely humiliating to have to give up one of my spankings and go back to four and also to have to clarify why I was being punished in such detail.

“If you had brought me the broom I am sure I could have found a use for it,” Mrs. Hannigan suggested.

My mom said she had no idea Mrs. Hannigan had this side to her.

“What side? One that doesn’t suffer foolish girls? You have never in the two years that you have lived here attempted to get to know me. I would imagine there are many things about me that would interest you. There may even be things about you that I would come to admire although for the life of me I am not sure what they could be,” In Mrs. Hannigan’s dour way she was trying to offer to get to know my mother and become friends.

“I would like that,” My mom smiled at her. My mother told her that she was going out this Friday. “I really need to go out this weekend. I’ve asked some local kids to babysit Buddy, Lewis, and Jenny but I don’t’ think they can handle the girls. Do you think perhaps you would mind babysitting them?” she asked.

All the while I was getting spanked on the ass and counting.

“I am surprised you waited this long to ask. If you had asked sooner, perhaps your daughter would not have had full run of the house to throw wicked parties. Naturally, I am happy to oblige you, but I don’t advise you going out when there is still rent to be paid,” she said.

“Don’t worry. I am a city employee. Teacher’s don’t make much, but we get paid once a month. It would be a huge help if you were to do this for me. You do understand that the girls must be disciplined at all times, though?”

“Yes, I believe I can accommodate that. I assume that in exchange for my babysitting you will provide a discount on my lawn care, house cleaning, and car washing?” she said.

“How about while you babysit they will work for free on whatever projects you need completed?” my mom smiled at Mrs. Hannigan.

The next swat was much harder, much louder, and much more painful but it didn’t make me cry, or snot come out of my nose. I started to wonder if Candy was faking or if perhaps Mrs. Hannigan was waiting to torture my tits and was just warming up my ass. I was genuinely curious how much worse the pain would feel across my ass.

I have to admit that Luther was a painful, burdensome paddle. My mom only used the flat side on our bodies, and there was a ridged side that she still hadn’t used on us. The pain would go away after 15 minutes, and then there would be this rush of endorphins that wash over you. My ass, tits, and pussy would get very warm and throb and tingle. It wasn’t the same kind of pain as the pinching of the clothespin. It was blunt, heavy, and brutal, but it spread the sensations out across my body in a wide area instead of a single concentrated pain point like the clothespins. I didn’t want to admit I liked being spanked or that I wished Mrs. Hannigan would hit me like she did Candy just once so I could see what it felt like.

My mom asked Mrs. Hannigan if she wanted me on the floor, holding my ankles, or standing up.

“That is extremely vulgar and obscene,” Mrs. Hannigan said while she considered me on my back with my feet apart as wide as they could go holding my ankles in a “V” position.

“Yes, the idea is that it is to humiliate them,” my mom explained that it also gave the best possible access to spank me on the pussy.

“How would it humiliate them? They are vulgar and obscene harlots. Surely, they thrive on the attention and the spectacle of their own display.”

“When it is within my daughter’s control how and when she displays her body, she displays as little skin as she needs to display to get what she wants. I’ve found that for vulgar, obscene harlots such as them you must place them in a far more humiliating position then they are comfortable with for it to even register,” My mom made me demonstrate on the floor.

“She appears excited!” Mrs. Hannigan noticed my wet pussy, and tender, puffy nipples were getting hard and sticking straight up. Vicky scrunched her nose as she looked down at me in disgust.

“Yes, she is. She can’t help her initial excitement in that position, but after you finish spanking her, then we shall see. She can always be placed in the corner to cool off,” my mom said sternly.

“You don’t mind these girls posing in this obscene position?” Mrs. Hannigan considered Mr. Greenbaum, who was quietly observing the punishment with fascination.

“If it is necessary, then who am I to say anything?” Mr. Greenbaum shrugged it off.

“It is your home. You are the king of this castle. Does seeing this girl hold herself open like a common whore without any shame as she exposes the inner folds of her womanhood and her fundament bother you?” she asked him patiently.

“What is a fundament?” Vicky asked while scrunching her freckled nose. She had a general idea it meant asshole.