"MAKING AMENDS" by the Crimson Kid [Category: First/Last] 

 (All rights reserved. This story's setting is March of 2004 at the
Royalton residence in a residential subdivision in the U.S.A.) 

   "Candy's a forgiving person," Barbara Royalton informed her husband,
"That's the only factor in your favor. Your conduct was inexcusable."

   Facing into the bedroom corner, the seat flap of his baby blue
'Doctor Denton's' unbuttoned to expose his well-striped posterior, Paul
gulped. "But, honey--" 
   "The only butt I'm concerned with is yours," she interrupted, "Which
will be paying for your rudeness." 
   "I didn't mean to hurt Candy's feelings," he muttered. 

   "How should she react to your poor sportsmanship, whining about her
caning you 'too hard' when it was all in fun?" Barbara snorted. 
   The doorbell chimed. 
   "Candy," she noted, "On time for your strapping." 
   "She's going to watch?" 
   "Absolutely." Barbara departed, heading downstairs, then reappeared
momentarily accompanied by Candy. 

   "Hello, Paul," Candy greeted him, "Ready for a lesson in manners?" 
   "Yes, ma'am." He shivered. 
   "Mind if I witness your bare bottom being blistered?" she inquired
rhetorically.
   "No, ma'am." 
   Striding over to him, she grasped the razor strap atop his palms then
air-snapped it sharply with a wrist-flick--CRACK! 

   "Nice weapon," Candy clucked. "How does it feel plastering your
defenseless derriere?" 
   Paul shuddered. "Like flames from hell, ma'am." 
   "Exactly what he deserves," Barbara interjected. "I'll take that,
Candy, while Paul assumes his proper punishment position." She accepted
the strap. "Time for hiney-scorching hellfire." 

   Soon she stood at bedside facing her prone husband's naked buttocks,
starkly elevated over an inverted overstuffed reading pillow, while
raising her supple instrument of correction. 
   "While I'm painting your seat with another layer of red-hot stripes,
darling, I want you to consider what Candy's friendship means to you." 
   "Yes, ma'am." 
   "Yours means so much to me, Paul," Candy said sincerely. 

   Then Barbara administered eighty-four whipping-sharp strokes of her
wickedly-flexible strap across Paul's quivering, dancing bare
buttcheeks. The deliberate, devastating leathering left him wailing and
blubbering childishly while his pretty blonde co-worker observed the
shameless howling as his teardrops splattered the bedspread. 
   During that chastisement, Paul reflected on how much he enjoyed and
appreciated Candy's heartfelt comradeship at work, realizing he needed
the loyalty, support and affection he received from her there. Her
teasing behavior, at times she knew his behind was sore or was soon to
be walloped, was always fondly playful--even when she was the woman
responsible for his warmly-tingling posterior. 

   "Stand up, young man," Barbara instructed her sobbing spouse, "Face
Candy." 
   "Boy, did your ever get a good bare-ass licking," the blonde
tittered. 
   "Ahhh-I duh-deserved ih-it," Paul admitted. "Pluh-Please fuh-forgive
me, muh-ma'am." 
   Leaning forward, she kissed his tear-streaked cheeks. "You're fully
forgiven, sweetheart."

   "You'll still be getting it long and hard on your bare bottom from
Candy at the upcoming Sisterhood meeting," his wife announced, "Plus
receiving your usual 'reminder' hairbrushing Monday night." 
   "Cuh-Could Candy gih-give me th-that spanking, ma'am?" 
   Barbara nodded smilingly. 
   "W-Would you, ma'am?" Paul asked Candy. 
   "With pleasure." She dimpled impishly, imagining the good-natured
workplace teasing she'd be doing. 
   "Let's go downstairs, Candy," Barbara suggested. "Corner,
honeybun--palms up." 

   After he complied, she placed her Spencer paddle on his waist-level
hands. 
   "I'll be back..." 
   {The End}