"IT WORKS BOTH WAYS" by the Crimson Kid [Category: Adult]
{508 words}
(All rights reserved. This story's setting is mid-November of 1980 at Brittany Sinclair's residence, somewhere in the U.S.A.)
"Both ways?" My friend Brittany shook her head. "No, it doesn't--I'm the only disciplinarian in our relationship. You know that, Miriam, you helped us work out our understanding."
"That's not what I mean," I explained. "You both have responsibilities, Brittie."
The lithe brunette sighed. "Don't I have the discretion NOT to discipline, isn't that part of the deal?"
"Absolutely," I agreed, "If you decide to grant forgiveness without corrective chastisement."
She leaned back against the couch. "So what's the problem then?"
My gaze met her deep brown eyes. "The problem is that Paul didn't feel forgiven yesterday and he still doesn't. Forgiveness doesn't involve withholdng closeness and affection, but he says that you've done that to him."
Brittany broke eye contact. "He lost his temper and was rude to my mother, just because I beat him at tennis and playfully teased him."
My eyebrows arched. "Is that all?"
She shrugged. "Paul slipped on a wet patch and fell backward onto his butt during our match...I laughed at that, but I knew he wasn't hurt."
"Just his fragile male ego." I grinned. "His derriere can absorb lots of impact."
"When be blew up at my mother's house I decided to simply let it go." Brittany sounded defensive. "After all, I contributed to his moodiness."
"But DID you let it go, Brittie," I demanded, "Or have you been cold to Paul?"
Her eyes flickered. "Naturally I still wasn't happy with his behavior--I let him know that."
I frowned. "The ice treatment after you yelled at him, hmmmm?"
"Scolded him, you mean," she countered.
"Scolding occurs before or during a spanking," I pointed out, "But Paul wasn't spanked, was he?"
My cousin's girlfriend sighed. "I wasn't in the mood, Miriam, I just wanted to forgive and forget."
"Okay." I steepled my fingers."What if you'd been in the mood but Paul hadn't felt like being punished?"
Her eyes flashed. "He would've gotten a bare-bottom blistering anyway, right in front of my mother." She paused. "He had on an athletic supporter, and Momma knows about our spanking relationship." That revelation wasn't entirely surprising since Mrs. Sinclair had occasionally strapped Paul's exposed posterior during his boyhood.
"So if discipline is deserved, mood is irrelevant," I summarized, "Both ways."
Brittany nodded grudgingly, conceding my point. "So what now?"
"Better late than never," I responded. "I didn't come here alone, so I'll bring in my companions from the foyer--but I'd propose one adjustment..."
Moments later, my cousin Paul found himself bending over the arm of his sweetheart's couch, shorts around his knees and thong-separated bare bumcheeks upthrust. His southern hemispheres provided an ideal target for Brittany's mother, whose strong right arm was cracking her pliable razor strop across them steadily and vigorously.
"Once you've dealt with him yourself," I reminded Brittany as we stood watching Paul's rump redden rapidly while he squirmed, kicked and howled, "Show him he's forgiven and that you love him dearly."
"Certainly, Miriam," She affirmed resolutely, caressing the Spencer spanking paddle she held, "But that will be afterward..."
{The End}