With
A Wooden Paddle in the Judges Chambers by Lizbeth Dusseau,
spanking
A sassy, bratty misbehaving Holly
wishes she'd never run away, as she faces this humiliating
spanking.
From To
Passionate Ends, available in
Three Spanking Novellas
Ebook
ordering
Copyrighted
© 1998, all rights reserved.
“Your
ass is mine, brat!” Trevor McClain roared.
“Only
if you can catch me!” Holly roared back.
She
grabbed her satchel in her hands and raced up the stairway. At
the top, she threw a vase of flowers towards the man on her
heels, the flying rocket narrowly missing the side of his face.
With all due speed, she continued her flight, the wild-eyed,
flushed face, raven haired beauty reaching the end of the
hallway, slamming her bedroom door and locking it behind her.
“You
unlock this door, or I’ll knock it down!” Trevor shouted.
“You
will not punish me!” Holly shouted back.
“Oh,
but I will!” Trevor vowed. And true to his word, he began with
a heavy fist, pounding on the shaking wood until both Holly and
Trevor knew that the ancient thing would give way.
“Okay,
okay, stop!” she shouted at him.
He
only heard her after the third cry, and then he stopped. He’d
wait just a second for the door to swing open, and when it
didn’t, he completed the task, breaking the door lock, the
wood swinging open on its rickety hinges.
Trevor
was just in time to see the fleeing young woman’s pert round
bottom disappear out the window. Looking down, he saw the
impossible brat skidding down the oak tree quickly, not caring
that she was tearing her clothes all the way.
Trevor
contained his surplus anger. He shook his head and sighed. Not
even his temper could propel him down the stairs and out the
door fast enough to catch her. But there was some solace for
him: the blasted brat would come sniveling back, and when she
did, he’d have her ass, just as he’d swore to her before.
***
The phone rang, startling Trevor out of his reverie. Looking at
the clock, he saw that it had been nearly two hours since he’d
called the sheriff to report Holly missing. It was dark, night
coming quickly in early November. He’d been sitting in the
dusky light of the study, the only illumination coming from the
small desk lamp. He jerked at the sound of the phone, and let it
ring three times before he answered.
“Mr.
McClain?” he heard an official sounding voice on the other
end.
“It
is,” he replied.
“This
is the Bryton County Sheriff’s department. We have a young
woman here that has your address and phone on her
identification.”
“Holly
Pritchart?” he asked.
“Yes,
that’s her name. Only she’s not talking.”
“Is
she okay?”
“I
think so. But I think you’d better come down here so we can
discuss her arrest.”
“Arrest!”
Trevor exclaimed.
“Yes.
If you’ll just come by the department, we’ll probably be
able to release her to your custody this evening.”
“Certainly,”
Trevor said, almost automatically. He hung up the phone, dazed
and concerned; though a fresh brew of anger swelled in his
chest. Pulling himself from the chair, he grabbed his car keys
and made his way out the door. Obviously, this would be another
of many chapters in the saga of Holly Pritchart, one he was sure
would end with the young woman’s behind red hot and blistered
from the spanking she deserved.
***
“Miss
Pritchart, will you stand please?” the stern-looking judge
ordered. Peering over his glasses, his beady black eyes bore
down on the shivering young woman with an intensity that
reverberated throughout the courtroom. “It’s late, Miss
Pritchart. And I’m anxious to get home, as I’m sure the rest
of the court is. That you’re appearing before me tonight,
rather than in the morning, is a consideration made on behalf of
your guardian. You can thank him for not having to sleep here
with the rats tonight.”
The
often saucy, but now penitent, Holly trembled; her cuffed hands
made her feel like such a criminal. With her black hair swept
back from her face and tied in a ponytail, it was easy to see
the stress in her pretty features; though her normally bright
eyes were dim, as she looked down at her feet, chagrined.
“So,
Miss Pritchart, how do you plead to the charges?”
Holly
looked up and glanced at her guardian, then looked back at the
judge. She didn’t have much choice in the matter after she’d
had several stern lectures from three policemen and Trevor
himself.
“Guilty,” she replied in a whisper.
“What
was that? Speak up.”
“Guilty,
sir.”
“Thank-you,”
the judge replied, tersely. “Do you have anything to say for
yourself before I pass sentence?”
“No,
sir.” That wasn’t quite the truth, she had lots to say, lots
that she could plead for, but that would be a useless waste.
The
judge nodded, and then closing his file, he set the document
aside and looked directly at the dark-haired young beauty. “I
could release you into the custody of your guardian, and put you
on probation for a few months. But I’m not going to do that.
Your beer drinking, graffiti writing little joyride with your
friends has cost quite a few people their sleep tonight, not to
mention their peace of mind. You and your cohorts may think it
was a lark, your antics some silly kid’s prank, but the
unfortunate car accident could have resulted in serious injury
for you all. God forbid you’d hit something other than the old
oak tree in the parson’s yard. And you, Holly Pritchart, are
fortunate that that your own crimes were minor compared to your
hooligan friends. They’ll remain in jail and be charged to the
fullest extent of the law, a fact that could see them serve some
months in jail.”
For
an innocent fling that night? Holly wondered to herself. She had
no idea a night of fun could end like this.
“However,
the fact that this is your first offense and that you are
underage gives me some leeway in passing sentence. Mind you,
I’ll not going easy on you. Giving you simple probation is
like a slap on the hand, and would hardly make an impression.
And it’s an impression that I intend to make. I have no
intention of seeing you back in this courtroom again. You
understand?”
“Yes,
sir. And I don’t want to be here.”
“Good.
That is why I’m going to order a rarely used, but still very
legal, penalty. This will be short, sweet, but I assume very
effective.” The judge cleared his throat as he picked up the
gavel beside his hand and held it in his firm grasp. “This
court orders you to submit to a bare-bottomed paddling of your
behind which will be administered immediately in my chambers by
Officer Jessup, your arresting officer. Twenty smacks with a
wood paddle.” The gavel hit the bench with a resounding crack,
sentence pronounced. “Officer Means,” the judge turned to
the courthouse matron, “please take Miss Pritchart into my
chambers. Mr. McClain you will also be present.” The judge
nodded to Holly’s guardian, then turned to the peace officer
who was sitting at the table opposite her. The handsome,
sandy-haired young man couldn’t be more than twenty-five,
though he cut quite an authoritative figure in his police blues.
His commanding appearance was only enhanced by his well-muscled
chest; and when he rose to his feet, Holly already knew that at
six-foot two, he’d tower over her by nearly a foot.
“Officer Jessup,” the judge addressed him, “if
you’ll confer with me for a moment, we can then get started.
This court is adjourned,” he finished, rapping the gavel
again. And with a suddenness that made Holly’s head swim, she
was whisked away by the matron and taken to the judge’s
chambers.
This had
been such a strange night. With a fresh burst of exhilaration,
Holly had fled Trevor’s house to escape a trip to the
woodshed, only to find herself getting exactly the same
treatment in a way far more humiliating that she ever imagined.
She’d have rather taken a hundred trips to the woodshed than
this one awkward trip to a judge’s chambers escorted by a
grim-faced woman in a starched black uniform.
Inside the stately office, Holly stood by herself in
front of the judge’s desk, although the judge himself sat down
in a chair on the side of the room. The matron stood at the
door, Trevor next to her, and Darrel Jessup entered last. On
instructions from the judge, the young officer went immediately
to a closet beside the massive bookcases that lined one wall,
and took out a two-foot long, six-inch wide paddle. At one end
of the formidable looking implement there was a handgrip, and at
the other, the business end, there were a half dozen holes
drilled through the thick surface. This was not a new punishment
paddle, everyone could see that easily by the way the dark
surface gleamed from the oil that had been used to keep it ready
and in condition for its purpose. It was obvious that the aged
wood had seen quite a bit of use, even though it might not have
been recent.
Holly eyed Darrel Jessup, remembering how much she was
attracted to the officer when he arrived on the scene of the
accident and took charge with such authority. She might have
flirted with him if the circumstances had been different. But
with the paddle in his hand and her bottom about to be spanked,
her personal feelings for this virile specimen of manhood had to
be squelched. The expression on his handsome face communicated
nothing but firm resolve to complete the task he’d been
assigned to. Holly thought the whole thing was appalling, but no
one else in the room batted an eye at the practice that should
have been outlawed years ago. It was one thing to have her
guardian practice old-fashioned discipline on her, but the
court? At that point, she would have been happy to spend a night
in jail with the rats.
“Miss
Pritchart,” Darrel Jessup began, “if you’ll take down your
jeans and bend over the judge’s desk, we can get on with
this.” He was so polite, but very determined, his deep voice
was perfect for the matter at hand. Such stunning blue eyes
staring intently at her, she froze for just an instant, not
knowing how she’d get through the embarrassing spectacle.
“Miss
Pritchart, please,” Darrel’s voice assumed an even more
uncompromising tone. He nodded to the desk, his free hand coming
to her shoulder to egg her on. Holly’s longing glances did
nothing to dissuade his mien, so proud, calm, and inflexible;
she was sure that there was no way out of this debacle but to
follow his orders.
Turning
away from her audience of four, Holly unzipped her jeans; and as
she pushed the denim over her hips, she bent over the polished
desk, hiding her privates from view. It was bad enough baring
her bottom; she refused to give everyone a view of everything
else. A cool breeze swept through the room; and the air tickled
her naked cheeks as if that was a reminder that they would soon
be burning hot. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her fists and
waited.
“I
think you should grab the other side of the desk,” Darrel
instructed. “This will give you quite a jolt.” Holly quaked
from her shoulders to her toes, hearing his advice. It seemed
almost an affectionately delivered warning, as if he had some
regard for her feelings. Reaching forward, she did as she was
told. Though she wanted to cry, she held back her tears.
They’d be flowing in buckets before long.
From
the corner of her eye, Holly gazed behind her to see Darrel
Jessup place the paddle on a nearby chair and begin rolling up
the sleeves of his uniform shirt. Seeing his forearms bared, the
young brat felt the hair on her neck stand on end, such power
unveiled before her anxious eyes. When he picked up the paddle,
she could already imagine the first powerful stroke of his arm
coming down on her behind. Unable to view anymore, she turned
around, closed her eyes, and waited.
The room was tense, prickly with impatient energy. The
methodical officer Jessup was just the right kind of
administrator for such a task. Although he had never carried out
such a punishment, he was obviously a natural. Both Trevor and
the judge had been much like this young man in their younger
days. Even if this was the only spanking he’d ever give a
woman, they both knew it would be a sound one.
Finished
with his preparations, Jessup stood to one side of the naughty
brat, eyed the two gleaming rear mounds for just an instant,
then took aim, reared back and brought the paddle forward where
it landed with a resounding strike. Seconds later he repeated
the process, landing a second smack exactly where the first had
hit. With these two swats, Holly was silent, gritting her teeth.
Though she was tempted to grunt or groan, she remained silent.
The next three swats followed, the first two landing in the same
spot where a bright red blush began to appear. Pausing, Darrel
then changed the tenor of the spanking, peppering Holly’s
bottom fast and hard with the next ten. These rose and fell on
her backside, so that he covered more than just the plump
well-padded center. Her entire bottom felt the horrendous sting.
With
the treatment so uncertain, Holly couldn’t stand the impact of
more than three or four swats before she finally cried out,
first with a passionate, “Oooo ouch,” and then with a more
vehement, “please no!”
To
all of her cries, however, Darrel remained immune, forever calm
and collected as he delivered each swat. Just as he was
finishing this terrible ten, Holly danced about on tiptoe as if
that would alleviate the pain. Her frenetic footwork caused
Darrel to pause. “Miss Pritchart, you’ll have to stop,” he
scolded her. “I’m not authorized to strike you any where but
on the buttocks.”
“And,” the judge interjected with a disapproving
voice, “it’s well within my bounds to add to the paddling if
you cannot contain yourself and take it properly.”
“How
do you expect me to take it,” Holly snapped nastily at both
men, all her poise down the drain. “It hurts like hell!”
“Holly!”
Trevor roared. “You will stand still, young lady, or you’ll
face more of this when I get you home.”
Duly
chastised, she calmed. And though she seethed under her breath,
her biting comment wasn’t heard. With Holly subdued, Darrel
Jessup took advantage of the moment to lay on the last five
strokes so fast that Holly didn’t have time to squirm, or
protest, only cry.
The spanking
over, there was a moment of strained silence throughout the room
until the judge spoke again. Though Holly was tempted to rise
and restore her jeans to their proper place, the judge stopped
her.
“Stay
where you are, young lady,” he barked at her. “I have a few
more things to say.” The stern man cleared his throat and then
began again. “You’ve got a red and blistered bottom because
you didn’t have sense enough to choose your friends with more
care. I’d better not see you anywhere near this courtroom
again. But you can be sure if I do, you’ll get another
blistering so severe you’ll think what you’ve had here
tonight were love taps. Is that understood?”
“Yes,
sir,” the poor girl snuffed.
“Good.
Now you can go home. I would hope that Mr. McClain would
consider this measure himself, if you continue to misbehave.”
“Oh,
you can be sure,” Trevor responded.
“And
Officer Jessup,” the judge went on. “That was fine job.
Thank you.”
“Yes,
sir,” the young man acknowledged the comment.
Holly
took those moments to reach down and find the tops of her jeans.
Pulling them over her hips, the two punished rear cheeks
disappeared from view. She didn’t know if that was all right
or not, but she certainly had no intention of offering a view of
her bare bottom while the three men made small talk.
As Holly and Trevor were on their way home that night, an icy
silence descended on them. Holly stared out of the car and
Trevor toward the road in front of them. Arriving home, he
stopped by the front door and sat for a moment.
“You
know, I should take you to the woodshed,” he said.
“Good
gawd no!” she cried. Her bottom still ached from the paddling;
and with the thought of another spanking, she was practically in
tears again.
“Holly,”
Trevor spoke sternly.
“I’m
sorry.”
“You
damn well better be. You were punished tonight for that stupid
stunt with your friends, but you haven’t been punished for
running away in the first place, and your horrible behavior.
I’m going to let it go tonight, but let me tell you, if you so
much as raise your voice to me, and run off like a vagrant, or
in any way rile me, you’ll be in that woodshed faster than you
can say, I’m sorry! And I won’t care if you just had
your bottom blistered by a strapping young officer. I’ll do it
again.” Trevor’s anger rose as he spoke, so much so Holly
was afraid he might just change his mind and haul her off the
woodshed right then; but to her relief, it was just a lecture
and nothing more. “Now, young lady, you get inside, go to your
room and I don’t want to see you until morning.”
“Yes,
sir,” she said meekly. She wanted nothing more than to soothe
herself between the sheets of her comforting bed.
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