Saddle Sore - Chapter 4: Sharing Our Pains

 Saddle Sore

Chapter 4: Sharing Our Pains

By Yu May

As Jayme flipped through Anne of Green Gables, she whispered her favorite words from memory, quoting the character of Mrs. Rachel Lynde: “But if you’ll take my advice—which I suppose you won’t do, although I’ve brought up ten children and buried two—you’ll do that ‘talking to’ you mention with a fair sized birch switch. I should think THAT would be the most effective language for that kind of a child. Her temper matches her hair I guess…” 

Jayme remembered the electric feeling of reading those words for the first time, and had quickly guessed the implication: Anne of Green Gables was going to get a spanking. Back then, Jayme had wanted to highlight the passage, but had thought better of it. What if someone else read this copy of the book and noticed the strange tendency for every mention of spanking to be marked? Jayme still remembered her strange mix of relief, and disappointment, when a few pages later, Anne’s adopted mother, Marilla, had decided against spanking Anne.

At the sound of a splash, Jayme looked up and spotted Jack and Jill, taking turns jumping in the puddle near the woodshed. What if they went inside to poke around? Jayme took a controlled breath. She was worrying over nothing. As long as no one earned a trip to the woodshed by tonight, she was in the clear. 

Absent-mindedly, Jayme flipped through her book, and saw how it opened naturally to the same few pages, the ones she had poured over, again and again: “The amiable suggestion of the birch switch–to the efficiency of which all of Mrs. Rachel's own children could have borne smarting testimony–did not appeal to Marilla…” 

As a youngster, Jayme had found herself arguing with Marilla. How could Marilla not spank Anne for throwing a temper tantrum? How could any kid throw a temper tantrum, and not get spanked? 

It had annoyed little Jayme enough to spark a whole conversation at dinner. Mamma and Pops had explained that, strangely, some parents preferred other punishments over spanking, such as timeouts. And even more bizarre, some parents choose not to spank at all? This revelation had blown the minds of the younger Schmidt children. Some mommies and daddies didn’t spank their kids?

“But why? When I sin, you have to spank me, and put me in timeout, because you love me. Don’t they love their kids enough to spank them for being bad? How is anyone s’posed to remember to be good without spankings?” little Jayme had asked.

At the time, Mamma and Pops had chuckled at Jayme, and called her “precocious.” Poppa had sat Jayme on his lap and explained everything calmly. “We hate having to spank you, but when we have to, we spank you because we want you to grow up into a good woman. Some parents don’t know that’s what they’re supposed to do to help their kids learn to be good. It doesn’t mean they don’t love their kids, they just have…incorrect notions. They’re mixed-up.”

In the present, Jayme muttered under her breath. “Mixed-up…” 

Jayme swallowed as she noticed how her copy of Anne of Green Gables naturally fell open to every potential allusion to spanking, every missed opportunity. 

First, it opened, seemingly at random, to the chapter where Anne mistakenly served wine instead of strawberry cordial to her friend Diana Barry, and thus accidentally got Diana drunk. And there it was: the paragraph where Marilla announced, “I just told her plainly that currant wine wasn’t meant to be drunk three tumblerfuls at a time and that if a child I had to do with was so greedy I’d sober her up with a right good spanking.”

But that just didn’t make sense! Marilla didn’t spank Anne earlier, because Marilla thought she couldn’t bring herself to hit a child. Did this mean that, if Anne had accidentally drunk three tumblerfuls of wine, Marilla would have spanked her, too? But in that case, why didn’t Marilla spank Diana, in order to “sober her up”? And did Diana get ever spanked by Mrs. Barry, off screen?

Sure, Anne of Green Gables was Jayme’s favorite book in the entire world, but it was as if L.M. Montgomery had written this entire book, just to tease Jayme.

Jayme thumbed the pages, and sure enough, it fell open to yet another cherished scene: where Anne had cracked her slate over Gilbert Blythe’s head for teasing her about her red hair. Surely, that had to result in a spanking. But, no, Anne had only been sent to stand at the front of the class, with the words, “Ann [sic.] Shirley has a nasty temper. Ann Shirley must learn to control her temper,” written in chalk behind her. 

Jaymbe grumbled. After all these years, Jayme still felt the exact same way whenever she reread this chapter. “‘Anne would have infinitely preferred a whipping to this punishment under which her sensitive spirit quivered as from a whiplash.’ …See, even Anne agrees with me that she deserves it. Girl’s just begging for a good, hard, bare-bottom spank–”

Joanne appeared at Jayme’s shoulder. “How’s the book?”

Jayme started, and the book flew out of her hands, bounced off the window with a tink before it flopped to the floor with a sharp flap. “Will you quit sneaking up on me?”

Joanne ducked reflexively, then chuckled. “Sorry, I must have been a ninja in a past life.”

Jayme’s face flushed scarlet. “Jo, there’s no such thing as past lives. The Bible says that–ooch!”

As Jayme reached to retrieve the book, she flinched as she felt the blisters from her self-inflicted spanking stretch, agonizingly, across the bruises from falling off her horse and right onto her ass this morning.

When she noticed Jayme’s hand faltering, Joanne snatched up the book, and flipped through it playfully, the pages falling open to the same few spots every time. “Well, what if I was a naughty ninja, and God’s judgment was that I have to be reincarnated as a non-ninja, who gets spankings as karmic justice for my former, murderous, pagan ninja lifestyle?”

Jayme winced as she snatched the book back from Joanne, then dusted off the well-worn cover. “We get just one life…‘And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment: so Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many…’ Don’t you care about what God’s Word says?”

Joanne crossed her arms. “Hey, I love the Bible. I believe in the Bible, I just…I enjoy entertaining alternative theories.”

“Why not try explaining some of your ‘alternative theories’ to Mamma and Pops? I dare you! If you’re entertaining heresy, you could use a good spanking.”

Joanne flicked her bangs out of her eyes. “Sure I do, but not for that. Oh, and I’ll have you know: I did ask Pops about reincarnation. I ask him about Bible stuff all the time. You should try it. He knows all sorts of cool stories. Sex. Violence. Betrayal. Church history is metal.”

 

“May I read my book in peace?”

Joanne raised an eyebrow. “Just want some peace and quiet to read your book with the musical accompaniment of Jessica’s ongoing spanking?”

Jayme flushed and looked toward the front door, straining her ear. “Shush! We aren’t supposed to be eavesdropping on Jessica. And anyway, it’s all over now.”

“Really? How do you know?”

Jayme caught her breath. “Okay, I wasn’t trying to listen in. I came here to read my book, and then I heard the…noises, so I tried to bury myself in my book and block it out. Happy?”

Joanne held her hands up in surrender. “Woah, Easy Eddie! I wasn’t accusing. I had the same thing happen to me. Thought I was far enough away, but then…it’s these bloody thin walls. Every time we get spanked, even if it’s theoretically in private, it’s still public knowledge.”

Jayme pretended to bury her nose in her book, then noticed she’d flipped it upside down. “Yeah well, that’s life. C'est la vie.”

Joanne put her hands in her back pockets. “...Do you ever think that we get spanked an awful lot? I mean, compared to other kids?”

Jayme swallowed. She had been thinking about that daily for several years. “All the girls at church still get spanked.”

Joanne rested her seat against the arm of Jayme’s chair. “...The kids at public school didn’t.” 

At this, Jayme’s ear twitched, and she finally put away her book. “Those witchcraft girlfriends of yours sure needed it. Feeling nostalgic for public school?”

As Joanne’s nostrils flared, Jayme realized that she’d struck a nerve. Though this didn’t give Jayme any satisfaction, she also couldn’t help but feel it was about time that she scored a point on Joanne.

Three years ago, when Joanne had been preparing to go to junior high, she had argued, insistently and incessantly, to be put in public school instead of Redfield Christian School. To all the Schmidt children’s surprise, after many heated arguments and spankings for Joanne, their parents had finally relented. Joanne had spent exactly one semester in public school, before she’d wound up getting caught at a party with highschool kids…and alcohol.  “No, and those psychos weren’t my friends. They were never my friends. I’m just saying, most kids stop getting spanked around age 12, assuming they ever got spanked at all. Even the kids at Redfield Christian. Ever had to strategically hide a red butt in the girl’s locker room? We’re the ones in the minority.”

Jayme sighed. “Okay, so what’s your point? You think it’s unfair? Think your butt should be the only one that’s spared, not bared? We could make you a protest sign, see how that goes!”

Joanne rubbed her forehead. “That’s my whole point. I don’t think it’s unfair. Not once, in my entire life, have I gotten a real spanking if I didn’t deserve it. I don’t really care about the reminder spankings. They’re annoying, but whatever. But, like, the real deal, with the hairbrush or paddle in my room, or…the woodshed? Every single one of those, I know I earned.”

Jayme sniffed. “Finally, you’re talking sense.”

Joanne’s eyes flashed, and she barely caught herself from shouting. “Would you, freakin’…quit teasing me, for three seconds?

Jayme gestured to her book. “What are you talking about? You’re the one teasing me.”

Joanne started to roll her eyes, before very deliberately pausing the gesture. Every Schmidt child had memories of a “serious talk” for eye-rolling. “Whatever. Have fun with your book.”

As Joanne turned away, Jayme suddenly felt like a heel. “What would Jesus do?” she thought.

Jayme bounded like a deer to catch up with Joanne. “Wait, Jo? Hold your horses! …I’m sorry. I thought you were just trying to push my buttons, so I tried pushing your buttons, and…I was wrong.”

Joanne bristled. Finally, Joanne held out a hand, and Jayme shook it. Then Joanne grinned like a fox. “Remember the time I got busted at the kegger party?”

As they finished the handshake, they started strolling alongside one another. Jayme chuckled. “Do I? I can not believe Dad didn’t haul your butt out to the woodshed, after the cops brought you home.”

“See? This is what I was trying to get at. I was sure I was doomed. The woodshed, probably a year’s worth of bare-bottomed bedtime spankings to act as reinforcement. Then Mom and Dad took me to my room…”

Jayme carefully controlled her face to hide any hint of interest, willing herself to just let Joanne keep talking. “...and they actually listened to my side of the story. About me not knowing about the alcohol.”

Jayme was tempted to make a sarcastic remark, but changed her mind. “Yeah, sure you didn’t…I mean, how didn’t you notice? Doesn’t alcohol…taste strong?”

Jayme’s only experience with alcohol was communion wine.

Joanne kicked a rock on the gravel road. “The party guys said it was a Diet Coke. I was stupid. Like, duh, I knew they were all drinking alcohol, but I didn’t know people put alcohol in pop. Then I felt funny, so…I called Pops.”

Jayme felt equally impressed and skeptical. “Really? I didn’t know you did that…Wait, didn’t the cops bring you home?”

“They broke up the party while I was still on the phone. Pops says my scream nearly gave him a heart attack.”

Jayme nodded. “Oh, yeah! Wow, you just unlocked a memory. Mamma was crying about you going to jail, we all thought you’d been shot or something…” 

Jayme stiffened as she remembered something else. Earlier that same week, 14-year-old Jayme had been hauled out to the woodshed for her abysmal mid-term grade report for freshman year. Thanks to Jayme’s smart mouth, she’d earned herself an additional week of bedtime spankings to act as reinforcement. Jayme had still been nursing her wounds, and awaiting her next bedtime spanking in her pajamas, when the catastrophe had struck. 

Jayme stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “So, because you didn’t know it was alcohol, they let you off without the trip to the woodshed? What’d you get, the hairbrush?”

At this question, Joanne suddenly became more sheepish. “...Actually, they were just going to let me off, without the spanking.”

Jayme paused walking, positive she had misheard. “...No spanking?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. Pops said that because I hadn’t intentionally gotten drunk, it was a mistake, not deliberate disobedience. And he believed me about the witches telling me it was just a regular study party, before they stranded me there. I was stupid not to call him right away, but–no, he didn’t say ‘stupid.’ Oh, yeah! He said I was ‘naive,’ but, being naive isn’t a sin, and I did the right thing once I found out I’d been drinking alcohol…so…”

Jayme nodded. “So, no spanking.”

Joanne shuffled her feet, glancing at the woodshed. “Kinda. I felt so guilty, I actually talked them into giving me a bedtime spanking for being dumb about not calling sooner. But they only gave me a ‘gentle reminder.’ It barely hurt, but it was…comforting, somehow?”

Jayme followed Joanne’s line of sight, spotting the woodshed. “If you say so.”

“You’ve never asked Mamma or Pops for a spanking, if you thought you deserved one?”

Jayme shook her head. “Not unless you count me upgrading myself to a ‘serious talking to’ as asking for it.”

Then the sight of the woodshed triggered a memory. With all the excitement over the cops detaining Joanne, Mamma and Pops had forgotten to give Jayme her bedtime spanking that night. Jayme had laid awake in bed that night, waiting for her turn, dreading the sound of a knock on her bedroom door, desperate to go knock on her parents’ door herself and remind them to spank her…to just get it over with…but Jayme hadn’t had the guts. 

Jayme snapped out of her reminiscence as she heard Joanne giggle. “Heh, you certainly do that a lot! It’s almost as if…”

Jayme looked back at Joanne. Something about Joanne’s smile reminded Jayme of the farm cat playing with a captive mouse. “What?”

Joanne spun on her heels and ambled back toward the house. “Nothing. I was going to tease you about you getting spanked some more, but I’ve decided to be nice. Thanks for hearing me out, Jayme. It’s weird, I can talk to Mom and Dad about anything, even embarrassing stuff, but talking to you…well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only kid in the world who still gets spanked. Poor Jessica, she was that close to winning a trip to the woodshed.”

Jayme finally relaxed. Of course, just because Joanne was interested in the woodshed, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. The woodshed had a haunting quality for all the Schmidt siblings. Jayme only wished she had remembered to retrieve her effects from the woodshed earlier, before the catastrophic horse riding lesson. 

Now there were far too many potential witnesses.  She overheard Jack and Jil giggling, and saw they were now taking turns hosing each other off.

Jayme caught up with Joanne. “I hope she didn’t earn any extras. Jessica is my favorite older sister, after all.”

Joanne winked at Jayme. “Mine too.”

Unoffended, Jayme chuckled. That had been her and Joanne’s favorite shared joke since their toddler years. As they took off their shoes at the entrance, Jayme and Joanne whispered about their theories on Jessica’s spanking. The moment they rounded the corner, they noticed Jessica, sitting on a 4-legged stool in the living room, reading her Bible. It was unmistakably an old-fashioned time-out. “...Bad sign,” whispered Jayme.

Jessica was wearing a pair of hand-knitted hand-me-down pajamas, which Jayme instantly recognized. They had been handed down from Granma to Mamma, then from Mamma to Jessica, before being handed down from Jessica to Jayme. Two growth spurts later, and Jayme had wildly outgrown the pajamas, so they were handed back up to Jessica, who always found them wildly comfortable. They were a one-piece design with a simple floral pattern and a buttoned-up drop seat, meant for a young child. But Granma had left them with plenty of extra room for “growing into,” and Jessica had quite never managed to outgrow them. Joanne tipped an imaginary cowboy hat, imitating Pop's gruff voice. “Hey there, Chipmunk. How you holdin’ up?”

Smiling, Jessica shifted on her seat to face Joanne and Jayme, folding her Bible in her lap. “Hello, Sunshine. Howdy, Firecracker.”

Jayme’s throat tightened as she remembered the times she’d been sent to bed early wearing those exact same pajamas. “...You okay, Jessica?” 

Jessica fidgeted. “It was a hot one. I was pretty squirrely at the start, so I earned an extra-long hand spanking for the warmup. But Pops said I took the paddling well, so I didn’t get any extra paddle swats. We had a great talk afterwards. Still stings a little, but I’m feeling much better now.”

Jayme nodded. “So, why the PJs? Are you still in hot water?”

Jessica dusted off her shoulder, looking oddly proud of herself. “Ah, I put these on myself. Since I was so close to a trip to the woodshed, Mamma and Pops said I’m on probation. I have to reread all the chapters of the Bible I skimmed over last semester, and write an essay this summer, but that’s no biggie. It really helps me think, while…”

Joanne finished Jessica’s sentence for her. “...while you’re stuck in time out?”

Jessica thumbed the pages of her Bible nervously. “...Yeah, that’s part of my probation. When we talked about the punishment and whether it was fair…we agreed I’d get a bedtime spanking tonight. So, now I’ve got something to look forward to!”

Joanne whistled. “Man, when it comes to spanking, Mamma and Pops do nothing by halves! I’m surprised you’re so calm.”

Jessica looked flattered. “It was my idea, actually. I figured since I didn’t get the woodshed, a bedtime spanking was the least I deserved.”

Jayme felt a bead of cold sweat forming on her brow. “For how many nights?”

Jessica flashed her buck teeth. “Just the one. After tonight, I’ll have repaid my debt to society…assuming I don’t procrastinate on my Bible essay, which I am determined not to do.”

Joanne smiled like an imp. “So, how red is your butt right now?”

Jayme locked her knees, then forced herself to relax to keep from cutting off her blood circulation. Once, 9-year-old Jayme had fainted after standing stiff as a board for too long. It was right in the middle of Mamma and Poppa renewing their wedding vows to celebrate their 15th anniversary.

Jessica frowned at Joanne. “It’s red, what do you think?”

Joanne’s eyes sparkled. “Yeah, but how red?”

Jessica twisted on her seat to face her nose against the wall. “None of your business!”

As Jessica twisted, Jayme couldn’t help but notice how Jessica’s wide hips filled out the old pajamas. One of the buttons of the drop seat had fallen out years ago, the loose corner of the flap teasingly revealing a few square inches of Jessica’s upper-left buttock. The sliver of exposed flesh was bright pink, matching the color of Jessica’s pajamas so perfectly, Jayme hadn’t noticed it before.

As her knees trembled, Jayme suddenly felt light headed.

Joanne leaned forward to give Jessica her best puppy-dog eyes, holding up her hands. “Pretty please? How else am I supposed to learn if my favorite older sister doesn’t provide me with a shining example?”

Jessica pouted and twisted in her seat to face Jayme. “Humph! You’re just fishing for an opportunity to tease me…but if Jayme asks me nicely, and promises to keep you in check, I might reconsider.”

Jayme’s throat went dry as Joanne and Jessica both looked up to her. She imagined her shoulder angel, flopping down on her shoulder, face first. “Do it, Jayme! For Joanne’s sake! She needs to see what EXACTLY happens to naughty girls who don’t read the Bible!”

Jayme’s shoulder devil clawed up her back like a cat. “Yeah! I wanna’ see that smokin’ hot, flamin’ red ass!”

The shoulder angel suddenly looked incensed. “You fiend! That’s Jayme’s precious sister! How dare you refer to her so crassly?”

The shoulder devil stuck out her forked tongue. “Spare me the false piety, twinkle butt, you asked first!”

Jessica looked at Jayme with mock sternness, her finger playing with the loose flap of her pajamas. “Well, Jayme? Want a quick peek?”

Jayme suddenly felt a splitting headache coming on. She wanted far more than a mere quick peek. “No, Joanne, it isn’t right. Mamma and Pops gave Jessica her spanking in private. We shouldn’t add to her humiliation.”

Joanne looked like Christmas had just been canceled. 

Jessica tilted her head. “Aw, you’re so considerate, Jayme…”

Before Jayme could do anything, Jessica stood and undid the only button holding up the drop seat of her pajamas, before slowly lowering the flap. Jessica looked thoroughly pleased with herself. “...But I’ve taken plenty of bubble baths with you two. Nothing here you haven’t seen before!”

Joanne whistled, and leaned on her knees to examine the results of Jessica’s encounter with the hand paddle. Jayme felt like the world was swimming in a fog around her. She imagined her shoulder angel and shoulder devil pausing their argument, pulling out polaroid cameras, then seating themselves at a neat office desk to sort their photographs into a folder labeled “Permanent Memories” in the filing cabinet inside Jayme’s skull. 

The entire surface of Jessica’s full, freckled fundament was a consistent, cheerful shade of bright pink, the lingering effects of the hand spanking. But the lower center of Jessica’s bottom was an angry shade of red, the flat paddle strokes having left a squarish, geometric pattern. Jessica gestured to the red marks, easily tracing the area with her index finger. “After the warm up, I got the first 24 strokes of the paddle right here…”

The straight angularity of the paddle marks contrasted sharply with the soft curves of Jessica’s plump posterior, which seemed to spill out from the open window left by the lowered drop seat.

Jayme felt her whole body trembling, and the moment she tried to gulp for air, Jessica bent over. Using both her cupped hands, Jessica lightly lifted up her lower butt cheeks, revealing the sensitive area hidden under the folds of puppy fat. It was as if Jessica’s backside was smiling. “...and the last 12 right on my sit-spots, for a total of 36. Two swats for each of my 18 years. I can’t wait for my next birthday!”

Jayme felt her stomach clench. Ordinarily, the initial, agonizing pain of a spanking faded surprisingly quickly, usually within a few minutes. But Jayme knew first hand that sitting a freshly-spanked bottom down on the wooden stool was a keen reminder of the sting, especially when their parents remembered to add a few strokes to the tender, delicate sit spots. And whenever Jayme earned a “serious talking to” Mamma and Pops never forgot to pay proper attention to Jayme’s sit spots. “I’m…sorry you got it so rough, Jessica.”

Jessica shook her head, glancing down at her own behind with amusement. “Don’t be. I asked for it, and I got exactly what was coming to me. You know Mamma and Pops. They’re always…fair?”

Jessica’s eyes went wide, and Jayme felt like she had eyes on the back of her head. Jessica quickly sat herself back down on her wooden stool, and Jayme and Joanne turned to find Mama gliding into the room, her steps as light as a kitten’s. Mamma crossed her arms, and fixed Joanne with her patented Mom-look™. “Hello, girls! …Jessica, are either of these two teasing you?”

Jessica shook her head, now sitting with perfect posture to face the corner. “No, ma’am!”

“And why is the flap down on your pajamas?”

Jessica twitched to glance over her shoulder, before remembering to keep her nose in the corner. “The flap? I…Because I unbuttoned it, ma’am.”

“And why did you do that?”

Jessica bowed her head. “Jayme and Joanne wanted to know if I was doing okay and…I…it was all my idea…I wanted them to see what I got for my just desserts.”

Jayme raised a hand to intercede, but Mamma shook her head at Jayme, then tapped her foot. The only sound in the room was Mamma’s leather slipper slapping against the linoleum floor. “Jessica, not ten minutes ago, your father sent you to sit in time out. Do you remember his instructions?”

Jessica rocked back and forth, keenly aware that her bare, spanked bottom was now a damning piece of evidence establishing her guilt. “Yes, ma’am. I’m to sit in the corner, read my Bible, and think about what I’ve done.”

“And have you done that?”

“Yes, ma’am…” A shiver traveled up Jessica’s spine as she corrected herself. “I mean, I did that at first, ma’am. But when they asked me how I was doing, we got to talking, and I sort of…forgot, ma’am. It wasn’t deliberate disobedience.”

“Stand up, Jessica. Keep your nose in the corner.”

Clutching her Bible to her bosom, Jesicca stood to attention, her flap dangling freely to expose her freshly-roasted rump.

Mamma patted Jessica’s bottom, giving her three quick love-taps which sent soft ripples through each of Jessica’s butt cheeks. “Did you accidentally drop the seat of these pajamas? Or did you deliberately drop them?”

Jessica clenched her buttocks, the puppy fat still quivering. “Yes, ma’am…Deliberately, ma’am.”

“And did you accidentally put down your Bible and stand up to ‘show off the just desserts’ of your defiance?”

“No, ma’am…I did that deliberately, ma’am.”

“In that case, when you claim you did not deliberately disobey, what do you mean by that? What do you have to say in your defense?”

Jessica took a shaky breath, then stood at attention. “I meant that I wasn't being willful, ma’am. I did leave timeout, but it was out of forgetfulness, not a desire to disobey.”

Mamma nodded, then turned to Jayme. “You were a witness. Is that what happened?”

Jayme nodded, then steeled herself. “Yes, ma’am. We were the ones who asked Jessica if she was okay, and she was just telling us how she agreed she needed the punishment. She wasn’t trying to show disrespect, not on purpose!”

Mamma looked up at her tallest daughter, with a look that suggested supreme self-confidence, despite her diminutive frame. “Do you get to decide what constitutes disrespect to the rules of the household, young lady?”

Jayme shook her head. Suddenly, she had a strange series of visions, downloaded into her head all at once. She imagined herself flipping the bird with two fingers, screaming an “Eff you!” as a war cry, then pile driving her own mother. Jayme was reasonably sure she could take Mamma in a straight fight. Then she imagined the warm-up spanking from Pops that would surely follow, perhaps followed by all three of the eldest Schmidt sisters being escorted to the woodshed for a triple spanking session, followed by Jayme earning several decades worth of additional nightly bed-time spankings to serve as a lasting mark of her shameful rebellion against the Fifth Commandment: Honor your Father and Mother. Jayme imagined herself as Jessica, standing in timeout, complete with the childish drop-seat pajamas, and bizarrely, the mental image seemed like more of a reward than a punishment. In the time it took Jayme to blink, this entire sequence of events played like a movie in her mind’s eye, and consciously, she forced herself to resist the temptation to defy her mother. “No, ma’am. That’s not my decision…but you asked me for my witness testimony, and I wanted to tell you the whole truth.”

 

Mamma’s ear perked up at Jayme’s addition, then she retrieved a wooden spoon from one of the strategically placed racks of emergency spanking implements. Jayme second-guessed herself, wondering if what she said counted as back-talk, but Mamma smiled. “Very well spoken, Jayme…Jessica? Turn around, sweetie, and look me in the eye.”

Jessica shuffled on her feet to spin in place to face Mamma, the diminutive mother and daughter at eye-level with one another. Mamma patted the wooden spoon against the palm of her hand. “Jessica, in this house, deliberate disobedience and defiance always equals a spanking. I’m satisfied that you’re not guilty of that…though I’m also astonished at your forgetfulness. When your father puts you in timeout, you mind your father.”

“Yes’m!” squeaked Jessica.

Mamma gestured the wooden spoon at Jayme and Joanne. “And as for you two, when you see your sister in timeout, assume that she has more important matters to attend to, such as studying the Scriptures, rather than sharing idle gossip. You can always…” 

Mamma slapped her own behind with the wooden spoon with three firm swats for emphasis. “...compare battle scars…another time. Now, Jessica, when you were in your terrible twos, I often had to give you a reminder spanking to teach you to stay put in timeout. Do you need another reminder now, at your age?”

Jessica hugged her Bible tightly against her chest, clutching to it like a security blanket. “No, ma’am. If you think I need a reminder spanking, I’ll accept your decision, but whatever you decide, I promise I’ll remember.”

Mamma pressed the wooden spoon against her lips, then hung it back in place on the rack. “I believe you. I was very proud of you for having the maturity to ask Poppa for a bedtime spanking tonight. That shows character. Because of that, I’ll spare you the reminder spanking you would have earned for this little stunt, when you were a toddler.”

Jessica nodded, her fear evaporating. “Thank you, Mamma!”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m letting you off without the reminder spanking, but it’s still up to your father to make the final decision. When we come to give you your bedtime spanking tonight, I want you to inform him of this discussion, and submit to his judgment on the matter. We’ll leave it up to him whether you need an extra spanking to remind you to keep your bottom in timeout.”

Jessica’s face plainly revealed she was doing the math in her head, trying to calculate her odds of additional spanking tonight. Jayme felt like she could read Jessica’s mind as easily as a thought balloon in a comic book. Jessica was thinking, “It’s okay. You can trust Poppa. He’s always fair!”

Jessica bounced on her heels, resisting the urge to jump for joy. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell him everything! Thank you for correcting me.”

Mamma kissed Jessica on her nose. “You’re welcome. Now, sit your little booty down in timeout, right where it belongs.”

Jessica was in such a rush to obey, she forgot to button up her drop seat. Jessica started to stand up to fix her wardrobe, but Mamma waved a finger. “No, no. You felt like showing off your just desserts? Fair enough. Keep that flap down until bedtime. That will give you a concrete reminder of our little discussion. Take time to pray, and think hard on the spanking you already have coming tonight…Don’t pray that Father will let you off without a second spanking. Pray that he will be fair with you. When you’ve finished saying your prayers, concentrate on reading God’s Word.”

Jessica nodded, and folded her hands in silent prayer, as Mamma gently placed her hand on top of Jessica’s head. Jayme noticed Joanne bow her head, and followed suit. After a full minute of silent prayer, Jessica announced, “Amen!” 

Then Jessica rushed to flip open the Bible on her lap and scoop up her highlighters. She was marking the passages with different colors to represent different key concepts in classical homiletics, a trick the Schmidt siblings had picked up from Bible Study Fellowship.

As Mamma fixed Jayme and Joanne with a stern look, they knew they were both excused, and retreated toward their rooms. As Jayme rounded the corner, Mamma caught her by the elbow. “Jayme…”

Jayme clenched her already aching butt cheeks. This was it! Jayme should have known she wouldn’t escape unscathed for defiance. As Jayme readied herself to be dragged to her room, she mentally rehearsed the whole scene that would play out when her self-inflicted welts were exposed. But instead, Mamma only squeezed Jayme’s hand in hers. “Thank you for standing up for your sister.”

Jayme’s heart swelled as she bent down to let Mamma kiss her softly on the cheek, then slipped into her bedroom. As Jayme leaned against the door to shut it, she felt like a weight had suddenly fallen off her shoulders. Her parents were proud of her! She wasn’t a giant screw up!

Glancing down, Jayme noticed the copies of Crime and Punishment and Anne of Green Gables tucked under her armpit. With a sigh, she set them down on her bedside table. “No point, I just can’t concentrate.”

Spotting her walkman on the floor between the wall and her bed, Jayme fished it out. “Ah, there you are! Been wondering where you went for the last month!” 

Jayme examined the disc through the clear plastic case. “Adventures in Odyssey? Classic. Just what I need.”

Popping the headphones into the jack, Jayme settled down on her bed, only wanting to relax and enjoy her all-time favorite Christian radio drama program. The CD cued up to where she’d left off. Jayme’s favorite character, Aubrey Shepherd, had traveled back to Biblical times, through the magic of the Imagination Station. Jayme concentrated as she tried to remember where Aubrey’s adventure had taken her…Ah yes, the palace of King Herrod Antipas, where Aubrey met none other than Princess Salome. There was a sound of shattering clay as Salome accidentally knocked over a valuable vase. 

Jayme’s eyes popped open. She remembered this part of the radio story all too well. She fumbled to find the pause button, trying to ignore the dialogue as Aubrey valiantly offered to take the blame for breaking the vase. “...What is the punishment around here for breaking a vase?”

Jayme ripped off the headphones, but it was too late. She could still make out the soft sound on the headphones, and she already had this section perfectly memorized. “Oh, nothing too severe. Ten lashes with a stick,” said Princess Salome…

“Uh…how big is the stick?” said Aubrey Shepherd.

Jayme stopped the walkman. Of course, the spanking scene. Or rather, the off-screen spanking, which was clearly implied to take place during the commercial break. A month ago, Jayme had reached this point in the radio program, and pressed rewind on the CD, over and over, imagining herself as Aubrey Shepherd, picturing herself enduring every painful lash with “the stick.” Every time, Jayme would rub her own bottom, as Aubrey said, “Yeah…Remind me to thank you, when I can sit down again!”

The voice actresses’ pained delivery for the line was perfect. Every time Jayme listened to this episode, she fully believed she was Aubrey Shepherd, spanked bottom and all.

As early as age six, Jayme had done the same thing with audiocassette tapes for older episodes, replaying the brief references to spankings over and over, until the tapes finally wore out. Jayme vividly remembered how she had laid on her bed doing exactly this on the night after her first-ever bare-bottom spanking: after the fireworks incident. Sniffling into her pillow, she had rubbed her sore bottom gently, listening to her favorite characters discuss the importance of spanking in their lives, how it was done out of love, not anger. Then Jayme would lift her head, rewind the tape, and settle back down on her pillow, praying to Jesus to help her not sin again, thanking God for giving her parents who loved her enough to spank her.

In the present, Jayme lay on her stomach, cradling her own bottom gently. The cozy, warm feeling from last night had long since faded, but the stripes left by her own belt still prickled softly. In contrast, the two bruises from falling off her saddle felt like she was sitting on two cold nails.

The evidence was all around her. Sooner, or later, someone was bound to figure it out. Jayme…was mixed-up. 

But how had she gotten so mixed-up? What even was this feeling? Jayme hated spanking! How could Joanne and Jessica even think to ask for spankings, on purpose? Were they mad?

Jayme dug her fingers into the seat of her pants, then unbuckled her stupid pink belt, yanking down her jeans and massaging her buttocks, trying to rub away the numb ache left by the bruises. Jayme stiffened as she stuck her ass higher in the air. Had she remembered to lock her door? What if someone walked in, right now? 

But as she dug her fingernails into her buttocks, reawakening the fading welts from last night, savoring the tantalizing sensation, Jayme didn’t care! Let someone walk in. All she wanted was for Mamma or Pops to catch her red-handed, scream at her, drag her by the hair to the woodshed, and…

Her blood running cold, Jayme quickly pulled up her pants and fixed her belt. Behind the anger, she finally saw the truth she had been running from. Jayme wanted nothing more in all the world than to be spanked. But she was also too afraid of spanking to ever ask for one…not willingly.

End of Chapter 4

[Author’s note: This chapter was generously sponsored by my patron, Adam-12, who commissioned a story and requested this as his commissioned gift.]