by Frank Limadere
The eighteen-year-old shifted nervously under the stern eyes watching him intently. He tried and failed to meet the eyes of the two ladies seated on the couch across from him.
"So you know why you're here, young man?" one of the women, a tall, willowy beauty with a mane of lustrous curly chestnut hair asked, her green eyes shining behind the pair of stylish rectangular glasses that were perched on the bridge of her nose.
"Uhhhh... yeah, I think so," Dustin answered, resisting the urge to touch his short, spiky brown hair as he had a habit of doing when he was nervous.
Andrea Mahony let a long disappointed-sounding breath out, and said slowly, "Yes, I think so, what, Dustin?"
"What?" Dustin said, blinking in confusion.
"What Andrea means, young man," the other woman on the couch spoke; she was also tall, and slim, but powerful, with long blonde hair and stern ice-blue eyes. Dustin knew Gabrielle Kennedy, he doubted that there was anyone in the mid-sized town of Clarkstown that didn't know, and was not a little bit intimidated by the formidable Kennedy matriarch. "Is that you did not end your sentence with an appropriate honorific such as ma'am or Miss, and she will also accept Aunty."
"Oh," Dustin said, his mouth dropping open. He had heard stories about the Spank Shop, everyone in Clarkstown had ever since Andrea opened the place, but he just hadn't thought he'd ever end up here. "Sorry, Mrs Kennedy, ma'am."
Gabrielle sighed. "Dustin we have had this conversation more than once, dear. Mrs Kennedy is my mother-in-law, you can call me Aunty Gabrielle."
"Yes, Aunty," Dustin said with a blush. It always felt weird for him to call his girlfriend's mother 'Aunty'.
The interrogation was interrupted by the entrance of an extremely attractive, short blonde who looked like a smaller, younger version of Gabrielle Kennedy. She carried a tea tray and busied herself setting out a teapot, cups, saucers and sugar and milk, before tucking the tray under an arm and leaving the room. She stopped and gave Dustin a thin-lipped icy glare before she opened the door that connected the cosy parlour to the shop's reception area, and shut it firmly behind her.
"Well someone has made an enemy of young Kimberley," Andrea remarked in amused tones as she poured herself a cup of tea and added in milk and sugar before stirring it and sipping.
"Our Kimmy's very protective of her little sister and doesn't like anyone causing her discomfort like Dustin has," Gabrielle remarked approvingly after blowing on her own tea to cool it and taking an experimental sip.
The comment got a miserable whimper from the room's fourth occupant. She was seated on a wooden straight-backed chair along one wall. She had Gabrielle and Kimberley's blue eyes, fair features and blonde hair; she was taller than her older sister but shorter than her mother.
"Do you have something to say, Chelsea?" Gabrielle inquired, regarding her middle daughter over the rim of her cup.
"No Mum," Chelsea muttered, shifting uncomfortably on the chair's hard, un-cushioned seat.
"Dustin, before Kimmy came in we were trying to get to why you think you're here at this moment," Andrea started. "You said you think you know, would you like to enlighten us?"
"Uhhh... I thought Mum and Dad told you, ma'am."
"Well, yes they did as did Aunty Gabrielle and Uncle Bruce," Andrea confirmed.
"Actually, Bruce insists that Dustin call him Mr Kennedy. In fact he does that with all the girl's boyfriends. It's rather cute to see them squirm when they first encounter him," Gabrielle interjected.
Although she was a little irritated that Gabrielle had interrupted her, Andrea's lips quirked upward in a small smile. Bruce Kennedy was a large man with a military background, she could well imagine him being more than a little scary for some young man who wanted to date either of the Kennedy girls; their youngest sister, Madeline, at nine years of age was still too young to be considering that kind of relationship. "As I was saying, they all told me what you'd done, but I want to hear it from your lips. They weren't there, you were."
"I brought Chelsea home late, after curfew, ma'am," Dustin said slowly and this time he did pat his hair gently.
Andrea shrugged. "That's not ideal behaviour, granted, but surely that's a matter between you and Chelsea's parents and her and them, not a reason to send you here. Isn't there something else a little more serious?"
"The drags..." Dustin murmured.
"The what?" Andrea said sharply.
"The drags," Dustin repeated. "Drag races, ma'am."
"Ahhhhh yes," Andrea said, sitting back and crossing one long nylon-sheathed leg over the other. "The drag races. The story I heard was that you were engaged in one of these races with Chelsea in the car and she was brought home after curfew by Constable Tania Wheeler who was one of the police who broke up the illegal race meeting. Is any of this sounding at all familiar, Dustin?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Yes ma'am, indeed. Do you know how many fatalities illegal drag racing results in every year, young man?"
"No, miss," Dustin muttered, the toe of his shoe grinding into Andrea's floor rug.
"I'm sure you don't. The actual figure is hard to pin down, but it is in the hundreds. Hundreds of young lives senselessly wasted because someone wants to prove their car is faster than someone else's. Do you understand that you and Chelsea could have been seriously injured or killed?"
"I'm a good driver!" Dustin flared, his brown eyes sparking.
"I'm sure hundreds of people who wound up in the morgue said exactly the same thing. And if you forget to call me ma'am, miss or Aunty again I'll find a use for my caning horse," Andrea said sternly, pointing at a fearsome heavy piece of wooden furniture in a shadowy corner of the room. "Had Constable Wheeler and other members of the Clarkstown Police Department not found and broken up that street racing meet you were at, you and Chelsea could be facing a lot more than just a sore bottom."
Dustin didn't reply, but stared at the tops of his shoes.
"Do you want to know what your actions got Chelsea?' Gabrielle asked coolly.
The blonde teenager's eyes widened from where she sat. "No, Mum," she begged, tears spilling from her eyes and sliding down her cheeks. "Please don't tell him."
"Oh, I'm not going to, dear," Gabrielle said to her daughter. "You are."
"Mum!" Chelsea gasped. "I can't!"
"Chelsea Meaghan Kennedy," Gabrielle said firmly, emphasizing all three of the girl's names. "You can and you will, unless you'd like to go to my parlour and continue this discussion with Miss Spencer Paddle, then you will come back here and tell us all what happened after Constable Wheeler left to escort Dustin back home."
Chelsea sobbed and closed her eyes as she tried to think about how to do this. When Dustin had first asked her out she had thought it was the coolest thing ever. At eighteen he really shouldn't have still been in high school, but he'd been made to repeat a year. He was good-looking and had a tough reputation. He was also a star of the school football team and had a really hot car. There were also rumours that he had a few tattoos, but Chelsea hadn't seen them yet.
"Ummm... after you and Constable Wheeler left," Chelsea said haltingly. "Mummy and Daddy yelled at me."
"Oh Chelsea," Gabrielle sighed. "Don't be so melodramatic. Your father and I were upset and, yes, some voices were raised, but I do not think we yelled at you."
"Daddy did," Chelsea whispered through her tears.
"All right, Chelsea Meaghan, have it your way," Gabrielle said from between pursed lips. "Your father shouted at you. Go on."
"Mummy sat down and ordered me over her lap," Chelsea continued.
"After I bared your naughty little bottom," Gabrielle interrupted.
"Yes, after that," Chelsea agreed, licking her lips and tasting the salt of her tears.
"Go on," Andrea encouraged the girl. "What did Mummy do once you were over her knee?"
"She spanked me, Aunty Andrea," Chelsea admitted. "First with her hand and then her hairbrush, it was a really hard one."
"It certainly was, had it not been so late at night I would have also been cutting a switch for you as well, young lady," Gabrielle said.
Dustin winced and desperately tried to think about something else because the thought of Chelsea Kennedy bare bottomed over her mother's lap was an arousing one. It did not help that Gabrielle Kennedy, despite being old enough to be his mother, was a very attractive woman.
"After Mummy spanked me, then Daddy did over his lap," Chelsea related.
"My goodness that must have hurt, Chelsea," Andrea said sympathetically. "Your Daddy is a big strong man."
"It did, Aunty, then he strapped me!"
"Ahhhh... Daddy's strap," Andrea said.
"No more than she deserved," Gabrielle commented. "She's lucky it wasn't worse. I can only imagine what my parents would have done if I'd been brought home by the police after curfew following participation in an illegal event."
Chelsea continued to cry.
"Do you have anything you'd like to say to Chelsea after putting her through that ordeal, Dustin?" Andrea asked, looking at the boy over her glasses.
Dustin swallowed hard and said softly, "Sorry."
"Oh, you will be, young man," Andrea said ominously. "You will be very sorry by the time I'm done with you."
Andrea rang through to reception and Kimberley's bright voice came over the phone. "Yes ma'am!"
"Can you please escort Chelsea out to reception, dear, and give her a cup of tea to settle her?"
Kimberley put her arm around her younger sister's shoulders and led her out to reception, speaking softly to her. She shot a venomous glare from around Chelsea's head at Dustin that made the eighteen-year-old flinch.
"Now it's been brought home to you how your actions can affect others, Dustin. Aunty Gabrielle and I need to impress upon you how they can directly affect you. Do you know how we're going to do that?"
Dustin looked at the ceiling, praying for divine intervention and croaked, "You're going to spank me."
"To begin with," Gabrielle muttered ominously.
Andrea couldn't help smile at that.
"Go and stand by Aunty Gabrielle, sweetheart," Andrea instructed.
Dustin touched his hair again, took a deep breath and stood by Gabrielle's knee as Andrea vacated the couch and sat in her armchair by the fire, watching proceedings.
The boy hadn't been spanked since he was small, but he still remembered the process. Feeling his cheeks heat up, he began to bend over Gabrielle's thighs.
"What do you think you're doing?" Gabrielle asked.
"You're going to spank me, aren't you, Aunty Gabrielle?"
"Yes, I most definitely am, but there is an order to these things, Dustin. Did you listen to what Chelsea said happened to her?"
"Yes, Aunty."
"What did I say happened to her before I spanked her?"
"I... uhhh... ummmm..." Dustin searched for words.
Andrea came to his rescue. "I was watching Dustin's face and body movements while you and Chelsea were detailing her punishment. He was trying to concentrate, but I don't think his full attention was on what you were saying. His mind was otherwise occupied."
Gabrielle smirked at Andrea's delicate explanation. "Well, Dustin," she began. "Aunty Andrea and I are believers in bare bottom discipline."
Dustin remembered what had been said about Chelsea's bottom being bared and blushed. He had thought being a boy that they wouldn't do that to him. He should have known it was too good to be true.
"Now you just stand there and let Aunty Gabrielle sort things out," Gabrielle requested. She lifted the boy's t-shirt up and he looked down in alarm. "Lift your arms so I can get this over your head, sweetie."
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