"EAVESDROPPING" ("Maternal Matrimony" #8) by the Crimson Kid F/m
(All rights reseved. This story's setting is on the next morning following "DISCIPLINE AND FORGIVENESS", at the McMichael residence in Yamamoto on the planet Vladivost, mid-28th century.)
As she had the previous morning, Nantessa entered her new brother's bedroom to awaken him. Unlike the day before, she wasn't carrying her 'Sibling Seat-Sizzler' paddle—and her grin as her regarded her sleeping brother was affectionate rather than smugly malicious.
Sitting down on the side of his bed, on just about the same spot that she'd occupied to administer three over-the-knee, bare-bottom wallopings to him over the previous twenty-four hours, Carlton's attractive older sister playfully ruffled his curly blond hair. His cornflower-blue eyes slowly opened as he hugged Esme, the teddy bear Nannie had given him the night before, tightly to his chest.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," Nantessa announced cheerily, "Mom says breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes."
"Uhhh...Hi, Nannie." Carlton regarded his teenaged sister groggily.
"Good morning, cutie." She lighty touched her pointer finger to his nose.
"Do you have something to give me...or should I go fetch my paddle and give YOU something?"
The five-year-old sat up hurriedly, reaching over to pick up a lumnicard from his bedstand.
"Huh-Here it is, Nannie." He returned the card that she'd given him the night before, the one that read, "GET OUT OF A WAKE-UP PADDLING FREE CARD."
She made a show of scrutinizing the card carefully, as her brother watched her face intently.
"Well...It looks okay, but—oh, wait—there are two other items I need from you for this card to be honored." She frowned pensively. "Do you have them for me?"
Carlton's mind raced—he couldn't remember any such conditions being given, but he'd been quite sleepy when Nannie had handed him the card.
"I, uh...I'm n-not sure, Nah-Nannie," he stammered uncertainly.
Nantessa sat straight up, pretending to be starting to stand up. "Well then, I'll go for the paddle now..." She bit her lip, suppressing a chuckle.
"No, Nannie," her little brother said quickly. "Wh-What do you need from me?"
She relaxed, looking warmly down at him.
"I'll need a big kiss and a long hug." She smiled fondly at the relief spreading across her younger sibling's features. "Can you give them to me?"
"Oh, dear sister...You're teasing me," Carlton beamed at her winningly, "But it's nice, friendly teasing, isn't it?"
"It is if you've got my hug and kiss for me." Nantessa twisted her torso toward her brother, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her in an embrace that lasted for two minutes—after which he climbed to his knees, leaned forward into her face and clumsily kissed her lips with a noisy smack.
"Paid in full," he announced laughingly.
Nantessa grinned playfully. "Why thank you, kind sir."
"Thank YOU, Nannie—for loving me like a true big sister." Carlton's eyes glistened. "I was hoping that you'd start to be a little sweet and caring to me sometime."
"Well, I'll do my best from now on." She traced a finger along the side of his face. "Since you won't be OVER my lap this morning, how about sitting ON it instead?" Nannie patted her lap three times. "You can tell me about any dreams you can remember, if you'd like..."
Her brother nodded sleepily, still slightly drowsy, then climbed happily onto her girlish thighs.
After spending several minutes cuddling on Nannie's lap, Carlton got cleaned up and dressed for breakfast. Since the nanolotion had worked effectively during the night and he hadn't been spanked that morning, he enjoyed his breakfast much more than he had a day earlier—when he'd been sitting on a freshly-paddled posterior.
Rebecca and her daughter kept up a friendly, feminine mealtime chatter that Carlton enjoyed listening to, even though he didn't participate in it himself. He was, however, given frequent affectionate smiles—which he shyly returned—by both of them, and Nannie helpfully refilled his juice cup when necessary.
An important piece of information that the young rejuve picked up from the breakfast conversation was that their family would be returning to Starbase Seventeen the following day. Rebecca would be resuming her Starfleet duties as the station's commander, while Nantessa would be returning to her studies at the 'Brat Academy,' as the starbase's advanced preparatory institute was called. Carlton, meanwhile, was going to be enrolled in the kindergarten class at the station's rejuve school.
Since it was the last full day that they would be spending on the planet for several weeks, Nantessa was planning to spend most of it with two of her close neighborhood girlfriends, taking the transport tube to Guderian to shop for new clothes—a Traditionalist practice that she eagerly anticipated. (She could much more easily have had her body proportions holoscanned and then ordered perfectly-fitting styles from the PlanetWeb HV interface's clothing sites, the method by which Carlton's clothing had recently been purchased by Rebecca, but Nantessa and her friends enjoyed old-style shopping excursions.)
Half an hour after breakfast, Nantessa hugged her mother, kissed her younger brother and left the house to meet with her friends. Aware that Carlton was feeling slightly downhearted at his sister's departure, especially since she had only just begun treating him compassionately rather than punitively, Rebecca allowed him to play outside in the back yard.
Since there was strong societal disapproval of casual contact between rejuves and kindern on Vladivost, and their neighborhood was primarily a non-rejuve community, his guardian strongly cautioned Carlton about staying in his own back yard.
"Remember, stay here and don't even talk to any other children," she warned him firmly but smilingly.
"Of course, Reb—I mean, uh...Yes, Mommy." Carlton's rational adult awareness was momentarily predominanting his psyche as he breathed in the brisk, clean springtime air—it was temporarily clearing the childlike emotions from his surface consciousness. He wanted to walk rapidly, breathe deeply and attempt to think clearly and logically about his troublesome situation.
After spending almost two hours in the fifty-degree weather, bundled up in a fur-lined brown leather coat that was a child-sized replica of a World War II American bomber pilot's flight jacket, Carlton finally returned inside. He was rosy-cheeked and breathing heavily from walking almost continually around the back yard, and he gratefully allowed his spousal guardian to help him remove his coat. As he had grown both tired physically and frustrated over his inability to escape his rejuved condition, he'd grudgingly recognized that his childish, reactive persona had been gradually gaining ascendance over his mental processes.
"You were outside for quite a while, honey," Rebecca remarked cheerfully, "Now you look a little worn out. Why don't you watch some HV programming or read a storydisk on your datapad while I make you some hot cocoa?"
"That sounds good," her ward agreed quickly. "Thank you, Mommy."
Forty minutes later, after they had enjoyed a light lunch together, his guardian instructed Carlton to go to his bedroom and take an afternoon nap.
"I'm expecting a visitor very soon, and we'll be speaking privately—grownup talk. So please stay in your room, sweetie, until I—" Just then the old-fashioned Terran-style doorbell chimed twice. "That must be her now." Rebecca stood up. "Come along, Carltie...You can say hello, then it's off to bed with you."
Carlton dutifully followed behind his one-time wife as she checked the identity scanner before opening the front door to admit a 5' 11" tall, moderately attractive thirtyish brunette wearing the light green uniform of the Yamamoto Police Division—including the rank insignia of a lieutenant and a stun-blast sidearm. He immediately recognized their visitor as Portia Highsmith, a six-month member of the Yamamoto chapter of the Interstellar Sorority of Spanking Spouses.
"Hi, Portia...Come in, please." Rebecca motioned for her guest to enter the house. "I'm certain you know about our...family situation."
"Yes, I've heard," the policewoman affirmed as she passed through the doorway.
Shutting the door by reactivating its magnalocks, Rebecca addressed her young ward.
"Carltie, I'm sure you remember Ms. Highsmith from our I.S.S.S. meetings..."
Carlton, feeling rather sleepy, responded distractedly. "Ummm...Hello, Portia."
"Carlton dear," his guardian admonished him sharply, "Little boys don't address adult women by their first names—at least if they want their bottoms to remain unspanked for any length of time, they don't."
Blushing and stammering, Carlton quickly apologized.
"Ah-I'm sorry, Ms. Huh-Highsmith, ma'am—I didn't meant it like that...It's ju-just that I'm still adjusting t-to my buh-being rejuved."
Smiling indulgently, Portia patted his head reassuringly. "No offense taken, Carltie—I know you must be having a tough adjustment period." She nodded at her hostess. "All of you, naturally."
"We're doing our best under the circumstances." Rebecca faced her young charge. "Carltie's going upstairs for his afternoon nap now, Portia...I just wanted him to greet you first."
"My pleasure, Becca." The pretty visitor beamed at the youngster. "If it's any consolation, Carltie, you make an absolutely adorable child."
"Thank you, ma'am." A rueful grin fleetingly crossed his face. "Bye now, Mommy."
"Sweet dreams, honey." His guardian kissed Carlton's forehead, then he left the two women and mounted the stairs ascending from the hallway.
Although he was feeling quite drowsy, Carlton was intrigued by Portia's visit—which had obviously been scheduled to coincide with his naptime. He decided to sit on the carpeted landing at the top of the stairway, where he wouldn't be visible from the living room, before going to his own room. The acoustics of the classically-constructed house were such that he would be able to both overhear the living room conversation and be forewarned of anyone's casual approach from that direction—he would have adequate time to rush to his bedroom without being spotted, as long as he stayed alert.
Allowing his innate curiosity to override his adult awareness that such espionage should be beneath his dignity and his childlike concern over the consequences of being caught, Carlton slumped back dreamily against the top stairpost and raptly listened...
"I assume that this means you'll be leaving the Sorority, doesn't it?"
"I already have, Portia—after all, it's not an organization supporting the corporal punishment of children, rejuved or otherwise."
"But you do believe in that too, as a Traditionalist...Correct?"
"Well, my particular branch of Traditionalism does believe in the extensive use of sound spanking as a form of discipline for children, especially boys of all ages—but administered exclusively by females."
"I really wanted to discuss the correction of husbands by wives—actually, my problems in disciplining Nathan."
"Nathan signed a Sorority-generated contract agreeing to accept spousal disciplinary spankings from you, didn't he?"
"Yes, but he's so sullen about it, Becca—always arguing and only partly co-operating after I've nagged him repeatedly..."
"Don't nag him at all, sister—that's a mistake. Continue to address him politely, even sweetly, but increase the length and severity of his chastisement—if you were going to administer a bare-assed strapping, for example, add on a good hard paddling after some brief corner time."
"Will that work, do you think?"
"If you remind him firmly that he's under a marital female-disciplinarian contract, and that his disregarding its conditions could jeopardize your marriage—and then administer the promised punishment strictly and completely."
"Carlton was always so obedient when you gave him those pants-down wallopings at our monthly meetings, even though he was clearly very embarrassed at being bare-bottomed in front of all of us Sorority sisters. I wish I could have gotten a crack at his bare behind with my paddle—that bubblebutt of his always seemed so saucily impudent, I'd have loved to redden it for him!"
The feminine voices faded away...
"Carlton Kristain!"
Reacting to his one-time wife's penetrating voice, Carlton dazedly awakened to stare up at her towering over his supine body as he lay on the stairway landing.
"You get up from there immediately, young man," she commanded curtly.
"Oh-Okay, Mommy..." He awkwardly staggered to his feet, almost losing his balance before his guardian roughly grasped his left bicep to steady him.
Rebecca's bright blue eyes were flashing angrily, which Carlton recognized as a highly troublesome sign of things to come.
"Carlton Roman Kristain, were you listening in on our conversation from here?" Keeping a firm grip on his upper arm, she met his eyes intently before he desperately averted his gaze.
Groggily cognizant that Rebecca's use of his full name invariably indicated that a very sound chastisement was immediately upcoming, Carlton bit his lip and nodded slowly, staring forlornly down at the beige carpeting.
"Yes Mommy, I was." He gulped, feeling overwhelmed by guilt. "I...uh...I'm really sorry, ma'am."
"You don't know sorry yet, dear boy," his spousal guardian announced calmly, "But you will—I promise you that." Releasing his arm, she pointed down the stairs. "To the living room...March!"
As soon as she observed Carlton dejectedly trudging into the room, followed closely by a determined-looking Rebecca, Portia knew that there was a disciplinary issue to be resolved.
"What's wrong, Becca?" she asked, sitting up straight on the well-padded couch.
"Carltie fell asleep while eavesdropping on our private conversation." Touching her young charge's shoulder, Rebecca brought him to a halt directly in front of Portia.
Tears were beginning to well in Carlton's eyes as he reluctantly faced the policewoman,
"I'm very suh-sorry, Ms. Highsmith," he said quietly, "I was rude and I'm go-going to be...ummm...disciplined by Mommy for my misbehavior."
"First of all," Rebecca stated pointedly, "You're going to be punished by BOTH of us. You'll get it from me for disobedience—not going to your bedroom when told to—and from our guest for disrespect—invading her privacy by eavesdropping."
"Yes, Mommy." Carlton swallowed hard.
"Secondly, I want you to request your chastisement from Ms. Highsmith—and I want to hear the words 'SPANK' and 'SPANKING' loud and clear, sweetheart." Rebecca glanced at her friend. "Would a big wooden cooking spoon work for you here, Portia?"
Portia nodded briefly. "Absolutely, Becca."
"Carltie?" Rebecca's eyebrows arched.
"Ms. Highsmith, please give me a sound bare-bottom spanking for disrespecting your privacy." The little boy hesitated, looking truly miserable, then continued. "May I bring you the wooden spoon to spank me with?"
"You may indeed, thank you." Portia smiled bemusedly. "Go ahead, Carltie."
Downcast but fatalistically resolute, the five-year-old turned and walked out toward the kitchen.
By the time Carlton returned carrying the oversized, flat-backed kitchen spoon, Portia had detached her holstered sidearm and set it on the coffee table.
Rebecca was also re-entering the living room, holding a quarter-inch-thick cedar paddle—it's generally-rectangular striking surface was semi-rounded opposite its handle, and it was slightly longer and narrower than Nantessa's 'Sibling Seat-Sizzler.'
"Check this out, sister." She handed the paddle, which was lightly varnished and stained a chestnut brown, to her guest. "It's a 'Mother's Helper' paddle, a classic Penitatas-rated seat-smacker, that I ordered from the Stinging Upbringing outlet in Clark Center." She glanced wryly at her spousal ward, who was standing anxiously in front of Portia.
Under the large red "MOTHER'S HELPER" lettering was the slogan that the paddle's manufacturer, Tokyo Rose Spanking Supplies, promoted to describe its 'Helper' paddles, "Thousands of tears without a single bruise," in smaller navy blue print. The company's logo, a crimson heart with "Smart Love" imprinted in black on its center, was beneath the slogan just above the implement's handle.
"Nice-looking little buttwhacker." Portia took a short practice swing with the lightweight paddle. "It should sting quite sharply without bruising, even during an extended spanking." Handing the 'Mother's Helper' back to her friend, she turned toward Carlton.
"Do you have something for me, naughty child?" She held out her upturned right hand.
"Yes, ma'am." He gently placed the wooden spoon's slim nine-inch handle onto her palm, and she gripped it tightly.
"Thank you so much." She looked at Rebecca questioningly. "So who pulls down his pants and underpants?"
"Whomever you wish to," her hostess replied, "Him, you or me..."
Portia turned back to Carlton. "Bare your bottom for me, please."
"Yes, ma'am." A tear trickled down his left cheek as the young rejuve lowered his khaki trousers and powder blue briefs to his knees.
Rebecca handed Portia one of the small couch pillows. "Put this on your right thigh and it will lift up his bare fanny to give you a more open target."
"Excellent idea." After following that advice the strong policewoman reached forward, easily scooped up her youthful spankee and unceremoniously plopped him bottomside up across her lap. She then adjusted his position leftward, noting that the additional elevation of his naked buttocks did indeed result in optimal exposure of his tender 'sit spot' at the base of his posterior.
Carlton began sobbing softly as Portia lifted the large flat-backed cooking spoon in her right hand while her left hand pressed firmly against the small of his back; his chubby bare bumcheeks began quivering lightly.
"Well sister, it looks like you WILL get a crack at walloping my husband's cute bare bubblebutt after all—even though it's somewhat smaller, it's twin hemispheres are still nicely rounded and sticking up rather invitingly." Rebecca patted the 'Mother's Helper' against her left palm. "Then I'll give this stingy 'Helper' paddle an extended audition on my disobedient little boy's bare derriere."
Portia addressed Carlton sweetly. "You know I have to make this spanking spoon sting your bare buns very intensely—but it's for your own good, Carltie. Are you ready to learn a long, hard lesson about eavesdropping, young man?"
"Yeh-Yes, ma'am," he replied tearfully, as she raised the wooden spoon high above his trembling, nakedly-exposed boyish bottomcheeks.
"Then take this!" The athletic policewoman swung the wooden spoon forcefully downward, and it impacted sharply against the center of her hapless bare-bottomed spankee's right buttock—CRACK!!
The second blistering swat rapidly followed, connecting blisteringly to his lower left asscheek—SMACK!!
In spite of Carlton's childish weeping and wailing as his hips squirmed vainly, the disciplinary lesson continued unabated—WHACK!! CRACK!! SMACK!! CRACK!!—while his spousal guardian patiently awaited her turn...
{THE END}
