"YIKES!" ("Maternal Matrimony" #14) by the Crimson Kid F/m
(All rights reserved. This story's setting begins the morning after the conclusion of "AFTERMATH", in the McMichael family's quarters on Starbase Seventeen, orbiting the planet Vladivost in the mid-28th century.)
Even as he was grudgingly fighting to wakefulness, Carlton was aware that his big sister's touch lacked its usual affection; Nantessa was shaking his shoulders rather than lifting him into a warm embrace.
"Get up, Carltie," she instructed curtly.
He sleepily stared at her hard-set features. "You're upset with me, Nannie, aren't you?"
"I'm upset with myself too, for giving you that paddling-free lumnicard before I went to my powerball match." The thirteen-year-old frowned down at her little brother. "Now I can't demonstrate my dismay over your unacceptable behavior in the manner that I'd prefer."
The young rejuve sighed, knowing that his disapproving sibling wasn't allowed to corporally correct him for general misconduct, but only for offenses that directly affected her. He had a scheduled wake-up paddling due from her that morning, it being Thursday, but the lumnicard could be submitted to cancel that chastisement.
"So instead I'll get the typical female ice treatment," he surmised. "No smiles, hugs or kisses for me today, huh?"
"After spying on your babysitter in the shower, using our high-security surveillence system?" The pretty teenager snorted contemptuously. "I may have acted jealous of her before, but she didn't deserve that."
"No, she didn't," Carlton agreed. "Her name's Yolanda, by the way."
"Just give me the lumnicard," his older sibling ordered, "Then I'll be gone."
The five-year-old inhaled deeply, pausing before speaking. "It's on top of my shelf there."
Nantessa stepped over to the omniplast shelf, but the only item on it was an old-style wooden kitchen spoon, a flat-backed, oversized one with a flexiform handle. Picking it up, she swung it lightly.
"Mom gave you a break by not applying this to your bare buns last night—I've been told that she cut your punishment in half." Her expression became puzzled. "But where's the paddling-free card?"
"I...ummm...misplaced it, Miss Nantessa," he replied quietly, using the form of address required during a disciplinary session. Dawning awareness brightened the girl's attractive features.
"Then you'll have to take a very sound bare-bottom blistering from me, young man, won't you?" She lightly slapped the spoon's hard back against her left palm, then set the impromptu punitive implement on the bedstand. "How fortuitous that this spanking spoon happened to be left here, since I didn't bring my 'Seat Sizzler' paddle—I thought you'd give me the card, naturally."
Carlton climbed up onto his knees, then he patted his bed's edge. "If you'd like to sit here, Miss Nantessa, I'll lie across your lap for my wake-up paddling."
His bemused sister didn't require a second invitation, seating herself promptly then helping the rejuve into proper position as he crawled across her knees. Pressing her left hand against the small of his back, the teenager deftly unbuttoned and lowered the seat flap of her sibling's 'Doctor Denton' pajamas with the fingers of her right.
"Nanolotion does it again." Her palm patted the pale, pristine surface of the exposed plump posterior bent over her right thigh, then she picked up the wooden spoon. "I have a blank white canvas to paint with brilliant shades of red, artistically speaking."
"Thuh-That's nice, ma'am...Ah-I guess." the five-year's upturned naked buttocks were twitching in anxious anticipation.
Gripping the cooking spoon's handle tightly, Nantessa raised the traditional instrument of correction above her shoulder.
"Carltie dear, I appreciate your accepting what you deserve from me," she resolutely informed the trembling youngster, "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm highly displeased with your misbehavior and your naughty bare behind is going to pay in spades for it...So prepare for a long, hot trip to Sorebottom City."
"Yes, Miss Nantessa." He inhaled nervously, resisting the urge to clench his nether cheeks, as the wooden spoon whistled downward toward its vulnerable target.
SMACK!! The first stinging swat connected smartly to the center of Carlton's right buttcheek, making him exhale sharply.
CRACK!! The second resounding whack, delivered five seconds later, impacted against his lower left gluteal globe and he exhaled again.
The thirteen-year-old then quickly settled into a steady but deliberate rhythm with swift, powerful strokes of the oversized hardwood spoon, plastering the entire lower half of her spankee's bouncy bare bumcheeks but focusing most of her disciplinary attentions on the sensitive 'spank spot' just above his thighcreases. The pistol-shot cracks rang out with regularity as the spoonback's fiery smacks rapidly effected progresssive changes in coloration—blushing pink, bright pink, rosy red, fire-engine red, finally deep crimson with twin maroon ovals—on the boyish buns squirming across Nantessa's athletic thighs.
The young rejuve's gasps and yelps soon became wails and sobs, then shamelessly-uninhibited continuous bawling, accompanied by futile kicking of legs and twisting of hips as the intensive disciplinary session proceeded to its flaming-hot finish. It was only after eight solid minutes of sound sisterly spanking that the chastisement finally concluded and the feminine punisher gently helped her blubbering brother to his feet, faced him toward her and hugged him tightly.
"It's okay now, sweetheart," she soothingly assured the weeping child, whose tears were soaking into her school uniform blouse. "Go ahead and cry it out, Carltie...That's my brave baby brother...You're forgiven and I love you so much..."
With her right hand softly rubbing his back while her left caressed his fine, curly hair, Nantessa delivered physical and verbal comfort over several minutes while her Medicalos sibling recovered his childish composure.
"Feeling better now, honey?" she asked after his ragged sobbing had subsided to quiet sniffling.
His face flushed and tearstained, Carlton pulled back to smile crookedly at his caring chastiser. "Much better, Nannie...Thank you for the punishment and the forgivenesss. I'll try hard to behave better in the future, so you and Mommy can be proud of me."
"We're proud of you already," the thirteen-year-old rejoined, "For being so honest in accepting the discipline you deserve. However, you need to work on being a good boy so you won't require any correction in the first place." She shook her head regretfully. "It's not easy making you cry so pitifully, sweetie."
The red-bottomed youngster couldn't help grinning wryly. "It isn't all that much fun for me either, Nannie."
She giggled. "Yes, I did receive that impresssion." Reaching back, the young teen patted the bed. "Lie down and I'll apply some herbal cream to those glowing-hot glutes—but you still won't be 'sitting pretty' at school today, I'm afraid."
The kindergartener nodded. "Thank goodness for those foamseats..."
Five minutes later, after gently rubbing soothing ointment on her little brother's buttocks then changing out of her tear-soaked white blouse, Nantessa entered the kitchen where her mother was efficiently cooking breakfast on an old-style two-burner protoelectric range.
"Here's your wooden spoon, Mom." The buoyant girl placed the culinary implement into the minisanitizer and activated its cleansing spray and sterilizing ultrawaves.
"It doesn't seem to get used much for cooking, does it?" Rebecca's eyebrows arched quizzically.
Her daughter chortled. "But I just used it for cooking, in the sense of heating up something."
"You seem much happier than you did before waking Carltie," the admiral noted cheerily, expertly flipping pancakes out of the polyconde pan with a wrist-flick of her wide polyinse spatula, "While I'm guessing that his behind is much hotter now, judging from the sounds I overheard from his bedroom."
"Didn't you wallop Carltie for eavesdropping a few days ago?" the teenager asked impishly.
"I didn't have to eavesdrop, sweetness," her mother explained, "Not with all the noise you two made. You swing a crisp-smacking kitchen spoon, your brother's got a good set of lungs—and I have abundant knowledge of what a first-class bare-bottom spanking sounds like."
"That's for certain," the girlish adolescent agreed.
Carlton, freshly washed and wearing a kindergarten uniform, entered the kitchen and received affectionate smiles from both female family members.
"Now I understand why you insisted that I leave the spanking spoon in your bedroom last night." Rebecca frowned uncertainly. "Why did you want your chubby bumcheeks whacked by Nannie this morning, when you could have postponed it with the lumnicard instead?"
"Because she would have acted cold and distant until she eventually got me over her lap," he explained. "She was going to paddle me good sooner or later, so why not get it over with right away? Then at least she'd be comforting me and treating me nicely afterward."
"That sounds reasonable, sweetie," the admiral agreed, "But I'd imagine you might have experienced second thoughts once that hardwood started cracking against your bare behind."
"I definitely got that idea," Nantessa observed devilishly, playfully ruffling her brother's blond curls. "I guess you really blew it big-time yesterday, huh cutie?"
The five-year-old nodded sheepishly. "I even warned Billy that we'd be punished if we tried any tricks on Miss Yolanda."
His big sister laughed liltingly, then put her hand on Carlton's shoulder.
"Okay, let me get this straight, baby brother..." She chuckled softly. "You knew that you'd both get your fannies fried if you got into any mischief with your babysitter, but you still accessed our surveillence system at your penny buddy's request?"
The Medicalos fidgeted. "Well, ummm...Yes, I guess so."
The young teen shook her head in mock incredulity. "Tell me, did you LIKE being walloped butt-naked across the lieutenant's lap, Carltie?"
"Of course not," he replied defensively.
"I don't know," Nantessa mused teasingly, "You certainly seem to go out of your way to get spanked by good-looking women." She lightly touched a finger to her sibling's nose. "So whom do you love the most in the whole galaxy, little boy?"
"You and Mommy, Nannie," he responded simply, "You know that."
"But it's nice to hear anyway," interjected Rebecca, still preparing pancakes on the minirange while she listened to her children's light-hearted bantering.
"Yes, it is," her daughter agreed. "Carltie loves us more than anyone else, and we feel the same toward him." She dropped her finger to gently lift the boy's chin. "Now, cutie, who's corporally chastised you the most since you've been rejuved?"
"That would be you and Mommy also," Carlton conceded.
"Whom else do you seem to like a lot?" The thirteen-year-old pursed her lips. "How about that babysitter who made you strip to the buff for a red-hot trip to Sorebottom City last night—besides Mommy and myself, is there anyone else you're as fond of as her?"
The kindergartener pondered the question. "Well...Aunt Portia, she was really sweet to me."
"That helps prove my point, darling boy, since her interaction with your rejuved self involved smacking your bare seat with a wooden spoon." His pretty sister giggled. "Are there any females you've encountered as a rejuve who haven't given you a good sound spanking, sweetie?"
"Both of Billy's parents," the kindergartener offered.
"Only because Miss Lamonica declined your kind offer to present her with a twin-moon target for her hairbrush—according to a third-hand account." Nantessa leaned over and kissed her brother's forehead. "Seriously, Carltie, that was very noble of you; I'm truly impressed." Her eyebrows arched questioningly. "Anyone else?"
"Mrs. Kemp, my teacher," the five-year-old rejoined.
"You've only been in school for two days," his sibling countered with a grin. "I'll give it a week more until you're pants-down over her lap."
"You children may set the table," the admiral instructed, "We're almost ready for breakfast."
Minutes later, enjoying his spousal guardian's traditional morning cuisine, Carlton inquired about the reception she'd attended the previous evening.
"So how was your old Academy rival, Mommy?"
"Her usual combination of whining and domineering," Rebecca replied bluntly. "Even Reub—Captain Moseley found it difficult to stomach that woman's self-centered ego-tripping, although he did his best." She sniffed demeaningly. "Alexan—Commodore Malevelle kept complaining about how much harder it is to get promotions in Military Justice than it is in other branches of Starfleet; she doesn't like it that I outrank her."
"Did she graduate when you did, Mom?" Nantessa asked ingenuously.
"She was a year behind me at the Academy, a year ahead of your father," her mother explained.
"Hmmm..." The young teen paused pensively. "So weren't you afraid that she'd try to get Daddy back as her boyfriend after you'd graduated? You weren't stationed near the Academy, were you?"
"No, I wasn't," the admiral stated, "I was at the Starfleet medical training center on Posteria Primus." She glanced at her one-time husband in his childlike body. "Your father, being intelligent, athletic and handsome, was a potential romantic magnet for plenty of female cadets—including Alexandra Malevelle—even though he could be slipshod academically in his youth."
"But he stayed faithful to you," her daughter noted. "Also he graduated pretty high in his class, didn't he?"
"Thirty-third out of over five hundred," Rebecca confirmed, "Three places behind the objective I'd set for him."
"Mommy was salutatorian of her class," Carlton added quiety.
"Still, Daddy resisted those other women when you weren't around and must have applied himself pretty well in his classes," the teenager surmised.
"Well, don't give him all the credit for that." The blue-uniformed woman smiled cryptically and winked at her Medicalos ward, who had begun to blush.
He hurriedly changed the subject. "How did your powerball match turn out, Nannie?"
Nantessa beamed. "We beat the league's leading team, thirteen to eight, so now we're tied for second but only one game out of first place. I scored twice, by the way."
"So you're the top-scoring outer defender in the league, right?" Her brother's voice reflected sibling satisfaction, which formerly had been paternal pride, regarding the girl's athletic prowess.
She nodded, obviously pleased. "It's great to have such an admiring fan, cutie..."
During their class's morning relaxation time, a thirty-minute period set aside for quiet gaming or private conversation, Carlton described the previous evening's 'peeping tom' misadventure and its disciplinary consequences (including that morning's wake-up paddling from Nantessa) to his kindergarten compatriot Montana. After the narrative had concluded, the cute little girl grimaced sympathetically.
"So you ended up getting FIVE bare-assed spankings for one offense?" She sounded incredulous.
"No, just three," the boyish blond countered, "But my mother actually cancelled the second half of my bedtime punishment from her."
Montana shrugged doubtfully. "Four dozen licks with a strap seems like a full-fledged butt-whipping to me...Anyway, the babysitter walloped you three different times, didn't she?"
Her comrade smiled wryly. "Well, I'd call it one extended two-part chastisement—plus the penalty strokes with her belt for being disobedient." He shivered, feeling a sudden chill. "Miss Yolanda certainly plays a mean game of 'babysitter reds,' doesn't she?"
The girlish brunette frowned. "That kind of discipline strikes me as sadistic, Carltie."
"That's totally untrue, Mon," Carlton protested. "I deserved all the punishment I received, and it was followed by forgivenesss and comfort each time." His eyes looked downward. "In fact, I still feel guilty about disappointing Mommy, Nannie and Miss Yolanda with my dishonest misconduct—they may never trust me again."
"Did they say that, any of them?" she demanded curtly. "Did your mom change the codeword or delete your thumbprint from the security system's accesss?"
"No, I don't think so," the boy admitted.
"Then don't be so damned hard on yourself, Carltie," his friend urged firmly. "If they each say you've been forgiven, take them at their words."
He sighed regretfully. "Mommy even warned me about letting Billy take the lead in our relationship, yet I still let him talk me into misbehaving badly."
"Didn't I caution you about that myself, sweet boy?" Montana put her hand on top of her rueful comrade's.
"So do you want to spank me too?" Carlton's tone was somberly sarcastic.
"That sounds like it could be fun." She grinned slyly. "Come on, I'm kidding." Her hand gently squeezed his. "As you've told me yourself, being caringly corrected is one aspect of being loved. While it seems awfully severe to me, it's supposedly strict Traditionalist child-rearing—but isn't no grudges held afterward part of it also?"
"You're right, Mon." He smiled crookedly at his fellow Medicalos. "Thanks for the enlightenment, lovely lady."
Montana squeezed her friend's hand again. "Anytime, Carltie."
After supper that evening, Lavinia arrived with Billy at the McMichael family's quarters. Upon being admitted inside by Rebecca, the commodore addressed her Starfleet superior.
"Becca, I believe that Billy has something to tell you." She gave her new son a no-nonsense look.
The admiral gazed down at the Penitatas visitor, who was attired in play clothes. "Yes, Billy dear?"
"Ahhh...I'm s-sorry ahhuh-bout my mih-misconduct last nuh-night," he stammered chokingly.
"Carltie's expressed similar sentiments to me," his hostess noted primly, "But he seemed more genuinely remorseful." She paused in thought. "However, I helped him achieve that attitude by giving him a sound bare-bottom strapping. Would you require that kind of assistance also, Billy?"
"No, ma'am," the anxious rejuve replied quickly. "Both of my parents have already punished me for my...little prank...with the babysitter."
Rebecca smiled indulgently. "Then we'll let it go at that—THIS time. Are you here to see Carltie?"
Billy nodded, grudgingly forcing himself to be polite. "Please, ma'am."
"Certainly, sweetie." The admiral motioned toward the hallway. "He's in his room, go on in."
Relieved to be leaving the company of the two formidable women, the six-year-old scooted away towards his fellow rejuve's bedroom. He'd had a difficult day thus far...
Like Carlton, Billy had been given an emphatic wake-up paddling—his had come courtesy of Lavinia, who had pulled down his pajama bottoms before putting him across her thighs for a brisk six-minute seat-smacking with the 'Helper' paddle that had left him haplessly blubbering. After five minutes of nose-to-the-wall cornertime, lower sleepwear puddled around his ankles, the whimpering penny had been directed by the commodore to bend over the edge of his bed for thirty whistling, cracking-hard strokes of a Penitatas-rated leather strap that had seared across his quivering naked buttocks.
Later during the day the youngster had undergone two hour-long muscular training sessions, one before lunch and the other in mid-afternoon, designed to improve his large-motor coordination. Selena had closely supervised the exercises and had evaluated her young charge at the end of each sixty-minute period, awarding two marks—one for effort and the other for performance. Any grade lower than an 'A' resulted in penalty strokes applied to Billy's exposed posterior via his beautiful instructor's leather belt—ten for every level below 'A' in effort, five for every one in performance.
The late-morning training session had resulted in the barely-cooperative child earning a 'D' for effort and a 'C' for performance, meaning that he'd received thirty (3x10) penalty licks based on effort and another ten (2x5) based on performance—a total of forty sizzling strokes. The afternoon exercises had produced only marginal improvement, a 'C' in each area, which had been followed by a bare-assed leathering of thirty fiery lashes with Selena's belt.
"I've still got a bedtime date with Aunt Selena's hairbrush," the sore-bottomed penny said glumly, after relating his day's experiences to his boyish compatriot. "Is this what I can expect for the next six years?"
"Well, the unearned chastisements will probably lessen after a couple weeks," Carlton explained clinically, "But you can expect strict behavior standards to be applied as long as you're a hard-time Penitatas." He sighed resignedly. "The best strategy is to always be respectful and obedient toward adult authorities, especially your parents—in other words, avoid earning punishments."
"That won't be easy for me," Billy acknowledged, "I'm not accustomed to dealing with females that way; it's going to be tricky staying out of trouble."
"I know what you mean." The five-year-old nodded in reflective agreement. "It looks like I'm taking up permanent residence in Sorebottom City."
The boys eventually went into Rebecca's bedroom and used her holovision field to try the two-player variation of Carlton's 'Jungles of Guadalcanal' simulgame. Billy had played simulgames extensively during his abruptly-terminated existence as a college student at U.K.T.T.; he defeated his host twice—once playing each side in the historically-accurate competition.
After casually conversing for ninety minutes, Lavinia informed her young penny that it was time to return home. Managing to keep from protesting that maternal decision, the six-year-old asked permisssion for Carlton to visit him the following evening.
"I don't see why not," the commodore affirmed, "Provided that you're a good boy tomorrow."
"Socialization is important for rejuved children," Rebecca noted agreeably. "Of course, Carlton will be subject to your and Selena's discipline while he's a guest in your quarters, Lavie."
"Likewise for you when Billy's here under your supervision," the older woman rejoined. "That applies to Nannie also, if you're out and she's left in charge."
The two rejuves sighed almost simultaneously, each realizing that two names had been added to his figurative list of potential feminine spankers.
Once the guests had departed, Nantessa was approached in her bedroom by her mother.
"Sweetness, would you give Carltie his bath tonight?" the woman asked rhetorically. "I've been told that the starbase's newly-arrived Military Intelligence liaison officer will be reporting here soon."
"Sure, Mom." Nantessa frowned uncertainly. "But why wouldn't she wait until tomorrow to introduce herself during duty hours?"
The admiral shrugged. "Who can tell with these Intelligence types?"
Just then the entry-request sensor chimed in the living room.
"I'll check it, Mommy," Carlton's voice announced. "Yikes!"
Nantessa stepped into the hallway where her little brother was dazedly backing away from the living room, his hands protectively pressed against his buttcheeks.
"Carltie, what's wrong?" she asked sharply as he brushed against her hips.
"It's...her!" The young Medicalos abruptly turned and dashed into his bedroom.
"What's wrong with Carltie?" Entering the living room, Rebecca picked up the dropped control pad and activated the doorway's holoview field; the midair image that appeared was that of a pertly-plump woman in her mid-thirties, dark-complected with long chestnut hair, wearing the black-and-silver Starfleet uniform of a commander in Military Intelligence. "Oh my—Rosie!"
"Who's Rosie?" The young teen was perplexed.
"Bring your brother out here, Nannie," her mother instructed. "Tell him that his behind is perfectly safe—except from me, if he behaves rudely."
"Okay, Mom." The girl strode down the hallway as the admiral opened the entrance via the control pad.
The beaming officer entered the quarters, stopped after two steps and snapped a smart salute as the door slid shut behind her.
"Commander Rosita Septien, Military Intelligence liaison officer for Starbase Seventeen, ma'am," she announced briskly.
"Nice salute, commander," the admiral remarked, "But what I require is a hug."
"Your wish is my command." Rosita laughed and spread her arms, then the two women walked toward one another into a mutual embrace.
The children entered the living room as the ladies pulled apart.
"So that's why our new Intelligence officer wanted to drop by personally," Nantessa surmised. "You're old friends from the Academy, I suppose...?"
"More than friends," Rebecca replied. "Rosie performed a vital personal service for myself and your father after I'd graduated—it relates to our breakfast talk, actually." She indicated the two siblings. "This is my Kindern daughter Nantessa, Nannie for short, and your former classmate Carlton, whom we call Carltie. Children, this is...Aunt Rosie, you'll call her—my disciplinary proxy for two years." Her gaze focused on Carlton. "Young man, you'd better have a warm greeting for her after your ill-mannered failure to open the door."
"H-Hello, Aunt Roh-Rosie," the boyish rejuve stammered, "Ah-I'm sorry about the d-doorway, ma'am, I j-just reacted emotionally wh-when I saw you."
"Apology accepted, Carltie." The commander smiled sweetly. "I'm sure that seeing me was quite a surprise, given our Academy relationship—but I'm not here to discipline you, darling."
"So you're aware of Carltie's situation?" Nantessa wondered out loud. "An Intelligence officer, I'd guess you would be, but...Mom's disciplinary proxy?"
"That means I kept your father 'on the straight and narrow,' Nannie," Rosita explained, "Kind of his guardian angel."
Rebecca grinned. "An observant angel wielding paddles and straps."
"I didn't use the overblown term disciplinary proxy," the Intelligence officer stated, "I just called myself Carlton's designated spanker."
"Now Aunt Rosie's back in our lives, posted to this starbase." The admiral seemed highly pleased. "So what do you think of that, Carltie dear?"
Carlton gulped. "Yikes!"
{THE END}
