April wasn’t ready for bed.

She paced her room wearing skimpy satin pj’s and holding a textbook. She was thoughtful. Millie had to knock twice on the door before she’d answer “come”.

“Um, am I bothering?” Millie asked.

April looked up and smiled feebly. “Not at all. I’m just rehearsing for tomorrow’s test...” she threw the book down on the bed, “... and it ain’t coming out too good anyway.” She shrugged.

“Which subject?” Millie asked as she walked in.

“Maths. No one told me there would be maths in Social Studies. You know, statistics and all that.”

“I’m good at maths. It was a big part of the first year of Chemistry. Maybe I can give ya a hand.”

April smiled. “Why, thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure.”

Millie closed the door behind her and surveyed the room. She couldn’t bring herself to like the dark, black-themed and often strong content of April’s posters and decorations, though the room had a pretty cool look to it as a whole. She knew well how April was working hard to get rid of her past as a brainwashed Goth, and still, having a Marilyn Manson stand-up in her walk-in closet didn’t seem like the idea of the century. She didn’t comment though, as it was none of her business.

“Can’t sleep?” April asked as she plopped down on the bed, sprawled on her back.

“Yeah. I’m tired though. Been talking to Maggie and stuff. Didn’t you hear?”

“I keep the music up. Not my business to eavesdrop,” April said, making Millie feel guilty for a second. Then the black-haired girl sighed. “I thought she’d gone straight to bed anyway.”

“Nope, was in a talking mood. She... well, she told me of when you and her... you know... the driving license episode.”

April’s eyes widened and she gulped. “... okay. Well, it’s over now.”

“Thankfully.”

“No kidding!”

Millie sat on April’s bed and hugged a pillow. “That was the worst, huh?”

April nodded. “Yeah, though last Sunday’s is probably the runner-up.”

“Uh oh.”

“More like ‘uh owww’,” April sighed. For a moment she resembled Maggie’s battered-dog expression more than her own cocky street girl one.

“But what had you done so bad?”

April didn’t reply, and instead poked out her tongue. Millie thought she was being goofy with her and started to giggle... until she noticed a bruise the size of a pea in the middle of April’s tongue, and she frowned.

“What is that?”

“That, is what remains of my tongue piercing.”

Maggie’s eyes went wide with shock. “No way!”

“Yeah... way...”

“April Roxanne, I have half a mind to spank you myself!”

For a moment she feared April wouldn’t get it as a joke, but she did and playfully smacked her, though blushing.

“I know, it was stupid.”

“After what you’ve been through to get rid of all of your pierces, I can’t believe you did that.” Maggie reached over and gently brushed April’s eyebrows, where the skin was still partly morbid after the removal procedure. April gently, but firmly, swatted her hand away.

“Yes, and it’s hard to believe I fell for it again, but... well I did.”

“But why sis?”

April shrugged. “Dunno. Relapse I guess. Just felt good to feel some steel again, and the pain, and the overall thingy... oh well you know.”

“I guess. Now I see why Mum says you have a very clean mouth.”

“Um...”

“What?”

“I mean... that’s not the end of it. You think I would confess about the piercing thing but... well... Mum caught me instead and you know how much I hate being caught red-handed.”

“Uh huh.”

“So, that’s lying to her eyes... and I also talked back... and you know the rule about that is ‘no foul language’... and I never really took that rule for real.”

Millie’s jaw dropped at the realisation of her suspicions. “She washed your mouth out!”

April looked away, again embarrassed.

“Like, with the soap?”

“Duh... that is so childish it made me angry, and that made things much worse. I really thought I was being treated unfairly, and... well, I suppose it’s better if you hear the whole story.”

Instead of saying ‘yes! yes!’ like she’d want, Millie limited herself to a quiet: “Only if you want to.”

“Oh it’s fine. I got nothing to hide...”

~*~

Still dressed in her army green nightie, April approached the sink and spat. Just as she’d thought, there were tiny droplets of blood. She poked out her tongue and looked at herself in the mirror: the area around the piercing was red and swollen, but much less than yesterday.

April sighed and shook her head. She knew very well that to pierce herself again was a major relapse for something she had fought hard to get rid of, and still, she couldn’t help it. It just felt too good. She really wouldn’t have believed that changing her ways from one day to the other could be so hard.

Unfortunately for her, the twenty-year-old was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Cheryl’s footsteps on the stairs until it was too late. The woman she now called ‘Mum’ walked in the bathroom asking something about toothpaste and saw her ‘daughter’ looking at the mirror. She only caught a quick glance of her tongue, but more than enough for her to understand.

“My... oh... April!!” she bellowed as she saw the blood in the sink.

“Shit... n-no Mum wait, it’s...”

Cheryl had to fight back the instinct of slapping the girl’s face. “Open your mouth this instant, April Roxanne!”

Her no-nonsense tone was, well, no-nonsense, and despite feeling her stomach churn and her heart beat a million times a second, April had to comply. She parted her lips just a little, and Cheryl did the rest, yanking the girl’s mouth open and looking in.

“Oh my goodness,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “April... when... when did you do that?”

Now she sounded more sad and disappointed than angry, and April dared to roll her eyes. Not out of stubbornness or defiance... just... just because. “Damn, it’s just a piercing...”

Cheryl was hurt though, and didn’t fight to hide it. “Well I’m sorry if it’s so annoying!” she said, raising her voice. “And it’s not just a piercing, and watch your mouth anyway! Now you listen to me, little girl...”

“Mo-ooom!”

“... yes, a little girl, because that is how you behaved. You worked so hard to get rid of that stuff and I don’t want to see you slip back into it.” Those words were heartfelt, and even stubborn April couldn’t but feel a strong pang of guilt in her stomach.

“Mom, I’m sorry, okay?”

Cheryl took her hand and led her out of the bathroom, slapping her behind through the nightie as they walked and April yelped. “Not nearly as sorry as you’re gonna be. Where did you have it done?”

April looked away and blushed. Cheryl smacked the back of her bare right thigh as hard as she could, and the girl literally jumped a foot in the air. “Yeooowww! At the White Rabbit Hole!”

“Good. Then we’ll go there. Get dressed right now, and don’t think even for a minute that I’m not going to take the hairbrush to your bare bottom as soon as I get you home.” Cheryl’s voice was threatening, but April didn’t need any reassurance that that was indeed what was going to happen.

“Yes ma’am,” April said in a small voice, some of the cockiness scolded out of her for now.

The ride to the White Rabbit Hole was silent. Cheryl kept her eyes on the road, and April mostly studied her hands folded in her lap. She felt angry at her ‘mother’ for treating her like a child, but mostly angry at herself for doing something she *knew* was wrong and counterproductive. She only now started to realise how serious this was, and wanted to kick herself for it.

Not that Cheryl wouldn’t do enough of it already.

Ironically, the most embarrassing thing was having to walk into one of the only places in town where April was still considered ‘cool’ – with her new mother tagging her.

They mostly made tattoos at the White Rabbit Hole, but wouldn’t refuse a piercing to an old customer like April, especially if she had money to spend on it. At first the store owner, a tall black-bearded guy, didn’t want to remove the piercing and said April was old enough to decide for herself...

... but when Cheryl threatened his giant figure from the top of her 5 feet 5 frame and stern little face, even calling him “young man” on a couple occasions, the guy realised it wasn’t a good thing to argue with a ticked-off mother. And he didn’t know she wasn’t really April’s mother, and since Cheryl kept referring to April as ‘my daughter’ there was little he could do but abide, and remove the incriminated piercing. A 50% refund was set, and twenty minutes later mother and daughter were off to the car.

“Just you wait till I get you home, now,” Cheryl said as she rode the car, not as angrily as she had earlier, but definitely just as loud!

“Mom...” April whimpered, looking around. There weren’t many people, but those that were there were surely watching.

“What? You need to have your mouth washed out thoroughly. Plus, you’re not too old to go across my knee and have your bottom spanked bright red by my hairbrush, young lady, and that’s exactly what’s going to happen. You’re lucky I don’t take your panties down right here and now for everyone to see as I blister your little bum!..........”

~*~

“What??” Millie yelped. “She said that??”

April laughed. “No way. She didn’t. I was teasing you.”

“You witch!” Millie slapped her with a pillow. “You got me there for a minute.”

“Yeah well that was the tone. She did say the “wait till I get you home” part though. That was embarrassing enough, let me tell you.”

“I bet... Come on, though, what happened then?”

April sighed and resumed the sad recount...

~*~

As soon as they were home, Cheryl dropped her purse on the kitchen table and silently pointed to the staircase. “Wait for me in the bathroom.” April needn’t any more to know that her mouth was going to be washed out and she would be spanked in her bedroom after that. Sometimes Frank and Cheryl punished the girls down in the living area, but it was usually in the privacy of their own rooms.

Up she went, feeling her tummy twist in unpleasant knots. ‘Mother’ would spank her, and spank her hard, very hard, like she always did. Even harder than her sister, actually, because April tolerated pain so much better, and didn’t bruise easily despite the fair skin tone. And the mouth soaping wouldn’t be a happy trip either.

So April took off her sweater and shoes and paced the bathroom, the tiles cold on her bare feet. Cheryl took her time, and when she showed up, she was sporting that no-nonsense face her girls had learnt to be afraid of.

“I... it doesn’t feel too well in there, you know?” April said, pointing at her mouth.

“I’m sure it doesn’t. Open up.” April did. “The bruise is still there. It’ll heal eventually. We’ll put something on it later. Let’s clean it properly before, though, shall we?” Cheryl finished with sarcasm.

She took one of those wear-on hand-shaped wash clothes from the cabinet beneath the sink. She ran the water and grabbed a bar of soap, that she rubbed on the sponge cloth extensively. April watched with big eyes the slow, meticulous lathering procedure, and wondered if those stories they tell about mouth washing being awful were true or not. She was going to find out soon.

“Hands behind your back,” Cheryl ordered, and April complied. “I actually have three reasons to do this,” the woman said as she raised the cloth to the girl’s mouth.

April opened up obediently, again, too worried of further repercussions to defy her mother. She waited and tried not to throw up when Cheryl stuffed four sponge-covered fingers right inside, and started working her way around the tongue, the roof, and the sides of her mouth.

“Mmm... ngghh!...” April almost gagged on the cloth. She somehow managed to breathe through her nostrils and keep her hands clasped behind her back, though it was hard.

The taste in her mouth was simply awful.

“One,” Cheryl said, “because you obviously transgressed with your mouth and this... piercing thing. Two, because you lied about it: you know that keeping something forbidden hidden from us is the same as lying. And three, I’m sick and tired of your language. You always manage to slip some four-letter word into your talk, and though some are fine those, I’m not. Change your attitude, April, and quickly, because whereas I’ve been tolerant so far, I sure won’t in the future. Do you understand, young lady?”

April nodded her head as eagerly as she could. By now, the girl’s distress was evident. Nothing could take her mind away from the bald-faced scolding (Cheryl was ever so wordy when reprimanding the girls...) and the God-awful taste in her mouth. She would never understand why something that smelt so good on your hands could taste so foul in your mouth. But it did, and Cheryl’s rough scrubbing didn’t help much either. The bruise on the girl’s tongue pulsated painfully.

At long last, though, the resolute mother withdrew and dropped the wash cloth to the sink. April tried to catch her breath and stood there, foam and saliva and water and soap dripping from the corners of her open mouth. She looked at Cheryl imploringly, as though to ask permission to rinse, but the woman just stared at her cross-armed.

“Has this taught you a lesson, April Roxanne?” she asked.

Again the girl nodded urgently, and looked at the sink.

A few more seconds’ long, excruciating wait... April’s T-shirt was by now wet too... then Cheryl nodded her head, and April flung herself down on the sink, spitting and sputtering and making deep gagging sounds. She ran the water and rinsed abundantly, though it seemed that the taste was plastered to her mouth and would never really go away.

Maggie suddenly appearing in the bathroom doorway didn’t help, either.

“I... err... what’s up?” she asked, moving her blue puppy-dog eyes from her mother to her sister.

“Your sister is getting her mouth washed out, and she’s about to be spanked with the hairbrush for piercing her tongue again,” Cheryl explained nonchalantly.

April blushed and kept rinsing. Maggie’s hands flew to her mouth.

“Can you please leave us alone for a few minutes, dear?”

Cheryl could always speak softly and soothingly to the daughter she wasn’t upset with, and harshly to the one she *was* upset with.

“Yes Mummy... bye April... love you,” said Maggie in a meek voice.

April paused her rinsing just long enough to give the tiny eighteen-year-old blonde a weak smile – but her face was flushed and hot, knowing what would come next.

A few minutes later, in her room, April pulled down her own jeans and sat on her bed, waiting for her mother to come in. The wait was short but still nerve-wracking, and when Cheryl did come into the room, she was carrying her hairbrush. Her large, big hairbrush that had set Maggie’s and April’s bare bottoms on fire many times before. More Maggie’s than April’s, actually, but the black-haired skinny girl knew what to expect.

And knew to fear it.

“Stand up,” Cheryl ordered.

April did and waited for further instructions. The woman sat on the bed and proceeded to lower the girl’s satin black underwear, all the way down to her ankles. April *hated* to be bared, contrarily to Maggie for whom it was a part of the age regression she seemed to crave for. Not that either had a choice, anyway: Cheryl believed in preparing the girls for the spanking herself, to increase their level of embarrassment and helplessness.

“I needn’t tell you again what you have done, April Roxanne,” Cheryl said, wagging the hairbrush threateningly in her face, “but I’ll do so anyway. You have pledged to get rid of everything that might cause you a relapse into the habits of your previous life, isn’t that right?”

Now starting to feel repentant and ashamed, April nodded. “Yes ma’am...”

“And there you go, getting your tongue pierced, when you’ve spent a week in a hospital getting rid of all your pierces and most of your tattoos.” She pointed at an eagle-shaped one right on top of the girl’s Venus’ mound – that one couldn’t have been removed. “Why would you do such a stupid thing?”

April shrugged.

“No, April! I want you to tell me.”

The girl exhaled loudly, but then did as asked. “Because... hell, Cheryl, I don’t know. It just happened. I wanted to feel steel and some pain and... the overall feeling... is that so bad?”

Cheryl nodded, seemingly unmoved, but actually feeling so sorry for the girl to just want to smother her in a tight hug.

“Yes, it is. I understand that it’s hard, but it’s been almost six months now, and you’ve been doing so good so far that this really looks like a kid’s tantrum.”

“But... I...”

“And if it’s pain you wanted, I’m going to give you some of it, believe me.”

“I don’t mean THAT!... OH you know what I meeeeean!”

The last word was distorted in a yelp as Cheryl dragged the girl bodily across her lap, pinned her down and smacked the hairbrush hard across both of her cheeks.

“Owwww!”

Even April felt the searing burn. She’d always been given a hand warm-up before the spoon or the hairbrush, and had no idea it could hurt so much more on her cold, white skin!

Undeterred, and, if anything, encouraged by such loud response, Cheryl proceeded to spank April’s backside with unrelenting smacks, going from the top of the girl’s buttocks to the start of her creamy white thighs. April’s being not meaty at all didn’t help, and every time the heavy implement crashed it felt like it was spanking her very bones.

Smack!! ... Crack!! ... Whack!! ...

Soon the twenty-year-old was squirming with all her might, because as resistant as she was, this was still a very hard hairbrush spanking and there isn’t one person, boy or girl, man or woman, who doesn’t suffer tremendously under one of those.

“Oh you’re not getting anywhere, missy!” Cheryl reprimanded sternly as she spanked on. April’s bottom was a glowing shade of red already.

“But it hurrrrrts! Oh please... enough, okay, I get it!”

“It hurts as it must,” Cheryl reiterated, “and I’m not through with you, not by a long shot.”

As though her words weren’t enough of a threat, she put even more vigour behind her smacks, now painting red hot fire in her daughter’s tender sit-spots. April nearly lost it at that:

“Noo-ooooww! Not theeeere!” she wailed loudly, and did the big mistake of trying to cover herself.

She managed to snatch her own hands away before the hairbrush hit them or before Cheryl restrained them, but the woman was uncompromising and did consider that an infraction. April’s punishment for that was a volley of extra hard spanks to the backs of her full thighs, halfway between her bottom and her knees. The unblemished skin there soon glowed of a red light, too, and April kicked hard and squealed in response to her most tender and least protected spots being hit so powerfully.

“Mmmmnnoooo! Moo-oom!... ahhhieeee!”

Cheryl noticed how she was ‘Cheryl’ when April was angry, and how she immediately reverted to ‘Mom’ or even ‘Mommy’ when panic started to make its way into the well-spanked girl. This was just another sign of a lesson well received, so the woman kept on the hard smacking and didn’t let up.

A couple of dozen swats later April was breathing very hard, her chest heaving and her face hot and sweaty. Not as hot as her painfully throbbing bottom, of course, which was now the centre of her whole world. She was starting to feel like she couldn’t hold it anymore, and that she couldn’t *take* any more spanking. It was just impossible! Her resistance was over, this had to stop and had to stop now!...

... but since it didn’t stop, and Cheryl continued to assault her backside with the evil hairbrush at the atrocious rate of one smack per second, and April’s tall but lithe body was restrained from any major struggle... all the girl could do was cry. She was slowly but inevitably pushed over the edge of her own resistance, and broke down like everyone getting a sound spanking eventually does.

Cheryl heard the gasps and yelps suddenly turn to loud wailing. Those who try to resist tears, when they lose their battle they just sob brokenheartedly, with little or nothing between sniffles and full-out crying. So did April, for whom the floodgates suddenly opened, and she poured a torrent of hot tears as her bottom suffered the cruel onslaught of hard wood still rigidly applied all over.

Less than a minute later, the girl was sobbing and screaming, kicking very feebly now, and rarely even wriggling at all anymore. Cheryl was starting to think she might have had enough. It had been maybe a hundred smacks, and probably more: anyone else would be severely blistered by now, but April’s resistant skin ‘only’ sported a deep, crimson colour, with a few welts forming from where the hairbrush edges weren’t perfectly smooth.

So, after applying a final solid, frenzied dozen to the girl’s sit-spots that set her howling, Cheryl stopped and put down the hairbrush.

April lay across her mother’s lap bawling like a baby, her hands still twisting the bedspread, her mouth gaping open in heartfelt, deep crying. Cheryl let her cry out for a while, rubbing her back to help her breathe regularly again, and only when April showed the first signs of recovery she helped her stand and enveloped her in a tight hug.

“April, honey,” she spoke soothingly, “you never, ever do that again. You’re way past that part of your life and you don’t need any of that nonsense anymore. You do know that, yourself, but it’s hard to realise it sometimes, right?”

The girl nodded eagerly, for she couldn’t have said it better, herself. “I’m... sooo sorry Mom!”

“There, there, I know. It was a mistake, that you won’t do again. You know how I don’t believe in spanking more than twice for the same issue, right?”

April nodded. “Y-yes... it’d be stupid...”

“Exactly. A relapse might happen, but two? No, not from a girl your age, April.” Cheryl spoke softly but firmly as she looked at her ‘daughter’ in the eye. “You’re allowed one relapse, April, but don’t push it. We don’t want to have to give up on this one, right?”

The girl swallowed hard and shook her head vigorously. The last thing she wanted was for Frank and Cheryl to think she wasn’t worthy of recovery. “I promise it won’t happen again,” she said, as solemnly as her flaming bottom and scratchy-throat voice would let her.

“Good, I do believe you.”

Cheryl kissed April sweetly on her cheeks. April welcomed the loving attention, and returned it. She stood on shaky knees and collected her jeans and panties from the floor, not bothering to put them on.

“C-can I please be excused, Mom?” she asked politely as per training.

“Yes, dear. Do you have lessons today?”

April nodded. “At noon.”

“Good,” said Cheryl, looking at her wrist watch. “You have a couple of hours to settle down and get ready. Maybe take a nap. Okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

~*~

Millie finally sighed, letting out that breath she’d been holding in for several minutes. Only a few hours in the house and she’d witnessed two spankings and heard of two more. She wondered if all of her days at the Bowmans’ would be so filled with spanking, and she hoped not!

“Wow... that was... wow...” she repeated.

“Yeah. Well, I deserved it.”

“Are you healed now?”

“Yeah. Barely.”

“Ooh... wow... and, and...” she licked her lips, “...does the soap stink?”

“Yuck!” April made a face. “Smells good but tastes awful. Hope you never taste it.”

“Well *I* don’t use foul language to begin with!” Millie teased, sticking out her tongue.

April rolled her eyes and slapped her face playfully. “Witch.”

They laughed and hugged. “I’m sorry, April. Don’t get in trouble anytime soon, okay?”

“Don’t plan to, sis.”

“Good.”

That night, as she rolled under the covers, Millie found herself slipping a hand inside her pj bottoms, but instead of rubbing the spot that would always make her feel so good, her hand unconsciously went to her bottom. It tingled in nervous, scary anticipation, and had goosebumps all over.

Millie sighed and rolled over, her hand still resting on the bare chubs she hoped she could keep free of spanks for as long as possible. That wasn’t the purpose of her moving in with the Bowmans after all. She wanted new parents, and Frank and Cheryl were. Okay, so they spanked. No big deal. It was out-of-fashion but many parents did. So what. She just had to behave and avoid being spanked.

Just like a real daughter.

Millie wanted to think of spankings some more, but she felt so warm and safe, not to mention tired from the journey, that she eventually fell asleep. Her life with her new family would start in just a few hours, and not one minute had to be wasted.

– End of Part Three –

This story does not necessarily represent the author’s point of view about anything. It is simply a work of fiction . The characters herein portrayed are invented and do not resemble reality to the best of the author’s knowledge. This account is entirely fictitious . Any similarities to other persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

This story is written for the sane amusement of adult readers. It does not intend harm and does not promote violence of any kind, including spanking. No offence is meant to any group, ethnicity or individuals.

The author does in no way endorse the non-consensual disciplinary spanking of actual children and / or teenagers.

Copyright © 2004-2005 Haley Brimley . Contact for information and / or feedback.