Saddle Sore: Chapter III
Jayme Rides Again
Read Chapter I here. Content warning: depicts corporal punishment.
As she felt three little love taps across her bottom, Jayme thrilled as the lingering warmth from last night’s self-inflicted spanking rose softly against her pajama pants.
“Jaaaymeee…” cooed Mamma’s voice.
“Hmmm? …Noooo, Mamma!” whined Jayme, pressing her face against the pillow, still dreaming of being spanked.
Mamma’s gentle pats became playful swats, not enough to hurt, but enough to wake Jayme up fully. “Jayme, it’s time to get up.”
“Five mo’ mi’mmits, Mamma…” fussed Jayme.
In answer, Mamma landed a firm clap, smack across the center of her daughter’s upturned rump. Immediately, Jayme hopped up, and off of bed in a scramble of limbs and bed sheets. “Yip! I’m up! I’m up!”
Glancing at her alarm clock, Jayme realized she’d forgotten to set it last night. It was six o’clock in the morning! She was late for morning chores!
But that meant…she was going to get spanked!
Kneeling on the carpet, Jayme trembled as she looked up at the petite woman who had given her life, and had given her frequent spankings ever since. It reminded Jayme of the days before her last few growth spurts, before she had outgrown her mother, without outgrowing spankings. “Sorry, Mamma! I’ll do my chores right now! Please don’t spank me!”
Mamma giggled. “It’s okay, Jayme! Dad told me to let you and Joanne sleep in a bit this morning, since the raccoon woke you up, but a whole hour is pushing it. Joanne’s already up and at it!”
Jayme rubbed the throbbing welts from last night, which were furiously protesting her morning wake-up call. Glancing down at her legs, Jayme tensed as she noticed the grass stains from last night. The only thing hiding them from Mamma’s sight was the bed sheet she’d pulled loose by tumbling out of the wrong side of bed.
Mamma raised an eyebrow. “My, you’re rubbing your bottom pretty hard. Still a bit tender from your spanking yesterday?”
Jayme felt a lump in her throat. “Wuh? What spanking? I was in bed last night!”
Mamma crossed her arms. “The spanking I gave you yesterday before breakfast, of course. I was worried I spanked you too hard, but if you’ve forgotten it already, perhaps I went too easy on you?”
“Oh! Of course, that spanking! Um…it still hurts a little bit, at the moment! But that spanking hurt plenty, I promise! I’ve learned my lesson about minced oaths!”
Mamma shook her head, but finally smiled and let out a soft sigh. “Well, I’m sorry for your pains. Mind you, I’m not sorry that I spanked your naughty little bottom, but I do feel sorry for your poor little bottom. Let’s pray that you can get through the rest of the day without needing another reminder. I’m rooting for you!”
Jayme tensed as Mamma started to make her bed, pulling away the bedsheets that were hiding her pajama pant legs from inspection. One casual question about the grass-stains could easily expose Jayme’s illicit escapade last night! Jayme pinched the bedsheet between her thighs. “Lemme’ make my bed!”
Humming the tune of an old hymn, Mamma tugged the sheets free and turned her attention to straightening the bed. “Oh, I love helping you make your bed! You know what they say. Two people can do it four times as fast!”
Jayme nudged her thigh under her bed, hoping to hide the giant, obvious mud and grass stains in shadow. “Um…Poppa says I should be making my own bed now! To help me…build character?”
“Liar, liar! Pants on fire!” thought Jayme, cupping each of her fiery butt cheeks.
Mamma paused and looked down at her daughter, quizzically. Jayme felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back, right into her slightly exposed butt crack. Mamma sighed. “Hmm, that does sound like him. Very well, make your bed, then straight to morning chores. Don’t dawdle, but don’t be sloppy! There’s a birthday girl visiting the stables after breakfast for her first lesson, and I’ve recommended you highly to her mother!”
“Yes’m!” Jayme mumbled as she flew to obey.
Mamma cooed from behind the bedroom door. “...Oh, and Jayme?”
Jayme froze like a doe. She felt a sudden desire to yank down her panties and confess her crime, exposing all in one fell swoop.
Mamma beamed. “Thanks for making sure Joanne was safe last night! I’m proud of you!”
“...Thank you, Mamma.”
“...Wut?” thought Jayme, as Mamma closed the door behind her. Taking a calming breath, Jayme composed her thoughts as she made her bed. “That was weird…Okay, I’ve got to hide the grass stains on the pajamas. Can’t leave them here, Mamma could come collect them to fill out a load. Putting them in the hamper won’t work either, if she checks for stains. So, I’ll start a load with my pajamas in it, then start them drying after breakfast.”
Jayme flipped a quarter to see if it would bounce off the mattress. It didn’t quite work, but she decided to risk being spanked for improperly making her bed rather than risk being spanked for being late to morning chores and breakfast. Jayme winced as she pulled up her Levi jeans, then remembered her missing belt.
Going back to the woodshed in broad daylight to collect it was risky. No Schmidt child in their right mind liked to hang out there if they could help it, and it was hard to go anywhere on the ranch without being observed by at least one of her six curious siblings. Dad liked to work there on little wood-working and leather-working projects as a hobby, but the belt and hairbrush were hopefully tucked out of sight behind the saddle rack, even if he did use the woodshed today. Jayme grabbed her only other belt: a cheap, hot pink one from middle school that made her feel silly.
Jayme hid her muddy pajamas in a pile of other clothes, then ducked and dodged her way to the laundry room unobserved. “Crud, what’s the trick to get grass stains out? Is it bleach?” At the last moment, she remembered Mamma using the spray bottle marked “Vinegar” for grass stains, applied some to her PJ’s, and stuffed them into the washer.
Jayme started when she heard Mamma’s sing-song voice inches behind her, and lost her grip on the vinegar bottle. “Aw! Thank you for doing that, Jayme. Without even being asked! …Woops!” Mamma caught the bottle deftly and closed the washing machine door shut.
“Butterfingers!”
Outside, Jayme glanced furtively at the woodshed as she made her way to the stables, and found Joseph and Jessica delivering fresh hay to the last box stall. “Sorry I’m late!”
Joseph shrugged, then lifted up his Stetson cowboy hat with a single finger. “No big. We heard about your adventure last night.”
Jessica wrinkled her nose. “Pops only told us the short version. Tell us everything, and we won’t hold it against you!” Jessica shared Jayme’s dirty blond hair, but was a few inches shorter than her younger sister. However, thanks to Jessica’s natural curves, friends of the family always guessed correctly that Jessica was the older of the two.
Jayme looked left and right. “Where’s Joanne?”
Joseph pointed a thumb toward the chicken coop. “You should have seen her. Finished cleaning her stalls in record time and bolted off to feed the chickens, like…uh, like…”
Jessica revealed her slightly buck teeth in a sly grin. “Like a chicken with her head cut off?”
Jayme joined the banter as she helped return the empty hay buckets. “I don’t think that metaphor works, Jess.”
Joseph scratched his head. “Is it a metaphor? I thought it was called a simile.”
Jessica touched her lip, pensively. “I thought it was called a pun.”
The rest of the morning routine passed without incident, except that Joanne was not present to contribute her more barbed, sardonic wit to the Schmidt Siblings’ Comedy Quartette.
In addition to the minor chores that all the Schmidt siblings shared, the four eldest (Joseph, Jessica, Jayme herself, and Joanne) were responsible for tending the chickens and cleaning the horse stables before breakfast. Jayme had taken a particular interest in caring for horses, and had the best summer job in the entire world: teaching little girls horse riding. There were two universal sources of income for a horse ranch: little girls wanting to pet a pony or horse for their birthday, and older girls wanting to train in one of the two schools of riding: Western or English. The oldest joke in the Schmidt family household was that Pops was a Western-style rider, Mamma an English-style rider, but they somehow managed to fall in love anyway.
Jayme had picked up both riding styles over the years, though she specialized in teaching Western classes for little girls, which freed up Pops for his more serious work: training horses and riders for the Silver Screen and The Golden Age of Television.
The need for expert horse riders had brought Hollywood to the midwest. Dad always joked that he could never remember if it was Netflix or HBO who’d needed expertly-trained horses for their cowboy picture, but he sure remembered the first check for his consulting fee.
As she made her way back home for breakfast with her older siblings, Jayme felt the woodshed looming in her peripheral vision. “Strange? The door is still ajar? Pops must have forgotten to close it last night. If I just say I’m going to go shut the door real quick, that’s not too suspicious, right? …Oh, duh, I’d have to go in to grab the evidence, then walk out with a random belt and hairbrush. That won’t work!”
Then Jayme felt someone’s eyes on the back of her head. Jessica had noticed what she was looking at. “Thinking about spankin’s in the woodshed, Jayme? It’s been, what, two years since your last trip? Pretty good run! I haven’t been hauled out to the woodshed for three years. Maybe we can beat Joe’s six year record, if he could just screw up for once!”
Joe imitated Bugs Bunny as he carefully took off his boots, so as not to track mud indoors. “Har dee har, har! I don’t intend to let that record ever be broken!”
Jayme felt goosebumps. It was bad enough to worry about her own spankings, but she also got to bear witness to most of her siblings’ spankings.
Joseph didn’t even get “warning shot” spankings anymore, not because he was “too old for a spanking,” but because he simply hadn’t done anything to merit one since he was 13. Jessica still earned the occasional warning shots, and more rarely was taken to her room for a “serious talkin’ to” spanking. A serious talk was your last chance to amend your bad behavior before it merited an official “Trip to the Woodshed.”
In contrast, Jayme usually earned one to three “warning shots” a week, and needed to have a “serious talk” with Mamma or Poppa once a month or so. Joanne’s goth/emo/punk attitude earned her just as many “warning shots” as Jayme did, but Joanne carefully avoided breaking any rule that merited more serious discipline.
Joseph chuckled as he watched Jayme hopping to pull off her cowgirl boots. “Jayme, you okay? You’ve been acting jumpy all morning!”
Jayme jumped straight up to attention, nearly at eye-level with Joseph. “M’not jumpy!”
Brushing off her siblings’ color commentary, Jayme made a bee-line to the laundry room, just as the bell went, “Ding!” to signal the first load was finished! The grass stain on her PJ’s had faded…slightly. Trying to be subtle, Jayme started the rest of the load drying, pulled out the sopping wet pajamas to apply more vinegar, and slipped them into the second load for the washer, humming the Mission Impossible theme song to calm her nerves.
Jayme felt a puff of air as she heard Mamma’s voice breathing down her neck. “My goodness! Someone is determined to earn brownie points today! I may never have to spank you again!”
“Yikes!” Jayme nearly jumped out of her socks as Mamma snuck up behind her…again. In fact, one of Jayme’s socks literally flew off as it caught on the toe of her other foot.
Mamma giggled. “Goodness! I must walk too softly. That’s the second time I’ve startled you this morning!”
Scooping up the lone sock, Jame threw it in the washing machine and slammed the door shut behind her back. “Well, this load looks full! I’ll just–”
Mamma’s hand gently shooed Jayme away from the machine before she could press the button. “Jayme, your other sock, silly! Oh, let me. Really, it’s sweet that you want to help, but I like to check everything for stains!”
Jayme felt her heart stop as she pulled off her second sock. As Mamma opened the door of the washing machine, the leg of her pajama pants flopped out, with the grass-stain front and center. “But, I want to help!”
Mamma took the second sock, spun Jayme around, and playfully whipped the sock across the seat of Jayme’s pants. “No more ‘buts’! Everytime I hear the word ‘but,’ I think about how I’d much rather hear the musical sound of a butt being spanked! Now, off with you!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jayme caught sight of Mamma lifting the pant leg of her pajamas up by a single finger before flicking it back into the machine and tossing the sock after it with a flourish. “Oh, breakfast will get cold by the time I’m done. I’m sure you did a good job, Jayme. You’re still Mamma’s Little Helper!”
Jayme finally exhaled as she heard the washing machine hum behind them. “That takes care of the pajamas! Just got to wait for a quiet time at the end of the day and slip out to the woodshed. I’m gonna’ make it!” she thought as she settled down at her seat at the table.
But the blisters on her lower sit-spots, left either by the wooden spatula, or her own self-spanking with the hairbrush or belt, caught her off guard as she rested her weight on the hard, straight-backed wooden chair. “G’huh!”
Jayme pulled up her knees, and sent her chair rocking as she gripped the edges. Everyone at the breakfast table stared at her. Jayme trembled as she felt Mamma’s eyes peering deep into her soul. “Oh, man! Is ‘G’huh!’ a minced oath? Am I gonna’ get spanked again? She’ll see the fresh marks when she pulls down my undies!”
Pops broke the silence. “You still can’t sit down comfortably, Jayme? Well, kids, remind me never to take the Lord’s name in vain while your Mamma has a spatula within reach! I don’t think my booty could take it!”
Jack and Jill snorted at the mention of the word ‘booty’ (words like ‘ass’ and even ‘butt’ were forbidden, but ‘booties’ and ‘bums’ still tempted them to fits of laughter). Joseph and Jessica laughed at the absurd mental image of Mamma spanking Poppa. (Everyone at the table knew that it was a Christian wife’s duty to obey her husband! That’s what the Bible said, after all!) The joke went over 6-year-old Juniper’s head, but she started laughing because everyone else was laughing. Finally, even Mamma cracked a smile.
Jayme melted into her chair, no longer caring about her smarting sit-spots. She just loved her family so much! The thought of how much they all loved her–while she hid her deep, dark disgusting, dirty little secret from all of them–made her feel both horrible and wonderful.
Poppa cleared his throat. “Well, Joanne is late for breakfast, but I won’t keep the rest of you waiting. I’ll say grace.”
Jayme did a double-take as she realized Joanne was missing from the seat next to her.
THWAM!
With a dense slam, the front door burst open and Joanne charged through it, her black hair flying behind her. She skidded to a halt to toss her moccasins to the shoe pile, but before she could dive bomb into her chair, Poppa practically froze her in mid-air with a stern look. “Joanne, do not slam doors, do not toss shoes, and do not pounce onto your chair like a tiger after its prey!”
Joanne stood at attention, a few strands of her hair flying akimbo as her long bangs flopped back down to hide half of her face. Today she was wearing a baggy black shirt with a grungy, full-sized image of the Crucifixion based on an old engraving by Gustave Dore. (It was very gothic, but also Christian and family-friendly!) She wore blackcurrant shorts with a deep-purple belt under the shirt, but the extra-large shirt was so loose-fitting it created the illusion she was pantless. “Sorry, Poppa, I was worried I was late to say grace.”
Pops glanced at the grandfather clock. “It’s 8:01. You are a minute late, Joanne. Next time you think you’re going to be late, don’t charge in like a Viking berserker. If you do that again, you will get a second spanking, in addition to the punishment you get for being late for breakfast. Is that understood?”
Joanne nodded. “Yes, sir! …Does that mean I’m getting a spanking for tardiness?”
Poppa let the moment hang. Joanne was late, and late was unacceptable. She had received a “warning shot” spanking only last week for dawdling too long before breakfast. Joanne stood meekly, awaiting the verdict. Joanne knew she deserved to be spanked, and she was prepared to accept it without argument.
Satisfied, Pops nodded, “Well, I haven’t started saying grace…so I’ll show you grace. Have a seat, Sunshine.”
Joanne brightened up. “Yes sir!” She planted a quick kiss on Poppa’s cheek as she power walked to her empty seat next to Jayme.
Jayme bit her lip. “Lucky duck! I’d probably get at least a ‘warning shot’ for that stunt. Oh, who am I kidding? I’d have sassed my way into two or three extra spankings, including a serious talkin’ to in my bedroom!”
They all bowed their heads as Pops blessed the meal. “Blessed are you, O Lord God, King of the Universe, for you give us food to sustain our lives and make our hearts glad…”
Jayme started to close her eyes, but felt Joanne nudging her leg under the table. Jayme peeked a wary eye open and saw Joanne raise both her eyebrows, knowingly. Jayme guessed Joanne was thinking, “See? That’s how it’s done!”
With a scowl, Jayme willed for Joanne to read her own mind. “Knock it off, Joanne. You’re already on thin ice! Are you trying to get me spanked? Is that your little game?”
Poppa finished the prayer, “...Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
Everyone said amen, and the sounds of plates and silverware filled the room, precluding further conversation. The whole family worked a lot. The whole family needed to eat a lot.
For a blessed moment, Jayme forgot all about yesterday’s spanking.
…
Eager to get started teaching horse riding, Jayme wolfed down the rest of her flapjacks. Mamma gave Jayme “The Mom Look.” “Chew before you swallow, Jayme. If I have to save you from choking, you’re going over my knee as soon as I’m finished giving you the Heimlich maneuver!”
Jayme sipped on her orange juice to help wash down the last of her breakfast. “Yes, Mamma. So, how old is my birthday girl?”
Mamma smiled mysteriously. “She’s 10. Conelly Mording. You remember Conrad Mording? It’s his little sister!”
Joanne smiled wickedly. “Conrad? You mean Jayme’s babysitter?”
Jayme nearly choked on her orange juice, but fought down her gag reflex through sheer will power. “He was not my babysitter. We were co-babysitters for you!”
When Jayme was 11, she’d been left in charge of a 9-year-old Joanne for an evening, which resulted in disaster. After Joanne broke some minor house rule, Jayme took it upon herself to spank Joanne, only for an all-out brawl to erupt, which ended with Jayme hiding in the bathroom, while Joanne sat outside wielding an aluminum baseball bat. After that fiasco, Jayme was not permitted to spank any of her younger siblings without explicit approval from Mamma or Poppa, and 12-year-old Conrad was hired as a “co-babysitter.”
Jayme and Conrad had been playmates in Sunday School, but they hadn’t seen each other much since Conrad started high school a year before Jayme.
Joanne swirled the dregs of her orange juice at the bottom of her glass. “I seem to remember Poppa telling him he could spank you if you caused him any trouble.”
Poppa chuckled as he bit into his breakfast sausage. “Now that you mention it, I did!”
Jayme felt her cheeks burning. “That was a joke. You were laughing when you said it, he laughed too!”
Poppa pretended to think hard about it. “Hmm, maybe it was a joke. But I don’t think you ever gave him any trouble, so it must have worked!”
Joanne winked at Jayme. “Better take good care of his sister today. If you screw up, Conrad might take Poppa up on his offer!”
Jayme’s fist twitched, but she controlled her instinct to deck Joanne. “Daddy! Tell her to quit teasing me!”
Joanne narrowed her eyes. “It’s just a little joke! Don’t be such a rabbit-ears!”
Pops set down his silverware and silenced both of his daughters with a look. “That’s enough, both of you.”
“Yessir!” squeaked both Jayme and Joanne.
Pops let the moment hang, waiting to see if either of them would defy him. Satisfied, he nodded. “Jayme, you can always choose to ignore Joanne’s ribbing. The more you react, the more fun you make it for her to tease you. Learn to take a joke in stride. As for you, Joanne, I want you on your best behavior while the Mordings are here. No embarrassing Jayme in front of her old friend. ‘Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you.’ Capiche?”
“Capiche!” answered both girls at once. After helping Mamma clear the table and wash the dishes, the Schmidt siblings were excused from the table to enjoy their second day of summer vacation.
On pins and needles, Jayme made her way to the stables to prepare for her first class of the summer. As she caught sight of the woodshed, she formed her plan of action for the day. “Finish the horse lessons, then I’ll bring a saddle bag over to the woodshed. If anyone asks, I can say I need some spare reigns from the shed. Then I can throw the hairbrush and belt in the saddle bag, and bring it home. And no one’s the wiser!”
There was a risk that Pops would use the woodshed for hobby work today, but as long as he didn’t look too closely behind the saddle rack, the damning evidence might escape his notice. Jayme took a calming breath. “It’ll all be okay. Just concentrate on teaching your class!”
Jayme heard the sound of stomping behind her, and turned to find Joanne, stumbling out of the front door, pulling on her cowgirl boots over her charcoal gray overalls. “I’m helping out at the stables today!” Joanne blurted out, as she ran to catch up.
Jayme narrowed her eyes. “Pops said you’re free for the day. What are you up to, Joanne? If you heckle me while I’m teaching a class, so help me–”
Joanne held up a hand as if saying the Pledge of Allegiance. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll take me to the woodshed yourself to warm me up, before I get a licking from Poppa’s belt! Look, I just want to help out! Honest! ‘Do unto others,’ and stuff!”
Jayme stiffened at the mention of the woodshed, before shaking her head. “Suit yourself. Help me get the corral ready. The girls will need the basic safety course, so I’ll need a spare saddle for them to practice on.”
Joanne spun on her heels and strolled toward the woodshed. “There’s a saddle rack in the woodshed. I’ll fetch it for you!”
“Nooo!!!” Jayme squealed as she grabbed the back straps of Joanne’s overalls. Nearby, the chickens spooked at the noise and started squawking in protest. Jayme quickly let go of Joanne, then added, “Uh, I’ve got one out there already!”
Jayme prayed that she really did have a spare saddle rack at the stables. Joanne looked at her with annoyance, before shrugging. “Okee dokee! You’re the boss, Hoss!”
Jayme sighed with relief when she found the spare saddle and rack in the storage room of the stables, and the two sisters set to work. For the next hour, Jayme was almost in heaven. Joanne bustled around the stables helping her do anything she asked, and Jayme finally forgot about the woodshed.
They both checked Sir Hamilton’s hooves, and prepped his saddle. Jayme had taught the “How to Ride a Horse 101” class so many times, she could do it in her sleep. But no matter how many times Jayme did it, it never got old: seeing the expressions on the girls’ faces as they rode a horse for the first time. Once she’d taught the girls the safety basics, she’d give each girl a turn to practice “longeing,” walking the horse in a circle around the corral.
The birthday party arrived, and Jayme was relieved to see it was only a small group of five girls, between the ages of 9 and 12, led by Mrs. Mording, a stolid, middle-aged woman with sharp chestnut-colored hair. “All right, young ladies, be on your best behavior for Miss Schmidt!”
“Behave yourself?” thought Jayme. Whenever she was in the presence of someone her parents’ age, Jayme had a habit of smartening herself up. It wasn’t merely that she’d learned to “respect your elders” since infancy. Whether it was at church or school, Jayme would always imagine adults taking her across their knee for a spanking then and there, if she spoke out of turn. Mrs. Mording was no exception. Jayme fluttered her eyelashes to dispel the stupid vision of being spanked bare bottom by Mrs. Mording in front of all the girls.
“Yes, Mrs. Mording!” answered Conelly’s birthday guests.
“Yes, Mama!” added Conelly, who shared her mother’s chestnut colored hair.
“Anything I can do to help, Jayme?” asked a young man’s voice. Jayme twisted to find Conrad Mording leaning against the railing of the corral. He shared the same distinct rusty, red-black hair color with his mother and little sister. In the years since they’d played together after Sunday School at the First Reformed Baptist Church of Redfield, Jayme had grown two feet, so that she now towered six inches over Conrad.
Remembering the teasing remark about Conrad being her former-babysitter, Jayme’s eyes darted to Joanne, but Joanne watched silently.
Joanne smiled as if to say, “See? I’m behaving myself!”
Jayme adjusted her cowboy hat to hide her nerves, then turned her attention to her former co-babysitter. “Conrad? I’m good, just make sure your sister pays attention to the safety instructions!”
Conrad gave her a thumbs up. “You got it, Miss Schmidt. You hear that, Conelly? Turn on your listening ears!”
Conelly’s listening ears burned red as the other girls giggled behind her. “Conrad, I’m not a little kid anymore! I’m ten years old now!”
Conrad lifted Conelly’s pink cowboy hat and ruffled her hair, ignoring her cries of protest. “Staaaahp it!”
Conrad set the hat back down over Conelly’s eyes, then clapped his hands to silence the rest of the giggling birthday guests. “Okay, I’ll stop! You’re a big, grown-up girl, now! Hey! The rest of you, settle down!”
Connelly’s four girlfriends stood at attention. “Yessir, Mr. Mording!”
Based on the girls’ reaction, Jayme had a sneaking suspicion Conrad had babysat each of them at one point or another. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been granted spanking privileges.
Mrs. Mording cooed as she pinched her oldest son’s cheek. “Conrad volunteered to help me wrangle the littles, today. Don’t know what I’d do without having a man around to use the ‘Dad Voice’ on them!”
Now it was Conrad’s turn to look flustered. Jayme caught his eye, before he coughed and adjusted his hat. “Okay, let’s all listen to Miss Schmidt!”
As the girls started giggling again, Jayme put her fingers in her mouth and whistled shrilly to get their attention.
Conelly looked up at Jayme wide-eyed. “...Woah, I didn’t know people could whistle that loud!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Mording! …Thank you, Conrad. Raise your hand if you want to ride a horse today!”
All the girls’ hands shot up.
Jayme crossed her arms. “Okay, now raise your hand if you know how to check a saddle.” The girls faltered and lowered their hands. “Well, I can’t let you ride a horse until you know how to saddle it, so let’s get to it!”
Having successfully gotten the girls’ attention, Jayme’s lesson progressed as usual. She walked each girl through the process on the saddle rack, then introduced the girls to the horses. Since Jayme was most used to riding Sir Hamilton, she escorted him to the corral.
Jayme carefully ignored the rack of antique horse whips and riding crops her parents owned. In the Hollywood business, historically-accurate props were a major commodity. She’d fantasized about spanking herself with each and every one of them in the past, but Jayme forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. “Can’t think about spanking myself. Focus! You’ve got a job to do!”
Joanne was suspiciously helpful, bringing Jayme anything she needed, and helping brush down Sir Hamilton to prepare him for the saddle.
Poppa had personally tamed Sir Hamilton, but the stallion still had bronco blood in his veins. Jayme understood his personality and loved his energy for barrel racing, but he could be a bit much for new riders. Jayme’s plan was to use Sir Hamilton for her safety demonstration, then bring out a gentle mare for the girls to saddle and ride for the rest of the day.
She quizzed the girls as she attached the saddle to Sir Hamilton. “And who knows which way I put this on? …Conelly!”
Conelly bounced on the balls of her feet, her hand in the air. “The horn goes by his head, on top of the…uh, the pocket?”
“That’s right! The wither pocket is right here. It’s easier to feel than to see. Who wants to feel it? …Oh, everybody? Okay!”
After Jayme lifted each of the four girls in turn to feel the wither behind Sir Hamilton’s shoulders, she turned to find Conrad had joined the group. Jayme beamed at him. “Want me to give you a lift, Shorty?”
Ignoring her jab at his height, Conrad lifted his hand and immediately found the wither on his own. “It’s so smooth, I can barely see it. Is it different for the mares?”
Jayme beamed. “Horses are all as different as people are, but they all have one. Sir Hamilton here is a bit of a muscle-head so his is easier to feel!”
As if insulted, Sir Hamilton turned to glance at Jayme and snorted.
Conrad patted Sir Hamilton between the shoulder blades. “I think you wounded his pride.”
Jayme shooed Conrad away as she cooed Sir Hamilton. “He’s smart. He knows it’s a compliment. You’re a big muscle-head, yes you are!”
Conrad ushered his sister and her friends back behind the gate.
Jayme tightened and secured the straps, calling on girls to name each part of the saddle as she went, and made a point of double-checking the rings. Like she’d done a thousand times before, Jayme prepared to mount Sir Hamilton, easily securing her left boot in the stirrup as she prepared to kick her right leg up and over his back. “Now, it’s a little scary, but you want to do it in one smooth–” As Jayme kicked up, the welts from the belt whipping she’d given herself last night stretched and flared up, “–motion?”
As she winced, the toe of her right boot kicked Sir Hamilton’s hindquarter. The fact that Jayme had done this safety demonstration thousands of times only helped her appreciate what was happening, as it happened, in slow motion. Sir Hamilton bolted at the kick, and Jayme felt herself rolling backwards towards the ground, landing right on the seat of her pants. She felt something tugging at her left boot, and instinctively shielded her neck and face. She could make out the sound of girlish screams, felt sand scratching against the back of her neck, and knew she was being dragged. A boy’s voice shouted, “Woah, there!”
With a quick twist of her foot, Jayme pulled her boot loose from the stirrup, and came to a halt. Her first thought was of Sir Hamilton. “Joanne! The bridle! Before he hurts himself!”
Jayme picked herself up to find, not Joanne, but Conrad running to calm Sir Hamilton and take the reins. “Woah! Easy there, fella!”
Jayme felt someone grasp her by the shoulders from behind, and saw Joanne had rushed to her side. “Anything feel broken?”
Jayme took a few deep breaths as she felt herself. Her shoulder was sore but nothing felt broken. But her ass was both throbbing and numb at the same time, and she realized it must have taken the brunt of both the fall and being dragged. Looking behind her, she guessed she’d been dragged at least 20 feet before shaking herself loose. Experimentally, Jame stretched her legs and tried to stand up. “Um…Joanne? Could you check…my pants?”
“Your pants? Hey! Quit trying to stand up! If something’s broken you need to–”
Jayme tensed as she saw Conrad wave at her and start leading Sir Hamilton toward them by the reins. “Nothing’s broken, Joanne, just check my pants! Please! Do it quick!”
Joanne opened her mouth to argue, then her eyes went wide with dawning comprehension as she spotted Conrad. “Oh! Your pants! Well, they look a bit…distressed?”
Jayme’s hands flew towards her bottom, before she remembered that the whole point was to avoid attracting Conrad’s attention to it. “Distressed? What does that mean?”
“You know, like, those jeans kids at school get with rips in them?”
“Crud! Is there a hole? Can they see my panties?” Jayme hissed. Mrs. Mording, Conelly, and the rest of the girls called her name as they circled the corral gate.
Joanne’s head bobbed up and down as she tried to inspect Jayme’s behind without making it obvious. “It’s not a hole! It’s more like it’s…weathered? There’s a little threadbare patch about–”
“Jayme? You okay?” called Conrad, as he approached them steadily.
Jayme stood at attention, towering over Conrad. “Good save, Conrad!”
“I jumped in the corral as soon as I saw him dragging you. But you got out of the stirrups on your own. That was amazing!”
Jayme reached for her cowgirl hat, hoping to hold it behind her back to cover the seat of her pants, only to discover her hat had gone flying off her head twenty feet away. Jayme felt Joanne brush up behind her and wondered if Joanne was trying to strategically place herself to hide the “little threadbare patch.”
Too scared to turn around, Jayme coughed and accepted the reins from Conrad. “No! You did great! If a horse spooks and goes running, they can catch their reins on something and hurt themselves…you’re my hero!”
Conrad blinked, then patted Jayme on the shoulder. “Oh? Glad I could help! Guess I was just in the right place at the right time!”
Trying to side-shuffle around Sir Hamilton to keep her rear out of view, Jayme turned to face Mrs. Mording, Conelly, and the rest of the birthday party girls. “All right. Who can tell me what I did wrong there?”
…
After finishing the safety lecture, Jayme excused herself to return Sir Hamilton back to his box, and took an opportunity to inspect the seat of her pants. Sure enough, it looked a bit razzled, but it was intact. After feeling the “little threadbare patch” Jayme argued with herself about whether it was worth running home to change into fresh jeans. “Whatever, I already look like an ass. If they notice it…serves me right for not paying attention.”
After Jayme brought out Peace, their gentlest, mildest mare, the girls got to brush and saddle her. Some of them were nervous about riding after Jayme’s unforgettable safety demonstration, but Conelly volunteered to go first, and they all were able to mount and ride Peace without incident.
Jayme felt like kicking herself for the entire lesson. But Conelly surprised her with a hug, thanking her for “The Best Birthday Ever,” and Mrs. Mording promised to bring Conelly back for regular riding lessons in the future.
Joanne pretended to whisper in Conelly’s ear, but made sure her whisper was loud enough for Jayme to hear, “First lesson: don’t fall off your horse!”
Jayme imagined clothesline tackling Joanne to the ground, but then imagined herself getting a well-deserved spanking for starting a fight. Remembering how Joanne had come to her aid before, Jayme willed herself to ignore Joanne’s barbs. “Second lesson: don’t screw around!”
Conrad turned to tip his hat to her. “Thanks Jayme. Thanks Joanne! Conelly had a great time.”
Jayme felt her mouth moving of its own accord. “Thanks, Conrad, I had a great time too!”
“...I had a great time too? What the heck does that mean?” thought Jayme. Joanne made it worse by side-eyeing her.
Conrad chortled. “Heh. Well, that makes three of us! See you at school, Jayme!”
…
At lunch, Pops fixed Jayme with a look of mock sternness. “So I hear you took a nasty fall today. What happened? You weren’t screwing around were you?”
Jayme hung her head, not because she felt Pops was angry with her, but only because of how stupid she still felt. “No, sir! I just flubbed the mount.”
Joanne interjected. “I saw the whole thing. Jayme wasn’t messing around, it could have happened to anyone!”
Pops nodded. “Thanks for sticking up for your sister, Joanne!”
Accidents happened at a horse ranch, but “No Screwing Around” was an iron-clad rule. When Jayme was 13, she’d playfully slapped her rear end while racing Joanne, only to lose her footing and fall backwards off her horse. That incident had resulted in a “serious talking to” in her bedroom. First, she’d laid across Poppa’s lap to endure a spanking from one of the old, reliable hand paddles across her jeans. Then, Mamma had opted to use a more creative implement: a horse brush, which she strapped to her palm before ordering Jayme to bare her butt and get across her knee. The stiff bristles from the brush had prickled and stung like mad. While there were a few consistent implements, Mamma and Poppa didn’t hesitate to grab a “weapon of opportunity” whenever the need arose.
Jayme was pretty sure she wouldn’t be spanked for making an innocent mistake, but the memory haunted her anyway. “Of course, if I hadn’t spanked myself yesterday, I probably wouldn’t have screwed up the mount, so in a way, it is my fault!” Jayme thought privately.
In her heart of hearts, she prayed for Pops to order her to lay across his lap to get the spanking she deserved, right then and there. Instead, Pops put a supportive hand on her shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you’re alright, Firecracker.”
Jayme savored Mamma’s meatloaf, looking forward to her summer afternoon. Having finished her lessons, Jayme was free for the rest of the day.
Juniper made a fuss about eating her green beans, and after spitting one out, was unceremoniously pulled across Mamma’s lap for six firm swats with the wooden spatula.
Mamma seated Juniper right back in her seat at the table and pointed emphatically. “Now you sit there and clean your plate, and no spitting, or I’m taking you to your room for a ‘serious discussion’ next.”
Juniper wailed and sniffled, but more from sorrow than from the pain. After finishing her green beans, she was congratulated and offered dessert. With that, Juniper was back to her old self, as if the spanking had never happened.
“Good job, Juniper! I knew you could do it!” cheered Jack.
“Now you get ice cream, which is so much nicer than a bare-bottom spanking!” observed Jill.
As Joseph fetched the mail, he announced that their final grade reports had arrived from Redfield Christian School. Jayme noticed that Joanne’s eyes went wide at this news, at least the single eye that wasn’t hidden behind her lanky hair.
Pops accepted the envelopes, each stamped with the school seal. “Perfect! Let’s see what you kids learned this year!”
Jayme spotted the rack of spanking implements on the kitchen wall, still remembering her trip to the woodshed from her freshman year in painful detail. Hopefully, no one would need to learn an additional lesson today.
“Jayme…A-plus in Bible class, as expected. A’s in Honors English, Home Ec, P.E., Spanish. An A-minus in Chemistry and History…and a B-plus in Algebra?”
Jayme kicked herself at the mention of “B-Plus.” She’d hoped to bring that class up to an A-minus after her final exam. “I could have studied harder! I deserve a paddling!” she thought.
With a nod of approval, Pops handed Jayme’s report card to Mamma. “Great job, Jayme. That’s two years in a row of a solid A average.”
Mamma used one of Juniper’s alphabet magnet tiles to display Jayme’s grades on the refrigerator with a big, red letter A.
“Next…Joanne! I see we have a B-plus in Bible, B’s in English, History, and Physical Science…An A-plus in Art class, great job! An A-minus in Geometry…you had a study hall, and…a C-plus in Home Ec?”
Joanne swallowed. Earlier in the school year, she’d been sent home with D’s in Home Economics and a note describing her “unhelpful attitude” in class. That had resulted in a “serious talking to” in her room, and she’d been threatened with a trip to the woodshed next if she didn’t improve her work ethic. “I really tried to get that one up, but I sort of…burned the muffins on my final exam. She said everything else was solid except for that!”
Pops considered the grades. “Well, I already spanked you once for Home Ec…and you did improve quite a bit over the year. Great work, Joanne. I think this deserves a place on the fridge too!”
Mom used a yellow B-magnet to pin Joanne’s grade report in place.
Pops read through Jack and Jill’s report cards, offering warm praise. The elementary school didn’t use the traditional letter grade system for Juniper’s first grade class, but she received a note indicating she was either on track or exceeding expectations in all her subjects. All three letters quickly found a proud place on the fridge. “Joseph, I already saw your transcripts from Calvin College. No spanking for you, but also nothing to put on the fridge, I’m afraid!”
Joseph leaned back in his chair. “Aw, bummer!”
Although Jayme and Joanne were frequently reminded that, “You’re never too old for a good spanking,” they suspected that Joseph had successfully outgrown spanking by virtue of the fact that he had never done anything to merit one since his last trip to the woodshed, six years ago.
Pops reached for the final envelope. “That leaves us with…Jessica!”
But Jessica snatched up the envelope and opened it first. Jayme had a strange feeling Jessica was trying to be nonchalant, and failing badly. “Oh, not too bad! One of my final exams was rough, but overall–”
“Jessica, no need for the pre-game analysis. Let me see.”
Jessica’s freckles stood out in sharp contrast with her pale face as she handed over the report.
Pops read it silently, breaking his custom of commenting on each subject in turn. “Jessica, how did you manage to get a C-minus in Bible class? That’s down from a B-plus on your last report card. What happened?”
Jessica faked a laugh as she rested her arm on the table. “Funny story, the final exam sort of threw me for a loop. See, I thought we were doing a take-home exam, so I prioritized cramming for all my other classes, so imagine my surprise when–”
“You bombed your final exam? Hold on, I remember you explicitly telling me you were all caught up when you went to the Senior movie night with your classmates.”
Jessica’s lip trembled as she looked from her Poppa to her Mamma, then to each of her siblings in turn. Jayme felt Jessica’s pain as she met her eyes, but what could she do?
Jessica forced herself to keep a stiff upper lip, subconsciously switching from speaking casually to being strictly formal. “That wasn’t a lie, sir! I thought I was caught up, because I was under the assumption I’d have a take-home exam. I only found out it wasn’t a take-home exam the day before, and I spent all night cramming, remember?”
“This is Mr. Jones’ Bible class? What gave you the impression that you were going to get a take-home exam? Did he tell you that, then change his mind later?”
Jessica froze, then took a deep breath. “No sir. I don’t think he said anything about it being a take-home exam. I think I heard Marcie say something about him doing take-home exams this year, and just…assumed?”
“Well, you assumed incorrectly. And that was no reason to procrastinate on studying until the last day before your final exam.”
Jessica’s voice went shrill, and she forgot to keep a defiant tone out of her voice. “Well, I’m sorry, Daddy! I just studied so hard for all my other subjects, that one class sort of fell by the wayside!”
Usually, the Schmidt children all called their father “Poppa.” The girls only called him “Daddy” as a cute baby name…or to willfully tease him, long after the joke ceased to be funny. It had only taken a few spankings to stop the latter usage.
Poppa set down Jessica’s grade report, so that she could see it, and folded his hands on the table. “You’ve got a bad case of ‘Senioritis,’ Jessica. That ‘one class’ is Bible class, which is the heart of the curriculum. And you’ve got a B-minus average overall, so if you sacrificed Bible class to study for your other classes, I’m not seeing it. You had an A average Junior year. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Don’t do it, Jessica! He’s giving you an out! Just apologize and promise to do better! Don’t ‘pull a Jayme’ and make it worse!” thought Jayme.
Unfortunately, Jessica couldn’t read Jayme’s mind. “What’s the big deal? I’ve graduated! I’m already accepted to college…on scholarship! They aren’t going to rescind the offer!”
Poppa stood up slowly. “They might have, Jessica, if you’d failed to graduate high school at the last minute. And you came within a hair’s breadth of doing just that. Go to your room. I’ll be along to speak with you shortly.”
Jessica quailed. “You’re gonna…give me a spanking?”
“We don’t have to discuss that here, in front of your siblings, if you don’t want to, Jessica.”
Jessica’s buck-teeth flashed as she bared her fangs. Jayme always had the impression that Jessica was a cross between Dolly Parton and a rather irate but voluptuous squirrel. “Hold on! That’s not fair! Joanne got a C-plus, and she’s not getting spanked! You put her up on the fridge.”
Joanne sank into her chair, silently wishing to be left out of this argument.
Poppa’s voice wasn’t angry, but it had a controlled edge that Jessica recognized. “Joanne was spanked once already for poor grades, and made the effort to raise her worst grade from a D-minus to a C-plus, and improved all her grades across the board. You have not been spanked because you started the year off with an A average, which you managed to blow up in your last semester in high school. It’s not the grades themselves, it’s your attitude that merits a spanking. Now, I’m giving you a choice, Jessica. We can discuss your attitude in the privacy of your room, or I can give you a spanking right here in the kitchen, before I take you to the woodshed. Which will it be?”
Jayme saw the flash of fury in Jessica’s eyes, before reason prevailed. “I…I’m sorry, Poppa. Please don’t take me to the woodshed.”
Pops pointed towards Jessica’s room. “I don’t want to do that, if I don’t have to. March straight to your room, Jessica. Your mother and I will be along shortly.”
Jessica’s face said everything. She knew she was doomed, but Jayme had a feeling Jessica was trembling with relief, not fear, at the news she would at least be spared a trip to the woodshed. Spankings were a daily occurrence in the Schmidt household, but no one earned a trip to the woodshed without working hard to earn one. You practically had to ask for a trip to the woodshed, and the whole purpose of the trip was to make sure you wouldn’t ask for another anytime soon.
The squeak of Jessica’s chair against the floor broke the stony silence, and Jessica sniffled as she tried to hold her head high and march to her room. She was 18-years-old, and she knew she had a bare-bottom spanking to look forward to. Thanks to her arguing, Jessica didn’t even have the dignity of pretending she wasn’t about to be spanked. All her siblings would have easily guessed her fate anyway, but at least she could have had plausible deniability.
Pops sighed. He hated having to punish any of his precious children. “Jack, Jill, Juniper, go outside and play. Jayme, Joanne, you girls need anything out of your room?”
Jayme snapped to attention, as she heard her name called. “Oh! I was going to do some reading today. Get a jump start on my summer book report?” In fact, Jayme had made no such plans today, but for some strange reason, she didn’t feel like procrastinating on her homework for another minute.
Poppa nodded. “Go get what you need. I suspect you’ll want to read outside, so as not to be interrupted.”
Jayme and Joanne nodded, understanding they were being politely ordered out of the house. Spankings were no state-secret, but Poppa clearly didn’t want to add any extra humiliation to Jessica’s ordeal.
As Jayme passed by Jessica’s bedroom, she caught a glimpse of her older sister weeping softly on her bed through the cracked door. A small, nasty voice at the back of Jayme’s head urged her to pretend to be slow finding her book, so that she could stay and eavesdrop on the start of the spanking, but Jayme told the Devil to shut up.
Walking on autopilot, Jayme scooped up her favorite book, Anne of Green Gables, before remembering that she’d already written a book report on that one. Looking at the pile of great books for next year’s English class, she grabbed a thick one from the top of the pile. It had a sticky note from Mamma recommending it highly, but Jayme didn’t bother to examine the cover.
Jessica’s weeping had given away to ugly sobbing by now, and as Jayme whipped out the hallway and through the kitchen, she couldn’t help but overhear a bit of Mamma and Poppa’s whispered discussion.
“...don’t think she needs the belt, do you, Poppa?”
“No, but I am using the hand paddle.”
“Oh, of course that, at least! We need to nip this in the bud before she starts college.”
“If you give her a warm up, that will give Jess time to calm herself down and steel herself up for the paddle. Think you could do that, Mamma?”
Mamma rolled up her sleeves. “I hate to do it, but I can and I will!”
Jayme threw on her moccasins and stepped outside, before flopping down one of the front porch chairs with her assigned reading.
“Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky?” recited Jayme as she examined the cover. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to relate to this book, somehow?”
From within the house, Jayme could make out the muffled sounds of slaps, and Jessica’s cries of pain as Mamma administered what was surely only the warm-up spanking. Curse this house’s thin walls! Jayme hadn’t gone far enough away.
Ahead of her, she saw the woodshed, which Jessica had so narrowly avoided. Jayme muttered to herself, “Jeepers! If Poppa had taken her to the woodshed, he’d have moved everything around. He could have…”
Jayme trailed off as she caught sight of Joanne, resting against the railing on the opposite side of the porch. Not within earshot of Jayme, but probably within earshot of the half-muffled sounds of Jessica’s spanking.
Jayme and Joanne’s eyes met. Something about the look in Joanne’s eyes bothered Jayme. “Does she think I’m trying to listen in on Jessica’s spanking? Well, I’m not really, and even if I am, she’s doing it too, right?”
As the claps of Mamma’s hand spanking built to a steady rhythm, and Jessica’s yelps and promises and apologies all melted into a long, trailing wail, Jayme kicked up her heels and opened her book.
Jayme spent the next few minutes staring at the title page as she overheard most of Jessica’s spanking. Finally, there was a pause, and Jayme turned to Chapter 1. “On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged…”
The dense crack of a hand-paddle against the bare backside of a B-average student broke the silence, and Jessica’s screams renewed with fresh pleas for mercy. Jayme guessed from experience that Jessica would get 36 whacks from the implement, the number of strokes equal to twice her age in years, assuming Jessica behaved herself and endured the spanking bravely.
After exactly 36 swats, the sounds of the paddling disappeared. The walls were just thick enough to hide any sounds of Jessica’s penitent tears, additional parental lecturing, or words of comfort that surely followed the chastisement. Jayme stared at the first sentence of Crime and Punishment for another few seconds before tossing it aside. “Screw it, I’ll do my homework tomorrow.”
As Jayme flipped to a random page of Anne of Green Gables, not caring where she started, she glanced up at the woodshed. Twisting on her seat, Jayme felt the lingering welts on her sit spots buzzing softly. “It should have been me…”
[End of Chapter 3]