Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
Off to Siberia
(****, M/f, Intense, schoolgirl discipline)
A thinly disguised story based on a popular TV show. (Approximately 5,422 words. Originally published 2004-01.)
THE SETUP: The Kamdons' 17-year-old daughter Mary has been caught stealing from the family's emergency cash fund... over $500! Her behavior lately has been horrible. She's become rude, selfish, arrogant, has been fired from three jobs, is hanging out with loser pot-using friends, was seen drinking beer and driving, and her mother just found a joint in Mary's jacket pocket.
THE SOLUTION: Send Mary to live with her grandfather, a former Army Colonel, who might be able to keep her out of trouble.
Mary was still fuming when the plane landed in Siberia (a.k.a. Chicago). She'd been exiled. Her parents had kicked her out! It was so unfair. So she'd been a bit moody of late, and Mom and Dad didn't like her new friends. Big deal. And those jobs sucked anyway. She'd been planning to quit, but wasn't it better to milk the paycheck as long as she could? Oh, sure, she'd borrowed some money from the family piggy bank, but she had debts and Mom and Dad wouldn't loan her anything. How else was she supposed to make her car payment? She had intended to pay it back as soon as she found a job she liked.
Now she was stuck in Siberia freezing her ass off. She didn't know a soul besides her Grandparents. The town they lived in was miles from the city -- an archaic little place in the middle of nowhere. She'd be bored inside of five minutes.
As she emerged from the gateway lugging her carryon, she immediately spotted the tall grim figure of the Colonel, her grandfather. He nodded brusquely at her and took her bag.
"I can carry it," she said, but he didn't even give her a choice. That was his way. With the Colonel, you did it his way, no questions asked or answered.
They walked in silence to the baggage claim area where Mary went to the luggage ramp and waited for her bags to arrive. It took a while, but finally she saw the suitcases and grabbed them as they passed. The Colonel was there, grabbing the heavier one. Without a word he turned and left, Mary following him sullenly.
They didn't say much on the way home. It was an hour drive. Mary wondered how much the Colonel knew.
"It's all lies," she said finally. He grunted. She tried again. "What my parents told you about me. It's not exactly the truth. They're trying to make me out to be some criminal, but I'm not. I'm just growing up, that's all."
The Colonel gave her a quizzical glance. "Growing up?"
For some reason the look made her blush. She stared straight ahead and put on her most mature expression. "Yes. I'm an adult now."
"Of course," said the Colonel, but his tone suggested the opposite. It made Mary angry.
"You've got no right to judge me!" she shouted. "I didn't want to come here!"
Suddenly, without warning, the Colonel slammed on the brakes and swerved the truck to the side of the highway. He put on the emergency blinkers and turned to face his granddaughter. Despite her bravado, Mary cringed.
"Now you listen here, young lady," the Colonel said in a low voice that assumed respect, "you are here because your grandmother and I felt we could help. We know the kind of nonsense you've been getting into and we're going to make sure you're cured of it quick!"
"I hate all of you," spat Mary. "You're all against me."
"You know that isn't the slightest bit true, Mary. If we were really against you we'd just let you out here on the side of the road and let whatever happens to you happen to you. But we won't do that. We're your family and we're not about to let you destroy your life. It's not going to be easy, and it's going to hurt, but we're going to turn you around."
"Just how do you think you're going to do that?"
"You'll see when we get home," said the Colonel grimly. "Your grandmother and I have a plan. For now let's just say it involves treating you exactly like the way you deserve to be treated, and that's NOT like an adult."
Mary slumped into silence, her brow furrowing a bit at this mysterious and potentially ominous news. The Colonel pulled back into traffic and they finished the trip in silence.
At her grandparents' house Mary was given the downstairs guest room, where she carefully unpacked her suitcases and glared at her surroundings. So this was going to be her home for the next... six months? A year? She had no idea. She'd be eighteen in the summer, but without money where could she go?
Grandma had made a nice light supper, and though Mary was hungry, she refused to eat more than a few bites. She made a fuss over the soup, claiming it was too salty, and criticized the grilled cheese sandwiches as being fattening. Grandma frowned but didn't respond, just glanced at her husband with a knowing look.
After supper, Mary wandered into the living room and turned on the television. She was shocked to discover her grandparents didn't have cable. But the Colonel was there in seconds, turning it off.
"No TV tonight," said the Colonel. "Your grandmother and I want to talk to you."
Mary shrugged and threw herself on the couch, bracing her mind for another meaningless lecture.
The Colonel waited for his wife to arrive, then began. "We've discussed your behavior with your parents and we agree with them that something critical must be done. Now your parents are not as old-fashioned as we old fogies' are -- we have our own ideas as to how to cure your disease.
"We've concluded that your most serious problem is with money. You spend money you don't have, you have no respect for earning money, and you insult your family members by borrowing from them and not paying it back."
Mary looked bored. "Yeah? So?"
"So your grandmother and I have an idea of how you can earn some money."
"Oh, please, I am _NOT_ doing chores around here."
The Colonel frowned. "Actually, you WILL be doing chores around here, but you won't be getting paid for that. You'll be getting paid for something else."
Grandma interjected her own comment. "We've come up with a repayment scheme for your debts," she said. "You owe $564.53. We're going to help you pay it off."
Mary looked at her kindly grandmother with suspicion. "What do I have to do?"
"Nothing," said the Colonel. "You don't have to DO anything. Your grandmother and I will do all the work."
Now Mary was scratching her head. "Huh? What the hell are you guys talking about?"
Grandma frowned at her granddaughter's language. "The Colonel will explain," she said softly.
"Indeed I will," grinned the Colonel. "In short, Mary, you've been behaving like an irresponsible brat, so that's how we're going to treat you: exactly as if you were eight years old and throwing a temper tantrum."
A sudden chill went through the pretty teen. For the first time, a flash of concern haunted her brow. "Explain," she said curtly.
"We're going to spank you, dear," said Grandma sweetly.
"We're going to PAY you to be spanked," added the Colonel. "You'll earn a dollar for every spanking, three dollars for a paddling, four dollars for a strapping, and fifty cents for each stroke of the switch."
There was a long silence while Mary just stared at her insane relatives.
"We'll pay you in cash," said the Colonel finally. "You don't even _have_ to use the money to pay back your debt if you don't want to. The only requirements are that you -- at minimum -- pay the interest on the debt each month, and that you earn at least one dollar every day. Your father has set the interest rate at 2% per month, compounded daily, so it amounts to less than 40 cents per day. You should be able to easily afford that."
"This is a joke, right?" asked Mary. "You guys are trying to scare me?"
"No joke," said Grandma. "This is the plan. You'll stay here with us until all your debts are paid off, and you might even want to stay a little longer and save up some cash."
"Look, Colonel, I'm almost eighteen years old--"
"You aren't acting like it."
"You have no right--"
"Mary, be _quiet_," said the Colonel, and Mary shut her mouth without even realizing she'd done it.
"I realize this is a shock to you. You haven't been spanked in years. In my day children were spanked all through high school and beyond, but your mother and father wanted to raise you kids the modern way. Lotta good that's done. No, you're a rebellious teen, and what you desperately need -- in fact _want_ -- is a good, old-fashioned, thorough, bare bottom paddling."
"I know you, Mary. You're a good girl inside. But you've got all these conflicting desires, and it kills you to just ignore them and go with what you know is right. So you rebel. You're not really rebelling against your family or God, but against yourself. What you desperately want is someone to tell you want to do in a way that brooks no argument. That's what we've got here. You're going to have a sore bottom the whole time you're here, Mary, and it's going to be a constant reminder that you're not in charge, that being bad is expensive, and that rebelling is not worth the cost."
Mary's face was crimson with embarrassment and fury. "This is INSANE," she muttered. "I'm leaving." She tried to stand up, but the Colonel calmly put a heavy hand on her shoulder and firmly pushed her down.
"Don't even think of it," he said sternly. "You're not going anywhere. At least not until you've been punished."
"Colonel, you're not spanking me," declared Mary resolutely.
The Colonel only smiled. "Rebel if you want, but I have to spank you without your cooperation, not only will your punishment be more severe, you won't receive a dime toward your debt."
"Like I fucking care! Your whole stupid payment thing is ridiculous! You actually thought I'd cooperate with that?"
Grandma stepped forward. "I'd watch that mouth of yours, young lady, unless you want me to take you into the bathroom and wash your mouth out with soap!"
Mary stared at her grandparents in disbelief. "You guys are nuts!"
The Colonel sighed. "Mary, please. Let's not make this any worse than it is. Here's what's going to happen. We've decided that tonight, it being your first exposure to spanking -- in what, a dozen years? -- we're going to give you a little sampling of each implement, that way you'll know what to expect."
The pretty teen's face was ugly with a scornful scowl. "You're going to spank me _now_?"
"Right now. So first, remove those jeans."
"Yeah, right. Like hell I will."
"Mary, I'm not kidding. Remove them NOW or it will be much worse."
The Colonel's voice was so hard that Mary hesitated. For decades grown men -- hard, tough men -- had leapt to obey his every command. He was used to being obeyed without question, and there was something compelling about that. Mary didn't want to cooperate, but found her hands going to her jeans and unbuttoning them. Tears of rage stung her eyes.
"This isn't fair, it isn't _fucking_ fair," she muttered. She felt awful that she had kept her voice low enough so Grandma wouldn't hear, but she didn't doubt the old woman would keep her mouth-washing threat.
Drawing courage from her anger, she yanked open the jeans, kicked off her tennis shoes, and pulled down the jeans. She stepped out of them boldly, daring her grandfather to look at her firm, sexy teenage body. As she walked to a chair to toss her jeans over the back, she went slowly to let the Colonel have a good look. Her panties were sky blue high-cuts, exposing the sides of her hips and the lower portions of her asscheeks. They made her feel sexy and adult.
"Good," said the Colonel. "Now take down those ridiculous panties. A girl of your age ought to be wearing sensible white briefs."
Mary's brave rebellious teen act vanished. She stared at her grandparents in disbelief. "You can't be serious!"
"I am most serious, young lady, and you're about to find out just HOW serious if you don't hurry up! Get those underpants off NOW!"
"You just want to see me NAKED," said Mary with more confidence than she felt. "You're a dirty old man."
The Colonel ignored her comment. "If I have to take those down myself, I will double the number of switch strokes I'd planned to give you and NONE of them will count toward your debt!"
Mary frowned. Nothing was working. She'd tried cooperating, resisting, arguing, and being the adult, but her grandparents were being stubborn and unreasonable. She felt a wave of unreality wash over her. This was a dream, right? This could not be happening. Her legs felt a chill and she looked down and saw she was holding her panties in her hand. She trembled as she placed them on the chair with her jeans.
The Colonel was sitting on the sofa. He patted his lap. Though Mary hadn't been spanked in over a decade, she knew what that meant. She gave him a scowling shrug as she draped herself across his lap. She didn't want to do it -- she wanted to argue with him more -- but it felt ridiculous and humiliating to stand there naked from the waist down, with him seeing _everything_, and debate the matter. Better just humor the old fart.
Lying across the old man's lap was an odd position, Mary discovered. Her hips were over the Colonel's legs so her face was lower than her butt. He was obviously getting a good look. Fine, let him admire her ass. But he wasn't seeing anything else! She gripped her legs together tightly so he wouldn't see all her secrets.
Truth be told, Mary was proud of her butt. She was an athlete, slender and firm, but womanhood was in the process of rounding her figure, giving her ass a tight curvy shape even she found sexy. That was why she'd bought those fancy panties -- she found she enjoyed being sexy. She wasn't quite the rebel enough to dress that way on the outside, at least not yet, but it was fun to be nearly nude underneath without even her mom suspecting.
But Mary quickly discovered that being spanked bare assed over your grandfather's lap wasn't the least bit sexy. In fact, it was downright painful!
The first thing she noticed was how heavy and large the Colonel's hand was. His palm nearly covered her whole cheek, and when he brought it down in a hard slap, it felt as hard as a wooden board. The stinging pain that radiated through her caused her to yelp loudly and struggle frantically.
But Grandma was there instantly, grabbing Mary's hands and holding them down in front of her face, and the Colonel used his left hand to push down the middle of Mary's back. His right hand didn't stop with just one spank, but rose and dropped with the regularity of a piston.
In seconds, Mary was gasping and writhing. Her butt was on fire! Hot stinging pain covered her whole backside. She couldn't believe how much it hurt. When the Colonel had mentioned spanking, Mary had a vision of her Mom giving her a slap or two on the rump. This was _nothing_ like that. This was... a beating!
But Mary was stubborn. She still didn't want the Colonel to see how he was hurting her, so though she couldn't help but continue to wiggle and kick her legs a bit, she bit her lip and didn't cry out. The hard slaps continued to rain down, pounding her butt, every blow flattening the plump, shapely cheeks. To Mary, it felt as if her bottom had been burned with a hot iron. Surely that was enough, wasn't it? How long would this continue?
A spanking from the Colonel, Mary discovered, was not a brief affair. He spanked hard and fast, but at a consistent pace. He calmly reddened every bit of Mary's bare cheeks, including her upper thighs, giving her one hundred slaps to each buttock. Mary was crying by the time it was over, tears pouring down her pretty face. She looked all the more beautiful in her humble contrition when she was released and she stood gingerly, dancing a bit as she rubbed her sore rear end. She completely forgotten about her nudity, and stood showing everything to the Colonel without a thought.
"That," said the Colonel, "was a spanking. That earned you one dollar." He took out his wallet and removed a dollar bill. He handed it to the stunned Mary.
"A DOLLAR? FOR THAT?" she screamed. "No way! That was worth a HUNDRED dollars!"
"Pfftttt," spat the Colonel. "That was nothing. Just a little spanking with my hand. Your bottom's barely pink!"
There was a large mirror in the hallway off of the living room, and Mary ran to it to verify her grandfather's claims. She arched her neck around her back and tried to look at her ass in the mirror. It felt like he'd blistered her, but to her dismay Mary saw he was right: her bottom was only red.
"Time for your paddling," called the Colonel, and when Mary came back, suddenly shy as she realized she was running around the room half-naked, she stopped dead in astonishment at the wooden board in the old man's hands.
The paddle was a small vicious thing. It was about six inches wide and nine inches long (not counting the handle), just perfect for covering one cheek. It was about three eight's of an inch thick: not too heavy, but heavy enough to do more than just sting.
Mary's mouth was dry. Her stomach felt queasy, and her bottom hurt just thinking of more spanking. "How..." she began, "how many t-t-times are you, uh, planning on hitting me with that?"
"Fifty," said the Colonel. "Twenty-five to each cheek. That's assuming you cooperate. If you make a fuss, I'll add more, and those extras don't earn you any extra dough."
Mary felt dizzy, like she was going to faint. She wanted to believe this was all a dream, but her ass hurt too much for it to be unreal. Was the Colonel seriously going to hurt her some more?
"Please," she said. "Can't we do this tomorrow?"
"Oh now," said the Colonel firmly. "This must be done tonight. Immediately, in fact. You're going to taste every punishment we've got."
"But that's not fair!" Mary blurted out. She was growing frightened. The harsh reality of the wooden paddle in her grandfather's hand was draining her willpower.
"It's not supposed to be fair. It's supposed to be punishment. You've been bad, and none of the punishments your parents have used have had any affect on your behavior, so we're going to try this."
In a daze, Mary found herself back over the Colonel's lap, her naked butt once again higher than her head. This time it felt even more humiliating, her bottom extra-sensitive, and feeling ultra-vulnerable.
The first smack from the paddle brought her to reality instantly. Mary gasped, a wolf's howl emerging from her throat. "Ooooh!" she cried, simultaneously trying to wiggle off her grandfather's lap and reach back with her hands and protect her butt.
Grandma grabbed Mary's hands and held on, and the Colonel wrapped his right leg around Mary's, pinning her between his legs. Thus firmly held, Mary could do nothing but howl as the paddle walloped her rear. Her pretty pink cheeks quickly reddened and became scarlet, then darkened to crimson. Mary just sobbed, her tears soaking into the sofa cushion.
Finally it was over. This time Mary was positive her ass was blistered. She'd never felt such awful pain in all her life. Even that time she'd broken her arm it hadn't been this bad. This was a pain that just kept on. There was no relief, no more comfortable position, no mitigating of the agony that kept flooding her.
"Don't move," said the Colonel, and Mary didn't. She felt him reaching for the coffee table and heard a slight clatter as the paddle was put down. Her relief quickly changed to terror when she felt something cool against her bottom. She craned her neck and saw it was a black leather belt.
"Noooo," she moaned. "No more, please!"
But the Colonel was not someone you argued with. He'd promised her a strapping and he was going to deliver one. Mary struggled, but she was tightly held. Her grandparents might have been old, but they both outweighed her, and both were healthy and strong from decades of physical labor.
"That was a paddling. This is a strapping," said Colonel. "It's twenty-five strokes across both cheeks. Normally I'd do this with you bent over the back of the sofa, but since this is your first time and you seem a little frisky, I'll administer this one with you over my lap."
Mary just moaned in dull protest, fully aware of the futility of her situation. She could hardly move, let alone stop what was about to happen. The she heard a slight whistling sound and something fierce bit her ass. It crossed both cheeks, stinging something awful. It felt like a hot wire cutting through her skin. She screamed.
"That was just one stroke," laughed the Colonel. "Twenty-four to go!"
Mary burst into a fresh batch of tears. The leather licked her again and again. She kicked frantically, but her legs barely moved. The whipping continued, the heavy belt leaving welts across her cheeks. In moments Mary was incoherent, babbling on about "mercy" and uttering phrases like "Please stop!" and "I'll be good, I swear!"
When she was finally allowed up, Mary raced to the mirror, still sobbing. She tried to rub the sting out of her bottom but just pressing her palms against the hot cheeks hurt. She craned her neck and stared at the horrendous crimson and purple mess that used to be her lily white ass.
"Oh God," she moaned. "What have you done? Look at my ass! Look at it! You've ruined it!"
Grandma was there, shaking her head. "Relax, child. It's just a little bruised and sore. It will be back to normal in no time. Besides, the soreness will help remind you to be good long after the spanking's over."
For some reason Mary couldn't understand, she embraced her Grandma. She hugged the old woman and sobbed against her. The woman had assisted in her horrible punishment and yet somehow Mary knew the woman still loved her. And right now, Mary wanted, no, _needed_ love.
After ten minutes or so, the Colonel cleared his throat. "I'm glad you two are getting along, but we've still got a switching to finish."
He handed an astonished Mary a five dollar bill and two ones. "Payment," he said.
She stared the bills in horror. "Oh my God," she whispered. "That's all I get?"
"You'll soon learn to value money, won't you, dear?" asked Grandma.
The Colonel had a small penknife in his hand. He gave it Mary.
"What's that for?" she asked.
"You're going to go in the back yard and cut yourself a switch."
Mary's jaw dropped. "No way, no more, not tonight!"
"You're going to get six strokes with the switch tonight," said the Colonel in his no-nonsense voice. "If I have to go cut the switch I'll give you a full dozen and I won't pay you a dime!"
Trembling and fighting back fresh tears, Mary went to her clothes. She put the money on the chair and picked up her jeans.
"Oh no," said the Colonel. "You can put on shoes, but no pants."
"You're a naughty girl, Mary. Naughty girls don't get to be dignified and wear clothes. While you're being punished you'll be bare and that's all there is to it."
Her face burning, Mary put on her shoes, grabbed the penknife, and stomped out the back door. It was dark outside, though the porch lights lit the yard up pretty well. Mary wasn't worried about people seeing her as she knew her grandparents' yard had a high fence around it, but she felt awfully naked dress only in shoes and T-shirt and nothing in between.
She found the peach tree and broke off a thin branch. She began cutting off the twigs and tiny stubs to smooth the switch. She'd never been switched but it sounded painful. Her bottom was already so sore, she couldn't imagine being whipped some more. She swung it through the air, hearing it whistle, and shuddered.
It was freezing outside, though it felt good to her steaming bottom. She hurried back inside as soon as the switch was ready.
The Colonel was waiting by the sofa. "Bend over the back," he said.
Distantly, Mary felt the urge to rebel, but it was faint and she really didn't want to test her grandfather. Six strokes of the switch didn't sound too bad, but a dozen was certainly worse. She obediently bent over the sofa.
There was the hiss of the rod through the air and suddenly she was up, leaping about the room, clutching her ass frantically. She could have sworn that he'd branded her with a red-hot poker!
The Colonel waited calmly for Mary to return. She eventually did, cowed and subdued, tears staining her face. Her beautiful almond eyes glared at him, eying him with distrust, as though he'd betrayed her. She looked at the thin switch with a new respect and horror.
Mary managed to stay in place for the second stroke, but not without a great deal of writhing and loud moaning. Her slender body danced across the back of the sofa while the Colonel watched and waited.
Soon, her petite buttocks bore a series of stripes and Mary was sobbing. The pain was hideous, absolutely dreadful. All she could think about was how much she wanted it to stop, and she was oh-so-tempted to cover her bottom and run to her room, but the Colonel's threat of a dozen licks of the switch hung her memory and forced her to try to accept the six with the minimum of fuss.
Finally, it was over. She was standing, her hands ruefully rubbing her blazing buttocks. She could feel the finger-thick weals left by the awful switch, the ridges of the welts from the leather belt, and her whole bottom felt swollen and blistered from the paddling.
The Colonel was there, peeling off three one dollar bills and handing them to her as though he was passing over her allowance.
"Plenty more where that came from, Mary," said the Colonel. "Any time you need some money, just ask. Remember, it's a dollar for a spanking, three for a paddling, four for a strapping, and fifty cents for each switch lick. You can earn as much as you want, but you must earn at least a dollar every day. And you can pay it toward your debt or keep the money: it's up to you. But keep in mind we are charging interest on your debt, so unless you want a sore bottom forever I'd suggest you start paying it off."
Mary took the money silently, grabbed her clothes, and went to her room. There she carefully counted the money, disbelief and dread filling her soul. Eleven dollars. All that for a whopping eleven dollars. Just a week ago she'd spent fifteen for a movie, large popcorn, and soda.
_This is a helluva way to earn money,_ she thought bitterly. She imagined her nearly $600 in debt as a mountain of dollar bills and mentally took away eleven of them. It made no discernible difference. Damn that pile was huge!
In the darkness, Mary stretched out naked on the bed on her belly and played with herself. It was a modest comfort. Her buttocks blazed and throbbed. Tears stung her eyes as she imagined her future: considering her debt, she'd be sleeping on her stomach until summer.
In the morning, she awoke with an idea. At breakfast, she told the Colonel, "I get the message: I'll get a real job. Today. And I won't quit or be fired. I swear. Even at minimum wage I should be able to pay back that debt in a couple months."
Mary had done the math: if she had no social life and worked as much as she could, after school and on Saturdays, maybe 30 hours a week, she might net $100 a week. That would pay off the debt pretty quickly.
"No problem," said the Colonel. "But a few words of warning. Remember, you're still required to earn at least one dollar every day via our method, regardless of any other source of income. Plus, you've got to handle any transportation on your own: your Grandma and I are not your personal taxi service. I've got my old Impalla I can let you use, but you'll have to pay for maintenance, gas, and insurance. In advance. With your driving record and the Impalla's constant need for oil and minor repair, I'd guess that might run you a couple hundred a month."
Mary winced. She hadn't thought of that. Damn, that would mean it would take her twice as long to get out of debt.
"And if you're earning so much money," inserted Grandma, "you might as well help out here with a little rent. Not much: let's say $100 a month? That should cover your room and board. You can do laundry and other chores, too, of course, to cover the rest."
Mary's mouth fell open. "No way!" she said. "That's not fair!"
"Why isn't it fair?" asked the Colonel. "Look, if you earn money our way, it will be primarily to pay off your debt, so we'll do our part and not charge you rent. If you're off earning your own money, it's completely fair that we should charge you a little. And $100 is nothing: no way you'd even find a room for that around here, let alone room _and_ board."
The teen's face fell as she realized the trap she was in. If she got a job and worked her ass off -- _So to speak_, she thought ruefully -- the most she could bring home would be a measly hundred bucks. It'd take her six months to pay off her debt at that rate!
On the other hand, if she took the spankings-for-money route, it would take $10 a day worth of spankings to pay off the debt in two months! No way she could endure a punishment like she'd gotten last night every day! Maybe once a week, but at that rate it would take her a year to pay off the debt.
And either way, she'd be getting at least one spanking every day.
"One other thing, honey," said Grandma sweetly. "Remember, when you're in our house you're under our rules. That means any infraction of our rules will result in punishment."
Mary raised her eyebrows. "Let me guess: you'll spank me."
"In addition to whatever I take for payment."
Damn. At her current behavioral rate and her grandparents' ultra-strict rules, Mary would almost be guaranteed a couple spankings a week. And they'd probably be pretty hard ones: that would severely cut into her ability to earn spanking pay.
Fury at her hopeless situation raged through her. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "You have this fuckin' rigged!" Mary kicked one of the kitchen chairs over to show her outrage, instantly realizing the stupidity of her actions.
Grandma sighed. "I warned you about your language. Will you come quietly to the bathroom for your mouth-washing or would you like a spanking first?"
For a moment Mary resisted, then her sore bottom won out and her shoulders slumped forward in despair. "I'll come quietly," she whispered humbly.
_This really is Siberia_, she thought bitterly. _I'm exiled and I won't be going home for a long, long time._