At any rate, whoever the original author is, I hope he will forgive me because I made extensive editorial revisions, but I think this version reads better.
THE READING OF THE WILL
My father's will was to be read in the parlor of the family home. I arrived at the house to find everyone in attendance, my relatives, the family staff, friends of the family -- and a Ms. Greene, apparently my father's solicitor.
She was an imposing woman. Tall and broad shouldered with close cropped light hair framing beautiful eyes, she was dressed in a severe gray suit that hugged a shapely figure, suggesting her obvious charms while staying within boundaries dictated by the formality of the situation. I pegged her at about thirty-five, which made her a decade older than I, but still within an age range that I could relate to. I found her most attractive.
I became apprehensive when Ms. Greene came to the part of the will relating to me. It spoke of "special treatment." Being acutely aware of the strained relations between me and my father in those last few years before I had left the family home, I was wary of being singled out for some kind of "treatment" in the will. Until then my concentration had been primarily on Ms. Greene's amazing legs and voluptuous figure when suddenly she read:
"...and with regard to my darling son, whom I unfortunately spoiled during his formative years, I have made a special provision that must be met before he can expect to inherit the bulk of my estate. I have included here the details of the treatment that, with his acceptance, will be provided by my solicitor. I further require that it be given immediately before any further provisions of the will are read. Should my son refuse the treatment I have prescribed for him, then his inheritance will be forfeit and the supplementary provisions will split the bulk of my estate among others."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I raged. "What treatment? What's going on here?"
There was a general murmur of surprise from the rest of the assembled group as well. My father had passed away quite suddenly. I never had the chance to make amends for the way I had made his life difficult while growing up. I guess I was a bit of a spoiled rich kid and a particularly bratty teenager. Maybe I did need to make amends. It looks as if father had some thoughts of his own about how I should make it up to him when he wrote his will.
"The terms can remain confidential, uhm...to a certain extent," said Ms. Greene sounding a little embarrassed herself. "If you will follow me into the adjoining room I will describe what is required of you."
She addressed the remaining relatives and staff. "The rest of you I would ask to remain here as this should not take long and then we will proceed with the rest of the will."
I felt self conscious as I rose under the watchful eye of over 25 people in the room, all of whom were dying for me to refuse the terms of the will, I'm sure. When we entered the next room, the lovely Ms. Greene explained. "I hope you will make this easy on both of us as it is rather embarrassing for me too," she began. "The terms are very unusual, but I have no alternative but to follow through with them for your own sake, otherwise you won't inherit. The will requires that you agree to accept what I suppose you'd call a delayed reckoning of of sorts."
I was all ears, but what she said next floored me. "You must agree to accept a good sound spanking."
I couldn't believe my ears. I nearly fainted. "What? A spanking?" I said.
She continued without missing a beat, "Yes. It further states that I should treat you like a child: over my knee with your pants down and your bottom bare. I am required to deliver a firm and hard spanking with a hairbrush which your father has provided. Right here and now." She then went to the desk, opened a box that sat there and brought out an old wooden hairbrush.
"This must be some kind of joke," I said. "This can't be legal." But she assured me it was indeed legal and that according to the will I had only five minutes in which to accept my father's punishment…and his estate. "But everyone will hear...they'll know what's going on," I pleaded.
"Yes, actually, I think that was part of your father's plan. It seems he thought the rest of the family and the household staff would be delighted to hear you receive your just desserts. I guess there's no love lost, as they say. I suppose you didn't make yourself very popular over the years did you?"
"No, I guess not. I know I used to treat the staff and our relatives pretty abominably when I was a kid. I'm sure they would be delighted for me to get a..." I couldn't bring myself to say it.
"A spanking?" she helpfully filled in the gap with a smile. She was beginning to look more confident now. "I'm afraid they're bound to hear it and I know it will be an embarrassment for you, but from what you say it sounds as if maybe you deserve it."
My eyes went down to the floor and I must have looked like a little kid about to get it. I couldn’t believe it. They were all out there, listening. They’d be able to hear my abject humiliation.
"You should know that I received my own share of spankings from my mom and dad growing up. They were painful and humiliating but they did the trick of making me mind my manners, most of the time," she offered.
"If I let you do it...I mean...will you..." I didn't really know what I was asking. I guess I was looking for some sign that this wasn’t real, that it was a big joke at my expense. She just shook her head.
"The terms of the will are clear, I'm afraid and I would be in breach of professional ethics if I didn't do exactly as it stipulates. A hard and thorough spanking on the bare bottom is called for and I can assure you I know exactly how to do that. I learned how over my own mother's knee. I'm afraid you will be a very sorry and tearful gentleman when I finish....but rich too, don't forget that. You have only a few more minutes to decide, incidentally."
The minutes ticked by and I began to sweat. To be bent over the lovely Ms. Greene's lap might have some attractions, but she also looked like a very determined young woman, committed to doing the job properly, either out of sense of professional duty or just the will to dispense justice. Her formal looking outfit suddenly seemed to make sense. Had she come dressed for the occasion?
"Are you prepared to accept your father's terms?" she asked. I nodded. She smiled. She went to the desk and picked up the hairbrush and patted it meaningfully against her palm. "Very well then. Please take your trousers off. Perhaps your shirt and tie as well. You don’t want to get everything wrinkled."
With utter humiliation I did as she asked. I felt like a fool standing there in my underwear. She had taken a seat on the leather couch causing her smart, tailored suit skirt to ride up to mid thigh. I noticed. Although I was embarrassed, I was also turned on like never before and it showed. I don't think that biological fact could have escaped Ms. Greene, although she did not acknowledge it. Instead, she assumed the demeanor of a maiden aunt or strict schoolteacher as she held the hairbrush in her hand and pointed with it to her lap.
"Come on, I don't really have to go over your lap, do I? I mean, this is a bit ridiculous. I’m not ten years old."
"You will lower yourself over my knees in the next minute or you will be a poorer young man for it, I assure you."
I sighed and went to her side. I leaned over but couldn't bring myself to lay myself fully over her lap.
"Oh for Pete's sake, stop being such a baby about this," she snapped as she grabbed my ear and pulled me down over her lap. It was no gentle tug either. "I expect you to take this like a man," she said. I stared at the pattern on the carpet feeling like an utter juvenile. "This will be a real spanking but only equivalent to what you would have received as a child if your parents had disciplined you properly. I warn you, if you try to get up before I'm finished, the spanking will begin all over again as the will is clear that the spanking must be thorough and complete. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I whispered. As I stared at the floor, she inserted soft fingers and lowered my shorts in a very matter-of fact way. There was nothing sexual in her attitude at all. It was as if she were performing an unpleasant but necessary duty. In my mind I could see the room full of people next door about to hear me get my bare fanny tanned. They would be delighted, I was certain, and would probably smile at each other with the sound of each whack coming through the door.
Then she began. She brought down the brush with a wicked smack square across my bottom. I was surprised by the force she put behind it. My head snapped up for a moment in shock as a wave of red hot sting spread across my behind. Then, I gritted my teeth and tried to hang on as she started to deliver a thorough and most effective spanking. She was relentless. The brush fell again and again without letup...no pauses for me to catch my breath and no way to handle the awful sting. Before long I was responding to each whack and pleading.
"Ouch! Yah! Owww!" I yelled as each smack landed forcefully.
At first I didn't want to yell out, but believe me when a hard brush is delivered in a determined way across a bare bottom without letup, it only takes about 15 or more whacks for you to forget about self control. I can only say that it stings and burns like blowtorch being applied to one's skin. Each smack creates a wave of blazing heat that builds on and amplifies the previous one. It was quite overwhelming.
Finally, a pause: "How are you coping with it so far? Shall I continue or do you wish to forfeit your inheritance?"
"No, but please no more," I begged her. I couldn't believe how quickly I could be brought to the point of pleading. This woman had a thorough punishment in mind and she was achieving it very quickly.
"Oh stop being such a baby, I've barely started." Another series of smacks built a blazing bonfire across my backside. I had never felt anything like it before and hope to hell I never have to again. She must have given me about fifty whacks with that hard wooden-backed brush. Each and every one was distinct and painful. Each one delivered with force and deliberateness by this determined young woman. My breathing came in short rapid gulps. I was pleaded with her to stop. I was surprised to hear my voice begin to break.
"Well," she said. "It sounds as if your father's message is getting through to you." She was taking a few more seconds between each whack now making sure each one sank in. "Is it?" Particularly hard whacks hit on the underside of my bottom cheeks.
"Yes, yes. I get the message. Pleeeease!"
Vicious whacks now across my thighs. I practically screamed. I really yelled now and after half a dozen on my thighs I broke down and sobbed. That didn't stop the determined Ms. Greene though, she went right on with another dose across my blistered fanny which I was certain must have swollen up like a balloon. It throbbed and stung like nothing I've ever felt before. Hot salty tears were staining my cheeks. I was completely dominated, humiliated and exhausted. For the last little while I had been forgetting about the embarrassment of having the crowd in the next room hear my ordeal. At first I thought they would be an audience to some muffled smacks but they heard a lot more than that. They heard my tears; they heard my pleas; they heard my sobs and they heard every single whack across my bare and thoroughly punished behind. Ms. Greene paused.
That's when I heard a sound that made my humiliation complete. From behind the doors-- the sound of a few hands clapping; then a few more. Then quickly, everyone was applauding. "It sounds as if there's an appreciative crowd out there. I think they're enjoying the show." I thought she was finished but not so. She continued for another few minutes while I literally bawled my eyes out. I kicked my legs and bounced up and down on her lap but I was determined to stick it out. I was convinced that this Ms. Greene would be more than happy to start all over again if I were to get up before being given permission.
After perhaps 100 or so of those devilishly stinging whacks, she finally stopped. "Congratulations." She emphasized the word with an almighty whallop. "You've taken your punishment very well," she said. "You've fulfilled the terms of your father's will." She rubbed the brush against my inflamed backside. I slowly slid off her lap to the floor. I was too weak to get up right away. I felt a thorough respect for the handsome Ms. Greene. She looked at me and said: "If you ever feel the need for a repeat dose, just give me a call. I'd be happy to oblige. Your bottom looks gorgeous in red."
I hardly thought that asking for a repeat dose was likely at the time. The suggestiveness of her tone, if anything, made me want to think about how I might turn the tables on Ms. Greene. I was slowly pulling myself up and rubbing my backside furiously before putting my trousers back on, when I saw Ms. Greene open the door and walk into the next room. A crowd of people surrounded her and shook her hand, congratulating her. I heard comments like:
"Wish I could have done it."
So I stood for the rest of the reading of the will, my face every bit as red as my fanny. Everyone was glancing at me out of the corner of their eye, mirthfully enjoying my discomfort and embarrassment. But at least I had the last laugh because the bulk of the estate was now mine. There was plenty of money and I had already begun to plan my revenge .