Aunt Letitia's Fruitcake
The caller ID was a cool feature on this new phone. At least Rob thought so. Not only could you see who was calling you, you could see who it was you were connected to at the other end of the line. And that was why Rob was puzzled. He had been scrolling through recent calls and came upon a very odd one. The caller ID said "Spank Salon". What? Spank Salon? What in the world was that? But that's what it said, and it also showed that someone had dialed it from this very house at 10:30 this morning. Well, it hadn't been him. So it must have been Laura. And she was supposedly out shopping with Miriam.
Hmmm. I'll just dial it, he thought, and see what this is.
"Spank Salon. May I help you?" a woman answered. She sounded bright and efficient.
"I uh," he realized he didn't know what to say. "Uh, what kind of business is this?" God, he felt like a moron.
She didn't miss a beat. "We offer specialty therapeutic spanking sessions at our three convenient in town locations. This week we are offering a special discount on our No Nonsense Mommy spanking, our Principal's Office spanking, and our Trip to the Woodshed spanking. All are twenty-five percent off this week only."
"Yes, sir. Our trained spankologists are adept at all types of spanking and are fully capable of meeting your every spanking need."
Jeez, this was unbelievable, but Rob was intrigued now. "Well, why would anyone want to be spanked?"
"Various reasons, sir. A lingering guilty feeling that needs to be expunged, listlessness and boredom with life in general, motivation to stop some undesirable behavior, even spicing up one's love life. Our client's motivations are varied."
Rob had to stop and think. Why would Laura have called this company? Rob knew Laura was sometimes hard on herself, but why?...then he had it. Aunt Letitia's fruit cake. Of course. It had come the week before Christmas. The same foul thing every year. They weren't going to eat it, that was for sure. Not even the dog wanted any part of it and he wasn't very particular. When they'd put it in his bowl he'd given it one disgusted sniff and walked away. Once again they'd had to just toss it in the garbage. And yet, at the family Christmas party, when Aunt Letitia had anxiously asked how they liked the fruitcake, Laura had told her that they had "wolfed it down, bite by rapturous bite". She'd laid it on a bit thick.
Rob now understood. The bald-faced lie had been eating at her. That was it. He remembered watching her as she had lied to Aunt Letitia. He had seen the nervous twitch, the telltale gulp as she spoke, the bead of sweat on her forehead. It must have felt like acid eating at her soul to tell such a whopper to their dear aunt.
So, no wonder she had felt the need to atone. That had to be it. To erase the guilt for the lie she had taken the unprecedented step of calling this ....this spanking company and had submitted to a juvenile punishment to assuage her guilt. Well, now Rob felt bad. It was as much his lie as hers. He'd sat there silently and allowed her to wax eloquent about the wretched fruitcake. He had been a co-conspirator at least.
"So, um, did you say twenty-five percent off?"
"Yes, sir. On any of the three spankings I mentioned."
"Ah, could you sort of describe what they are?"
"Certainly. Our No Nonsense Mommy spanking features one of our matronly mom spankologists in a 50's housewife's dress seated in a chair with her favorite flat backed hairbrush. Our Mommy will put you across her knee and apply fifty good solid spanks to your naughty bottom. Options are clothed or bare, and scolding is also optional. It's very popular."
That one brought back memories. Rob unconsciously rubbed his seat with one hand.
"Ok, and the other ones?'
"The Principal's Office features one of our stern teacher spankologists in severe pencil thin skirt, white blouse with choker collar, high heels, hair pulled back in a bun and black horn rimmed glasses. She will order you to bend over her desk and will then give you ten hearty swats on your backside with the school paddle. This is ordinarily a clothed spanking but baring one's posterior is an option. We do not recommend this for first timers. And I might add if you prefer a same sex spankologist, that too is an option....not that there's anything wrong with that," she hastened to add.
That too was familiar. There was that time in fifth grade when Miss Hedgpath had caught him....uh, better get on with it.
"And the last one?"
"Yes, very popular with our clients who grew up in the country. The Trip to the Woodshed features one of our husky farmer's wife spankologists in overalls and a straw hat. She will take you to our authentic simulated outdoor woodshed where you will drop your britches and bend over the wooden trestle. She will then apply twenty sound licks with the razor strap to your properly presented posterior. Again, clothing is optional."
Rob pondered for a moment. Laura actually went through with this, he was sure of it. That's where she was, not shopping with Miriam. He decided. One grand thing about their marriage was that they shared everything. He would share with her. He'd do it. For Laura.
"I'd like to make an appointment."
"Of course, sir. Which special would you like?"
Rob had to think about this. Laura hadn't grown up in the country and she hadn't gone to public school. Her mother was bit of a tartar, the old battle ax. "The No Nonsense Mommy," he said.
"Splendid. Shall we say 1:30 today?" Then he took down the directions.
Rob could hardly sit down to drive the car. His bottom was blazing. Wow, oh, wow. He'd forgotten how much a full blown spanking could hurt. And this one had been a doozy. After filling out the paperwork and giving them his credit card he'd been shown to a cozy room where "Mommy" had been waiting, seated in a sturdy armless chair. He'd decided to go whole hog so he'd opted for a bare bottom spanking complete with scolding.
"Mommy" had been a robust matron in her fifties with blonde hair streaked with grey. She'd read Rob's little description of his offense and had proceeded to scold him severely for the lie. Rob shrank in shame at the scolding. She was really good at this. It was just like mom. Then she'd ordered him to take down his pants and get himself right across her knee. "Right this instant, young man," she'd commanded. She had peeled down his underwear leaving his bottom bare and vulnerable. He must have blushed from head to toe at the rude exposure, but he steeled himself. Laura had done this too. She'd tapped him a few times and said, "Now Robert I'm going to warm that bare fanny of yours. You'll never tell another lie."
And with that she had proceeded to apply crack after crack with that awful brush to his bare sit spots as he wriggled shamelessly across her knee. First it stung, then it burned. Then it became a raging bonfire. She was very adept at holding him down. She slipped one leg over the backs of his knees and jack knifed him even further over her knee. Then she gave him a pasting he'd remember for a very long time. The brush cracked on one cheek then the other, then right across the divide. Over and over. She had certainly been thorough. As the spanks rained down, his buttocks had grown hotter and hotter. It had been fifty hard smacks and when it was over he'd jumped up and hopped around the room rubbing his bottom furiously. "Mommy" had just smiled and said, "Now you will be a good boy from now on, won't you?"
When he got home Laura's car was in the driveway. Good. They'd console each other. He walked in to a foyer laden with packages. Laura saw him coming in.
"Where have you been?" she asked.
"Same place as you, darling," he said grinning.
"Why are you rubbing your butt like that?"
"Aren't you sore too?" asked Rob.
"Hunhh? Why should I be?" Laura was puzzled.
"What? Why shouldn't....wait a minute." Rob went to get the phone. Pulled up the caller ID. "Because. See here? It says right here--- Spank Salon."
Rob held it up for her to see and Laura looked. Then she nodded. "Oh that. Some odd little business. I must have dialed Miriam's number wrong and got them instead. I think her number is one digit off."
Rob's eyes got big. "But what about the fruitcake? Aunt Letitia?"
"What in the world are you talking about Rob? Fruitcake?"
Rob was aghast. "You mean you didn't go there? For lying about the fruitcake? For fibbing to Aunt Letitia?"
"Go where, Rob? You are making no sense at all. And hon, let me tell you. Everybody lies about fruitcake. Nobody eats the stuff. Even the dog won't touch it. Rob? Rob?"
Laura wondered where Rob was going. He had just stormed out. Then she wondered even more when he came back into the room with a determined look in his eye and brandishing her hairbrush.
"Why do you have that hairbrush, Rob? What are you doing?" Rob took her by the arm, propelling her toward the couch. "Rob? What are you....Rob!" she squawked as he sat down and yanked her across his knees. "Rob, no! Not my dress. Pull my dress back down." Then she realized what he meant to do. "Rob, don't you dare. Pull my panties back up! Rob! Rob!.......yeow!"
As the hairbrush spanked her bottom cheeks over and over again Laura could only wonder if this time Rob had really lost his mind....and all over Aunt Letitia's fruitcake?