Subject: Repost: A TV Land Christmas
From: "carolinajim" <email@example.com>
Date: 19 Dec 1997 21:05:06 -0800
The usual disclaimers apply
Fiction, F/f, nc, parental, no sex
First posted - December, 1996
Merry Christmas! Jim
"Mother, PLEASE let me go over to Janet's...I promise I'll be home by five.", Betty pleaded. "That will give me plenty of time to get ready."
A determined Margaret Anderson shook her head. Tonight was her annual Christmas Eve get-together for the members of the church, and she needed all the help she could get. "I'm sorry, Betty - it's out of the question. There's simply too much to do before we go to church tonight."
"But Mo-therrr...", the 18-year-old whined, to no avail. She cast a pitiful glance at her dad. "Father, can't you talk to her?"
Jim Anderson looked at his oldest daughter's puppy-dog eyes and melted. "Oh, Margaret, let her go out. We can get everything done. Bud and Cathy will help. Won't you, kids?"
The two youngest readily agreed. No need to get their parents upset with them so close to Christmas. "Sure, Pop. We'll be glad to.", 14-year-old Bud stated with a show of enthusiasm rarely seen when it came to doing chores around the house. Cathy also added her willingness. The 10-year-old had visions of a Kissy Doll under the tree in the morning.
"Oh, all right.", an aggravated Margaret hissed while giving her husband the evil eye. That girl had her father wrapped around her little finger. Betty ran up to Jim and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Father! I'm going upstairs to get changed."
"Remember, be home by five, Princess! The Christmas Eve service starts at seven!", Jim said as she climbed the stairs...
As the afternoon wore on, Jim was beginning to regret allowing Betty to leave. Margaret was right - there was a lot to do. But by 5:00, the dining room table was covered with plates of cookies, assorted pies and cakes, glasses, dishes, and napkins. Margaret made up a batch of her famous holiday punch (non-alcoholic, of course!), and placed it in the center of the table. Bud built a fire in the fireplace, Cathy turned on the Christmas tree lights, and the candles on the mantelpiece were lit. There was only one thing missing - Betty.
"Where is that girl?", Margaret fumed as she prepared a light supper of soup and sandwiches. "We have to start getting dressed for church soon." Jim put his hand on her shoulder. "Relax, Dear. She'll be home soon. We've got plenty of time."
The minutes flew by. "Jim, it's getting late - it's almost 5:45. I'm going to call Janet's house." Margaret did just that, only to find that Betty wasn't there. "Janet's mother said they went over to someone else's house, but didn't say who's. What do we do now?"
"Well, if Betty isn't home in time, we'll go to church without her.", Jim replied, not sounding too concerned at all. He saw the anxious look on his wife's face and gave her a hug. "Don't worry, Margaret...she's a big girl. She probably just got caught up with friends and lost track of time..." "Daddy, isn't Betty going to church with us?", Cathy asked as the family was walking out the door.
Jim gave her a reassuring pat on the head. "Not tonight, Kitten. We'll see her when we get home."
"Boy, if I pulled a stunt like that, I'd be in BIG trouble.", Bud groused on the way to the car. "Betty gets away with everything!"
To Margaret's (and Jim's) great consternation, there was no sign of Betty when they returned. The guests started arriving while Margaret contemplated calling the police. "I'm getting worried.", she told Jim. "It's not like Betty to be late like this."
"I know it's not. Let's give her another thirty minutes. If she's not back by then, I'll call. Meanwhile, we have a house full of people to entertain."
Margaret reluctantly agreed, and started mingling with the company. Finally, just before the half hour was up, she saw a bedraggled Betty sneak in the back door. Her hair was a mess and the dress she was wearing was badly wrinkled, drawing stares from the guests. Margaret worked her way through the crowd and confronted her at the bottom of the stairs. "Just where have you been!", she whispered angrily.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Mother...", Betty answered, slightly slurring her words. Margaret smelled alcohol on her breath, the result of several glasses of spiked egg nog. "I fell asleep at Peggy Brown's house. I just woke up a few minutes ago."
"Betty Anderson, you've been drinking! You didn't fall asleep, you passed out!"
The high school senior had sobered up considerably and realized the trouble she was in. Alcohol was strictly forbidden in the Anderson household. "No, Mother...I wasn't drinking."
Jim saw his daughter and rushed over. "Princess! Are you all right?" Betty put her arms around her father and said she was. He, too, detected the alcohol.
"Come with me." An angry Margaret took Betty by the arm and led her up the stairs. "You should be ashamed of yourself! And on Christmas Eve!"
Downstairs, everything returned to normal, although there was some talk of Betty's appearance. Upstairs in Betty's bedroom, however, things were not so normal. "Mother, what are you going to do!", she gasped when her mom shut the door and took the hairbrush from the top of the dresser.
"I'm going to do something I've never done to you, Betty.", Margaret said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to give you a spanking."
The terrified teenager took a step back as her mother approached. "Mother, no! I'm sorry I was late!"
"Oh, you're not being spanked just for that.", Margaret replied, tapping the solid wooden brush in her palm. "You were also drinking, and then you lied about it. And, if I may be so bold, I think you've needed this for a very long time. I've had it up to here with your whining and always running to your father when you don't get your way. It's high time you learned that Father doesn't always know best."
Betty backed herself up against the bed. "No, Mother...please!", she begged as her mother seated herself on the edge and flipped her across the maternal lap. "This can't be happening!"
"Oh but it is.", Margaret said, lifting the back of the slim teen's dress and slip. "And you're not going to like it one little bit!" She inserted her fingers in the elastic waistband of Betty's nylon panties and slipped the garment down to the kneehollows.
Mortified at having her bottom bared, Betty protested vehemently. "Mother, how dare you!", she cried. "Pull my pants back up this instant!"
Two resounding cracks of the hairbrush landed on the snow-white buttocks. "I suggest you keep your voice down, young lady. Do you want everyone downstairs to hear you?"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!...
The conversations taking place downstairs suddenly grew quiet as the sounds of an old-fashioned spanking drifted throughout the house. The cracking of a hairbrush on bare skin was unmistakeable. "Daddy, what's going on up there?", Cathy asked as she and Jim stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Jim's face took on a sad expression. "I think your sister is getting her backside warmed, Kitten..."
"Warmed" was not quite the right word - scorched was more like it. Margaret may not have had any experience administering a spanking, but she had been on the receiving end a couple of times when she was a teenager. She wielded the hairbrush like her own mom did - fast and furious. Betty bucked and squirmed over her lap, her rapidly-reddening bare bottom on fire. Tears flowed easily. "Pleeeease Mommmmmy!", she cried, "It hurts!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "It's going to hurt a lot more, young lady, before I'm finished with you!", Margaret warned. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "You're not going to sit down for a week!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"I won't do it again!", Betty sobbed, drumming her shoes on the floor. The heat and pain radiating from her backside was unbearable. Every smack of the hairbrush felt like gasoline being poured on a blaze, and Margaret showed no signs of stopping. "AIEEEEEE! AIEEEEEE! NO MORE!", the hapless girl screamed, confirming to all downstairs what was takingplace."WAAAAAAHAAAAA! WAAAAA! WAAAAAHAAAAHAAAA!"
Under the circumstances, Margaret decided a few blisters were called for. Therefore, she clamped her leg over Betty's calves and really let her have it but good. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The purpling bottomcheeks jiggled and shook under the onslaught, and the teen's yells were loud enough for Santa to hear. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "WAAAAAAHAAAA! WAAAAAHAAAHAAAA!"
The longest - and most painful - five minutes of Betty's young life finally came to an end. Margaret put the hairbrush down and pulled her daughter's underpants up over the swollen buttocks. Betty shakily stood up, her arms holding the back of her dress and slip up as her hands tenderly massaged the seat of her panties. "Has a lesson been learned?", Margaret asked the sobbing girl.
"Oh yes, Mommy...", Betty tearfully replied, her hands busily rubbing her bottom through the thin nylon.
Margaret stood up. "Good. You have fifteen minutes to get yourself cleaned up. Then I want you downstairs. Is that understood?"
"Please Mommy...I can't go down there!", Betty cried.
"You can and you will! Or you can go back over my lap again! Is that what you want!"
"I'll go downstairs..."
Exactly fifteen minutes later, Betty was once again the center of attention. She had washed her face, combed her hair and changed dresses, but none of that hid her tell-tale puffy eyes or stopped her sniffling. The guests stopped and stared as she slowly walked down the stairs, holding the bannister with one hand and valiantly trying to keep the other from her blistered behind. "M-Merry C-Christmas, everyone...", Betty said, forcing a smile and breaking the ice. As hard as it was, she started mingling.
"I have a feeling Betty met her Waterloo...", Jim said to Margaret as they watched their red-faced and red-bottomed daughter slink into the kitchen. "Yes, she did.", Margaret replied with a self-satisfied smirk. "I have a feeling your 'Princess' will be eating Christmas dinner sitting on a pillow tomorrow." She was right. This time, Mother knew best...