Subject: Maryjo (story) johnb
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (John Benson)
Date: 4 Jun 1996 17:30:45 GMT
"Bye, dear," Mrs. Fox said breezily, waving at her daughter. The car keys in her hand jingled.
"Bye, Mom," Maryjo said, waving back. "See ya." Maryjo listened to the front door slam. Then she listened again for the car to start. As it pulled out of the driveway, she looked at her watch. 10:35. She should probably wait fifteen minutes before getting started, just in case her mom had forgotten something and came back prematurely. That would be awful.
The girl paced the downstairs. Livingroom, kitchen, dining area, then back to the livingroom. Her heart pounded and her nerves buzzed when she thought of what was waiting for her upstairs. If a wristwatch could be worn out from being looked at, Maryjo's would have expired by the third circuit.
Finally when the watch showed 10:46, she decided it was safe, sorta, and headed for the stairs and a huge adrenaline rush. She was being Bad. She knew it. But the thought made her all tingley inside and drove her up the stairs. Her short summer skirt and long pony tail flounced as she bounced up the stairs, breathless from just the one short flight.
The upstairs hallway. She ignored her bedroom, and continued on to that of her parents. Their door was closed. She was not invited. She was to stay out. Maryjo looked around guiltily, even though she knew darn well that her dad was away on business, and her mom was at the mall for at least another hour. She opened the door, and stepped inside.
The room was decorated for a woman's taste, with frilly lampshades and curtains. Only one of the two walk-in closets held evidence that a man lived there. Maryjo opened exactly that door, and snapped on the light. Her father's suits and shirts and ties hung there quietly.
There. Maryjo's heart pounded. In a cardboard box on the floor. There they were. The spanking things. That's all they could be. Paddles and whips used to whack asses. She touched them all, imagining herself helplessly receiving their dire attentions. Many of them would be awkward for self-use.
She found one, three leather straps coming out of a short wooden handle. She felt the handle in her hand. Flicked the straps at her bare legs. Yes. This would work. Not on her legs, though. She'd never explain the marks to her mom.
Maryjo came out of the closet and walked over to the bed. Remember to smooth the bedclothes before you leave, she reminded herself. Or they'll see the indentation where your body lay. She pulled down her panties and stepped out of them. Then she jumped onto the lacy bedspread face down, pretending she had been pushed. Her right hand grasped the wooden handle. Her left pulled up the short skirt until it was all above her waist.
It took a minute of experimentation to get the hang of it, but Maryjo was in a good rhythm of smacking and wiggling and moaning when suddenly someone cleared a throat quite loudly.
Maryjo bounced off the bed every bit as fast as she had fallen onto it, and dropped the implement as if it were a hot coal. "Mom," she squeaked.
"I forgot," Mrs. Fox said. "They're closed 'til they get the storm damage fixed."
"Mom, I'm so sorry," Maryjo said. Her face was bright red, embarrassment on top of the sexual rush she had been courting earlier.
"You were not welcome here," her mother said. "I think that calls for punishment."
"Yes, ma'am," Maryjo said. A deepdark thought welled up. "Are you going to spank me?"
"Me?" Mrs. Fox snickered. "Spank a girl who spanks herself? Don't be absurd. I've never spanked you, and I'm not about to start now, after I find that you share the interest that your father and I have hidden from you so carefully all these years."
Maryjo was of two minds, and the larger of the two breathed a sigh of relief.
"Mike will do that for me," Mrs. Fox finished.
"Mike?" Maryjo said. "Pleease Mom, you can't mean that. Not my boyfriend. Pleease."
"Oh?" Mrs. Fox asked. "And just why is that?"
Maryjo clutched at straws. "If he gets that much control over me, he'll fuck me for sure," she blurted.
Mrs. Fox emitted one short sharp "Ha." She looked at her daughter, who was so nervous she couldn't stand still. "And just who was it that had a hissy-fit until I reluctantly changed my mind and signed so you could be put on birth control three months ago?"
"That was just for emergencies," Maryjo said very softly.
"Ah hah," Mrs. Fox pounced. "So all this time you have been playing with Mike and then refusing the final offering?"
The squirming Maryjo nodded dumbly and looked down at the sculptured carpet.
"Well then," her mother said sweetly. "It's double payback time. He can punish you for being a little snoop, and he can punish you for being a little pricktease as well."
Maryjo said something inaudible, while she still studied the carpet.
"What?" her mother asked.
"Are you going to watch?" Maryjo managed weakly.
"Goodness no, child," Mrs. Fox said. "You don't expect me to have manners as poor as yours, do you? You will have privacy for your punishment and its aftermath. You will lead Mike in here and invite him to try every toy on you until he finds the one he likes best. Then he will spank you until you are a crying mess. And then he will take his reward. I'll be downstairs reading a book. I do admit I won't mind if I hear a bit of it, though."
"Why are you doing this?" Maryjo wailed.
"I'm helping you learn something about yourself, dear," Mrs. Fox explained. "Reality might drive this fantasy of yours right out the window. Or it might capture you forever. At least you'll find out which."
I'm doomed, Maryjo thought. She had no doubt which it would be. Another unwanted shock of excitement mixed in with all the fear and guilt. I'm doomed. "When's this supposed to happen?" she asked reluctantly.
"Right now," Mrs. Fox said. "Call him up right this minute. The phone's right there on the table by my side of the bed."
"Please Mom, do I have to?" Maryjo whined. The tears in her eyes weren't playacting. They were quite real.
Maryjo went slowly. First she picked her panties off the floor and slipped them back on. They'd come off just as easily, she realized. Then she took baby steps to the phone. Pushed the buttons. Her eyes leaked and she managed to do it wrong the first time.
The second time, the phone clicked happily and purred the ring-tone. Don't be home, Maryjo begged helplessly.
"Uh, Mike, it's me."
"Oh, hi, Maryjo. What's up?" the voice brightened markedly.
"My mom wants you to come over to my house right away. She's, uh, got something to tell you."
"Is she mad at me?" his voice in her ear instantly colored with concern. "Is she going to want to break us up?"
"More like she's mad at me," Maryjo said. "But somehow, no, it's not going to break us up. I can't explain. Just come over right away. OK?"
"OK, sweetie, I'm on my way. Love ya."
"I love you too," Maryjo said. The words suddenly had a strange taste. She let the phone back into its cradle.
"Splendid," Mrs. Fox said. "I'll get started right away."
Maryjo's nerves were yelling yes/no/yes, until they decoded her mother's last words and stopped dead. What new trials were in store now? "Started on what, Mom?" she asked timidly.
"Why, lunch of course," Mrs. Fox said merrily. "After all that exercise and excitement, a growing boy's going to need some lunch."