The Wrong Slipper

The Wrong Slipper 1

By Red Rover

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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WARNING: This is somewhat edgy.

"Ellen, you lazy little twit, come here this instant,” Janet Thatcher yelled.

"Yes, Mum,” the small blond 17-year-old responded. "What's wrong?" she scurried from the living room into the kitchen where Mrs. Thatcher stood in front of a sink full of dirty dishes.

"Didn't I tell you to wash these dishes and put them away before dinner?" the tall, heavyset woman demanded.

"Yes, Mum, and I was going to do them right after I finished the vacuuming," the frightened teen replied.

"A likely story," Janet snapped. "If I didn't keep an eye on you every second nothing would get done around here. Now come with me." Grabbing her stepdaughter by the ear, she forced the squealing young girl to follow her to the living room. Seating herself on the arm of the couch, she pulled the petite girl over her lap, lifted her short skirt and yanked her panties down to her knees.

"No, Mum, please don't spank me in front of the boys," the girl pleaded. Her two younger stepbrothers looked up from their video game and grinned.

Janet's heavy hand descended on the girl's bare bottom with a resounding SPLAT. Ellen yelped with pain and involuntarily kicked both legs, knocking over a large floor lamp that stood at the end of the couch.

"Naughty, naughty girl,” her stepmother thundered, "If that lamp is broken, I will take the hide off your bottom with the razor strap."   She continued the spanking without slowing down, covering the bawling teen's bottom with bright red blotches. The two boys came over and watched with interest.

As the girl squirmed under the fusillade of spanks and sobbed loudly in pain and humiliation. the older woman paused. "Henry, bring me the hairbrush from my dresser, the big mahogany one. I am not making any impression on this silly child with my hand."

16-year-old Henry dashed off to comply while 14-year-old Roger reached out tentatively to touch his sister's red bottom. "Ah, getting good and warm,” he said approvingly.

"Not as warm as it will be," his mother promised with an evil smirk. "By the time I am finished, we will be able to cook dinner on this brat's plump little bottom."

Henry came dashing back to the living room and handed his mother the hairbrush. Ellen was still sobbing quietly, but mewed in horrified anticipation when she saw the heavy brush.

Her stepmother tapped it against the quivering girl's already red bottom and brought it down with a massive SMACK on her left bottom cheek. Ellen howled in pain and bucked helplessly on the strong woman's lap. She continued to howl as the heavy brush smacked into her blistered cheeks time after time. Finally, she lay exhausted and whimpering over her stepmother's knees, tears streaming down her cheeks and great purple splotches covering her abused bottom.

Janet set the brush down and smiled in satisfaction. "OK boys, feel her bottom now and see how warm it is." The boys took advantage of the opportunity to thoroughly explore the girl's anatomy, patting, pinching and prodding at will in her most sensitive private areas. Ellen could no nothing but sob in anguish as their fingers violated every aspect of her modesty.

Finally, Janet stood up, dumping the startled girl onto the floor. "Stand up, young lady, you've only gotten a little spanking. Roger get my small sewing basket."

Roger dashed off and returned in a few minutes with the basket. Janet took out two large safety pins and fastened Ellen's short skirt to the back of her blouse, leaving her battered bottom on full view.

"All right Missy, " Janet directed. "Get your lazy bottom out into that kitchen and make sure every dish is spotless. Boys, I need you to set up the dining room table for eight. The Baxters are coming over for dinner, so use the good silverware and the blue-and-white napkins and placemats. If your stupid sister can get the dishes washed without breaking any of them, we will use those as soon as they are dry. In fact, Roger, you will help her dry them."

The children went off to accomplish their assigned tasks. Ellen still sniffling and moving stiffly with the pain permeating her buttocks and thigh muscles.

Janet proceeded to the kitchen and completed the preparation for the meal, pausing to toss Ellen's discarded panties into the laundry hamper in the hall.

The Baxters arrived promptly at seven. Henry met them at the door and escorted them to the living room. He and Rodney had changed into neat but casual clothing and Janet had changed into a semi-formal dress. Ellen was still in her schoolgirl uniform with her skirt still pinned up. At the sound of the doorbell, she ducked into the kitchen and started to undo the safety pins. Janet noticed this and grabbed her arm.

"Just what do you think you're doing, young lady?" she asked in a menacing tone.

"Putting my skirt down," the girl answered fearfully. "I can't serve dinner like this!"

"You can and you WILL," her stepmother stated firmly. "You are still being punished and the Baxters will witness that punishment. And if you don't behave yourself, they will witness even more punishment, Is that clear?"

Tears welled up in Ellen's eyes, "Yes, Mum."

Janet smiled. "Very good. Now wash your face, get all that makeup off and bring in the hors d'oeuvres tray and see what people want for drinks."

The Baxters consisted of George and Marcia Baxter, their 18 year old son Frank, their 15 year old daughter Angela and Mrs. Baxter's elderly mother Caroline. Frank's eyes widened at the sight of Ellen's bare bottom and Angela giggled briefly, but the adults seemed not to notice her odd attire.

For the next 45 minutes, the adults chatted at one end of the room, the youngsters talked among themselves at the other end and Ellen circulated, bringing fresh drinks, replenishing hors d'oeuvres and taking away dirty dishes and glasses. She was acutely conscious of her bare bottom, but could not avoid displaying it at very close quarters to every person in the room.

Dinner was much the same. George noted that there was only seating for eight whereas there were nine people in the room. "I say," he remarked, in a puzzled manner, "We seem to be a chair short here."

"No," Janet stated calmly. "Ellen has been a naughty little girl today and will not be seated at the table. She will serve us and then make her own meal from the leftovers in the kitchen."

The Baxters nodded and Ellen's cheeks burned red at this latest humiliation. She continued serving in silence until she tripped over something and dropped a tray of dirty dishes.

Although only two small dishes were broken, Janet Thatcher was livid. "You clumsy child!" she raged. "Clean that up immediately, and get me the big wooden spoon from the kitchen."

The frightened teen rushed to comply. Mrs. Thatcher took the heavy wooden spoon from the girl's trembling hands and pulled her heavy dining room chair out into an area where all the diners had a full view of it. "Kneel on that chair, young lady, and bend over."

Ellen was already crying as she knelt on the chair and presented her already bruised bare bottom to the group. Janet pulled an ottoman up next to the chair. Put your hands on the ottoman and put your bottom well up in the air," she snapped. "And move your legs further apart. No, further still."

Ellen wailed in fear and anticipation as she complied, knowing she was presenting all her most private parts to the guests and her younger brothers. Janet drew back the spoon and smacked the wide end into her stepdaughter's bottom with her full strength. Ellen screamed and wobbled on the chair.

"Henry, come here and hold your sister,” Janet directed. Henry came forward and, at his mother's direction, slid the sobbing girl's skirt up further over her back and grasped her firmly around her bared waist. Now every inch of Ellen's body below her breasts was in full display.

Janet laid into the exposed tender skin with a will, covering the bruised bottom with more bruises and adding new bruises to the previously undamaged thighs. This was accompanied by wild howls and frantic gyrations of the tortured girl's lower body. Finally, Janet reversed the spoon and used the narrow round handle like a cane to strike a dozen blows to the girl's exposed groove, rosebud and perineum. Ellen screamed until her voice was reduced to a hoarse croak and went limp, with only Henry's firm grip preventing her from falling off the chair.

Janet put down the spoon and smiled with satisfaction. "Very well, young lady, you may go to your room. Roger and Henry will finish clearing the table."

She turned back to the table and addressed the stunned guests. "Well that should teach the little minx a lesson. Now we can retire to the living room for coffee and cakes. Our serving girl is indisposed at the moment, but Henry and Roger will see to your needs."

The Baxters slowly filed into the living room as Ellen slowly climbed down off the chair, limped to the doorway and slunk up the stairs to her room,

TO BE CONTINUED

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