This is a F/F spanking discipline story. I consider there to be at least implied consent between my characters, who are in an established relationship. My characters’ views towards spanking (or any other topic) are not necessarily reflective of my own, or how I feel any real-world dynamic should play out.
This is Part 2. For Part 1, please click here. Please note this second half may make little sense without reading part 1 first.
Sorry for leaving you all with a cliffhanger last week! Just kidding… I’m not sorry! But anyway, to make it up to you, here’s part 2 of Fenella’s story! I hope you enjoy it!
On the brink of tears from frustration more than anything else, Fenella finally unrooted herself from her spot and fairly flung herself forwards and over Alma’s waiting lap, stumbling a little along the way.
“It’s not fair!” she cried at once, once she was there, and she wriggled and fussed as she felt Alma adjusting her position. Her short wool dress was flipped up and out of the way, and her leggings and undergarments were tugged down. She kicked her feet and whined, but none of this seemed to have any effect on the other witch.
“It’s not fair!” Fenella cried again, as she felt the cool air wash over her bare bottom. “I don’t want a spanking!”
“Oh, but you’ve certainly earned one,” Alma informed her. Then, she brought the hairbrush down several times, hard, in quick succession on Fenella’s bottom.
Fenella could only gasp as the sting of it seemed almost to take her breath away. Her struggle ceased temporarily as her body tensed and clenched from the impact, but soon she was wriggling again and making as much fuss as ever.
“Settle down, my girl,” Alma said, her tone an oddly soothing contrast to the force with which she had just wielded the hairbrush. “Or you’re going to be here a long time.”
“No, no, no!” Fenella protested, barely knowing what she was saying ‘no’ to, but just knowing she didn’t agree with anything right now. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” she cried next, her legs flailing in response to the next few hard smacks of the hairbrush.
Alma didn’t stop this time, but fell into a steady continuous rhythm, with each swat of the brush making Fenella gasp and wince.
Feet still kicking, Fenella clenched and unclenched her fists, and tried her best to wiggle off Alma’s lap. She was going nowhere though, and Alma never missed her target. Her bottom turned pink quickly, and then began to turn red.
Then, the lecture began.
“I don’t know quite what’s got into you today,” Alma said, never breaking rhythm, and ignoring the shrill squeaks of pain and protest that came in response to each smack. “Just last week, you were nothing but excited about this reunion. But we’ll come back to that. It’s understandable for you to be anxious, but it’s unacceptable for you to take it out on me, with the rudeness and attitude you’ve been displaying today. I know you’re stressed, and I was prepared to be tolerant of it, and have your apologies once you’d had a chance to get over it by yourself. But your little temper tantrum just now has made it perfectly clear that you’re begging for a thorough spanking and so that’s exactly what you’ll get.”
“No!” Fenella all but wailed, anguish in her voice. She was mortified to hear Alma’s opinion that she had as good as been asking for this particular sort of attention; especially because a part of her brain told her that Alma was entirely correct. The burning sting in her backside was more intense than her embarrassment, however, and another moment later she released the phrase she so often cringed over later. “Ow, please, it’s hurts!”
“Good,” Alma said, with some satisfaction. “It’s supposed to hurt. Perhaps a sore bottom will serve as a good reminder for you, to think about your behaviour and attitude in the future.”
“Ow! I’m sorry!” Fenella cried. Tears pricked her eyes, and the brush stung her backside like nothing else could, but her tone didn’t sound quite repentant, and Alma took no pity on her yet.
“What are you sorry for?” the older witch asked, now applying the brush to the backs of Fenella’s thighs, and tightening her grip on the girl who struggled and kicked with renewed energy.
There was no answer from Fenella though, so Alma continued.
“Perhaps you’d like to say sorry to me for storming out mid-conversation earlier today,” she suggested, applying the brush with renewed vigor on the fuller part of Fenella’s bottom again.
“I didn’t!” Fenella gasped, clutching now at Alma’s leg.
“No? Then perhaps you can apologise for the attitude you gave me over getting ready for bed, and for ignoring my instructions to put the books away, and for using petty spells to make a mess when you didn’t get your way, and for stalling and making me count, when you knew perfectly well you’d more than earned yourself a spanking tonight.”
“Ah! Oww! I’m sorry!” Fenella tried again, sounding much more heartfelt than before. “I really am!” she added, a little desperately as the spanking began to become too much for her to bear. “I didn’t mean to!”
“You didn’t mean to what?”
“Ow! I don’t know! I didn’t mean to be so bad!”
“Oh sweetie, you’re not bad,” Alma assured her, though the brush cracked down with no less force than before on Fenella’s now very sore and swollen looking bottom. “You’re my good girl. Sometimes you just need the reminder, don’t you think?”
“Ow, yes ma’am,” Fenella agreed, desperately hanging onto Alma’s leg. “I am sorry! I’m really sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“Then let’s finish up, sort things out, and get you into bed,” Alma said.
Fenella seemed almost to relax slightly at that, and cried through the remainder of her spanking, which felt to her as though it was a long time, but was in fact over quite quickly. Still, by the end, her bottom looked well and truly punished, and continued to throb from the residual impact of the hairbrush. It seemed unlikely she would sit comfortably for some time.
Then, she was upright, and blowing her nose into the handkerchief that Alma held for her, and mumbling her further apologies as she was cuddled and comforted.
“Let’s put these books away,” Alma said. “And then we’ll talk about tomorrow. I want to understand why you’re so upset.”
“Yes ma’am,” Fenella agreed softly, her face still pressed into Alma’s shirtfront. Then, she took a breath and stood, forgetting to be self-conscious about her leggings and undergarments which had become a tangled mess bunched around her ankles.
It took a moment to gather her thoughts for the witchcraft needed to put the books away, but soon the books were lifting from where they’d been scattered on the floor, and floating back to their respective places on the bookshelves.
Alma wrinkled her nose as she sometimes did when she was concentrating — something Fenella had been spanked for teasing her for in the past — and wiggled her fingers, murmuring a spell that straightened out the pages again, that had been creased in their tumble from Fenella’s tantrum spell earlier.
In a matter of minutes, the undamaged books were back in their rightful places and soon after, Fenella was dressed for bed and pulling the covers up close to her face, as though she hoped to hide in them. She lay on her side, keeping the weight off her bottom.
“Everyone expects me to do great things,” she said, as Alma climbed onto the bed beside her, tugged the sheets away from her face, and stroked her cheek and her hair. Fenella had decided not to wait for questions, but just try to explain herself. “I was top of my class, and I planned to travel the world. But all I’ve done is… stay here. Which I like!” she added hastily, blushing deeply and briefly turning her face down into the sheets to hide it for a moment. She didn’t want Alma to feel insulted in any way. “But… but it’s not what people will think I’ve been doing. Probably. Or not what I should have.”
“The things you decide to do with your life; are you doing them to make your classmates happy? Do you make your decisions for them?” Alma asked.
“Well, no,” Fenella admitted. It seemed silly when put like that.
“Then who are you making those decisions for?”
Fenella flushed slightly. “Me, I guess…”
“Yes, you, silly!” Alma said, poking Fenella in the side, then giving her a quick tickle. She laughed a little as Fenella squealed indignantly, and flailed. Struggling to sit up, Fenella sobered again, and sighed, leaning into the other woman.
“It’s still awkward though, and embarrassing,” she lamented. “To say I planned to do great things, and I’ve not done any of the things I said I would. And nothing important at all. And I imagine they’ve all done a lot more than me,” she added.
Alma smiled a little. “I’ve been finding out as I go, that life hardly ever works out how you expect it will. And don’t think for a moment that you haven’t done anything important. The work you do here, and in the village, is valuable and important. Maybe it’s not important on a world-changing scale. But it’s important to the village, and especially to those people you help, and to me. I can’t imagine for a second that your friends won’t see that, unless they turn out to be entirely different from the sort people you’ve spent the last few years describing to me. And don’t be so quick to assume they’ve been up to anything too far removed from what you’ve been doing these past few years.”
Fenella didn’t answer but Alma could see she was taking in the words that were being said to her, and turning them over in her mind.
“Snuggle down then,” Alma said then. “It really is past your bedtime now.”
“Yes ma’am,” Fenella agreed, in a tired and slightly resigned voice. But then she paused. There was something else she realised she should probably admit. “I wanted to stop time,” she confessed, in almost a whisper.
Alma leaned over and kissed her. “Yes, I know, lovely. I saw what you were reading. I’m sorry to say, but even witches can’t do that! As I’m sure you’ve discovered.”
“Yeah,” Fenella said sadly. “I mean yes ma’am. I mean… goodnight.”
Alma chucked slightly Fenella snuggle down between the sheets. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
Despite the continued soreness in her bottom, it didn’t take long before Fenella was fast asleep.
The next day dawned bright and clear, with only a light breeze remaining from yesterday’s storm.
Fenella jumped from nervousness to excitement and back again as she ate her breakfast and readied herself to fly to the Academy where the reunion would take place. She’d risen early, as it would take almost half a day to fly there by broom. Then, she’d stay the night, and return by the evening of the following day.
She hugged Alma extra tightly before setting off into the early morning sky.
It wasn’t a comfortable ride after the spanking she’d received the day before, but Fenella arrived without incident, and was soon enveloped in the hugs of her friends, and also those of her old teachers.
She began answering hesitantly at first, when asked questions about her life after leaving the Academy, but soon gained confidence as she saw the expressions on her friends’ faces. They didn’t seem at all unimpressed by her stories. In fact, quite the opposite.
“Did you really splint a crow’s wing?” Ursula asked, wide eyed.
“And did it fly again?” put in Sybil, before Fenella could answer Ursula.
“Will you share your ingredients list with me for that potion you mentioned earlier?” asked Aggie. “The one for fixing the sniffles. There was a real case of them near where I’ve been staying. It seems one person sneezes on the next, and then before you know it, they’ve all got it!”
And it turned out, as Alma had suspected, her friends’ exploits didn’t exactly outmatch her own.
Most had moved back to wherever they had come from before attending the Academy, and often become involved with their local coven.
“I’ve learnt a new spell,” declared Mona over dinner. “Watch this!”
Frowning deeply, she seemed to be waving her hands slightly under the table.
“There!” she said.
“What did it do?” asked Fenella, curious.
“Wait,” said Mona. “All right, watch my peas…”
Sure enough, it soon became evident they were vanishing one at a time from her plate.
“When I vanish them all at once it’s too obvious,” Mona explained. “But this way, it’s less noticeable, see?”
The others laughed; Mona had been notorious at school for trying unsuccessfully to vanish her vegetables. More times than the girls could count, the teachers had caused vanished peas, carrots, and other vegetables to rain back down onto her plate. Then of course, she’d been made to sit and eat them, long after they’d gone cold.
“So, has anyone got into any trouble lately?” Ursula asked the table.
Fenella blushed and glanced down as the tales of mischief began to fly about. Sitting rather uncomfortably on a very sore bottom was making her recent trouble seem a bit too close to want to share. Luckily, the others had plenty of stories of their own to tell and if anyone noticed her occasionally shifting position, they didn’t comment.
By the time Fenella returned the next evening to Alma’s cottage, she was exhausted but happy.
“I take it things went well,” Alma said, clearly reading Fenella’s mood.
“Yes ma’am,” Fenella said. She felt a hotness rising in her cheeks as she blushed a little at the memory of her behaviour the other night. “You were right, of course.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Alma said, smiling. “Let’s get you something to eat then, and into bed without any fuss shall we?”
“Yes ma’am,” Fenella said again, before adding cheekily, “I’ll save being naughty for another night then.”
“I’m sure you will,” Alma said. Her tone suggested disapproval, but her eyes danced as she shared the joke.
Fenella slept very soundly that night, and there was no more trouble at bedtime for quite a while.
However, if one were to look very closely at her dinner plate in the weeks after her reunion, they might have noticed a few gradually vanishing vegetables…