When a picture Caroline took of her former students Mary and Angela after a spanking goes viral among the alumni of Caroline’s school, it seems like Caroline’s ageplay life with her husband George, and with Mary and Angela, could become embarrassingly public. With the help of her friend Caitlin, and fortified by a steamy weekend with George, Caitlin, and Joe in Bermuda, Caroline will have to get to the bottom of a mystery, while trying to find suitable ageplay partners for Mary and Angela.
Luckily, Mary has met a young but supremely confident guy who calls her “young lady,” and Caitlin has found a rich New York theater producer who may be a stern protector for Angela. But who was it who really posted that picture, and what will it take to get them to see that ageplay can be magical for adults wired that way?
The trouble began at the end of August, with the posting online of a picture I had taken of Mary and Angela’s punished backsides, by a fake account someone had given the name "Spank Mybottom."
The caption read, "Professor, may we have another?"
I took a picture every week, as Mary had asked me to do. By the third week (this was in June), I had added the detail of putting little whiteboards just below their bottoms to remind them why I had spanked and/or caned them. Before I punished them, I had them write on the whiteboards, in the third person, their promises to amend their conduct. I had hoped that to see those promises below their chastised bottoms, besides being, frankly, ultra-hot, might also keep them mindful, when they looked at their pictures, of their need of continual improvement. In the photo posted, which came from our fourth session at the end of June, the whiteboards read:
Mary will get out of bed promptly at eight to work on her graduate school applications. Six strokes for laziness.
Angela will talk to her boyfriend about what she needs from their relationship. Six strokes for failure to assert herself.
Needless to say, the photo went viral among the student body and the recent alumni of Harton College. Mary and Angela spent hours blocking "friends" on their social networks and reporting harassment to the authorities. I suspected Angela’s ex-boyfriend Craig Lowe from the very beginning. He seemed to be the only one who could have had access to the picture, via Angela’s phone, and I had been trying since the beginning, if not to break them up, at least to get Angela to see that their relationship, as it had existed to that time, didn’t do her any good. When she finally had broken up with him at the beginning of August, I had felt vindicated and happy for Angela that she had rid herself of him.
Angela made only a half-hearted attempt at denial. I felt like really I deserved much of the blame for continually telling Angela that she had to talk to him about what she really wanted out of their relationship, but Angela refused to let me take any responsibility.
"You were exactly right, Mamma," she said. "I just didn’t want to admit that he was really an asshole." Angela giggled at that, given the coincidence of her word choice and the issue that had caused the problem. From that giggle, I could see that she would be all right, and that relieved most of my fears. "And it was my fault, for showing him the picture in the first place. He just refused to believe that I could really want to be spanked."
Mary was taking the whole situation stoically too, thank goodness. "What about you, though, Mamma?" Mary asked. "Are you going to get in trouble?"
We were sitting in their little living room. It was Wednesday morning, the time for our usual discipline-session. We would sit and talk for as much as an hour about the events of their lives and of mine, about current events, even about such things as literary criticism and metaphysics, represented no unusual part of these sessions. Our current conversation over tea (which suited us perfectly?me playing, of course, their mamma, with the British stress on the second syllable) didn’t differ much from the way Wednesday mornings always went. The matter of the photo simply added some urgency.
"I think not," I said. "None of my colleagues has mentioned it, and I’m not sure they even know."
"I’m worried that Craig is going to send a link to someone," Angela confessed. "He… he doesn’t like you very much. That’s my fault, because when he got mad and asked why I was breaking up with him, I told him that you had said it was okay to play out, you know, ageplay stuff, and that there was nothing wrong with me for wanting anal, or wanting a daddy. That’s when he said he didn’t believe me, and I showed him the picture. He must have taken my phone and sent the picture to himself while I was in the bathroom."
"That reaction to ageplay is exactly what I would have expected, sweetie," I said. "Don’t blame yourself."
* * * * *
The whole matter had built from something Mary had said back in the spring, about how Angela was doing something very dirty with her boyfriend. My friend Caitlin, who was a much more experienced ageplayer than I, agreed with me that I should press the issue a little bit with Angela. Since my husband George and I had met Caitlin and her husband Joe, my ageplay life had deepened and broadened, and though I had only met her a few months before, I considered Caitlin my best friend in the world?a kind of sister?and above all, a kindred spirit. I trusted her in everything that had anything to do with sex these days.
Caitlin’s approval had emboldened me to say to Angela at the beginning of July, "Miss Heathers, I think you need to tell me what’s going on with Mr. Lowe."
Angela shot Mary a venomous look, but Mary spread her hands in a "Don’t blame me" gesture and said, "I told you that I told Mamma that you were doing something dirty. And that’s all."
"This isn’t about Miss McCall, Miss Heathers. This is about you, and the care you should be taking of your heart."
"Yes, Mamma," said Angela. "Well, you know that we’re dating."
"I do, Miss Heathers. I am afraid, though, that I need you to be very explicit on this subject. I suspect that you have given him rights over your person that you perhaps should have retained at least for a while yet. As your mamma, it is my duty to inquire, and to advise you on such decisions."
Angela was blushing like the sun.? "Would you prefer that Miss McCall not be present for this conversation?" I asked.
"No? no, that’s ?"
I lost my ageplay nerves for a moment. We were coming very near areas that might not be covered in the agreement the three of us had made, that I would try to help Mary and Angela improve their conduct in every reasonable way. Angela’s reaction was hard to read, and that made me wonder whether my questions were in fact reasonable.
"Angela," I said, softly, in my "out-of-play" voice, "feel free to say that this is off-limits. I think I can help, but if you don’t want to go there, just let me know."
"No, Mamma," she replied without hesitation. "I think it will help?I’ve been feeling uneasy?and Mary should stay, because she knows all this stuff already."
"Very well, then," I said, returning to my "Mamma" tone. "Please tell me what rights you have given Mr. Lowe over your person."
"I… Mamma, I… oh, please? I could see that Angela had begun to call scenes involving those rights into her imagination, and that her natural, strong modesty was preventing her from telling me what those scenes held. Getting the girls to admit their faults, however, had swiftly become a specialty of mine.
"Miss Heathers," I said, sternly, "I am afraid you are forcing me to become very explicit myself. Please stand up and remove your clothing."
"What?" Angela and Mary said at the same time.
Returning to my out-of-play voice just for a moment, I whispered, "Remember your safeword, OK?"
Both Angela and Mary nodded. Their safeword was "Tennyson." They had not used it in the six weeks we had been having our sessions, even as I continually?in the interest, I told myself, of helping them develop into their full erotic and practical selves?pushed the limits to which I had previously adhered. The previous week, for example, I had inspected them between their legs (skirts up, panties down, standing in front of me with no touching) for the first time, professing an interest in their hygiene.
That inspection had in turn come about because Mary had blushingly, the week before that, asked if I shaved between my own legs. When I had confessed that, following Caitlin’s example, I waxed these days, Mary had looked inquiringly at Angela, and Angela had nodded to Mary. Sure enough, my inspection revealed that they had given one another Brazilian waxes a few days previous.
We had, that is, been putting our toes further and further over the fuzzy line between discipline and eroticism as our sessions had continued. That was just fine with me, because I had discovered with Caitlin that as an ageplayer, I enjoyed being as naughty as I could possibly be with my fellow little girls. Now, watching Angela hesitantly remove her white cotton T-shirt, I remembered when Caitlin had told me to take off my clothes the last time I had seen her, when I had taken the train into New York City to watch her in a matin?e and spend a little time with her. I blushed, thinking about the spanking she had given me in her dressing room, and smiled, remembering her saying afterward that that spanking had made her performance, she thought, her best ever.
"You heard me, Miss Heathers," I said, even more sternly. "Need I spank you before you comply with my request? Your mamma has seen your charms before; I see no reason you should hesitate to allow me to inspect them when you are naked."
"But, Mamma," said Angela, breathing rather hard, "why must I be naked?"
"Because there are things I must explain to you about your body, child, and lessons I must give that will be much more effective if you feel for yourself the sorts of things I will be talking about, while I talk about them."
"Should I be naked, too?" asked Mary, a little too hopefully.
"No, Mary," I replied. "Angela’s lesson will be more improving for her if she is the only naked one in the room. To be thus will enlist her modesty in my effort to make her consider her actions with regard to her young body."
"Yes, Mamma," Mary said, meekly. I sat in my Mamma chair, as I thought of the high-backed wooden chair I had selected at our first session. Mary sat on the couch, on the other side of Angela, who stood now in her bra and panties?the black skirt having been dropped to lie around her bare feet?in the middle of the rug.
"Everything off, Miss Heathers," I said, hearing a harsh note in my own breathing.
Willowy Angela Heathers, her long black hair in a ballerina’s bun atop her head, removed her modest blue cotton lingerie. Blushing, she stood in front of me with her hands clasped in front of the bare little cleft between her thighs.
"That’s better," I said. "Now, tell me. Does your young man have you between your legs? Does he put his male member in your little private-part?"
"Mamma!" Mary gasped. I had decided to go as far out on this limb as they would let me. Some of it was the wanton, experimental side of my nature, with which I was becoming increasingly comfortable the more ageplay I did with George?and above all, with other littles and grownups, like Caitlin and Joe. But I had an educational purpose as well, one I considered very important: Angela needed to understand just how hardwired ageplay was into her sexuality. I knew I might be wrong, but at the very least I had to see, and Angela had to see, whether playing this way with me and Mary didn’t feel, to her, closer to her true self than fooling around with Craig Lowe.
"Hush, Mary McCall," I said. "It is a perfectly natural thing for young people to do, especially these days. At the same time, I place the utmost importance on a girl’s making certain that she does it with an attitude suitable to her ultimate improvement and success as a confident, competent young woman. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mamma," Mary said.
"Miss Heathers, do you understand?"
"Yes, Mamma," Angela said. "I… yes… um… we do have… sex." I noted with satisfaction that I had managed to return a level of shame about sex to her that she had certainly lost in the college atmosphere of hook-ups and friends with benefits. Not that I of all people wanted to express anything traditionally moralistic about female sexuality or female pleasure! I thought I could definitely discern on Angela’s face the signs that my words were awakening her to the idea that an infusion of Victorian notions about shame would paradoxically bring a kind of heat to her erotic life that hook-ups with Craig Lowe never could.