Transposed Jill

"I have bologna, ham and cheese, chicken salad, or tuna salad on white, wheat, or rye."

Relieved to have something else to concentrate on, Jill accepted a chicken salad sandwich and a small carton of milk. Under the circumstances, the sandwich was quite tasty.

A short time later, an older woman came through with a cart of magazines and books. Jill requested the current Vogue. Her already strange day became stranger. While the cover photo was the same one, she had seen last week at the hairdresser, the contents were vastly different.

There was an article entitled Spanking Makes a Difference, and was the profile of an up-and-coming, and already quite distinguished female professor at an Ivy League school. Jill remembered the article about the professor from the Vogue at the hairdresser, she had only scanned it but was positive it had a different title. Nonetheless, Jill read, her mind flabbergasted.

"Violet Beauregard is known across campus, and increasingly around the world as an authority on all things that make us humans tick. Full professor at twenty-eight, Macarthur Fellowship awardee, three best sellers, and more. We asked the woman noted for her beauty as much as her brains, how she accomplished all these marvelous things. In her own words, "The judicious use of spanking." I pause. While we women have all heard this; spanking won't make you a debutante, a skilled scientist, or a surgeon. Violet knows this as well. "In the end (pardon the pun) what you get out of spanking depends, ultimately, upon you and you, alone. I can't think of a time when I was lower than when I almost failed my dissertation. My advisor caught a seemingly trivial error, and I basically blew him off. With utmost patience and respect he explained how, if left uncorrected, this seemingly minor mistake would initiate a cascade of other errors which would render my entire premise moot.

That brought me up short. I looked at him. We both realized a regular spanking wouldn't cut it. Lying across your dean's lap in your birthday suit while he administers correction via paddle in front of the entire department certainly does focus the mind. I dedicated my thesis to both my advisor and the dean. It was "hailed as revolutionary" (not my words) and completely changed my life. I'd have none of what I have today, a position of authority, awards, monographs, and the fame and wealth that go with it if I had not had a bit of wisdom imparted to me via my bottom."

The article went on like that for another page or two before ending with,

"Last question: Is there a firm disciplinarian in your life currently?

"Oh yes! He's quite a bit younger than me, but man o' man does he wear the mantle of authority! He's the most judicious spanker I've ever been involved with. When he has to take me over his knee, I am so full of regret that I cannot stand it. He is almost always right. I think I may have found the father for my future daughters."

Jill looked at the cover. It seemed to be an ordinary run-of-the-mill magazine fed through the Twilight Zone. There were ads for butt balm to ease the sting of spankings, and furniture dubbed "spanking chairs." There was an infraction index to tell the reader how likely a particular misdeed was to end in a spanking and the number of probable strokes. There was an article about a "freelance spanker" who disciplines single, moneyed women of the Upper East Side who lack a current firm hand in their lives. All the articles were like that.

After hours of reading, Jill put the magazine down in a daze. "Now I KNOW I am insane!" she cried.

Dinner was served. It was plain but filling fare. Jill remained in her dazed state until lights out when she claimed the top bunk and prayed that all of this was a dream and that in the morning she would wake up in bed back home and everything would be back to normal. Somehow sleep came fast and deep.

The sound of guards pounding nightsticks on the bars to awaken the slumbering inmates instantly absolved Jill of the notion that she was still dreaming. After a breakfast of oatmeal and sausages in their cells, Jill was led to a side office. Adam, her attorney, sat in a chair. She settled herself across from him.

"Good news, Jill. I got them to drop the fine. You are still looking at between twenty and twenty-five judicially applied slaps to your gluteus maximus however."

"You mean they really are going to spank me?"

"Yes, on the bare bottom in open court."

"Adam. I'm on the wrong world!"

"What do you mean, Jill?"

"You've heard of parallel dimensions? That lightning strike when I was in the Uber. I know the car was blue when I got in!"

"What are you talking about, Jill?"

"Don't you see, Adam? I've changed places with myself! Only she isn't me. And you aren't you and Walter's not Walter at least none of you are MY Adam Benedict and MY Walter Hastings!"

"Jill, stop talking like this or I will have you involuntarily committed. This place is heaven compared to the nut house."

"But Adam!"

"Jill. Let's assume your crazy story is the truth. Suppose you did trade places with another version of yourself, somehow, some way. So, what? We have no idea how such a transference happened and equally important, we have no known way to send you back to this mythical parallel universe. As far as the law is concerned you ARE Jill Hastings, Wife of Walter Hastings and you are a resident of THIS universe!"

Adam's words hit home.

"You'd really have me committed, Adam?"

"If you don't stop the crazy talk, in a heartbeat."

Jill took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Walter is waiting outside. Whoever you think he is, this Walter loves you like crazy. He is utterly devoted to you as few husbands are. He's a good man, a good provider, and an excellent disciplinarian."

There was a long meaningful pause.

"Now, Jill. Should I bring Walter in or are you going to continue with the crazy sauce?"

"I'll be good, Adam."

"Now you are talking sense."

Adam stepped out of the room. Jill took another deep breath. Leave it to a lawyer to make things starkly clear. She had two choices, to step into the life of this Jill Hastings or waste away in some nut house. The choice was obvious, even with the prospect of a judicial spanking and probably more spankings in the future.

Walter entered the room. He looked just like her Walter. Maybe he actually was her Walter, and she was suffering a temporary delusion. His eyes were full of concern, his arms were wide. Jill found herself wrapped in them. The muscular firm alien arms were strangely familiar. His kiss was sincere. Whoever he was, he clearly had a passion for her.

"Oh, darling, I'm so, sorry!" she cried.

He stroked her hair, and kissed her cheek.

"It's OK, sweetness. I won't punish you when you come home after they release you and I will be in the courtroom as justice is administered."

"They're going to spank me! In public!"

"I don't write the laws, honey. It's designed to keep you from doing this again, just like any spanking administered in love."

"I don't think the judge loves me, Walter."

"But I do! We'll take a week off soon. Hit a nice romantic beach somewhere."

"I'm scared, honey!" said Jill into Walter's shoulder.

"It will be over soon. I called your work. Told them you had the flu."

"They strip-searched me, Walter! They took naked photos of me!"

"Adam already has a suppression request on the photos. No one will see them unless you get arrested again."

"Oh. Walter! This is horrible."

Walter allowed his wife to have a good long therapeutic cry. When her tears were almost gone, he took back his handkerchief.

"We have to report to the courtroom, Walter," intoned Adam.

The lawyer and husband exited the small conference room and a matron entered.

"We have to get you ready for court, young lady."

Jill allowed herself to be handcuffed and led to a different part of police headquarters.

"Even though the courthouse is right across the street you will be transported by van in wrist and leg irons. Nothing personal, court policy."

Jill felt like some captive gunslinger with her wrists and ankles shackled and all of them chained together. She walked her hobbled paces to the back of the van. Other prisoners had proceeded her both men and women. One of the men, a genuinely hard-bitten character with a livid scar on the left side of his face, eyed Jill wolfishly. She was genuinely terrified of him.

"Baby, would I love to spank you!" he growled as he winked.

Jill wanted to shrink away to invisibility.

"You chicks get it on the bare bottom while us guys do hard time. Life's not fair!"

He leered at Jill a second time.

"Hey baby, after your smacks, make your way over to the transportation holding cell. I should still be there, the bus to the prison doesn't leave till five. I can rub your butt, make you feel better, and that pretty mouth of yours..."

"Shut it, Carson!" exclaimed the guard riding shotgun.

The scarred man fell silent, but his salacious expression spoke volumes.

The male prisoners exited the van first. Jill found herself in a holding room adjoining the courtroom. Her shackles were removed. As she rubbed her wrists, Jill's mind was elsewhere. The promised paddling remained an abstraction. She was focused on what else was different about this reality she had landed in. How was her opposite number faring in her shoes? Is she disappointed that the expensive couch was not in the living room and that her lingerie came mostly from Wal-Mart? What does she think of her Walter? She knew these questions would probably never be answered but they gave her something to focus on.

"Jill Hastings?" intoned the bailiff.

"Here!" said Jill as she raised her hand and stood up.

The bailiff grasped her wrist to lead her to the courtroom. "You've drawn Judge Remington "Iron hand" McClure. Sucks to be you."

Jill gazed up at the distinguished-looking grey-haired judge. He reminded Jill of her grandfather. Adam was at her side. Walter had managed to snag a seat near the front.

"My client is sincerely apologetic, your honor. Although there is no defense for her actions, I ask for leniency in light of the fact that this is her first offense. Her life has been exemplary to this point."

"To this point," echoed the judge. "The thing is, councilor, the law must be applied equally to all lawbreakers. I am not unmoved by your pre-trial documentation and your avid defense of your client. However. Infractions, if left unpunished, can snowball into an avalanche of bad behaviors. In light of this being the defendant's first offense, I will only administer the legal minimum punishment."

"Thank you, your honor. That is more than fair."

"Don't mention it, councilor."

His ice-blue eyes fell upon Jill.

"Young lady. Our society runs on discipline. Rules are for the benefit of all. Chastening cleanses the soul. Corporal punishment delivered fairly and impartially can only benefit the offender. I take no pleasure in my duties, but I am compelled by both the state and a higher power."

He allowed his words a moment to sink in.

"Jill Hastings, approach the seat of punishment."

Jill swallowed hard as the bailiff led her to an oddly shaped chair. It was designed so that the occupant was bent forward with their buttocks elevated and free of obstacles. Jill's wrists were fastened to the front slope of the chair and straps went around each of her thighs.

"Prepare the offender, bailiff," intoned the judge soberly.

Jill felt the bailiff's hands on her. Her short dress was hiked up and folded over her back. With a strong tug, her pantyhose were torn away, exposing her bare ass to everyone in the courtroom. Jill went crimson all over.

"Offender is prepared, your honor."

"Excellent. Count off for me bailiff."

Jill felt a tremendous jolt strike her posterior.

"One!" intoned the bailiff.

Jill bit her lips and fought off tears.

"Two!"

Jill gasped and sobbed.

"Three!"

Jill's tears came fast and furious.

"Four!"

"Five! Six!" the bailiff's monotone voice counted each stroke. Jill was wailing crying from both agony and shame. The pain came in regular jolts with brief islands of relief.

"Twenty!"

The calm between the storms extended. Jill realized that her ordeal was over.

"Bailiff, release the offender."

Jill had trouble standing. She leaned on Adam as the judge closed things out.

"These proceedings are at an end. Justice has been rendered. Woman, leave this place and offend no more."

The gavel came down and the bailiff led Jill to a waiting room. There were chairs, but she believed that it was currently impossible for her to sit down.

Walter and Adam entered the room. She was in Walter's arms immediately.

"Oh, honey! That was so humiliating!"

Walter kissed her, and wiped away a tear.

"It's that way by design, babe. Anyway, you did good. You took it like a woman. I'm proud of you."

"Can I go home now?" sobbed Jill.

Adam spoke, "Just as soon as your clothing and effects arrive from the police station. We just have to wait for the courier, and then, you can change, we'll send back your prison duds and Walter can take you home."

"Oh, Walter, that spanking was intense."

"I'm sorry, honey. It's called a deterrent."

"I won't complain about your spankings ever again, but I hope I never receive another one."

"That, my little accident-prone minx, is up to you."

Walter and Jill kissed deeply. Jill realized that this Walter was a much better kisser.

There was a knock at the door. An older teen wearing a rag-tag courier's uniform entered with the plastic box containing Jill's clothing. The manilla folder containing her jewelry was lying on top.

Walter handed the kid a tip.

"I was instructed to wait, sir. I need the prison clothing to be returned in the box."

"Oh," said Jill as she took up the box and envelope excused herself, and headed for the nearest ladies' room. Ignoring the stares from the other women in their business and everyday attire, Jill found an empty stall, stripped off, and put back on the clothes she had been arrested in. She opened the envelope and slid her rings on first thing. She had to hold on to the familiar in this alien world. It was odd to think that somewhere was her double, perhaps also studying her diamond. Jill folded the brassiere and blue dress neatly. The ruined pantyhose she simply laid atop the dress. She hastened back to the room where Adam and Walter waited and handed the plastic box to the courier.

"Thank you for waiting, sweetheart," she told the kid as he was taking a long appreciative look at her. He smiled back at her, turned on his heels, and walked out.

As soon as he was out the door, Jill asked Adam, "Am I done here?"

"Yes, Jill. I'll wrap everything else."

"I charged up your cell phone and placed it in your purse. Your purse is in the boot of my car."

"Walter, you are so thoughtful."

She kissed him again. His kisses were really sweet.

"Wife, we need to talk. I'm still at a loss to understand what in the world you were thinking. I promised that I wouldn't spank you when we got home but if any wife deserved one you do."

"Can we discuss it over an early dinner in a restaurant?'

"No. I've had to pay Adam so much money over the last two days that I've blown the monthly budget. Plus, I had to take a day off without pay so I'll be getting less on payday. We are going home, you are getting into a filmy negligee and cooking me a steak and potato dinner. Then we can talk.

"Deal!"

Walter drove. Jill checked her phone for missed messages and updates. Her mother wanted to come over to the house tomorrow after Jill finished work. She sent a confirmation text. Speaking of work there were a couple of texts from Helene wishing her a speedy recovery and informing her about the things she had missed.

Walter's hand came to rest on her stocking-clad leg.

"You know. Having you strip-searched is one of my fantasies. The very thought of it always makes me hard. I'm only sorry that I wasn't there to witness it."

"It's not sexy like in the pornos," began Jill.

"Adam told me that a male guard did yours."

Jill flushed and subtly nodded.

"Don't tell me about it, Jill, honey. Just let my mind run with it for a while."

He leaned in as he drove.

"There's that smell again! What is that?"

"I was deloused, the stink is still on me."

"That settles it. Before anything else happens at home, you are getting a bath."

"Goody!"

Bath time was perhaps their favorite way to get intimate as a couple. Walter made such a sensual ritual of it. Scented candles, lilac water, mood music, a sensual undressing, a long soaking bath where she did absolutely nothing and he did absolutely everything. An erotic sensual massage after the bath followed by some stupendous mutually satisfying sex.

The car continued to its destination. Jill decided to focus on the passing landscape. While most things were familiar, here and there, were subtle differences. An unfamiliar storefront here, a differently colored building there, and cars that were very similar to the ones she was familiar with but not exact duplicates. Again, Jill was reminded of Alice stepping through the looking glass. Should she really be anticipating sex with the man driving? He really wasn't her Walter. Wasn't that infidelity? But if he wasn't Walter then who was he? If she wasn't his wife, who was she? It was all monumentally confusing, so, for now, she would simply ignore it and try to put it out of her mind. Maybe, in a few days, things would resolve themselves on their own. In the meantime,... She snuggled up close to Walter. This one, even though he was identical, was somehow even more handsome.

Bath time was everything Jill hoped for and more. Walter expertly massaged her, performed expert cunnilingus, and entered her forcefully. She wasn't imagining things; this Walter had an edge to him. A sort of manly forcefulness that was incredibly arousing. Her own Walter was a very fine but this one was just that more macho, just that much more gentlemanly, just that much forceful in all the ways a red-blooded woman liked. Oh, the hell with it she thought, this was her Walter!

Their phenomenal time together lingered over Jill like a soft woolen blanket. Serenely she nodded off for an unknown span of time. Walter gently shook her awake. He was smiling yet sincere when he related, "Unless you want that postponed spanking to be resurrected, you need to start making my dinner."

Jill stretched and slid out of bed. From the unfamiliar negligees, she selected a daring one of black lace. She always adored how she looked in black. Her pale skin and crimson hair contrasted in such an enticing way with the ebony fabric. Walter wolf-whistled in appreciation as she entered the kitchen. She decided to reward this version of her husband by not donning an Apron while she cooked. Walter effusively praised the results. As she dished out strawberry ice cream for dessert, Jill had chosen to completely forgive this man, whoever he was, for spanking her. Maybe she had overreacted. Was a spanking something to get so bent out of shape about? A moment later, Jill wondered if the feeling that she had overreacted was simply a result of the phenomenal sex she had just experienced.

After dinner, Walter helped her clean the kitchen. He hugged her tight and kissed her. One thing led to another and before long, the two of them were upstairs getting horizontal once more. Satiated and extremely mellow, Jill drifted off to slumber. Yesterday may have sucked, but today was wonderful! Her dreams were exemplary.

She hit the alarm. What a weird dream! Walter was gently snoring. Jill poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Up and at 'em, Walter!"

He grabbed her playfully and stated, "I'm at 'em! Give me that bod!"