The Boys and Girls are Watching Ch. 07

Despite the fact I had needed to punish Francesca for having the packet of cigarettes in the house, I was actually feeling very confident she was over the worse of her addictive tendencies, particularly the alcoholism which was by far the greater worry. It had been several weeks without any major issues and I was actually feeling pretty damn smug that my highly unorthodox approach was actually going to be successful. It helped me feel better about the obvious sexual gratification I was getting from the whole situation.

However I should have realised it was never going to be that easy. In my younger years I use to love to listen to the "Sunscreen Song" sung by Baz Luhrman. One of its numerous prophetic lines speaks of trouble blindsiding you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday when you least expect it. Never a truer word said. I arrived home from town at 4pm on Tuesday afternoon and immediately became concerned as Abigail had arrived home from school but Francesca had not been at the gate to collect her off the school bus. A quick search of the house and surrounding orchard revealed nothing, so I bundled Abigail into the car and drove the short distance to Paula and Dave's neighbouring property where they ran their boutique winery.

On arriving I found Paula in her house. She immediately began looking sheepish when I asked her if she had seen Francesca. Eventually she confessed she had picked up Francesca from our house earlier in the afternoon and brought her around for a cup of coffee

"A cup of coffee?" I scowled.

"To be honest there was a bottle of our latest wine on the table and I did allow her to sample it."

"You did what!" I bellowed. "How could you be so dumb? Just tell me how much the two of you ended up drinking."

Paula looked close to tears. She realised she had screwed up. "We did have a second glass."

"And the rest," I accused.

"No honestly," Paula defended herself. "As Francesca was finishing her second glass she suddenly began crying and then ran out of the house. She ran across the yard in the direction of your house so I assumed she was going home. Oh, Jane, I am so sorry."

"Where is Grand-mere Fran?" my 7 year old daughter, Abigail fretted.

Grand-mere Fran is what my daughter affectionately calls Francesca. Grand-mere being French for Grandmother.

"I am not sure, honey. You stay here with Paula while Mummy has a look." With that I began retracing the track Francesca would have taken if walking the couple of miles back to our house.

On the boundary of our property there is an old disused packing shed and I noticed the door was slightly ajar. I pocked my head in and after my eyes adjusted to the darkness I made out the huddled shape of Francesca curled up in one corner. As she looked up and saw me she immediately burst into tears and began apologizing profusely for what she had done. She admitted she could not believe she had acted so dumbly. She was so ashamed of herself she could not bare going home, knowing she had let everybody down, including herself.

I genuinely felt sorry for her and decided nothing would be served by berating her at that point, so I held her tight and let her cry before walking her the rest of the way to our house. I rang up a very relieved Paula to tell her Francesca was okay, and a short time later she dropped off Abigail, who was much relieved to see Grand-mere Fran. Paula did not wait around as she could tell I was angry.

Francesca was covered with grime from being in the old packing shed so I ran a bath for her and Abigail to share. When Francesca re-emerged she was wearing her bath robe and looking a lot more composed. She joined me in the kitchen for a coffee.

"Can you ever forgive me?" Francesca gazed at me with sad puppy dog eyes, but I knew her regret was genuine.

"Yes I can," I answered honestly. "You at least had the sense to stop drinking before you fell off the rails. And for that you can be applauded. But you know you will be punished, and punished severely?"

"I know. I deserve to be punished and I want to be punished as a reminder to never, ever, act so dumb again in my life."

I had not given thought as to how Francesca might be punished, but I knew a simple one-night hand spank would not suffice.

"You will be punished every night this week until Sunday," I decided.

"Every night!" Francesca complained. "But today is only Tuesday."

"Correct. Do you have a problem with that? If you think I am being too harsh then give me you reasons?"

She hung her head. "No, you are right. It is what I deserve."

"Right. Then your punish starts from now. Hand me your bath robe."

Francesca stared at me in disbelief. "But I have nothing on underneath."

I just continued to hold out my hand waiting for her to hand me her bathrobe.

"Jane, dear, please don't make me do this," Francesca pleaded. "Abigail is in the house. What possible excuse can I give her for being naked?"

"Perhaps you should tell her the truth. Now hand me your bath robe."

Reticently Francesca removed her robe and handed it to me. She could not hide the fact she was intensely embarrassed by standing nude in the kitchen in the late afternoon with Abigail wandering around and Olivier due home shortly from his shift at the hospital.

"Now sit down and have your coffee. It is strong and black, and I think you need it to sober up."

Without argument she slid her naked body onto the stool at the breakfast bar and began to sip her coffee while I continued to prepare dinner. A short time later Abigail strolled into the kitchen in search of a glass of water. The sight of a naked Francesca sitting on the stool stopped her in her tracks. She put her hand up to her mouth and began to giggle.

"Grand-mere Fran, you are so silly," Abigail giggled. "You forgot to put your clothes on."

Francesca shuddered in shame. She looked forlornly from young Abigail to myself, embarrassment rendering her speechless.

I decided something had to be said. "Your Grand-mere has behaved like a naughty little girl so she is going to get a spanking from Mummy. And because she has been very naughty she is not allowed to wear clothes as a part of her punishment."

Abigail nodded wisely, content with my explanation and clearly pleased it was her Grandmother and not her who was in line for the spanking.

After getting her glass of water, Abigail again stared at her naked Grandmother before turning back to me. "Can I watch, please Mummy?"

I couldn't help but grin and looked over at Francesca whose face was registering high anxiety. I acted as if considering my daughter's request for a moment, before responding. "I don't think so, honey. Grand-mere will get such a hard spanking she will be crying so I don't think it is something nice you would want to see."

Abigail decided I was probably correct, and Francesca looked relieved, but it was short lived as Olivier's car pulled up in the yard. Abigail quickly disappeared to greet her father and we could clearly hear her excitedly giving him the rundown on how Grand-mere had no clothes on and she had been so naughty that Mummy was going to spank her. Francesca was looking decidedly sick as father and daughter entered the kitchen, hand in hand. Olivier's face, not surprisingly, registered amusement, but apart from raising his eyebrows questioningly towards me he acted normally. We all gathered in the kitchen and chatted about our day. All except the naked Francesca, who seemed to have very little to say.

As we went to sit down for dinner Francesca whispered a quick plea in my ear to be allowed to put her bath robe back on but a shook my head firmly. As we seated ourselves at the small dining table, Francesca's perfect firm breasts were certainly a centre piece that drew your eyes like a beacon.

Even Abigail could not help noticing. "You look funny at the table Grand-mere Fran with nothing on your boobies."

Francesca blushed with shame. She blushed even more when a short time later she let some sauce drip from her fork on to her left breast, and was all flustered as she had nothing with which to wipe it off. To my surprise Olivier reached for a paper napkin, but instead of handing it to Francesca he made her lean forward while he wiped the sauce off her breast. It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

After dinner a naked and self-conscious Francesca assisted us with washing up. I then escorted her through to the lounge and told her to stand in the corner, facing the wall, and wait for Olivier and I while we put Abigail to bed. She quickly did as she was told, pressing her nose against the wall. Despite the humiliation of having to stand in the corner like a misbehaving schoolgirl, I think she was relieved to be away from the spotlight for at least a few minutes.

When Olivier and I returned almost forty minutes later, Francesca was still standing in the corner as instructed. I requested she move to the centre of the lounge, place her hands on her head, and stand on the tip of her toes. She was confused by my directions, but the confusion quickly turned to alarm when she noticed I was carrying a belt in my hand.

"You are going to be spanked twenty times with the belt. You must remain on your toes, with your hands on your head, and I want you to count each spank and then repeat 'I have let myself down'. Do you understand?"

Francesca nodded apprehensively to indicate she understood. Olivier had seated himself and watched on expressionless. I stood beside Francesca and did a couple of practice swings. I was, after all, a novice with the belt and it clearly required a bit more skill than spanking with your hand.

When I finally swung the first smack with the belt, Francesca howled in surprise and lost her balance, before quickly regaining her composure.

"Oh my god......one....I have let myself down," she managed to mutter.

After ten smacks with the belt Francesca was begging me to stop, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. I was determined she would receive her full punishment, but did give her two minutes of rest before administering the final ten spanks.

The following evening I had a meeting to attend and did not arrive home until after eight thirty. I was pleased to see Olivier had taken control of the situation. He had ordered his Step-mother to undress and stand in the corner until I arrived home. Olivier was in the kitchen getting my dinner out of the microwave, and as I walked in there I was surprised to find Dave and Paula also seated at the breakfast bar. Although Dave cheerfully greeted me, Paula's response was very subdued.

After exchanging small talk Dave turned to his wife, then looked back at Olivier and I. "Paula has confessed to me that she allowed Francesca to drink our wine, and we both agree she acted totally irresponsibly. Don't we Paula?"

Paula looked over at us and nodded forlornly.

"She is equally responsible for what has happened, and as such we both agree that the appropriate resolution is for Paula to be punished for what she has done."

"Punished?" I responded. This was an unexpected, but not unpleasant, turn of events.

"Correct. She needs to share the blame and as such she should share the punishment Francesca is no doubt receiving."

"Okay." I acted as if I was mulling it over. I turned to Paula, "Is this what you want?"

"It is not what I want, but it is what I deserve," she quietly responded.

I turned back to her husband, Dave. "If I agree to punish Paula she will be treated the same as Francesca. This means your wife will be naked in front of Olivier and I, and will be thoroughly punished and humiliated in any manner I see fit. Is this what you want?"

Dave agreed without hesitation. There seemed no doubt in his mind. I turned back to a remorseful looking Paula.

"Well...I guess you had better undress."

My red headed friend looked more than a little distressed by my request. "Now? Here?"

"Yes. Right now. Right here. Totally naked in front of all of us."

For a brief moment Paula gazed at me defiantly, before her shoulders slumped forward in resignation of her fate. Slowly she began to undress, uncovering her slim but well endowed body covered in freckles. Funny, but a few months ago I would have been outraged and jealous if my best friend had stripped naked in front of my husband. Now it made me perversely delighted, especially as I was controlling the whole scenario. My best friend was prepared to demean herself because I had ordered her to do so.

When Paula was naked I made her remain in the kitchen with us for several minutes while I sat down on the stool at our breakfast bar and ate the meal Olivier had pre-prepared for me. Paula's pale, freckled skin was flushed with embarrassment. When she tried to place her hands in front of her breasts and pubic region Dave quickly stepped in and ordered her to put her hands by her sides. Paula was shocked by her husband's actions but quickly complied with his request. As I was about to finish my meal I heard Paula gasp with horror and point embarrassedly at the kitchen doorway. I swivelled around to see my seven year old Abigail standing in the doorway in her pyjamas, clutching her teddy. Paula might have been shocked, but Abigail was clearly unperturbed.

Abigail gazed up at Paula with a knowing smile. "Have you been naughty too, like Grand-mere Fran, and going to get smacked until you cry?"

Paula's mouth dropped open in shock. She was speechless. The rest of us couldn't help but smile at Abigail's matter-of-fact perceptiveness of the situation.

"Yes honey, you are so right," I intervened, "And you definitely don't want to watch naughty Paula crying, do you?"

"No way," was Abigail's quick response.

With that I ordered Paula to go into the lounge to join Francesca and stand with her nose in the corner. She quickly obliged, while I got Abigail a drink before taking her off to bed.

With Abigail tucked up and asleep in her bed, Olivier, Dave and I went into the lounge where our two lovely ladies were awaiting their punishment. Both of them were standing in opposite corners of the room with their noses against the wall, their naked buttocks beautifully on display. It was truly an erotic sight. The three of us seated ourselves before I ordered Francesca and Paula to come and stand in front of us, and put their hands on their head. Both had the look of nervous schoolgirls standing before the headmistress. They were made to remain like that while I gave them a demeaning lecture about their behaviour. Both ladies were then ordered to stand on their toes while they received twenty smacks with the belt from me, which reduced both of them to tears. Dave watched on with fascination, and I strongly suspected he was more the voyeur than offended husband. As always, Olivier remained professional and expressionless. After the spanking Dave took Paula home, but not before confirming they would be back again the next evening to continue the punishment.