One thing about living in the ‘Deep South’ as many call it is that folks from elsewhere like to visit. That’s how come my seventeen-year-old cousin, Amy, from the north happened to be staying on our farm, along with her mother. Hearing what they didn’t intend me to hear, I gathered Amy’s parents had a nasty bust-up and her mother brought Amy down south to get some time away from her father.

I loved Amy staying with us. I’m just seven months older than her, and we share a family likeness in both being blond, tall for girls, and having kind of similar facial features, to the point a stranger might think we were sisters. My folks put an extra bed in my room so Amy and I could share, and we enjoyed each other’s company.

At the time, I had an old Mustang convertible that had seen better days, but my brother, although younger, was good at fixing cars and I used it most days, either to drive to school or to stuff I wanted to do on Saturdays. Sundays was strictly church and socializing.

One day, Amy and I decided to play tennis at a country club where my folks had family membership. It wasn’t the grandest of affairs, as country clubs go, but the clay courts were fine for us to hit some balls. Even so, Amy dressed in white shorts and white sports shirt, while I settled for grey yoga pants and a red T-shirt. On the way home, Amy delved into her shoulder bag. I noticed she was rolling a joint.

“Amy! This car is a convertible and folks can see what you’re doing!”

“So? Jess, I’ve done this hundreds of times back home and never had a problem.”

“You’re not back home now, Amy! Things are different here.”

“Relax!” Amy finished making the joint and lit it. “Here.”

After taking a couple of drags herself, Amy offered it to me and I took in a small mouthful of the sweet-smelling smoke before handing it back to her.

“Keep it out of sight,” I told Amy. “Don’t let folks see.”

I’m sure Amy was about to argue at that point, but the sound of a siren cut her short. I checked the rear view mirror and Amy twisted round to see for herself the sheriff’s cruiser catching us up real fast. I pulled over. Amy threw the joint over the side of the car. The two deputies got out and the older guy came to the driver’s door, while the younger guy went the other side.

“Got your driver’s permit?” The older guy asked me, and I pulled it out of the glove box.

“Jess Andrews?” the younger cop asked.

I took another look at him.

“Billy Wainwright?”

Billy had been in his final year at high school when I was just starting.

“Hi Jess. How’re you doing? Who is this young lady?”

“This is my cousin. Amy Reynolds. She’s from the north.”

“Hi Amy. Welcome to the south.”

“Here’s your driver permit back,” the older officer said. I saw from his name badge he was Sergeant Dennis Bridgeman. “Billy, would you take a walk back and get that joint this young lady just threw out of the car?”

“On it, Serge.”

“While we’re waiting, I need you two girls to step out of the car and stand by the trunk.”

Amy and I both got out and went to the rear of my car.

“Both of you, place your hands flat on the trunk, ladies.”

Amy and I both complied, but when this Sergeant Bridgeman started patting me down, Amy jumped up and started protesting.

“Hey! You can’t do that! We’re women! You need a female officer to do that.”

“Honey, do you see a female officer here?”

“No, so you need to get one.”

“Amy,” I said. “We could both be standing here for the rest of the day, waiting on a female officer. Just let him do it.”

Now, since I was wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt, and Amy just had on white shorts and a white sports shirt, it must have been mighty obvious neither of us were carrying anything concealed. I had no illusions that getting patted down was more for the sergeant’s pleasure than any police measure.

After Amy glared at me for some time, she reluctantly put her hands back on the trunk and closed her eyes while the sergeant patted her down. Did it really help not seeing what he was doing? Billy Wainwright returned at that point and showed the sergeant the joint and a small bag of cannabis that Amy had thrown out of the car.

“Okay, ladies,” Sergeant Bridgeman turned back to Amy and me. “You’re both under arrest for possession of an illegal substance. Place your hands behind your backs.”

Once the cuffs were on, Amy and I were put into the back seat of the police car. Sergeant Bridgeman drove us to the Sheriff’s office, while Billy drove my car. We were taken to the custody area, signed in and then taken to a small back office where our handcuffs were taken off by Billy Wainwright. He offered us coffee. We both accepted, and he went off to fetch it. Amy and I sat either side of a small table that sat against a side wall.

“My mom is going to kill me!” Amy said when we were alone.

“My pa might have something more painful in mind,” I muttered back.

“What’s the fine going to be?” Amy asked.

I shrugged. “Fines ain’t popular too much, on account folks aren’t that well off around here. I’m thinking a spell in jail.”

“Jail? For a tiny amount of weed? Surely not. Just what sort of a place is this?”

“I guess it’s the kind of place where they don’t like their kids breaking the law.”

“So what kind of a sentence would we get?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Three months, maybe? Six months? Something like that.”

“Are you serious? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“They’d lock two seventeen-year-olds up for months?”

“I reckon so.”

Well, Amy bickered on about how hard done by we were for such a little amount of cannabis, carefully avoiding the fact that it was all her fault. I began to wonder just how long Billy could take making coffee when the door opened and in he came.

“Thanks, Billy,” I said as I took one of the cups of coffee.

“For god’s sake, how much longer are you going to keep us hanging around,” Amy said angrily. “Can’t you just charge us and let us go?”

I looked at her. She clearly didn’t think a little remorse might just help our case. “Actually,” Billy began. “It’s Amy, isn’t it? Actually, Amy, the sergeant and me, we’ve just been talking over our options here, and what would be best for you two young ladies.”

“Look, you’re either going to charge us or you’re not. How complicated can it be?”

“Is that how they do things up in the north? Down south, we like to be a little more accommodating. Now, Jess, I’m guessing your pa ain’t going to be too pleased with what you’ve been up to today.”

“He surely isn’t.”

“So, if he has to come collect you, you might be a mite uncomfortable sitting at the dinner table tonight, huh?”

I blushed deep crimson. I mean, there wasn’t a mirror in the room, but I could just feel it in my face. Amy looked blank.

“You’re probably right there, Billy,” I finally manage to answer.

“Now that would be just fine,” Billy continued. “But then we have to consider this young lady, your cousin I believe?”

I nod.

“I’m thinking your pa might be okay with dealing with you, but dealing with your cousin could be more tricky, huh?”

I saw Billy’s point straight away. My pa wouldn’t hesitate to tan my behind, but he’d be a heap more doubtful about doing the same with Amy. He’d probably want to speak with his sister, Amy’s mom, and what would he do if she didn’t agree?

“What are you two talking about?” Amy snapped.

We both ignored her. I nodded slowly.

“It could be a problem,” I agreed.

“The sergeant and I were thinking, maybe we could deal with the two of you ourselves. That way, you would both get the same, and your folks need be none the wiser. We could explain you girls presence here by saying we were helping you all out with a minor car problem. Then you can get off home and the matter’s done and dusted. What do you say?”

“Would someone tell me what’s going on here?” Amy persisted.

Again, we both ignored her.

“Maybe I should leave you two girls alone so you can discuss, huh?”

“Yes please, Billy.”

Billy collected our now empty coffee cups and left the room.

“Discuss what?” Amy demanded. “What in hell’s name have you two been talking about?”

“Basically, these guys, the sergeant and Billy, would be happy not to charge us as long as we took what you might call a less formal punishment.”

“Less formal?”

“One idea might be for my pa to tan both our behinds. It’s just that pa might feel the need to ask your mom’s permission. Do you think she’d agree?”

“Tan our behinds? Like, spank us? Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not kidding, Amy. Hell, pa is likely to do that to me anyway if I do get charged. The other idea is that we both agree to get our spankings from Billy and the sergeant, thus keeping it all nice and private.”

“And our parents don’t get to know?”

“That’s the idea. Hell, if I’m getting a spanking, I don’t care who does it. And my parents wouldn’t be able to do anything else, like take my car away, ground me, and stuff, if they didn’t know what happened.”

“Yes, but Jess, being treated like young kids? That’s kind of gross. Mind you, that Billy, well, he’s kind of nice. I wouldn’t mind lying across his lap.”

“Amy, don’t go thinking a few hand pats across the seat of your shorts. It would be a real hard spanking, and it would hurt. Seriously.”

“Jess, I got you into this mess, and I’m sorry. Okay?”

“True, but I did take a drag, and I didn’t stop you. I should have done. But arguing about who is to blame doesn’t help us now.”

“What I’m saying, Jess, is that if you think our best option is to let these guys spank us, then I’ll go along with it.”

“You wouldn’t prefer my pa to do it? If your mom agrees, that is.”

“My mom is not likely to consent to that! No, it’s best she simply doesn’t know, especially about my having weed.”

“So are we decided?”

“I guess so.”

We sat quietly for several minutes, both of us, I guess, preoccupied with what would happen to us once Billy and the sergeant learned of our decision. Then, Billy returned.

“So, ladies, have you had enough time to discuss your options?”

“We’ll take the spankings,” I replied.

“From?”

“From you guys.”

Billy grinned broadly. He obviously liked the idea.

“This is for both of you?” A doubt had clearly entered his head, because he looked directly at Amy.

“Yes, both of us,” Amy responded.

“Good choice, ladies. I’ll let the sergeant know.”

“I guess our goose is well and truly cooked now,” I remarked.

“Yup.” Amy seemed deep in thought, probably wondering whether she’d done the right thing.

She didn’t have long to worry about it, because the door opened and Sergeant Bridgeman and Billy Wainwright came in. Amy and I both fixed our eyes on the wooden paddle the sergeant was holding. I’d been paddled once before in school, and it looked similar, maybe twenty inches long, four inches wide, and a half inch thick. The wood was pale, possibly hickory.

“Billy here tells me you both would like to take spankings to settle this unfortunate little matter. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer respectfully.

“Yes, sir,” Amy copies me. I never heard her call anyone ‘sir’ before. I see her eyes are still on the paddle the sergeant is holding.

“Now, I’ve got three daughters of my own,” Sergeant Bridgeman continued. “I presume you young ladies have no objection to me treating you the same as I would my own daughters?”

Amy and I both shrugged. We were still fixated on that wooden paddle the sergeant was holding. I guess we both accepted that was what was going to be applied to our backsides. What else did we need to know?

“Now, who would like to go first?”

Amy and I looked at each other. I gave a little kind of wave, suggesting she might like to get it over with, but she ignored my kind gesture.

“Looks like it’s going to be me,” I said, grimacing.

Now, Amy and I were both still seated either side of the small table. I stood up as soon it became clear I was going to get my spanking first. Amy remained seated.

“Now, I always require my daughters to wear either their pajama pants or just their underwear when I have to punish them,” Sergeant Bridgeman explained when we were standing face to face. His face was expressionless, although I immediately caught his drift.

Did either of us really think my thin yoga pants were going to make much difference to the spanking? Not wanting to antagonize a guy holding a paddle that he’s about to use to spank me, I began to peel down my yoga pants, letting them settle halfway down my thighs, and bent across the table without being asked.

Amy remained in her chair by the side of the table, which meant our faces were close together and I could see her horrified expression. I guess she hadn’t reckoned on getting spanked on our underwear, in my case brief black panties that amounted to not much more than a thong. I was effectively getting my spanking on my bare butt; I wondered what underwear she was wearing.

Moments later, I got my first spank, and it was a hard one, yet I think Amy squealed more than I did. She turned her head away, but couldn’t resist watching the second swat being applied. Those spanks hurt, much like my one and only school paddling, and as they continued I saw Amy jumping and twitching as much as I was. I began to wonder how she might cope when it was her turn across this little table.

After maybe six swats, I somehow became a little immune to the pain as the paddle continued to tan my backside. I just hoped the pain now would avoid trouble at home later. The sergeant hadn’t said how many swats he would be giving us, but it all stopped after I’d had perhaps ten.

“There you go, young lady,” I heard the sergeant say. “I reckon that’s justice served.”

I immediately got off the table and rubbed my sore backside, which seemed to amuse both the sergeant and Billy. Amy looked too, but she appeared more scared than entertained. I pulled my yoga pants up and carefully sat down on the chair opposite Amy’s, not the most comfortable move I’ve ever made. Amy, though, realized we were all now looking at her, and she knew why.

After appearing frozen to her chair, Amy suddenly stood up and moved round to the front of the table and started unfastening her white shorts. They got pushed down to her thighs and then she bent over the table. Her panties, in lacy pink, were only a mite less revealing than my thong, so she also was about to get a spanking on her mainly bare butt, which attracted plenty of attention from the sergeant and Billy.

“Okay,” the sergeant announced. “Here we go.” He quickly crashed the paddle across Amy’s backside.

I guess he didn’t want Amy to spend much time in position and fretting about how much it was going to hurt. She certainly jumped when it hit her, and she squealed a little, but not as much as when I got my first swat.

Being that Amy’s face and mine were again close to each other, I could see she had her eyes closed and was grimacing as she got each spank. I was amazed, though, that she was gritting her teeth and taking each swat with a heap more acceptance than I had been expecting. I kind of wish we’d been able to make eye contact, but she never opened her eyes the entire spanking.

Only when it had ended did Amy cautiously open her eyes and look around.

“That’s you done too, girl,” Sergeant Bridgeman confirmed.

Amy pulled her white shorts up, and even gave a wriggle of her hips as the sergeant and Billy stood watching.

They saw me looking at them looking at Amy’s rear end, and I guess that made them feel a mite embarrassed because the sergeant straight away said, “We’ll leave you ladies to sort yourselves out. When you’re ready to leave, come through to the front office and you can collect your car keys, Jess.”

When the door closed behind them, I looked at Amy.

“OMG! That was awesome!” she declared.

“Awesome?” I replied.

“Like that was my first spanking ever. Is my butt really bruised?” Amy undid her white shorts and pushed them down along with her brief panties.

“Yup, your ass is real red, and a mite blue on the peaks. I reckon it’ll be sore for a day or more.”

That seemed to almost please Amy, because then she explained, “I’ve read about the spankings they give down south and often wondered what it would be like. I guess I’ve found out the hard way, huh?”

“I guess you have.”

“May I see what your butt looks like?” Amy asked as she pulled up her underwear and shorts. “So I get an idea of what my ass looks like now?”

Frankly, I was a lot more interested in getting out of that place and back home where I could spend an hour lying face-down on my bed in self-pity, but to please Amy I did slip my yoga pants and panties down for her benefit.

“I see what you mean when you described my ass. Yes, that looks real sore.”

“Fine. Now can we get out of here?”

“Okay.”

Amy and I both checked our clothing was all neat and tidy before going out into the front office. Billy handed me the keys to my car and Amy and I went out into the heat of the late afternoon. We were both careful about how we sat on the front seats, but when we got going Amy and I both shrieked more in excitement than pain as we drove over bumps in the road.

When we arrived home, my mom said, “You’re late, girls. Anything wrong?”

“Just a bit of car trouble, mom,” I replied. “All sorted now.”

“Good to hear,” she answered, with a strange kind of knowing smile.

The End

© Carol Christensen 2026