If you would like to know how Rosie and Dr. Ponsonby met, check out the story here: https://peachfiction.wordpress.com/2012/10/26/rosies-birthday-treat/. Another story on these two is here: https://peachfiction.wordpress.com/2016/10/28/alternative-medicine/
It was scribbled in bold black ink on the wall calendar: Week 9 of lockdown in her state. Rosie had just finished face time with her Top, Dr. Ponsonby, aka Dr. POP. It was always a highlight of her day to talk to Dr. P, albeit only virtually, during these trying times. They would exchange information on their favorite Netflix shows, LGBT books, free streaming concerts and the like, and lately, even recipes for dishes, breads, and pastries. All the chitchat helped distract them both from this surreal, dire situation unfolding in the country and the world.
Thinking back, Rosie Young firmly believed that the somewhat dramatic meeting with Dr. P at that spanking party a few years prior and subsequently becoming her Brat was absolutely the best event that had ever happened to her. Over the years, her attachment to her Top grew stronger and their bond tighter. She felt she’d been thriving ever since, in every way possible.
Though the situation in their city was not as grave as say, New York or the Midwest, the social distancing order was issued by the authorities and enforced by stiff penalties. Rosie and Dr. P both adhered to the safety guidelines and were vigilant about shelter-at-home recommendation. They did regular face time, but the hardest part for Rosie was that their bi-weekly maintenance session was gone. She missed it terribly. “Gone with the wind,” Rosie chanted with a dramatic gesture of sadness as she stood on her balcony, taking a break from work.
Most days Rosie was doing fine. She worked online full time, and in her extra two-hour spare time saved from commuting, she had plenty to do. Other than her favorite shows and readings, she took up sewing. Her grandma’s old Singer proved to be very useful as Rosie started making cloth face shields after seeing a FB post. Apparently, the local health workers needed homemade masks to put over their regular surgical ones. Rosie felt proud of herself for making a tiny contribution to the fight against COVID-19. So far she had made at least two dozens and dropped them off at the local health clinic. One day she found some old fabrics with pictures of children’s kitchen toys. She carefully cut out a couple pieces with little wooden spoons on the cloth and made two face covers for Dr. P. After she dropped them off in Dr. P’s mailbox, Rosie giggled in the car all the way back, imagining Dr. P’s reaction when she saw them.
Some days were tougher though. Too much doomscrolling made her feel irritable and weepy. And not having her TTWD maintenance routine was making things worse. This was an unusual circumstance, Rosie reminded herself on those days. Besides, Rosie Young was a mature adult with a responsible job, was healthy, and lived a productive life, she just needed to will herself to be strong and brave, and wait out this terrible period. However, she yearned for the over-the-knee position staring at the patterned carpet in Dr. P’s living room, the warmth of her Top’s hand on her bottom, and the happy rhythmic sound of stinging smacks, POP POP POP. She would give anything to be able to experience Dr. P’s loving care in administering a spanking, the care she took in choosing an implement, understanding Rosie’s body language, and especially the tender after care she offered. Rosie knew the hiatus was temporary, fingers crossed, but the yearning was so strong that sometimes she became restless and aimless. In the meantime, parallel to feeling sad, she also felt a tad embarrassed for being so needy and not tough enough.
Once, when the longing got ever so overwhelming, she blurted it out during their face time that perhaps it would not be too bad if they met for maintenance. “Let’s face it, Dr. P,” she had argued, “you and I are both healthy, and we’ve been staying home mostly, so the odds ….” But before she finished her sentence, Dr. P uttered a resounding “NO, I don’t think so, Missy,” accompanied by a firmly furrowed brow. However, Dr. P did bring up an alternative for Rosie to consider. How about virtual sessions? But Rosie vetoed it right away because she did not fancy spanking herself. “But I’ll give you detailed directions,” Dr. P gently coaxed, “it would be just like I’m right there, spanking you.” Rosie would not be persuaded though. “I know other people self spank and that’s fine, but me? Nah, it just doesn’t do anything for me!” So that was that. Rosie Young did not do self-spanking.
Sighing, Penelope Olive Ponsonby logged off her laptop after face time and stood up from her desk. These were terrible times for everyone. She tried her best to convert all her classes online, learning the technology along the way. Students needed a lot of support during the transition and Dr. P had been extremely patient and compassionate with her students. Off work, she did long overdue chores around the house like changing the tires on her bike and painting the deck. But it was getting harder to concentrate because her thoughts often drifted to her brat Rosie, and how she could better support her needs during this devastating social distancing period.
Thinking back of how they met, Dr. P chuckled. After that fun meeting at the spanking party, the professor and the student grew to know each other well. After Rosie finished her class, they officially started a Top/bottom TTWD relationship. As things progressed the two women had developed a strong bond with each other. The professor had grown to be truly fond of her former student. Tucking at her heart was how the brat lived with authenticity, and she really appreciated Rosie’s good heart, playfulness and perkiness, and her independent streak with a hint of vulnerability that popped up now and then. Right now, she knew Rosie was trying very hard to deal with not having their bi-weekly sessions during this difficult time. As an experienced Top, she was fully aware how important maintenance spankings could be in a brat’s routine under the normal circumstances, let alone the current situation.
During their face time today, her brat put on a brave face, but Dr. P was observant and noticed that Rosie’s eyes were not sparkling as they usually were, which meant that her brat was feeling out of sorts. “She really can do with a bottom-warming to lift her spirits,” the Top quipped to herself. Besides, the Top’s palm was also starting to get itchy for some slapping action. It had been nine weeks since their last maintenance session. “I’m so out of practice,” lamented the Top. How much longer before they could get back to the normal routine?
With a heavy heart, Dr. Ponsonby stepped out into her small garden and was immediately embraced by the roses in full bloom: a palette of red, pink, and fuchsia. The output this spring and early summer was truly extraordinary. Dr. P felt her spirits lifted somewhat by being outdoors, and the colors and fragrant scent of the roses mixed with the earthy freshness from next door neighbor’s neatly cut grass put her in a relaxed state, one she hadn’t experienced for a while. Despite what’s going on in the world, her little garden offered a quiet oasis, a place of solace. I must remember to pick some red roses and drop them off outside Rosie’s door, Dr. P said to herself. If taken good care of, these flowers could easily keep for a week or two in a vase. It might brighten Rosie’s day. The thought put a smile on the Top’s face. It was also to thank Rosie for the homemade face masks, yes, the ones with pictures of little wooden spoons on them. The Top chuckled affectionately.
As she was tending to the roses, a delivery truck pulled up to her driveway and the driver left a large box outside her garage door. Dr. P waved at the young driver as he backed out and drove away. Oh good, the new curtain and fixture had arrived. Lately, her two cats, Lady and Nico, had been extremely boisterous, tearing up the place while chasing each other. “Maybe they are thrilled that I’m home all day,” Dr. P reflected. “Or maybe exactly the opposite,” she snorted wryly. Anyway, one victim of the cats’ acting up was the curtain in the living room. It was pulled down, the thin material torn apart in several spots and the curtain fixture bent.
That evening, Dr. Ponsonby opened the box. The light yellow color of the new curtain offered a calm feeling, and she really liked the silky, smooth texture of the material, perfect for the summer. And in the second plastic bag, a silver colored adjustable curtain rod was packed snugly. Staring at her purchase, the Top grew quiet as her thoughts started to drift to something entirely different.
After she finished for the night, the new curtain was not up but Dr. P let out a satisfied chuckle and rewarded herself with a glass of her favorite Quarantini: a lemon honey martini.
On the following Saturday, Rosie found herself driving on an almost empty country road, her GPS showing her destination at five more miles up north. During their face time the previous day, Dr. Ponsonby told her to be at the Peachy Farm, owned by Dr. P’s former brat Carmen and her wife Raven. “Meet me at the parking pad and we can take a walk together around their property, 6 feet apart of course,” was how her Top put it.
The Peachy Farm was an impressive expanse of luscious farmland, with cow fields and chicken coops, nestled between a lake and a small forest. The air smelled of sweet fragrant pines, fresh and earthy. Juncos and blue jays and cardinals darted around chirping happily. In the distance a herd of cows mooed like choir practice.
It was a gorgeous sunny day. Both women wore t-shirts and shorts and of course donned face masks. With their sunglasses on, their faces were completely invisible, but Rosie did manage to giggle when she saw little toy spoons dancing around her Top’s face shield. Dr. P led them along a neat gravel trail. Though it was hard for them not being able to hug each other, they were very happy just to be out together, surrounded by nature.
Half way into the 2-mile trail, Dr. POP slowed her pace. “Let’s take a break, Rosie.”
“Already?” Rosie said briskly before quickly adding “Sure thing, Dr. P,” suppressing her urge to tease the Top about being out of shape.
Dr. P let out a little snort. She pointed at a big tree branch that was down in a clearing and walked toward it.
“Look, there’s a red ribbon tied to the tree,” Rosie pointed out.
“Yes,” Dr. P nodded, her eyes smiling. “I told Carmen to leave a mark for us.”
“I want you to go and bend yourself over the branch. Got a treat for ya today.” Removing her dark shades, Dr. P retrieved a plastic bag from her backpack and took the curtain rod out. She pulled and adjusted it to its full length.
Rosie also removed her shades, her eyes growing wide.
“This baby is six and half feet long,” Dr. P announced triumphantly, eyes twinkling.
“I-i-is this …?” Rosie stuttered.
“Yes!” The Top took out a leather paddle, the one Rosie was very familiar with from past encounters, and securely attached the handle to the end of the rod with big, fat clear tapes.
Transfixed, Rosie stood agape, a warm feeling washing over her as the brat realized what her Top was planning to do.
“Ok, this is an experiment, Rosie. I practiced in the garage a few times on a pillow and it seemed to work,” Dr. P flexed her wrist and parted her feet to position herself. “Please get yourself ready,” she instructed.
Rosie glanced around the clearing instinctively. A couple of cardinals, one orange and one grey, had come to rest on a branch nearby, curiously watching her and waiting. Blushing and giggling, Rosie lowered her upper body down and put her hands squarely on the sturdy branch.
“Leave your shorts on for now.”
Dr. POP held the rod with both hands, moving her feet to gain the best angle for the intended target. Once the aim was perfect, she swung her arms back and forth a couple times before whacking the leather paddle into Rosie’s bottom cheeks.
“Ouch” cried out Rosie. It was harder than she had anticipated.
“Oh, I’m sorry Rosie. Was it too hard?”
“No, it’s ok. I just didn’t expect it would work so … eh effectively.” Rosie rubbed her rear end.
Firmly gripping the rod, the Top swung again. Whap! a sharp whack landed on the meatiest part of Rosie’s bottom, causing another “ouch” from her.
Grinning, Dr. P felt relieved. This little creation of hers might just work wonders. Sure, the long rod wobbled a bit and she needed to think of a way to reinforce her grip. But that’s for later.
“Alright, time to pull down your shorts, kiddo.”
Rosie obliged. The leather paddle rained down blow after blow on her eager bottom. The whacks were sharp but Rosie the brat embraced them with her customary aplomb. The bottom cheeks jiggle with each spank.
“Please raise your bottom a bit more, Rosie,” Dr. P’s voice echoed in the clearing. The brat happily complied. The familiar stinging sensation brought such a relief to her that tears started to roll down her covered face. Rosie lay her head down on the branch, whimpering turning into guttural sobbing, the tension from the last nine months quietly dissipating from her body and soul.
Before long, Rosie realized the spanking had stopped. She turned around to see Dr. P rubbing her eyes, the silver rod lying on the ground, glistening in the sunlight.
Dr. POP so wished she could give her brat a big hug and hold her. Waving and blowing kisses at her, the Top knew that release was what Rosie had needed. Dr. POP was glad this little experiment had turned out pretty successful. Okay, there were a few minor technical issues to be fixed but the Top was confident this was a promising beginning.
After Rosie pulled her shorts back up and dried her eyes, Dr. P told her the story of how her inspiration came to be. Rosie cherished every word the Top relayed, how Dr. P’s eyes lit up when the curtain rod was unfolded, how she held it in her hand, swinging a few times and it felt light but sturdy, how Dr. P took a measuring tape out of the drawer, how many times she tried different tapes to secure the leather paddle handle onto the rod and finally decided on the industrial strength tape, and how she called her former brat and Carmen and Raven immediately offered their farm and even recommended a secluded spot, and voilà, here they were.
When they got back to the parking pad, the women found a basket sitting between their cars. Neatly arranged in it were two paper bags of a dozen fresh eggs each, two slices of peach pies wrapped separately, two bottles of home brewed beer, and a little jar with a note “For Rosie’s you-know-what. LOL” attached to it. “Ah, Arnica,” Dr. P noted wryly, “from Carmen the Brat of course.”
If happiness had a voice, it was Rosie singing along with the CD in the car. Her bottom was sore from contacting the hard seat but the smile on her face was the wildest since the beginning of the pandemic. Maybe Carmen and Raven would let them use the farm again, Rosie thought. Dr. POP did mention she was going to order another rod for her new curtain.
I’m so lucky to have Dr. Ponsonby in my life, Rosie reflected with gratitude. Feeling rejuvenated with new hope, she hit the gas pedal hard on the empty road. “Damned COVID-19, you’re not gonna stop me getting my bottom whacked,” giggled Rosie the Brat. Things would get better from today on, she was sure of it.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!