Mary Ellen - A Star Set 'Aglow'
“Mary Ellen Walton was still sobbing as she finished doing all the breakfast dishes in the family kitchen. With four adults and seven children, there were quite a few of them to do, and this task normally took a considerable amount of time; however, with the fire still blazing in her tender fanny, Mary Ellen was taking even longer. Her mother, Olivia, had just finished spanking her bare bottom severely with a hairbrush, and the pain was still intense, as was the temperature back there. She was certain that she would never be able to sit comfortably again, and that her rump was a ripe, rosy red. Mary Ellen would surely do her chores before reading her movie magazines in the future, as she continued to rub her bottom, hoping to relieve the scalding pain she was having.
As she finished the last dish, Olivia stepped into the kitchen to begin the next stage of Mary Ellen’s punishment. She took a clean dishrag, got it soaking wet, then took a bar of soap and lathered it up really well. “All right, Mary Ellen, since you had such a foul mouth, I think you could stand some cleaning of it,” Olivia told her fourteen year old daughter as she walked towards her. “I believe your mouth needs to have some attention applied to it, so that you will think before you speak in the future. Little girls with smart mouths towards their mothers deserve some ‘cleansing’ attention, and I plan on giving you some.” Mary Ellen began sobbing again as she saw that soapy, lathered up washrag approaching her mouth, but she knew better than to try and run away; she sadly opened her mouth wide and waited for it to be inserted. Olivia pushed the rag deep into Mary Ellen’s mouth; this alone would have caused her to gag, but alas, for Mary Ellen, it was not alone. The lathery soapsuds completely filled her mouth, getting underneath her tongue, and into her throat. Though she had had her mouth soaped out several times in the past, as had all the Walton children, this was a horrible experience for Mary Ellen. She gagged and choked, but Olivia held the rag firmly inside, making sure the full effects of it were felt. Finally after a few moments, she removed it and allowed Mary Ellen to spit out the foul tasting solution; but she was not allowed to rinse out her mouth.
“Now, Mary Ellen, since you want so much to become an actress, you’re
going to have some experience writing and memorizing scripts the rest of the
afternoon,” Olivia ominously told her sobbing daughter. “Come sit
down at the kitchen table; we’re going to have some Biblical training,
little girl.” Mary Ellen, still gagging on the awful soap deep in her
throat, walked, somewhat unsteadily, over the picnic table in the dining room
and sat down tenderly on the hard wooden bench, which served as the family chairs.
Her bottom, still aflame, generated horrible waves of agony through her body,
as its tender surface made contact with the unforgiving wood, and her thin dress
offered little protection against the stray splinter.
Olivia had brought her Bible with her to the kitchen, and she put it, along with a pad and pencil, down in front of Mary Ellen. “Now, young lady, you are going to write me a play, based on the Good Book. I want one verse from each book of the Bible written down on this paper, Mary Ellen; that’s sixty-six in all. And I do NOT want any short verses such as ‘Jesus wept.’ After you have written your ‘play’, you will then begin to memorize it. You have the next three hours to complete your writing, little girl; and you will be performing this play tomorrow afternoon for the entire family after church, from memory, unless you NEVER want to sit down again. Now get busy!”
Mary Ellen looked up longingly at her mother, still too much in pain to speak, but her eyes clearly were begging that this sentence be lifted. The fire in her bottom, and the gagging sensation in her throat, were matched only by the dread of all the reading and writing she was about to have to do. This was certainly NOT the way she wanted to spend a wonderful autumn Saturday afternoon. Her mother’s steely glare simply caused her to wilt, and turn to the Bible, beginning her search for verses. Why hadn’t she just done the breakfast dishes when told, and for heaven’s sake, why had she sassed her mother so badly, she bitterly thought. At least the rest of the family had gone out for the day, and wouldn’t be returning till late in the evening; they wouldn’t witness her ultimate “starring role” that she was now playing.
Later that afternoon, after the three hours had passed, Olivia came back into the kitchen, to check Mary Ellen’s “play”, and to see the progress that had been made. She carried with her a limber switch, freshly picked from the pear tree in the Walton’s back yard, about 3-4 feet long. Mary Ellen looked up in horror when she saw this implement of pain, and fresh tears formed in her eye. “All right, Mary Ellen, let me see what you have written down,” Olivia told her. Trembling, unable to speak, and wide eyed with fright, Mary Ellen handed her mother several sheets of paper. Olivia looked over the papers carefully, smiled grimly and set them down on the table, alongside the switch. “I see you have managed to come with forty-six verses, Mary Ellen. And how many were you supposed to have, young lady?” Olivia’s voice had a firm edge to it, as she fixed her glare on the quivering girl sitting in front of her.
“I…I..I was supposed to do s…siix…sixty-s..six all
together, M..mo..mmomma,” Mary Ellen managed to stammer out in a halting,
choking voice. “I…I..I’mm so..sooorry, I… I dd…dii.ddidn’t
get a..all of them finished. I r..rreaaallly t..ttriieedd, Moommaa.” Mary
Ellen was practically shaking, as the tears began to run down her face. “Pll..Pllease
d…d…doonn’t punish me more, Momma. I…I’vveee learrrned
“No, Mary Ellen, I am not sure you have learned your lesson,” Olivia told her sore and frightened daughter. “I think that you need some reinforcement in learning to control your smart mouth, and in doing your chores on time. I’m deeply disappointed in you, young lady, and intend to make sure you have a very painful reminder of this for quite a long time. Your bottom, your mouth and now your hand have felt the pain of paying for your attitude this morning; now it’s time for your legs to feel that. Stand up, and pull your dress up, Mary Ellen; then bend over the table.”
Slowly, with a good deal of effort and fear, Mary Ellen stood up, and followed her mother’s directions. She gathered her skirt up to around her waist, exposing all of her legs and her panty-clad bottom; Olivia noticed it was still glowing a bright, warm red underneath the panties from the earlier hairbrush spanking she had given it. There was little wonder that Mary Ellen was still sobbing with pain. Olivia picked the switch up, and stood off to the side, as Mary Ellen tearfully assumed the position of bending down with her elbows on the kitchen table, while holding her skirt up out of the way.
“All right, Mary Ellen; your legs have earned twenty cuts with this switch, one for each verse you did NOT write. And I intend to make sure you feel each and every one of them, young lady.” Olivia lifted the switch into the air, and swished it forward, landing across Mary Ellen’s tender thighs; as she lifted the switch back up into the air, a red streak appeared across the damaged flesh. That happened nineteen more times; that switch landing across Mary Ellen’s bare thighs and calves, leaving angry red welts, which crisscrossed each other. Where these cuts intersected each other, and there were several places, the skin was broken and drops of blood began oozing out. Indeed, Mary Ellen’s legs looked more like a distorted barbeque grill than the cute teenage appendages they were.
Mary Ellen had thought the spanking she experienced earlier in the day was painful; and it was, compared to not having had one at all, very painful as a matter of fact. But even that horrible hairbrush bottom blistering paled in comparison to this switching. Mary Ellen was beside herself with pain, and was crying very loudly indeed. Her bottom was still blazing, but the fresh pain in her legs overwhelmed even that. Those cuts on her bare, sensitive flesh really burned down deep into her legs, and she knew that her legs would be marked for many, many days to come. When her mother finished the switching, Mary Ellen collapsed onto the kitchen table, unable to withstand the terrible pain any longer.
Olivia looked down on her beaten, blazing, blistered daughter; she again reminded
her about presenting her ‘play’ from memory for the entire family
tomorrow, then told her she could go on to bed now. Olivia would bring her supper
to her later that evening; she felt Mary Ellen had had enough of the kitchen
table to last her for awhile. Yes, Olivia thought to herself; it would certainly
be a long, long time before Mary Ellen wanted to be the “star” in
a movie again; her debut today had certainly been a glowing one, that’s
for sure. And most likely, Mary Ellen would not long for the glamor of Hollywood,
compared to the plainness of Walton’s Mountain, any time in the near future.