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So around two o'clock, like usual. Okay. See you then,bye."There was a moment of silence after she hung up. Still in her lap, I wasplucking courage for facing the reply to my next question."I don't suppose I can wear men's clothes for the occasion?" I askedfinally."Of course not," she replied.For a moment it seemed I could handle it. For a moment it seemed thatappearing before Lisa and Jenny in my new image was going to be not onlyan endurable but actually a pleasant experience. The moment soon ended andI cracked."Please, mom, I can't be seen like this," I begged."You should have thought of that before you started wearing my clothes inthe first place," she said.Although I didn't say anything she could easily guess what my worrieswere."Oh, Jenny will just love seeing you all dressed up like that," she teasedme.Silently, I tried to keep my composure. For a few minutes I seemed to bedoing fine, then I started crying softly. Mother gently pulled my headdown on her shoulders.Jenny was my. “Alright! That’s enough!” she shouted.I was amazed to see Mother slip her flat palm into Samantha’s elastic waistband and pull her leggings down to her ankles. I stirred, for a moment, while I gazed at Samantha’s sore beaten bottom. It was once a nice taut and pale butt that had been reduced to a sweaty and stinging red mess.With the tears rushing down her cheeks, I no longer saw the powerful, in-charge woman Samantha had always been. In this situation she was completely subservient to Mother’s demands. “Abigail! Fetch me the hairbrush,” Mother ordered.Oh no… the hairbrush. I dreaded the hairbrush. Now, over the years Mother had spanked us with different things, but it was mostly her hand that bore the brunt of the work. I had only gotten the hairbrush once and it was the type of sharp shocking pain I never wanted to receive again. This time she was going to apply it right to Samantha’s bare bottom.When I handed her the wooden veneer-backed brush, she only acknowledged me with a.
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