It’s April Fools Day and so a little tomfoolery is in order. This is a silly story by another guest author (with some editing help from me). Problem is, I have no idea who the author is or even where I found this story. As always, if the author will contact me I will give him full attribution.
ELLIE MAY GOES TO THE WOODSHED
“Jed,” Granny started to say, hobbling into the kitchen from the cement pond, “them two young’ns are gettin’ out of hand again.”
“Now Granny,” Jed Clampett answered as he went on with his whittling, trying to calm his mother-in-law down, “Jethro and Ellie are just high spirited, and they don’t have a lot to do round these parts.”
“That’s fer sure,” she answered testily. “There ain’t no shootin’, nor any fishin’ –specially out of that so-called cement pond out back — and the chores keepin’ up this thirty room mansion don’t even keep me busy for a mornin’. But that don’t mean we gotta put up with the kind of sass they’ve been givin’ me!”
Clampett turned to her, looking more serious, and stopped cutting. “What do you mean?”
“I found Jethro and Ellie eatin’ breakfast ahead of me this mornin’, when I got down to fix somethin’, and when I asked Ellie what it was she was munchin’ on, she looked at me all sassy-like and said, ‘Nuttin’ honey.’
“Where does she get off talkin’ to me that way?”
Clampett was surprised at this — his daughter was a wild one, a complete tomboy who collected too many critters, all strays, and could outrun and outfight and outshoot most any man or woman, but she was always respectful.
Fact was, as long as she was respectful, he let her pretty much do what she wanted. He liked critters too, like havin’ them around, though not underfoot, and with his $60 million, it was no problem feedin’ them or carin’ for them. But if she was startin’ to sass her Granny, he was goin’ to have to teach that girl a thing or two about manners.
“What did Jethro say?”
“The walking gizzard had his mouth so full he couldn’t say anything. But it’s Ellie that was sassin’ me.”
“Now Granny, I’ll talk to the girl,” he said, trying to calm her down. “One way or another, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Walking over to the kitchen door, he called out, “Oh, Ellie May! Come in here a minute.”
Ellie May Clampett appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, a squirrel from her menagerie perched comfortably on her shoulder and ol’ Duke the hound dog following her. She was a very lovely girl, even though she was eighteen and still not married, an old maid by hill standards — dressed in her tight blue jeans with a rope belt and a blouse that was near to bursting, her long, think, untamed blonde hair falling seductively around her shoulders, her eyes cheerful and wide open with eagerness. She stood there, smiling, rolling her hips slightly with her hands on the rear pockets of her jeans, happy to do what ever her Pa asked.
“Yes, Pa,” she answered, stepping into the room. Clampett’s serious expression bothered her, and she could see something was wrong.
“Ellie, this mornin’ you and Jethro was at breakfast and your Granny asked you a question.”
“Yes, Pa,” she said thoughtfully.
“Now what was you and Jethro eatin’?”
“Nut ‘n Honey,” she said calmly, surprised at the simple answer to the question, and began breathing easier.
Jed Clampett’s face, however, had begun turning red with anger. “I guess you was right, Granny. She needs a whuppin’, and she’s gonna get one.”
“Now yer talkin’,” Granny said, agitated. “I’ve been sayin’ this fer years.”
“Ellie, you and I are goin’ to the woodshed,” said Jed.
The smile left Ellie May’s face, replaced by a thoughtful frown, and unconsciously she took her hands from her rear pockets as a feeling of panic began spreading within her.
The girl knew what the woodshed meant, and what went on there. Granny had taken Jethro there a couple of times since moving from the hills — one time he couldn’t sit for two whole days. And then there was that Emeline Fetty, a girl from back home who’d tried to help steal some of her Pa’s money. Granny had taken her to the woodshed and taken a switch to her till she hollered the truth about her visit to anyone who would listen.
Her Pa had never pants-whupped her, except when she was a little girl and was too good at beatin’ up the boys back home — then he’d taken her out behind their one-room shack, put her up on his knee, bent her over and spanked her four times, hard, with his heavy, callused hand until she cried. Since then, he’d only punished her once, with a quick swat to her seat when she was wrasslin’ with Jethro. Now he was angry, though, and she was scared.
“But Pa . . .!” she started to say, and attempted to move over to the cabinet where the breakfast cereal was kept, so she could show him the box of Nut ‘n Honey she and Jethro had opened. Before she could, Jed Clampett had her by the wrist, turned her around, threw his arm around her waist, and was carrying her helplessly out the kitchen door while she kicked and struggled.
She was still hollering as he carried his daughter toward the woodshed that Mr. Drysdale had erected, at Clampett’s request, on the other side of the cement pond.
Just then, Jethro, Jed’s nephew, came lumbering in, attracted by the noise. “Granny, what’s going on?”
“Your cousin Ellie sassed me and your Pa once too often, and now she’s gonna get a whuppin’,” the old lady said jumping up and down in excitement and anger.
“You mean Uncle Jed’s whuppin’ Ellie?” he asked.
“That’s right boy.”
“Hot dog!” Jethro shouted, grabbing the hat off his head and throwing it in the air. “Granny, I’ll be right back,” he said, racing out the back door to follow after his uncle Jed and Ellie. Suddenly, he leaned back in and shouted, “Oh, Mr. Drysdale, Miss Jane, and that real purty Miss Johnson just came to the front door!”
He was out of sight again in a flash, running after the two of them.
“And you left company standin’ out there, you big clod!” she shouted, and turned to greet her guests.
Jed Clampett pushed open the door to the woodshed with his free hand and carried his daughter in, kicking and screaming like a little girl. By now she was sobbing a little as well. As he closed the door, he reached back and pulled the razor strop off it’s hook.
“But Pa . . .” she tried to protest, to no avail.
“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” he said, cutting her off as he sat down on an upturned bucket in the center of the floor.
“This is for sassin’ me.”
With that, he laid her across his lap, his left hand pressed into the small of her back to hold her still despite her kicking. He put the razor strop down with his right hand and picked up a smooth slat of wood lying on the floor, raised it high over his shoulder, and brought it down with a resounding smack across the tightened seat of her jeans.
The first swat sank in with a meaty impact, raising dust and jolting Ellie May. It stung a wide, long area hard, through her jeans, and spread out instantly across her skin, and she let out a cry. The second, made an even harder, fuller sounding smack lower down, raising tears.
“Pa . . .” she wailed as the sting of the wood smacking down on her rear spread down to her legs and up toward her back, burning at the center.
“This’ll teach you to sass your Pa,” Clampett said, as the slat smartly smacked the beautifully rounded globes of her denim-covered rear. She cried out as the hard wood made contact through the denim of her jeans, and the pain and humiliation burning through her round, delectable backside.
What neither Jed nor Ellie noticed during her spanking was a pair of eager eyes watching from behind one of the windows. Jethro was crouched down low, despite his height, and took in every hard smack that his uncle administered to his cousin. She’d been beating him up all of his life, and it was a special pleasure watching her get it for a change.
“Um — um,” he said, as though sampling his favorite food.
Jed Clampett raised the slat again and brought it down with all of his strength in a heavy, fat sounding spank that echoed off the walls. His daughter was crying hard now, and blubbering like a little girl instead of the mature tomboy she’d always made out to be. Clampett thought to himself, maybe there was something to what the Good Book said about ‘spare the rod and spoil the child.’
Pausing for a moment to change his grip, he pressed harder against her back to hold Ellie May still — her nether rotundities were shaking now, and he raised the wood one more time, as high as he could, and whipped his arm down, smacking hard just below the center of both cheeks with a loud crack. “Oww,” Ellie May yelped, as the impact forced her forward on his knee and made her spread her legs, widening her rear into an even better target.
Putting down the makeshift paddle, Clampett raised his bare hand and smacked both spread cheeks hard, one after the other.
That settled her hash for sassin’ him. But her punishment wasn’t over. Jed Clampett lifted Ellie May to her feet and led her over to a rail. “Now this is what you get for sassin’ Granny.”
She started crying all over again, completely forgetting she was a grown woman, eighteen years old, and hoisted herself over so she was bent with her upper torso hanging down the other side. Her jeans were once again pulled tight, and felt close to bursting, so swollen did her seat feel from the spanking she’d received with the cedar slat. She was burning down below, and bruised and humiliated and crying like a little girl, and her backside felt very big and vulnerable.
Jed Clampett picked up the razor strop where he’d dropped it, stretched it out to its full length, and swung it at her proffered, swollen hind end. Bent over as tightly as she was, after the paddling she’d just had, her backside was temptingly wide and round, and projected out at a perfect angle over the rail, encased in the tight, now faded and dusted denim of her blue jeans. Leather hit denim with a satisfying crack that echoed off the ceiling, and Ellie wailed even louder.
“Oh, Pa,” she cried.
Off to one side, Jethro couldn’t believe his good fortune, and watched wide-eyed as his cousin really got it. From where he was hiding, he could see the strop hit her at its best angle, indenting the tight denim and the skin beneath with each impact.
Clampett brought the strop down hard, from above, once on each cheek in rapid succession, in two whistling strokes that made meaty contact with her behind. She was kicking now, and scrambling with each impact so that her legs and backside were spread wide. Then two more fell from the sides, so that the strop crossed her cheeks at a right angle.
“Now get up,” he told her, helping her to her feet. Ellie May couldn’t stop crying, her hair was a mess and her shirt, now dirty and dangerously close to bursting, hung loosely from her waist where her bending had pulled it out. Her hands gingerly felt the two stinging, swelling objects of her punishment. “Your Granny will take care of you, but I don’t want to hear no more sassin’.”
Inside the Clampett mansion, Mr. Drysdale, Miss Jane, and Drysdale’s new deputy bank manager, Miss Johnson, could hear the smacks, crying and commotion in the distance. “Granny, what’s going on?” the elegant, greedy, mustachioed banker asked.
“Tain’t nothin’. Jed’s givin’ Ellie a whuppin’ for sassin’ me and him.”
“What?” exclaimed Miss Johnson. Miss Jane, an experienced businesswoman in her fifties, was surprised but calm over this, having known the Clampetts and their mountain ways for many years. But Miss Johnson looked astonished. “You don’t mean. . .”
“Jed’s dustin’ her jeans,” the old woman cackled, laughing.
Miss Jane blushed and said nothing, embarrassed for Ellie May. Miss Johnson looked outraged however, and Drysdale could see what was coming and pulled her over to one side. “Look, Ms. Johnson, I know all about the women’s movement, but these are mountain people and they have different ways. They’re also my biggest depositors, and I don’t want them upset!”
“I don’t care, Mr. Drysdale,” the young, attractive blonde said, perching her glasses low down to look him in the eye. “This is the 1960’s and no one can do that to a grown woman.”
She pushed away and Drysdale decided to stay out of it, fearing the loss of his biggest account if the Clampetts were offended. Just then, Jed re-entered the house, followed a few seconds later by a teary-eyed, miserable looking Ellie May, who didn’t walk with her usual bold strides. She went quietly up the stairway, her hands gently rubbing her throbbing, punished seat.
“I’ll help her settle down,” Granny said, calmed down considerably at the sight of her punished granddaughter, following her up the stairs. Miss Jane went after.
Jethro waited outside trying to calm down.
“Mr. Clampett,” Miss Johnson said, angrily, “You can’t just go around beating grown women.”
“If they sass their Granny and their Pa, we do,” he said, eyeing the young business woman with suspicion. He hadn’t known her long, but he didn’t take kindly to guests taking that kind of tone with him in his own house, even if they were doing him the favor of managing and taking care of his money.
“But it’s wrong,” Miss Johnson protested, losing her composure. “It’s brutal and it’s thick-headed, and it’s barbaric!”
“Now, Miss Johnson,” Jed said calmly, trying to keep from getting too riled, “What would you do if one of your young’ns sassed you? Wouldn’t even give a simple answer to a simple question?”
“Such as what?” the young banking executive asked, challenging him in a manner that he liked even less.
“Let me ask you, what did you have for breakfast?”
Miss Johnson paused for a moment, ran the question through her head, thought about what she’d eaten, and gave the simplest answer she could. “Nut ‘n Honey.”
Jed went wide-eyed. “Now Miss Johnson, you can act anyway you want at the bank, but you’re a guest in my house now, and I don’t cotton to anyone sassin’ me in my own house. An’ it seems to me your Pa never taught you no manners, neither.”
He paused, moving closer to her, glanced back where he’d just come from, and added, “Looks like I gotta make another trip out back,” he suddenly said, grabbing Miss Johnson’s wrist.
“Wait, what are you doing?” she protested loudly as he gathered her facing backward under one arm, as effortlessly as if she were a child. The once dignified woman banker began kicking her legs and shouting in desperation. “Mr. Drysdale, stop them! Mr. Drysdale! Mr. Drysdale!”
Drysdale said nothing, not willing to interfere with his most important depositor. Clampett carried her through the back door.
Jethro heard the new commotion and hid behind the wall adjoining the cement pond as his uncle carried the screaming, kicking young businesswoman into the woodshed. He saw Uncle Jed reach for the razor strop as he slammed the door behind him, knew what was coming, and quickly ran back to the window to watch.
Mr. Drysdale waited in the kitchen, and Granny came down, drawn by the noise. “What’s all the ruckus?” she asked.
“Mr. Clampett just took Ms. Johnson to the woodshed,” he explained, agitated and uncertain about what he should do. In thirty years of banking, this was the first time anything like this had happened.
“Well, that assistant of yours shoulda know’d better then to do whatever it was she done,” the old lady said, with a cackling laugh. “It’ll do her good.”
“You’re right, Granny,” Drysdale said, emphatically, having decided that the safest course for his bank would be to let Jed chastise his young assistant. As he passed by a cabinet with a door ajar, he saw two boxes of a cereal called “Nut ‘n Honey.”
Suddenly the banker raised his eyes heavenward but said nothing, shut the door, and followed Granny out by the cement pond.
The leather smacks were audible from inside the woodshed, as was Miss Johnson’s very emphatic shouting, which inevitably followed each new smack.
Off to the side, out of sight of both of them, Jethro watched through a window as Miss Johnson got her licks.
At first his Uncle Jed was going to give them across her skirt, but she kicked and shouted so hard, and said such nasty things, that he’d lifted the skirt of her conservative grey business suit up to her waist as he held her against the rail. Then he frowned and shook his head as he observed the sheer, high-cut black briefs she was wearing — the wrong kind of clothes for any decent girl, especially one who was handling his money.
“Your own Pa wouldn’t let you wear nothin’ like that,” he said, bending her over the rail as she continued shouting and struggling. He yanked the briefs down to her knees.
Lifting his heavy, lean but muscular arm, he brought the strop in a broad, hard swing that cut into both of her rear cheeks.
She howled in pain, much louder than Ellie had, as he punished the young woman banker for her sassiness outside and in. Her backside blotched a bright red with the first smack of the hard leather, and became a deeper cherry-toned shade as the strop fell in hard, orderly strokes. Even as she fought to retain some internal composure, she thought frantically. No one had ever hit her before and no one had ever dared to do what this man was doing to her now, baring and beating her fanny with a razor strop.
Her legs kicked, out of control as she lay helpless over the rail, the leather burning her bare backside with a vicious fire. She could feel the heat and her bottom throbbed as the sting penetrated deep inside. She couldn’t even begin to control her reactions – her legs flew all over the place, exposing parts of herself in ways that only a lover had ever seen.
Out at the window, Jethro got an eyeful that he hadn’t even dreamt of, ever, as Miss Johnson’s rear surged and widened and reddened, exposing everything between and around it.
“Ummm, umm,” he said, savoring every second of it, “Uncle Jed sure is tanning her hide, and this beats bein’ a double-naught spy,” referring to his most recent career aspiration.
Miss Johnson’s punishment ended after twenty hard licks with the razor strop. By this time her whole body was bucking, and not just to the blows, as she lay helpless over the rail, her rear redder than a ripe tomato from just above the tops of her thighs to the center of her seared buttocks, and she was weeping beyond any control.
“I’ll send Granny in,” Jed told her as he left, rehanging the strop on its hook.
The young woman banker didn’t move, but slowly settled down — she hurt all over, and fire was still lit in her seat, burning so badly she didn’t see how she would even be able to get dressed. She’d been punished severely, for something she didn’t do. And yet, in some ways, she wondered if she weren’t getting something she did deserve, for the way she acted in general, running roughshod over custom and decorum, browbeating the men and women around her, intimidating them with her intellect.
Maybe, she thought, the score was evening out — and yet that still didn’t justify the blistering her butt had just taken! She felt twice as big behind as she ever had, and like molten metal was poured on her seared, delicate flesh back there.
“Just hold still, honey,” said a voice from behind her. It was Granny, hobbling in, and she was wearing her doctor’s coat. “Jed sure gave it to you, but you had it comin’. I’ll put some of this on, and you’ll be able to sit in a day or two without much sting.”
The old woman scooped ointment out of a small bowl she carried and began rubbing it onto the woman banker’s blistered posterior, applying it gently onto the most reddened areas first. It felt good — as good as anything could feel right now. Slowly her hands worked around, soothing her rear, at least so that the fire wasn’t spreading anymore.
Gradually her sniffling subsided.
As her hands worked in, Granny glanced around and leaned over till she was near the woman’s ear. “And if it’ll make you feel any better,” she whispered, “You can watch me whup Jethro for him spyin’ on you and Ellie!”