Shadow Lane (www.shadowlane.com) has a cute little film called “Heirs to Misfortune,” about an inheritance from a rich but eccentric uncle, and the somewhat unusual conditions that are attached to it, since the heirs in question just happen to be a pair of spoiled, flighty, vain, club-hopping society girls. Here is a story based on this idea. My version incorporates the essential idea, but then spins it a different way. I’d like to use the actual stills or promo shots from the movie to illustrate this story, but I don’t have any and besides Shadow Lane does not like for others to use its photos, so I’ll have to improvise.
[Note: Shadow Lane has now authorized use of some actual stills. They are appended to the story below]
I’ve read the description and seen clips from the movie and it’s quite cute with a clever story line. Many Shadow Lane videos tend to be this way. SL has pretty consistently raised the bar when it comes to production values, and they often incorporate real plots with realistic dialog that goes well beyond the typical American spanking video. The ill fated “Dreams of Spanking,” Pandora’s UK company was similar in concept — make movies more like real movies.
I’ve told this story from the POV of a young female lawyer working for an older lawyer who represents the eccentric yet rich John Tipton Beresford. (BTW does that name ring any bells?)
Artwork by Paula Russell
The Beresford Heiresses
In the late 1970’s I landed a job as an associate to a sole practitioner named John Stallworth. Those were plum jobs in those days, and I was thrilled to get the position. Mr. Stallworth was a very handsome man in his early 40’s. I’ll have to say he had an effect on a girl–steel grey eyes, black hair with a little grey at the temples, square jaw. He probably worked out a lot because he was pretty buff. I always felt a few girlish flutters when in his company, and anyway, I kind of like older men. They are more mature, gentlemanly and have this air of absolute self confidence. That was especially true for John Stallworth. When he looked at you there was this intensity and I felt it right down to my…well, you know where. I didn’t think I interested him though. Oh, I’m cute enough, but no supermodel. I’m about 5’4″, reddish brown shoulder length hair. I like to think I’ve got a cute figure, but my derriere is too plump. That’s me, Erin Baynor from up around Lake Shasta. Anyway, back to John Stallworth.
John Stallworth had just one client and his name was J. Tipton Beresford. Beresford was a multi-millionaire many times over who ruled a vast commercial empire. Being Beresford’s personal lawyer was a full time job. In that capacity he was often, to put it bluntly, a fixer. He ran interference for Mr. Beresford in what were sometimes frankly delicate matters. I came to find out that Beresford had no wife and no children. He had two sisters, both divorced, who each had a daughter. This story is about them.
Their names were Heather Carlisle and Pixie Quinn and they were hellions. At the time of my internship, Heather was twenty and Pixie was nineteen. They were both living off of trust funds set up for their mothers by JT, as everyone called him. JT’s sisters were too preoccupied to properly parent Heather and Pixie who, as a result, just ran wild. Mr. Stallworth was forever pulling them out of one scrape or another, and I don’t know how many times he called me in the middle of the night to help him bail the girls out. Being a girl near their age, I was helpful in these situations, and since I was only a few years older, I could at least relate to them.
They’d create scenes in nightclubs, (you know the type), be drunk and disorderly, dance on the table, tease the men. We’d go to the nightclub, calm the manager down (Mr. Stallworth would slip him a few bills) and then take them home. Or they’d be the cause of some wild party complaint and we would go there and calm everyone down. John (I came to call him that–he wouldn’t stand on formalities) always reported these incidents to JT and sometimes I was on the other end of the conversation. If JT was upset, he didn’t show it. He would just listen and tell John to keep tabs on them. He seemed hesitant to crack down on them since he was, of course, their favorite uncle. Not having children of his own JT doted on them. John, I think, was less tolerant of them and their behavior. After all, he was the one who had to get up in the middle of the night and go out and find them.
As you might expect, Heather and Pixie were pretty hot girls. Heather was a tall brunette with an aristocratic bearing, great legs and a model’s figure. Pixie, as her name implied, was short, blonde and pretty with an innocent looking face that belied her impish nature. They were the quintessential party girls–always mixing it up with bad boys and that rich party crowd that had too much time and too much money. They would have given Paris Hilton a run for her money if they’d been of the same era.
In the course of all this activity after hours I developed a relationship with John Stallworth. No, we weren’t lovers, not that I would have minded that, if I can be honest here, but it was more than employer-employee. This was in an era before that kind of thing got so sensitive. He was a friend and a mentor and an easy familiarity grew between us that had potential to progress farther. I was certainly interested and I was always hoping that maybe he would be too. I’d be the flirt and he played the indulgent uncle. It was a little game that developed between us. There was this age difference, I know, and I think that’s what kept John from being more forward in those early days as we were getting to know each other. Anyway…
Now, one thing about JT—he was an eccentric. But he was no Howard Hughes recluse, no sir. He was always off in some corner of the world doing something. And it was usually something for other people. He built water projects in Africa, helped farmers in Brazil, transported medical teams to disaster areas. They guy was a real humanitarian, and that was a puzzle because with his family, including Heather and Pixie, he seemed content to allow them to be wastrels. They were supposedly in school but who knows?
John though, was getting fed up with these girls and told JT several times that he ought to do something. They were a liability. They might drive drunk and hurt somebody. They were going to bring down the family name, drag it through the mud, that kind of thing. I heard JT on the speaker phone say once that he’d think about it, but mostly he was indulgent. Having no other family, he really liked the girls in spite of all their waywardness, and he was reluctant to be a hard ass. I think things might have come to a head, though, the night when we had to go down to the police station to get the girls out of jail. There had been some altercation at a night club. Objects were thrown. They were using fake ID’s. Drinking under age. Disorderly conduct. Anyway, the next Monday John called JT and there was this long conversation behind closed doors.
Shortly after that JT announced that he was leaving for the Far East—in a sailboat, no less. Before he left he gave instructions regarding his estate which were to be conveyed to his sisters and Heather and Pixie if certain events transpired.
To everyone’s dismay, they did. The trigger event was a lack of communication for ninety days while at sea. When all this time went by without a word from JT or even a sighting, we were all very worried.
Finally as per JT’s instructions John called them all and told them that JT had made certain decisions regarding his estate which were to be shared with them before anyone else was told. So they were summoned to his office for a conference.
Well, they arrived at the appointed hour all dressed to the nines to hear what JT had decided, and they were all nervous. Was there a will or something? What was in it? Would JT continue the generous allowances? His sisters and Heather and Pixie wanted to know. Heather and Pixie were especially on edge because I think they realized that their behavior had caused some problems and maybe their uncle had finally had enough. Maybe he had cut them off.
We all gathered in John’s spacious office. There were JT’s two sisters, Heather, Pixie and me and John’s secretary, Karen, a middle aged woman who had been with John for many years. She sort of ruled the roost in the office and kept things running. She disapproved of the antics of Heather and Pixie and frequently was heard to tell John just what she would do if they’d been her girls. “The first thing is,” I heard her say once, “I don’t care that they are grown women, what they need is a good sound spanking on their pampered behinds.” John usually nodded in agreement with this sentiment.
John began by saying that he had been given instructions by JT before he left. He said that JT had told him to execute those instructions if there had been no word from him for 90 days. In that event, John explained, he was to play a tape that JT had left in an envelope. It was that tape that dictated the course of events over the next stunning hour and changed everyone’s life forever.
John put the tape in and it flickered to life. It was a head shot of JT. “Hello everybody,” he said. “If you are all in John Stallworth’s office watching this tape, I’m probably dead.”
We sat there in shocked silence. It was one thing to act according to some instructions in a document, but another to hear the man say that he was probably gone. We were now transfixed on the image on the screen.
“I need to settle my affairs and there are a lot of details that John will go over with you later, but I wanted to say certain things to you that are important. First to my sisters, Syl and Babs. I have fully funded your trust funds but you need not give your daughters any of this money as I am about to make special provision for them. In fact you are to cut them off completely and failure to do this will result in revocation of the trust.”
John’s sisters, Sylvia and Barbara, gasped at this. Heather and Pixie were stunned. “Cut off?” wailed Heather as she turned to Pixie, “What will we do?”
“Now to my nieces, Heather and Pixie. I love you like daughters, but you are both spoiled brats. I have indulged your escapades for years. You don’t go to school like you are supposed to do, and you don’t work; you party. You drink and play around and you are ruining our family name. What you girls need is some discipline. Whether you accept it or not is up to you. I have established a separate trust for each of you, but to receive those funds there are conditions.”
Pixie and Heather squirmed in their seats. They did not like what they were hearing one bit. Their mothers, though, were smiling. They had been unable or unwilling to control their offspring and JT was apparently going to do it for them.
“I have established a trust that will pay you an allowance. The trust will be administered by John Stallworth as trustee. John has been the one who has had to put up with your shenanigans the most. He is the one who gets out of bed at 3am and goes to the police station. He is the one who gets you home safely. He is the one who smooths things over after you’ve wrecked them. So he will be my agent in this matter and appropriately so. In order to receive funds from the trust you will, therefore, accept discipline at John’s hands. It will take place right here, right now and before you get a penny. If you refuse you get nothing.”
What did that mean, discipline at his hands? What would he do right now? Pixie and Heather were both curious and indignant. They almost missed the next part.
“John is authorized to give you both a good sound spanking on your bare behinds before you leave his office. It’s not much, but it’s a good start and it’s way overdue. You will sign a release absolving him of all liability. In addition he will monitor your future conduct until each of you graduates from college. He will monitor your grades and will apply the same correction as he may deem necessary if you fail to apply yourselves and stay out of trouble.”
Well, there was a stunned silence. Then they all spoke at once expressing outrage. “What? A spanking? It’s crazy! It can’t be legal,” shouted Heather. “I’m not going to let him s-spank me,” wailed Pixie. “It’s embarrassing and undignified and we’re grown women. How dare he!”
I was stunned too. A spanking? For two grown women? I looked at Pixie and Heather and thought if ever two brats deserved it…still, the thought was both titillating and horrifying at the same time. Looking at John’s stern demeanor, which did not change while the girls vented their outrage, caused a little thrill to ripple through me. What would it be like to be upended over his knee? I felt an involuntary shiver as I watched this little drama unfold.
John just let them carry on. Then one of them turned to me and said, “He can’t do this can he? I mean this isn’t legal is it?”
It was at this point, I either did the dumbest thing or the smartest thing I’d ever done. You decide. I said, “I’m not sure. You should maybe get your own lawyer. You can contest the provision, you know.” The girls looked interested, like maybe this was a way out.
I’d said it without even thinking. John Stallworth shot me a look that chilled me to the core. If looks could kill…I think he wanted to wring my neck. He turned to the girls. “You have to decide right now. My instructions are to dissolve the trust if you walk out of here.”
For a few minutes it was chaos. They continued to sputter about how insane this was and how he couldn’t do this, but then Heather’s mom spoke up. “I think you should grow up, Heather. And if this is what it takes, so be it. You should take your licking and mend your ways. Mr. Stallworth has put up with you girls long enough.” That quieted them down. To Pixie’s chagrin, her mom agreed. Janet was smiling broadly. The girls sensed that everyone was against them and they would have to gamble their inheritance to contest the provision.
They sat silently, first in disbelief, and then it sank in. “I suppose we don’t have any choice then,” said Heather, wringing her hands, feeling sorry for herself.
“Oh, but you do,” said John, standing, arms folded. “You can walk right out that door.” And he pointed to the door of his office.
Heather and Pixie looked at each other, stunned at the turn of events. They realized that the party was now over. Their faces bore looks of defeat and they told John alright, they’d sign this release and take the spanking or whatever. John had already prepared the releases and Janet had them come up and sign one by one while she notarized.
While all this was going on, John pulled out a sturdy armless chair and plopped it in the middle of the room. Both girls watched apprehensively as he very deliberately rolled up his right sleeve. Heather’s eyes were as big as saucers and Pixie unconsciously, I’m sure, put her hands behind her as if to protect her butt.
I’d never seen a spanking before. I hadn’t had one myself since I’d been a little kid, but being on the receiving end as a six year old and watching a fully grown woman go over a man’s knee for a paddling are two different things. I found it to be both terrifying and erotic. It turned out to be one of the sexiest, most knee knocking things I’d ever seen. John sat down and motioned for Heather to come over. “Stand right here to my right and pull up your skirt.” Heather looked around as if expecting the cavalry to arrive and save her, but it was plain that this was really going to happen.
“Oh my God this is so ridiculous,” she huffed. Getting her skirt up was easier said than done. Both girls were wearing skirts that were figure hugging tight and Heather had to wriggle while tugging to get it up over her hips. Eventually she did revealing a lush bottom clad in flimsy French cut panties set off by black stockings hooked to a garter belt.
John took her by the arm and pulled her across his knee, depositing her face down and bottoms up. He shifted her forward until her bottom was perched at the apex of his lap. He then inserted his fingers in the elastic of those little panties and Heather squealed, “No! No!” John ignored her and yanked the panties down to her knees, baring her shapely bottom. She turned ten shades of red and squirmed.
John had her pinned over his lap, bottom cocked up high, a perfect target. He was over six feet tall and solid. She was five foot eight and of course, much lighter. She tried to wriggle but it was no contest. He turned to Janet and said, “How many spanks make up a good sound one?” Janet said, “No set number—three or four minutes worth or until she changes her attitude.”
John patted her bottom as if testing its resiliency. Heather gasped at the intimate contact and tensed up. Then he raised his hand and brought it down with a loud splat! right on her left bottom cheek. It left a handprint. Heather squealed, “Oh…nooo!” Then he smacked her right cheek. Having got the feel for it, John proceeded to smack her wobbling bottom cheeks firmly in a steady rhythm, covering the expanse of her behind in a random pattern. Heather squalled like a baby, but John kept laying it on, spanking her bottom thoroughly at a tempo that did not waver. She shrieked that it stung, that he was killing her. She kicked her legs and wriggled. John ignored her and spanked steadily, a look of determination on his face. I could see the flesh of her cheeks quiver with repeated smacks from John’s palm. I could see the red handprints from the first few smacks merging into an overall red hue. We all watched breathlessly as John applied smack after smack without letup to Heather’s lush fanny as it bounced over his knees.
The scene hit me like an electric shock. The way he manhandled her, his absolute mastery. He would make her obey. He was the essential primitive male animal and it turned me tremendously on to watch him mete out this juvenile chastisement to this elegant and beautiful girl like she was a ten year old. I was squirming in my seat and my nipples were hard.
His palm rose and fell, rose and fell. Smack! Smack! Heather began to blub. “Ok…ok…I’m sorry, ok? Stop Stop!” Clearly it was hurting. Heather finally broke down in tears with a long “baaah…ohh…ahhh.” John gave her ten more hard slow ones and stopped.
“Ok, you can get up,” he said and lifted her up. She was sobbing, her mascara was running and her eyes were red. “Go stand in the corner and wait. Skirt up.” Heather hastened to obey. She was one spanked little girl. Her skin was white except the rounds of her buttocks which were like two bright red stoplights.
Pixie looked at John in horror as he crooked his finger, but like a captive who had lost the will to resist, she shuffled over to John. Pixie got her skirt up too, but it took some pulling and tugging. If anything, her bottom was plumper and rounder than Heather’s. John put her over his knee, yanked her panties down and wasted no time in delivering a stingingly hard spanking that made her plush cheeks dance and ripple. As John’s sturdy palm turned them a bright red, Pixie did a lively lap dance, kicking and squealing. For the next several minutes his hand slapped her bottom cheeks with loud ringing smacks that flattened each globe in turn before allowing it to spring back into its normally rounded shape. She wriggled and yelped piteously but the stinging tattoo continued unabated. When he was done she was crying too. Then he put her in the corner.
For a moment there was silence. Then from the office doorway there was the sound of clapping. Everybody turned and stared. “Bravo! Bravo! John you were magnificent. I applaud you.” Nobody could believe it, but there stood J. Tipton Beresford.
Heather and Pixie turned, wild eyed. They were so stunned they forgot that their panties were still at half mast. “You-you’re missing at sea,” sputtered Pixie. “You’re supposed to be dead,” squawked Heather.
“Yes, yes, well as you can see, I’m quite alive.” JT smiled and strode into the room.
The girls, having recovered their senses, hastened to readjust clothing. Pixie and Heather were aghast. “I don’t believe this! You mean that we got, I mean we let him…manhandle us for nothing?” Pixie shook her head in disbelief. “B-but the will, the trust fund thing we signed, what about…”
JT waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, that remains in full effect. You are both going to school, John will administer the trust, and if you get into any more trouble, or your grades are poor, well…” He looked meaningfully at John. The girls followed his gaze. John stood there like a block of granite, arms folded, smiling grimly. The shocked expressions told him they understood only too well.
“I have to say girls. You had it coming, and what’s more there are going to be some changes made around here.” JT rubbed his hands together. The girls were still in shock.
“Well, that’s that. Now that we’re done, I’m hungry. How about lunch? My treat.” Heather and Pixie practically choked in disbelief. Just like that they were going to lunch? After that? They both started to say something, but a sharp glance from John had them wisely choosing to be silent. With wide smiles John’s sisters each took an arm of a respective daughter and escorted them out.
JT turned to John. “Are you coming?”
John said, “In a bit. Erin and I have something to discuss.”
JT gave John a quizzical look then said, “Sure. Ok, you know where we’ll be—at the club.”
John nodded in assent and everyone else trooped out. Janet shut the door behind her. We were alone. John gave me a long hard look that made me squirm. I could see he was angry. Since I’d blurted out that answer to Heather’s question, he’d ignored me. Now I had his full attention.
“Your sole duty is to your client. In this case your client is J. Tipton Beresford. You don’t give advice to someone on the other side of a transaction, even if to you the transaction seems bizarre.”
I know, I know, I was thinking. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I didn’t say anything, I just nodded my head.
“JT was trying to do something for those girls and you almost screwed the whole thing up. If they’d taken your suggestion it would have unraveled. You did understand this?”
“Yes, I mean, no, I mean I’m really sorry— I wasn’t thinking and I….”
“Erin, we have a good relationship. You’re really bright and hard working and you’ll make a good lawyer someday but this…” He shook his head. He was thinking, I’m sure, that he’d have to let me go. JT probably saw this act of disloyalty on my part and might insist on it himself.
With absolute clarity I saw the one gambit that made sense to me—one that might work to let me keep my position. John was still seated in the chair. I rose and walked very purposefully over to his right side. Before he could say anything I raised my skirt to my waist and plopped myself face down across his lap. Then I looked back over my shoulder. “Please, John, this seems appropriate— you should punish me just like Heather and Pixie. I almost made a mess of things, but I’d rather be punished than fired.”
“Are you serious? You’d rather take this treatment and stay?” said John. He seemed a bit bemused now at my bold action.
“Yes, I would,” I said, and I raised my hips slightly. “Spankings are much more effective on the bare behind, I’m told.” I put a little cheekiness into it hoping he’d take the bait. He did and the next thing I felt were his fingers in the elastic of my panties. You know, I actually breathed a sigh of relief as he peeled my panties down to bare my bottom. We had a deal.
My relief was short lived. John made me give him my right hand and he gripped it pining it in the small of my back. His hand resting intimately on my bottom made me swoon. I was already aroused, having watched his mastery of Heather and Pixie and I squirmed, unconsciously rubbing girl parts together like a bitch in heat. I heard him say, “Remember, Erin, you asked for this.” He patted my bottom a few times and then smack! his palm landed. Smack! Smack! It tingled. At first it was a light stinging sensation and it just jacked up the desire. But then John settled into a steady tempo of hard spanks that landed relentlessly every second or so. It was then I found out why spankings are such effective tools of behavior modification.
It stung! Yeow, did it ever! I had never felt anything so intensely hot and it just kept on coming. I know I must have been a sight, wiggling and squirming. I couldn’t help it. His hand kept smacking my bottom over and over with no letup. I gasped. I wriggled shamelessly. Still the crack! of his palm impacted my behind with the steadiness of a metronome. I was soon lost in a haze of hot stinging pain in my fanny competing with womanly arousal. I started to sob uncontrollably. It wasn’t necessarily pain, it was emotion overwhelming me. John didn’t say anything. I think he knew he didn’t have to, but he also knew this was no time for half measures. He wanted to imprint in my brain the seriousness of my faux pas. It got imprinted in my brain all right—by way of one smarting bare bottom.
I don’t know how long he spanked or how many he gave me, but my fanny was blazing. Eventually he finished with a series of a dozen hard deliberate spanks that had me yelping. Then he righted me on my feet. I was gulping, stifling back sobs, and tears were running down my cheeks. John gave me a long hug and told me to go in the bathroom and make myself presentable. We would be joining JT at the club.
We got there several minutes later, and I think everyone noticed that I sat down rather gingerly. JT shot a raised eyebrow glance at John who caught it and nodded. JT half smiled—he’d guessed what had happened. It was then that I knew I was ok. I guess he reasoned that if the spanking treatment could cure naughty behavior in wayward nieces, it could also work on an impetuous smart-ass baby associate.
Well that turned the tide for the young heiresses, and it is also probably the reason that I eventually became Mrs. John Stallworth. John took me home that evening and one thing led to another. Our relationship entered a new phase after that. Yes, it had been a set-up from the beginning, but I hadn’t known that. It had been put together by John, JT, and Janet, especially Janet. She had been the one to suggest that a humbling spanking delivered in the presence of their mothers by an alpha male would have a salutary effect on their behavior. Well, she was right and it wasn’t the only time the girls had to answer to John. I can further add that behavior modification isn’t the only effect that it has on a girl, as I was to learn over the course of our courtship and marriage. But that, as they say, is another story.
Pics from the actual video courtesy of Shadow Lane: