A Sleepover
May 20, 2010 by devlinoneill
Dev shook his head and tapped Poppy’s nose.
“I said ‘no,’ little girl. Nearly half a gallon of rum is plenty for eight girls for one evening.”
“I think you’ll find it is not, and you must be confused again.”
“You are confused if you think you can talk to me like that, young lady.” He scowled, and she bowed her head and gazed at a button low on his shirt. “You are not college girls anymore, any of you, and if you’re having wine with your meal that’s quite sufficient alcohol.”
“But it’s only two or three mojitos per girl the way CJ makes them. so can’t I get two bottles just in case we … no! Dev!”
He tossed her across his lap and flipped up her light cotton skirt.
“Don’t argue with me, missy.”
She twisted and wriggled against his iron grip round her waist, and squeaked when he pulled down her pink polka-dot panties.
“No, Dev, I don’t want a spanking and I didn’t do anything and you’re not being fair! You said we could talk about the sleepover and OW not so hard!”
Poppy wriggled and took quick, gaspy breaths while Dev’s hard hand collided again and again with her soft bottom.
“Young lady, you are arguing with me, you’re being petulant, and you’re not being reasonable.” His arm continued to rise and fall like a titanium trip-hammer while he spoke. “I said you could have a slumber party if you behave yourself and mind me, and you are not beginning well at all.”
“Ow ow ow, but I am behaving and minding! I just asked about the refreshments, that’s all, and that’s enough please! Please that is enough, Dev!”
“Are you ready to listen to me, little girl?”
“I am listening, I always listen, and I don’t need anymore please!”
His palm scorched the hot pink flesh another dozen times while Poppy grasped the sofa arm and tried to pull away from his grip, to no avail. She panted and hid her face in her hands when he stopped and squeezed her burning bottom.
“Has everyone RSVPed?”
“Yeah.” She sighed and snuggled into his neck when he turned her over and sat her on his lap. “Dev?”
“Hm?”
“Nobody has a bedtime at a sleepover.”
He cupped her chin and gazed into her eyes. “Do you want another spanking?”
“No! I’m just saying, it’s not natural! The whole point of a sleepover is to chat and not to go to sleep until silly o’clock and …”
She moaned when his lips covered hers and shut her up.
***
Quel, Season, Lisa, CJ, Gwen, Kristina and Larken arrived at the remote Idaho airfield on the ten-seat turboprop to which they all had transferred in Boise.
Dev’s representative, a tall scar-faced man with an oft-broken nose and very little to say, met and called them all by name, though he never gave his.
They threw their overnight bags into the back of a long Chevy passenger van, and the man drove just a few miles from the private landing strip to the summer residence.
Poppy, Dev and Michael greeted the girls by the hitching rail in front of the ranch house, and there was much giggling and chortling while Poppy showed the girls where they could toss their gear and freshen up.
She had turned the rec room by the pool into a dormitory for eight, with sheets, pillows and blankets stacked everywhere, and mattresses on the floor to augment the four long sofas already there.
The men disappeared into Dev’s study at the far end of the house, where Dev poured scotch for himself and his representative.
Michael paced back and forth until Dev sighed and told him to go ahead. He ran back to the rec room, grabbed Season and dragged her bodily away from her friends, and no one saw either of them until dinner.
CJ and Gwen helped Poppy serve the meal she prepared – roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and thick savory gravy, with broccoli, cauliflower and green peas, along with a rather nice oaky merlot from the Simi Valley.
Lisa and Larken were seated either side of Dev’s representative, and both found the man quite taciturn, unwilling even to tell them his name when asked directly.
“You know who I am,” he replied. “Pass the horseradish, would you?”
After pudding – a warm sticky toffee with cream or custard and a hot toffee drizzle – Dev stood and clapped his hands.
“Have fun, girls, but behave yourselves. Enjoy your pajama party, and the guys won’t bother you unless the fire alarms go off.”
Poppy kissed him, and then shooed her sisters in bratitude out the door, leaving the men to deal with the tidying up.
They did so in short order by cell-phoning Dev’s three ranch hands, Anita, Josefina, and Ulrich, to come and clear away the mess, after which the men again retired to Dev’s study and his whisky.
CJ grinned and mixed mojito after mojito behind the bar in the rec room until Poppy, clad in her silk pink and red polka dot pajamas, chased CJ off to put on her own jammies. CJ had brought a toasty long cotton nightgown in deep forest green, knowing how chilly high desert nights are, and she went to put it on.
Season, Minnesota girl that she is, luxuriated in the freedom of loose boxers and a sleeveless pullover of thin but luscious light blue satin while she sipped her powerful, CJ-brewed, rum-and-lime-and-mint-and-whatnot.
Kristina wore a silky red caftan with pictures of birds in flight, and Gwen had on, as a joke, the baby-doll pajamas her Uncle D gave her in volume three.
Quel had brought a cotton knee-length nighty with half-sleeves, white with blue and green sleeping teddy bears on it.
Lisa’s light cotton pyjama bottoms and white cotton top, felt a bit cool until after the first few sips of her mojito, and she leaned back into her chair and sighed with relaxation.
Larken wore a white cotton poet’s shirt, and sat on one of a dozen big throw pillows scattered around the carpet.
Rum sloshed ever more quickly from the 1.75 liter bottle, but even before it was empty a small bottle of lime vodka, and then a half-pint of sloe gin, and another of white crème de menthe all appeared from purses, and the party drove determinedly onward.
Gossip and chitchat burbled from every girlish throat, and the young women reveled in each other’s company long into the night.
“Okay fine,” CJ said at last. “You hinted at it, but are you telling me that dangerous looking guy is Cameron? I’m not that drunk.”
Poppy glanced at Season, and they shuddered.
“We would never tell you that, CJ,” Poppy offered. “Do you need more ice?”
Larken scoffed. “I know he gets away with a lot in his fiction, but do you really imagine he brought Cameron to life, Poppy?”
She took a deep breath and cleared her throat twice. “All I know is that when I was in England, and he couldn’t tuck me in at night because he was working, I flipping well went to bed and to sleep anyway because somebody was there making sure I did.”
Gwen snorted. “Yeah right.”
CJ shook her head and cringed a little. “Maybe we don’t want to underestimate the professor, guys. He’s got stuff up his sleeve like nobody knows.”
Season nodded, and looked at Poppy, who shrugged. “Michael won’t talk to me about him, but I’ve got a bad feeling about that guy.”
Quel shrugged. “Hey! They’re just Tops, whoever they are. What do you say, girls?”
They looked from one to the other, their drunken grins becoming wider and wider.
A loud beeper went off and the girls squealed and clutched at one another.
“What the heck was that?”
Poppy laughed. “CJ, you don’t have to say ‘heck.’ It’s okay to swear.”
“Nuh uh, not me, not in Dev’s house. But what is that?”
“Just our warning.” Poppy grumbled as she got up to turn off the clock radio. “Our fifteen-minute warning to bedtime.”
“No way!”
The irate complaints spread, increased, and continued amongst the girls, with numerous assertions that Tops ought to know better regarding party protocol, along with various indictments of specific Tops’ parentage, until finally Poppy and Season called for quiet.
“Okay, girls,” Poppy said. “We can take this lying down or not, and I say not.”
CJ stamped her foot. “Darn … damn right!”
Season nodded. “All right then, so here’s what we do.”
When Dev and Michael rapped at the rec room door, Poppy let them in. All the girls lay in their beds, and smilingly said goodnight along with their thanks for a wonderful evening. Michael kissed Season, and Dev kissed Poppy, and they made their goodnights.
By one o’clock in the morning, all Dev’s spanking implements along with every wooden spoon, plastic spatula, and other pervertable in the house lay at the bottom of the pool, tied with twine and weighted down if necessary with bottles full of desert sand.
Cactus owls hooted in the desert as the girls giggled and clambered softly back into the rec room, and then gasped when every light in the house clicked on at once.
Dev stood in the middle of the room, and Michael guarded the hallway door, both scowling, both with their fists firmly on their hips.
The scarred man pushed stragglers inside from the pool entrance, and then snapped the door shut behind him.
His and Dev’s and Michael’s glares lanced across the wide space like fiery hot lasers, and the girls quailed and sat down quickly on anything sit-uponable, looking down and trying very hard to be small and unnoticeable.
“I will not even bother asking what is going on here, girls.” Dev’s stentorian voice filled the room like thick, humid, frightening vapor. “You ignored your bedtime and have been exceptionally naughty, the lot of you, and you are absolutely and most assuredly going to pay for that. Michael?”
He took a step toward Season, his finger pointed straight at her nose. “I warned you about behaving properly on this trip, didn’t I, little girl?”
“No, Michael, please! I … I never ever meant to and it was all Poppy’s fault and, and … oh geeze!”
Michael propped his left foot on a firm hassock and yanked his fiancée across his thigh, tugging down her light little shorts as he did so. Hard, harsh smacks echoed down the long room as Season whimpered.
Dev nodded and crooked his finger at Poppy.
“Come along.”
“No! ‘Cause, uh, you see, I wasn’t doing anything bad, and Season just wanted to help, and we were all going back to sleep right now because you said it’s bedtime and we listen to you because we are very helpful like that and NO! Not in front of people!”
Poppy squeaked in anguish when Dev bent her and tucked her under his arm and pushed her pajama trousers down to her ankles.
Her pert bare bottom twisted and wriggled and twitched when his hard hand dropped like a fiery missile from high above, time and time again, each explosive slap raising a hot pink blossom on her smooth, tender skin.
Quel, Lisa, CJ, Gwen, Kristina and Larken tugged at what in former times and in different circumstances would have been their bodices, and tried to keep their lungs full of air while their thoughts shifted quickly from horrified indignation at their friends’ plight, to outright envy of the two girls.
But their relatively quiet reverie was instantly dispelled when the scarred man spoke.
“Bend over, all of you. Kneel on the sofas and lean over the backs. Now.”
His icy voice penetrated the girls’ consciousness like a steel shaft, and they exchanged furtive glances when the man grabbed them and made them do his bidding.
He bared their bottoms, lifting nightdresses and pulling down drawers and knickers as if he had been doing it all his life, and their own long, loud keening filled all the girls’ ears at being denuded and made vulnerable by this man of mystery and intrigue.
Their eyes met, Lisa’s and Larken’s, as they bent over a fat round sofa back, knees on the soft cushions, their bottoms feeling most naked and very much under the gun, but they could not speak, only shake their heads at one another, and wonder what on earth they had got themselves into.
Gwen, CJ and Kristina grumbled and looked back over their shoulders, bound and determined to tell the scarred man where to get off. Then their eyes met his, and they decided against it.
Quel shuddered in sympathy while the horrid strict spanks echoed for a bit longer on Season and Poppy’s bottoms, and then they stopped.
In the awful quiet filled only with girlish whimpers and whispered pleas from the two spanked girls to be let go, a belt slipped from its loops. The scarred man doubled the length of leather and addressed the other naughty party girls.
“You’re going to get your butts blistered and you’re going to stay right where I put you, so get used to it.”
Wild squealing and wriggling followed his remark, but none of the girls moved more than an inch from where he put them.
Dev slipped Poppy between Quel and Larken on one sofa, and Michael pushed Season between CJ and Kristina on another.
Two more belts slicked through their loops, and eight girls squeaked and begged and kicked to no avail while hot, harsh, stinging strokes landed on defiant bare behinds.
Ouchy red stripes covered all their fair flesh, and shrieks drowned their protests in a frightful cacophony.
Tired, half drunk, but forgiven, eight girls whimpered and sniffled into tissues while they wriggled under the covers.
The men kissed them with fondness and bade them rest, and assuaged terrible burn in naughty bottoms with frozen peas and a bit of aloe lotion, and then left the rec room.
Grumbling and griping, and then giggling and groaning followed for a bit, until one by one the girls fell asleep.
In the chill early morning, when the dew had not yet glistered the sage but the cactus owl had gone to sleep, two girls crept from their beds and into the hallway.
Season tiptoed to Michael’s room, and Poppy into Dev’s. Brave girls that they were, they knew full well that their bottoms would again be spanked hard for abandoning their company.
But one ventures to guess that such would be all right with both of them, given the snuggling and kissing and so on that surely followed.
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Posted in bare bottom spanking, Bare bottoms, bottom switching, caning, Corporal punishment, love and spanking, naughty girls spanked, panties down, spanking story | Tagged bare bottoms, Cane, Devlin O Neill, love and spanking, naughty girls, panties down, spanking fiction, Spanking stories | 74 Comments
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What a nice sleepover plan (loved the fun ideas
) – and have to agree that no one shd have a set bedtime at a sleepover … that sort of takes away from some of the fun and games, I would think. 
After the Tops had tucked everyone in, the plan of getting back up to put all the toys into the pool was inspired — too bad the Tops apparently did not have set bedtimes themselves and were up to catch the closing act.
Am wondering if what may have caused part of the problem was the choice of lodging for your part of the sleepover. Instead of using the rec room (as nice as it sounds), perhaps you shd have used a location that would have been not only hidden from mortal view but would also have been quite a bit out of reach of certain Tops (as well as overlooking a lovely small lake) such as a wonderfully plush and decorated treehouse (like I have), which of course has the added benefit of no easy access for mortal Tops. (Access for ladies however is always easy to arrange ahead of time, so not to worry – would be happy to share the use of such for future endeavors like this one)
The menu ideas sounded perfect as did the beverages, so in future, maybe just keep in mind that location, location, location is a key component when planning these little get-togethers.
Have a wonderful day, everyone —
DN (pls don’t mind my ramblings here – am a little sleep-deprived myself)
ps: btw, is Cameron really the way Dev’s previous piece described him to be? Just curious ….. LOL
There has been a slight change of menu (now that the cook has been consulted) and DN, keep an eye out for further rewrites please!
Next time tree top at DN’s house please, would save an awful lot of bother and Tops should have a bedtime.
He really is. Cameron, what you said, funny little guy. (Just don’t tell him I said that.)
I hope you get some sleep, DN.
Dev,
I understand that pyjama parties are fun, though I’ve never been to one, or indeed thrown one.
My major concern is that accumulating such a reservoir of bratitude might be somewhat dangerous.
A bit like having an open barrel of gunpowder in a smithy.
Of course the emergency services where at hand, and arrived promptly when required.
Has Cameron ever been called an emergency service before, his skill appears to be in lighting fires!
Poppy, I would be careful, you never know when Himself will be asking the Colonel to keep an eye on you again.
Thank you for something entertaining to wake up to.
Paul.
Hi, DN, and thanks for the lovely ramble. I apologize for your absence at the party described above. I can only guess that you had gone invisible when I was doing the guest list, so you will be at the top of it next time. I’m sure the girls would be agreeable to your suggestion regarding the next party location, but since I’m not invited I wouldn’t be able to report the story. Perhaps Poppy will.
Poppy, we should at least try my dessert creation. Yours sounds good too though.
Paul, you’re right about the powder keg but I never have minded living dangerously – in my fiction anyhow – and thanks for the kind remarks!
We will try your creation if you are offering to cook it!
as cook, I get a say in the menu, it is the law.
Cook it? Oh. Well. Maybe it isn’t that important.
Imagine my surprise on waking up to find out that I hadn’t been sleeping in my own bed at all, but instead had been at a fabulous sleepover with delightful girls. I believe that I really enjoyed CJ’s mojitos, and the laughter and fun.
I can’t imagine how spanking got into this story, however, as if someone put the spanking implements into the pool, it most assuredly would not have been the angels who attended the party. How unfair Tops are to jump to conclusions!
To tell you the truth, I think that Dev left a clue in the story as to who it really was. Remember this line? “In the chill early morning…the cactus owl had gone to sleep.” Sounds suspicious, doesn’t it?
Good job there was no butler, Lisa, else you’d be blaming him.
Wait, maybe there was a butler! How many mojitos did I have? I think it WAS the butler. Thanks, Dev. Too bad you came to your senses AFTER the spankings!
I probably started it, Lisa. I’m an instigator. It’s how I stayed out of trouble as a kid. I came up with a perfectly naughty idea and left the scene before I could get caught. :p
I love your story Professor. Very fun! I wish we could have a sleepover like that! Er, minus Cameron blistering bottoms with his belt…
The worst part is that I could imagine an epilogue for me where He takes me to task for misbehaving. *grins*
It was wonderful to wake up to this.
And as far as your cooking, Poppy, don’t forget I’m vegetarian. No ucky meat for me!
I never left my senses, Lisa, but I think you have – talking to me like that! The very idea!
Quel, glad you liked the story, and Cameron could no doubt be persuaded to give you extra attention if you need it. The veggies would be good in a sandwich of Yorkshire pudding.
Oh, no, now I’m in trouble on this blite! Sorry, Dev, no disrespect intended! I would never infer that you didn’t have a great deal of sense as a rule, it just seemed to me that perhaps this time you were, as Poppy would say, confused. Anyway, after your very entertaining story, I think I don’t want to get on your wrong side. It seems like a dangerous place to be for a girl!
Quel, I had made for you a vegetarian moussaka with a (veggie) ricotta topping.
Dev forgot to say that because he was bedazzeled by all that meat, you know how men are.
And the owl kept look out while the butler scuttled around throwing implements into the pool. Lisa, how clever of you to work all that out.
AND there is no way that half a gallon of rum is enough for eight girls.
Just so we are clear on that.
This got Chrossed!
Now we have to have more booze.
I imagine the butler was actually a very sweet girl dressed as a man, complete with fake mustache. And I’m sure she would have helped to smuggle in more rum; what are butlers for if not serving drinks? It must have been one of Dev’s ranch hands, either Anita or Josefina.
Congrats on getting Chrossed, Dev!
Yay for Chross!
But Lisa, I would have remembered writing a butler, male or female, and I don’t know why you should be the only girl on the blite who isn’t in trouble.
Poppy, there are other ways to celebrate besides booze. Maybe I will make that cake.
The ranch hands- one of them just has to be a butler.
Don’t all ranches have butlers?
I am sure every ranch everywhere must have one. After all, someone has to mix the ranch dressing.*
* Could not think if ranch-like drink. Am thus in need of trip to ranch. Offers to be sent to “Poppy, probrably in the corner,England.”
Poppy, to the best of my recollection I never have put you into the corner for a bad salad dressing joke. And if a rancher has a butler you can bet he is all hat and no cattle.
Alas, Dev, I cannot take that on trust. I must be whisked to a ranch forthwith to prove your spurious suggestion.
I was suggesting that I am so often in the corner that mail should be sent there but if you have seen the error of your ways (rather than the error of mine) and have seen fit to adjust your terrible corner habit then so much the better.
My corner habit is not terrible, nor is any adjustment needed. All I said was that I never put your there for that sort of joke. And if you can get someone to do any ranch whisking away to (?) let me know.
You have often put me in the corner for things that I know are terribly funny but your sense of humour must have shrunk in the wash or something.
My sense of humor is in quite marvelous condition, thank you, and grows more refined with every passing day. Your winding up in the corner has more to do with your sense of naughtiness than my sense of humor in any case.
U
U
You seemed in need of some “U”.
Here, have a few for future use
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
Excellent story, Dev! I was smiling and squirming the whole time. And happy and safe in the knowledge that it is a work of fiction.
Thanks, Season! Fiction or not, it had the desired effect.
Aund thaunk youu, Pouppy!
What is the penalty for the Ubiquitous Use of Unnecessary U’s?
There is none, obviously, since Poppy uses them all the time.
WOW! Magnificent story, Bro! Have to run but just wanted to thank you for including us all in your fantastic tale. Spoke to Season and she said it was unfair that she got spanked twice. I told her just wait a week from tomorrow when she comes for a visit and she will find out about being spanked too much.
Spanked too much! No such thing. Especially where the sisters-in-bratitude are concerned.
Again, very well done, Dev, just like the bottoms of these naughty girls.
And BIG HUGE congratulations on having this post Chrossed, especially since it only went up last night.
Thanks, Michael, and you’re quite right that there’s no such thing as too much spanking where the brats are concerned.
And yes, nice to see the hit counter spinning again from being Chrossed.
Also you might remind Season that Poppy got three spankings in one day, another instance where art mirrors real life.
I really like this story, Dev. Nice and squirmy. It made me cringe and pull my knees up to my chest. Especially those belts slipping through those loops. Eeek! And I like that the people here, are there. That made me smile. I’m a little worried about that Cameron guy, though. I have a feeling he might show up again, and it won’t be pretty.
I want a slumber party. That’s the best idea I’ve heard for a long time. Girls need to blow off steam, too, you know. And a night of drinking and chatting and giggling with your girlfriends is beyond compare. Of course, there’s nothing better that having partners in crime, either. Even if it leads to an ouchy end. And then snuggles, of course.
I vote for the treehouse, too, dancing nymph. And NO Tops allowed. And NO bedtimes and NO limits on the rum! We’re “not college girls anymore”. We can handle it.
If a girl brats in a fairy tree house, and there are no Tops around to see it, does it count as bratting? I think not.
Ok I was just sent to bed with a really sore bottom after quite a bit of play time at the party.
I had to say, WOW great story even if a bit unrealistic, I am thinking that there would of been a lot more time rounding us girls up! LOL
Yes I know it is way past me bedtime. So Good Night and very cool story, Professor!
Thanks, Larken, and very glad you liked the story. But if you want to party in a fairy tree house with no meter on the rum, you’ll have to write it yourself. DN can help you with that.
CJ, even though this was fiction, you’d be surprised at how very adept I am at girl herding. It’s all in the voice.
This is basically why your work sells and other would be writers works (like myself) do not.
You have a mastery of your subject that absolutely amazes me.
I wish that more CP writers would follow your example and have more flow, more fun and a lot more of the aforementioned strong grasp of subject.
Would it be too much for me to ask you to write a “How to”?
I know you’ve probably had a lot of people ask you about the process; you would be doing a valuable service to we who are struggling.
Just a thought and keep up the good work.
I laughed at the term “girl herding,” but you’re right, it’s all in the voice. How do you Tops do that? One minute you’re laughing with us, and the next minute you’re all strict and no nonsense. Ouch.
In honor of this story by Dev, I dedicate the following video to my fellow brats:
Let’s Misbehave!
Eeeep! I just realized the video has one bad word in it. I honestly thought it said “britches”. My apologies.
Very cheeky, Season, though they are great images.
Lisa, it is a talent we Tops are both born with and later cultivate throughout the years while girl herding.
Girl herding, that is a great term, Dev.
cj with a sore bottom. All is right with the world.
Larken, any slumber party you organize will no doubt leave you and your sisters with an ouchy end.
Rob, it is easy to follow the Devlin O’Neill method of writing erotic spanking fiction, though it may not be for the faint of heart. You need to be a two-fisted drinker in the manner of Humphrey Bogart, Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe; about a case of scotch a week should do. Even better if you can down a slug of that hard stuff with a cigarette dangling from the corner of your mouth. Filterless Camel of course. You must be able to wear a pearl gray fedora at a jaunty angle with a twinkle in your eye that says I am both a man to be reckoned with, and I know how to play, and play hard. Oh, all that and have the talent of one Devlin Francis Xavier O’Neill.
wonderful story professor – but i have to agree with cj, i am not sure i would have been so compliant… but it is fiction after all!
i also think it is great that dev and michael have cute bottoms to distract them from the rest of us
Naughty li’l kristina, always so cheeky.
I love that video!
Season and I, having first hand experience, I would imagine are in agreement about just how persuasive Michael and Dev can be.
But fight it as much as posible I say. I always do.
Hi, Rob, and thanks! Glad you enjoyed the story and I appreciate the very kind words. I’ll be happy to do a very brief how-to, but really you already mentioned a couple of the biggies – know your subject, and have fun with it. Another is rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, but I should save something for the post itself I suppose, and again, most of kind of you to chime in.
Oh, and all the scotch and tobacco isn’t required as an ongoing thing, as long as you abused those substances at some point in your life. (Hi, Michael! Francis Xavier? I like it!)
Season, very nice, and I had to listen because I didn’t remember any B word in the Cole Porter song. I see what you meant now and I’m inclined to let you slide on it, gratuitous and inflammatory though it was. Michael may have other plans for you.
Kristina, ALL bottoms will be dealt with as they deserve, in your case severely, and as opportunity presents. But you’ve not really heard my herding voice, have you? It freezes a girl’s feet and turns her knees to shaving cream.
Hi, Poppy – you do, don’t you?
Hi Rob!
Sorry, how very remiss of me.
I blame Dev.
sounds like opportunity presented itself for cj last night!
i hope she is having fun
Ahhh! I was in hiding doing schoolwork so was not available for this sleepover. But did Dev mention making a cake for the next slumber party?
Have to admit I could be bribed (IF it is Red Velvet with that lovely creamy frosting) to allow the Toppy ones to eventually find the tree that holds our treehouse (imagine the giggles we’ll have from watching them search thru mist and leafy, bushy undergrowth – did I mention my furry little raccoons and squirrels are “helpful” in laying trails? 
). Now, as far as they’re being able to actually climb the tree to enter our abode, am afraid our dear Tops shd remember that fairy-nymph magic is selective at times and that your precious toys would be hanging precariously over the lake. Am certain, however, that a reasonable compromise can be reached – the cake in exchange for your toys! And not to worry – there would be no endangering of life or limb as a simple snap of my fingers would instantly make the swap for us, leaving you safely on the ground with your toys and us safely up above with our cake (am so sorry but there would only be enough fairy/pixie dust for the ladies to ascend and later descend the tree – thank you for being so understanding). :-* Am really looking forward to reading this account when written by one (or more) of you wonderful wordsmiths. Have a wonderful wkend, everyone. 
DN *** ps: dear Poppy, am not much for gin or rum, but a Vodka Collins is nice, as are the Mateus and apricot brandy and that wonderful Libframilch (sp?) you shared last time. And of course fresh blueberries, strawberries, and grapes would be nice too. 
Season, fabulous video! I will take it as my marching orders for the rest of the day.
Liebfraumilch!!!!!
Over my very, very dead body.
You must have me confused with someone else.
Sauvignon blanc or quits.
Or rioja.
Or merlot.
Just not liebfraumilch.
I am off for a lie down.
Season, great video, thanks.
Seems that we are having a mini revival of Pin-ups. that is all that was available when I was growing up, in the dark ages that is.
Love them!
Warm hugs,
Paul.
Hi, Paul! Those are nice, aren’t they?
And Poppy, perhaps a lie down is what you need – and certainly a settle down. If DN wants liebfraumilch she may have liebfraumilch, or Boone’s Farm Strawberry or Mogen David Concord Grape or a ’29 Rothschild’s burgundy for that matter.
She may have it just not from my hand.
Hurumph.
liebfraumilch in my world = thong in your world
Gracious!
DN, your party sounds like a lot of fun. I like the fairy magic that gets us into the tree!
Regarding Poppy and Liebraumilch, you have to love a girl who knows her own mind! I’ll bring some Merlot for Poppy, although Poppy, I do prefer Cabernet myself. The good thing about bottles of wine is that you need so MANY of them, so everyone can have exactly what they want!
Dev, I’ll bet you can tell the difference between your preferred brand of scotch and another brand!
Poppy, am still a bit out of it
— sauvignon blanc is what I was thinking tho I couldn’t remember the name, but I do enjoy a good crisp liebfraumilch, too. Merlot is a nice choice, also. But, scotch is just not for me. 
DN
ps: oh, and no, I would never wear a thong either (but that may just be me).
DN, same with me. I also do not like scotch and thongs!
I do have an educated taste in whisky, Lisa, though I rarely include that item on my vita.
Girls who like scotch, straight out of the bottle the way I drink it, are rare, but girls who dislike thongs aren’t all that numerous either, or so I thought. I object to them strenuously of course, but as DN said, that’s just me.
You don’t drink it from the bottle! You drink it from a glass.
I also like cabernet.
Hey, how about scotch flavored edible thong undies? We could be onto marketing gold here.
Poppy, I think you are becoming a bad influence on Season. Lately she is fighting my persuasiveness more and more. Silly since she comes to visit in a week, and just this morning I purchased a Paula Deen wooden spoon which one of the sisters-in-bratitude mentioned here not too long ago. Very substantial and no doubt will be very ouchy on her bare bottom. See you soon, Season.
Yes, Dev, it is rare to find girls who do NOT prefer thongs. Your influence must be growing. And as Poppy says, I don’t think you’ve ever swigged scotch straight from the bottle, even some rotgut you may have been forced to drink when the Glenfarclas had run dry.
Dancing Nymph, your party does sound like fun for you and your sister brats, but will no doubt end with all you girls sporting sore bums, starting with you and Lisa as you two seem to be the ringleaders for this soiree.
Paul, I love those classic pinups, and yes, I have noticed they are being revived as anything retro is now cool. That explains Dev. *G*
Noooooooooo! I think you should send the spoon to Dev for a trial run on Miss Behave, aka Poppy. You must start at the source of the problem! Don’t chop off the head of the dandelion, dig it up by the root.
Not to worry, dear Season, I will tend your garden, and Dev will tend Poppy’s. And you will get a few extra smacks with the spoon for trying to deflect onto Poppy.
In the immortal words of Ralphie, “Ohhhhh fuuuuuuudge”
Love ‘A Christmas Story,’ Season, and remember, Ralphie got his mouth washed out with soap for using the F word that is not fudge.
Good thing I only said “fudge” then!
Yes it is, young lady, but don’t get cheeky.
Hurumph.
I was making chili and tidying the kitchen whilst I was being so maligned.
I have the vapours.
Do you need a wooden spoon to stir the chili? If you ask nice I bet Michael will you send you the one he just bought. It is a matter of culinary import.
Poppy, the way to revive a young lady from the vapors is a swift spanking.
Nice try, Season, but you just keep digging that hole deeper. Now you have more extra spanks from that spoon you will shortly meet.
wooden spoons are great for smashing zillipeds!
and spanking cheeky girls like you, li’l krsitina.
cheeky?? helpful you mean!
No, cheeky monkey kristina is what I mean and you know it, young lady, as you continue to be cheeky. Just make your punishment worse.
hmmm… michael seems to be eager for someone to visit … i will send some frozen peas as i feel they will be very necessary!
Frozen peas will be necessary in both Massachusetts and New Jersey.