Scenes of Domestic Discipline: Book 3

by Susan Thomas

  Tracy obeyed, ending up with one hand holding onto the end of the bed and the other resting on the floor. Mrs Wildman moved her so that her bottom was conveniently placed for a spanking but Tracy found her feet would barely touch the floor like that and had to stretch her toes out to hold herself in place.

  Smack went the brush; Tracy felt its sting, jerked her legs and shut her eyes, hoping it wouldn't hurt too much. Smack, smack, smack went the brush and her legs moved up and down as if trying to keep time with the spanking. A series of "ows", "ouches" and "ahs" began to fill the air as the spanking progressed. She never knew where the brush would land next and each time it left its stinging trace.

  Suddenly the pace increased, the smacks got harder and Tracy found it hard to keep still; she moved her hand around to try and get a less vulnerable position; she grabbed bedclothes in an effort to have something to hang onto as her whole body jerked and writhed under the ever increasing onslaught. She cried out, "No, no, no, no. No more, No more." But Mrs Wildman spanked harder and faster. Tracy used the bed to push herself almost upright but she was pushed down and the spanking resumed its frenzied pace until she was crying almost uncontrollably and had the bedclothes bunched in one hand while the other thrashed around looking for something to hang onto.

  The pace slowed to simple crisp smacks, a winding down: smack and smack and smack. Finally, it stopped and she was half pushed from the lap. Mrs Wildman stood and Tracy found that she was holding her bottom and hanging her head with tears trickling down both cheeks.

  "I hope you are ashamed of your deception."

  "Yes I am, I'm sorry, I'll never do it again, honestly."

  Tracy didn't see the smile that greeted these words and didn't realise how like a contrite teenager she sounded. "Well that's as maybe but you will spend ten minutes against the wall to reinforce the lesson and if I see your hands come down then my hairbrush will be coming down again. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes," she snivelled.

  "Yes, Mrs Wildman."

  "Yes, Mrs Wildman, sorry."

  After that, Tracy no longer tried to pull the wool over her landlady's eyes and allowed the older woman to guide and help her. She did get a couple of quite minor hand spankings as 'reminders' when she failed to do some exercise and soon she was swimming and going to the gym regularly.

  One day, Tracy came home to find another woman in the house, she looked to be in her mid-thirties and appeared to be staying. Tracy felt a flash of jealousy which lessened a bit but did not disappear when she discovered that she was Hannah, Mrs Wildman's 32-year-old youngest daughter. Hannah had apparently walked out on her husband over some argument or other and Mrs Wildman was not pleased. She believed that wives should not walk out unless they were being abused, and otherwise a dereliction of duty. Tracy could pick up the vibes of disapproval the next morning and overheard, before going to work, her landlady saying that she was going to contact Hannah's husband.

  She thought no more about this but went to work and was busy all day. She was late home (she had given notice she wouldn't be in until late) and let herself wearily into the house. She had her rooms on the top floor but as she got to the second she heard a sound that she now knew - it was the smack of hairbrush on a bare bottom. She paused and moved along the landing a little and was able to see in the partly open door of a bedroom, Hannah over her mother's lap and that hairbrush busy making poor Hannah writhe and wriggle while she cried out and even begged her mother to stop.

  Tracy stood fascinated; she had never seen someone spanked before and realised now her own performance under the brush had not been that shameful as Hannah's was much the same. Tracy winced for her at every hard smack of the brush and her own legs jerked slightly in response to Hannah's flailing legs. As the spanking began to wind down Tracy decided discretion was needed and began to retreat silently. She didn't notice that Hannah, at that point, looked up and saw her retreating along the landing.

  Tracy slept well that night and came down to find Hannah alone; the daughter finished off preparing Tracy's breakfast and sat down with her a cup of coffee held in both hands.

  Hannah was clearly embarrassed, "Er... Mum's gone out on an early shop; she said to say 'Good Morning' to you."

  "Thanks and thanks for breakfast too." Tracy only had her mind half on this conversation as she was thinking about her day.

  "I suppose you think it really weird you seeing what you did last night?"

  Tracy's attention was suddenly focussed one hundred percent. "How did you..."

  "I saw you going back along the landing towards the end of my spanking."

  "Oh heck, I am sorry. I just couldn't resist; does your mum know?"

  "No, she didn't see you and I was too embarrassed to tell her."

  Hannah was more than a little surprised when Tracy let out a long breath of relief. "Pheeew!" She looked quizzically at her.

  Tracy began to blush and the blush grew and grew, spreading right from her neck up to her face and onto her forehead. She could barely look at Hannah as she explained what her arrangement was with Hannah's mum. Hannah began to laugh; she laughed harder and harder until she had to wipe tears from her eyes. "And to think I was worried that you would think me weird. My mum! Honestly, that woman is something else; not content with spanking us she now starts on her lodgers!"

  "What was she spanking you for?"

  "Oh that was my bedtime spanking only. I'd already had one when she got off the 'phone with my husband. He's coming down at the weekend to fetch me now and before he goes he is going to use her strap on me. You'd best go out as you'll hear me yelling all over the house."

  "But why?"

  "It's so corny. I went to a sale and bought some clothes that were an absolute bargain but we can't really afford them. We had a blazing row when he discovered and I can't take sale items back. Anyway he said some unkind things and I walked out. My mother, bless her, disapproves of my spending money I don't have and my walking out. Then I went and lied and told her he had been abusive! So I had two spankings and when he arrives on Sunday she has persuaded him he should take the strap to me. I've agreed because... well, you of all people will understand I am sure."

  Tracy did and the two women parted friends. While Tracy went off to work, Hannah cleared up to her mother's high standards to avoid another spanking. That evening, over the meal, the two spanked 'daughters' chatted some more and agreed to go out together on Friday night for a few drinks.

  It was a great pub they went to with live entertainment. The comedian was a bit poor when he first came on but later in the evening he seemed riotously funny. There were some good singers, a great group, and even the compère seemed funny by the end of the evening. When the show was over they had a couple more drinks and went back home. Strangely, neither noticed it was nearly one in the morning but then everything seemed really funny to them; funny that is until they started up the stairs and saw Mrs Wildman standing at the top looking very unhappy.

  Tracy suddenly remembered her rules: 'no coming in after midnight except with prior agreement... alcohol only ever in moderation; rules she had just broken. Nothing seemed quite so funny anymore. "Bed!" ordered Mrs Wildman and the two 32-year-olds went meekly to their rooms like nine-year-olds. Tracy lay in bed thinking she hadn't really done anything wrong, and she hadn't. If they'd said they would be back late that would have been fine. The alcohol was debatable but clearly not to Mrs Wildman. Tracy wondered what would come her way, for she had no doubt that in the morning she would be punished.

  She came down in just a night dress thinking that anything else was probably going to have to be taken off or lowered anyhow. Hannah joined her on the stairs, clearly thinking the same thing. Both women were wearing short nightdresses and both looked scared. Hannah asked, "Why are we doing this?"

  "Well, I made an agreement," answered Tracy. "It may be mad but I feel I need to stick to it; but why are you?"

  "She's my mum and she's right, I am out of order here. I shouldn't
have spent that money or walked out on Michael and going out like that last night probably is the straw that..."

  "Stop that chattering and come down here right now." It would be hard to sound fiercer than that sixty year old woman, a cross mother in full flow.

  Theoretically, it is hard for a woman in her thirties to look like a 10-year-old. I mean physically she is a woman for one thing and not even an especially young woman, but if you had been able to watch the two women enter the large family kitchen you would have smiled at how like two naughty 10-year-olds they managed to look.

  This was because both had ceded authority to the woman now standing glaring at them: one because she was her daughter, the other because emotionally she might just as well be her daughter. Also both felt guilty for what they had done: Hannah because she was already in disgrace and should never have gone out; Tracy because she had made an agreement and then broken it.

  "I think we will dispense with those nightdresses, they are not short enough not to be a nuisance; I want your bottoms clear for punishment."

  Would you do what these two women in their thirties did? Would you remove your night dress and stand there naked to await being spanked. I think not, but folk are strange and they did. The night dresses were pulled off and placed on a chair and the two were placed in opposite corners with their hands on head to wait for punishment.

  Tracy felt ashamed of standing in this way, and she wondered quite how she had ended up like this. She had a sudden vision of her senior staff walking into this kitchen and seeing her and began to giggle hysterically. There was a burning blow across her bottom followed by a sharp command to stop accompanied by, "I'll give you something to cry about not laugh!" and then another burning blow as the short strap left two strong red marks across her bottom.

  It was Hannah that went first and in fact the strap was not used. With her now experienced ear, Tracy heard the hand followed by the hairbrush. She heard Hannah begin with gasps and ouches to finish with cries and yells and much pleading and begging. Hannah of course had already been spanked twice in the last few days so her bottom was already bruised and sore.

  Tracy was increasingly nervous as Hannah's spanking proceeded, and when she was curtly ordered out of her corner she was scared stiff. There was every reason to be so; the hand spanking was bad enough but her session with the hairbrush went on and on until she was hoarse with the protests her voice would make.

  The two women stood wriggling and squirming in their corners for thirty interminable minutes after their spankings, but more was to come. "Right, Hannah, tomorrow you were due to get the strap from Michael; now you will have two sessions with it: one from me and one from Michael."

  "Mum no, please..."

  She was silenced with a baleful stare before the irate woman turned to Tracy, "You will also have a session with the strap and perhaps that will teach you to mind your Ps and Qs."

  Tracy put up her hand as if a child at school and was given permission to speak. "Please, does it have to be in front of Hannah's husband?"

  "We'll see," was the reply.

  The next morning, Mrs Wildman ensured that the two women were ready for their punishment which would take place in the living room. Hannah had on only bra and knickers as it was her husband coming; she was stood in one corner with her hands on her head some ten minutes before his arrival. Tracy was in another corner, her modesty initially preserved by having on her gym shorts and a T-shirt. She still felt embarrassed, humiliated and vulnerable.

  When Michael arrived it was clear from the whispered exchanges between him and his mother-in-law that a second woman standing in a corner was unexpected. To her relief, Tracy heard Mrs Wildman say, "I'll be dealing with her in between Hannah's punishments."

  Then Hannah was ordered out into the room. She was crying and apologised with heart rending sincerity to her husband. They hugged and kissed but he told her he was still going to punish her and she meekly agreed; a wise woman always knows when it is best to just give in to her man. She was made to pull down her knickers and lay over the arm of one of the big armchairs with her head in the seat.

  To Tracy, the sound of the strap whistling through the air and then landing with such a nasty sound was frightening in the extreme; worse were the cries from Hannah whose plaintive wailing was awful. Finally, the last crack of the strap resounded around the room and a sobbing Hannah was led to the corner to await her next strapping. Shaking, Tracy walked to take her place.

  She stood facing the arm of the chair, wildly wondering if anyone at school could ever find out about this; she hoped not because she would lose all credibility. She looked at Mrs Wildman for instruction. "Pull those shorts down, Tracy!" Her landlady's voice was no longer cross as it had been yesterday but it was firm. Tracy glanced rapidly at Michael who was stood looking amazed at the proceedings. "Michael is staying," said the landlady firmly, "this is not personal to you, your behaviour involved his wife."

  Tracy sighed, hesitating, but she had too much to lose by refusing, and for Michael to see her bare bum being strapped was no big deal in comparison. She laid herself over the arm of the chair, her shorts around her ankles, her bare bottom feeling sensitive and vulnerable. When the first stroke landed it was so hard and so much fiercer than she expected that she threw her hands back to clasp her bottom.

  "Do you want it doubled?" Mrs Wildman sounded determined.

  "No," whined Tracy, not at all grown up.

  She grabbed a cushion and hung on. The next few minutes seemed an eternity of increasing heat and pain as the strap landed again and again on her bare bottom. Her legs kicked, her body jerked, she screamed and cried and pleaded and begged but the strapping continued. She was left exhausted across the arm sobbing until her landlady's firm arm pulled her up and she shuffled, her shorts half off half on, into the corner.

  I'll skip Hannah's second strapping if you don't mind. The poor woman had had three previous hard spankings and one strapping in just a couple of days and her bottom was not really in a fit state for another, but she got it anyhow. Her cries and screams were pitiful but she made no attempt to get out of it. Sometimes we just know in life that we deserve some consequence or punishment and it takes all force from our protests. Suffice it to say she was reunited with her husband and their relationship restored.

  You might think that Tracy would wish to leave after the punishment she and Hannah had received, but you'd be mistaken. It really doesn't matter what age one is, emotional security is very important to us all, and in her landlady that is what Tracy had got, so she stayed. She got the odd spanking from time to time but she improved: she sorted the school out; she relaxed as a person and even became popular with the kids, the teachers and the parents; she took exercise and learnt to relax, even without alcohol. When she met Brian she was to all intents and purposes a different person. He really thought for a long while that Mrs Wildman was her mother. Soon their relationship blossomed and he asked Tracy to marry him.

  Tracy stayed with Mrs Wildman until her marriage a year later but they remained friends and close. Tracy was fond of telling parents of children entering her school, "Never underestimate the importance of mothers."

  Twelve Words

  The dress was simple but lovely and the bride beautiful. Her father walked alongside her down the aisle as proud as it is possible for any father to be of his lovely daughter. Her mother looked happy yet wistful as her daughter moved on with her life.

  Did the wedding dress conceal a well-spanked bottom? Did the father hand over a box with a brand new hairbrush to the groom? Did he simply hand over an old well-used hairbrush? Did that proud father say to his new son-in-law, "Be firm with her, my boy, and don't hesitate to warm her bottom for her, she'll respect you all the more for it?" No, such clichés, though great fun, are simple mythology and none of them were present at the wedding of Naomi and Jack.

  However, when Naomi's mother and father had waved goodbye to those leaving, or seen those staying off to their beds, they w
ent to their spacious hotel room and over a final drink he asked, "How long before he spanks her properly do you think?"

  "Well, not on the honeymoon, they'll be far too busy for that, but not long after they get back."

  He was shocked at the 'busy' reference. She was still his little girl and she, seeing his face, smiled. "Remember ours? Well they won't be any different."

  "Then why soon after?"

  "Because she will test him is why. She'll want him to prove himself and he will."

  ---oOo---

  With that enigmatic conversation, I'll leave them and explain how this wedding came about.

  It often surprises me in Britain how reluctant we are to share a table in a café or restaurant even when busy, and even if only to drink a cup of coffee. So the whole meeting and all that followed turned on his decision to approach the girl and ask her if she would mind if he sat on the spare chair. It was a busy lunch hour, and she sat at a small table with just two chairs and the other one was empty.

  "Excuse me, would you mind if I sat here?"

  She looked up at him and smiled. "Not at all."

  Twelve words including the personal pronoun; twelve important words, a conversation that anyone else could have had but they chose instead to stand at the nearby narrow counter and eat their sandwich, or whatever, uncomfortably.

  "Thank you."

  What else could he say? He had, for an Englishman, rather exhausted his conversation so instead he studied her while pretending to be absorbed in his lunch. She was extremely pretty with fair hair arranged in a long single plait. If she was wearing make-up it was so cleverly applied it wasn't obvious, and her whole face radiated health. He realised that he knew her.

  "You work for the same company I do," he blurted out.

  "Yes I do."

  Another conversation exhausted, he was clearly not a man who had a way with women. In fact he didn't look as if he cared to be, but he seemed to feel that having disturbed her solitude and recognised her, that he should at least talk.