Mary Johnson was standing in the kitchen listening to the chorus of female voices singing “Happy Birthday” in the living room. It was her daughter Zoe’s eighteenth birthday, and she had invited her closest friends to a small party.
At the end of her song, Sheila Page spoke up. Sheila was a relatively recent addition to the group – she had only started in their class a little over a year ago, but she had quickly become friends with the other girls. Mrs. Johnson had often been impressed with the intelligent, observant and compassionate girl.
“Now, Zoe has gotten her cake, her presents, and her song,” Sheila said, rubbing her palms together. “There’s just one thing left to give her.”
“Oh no,” Zoe said as dramatically as she could, burying her face in her hands as the other girls started chanting, “The spanking! The spanking!”
Mrs. Johnson stared wide-eyed, a blush beginning to tinge her cheeks. What was going on?
“That’s right, it’s time for the birthday spanking,” Sheila said as she patted her jean-clad lap. “Over my knee, birthday girl.”
Making some half-hearted protests, Zoe rose to her feet and made her way over to Sheila. “This is so humiliating,” she giggled as she laid across Sheila’s lap.
“All the other girls in the group have been over my lap on their birthday, Zoe,” Sheila said as she began to rub the seat of the girl’s jeans. “You didn’t protest then.”
In the kitchen, Mrs. Johnson had to grip the side of a table to keep herself upright. There was just something about hearing the word ‘spanking’ that seemed to make her knees weak, especially so many times in a row. She stared wide-eyed into the living room as Sheila lifted her hand and smacked it down hard on her daughter’s backside.
“Ouch! One,” Zoe squealed, followed by a hissed “Two” and “Three” as Sheila’s hand continued to land.
The others giggled loudly as Zoe squirmed around on Sheila’s lap. None of the girls displayed much sympathy. But no matter how much she wriggled her rear end, she could not escape Sheila’s stinging hand.
As Sheila continued to spank Zoe’s bottom vigorously, she looked up and met Mrs. Johnson’s gaze. The older woman blushed, turning her gaze away – Sheila’s eyes always seemed to see more than the obvious. She did not want her to read her mind right now.
In the living room, the spanking was nearing its end. Zoe called out “Seventeen!” and “Eighteen!” as Sheila’s hand landed on her now-blazing rump, and she breathed a sigh of relief – followed by a yelp as Sheila delivered one last stinging smack.
“And one to grow on,” Sheila said. She began to rub the sting from Zoe’s butt, her eyes once again locking with Mrs. Johnson’s.
Zoe was the last member of the group to turn 18, and as they were all now old enough to go out drinking, they had decided to spend this lovely Friday evening at a pub. As the girls got ready to go out, Sheila told them that she would help Mrs. Johnson clean up, then join the group at the pub.
When the girls had left, Sheila started to clear away the plates and glasses and carried them into the kitchen. She looked at Mrs. Johnson, studying the older woman. “So, Mrs. Johnson, was that the first time you’ve seen someone get spanked?”
Mrs. Johnson nodded, not trusting her voice right now. The sight had been a shock to her system in ways that she could not – or would not – put into words. Sheila, on the other hand, had no such limitations.
“Have you even been spanked before?” she asked. Mrs. Johnson shook her head.
“Your eyes almost bulged out of your head. There was something hungry there – something that seemed to have been awakened." When Mrs. Johnson didn't respond, she continued, “I could see it, Mrs. Johnson. You wanted to be a part of it, didn’t you? So which part did you want to play – mine, or Zoe’s?”
Mrs. Johnson tried to look away, but Sheila gently grabbed her chin and forced her to meet her eyes. “Zoe’s,” she admitted.
Sheila grinned. “Well, I think I can help you with that… Mary.”
She grabbed the older woman’s wrist and guided her into the living room, then sat down on the couch again. “I think you know the position, don’t you, Mary?” she said as she patted her lap.
Blushing, Mary slowly lowered herself over the teenager’s lap. The feeling of the girl’s thighs under her stomach made her head swim, and she gasped as her hand started to gently rub circles on her wide backside.
“Have you ever been spanked before, Mary?”
“No, Sheila.”
The girl tutted. “Until I tell you otherwise, you will refer to me as ‘Miss Page’. Is that understood, Mary?”
Mary’s blush grew even redder. Being referred by her first name was nothing to be embarrassed about, but referring to her daughter’s friend as ‘Miss Page’ was a little humiliating. Of course, lying over the girl’s knee with her backside in the air, about to be spanked as a child, was a lot more embarrassing.
The girl gave her thigh a hard spank. “I said, is that understood, Mary?”
“Ow! Yes, Miss Page.”
“Better,” she said with a grin. “Now, since it’s not your birthday, I’m not going to set a specific number of swats – I’m just going to spank you until I think it’s enough. Of course, since you haven’t gotten a birthday spanking before, we have a lot to make up for, haven’t we?” And she started to spank.
Mary gasped as the first few spanks landed on her bottom, but mainly from shock. Unlike the spanking she had witnessed earlier, this did not start off hard from the first smack; more like a gentle patting that made her backside tingle pleasantly.
Sheila spanked with the regularity of a metronome, smacking first one cheek, then the other. Her hand moved from the top of Mary’s thighs to the lower parts of her back, making sure every inch felt the touch of her hand.
Mary was wearing a long, green dress, worn more for comfort than for its appearance. Sheila grabbed the hem of the dress, lifting it to reveal white cotton panties. “Your bottom has just begun to turn pink,” Sheila sad as she rubbed Mary’s backside. “Now, let’s make it red.”
Gradually, the spanks grew harder and faster, and soon, Mary was kicking her legs and wriggling, but no matter how she moved, Sheila’s palm never missed its mark. After a few minutes. Mary felt the girl’s fingers move to the waistband of her panties.
“Sheila, I don’t think…”
“I told you to call me Miss Page,” the girl said strictly. “If you get it wrong again, I think I shall take a hairbrush to your impudent backside." And she bared the older woman’s bottom before she had a chance to protest.
Some time later, Mrs. Johnson stood rubbing a stinging rear end, while Sheila was preparing to head out.
“I’ll meet the girls at the pub now, but don’t hesitate to call me if you need my services again.”
“Thank you… Miss Page,” the older woman said blushing.
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