Lisa's Mother (M/F story)

 When I was growing up, my best friend was the girl next door, Lisa Milton. We played games, read books, and conducted mischief together, and were more or less inseparable.

 

Lisa looked like an angel, with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She was the cutest thing I had ever laid eyes on.  As we grew older, we grew closer, and in time, we started dating.

 

But this isn’t Lisa’s story. This story is about Lisa’s mother. 

 

The year we celebrated our nineteenth birthday, Lisa’s mother was moving house. Lisa and I, both away studying at college, returned to our old neighbourhood to help her. I was looking forward to a weekend of light physical labour, catching up with old friends and a few conversations with Mrs Milton.

 

At one point in our long workday, Lisa was down in the basement, looking for more boxes to pack things into. Me and her mother were digging through the junk that had piled up in the closets. Suddenly, Mrs Milton called out to me.

 

“Look what I found under these magazines!” She was holding up a small wooden paddle, just a little bit larger than my hand. It had the words “Attitude Adjuster” written across it. Back when I was a kid, I had often seen this thing used on Lisa’s bare bottom, and I had felt its effect more than once myself. She held it out to me, and I took it, swinging it through the air a couple of times.

 “I haven’t seen this thing since I was ten!” I said, letting the memories wash over me.

 

“Oh?” Mrs Milton replied with a smile. “What about the time you were twelve, and decided to see what would happen if you filled a water gun with ink?”

 

I chuckled. “I had forgotten about that. Strange, at the time I would never sit again.”

 

We made a few more jokes, and then went back to work. I put the paddle on the coffee table nearby, meaning to show it to Lisa later, and we’d sit down and talk about our happy days as mischievous children.

 

I headed to the attic to see how much of it still remained to pack. As I came back into the living room, I heard Mrs Milton deliver some stinging remarks to her daughter regarding her choice of studies and dressing style. Mrs Milton was capable of being quite rude when she wanted.

 

While I had only grown closer to my parents as I grew older, Mrs Milton and Lisa had done the opposite. The two of them never agreed about anything, and they used every opportunity to bring out the insults. I was amazed at how often Mrs Milton would be the most childish of them.

 

Lisa delivered a few four-letter words before stomping out of the house. Whenever she got too angry, she would head off into the woods, walking under the trees to calm herself down. She wouldn’t return for a very long time.

 

“Can you believe that girl?” Mrs Milton asked as she turned to me, clearly expecting me to support her. “She can be so rude at times.”

 

“She’s not the only one. Did you really have to say those things about her studies? She’s working hard.”

 

Mrs Milton was taken aback. “Why are you taking her side? She should show her mother some respect. I’m the adult here.”

 

“You aren’t acting like it,” I told her truthfully. “Lisa could have chosen her words better, true, but that doesn’t excuse those insults you keep delivering at every opportunity. You aren’t acting like an adult, you’re acting like a spoiled child just itching for a good spanking!”

 

I turned around and walked away. I didn’t feel like talking more at that point.

 

About an hour later, I was sitting on the floor in the basement, putting a pile of books into boxes. Suddenly, Mrs Milton walked up behind me. A few minutes passed, then she spoke. “Okay.”

 

I turned around. She was staring at the floor, hands behind her back. “Okay what?” I asked.

 

“You told me I deserve a spanking. I’ve thought about it, and I agree.” She handed me the paddle, still studying the floor.

 

There are some things you are never quite mentally ready for. Having a woman twice your age tell you that she deserves to have her bottom paddled is one of them. I wanted to believe that this was a demonstration of her quirky sense of humour, but somehow, I knew it wasn’t. This woman needed a spanking. And she expected me to carry it out.

 

“Let’s go up to the living room,” I said. As I followed her up the stairs, I glanced at the seat I would be warming soon. Mrs Milton was just as curvy as her daughter, even though she was getting a little saggy with age, and the firm bottom in the tight jeans was a real eyecatcher.

 

I pulled out one of the armless chairs from the dinner table and placed it in the middle of the room. As I sat down, I told Mrs Milton to stand in front of me. At my command, she placed her hands at her head as I undid the button and pulled down her jeans, before lowering her panties. Placing the paddle on a nearby table for later, I pulled her over my lap.

 

Here I was, with the mother of my girlfriend across my knees for a spanking. A spanking that she herself had requested. Placing my hand on the white orbs in front of me, I decided to start off the way my spankings had always started off when I was young.

 

“Tell me why you are getting this spanking, Erica,” I said, using Mrs Milton's first name for the first time in my life.

 

She sighed; when I was young. I always found this the most annoying part of the punishment, and she seemed to agree. “I have been rude to my daughter. Many times.”

 

“Correct,” I told her as I started to rub her bottom. “If you have a problem with your daughter, with her actions or her choices, I expect you to tell her like a rational adult. The insults are unnecessary, and the shouting doubly so.” With that, I started the spanking.

 

The smacks were light at first; I knew from experience that the paddle would leave less serious marks if her rear had been warmed up first. But after a minute or so, the smacks were getting quite hard. I wanted to get this over with; the last thing I wanted to happen was for Lisa to enter the door while her mother was over my knee.

 

I moved my hand up and down, trying to cover as much of her bottom as possible. I wasn’t spanking very fast, but I spanked hard, and every time my hand landed it brought a very satisfying SMACK. For a long time, Erica just bit her upper lip and kept quiet, but after a while, my smacks brought with them small, barely audible yelps.

 

When I was satisfied that the warmup was over, I picked up the paddle. I started rubbing the cool wood against Erica’s stinging bottom, and she started whimpering. Her bottom must have been stinging like crazy, and I was about to make it much worse. To her credit, she didn’t try to talk me out of it; she realized that she had erred.

 

The paddle was slower than my hand, but the smack accompanying it was much louder, and, judging by the louder yelps it brought forth, much more painful. Before long, the crying, red-bottomed woman was kicking her legs, trying anything to relieve the pain. To keep her on my lap, I wrapped my left hand around her waist.

 

After a while, I decided that it was enough. I placed the paddle back on the table and helped her off my lap. It was a strange sight; a grown woman hopping from one foot to the other, trying desperately to rub the sting out of her poor bottom with both hands. She made her way over to a mirror, looking at the deep red colour all over her bottom.

 

“I don’t think I will sit for a week. You’re a natural with that thing. Are you sure you haven’t paddled a tail before?”

 

“Yours is the first,” I said.

 

After a while, she put her panties back on, before she slowly raised the tight jeans over her stinging bottom. She hissed with pain as the rough fabric touched her sore bottom. "Forget sitting. Just walking will be a chore.”

 

“When your daughter returns,” I told her, “I want you to apologize to her. I know she is partly to blame for your arguments, but one of you is going to have to be the adult here. It might as well be you.”

 

A mischievous grin spread over her face. “And if I don’t want to apologize?” I didn’t respond, just reached for the paddle lying on the table. She immediately started to tell me she was kidding, backing away with both hands protecting her rear.

 

The rest of the weekend was better, and we got a lot of work done. Miss Milton told us she could handle the rest herself, and by Sunday afternoon me and Lisa were on our way back to the college.