A short sequel to Lisa's Mother, which I uploaded last week.
It was a week since my girlfriend Lisa and I had been to her mother’s
place to help her move, and therefore a week since I had pulled her mother over
my knee and spanked her bottom. Since then, Lisa and her mother had spoken a
couple of times over the phone, and I was impressed with the progress I had
made. Mrs Milton didn’t deliver her usual barbed insults. Her daughter,
however, saw this as some kind of trick, and was as rude as before. It pained
me to see such strife between a mother and daughter, so I sat down with Lisa to
convince her to give her mother a new chance. "Maybe you’re right, maybe
this is a trick," I said. "But what if it isn’t? Don’t you owe it to
your mother to make an effort?"
"This isn’t your concern! Just stay out of this. This is between
that venomous snake and me."
When we got back, I had shown Lisa the paddle that we had found in the
cupboard, the one both she and I had felt on our backsides while we were
growing up. Now, I felt myself grasping the hilt of the thing, lying peacefully
on the dresser nearby. "You watch your tone with me;" I said,
pointing the paddle at her, "or you’ll be feeling this on your backside."
I was mostly kidding. Even thought I had used that same paddle on her
mother the previous week, I had no intention of using it on Lisa. If she had
told me that I was being silly, or shouted at me, or pretty much anything else,
I would have laughed it off as a bad joke. She didn’t, however. She looked me
square in the eye. "You wouldn’t dare."
She realized by the look on my face that this was the wrong thing to say.
She started to say something, probably an apology, but it was too late. I
grabbed her by the hand and pulled her over my lap.
Lisa’s protests and excuses were cut short by the loud smack of a paddle
hitting jeans. She let out a yelp of pain and kicked her legs. I wouldn’t
expect the paddle to make much of a sting through the thick fabric, so I was
surprised by the effect the instrument had on Lisa.
I locked both of her legs with mine, making sure that she wasn’t going
anywhere until I said we were done. As I moved the small paddle quickly from
cheek to cheek, delivering quick but stinging strokes, I started lecturing her.
"I understand that you don’t like your mother, but that doesn’t excuse
being rude to her, and it doesn’t excuse being rude to me."
"Go to hell! Let me up this instant!"
Instead of answering her, I let the paddle do the talking. She seemed to
respond better to it than to me. Soon, she was crying loudly, and trying her
hardest to wriggle out of my grasp. It was hopeless, but that didn’t stop her
from trying. I moved the paddle up and down her bottom, painting the entire
surface a bright red. Between smacks, I told her how disappointed I was in her
behaviour.
When I was satisfied that her bottom was red enough, I asked Lisa if she
was going to behave from now on. She assured me that she had learned her
lesson, and that from now on, she would treat her mother with the utmost
respect. I let her off my lap and gathered her into a hug.
As she wept into my shirt, I noticed something in Lisa. It was a change
not only in her behaviour, but her entire body, as if had received something
she needed. I vowed to give my girlfriend everything she needed. Even if – or
maybe especially if – she didn’t want it.
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