by Peter Martin
I was so lucky to have met Sharon. I am Ruth, 25-years-old, and a secretary in the HR department of a large firm. Sharon is 45-years-old, but the twenty year age difference was no problem at all.
I was immediately attracted to Sharon. She is my Mum's age, but I never had a good relationship with her. Unfortunately for me my own mother was far from loving. In fact she wasn't particularly interested in me at all. I longed for a mother's love. In Sharon I had found what I wanted - the security of a loving mother.
Sharon attended the same keep fit classes at the sports centre that I did. After a couple of sessions I started chatting to her. We got to exchanging banter during the class and after the session started going together for a coffee. One time, Sharon asked if I was interested in seeing the latest rom-com film with her. I was, and we went together.
We were soon an item, and my friends joked how Sharon was my Mum's age. I told them that we were just friends but pretty soon Sharon was known as my chummy mummy. I had never heard the term before. Maybe it was unusual having a friend the same age as my Mum. However, I rather liked the idea. The age difference was a bonus for me, anyway.
What I didn't tell my friends was that Sharon's own mother/daughter relationship had also been an abject failure. So she was looking to befriend the daughter she never had. Well, no, actually she had a daughter - but the teenage years were a nightmare and they fell out. Sharon always reckoned she had failed her daughter who went off to University but never came back home to live. Slowly they had lost touch.
Sharon and I just clicked and we got on really well. When out together we heard whispers around us that we seemed like a mum and daughter. We liked those comments.
After a few dates Sharon opened up further and told me that she felt if she had been stricter with her daughter that maybe she wouldn't now be wasting her life - 'living the dream' - as her daughter put it when they last spoke on the phone. In return, I explained to her that my Mum just left me to fend for myself and I knew that I could also quite easily have spiralled out of control. I managed to turn myself around but I would have liked a more disciplined upbringing. It was after a few drinks that I admitted to Sharon, blushing, that I was so hung up about the lack of discipline in my life and often wondered what it would have been like to have had a strict Mum.
Sharon looked surprised by my comment and asked cautiously, "What kind of discipline?"
I was still blushing, answering, "Well, erm, being spanked if I needed to be." I added after a moment, "You know, like if my Mum decided I needed to be."
"Give me some reasons," Sharon asked, clearly interested.
I smiled. "Crikey, there are so many. Mainly though, I used to answer her back which she hated, but as there wasn't any come back I just kept doing it."
"Oh, I see," Sharon replied. "I suppose that would annoy me as well." Sharon smiled and continued, "Well, it's not too late for you to get a good spanking, you know."
"But I'm 25 years old," I said, half-heartedly objecting.
"So? I reckon we should give it a good go. I can be strict and if I think you need it I'll spank you," she added, staring at the table thinking her distant thoughts. "Just like I should have spanked my own daughter."
I thought for a moment, looking at my new friend. She was a good looking woman, cropped dark hair which she told me she coloured, a pretty sleeveless dress that showed off her firm arms. I knew from our walk from the gym that she had bare legs. I could see Sharon so easily as my Mum, so even as she was talking I had made my mind up. I said nervously, "OK, deal."
That night I slept over at Sharon's. I had my own room and all. The very next day Sharon asked me to make my bed. I didn't even mean to be rude. It just came out. I said a very short, "Later."
"I said now, Ruth, and that means now. So I reckon I will need to incentivise you. Come with me."
I looked up, given Sharon's sharp tone, to see her walking over to me. It didn't click immediately. Not until Sharon said sternly, "Go to your room and I'll be up in a minute."
I didn't argue. It was a shock to see it happen so quickly, but I realised that I was going to get my first spanking. I stood up, turned to say sorry but thought better of it, and walked out of the room, up the stairs, and into my bedroom. I heard footsteps behind me and moments later Sharon came into the bedroom. She didn't ask to come in, which she usually did before. She just walked in and closed the door behind her. She walked over to my chair, a high-backed desk chair, and sat down.
"Stand here," she ordered, pointing to the floor by her side.
I quickly stepped across the room and stood on the very spot she pointed at.
"I'm going to take down your knickers so put your hands on your head," she snapped.
Terrified and elated at the same time, I put my hands on top of my head and clasped them together tightly.
Sharon leaned forward and lifted the hem of my skirt up. It was strange being physically undressed, but as soon as my knickers were around my ankles I stepped out of them, which was equally as embarrassing.
"Lift your skirt above your waist and bend over my lap, my girl." Sharon retained her stern tone of voice.
I lifted my skirt up, then edged forward and bent down across Sharon's lap. It seemed so strange as the carpet came up to meet my face. I looked under the chair and saw my bare legs dangling on the far side. I felt Sharon's hand rubbing my bottom in circles. I just thought about how it was really going to happen. I was going to be spanked.
The next moment I sensed Sharon had raised her arm - at least it wasn't rubbing my bottom - and a moment later I felt her hand spank my left bare bottom cheek. It stung, though probably more in surprise than pain. The first spank I had ever received. Before I could relish it, Sharon brought her hand down on my right bare bottom cheek and the feeling of stinging re-occurred. Sharon continued to spank, first one bottom cheek and then the other, spank after spank. I was conscious of the stinging increasing in intensity. However, it wasn't so bad. I did like the feeling of submission and that I had given control to Sharon. I knew I had been naughty saying what I did, after all. Sharon was right to discipline me.
The spanking continued apace. I gasped more and more as I was sure Sharon was spanking me harder and harder. I yelped when Sharon spanked the back of my leg as that really stung. Suddenly she was spanking the backs of my legs alternately. Worse, she spanked the back of the same leg time and again. It felt like twenty times or more before she went back to spanking the back of the other leg.
I lowered my head, scrunched up my face, but was desperate not to ask her to stop, even as the stinging became almost unbearable. After all, I had told her I wanted to be spanked and knew it would hurt. I had my eyes tight shut but felt the tears running down my face as the stinging intensified.
As suddenly as she had started, Sharon stopped spanking me. "Up you get, my girl," she said sternly.
I eased myself off her lap and stood up slowly.
"Hands," she said firmly.
I knew she meant for me to put my hands on top of my head, so I did.
Sharon stood up, pinched one of my ears, pulling it, forcing me to move towards the wall.
"Press your nose against the wall. This is your naughty spot. Think about how rude you were until I say you can move. Understood?"
"Yes, Sharon," I replied, realising I was sniffing and sobbing.
Sharon told me afterwards I spent twenty minutes with my nose pressed against the wall. I did think about what I had said to her so rudely. All in all I thought it was a well-deserved and well given first ever spanking, for both of us.
Afterwards, Sharon and I went to the kitchen and had a coffee. We discussed the spanking.
Sharon explained, almost in wonder. "I started lightly, Ruth, but built up. Once I could hear you gasping I spanked even harder. I had heard spanking the backs of legs stung more, and I found that particularly satisfying. You were struggling for sure."
I responded enthusiastically. "I was, Sharon. I can still feel the stinging, which is great. Also, being across your lap was just what I needed. The loss of control was what I expected, and wanted. You in control, you deciding how long I am spanked for; it was all so right."
Sharon lent forward and we hugged and kissed. I will always remember those kisses, as though she had decided I had learnt my lesson and needed some motherly love. I did.
Sharon and I saw more and more of each other, both socialising with our friends, but also alone at Sharon's house where we relaxed. Mostly we did mother/daughter things, like discussing clothes. However, we quickly developed a discipline routine that established her disciplinary control over me.
Over the next month Sharon spanked me about a dozen times. Each time she made me stand next to her to allow her to take down my knickers and make me step out of them. I then bent across her lap and she spanked me on my bare bottom and lots of times on the backs of my legs. It was a mixture of weird and wonderful sensations - humiliation for sure as I stared at her legs and the floor, and embarrassment when I looked beyond Sharon's legs and saw my legs dangling on the far side, knowing my bare bottom was lying unprotected across her lap. Of course there was the pain - lots of stinging pain.
The first few times Sharon spanked me with her hand, but soon we both knew that whilst it was okay as a corrective measure, I didn't dissolve into crying. So Sharon came home with a large wooden backed paddle hairbrush. The next time she spanked me she used it, and I could not believe how much it stung. I cried so much more as she spanked me dozens of times on the same spot and tears flowed down my face, and I lost all power to control my blubbering. It was what I wanted. She has used the hairbrush on me ever since. Actually, that isn't true. She had to buy several of them as they crack after a few spankings. Sharon always has plenty of spares just in case, leaving one in both of our bedrooms, the living room, and the kitchen.
What happened after that first spanking with the hairbrush surprised us both, but maybe made sense? After all we were friends and not really Mum and daughter. I stayed across Sharon's lap and she soothed me, shush-shushing me and rubbing my bottom. The tears ran down my face. I apologised and said I would try hard never to be naughty again.
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