by Ryan Rowland
"Sure, Anne. I guess can watch Nathan for a while longer. It won't be a problem." Nancy had to force herself to say that. She didn't want to hurt her friend's feelings, but her boy was often an obnoxious brat.
Anne Wilson was grateful to her friend. A single mother whose husband had abandoned her shortly after their son was born, Anne was working two jobs and struggling to provide for herself and her child. She didn't know how she could get by without Nancy, who had a son the same age, and frequently watched Nathan for her.
"Thanks, Nancy. I'll be there to pick him up as soon as I meet with Dr. Howard. We need to talk about Nathan's progress."
Actually, the issue was larger than that, but she didn't want to share the details. Anne hung up the phone and checked her make-up in the mirror. She applied a little lipstick and brushed her hair. When she was satisfied with her appearance, she considered the large, old-fashioned hairbrush she held in her hand. She had owned the brush since she was a little girl, and it held a lot of memories, not all of them pleasant. Instead of returning the hairbrush to its normal place on the vanity, she dropped it into her purse as she left for her visit with Dr. Howard.
Dr. Mark Howard was not a medical doctor. His doctorate was in education. A handsome man only six years Anne's senior, he was young for his position as an administrator at a local private school. But his excellent reputation for his work with young children had earned him the job.
Anne adored her son. Nathan was a sweet child, though even she admitted he could be a bit difficult at times. Due to a chronic ear infection, he had missed much of his time in kindergarten. And because of her busy work schedule, she didn't have as much time to spend with him as she would have liked. Anne was afraid he was going to be behind the other children when he started school in a few months. On the advice of a friend, she had approached Dr. Howard about special tutoring for Nathan.
Living alone since his wife had been killed in a car accident two years previously, Mark Howard had the free time to do a bit of tutoring on the side, and had been impressed by Anne's concern. Too many parents failed to appreciate the importance of a proper foundation for their children's education. He agreed to evaluate the boy's potential and readiness without charge since he knew she was struggling financially and didn't even have a car.
Anne had been overjoyed at his kindness. She took an immediate liking to Dr. Howard and sensed that the feeling might be mutual. But after a couple of sessions with Nathan, Mark reported there was a problem. Nathan was a bright child with a lot of potential, but wouldn't sit still and listen to instructions. He might have a mild case of Attention Deficit Disorder, but his main problem was a total lack of disciplinary training.
Anne was adamantly opposed to giving Nathan drugs for his very mild ADD, but admitted to being very lax on discipline. She loved her son so much she couldn't bring herself to punish him. She promised to talk to Nathan about his behavior. But talking to him did no good, and after another session with Nathan, Mark had lost patience.
"I'm wasting my time with him," he told her forcefully. "I don't blame Nathan; I blame you. He's not going to learn anything else until he learns discipline, and at his age, it needs to come from you, not me or anyone else. You have a responsibility to him. I'm not necessarily saying you need to spank him, though my own opinion is that firm, loving physical discipline is appropriate. But however you do it, you do need to teach him discipline. He is a child and doesn't understand. You're the adult. If you refuse your responsibility, you are the one who needs a good spanking! I've half a mind to do it myself!"
Anne had blushed at that. She formed a mental image of herself over Dr. Howard's lap to be spanked, and it gave her a funny feeling to imagine it.
Mark had stopped and apologized. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I feel strongly about parents' responsibility for their children. My wife wasn't able to have children, and when I see a precious young child like Nathan, I feel jealous and imagine what I would do as his fath... Well, never mind. I'm sorry. I overstepped my position when I said that."
Anne shook her head. "No, you don't need to apologize. I'm afraid you’re right. Since my husband left us, Nathan is all I have left, and I've been terrified of doing anything that would cause me to lose his affection too. I couldn't bear that. But I see now that I've been failing him, like you said."
Anne was sincere, but as she spoke, her mind was focused on the words of his apology like a starving mouse focused on a block of cheese. For five long years, she had been a single mother, on her own, lonely, and struggling to get by. She was reasonably attractive, and a good number of men she'd met had been initially interested. But when they learned she was looking for more than a one-night stand, and came with the baggage of a young son, they couldn't get away fast enough. Had she really just heard a handsome man, who was an educated professional not too much older than she, and available say that Nathan was a 'precious young child', and express envy at the thought of being his father? She couldn't help wonder if there was any possibility, but what did she have to offer a man like Dr. Howard?
Anne had begged for another chance, promising to get serious about curbing Nathan's misbehavior. But then she'd been unable to break the habit of being too permissive with her son, and today she had received a message from Dr. Howard saying his patience was exhausted and he would make no more attempts to work with Nathan.
When she heard the message on her answering machine, Anne cried in frustration, but knew she had only herself to blame. After sitting down for an overdue serious introspection, she made a decision. She would go to see Dr. Howard immediately and persuade him to change his mind. Fortunately, it was only a few minutes' walk from her apartment. She had called Nancy to let her friend know she would be running a little late before setting off determinedly on her mission.
"You may come in, Ms. Wilson. But I'm afraid my mind is made up," Mark said rather stiffly as he opened his door.
"Thank you for seeing me," Anne said as she stepped into his living room. "I understand your frustration with Nathan, and I apologize. But I'm here to ask you to put the blame where it belongs and not punish Nathan for what I've done wrong."
Mark shook his head. "I'm happy to hear you are at least accepting the responsibility, Ms. Wilson. But nevertheless..."
Anne cut him off, wanting to continue before she lost her nerve. "You told me before that you blamed me rather than Nathan, and that I needed a spanking for my failure to discipline him. And you talked about doing it yourself. I've thought about that and I've come to the conclusion you were right. If you were serious about it, I'm here to take my spanking."
Mark blinked his eyes in disbelief. He must have heard wrong. "What?"
Anne's face was red, but she took a deep breath and continued. "I've always needed to be pushed to do the things I should. When I was a girl, my parents spanked me when they needed to give me incentive. But since I married and left home, I haven't had anyone to push me when I needed it. If I was honest with myself, I'd have to admit that was probably a factor in my husband's decision to leave me. I had to do a lot of growing up after he left, but sometimes I'm still that little girl that needs a push to do what she should."
Her eyes had been downcast as she was speaking, but she paused and looked directly at Mark. "You said Nathan is a precious child and that you are concerned for him. If that's true, will you help me to help him? I'm asking you to spank me for my failure to discipline him. And if you will give Nathan another chance later, after I have a chance to work on disciplining him, I will find a way to pay you for it."
After a moment's pause, Anne finished her entreaty. "Please, Dr. Howard. If you will do that, and Nathan gives you any more trouble, I will report to you for another spanking every time he misbehaves. Will you help me?"
Mark recovered from his surprise enough to find his voice. "I... I suppose I could do that. I meant what I said. But I won't play at it. If I do it, it will be a serious spanking."
Anne nodded as she reached into her purse and removed the hairbrush. "Yes, of course. My mother used to spank me with this, and she didn't play at it either. You may use it if you like, unless you would prefer something else."
Mark accepted the hairbrush and hefted it. From its size and weight, he could almost believe it had been intentionally designed as a dual-purpose tool by a no-nonsense disciplinarian. Obviously, Anne was serious. "This will do," he said.
Anne was resolved, but obviously nervous as she asked, "How will you want me? Over your lap? Or in some other position?"
Mark considered for a moment before he sat on the edge of the sofa. "You may bend over my lap."
As she stepped forward, Anne reached for the zipper on her skirt. "I guess I'll need to take this off, won't I?" Without waiting for an answer, she lowered the skirt and stepped out of it.
Mark flushed as he looked at Anne and contemplated what he was about to do. "Before we proceed, Ms. Wilson, I think I should warn you there may be a problem. You are an attractive woman, and the first I've seen not fully clothed in the two years since I lost my wife. I confess I'm having feelings that are ... um... not of a strictly disciplinary nature. I believe I can still give you an effective spanking, but I thought you should be aware."
Anne's face turned redder. "I understand, and I appreciate your honesty. But I want you to go ahead if you're willing to do it."
Mark nodded, and Anne moved forward to bend over his lap. Admiring her shapely legs and the curves of her buttocks, he slid the hairbrush once across the surface of her thin nylon panties before he raised it and brought it down firmly.
"Ow!" Anne sucked in her breath and clenched her fists. It had been a long time since she'd felt that kind of sting on her bottom, but it was familiar from the teen spankings she'd received from her mom.
Mark raised the hairbrush again and proceeded to deliver more swats at a brisk pace. In less than a minute's time, Anne was whimpering and squirming, kicking her feet as the heat rose and the sting became intense.
Mark felt a bit guilty at mixing pleasure with the seriousness of discipline, but he couldn't resist. He'd never imagined that giving a spanking could be such a thrill. Temporarily switching the hairbrush to his left hand, he placed his fingertips in the waistband of Anne's panties. "May I?"
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