"I Was Impressed!"
By Robert
We
had only begun to get to know each other a
couple of weeks back and were still at that
delightful stage when you think there’s a
mutual attraction and want to find out more.
We’d been out together on not more than
three or four occasions and I certainly
enjoyed her company.
I knew she had been married and that
she had a little boy of about 9 or 10 who was
looked after by his grannie during office
hours and when Helen, that was her name,
Helen, was going out.
We were going out that evening and she
had invited me to come round and pick her up.
Progress?
Yes, I thought so and I was looking
forward to meeting her again.
Helen lived in a small detached house in
the leafy suburbs and I decided to drive
out
there and, I hoped, take her out to
dinner.
She would have arranged for grannie
to ‘baby sit’ her son but I would have a
chance to meet the little scamp before we
went out.
Helen greeted me affectionately and
explained that John, her son, was out
playing with his friends.
I sensed a slight edge of irritation
in her voice as she went on to say she had
told him I was coming and had thought he’d
be back by now.
I made some remark to the effect
that ‘boys will be boys’ and that I was
sure he’d soon arrive.
“He’d better” said Helen “Or I’ll have
something to say to him when he does come
in.
He knows we’re going out.
He should know better!”
Something warned me not to pursue the
topic!
We had plenty of time to spare, in
fact, but clearly Helen was becoming
impatient and I did not want that
impatience to turn on me.
I guided the conversation to other
matters and Helen cooled down.
She poured us a stiff gin and tonic
each and we sat and talked.
It was some thirty minutes later that the
front door crashed open and the sound of a
carefree lad resounded down the hall.
“Hello, mummie” he called cheerfully.
Little did he know!
John bounded into the room
expecting, no doubt, an affectionate
welcome.
With a premonition that I was about
to see another side to my new friend I
watched the scene develop with some
interest.
The little lad’s face fell as it
became clear that he was in deep, deep
trouble.
My new friend was
so
strict; it made me shiver even before it
became clear that he was to be punished,
really punished there and then in front of
me.
So it began!
The scolding, a scolding that made
me shiver in its intensity and its frequent
reminder that he knew, or should know, what
she had to do!
“I have told you before time after time
about this, haven’t I?
I’ve told you that when I ask you to
be home on time I expect you to do as I
say.
You are late again, very late.
Do you not care what I say?
…” and so it went on and on.
The little lad who had rushed in
eagerly to greet his mummie stood before
her and visibly crumpled, poor lad.
His shoulders drooped, his head hung
down, his face, so recently bright and
happy was a picture of misery.
He took his scolding without protest
but he didn’t know, he didn’t know!
Neither did I!
“What did I tell you just last week?” asked
Helen
“What did I say would happen if you
were late again?”
Ashen faced, his head drooped even further.
He didn’t reply but I guessed he
remembered only too well!
“I said I would smack your bottom, didn’t
I?”
Those words!
I shivered at the sound of them
coming from my new friend’s lips!
There is something about the phrase
‘smack your bottom’ when spoken by a woman
like Helen that registers in the memory
bank of a grown man like me.
It made me tremble, and I wasn’t the
one being scolded, I dare not think what it
did to little Johnnie.
“I said I would put you across my
knee and smack your bottom.
Didn’t I?”
He remained miserably silent but I
saw one little hand creep round to cover
his bottom!
That won’t help you, I thought!
Helen leaned towards her son and
took him by the shoulders.
“Didn’t I tell you I would smack
your bottom if you were late again?”
He could hold out no longer!
“Yes, mummie” he mumbled!
“Well, young man” said Helen
“You really leave me no choice, do
you?”
Oh, bless him!
He rubbed his eyes with the back of
his hand in abject misery.
I think he knew that this was no
rhetorical question, I think he knew this
was his sentence!
Helen reached round and picked something up
from the coffee table behind her.
It must have there all the time but
I’d not seen it or at least I’d not
registered its significance.
It was a long handled, hard backed
wooden hairbrush, that disciplinary
implement so beloved of strict mothers.
I am ashamed, dear reader, to admit
that I was excited and hoped and prayed
that she’d not ask me to leave.
She didn’t!
She took her unresisting son by the
arm and guided him over to a nearby chair
upon which she seated herself pulling him
in to her side.
My heart pounding I watched this oh
so familiar ritual unfold before me.
Helen was preparing to smack his
bottom and he, being essentially a good
lad, accepted, however miserably, that he
was going to have his bottom smacked!
I watched with interest, more than
just interest, I watched eagerly.
Helen, once John was positioned by her
right side, took hold of him and hoisted
him off his feet.
I heard him whimper with fright
while at the same time he seemed to be
helping her.
She plonked him face down across her
lap with his bottom over her right leg.
John was still small enough to be
accommodated on her ‘knee’ with his feet
off the floor and his head and shoulders
supported by his folded arms on her left
thigh.
His bottom curved over her right
thigh as his legs hung down.
That little rear must have been nice
and tight for smacking and certainly his
little khaki shorts were stretched across
his waiting buttocks.
Helen smoothed those little shorts
with her hand ensuring that no wrinkles or
creases in the thin material would
interfere with her smacks.
All was now ready and I was very much aware
of the effect this tableau was having on
me!
It was not the sight of a small
boy’s bottom that aroused me, I was not
that way inclined.
It was, rather, the sight of my new
lady friend getting ready to carry out that
necessary if painful duty for which, in my
firm opinion, woman was created!
There is nothing more erotically
exciting than the sight of a good woman
teaching a member of the male sex
 his
manners in the only way we chaps really
understand, through the seat of our pants.
“Right young man!”
THWACK!
It was with a thwack rather than a
crisp smack that the heavy hairbrush
addressed those khaki clad buttocks.
Johnnie yelped!
I think we all do when receiving
that first smack, its sting always comes as
a surprise!
Helen held him tightly and delivered
the second and third smacks without a
murmur from the lad.
His face looked strained and his
hands were clenched into fists.
The fourth smack brought a cry of
pain and it was clear, as his little body
writhed across her knee, that she was
getting her message home to that part of
his anatomy designed to receive it.
She was good, very good.
He took the next few smacks with
little cries of pain but then he broke and
wept in misery while his mother completed
the twelve hard smacks she had planned for
him.
She was not just good she was
splendid and, to me, highly desirable
I was impressed!
After his smacking John was given a kiss
and a cuddle as he stood once more by her
side.
She whispered something in his ear
and he mumbled “Yes mummie” and put his
little arms round her neck. After a while
she gently detached herself from his
embrace and sent him, walking rather
awkwardly I thought, off to his room to
recover his composure and contemplate the
error of his ways.
“How’s your drink?” asked Helen replacing
that hairbrush on the coffee table..
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