Old Fashioned Mother

Dear Josie,

I am old-fashioned mother who has long considered her twenty-year-old daughter Julia, deserved an old-fashioned spanking. Julia was rude, inconsiderate, spoilt and generally undisciplined. I could stand her tantrums no longer.

After an extremely difficult day, I realised I could no longer put up with her behaviour and I gave he a choice. A spanking or the party we were arranging for her twenty-first birthday would be cancelled.

There were tears, pleading and stamping of feet in temper, but in the end she agreed that she was acting like a spoilt brat and that she thoroughly deserved to be spanked and so we made our way to my bedroom. Even though she is my daughter, and I guess I’m more than a little biased, Julia’s bottom looked a real peach in her tight faded denim-skirt.

I closed the window, sat in a comfortable chair opposite a full-length mirror, and arranged my own skirts carefully.

Julia’s face wore a haughty, petulant, couldn’t care less expression as she placed herself across my knee, the palms of her hands resting on the thick pile carpet and her white high-heeled sneakers an inch clear on the other side. My hand nervously reached down to the hem of her skirt. There was a long pause while I plucked up courage and then, ever so slowly, her skirt was lifted clear and folded above her waist. When I saw Julia’s panties, I was shocked; they were beautiful, gossamer thin silk with a creamy texture with layers of dainty lace. Quite inappropriate for a girl to wear under denim, though I found myself proud of her expensive taste and her delightful underwear would have done justice to any bride.

I don’t know why, but I found it exciting having Julia over my lap in such a manner and I viewed the coming proceedings with relish. Julia squirmed as I leaned over affording a closer more intimate look while my itching fingertips ran lightly, lingeringly along the edge of fancy lace. A glance I the mirror showed Julia’s face had pinkened and her bravado was sadly lacking.

‘Oh mummy do hurry up; get it over quick’ she pleaded ‘please mummy – it’s, it’s so humiliating.’

I knew just how she felt.

The thought of those dreaded, not so easily forgotten few moments, while clothing is being removed from the scene of operations was uppermost in her mind.

I watched her long shapely legs scissoring high in the air, with a flutter of drapery as she wriggled in vain to escape until she tired and lay still.

I never dreamed spanking Julia would be so exciting, I took a while to calm myself before proceeding.

‘I must do this,’ I murmured softly just loud enough for her to hear.

Her face was scarlet as I moved my hands lightly to and fro over the smooth shiny surface of her panties that were drawn skin tight and so thin as to be almost transparent. I could feel the warmth right through.

Finally I peeled down her shell-pink panties and left them hanging loosely from her ankles.

‘I’ve wanted to do this for such a long time! Are you ready Julia?’ I asked.

‘Oh mummy please not too hard!’ she sobbed.

All the pent-up emotions I had suppressed surfaced and I recalled the trouble and anxiety she had caused me. I didn’t hurry. Julia spent a salutary few moments of nerve-racking suspense waiting and thinking about it before I started.

The crisp sounds of smacking mingling with girlish cries and entreaties reverberated round the wall of the bedroom. I smacked that upturned bottom soundly and precisely, taking my time, until her creamy complexion turned a lovely plum colour. My hand rose and fell regularly and stingingly with unerring accuracy. Every inch of her youthful bottom was covered. Julia had one of the hardest spankings a girl ever had.

When it was over I made her stand facing the wall and watched as she gingerly drew up her knickers. I have no regrets. Julia has become a changed girl. There are no tantrums and living with her is now most amicable.

Dorothy Drinkwater




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