by Susan Thomas
All this leaves you screaming inside for release, to switch off and let someone else be in charge. My throwaway remark about spanking you set it off; what really appeals is not the spanking but coming home to a strict but loving mum who will take charge and tell you what to do. It gives you both the relief from being in charge and the emotional security you crave."
Tracy knew immediately that she was right; it wasn't too harsh. She had no relationship with her mother and they rarely spoke. She was lonely in her personal life and the aching responsibility of pulling her school out of its complacent mire was almost too much for her. She was unaware of the older woman watching her closely so was a little startled when her reverie was interrupted.
"Tracy, you need a mum but not just to kiss you and tell you everything is OK because it's not. I bet you are quite hard at school and overbearing at times and making mistakes; you made one here. I think you'd do well to have a mother figure to provide a little strictness and support in your life; tell you to stop working when you go on too late; listen to your day but hold you to account if you have been harsh or unreasonable; help with your problems but not accept any mistakes without making sure you know about it. That's a mum's job and sometimes mums have to punish. Now you are too old to dock your pocket money..." This remark made them both laugh and they poured a little more wine. The older woman had noticed that Tracy had been listening intently so she continued. "No mum can tell you to put your toys away or even ground you, the usual sanctions don't apply at your age, but a spanking does. It also has the advantage of supplying emotional release. I noticed when my girls were having a teenage strop that a spanking was like a safety valve for them; it blew some of the emotional steam out and left them so much happier.
"I'll make you an offer: I'll be your surrogate mum; I'm pretty sure I'm already that to some degree, but you have to do as I say. If I tell you to pack up and go to bed as it's late you do it; if you do something wrong or make a mistake as you did with the window I'll be on your case, but I may decide you need to be spanked even if you are thirty-nine. If I do, you take it without argument. What do you say to that?"
What to say to a proposal like that? Tracy had two reactions - one came from her heart that knew, just simply knew, that however odd, she wanted this arrangement; the other came from her head which told her this was extremely strange, possibly kinky and not something a 39-year-old Head Teacher would do. So she prevaricated a little by appearing to ask for details. "When you say 'spank' what exactly are you talking about; I mean is it a couple of smacks to the bottom or what?"
"Or what Tracy; my girls will tell you it is definitely or what. If, and I do mean if, I felt just a light spanking was needed I would use my hand but a couple of smacks... no. I used to spank my girls until I had a very red bottom in front of me." Tracy was quick to pick up that if she knew the bottom was very red she was spanking her girls' bare bottom. "But if something more was required I used my wooden hairbrush; always very effective that brush. On extremely rare occasions I used a nasty little strap; it was my father's, and my brothers and I felt it often as we grew up. He was a stern man but I loved him. So what do you say, Tracy?"
"To be honest, I feel really torn between my heart and my head. My head says this is ridiculous and I should have nothing whatsoever to do with it. My heart says I want it; I want exactly what you said of me even if it means these spankings. My heart wants to agree but if it overrules my head I think I still might be too scared of the spanking when it came to it. You'd say I was to be spanked and I'd refuse to cooperate."
"Well, my girls were often uncooperative, especially in their teens. I'm very good at administering spankings to recalcitrant girls and yes, I know you're not a girl anymore!" They both laughed at this and Tracy sat and thought while Mrs Wildman, surrogate mother in waiting, waited patiently.
"What if I go further than being uncooperative though, what if I plain refuse? I mean no disrespect but there is no way you could manage it if I simply walk off to my room."
"That's a good point but this is decision time for you, isn't it. If you agree now and then completely refuse when it comes to it, the whole deal is off and our relationship is imperilled. You would really have no choice but to find somewhere else to live. So what it comes down to, Tracy, is this: agree now and no matter how difficult you are or how much you plead, if I say you get spanked you get spanked, and if I have real difficulty you get extras. Agree now but refuse a spanking from me and you must leave; decline the agreement now and that's fine, we carry on as we are. Don't answer now, Tracy, you're tired and we've had a drink; wait until you've had more time to reflect."
It was Sunday morning before Tracy had a decision ready. Two nights and a day of indecision behind her, she felt better now her mind was made up. "Mrs Wildman, I would like to take you up on your offer even if it means you spank me. You can have no idea how ridiculous that last bit sounds to my ears but... well, yes please, I'd like to go ahead."
Mrs Wildman said nothing, just got up and hugged Tracy in a way her own mother never had. Tracy was almost in tears after, but Mrs Wildman was now speaking seriously. "We will start immediately and we are going to start with your plans to go into your school. Do you know you only relax on Friday evenings? You work most of the evening except during our time together; and you either work in your study or go into school most of the weekend. Now that cannot be needful or healthy. Show me what you plan to do today and if you can't justify it to me, you're not doing it. Instead, you come with me to church and then this afternoon you come out for a good walk with me on the common."
Tracy started to argue and her new 'mother' was sharp, "Don't argue with me, Tracy, justify or quit."
In the end, Tracy couldn't justify what she planned to do even to herself, much less Mrs Wildman. It could easily wait until Monday. So off to church they went. Tracy was surprised at how lively the service was and how friendly the congregation; her parents had mocked church without ever giving real reasons. The walk in the afternoon across the common, with a strong wind putting colour in her cheeks, made her feel better and at bedtime she slept better, especially after a bedtime hug and kiss from her new mother.
But a loving mother sometimes has to punish, anyone with children knows that. It doesn't matter whether they do or do not use spanking, there will be something. Tracy was very quickly to discover that for herself. It was only the Monday morning and Mrs Wildman spoke to Tracy as she got ready for work. "Will you be in for a meal this evening?"
"Er yes..." Tracy looked and sounded vague.
"Tracy, look at me." The voice was sharp and Tracy, startled, turned. "I asked you a question; now look at me and give me a proper answer."
"Oh sorry, yes, I will be in for a meal."
That morning, Tracy realised that was the wrong answer. She had a meeting that would go on to at least nine and intended to ring and cancel her arrangement, but various events conspired to prevent her doing so and it slipped her mind. She remembered when her secretary gave her a sandwich to 'keep her going' and was going to ask that her secretary do it for her but that too slipped her mind. The meeting was a tough one and the evening meal simply didn't resurface in her mind so at around nine fifteen that evening a tired Tracy came back to a cross Mrs Wildman.
"Well, where have you been? I have a ruined meal which is not fit to eat."
Tracy's hand flew to her mouth "Oh no! I forgot to ring you; I made a mistake this morning."
"Not good enough, Tracy. Go up to your room now and get ready for bed. I'll be up soon to deal with this."
"I can't go to bed, I have some papers..."
"Tracy Morgan, get up those stairs immediately; there is no more work for you tonight. You have twenty minutes to be ready for bed before I come up, so don't argue."
Tracy was stunned, only day two of her agreement and she was already in trouble. She went up the stairs, her heart thumping at the situation, and wondering just what was going to happen. She rushed a shower, pulled on a pa
ir of pyjamas and brushed her hair quickly feeling more and more nervous when Mrs Wildman entered carrying a wooden hairbrush.
"Oh please..."
"No pleases, thank you." Mrs Wildman sat down on Tracy's bed. "Just come over here."
Tracy couldn't recall feeling more nervous in her life; she walked slowly over and stood anxiously next to the older woman. "Another mistake, Tracy, and another that inconvenienced me and all because your mind is working too hard. You need to calm down and think more and hopefully I can teach you the importance of that." With that, Tracy found her pyjama bottoms yanked down, and before she could think she found herself hauled across Mrs Wildman's knee.
Tracy felt quite humiliated by her position, her bare bottom sticking up and feeling so helpless in the grip of the older woman, then the first smack. Tracy jerked and yelped slightly as much from shock as anything; it stung more than she expected. Smack, smack, smack, the hand of Mrs Wildman spanked briskly and randomly across Tracy's bottom. Tracy found herself twitching at every smack and waiting fearfully for when it would really hurt. She found that the sting and heat mounted steadily and knew that she was moving her legs up and down in some sort of stupid attempt to ease what she was feeling. The spanking went on and on - smack, smack, smack - and as it did so the sting began to really frighten her. She wasn't sure how much she could take and she began to make little "ows" and "oohs." Suddenly, she panicked. "Please Mrs Wildman, please stop, I don't think I can take much more."
"Nonsense, your bottom isn't nearly red enough yet and you can take it, don't worry."
Smack, smack, smack, smack, the landlady's hand was relentless and her concentration fierce. Tracy began to kick her feet up and down and she kept gasping out at the level of sting her spanking was generating. "Please it hurts, it stings. I'm sorry, please this is enough, I won't make these mistakes again."
"Don't plead, Tracy, you're a grown woman not a little girl; it's meant to sting, it's meant to hurt and I'm not stopping until I think you've learnt your lesson." She carried on spanking the now red bottom which was developing a much darker and more satisfactory 'well spanked bottom' colour.
Smack, smack, smack went her hand and Tracy, to her shame, began to cry. It was so humiliating. She tried to check the tears and keep her legs still but the heat and sting in her bottom were reaching an intolerable crescendo and suddenly she just beat her legs up and down and pleaded, "Stop, oh please stop."
Mrs Wildman looked down at the bottom in front of her, judged the right colour had been reached and helped the younger woman to stand. Tracy reached down to pull her pyjama bottoms up but Mrs Wildman stopped her. "No, we aren't finished yet. I've gone easy on you as this is your first spanking." Tracy looked shocked at this; it hadn't felt easy to her. "But I want you to know what will be in store for you if we have any similar 'mistakes' so I am going to give you a taste of my hairbrush."
Tracy clapped her hands to her bottom and looked horrified. "Please don't. I don't think I can take it. I know I agreed to do this but it's too much and it's so humiliating. I feel as if I am seven or something."
"You can take it and you will; it's only a little taster so you know what might be in store for you. It will help motivate you to sort yourself out." Without any further to-do she pulled Tracy back over her lap and, having got a firm grip, brought the hairbrush crisply down on her right cheek, then crisply down on her left, and finally right across. Tracy jerked, yelped and cried out at each one. "Mighty sting has this brush," said Mrs Wildman conversationally. "A very good cure when my girls got a bit out of hand. Sometimes I spank like that with a nice left, right and centre pattern. Sometimes though I spank like this."
She proceeded to smack the brush down in little mini smacks all in the same place and very fast. The sting escalated so rapidly Tracy lifted herself right up and cried out, "Nooo please stop!"
Then in the same conversational tone Mrs Wildman carried on. "But then I sometimes just spank randomly like this!" and with that she smacked the brush down half a dozen times in different places. Tracy's legs kicked up and down and she cried out pleading for it all to stop.
Mrs Wildman stopped and let her stand but stopped Tracy from pulling her pyjamas bottoms up. The poor Head Teacher just stood there, her hands clasped to her bottom, silent tears trickling down her face. She felt utterly humiliated and strangely exhausted.
"Now sometimes after a good spanking I'd have my girls stand with their hands on their head facing the wall to think about things. Sometimes I made them stand with their bottoms on display. It has a quite salutary effect I can tell you, but I think you've had enough now."
Tracy started crying more. "Oh thank you, I'm so sorry about what happened."
"Don't make any promises now," warned Mrs Wildman. "Let's just get you working on improvements. Frankly, Tracy, I doubt this is the last spanking you'll get, at least if my experience with my girls is anything to go by. And now, time for bed."
Then the landlady became very motherly and Tracy was treated exactly as any good mum treats an upset daughter but she was still made to go to bed. As her 'mother' went to the door to put her light out, Tracy decided to wait until she had gone downstairs and then get out some papers to read, but it was a warm and rather cosy feeling being put to bed and she lay there for a minute feeling her stinging bottom and wondering just how this had all come about. The next thing she knew it was morning and she felt better than she had in months.
It soon became clear to Tracy that Mrs Wildman was taking her motherhood role very seriously indeed; she had said that she would help her and she began to do just that. Tracy was told very firmly to reschedule all her work plans so as to leave Sunday a free day... "Because you need to take some time each week in order to remain effective." Her new mother insisted that somewhere in her week she must do some exercise and that she have a 'stop' time each evening. "Now, Tracy, you must reschedule everything and show me by the end of the week. You'll need to concentrate on your priorities instead of trying to do everything and, if I were you, I'd give your two deputies some tasks that you were going to do and give them an ultimatum: either they do them to your standards or you start disciplinary proceedings."
Tracy saw that her landlady was not just a strong mummy, she was a strong woman, and Tracy knew that she was right. She had shirked tackling the deputies because they had been in the school so long but it must be done. She promised faithfully she would do all that Mrs Wildman asked. "You had better, Tracy, because it is for your own good, and if you don't I shall be after you with my hairbrush in my hand."
Tracy did tackle the deputies and one immediately applied for early retirement which was a relief for the new Head and unbeknown to her, most of the staff too. She did sort her priorities out and she did schedule a rest stop for each evening, but she falsified her intentions and planned work for Sunday when Mrs Wildman was at church. Girls have often believed they could pull the wool over their mother's eyes so Tracy was not the first, although possibly the oldest, to make that mistake.
That Sunday she told the motherly woman she was going to sit and read the newspaper instead of going to church. As soon as the front door shut heralding her landlady's trip to morning service, Tracy was up to her study and into some paperwork. She did not hear the back door open quietly, she did not hear feet on the stairs, she did not even hear her study door open quietly, but she did hear Mrs Wildman's voice say just behind her, "I am very disappointed in you Tracy."
How powerless her discovery made Tracy feel; she really felt like a naughty little girl caught with her hand in the biscuit tin. 'Mother' read her the riot act, a dressing down Tracy would never forget. There was anger in the voice telling her off but also disappointment; no real surprise, however, but then she was a woman with three daughters. It was only when she was told to take off her trousers and knickers that Tracy began to be scared as well as ashamed, but she did as she was told. Her feet were already bare so in a moment she stood bare from the waist down. "Stand with your face
to that wall, with your hands on your head, while I get my hairbrush."
Poor Tracy was now petrified; she had 'tasted' the hairbrush and didn't want the whole meal but unless she simply found somewhere else to live (unthinkable) she was going to do so. She went and stood as instructed and found, for the very first time in her life, just how humbling that position is. Mrs Wildman was gone what seemed to her an eternity, an eternity in which Tracy's bottom prickled and stung in anticipation of what was coming her way. At first she wanted the time to stretch forever and then she wanted to get it all over quickly but all the time her heart pounded faster and faster.
Then her whole stomach and heart did somersaults together as she heard her new mother come back in. "Come over here right now, Tracy."
Tracy walked over to the end of bed where Mrs Wildman was sitting with the hairbrush in her hand. All sorts of scenarios flashed through her mind that would help her escape the ordeal to come but all were rejected as being impractical. The situation was simple: she had agreed to this and only leaving to live elsewhere would get her out; given that was not palatable to her she was going to get a painful spanking.
"Come on, Tracy, let's not waste time; get over my lap."