This
story is dedicated to my wonderful mom. She came into my life 27 years ago.
Along with her husband, they have become surrogate parents to me, treating me
like one of the family. They have laughed with me, cried with me, held me, and
counselled me after the death of my natural parents and the trauma of
rejection.
Once many
years ago, I disobeyed the old man and ended up with a sore ass after he laid
into me but mom has never punished me. It has been the one aspect of love never
shown to me and I miss it. Until mom actually punishes me, I think that I will
always question the depth of her love to me. Yes, I am an adult but having never felt her love
in the form of loving correction via a spanking I have always felt something is
missing.
A Mother’s Love
Mom came into my life in 1986. I was 31 years of age and
emotionally a wreck. Mom and dad were and still are my ministers. I thought all
was well with the world. At least in my mind, all was well. Now today many
years later I realise I was a wreck.
I think the first inkling of my emotional instability resulted
from problems between my wife and I; my
wife wanted us to go for marriage counselling.
“Yeah right, nothing wrong with me but if that’s what you want
then far be for me to stop you from going,” I said after a few days of nagging,
correction and meaningful discussion.
After my capitulation,
bowing to the inevitable I took Ruth to the first session at mom’s house. In
she went while I waited outside in the car.
I had hardly started reading my book, yes I came prepared,
when mom’s youngest son came to the car and told me, “Mom wants you to come
inside now, she is waiting to start.”
Now if there is one thing I have learned it is this: When a
maternal figure tells you to do something, it is like an executive order. You
carry out the instruction at once, or else!
I went inside and found the pair of them sat in the kitchen at
the table. Mom looked up at me and told me to sit dawn, I meekly did as told
and sat down. Obviously, this session was
intended for the both of us, not just for my wife.
To cut a long story short, mom ended the session by asking me
a question, “Malcolm Edward, when are you going to take my daughter out for a
meal?”
I did not immediately grasp or really hear the question so mom
repeated it several times before I wised up and gave her the answer she wanted.
Again, I have learned that when a maternal figure calls you by your full name
you had better beware because you are in deep trouble and that there is only
one acceptable answer.
“Yes Ma’am, I will take her out for a meal.”
“When?” came the reply, I was not out of danger yet.
I will book a table for this weekend, I promise.”
The next words I heard kind of shocked me.
“I will book a table for this weekend, who?”
Man I was sharp, I picked up on that quickly, replying, “I
will book a table for this weekend I promise Mom.”
Mom beamed and leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek,
“keep your promise son. I love you.”
Mom has been mom ever since.
Several years ago my mother passed away and sitting in my
sister’s dining room on the day of the funeral,
I discovered that my mother had finally rejected myself and my brother. I was
gutted and for a long time I totally withdrew from my loved ones: my wife; my
children, and my adopted family.
Finally, things came to a head and I got a phone call from
mom, “Son you and I need to talk, Dad will be out visiting so it will only be
the two of us.”
I really did not want this conversation to take place but mom
was insistent and reluctantly I walked the three doors down the road to her
house. Opening the kitchen door, I spotted mom
making a cup of tea. On seeing me, she offered me a cup and we chatted as she
brewed the tea.
Sitting down she asked me, “How are you feeling today?”
It was as if the sluice gates on the dam wall had opened. All
my bitterness at the final rejection from the one person that should have loved
me came gushing out in a vitriolic cacophony of hurt and anguish. I poured my
heart out to this wonderful loving lady.
Mom did not hold back, she lovingly confirmed that not only
did she love me but she was sure my mother loved me too. As mom said this to me
I had this flash back to an episode when as an eleven year old I had disobeyed
my mother and she punished me for the very first time that I could ever
remember. All my previous punishments had been given by my older sister.
My next comment was out of my mouth before I even realised it,
“Well I suppose then at one time she did love me, she punished me for being
naughty.”
Looking into mom’s eyes I then said, “You have never punished
me mom, even though I’m sure I’ve given you reason. Do you really love me?”
You could have heard a pin drop. Mom looked at me, the hurt
visible in her eyes and very seriously said, “You are a wonderful son, don’t
ever forget that. The day I feel you deserve a spanking, I promise you that you
will get the hiding of a lifetime!
It took three years before that warning came true. I screwed
up, big time and I got the spanking of my life from my mom.
This is what happened:
Due to the economic crisis in the country, I made some bad
choices and as a result ended up in some difficulty, financially.
Things came to a head when my long-suffering wife felt she and
the rest of the family had suffered enough so she decided, after much thought,
to offer to take over running the finances. Well I lost it! Totally lost it and
I threw a king-size tantrum!
Totally shocked, my wife left the house only to reappear about
10 minutes later with one very irate mom in tow. Between the pair of them, they had obviously decided on a course of
action as my wife disappeared upstairs reappearing a couple of minutes later
brandishing the biggest hairbrush I have ever seen.
Handing the brush to mom she said, “Here you are, I have had
this ready for some months now and I think it is time it was used.”
Turning to me she said, “I want you to go upstairs and change
out of those clothes and put on the pair of swim shorts I’ve laid out on the
bed. Then you are to come back downstairs. Now Go!” This was followed by a firm
smack on my butt.
Mom sat down on the couch and looked at me saying, “Several
years ago you accused me of not loving you because I had never punished you. I
promised you that I would spank you if I felt you deserved it. Well my boy,
that day has come. I’m going to give you the
spanking of your life, then you will spend some time in the corner and after
that, your darling wife will also punish you. If
giving you a spanking shows you that we love you, then by the time we are
finished you will know we love you Very much and
every time you sit down for the next week you will feel the intensity of that
love.”
Having said that, mom
drew me close to her left knee and keeping the pressure on my arm gently drew
me over her lap having opened her legs in order for me to lay draped over her
right knee while her left leg was laid over the back of my thighs trapping me
in place. Mom wasted no more time. Just because she had never punished me did
not mean she did not know how! She swung that brush like a pro! Her opening
salvo of a dozen strokes had me squirming around like I had ants in my pants. The
second dozen had me crying out in agony as the wicked brush landed half a dozen
times on exactly the same spot before moving to the opposite cheek with the
same result. The third salvo landed on the junction between thigh and bottom,
right on the crease. A dozen stokes all on the one spot. I howled, cried, and
pleaded but the fire kept burning.
Then mom began to scold me, punctuating each sentence with
half a dozen strokes, given hard and relentlessly. “If you continue to behave
like a child you will be treated like one.” Then another salvo of spanks rained
fire on my ruined bottom.
“Now my son do you know mommy loves you?” Another volley
scorched my defenceless bottom, now a deep blood red in colour with white
blotches in places. I cried like a baby, no longer a man, a dad, with a family
of my own, reduced to a little boy, howling as he lay over his mommy’s lap, his
crimson bottom mute testimony to the effectiveness of a hairbrush wielded with
precision.
“I’m sorry mommy! Sorry I doubted that you love me! Sorry for
being a big brat and losing my temper…”
“Are you going to misbehave again?” Mom questioned me as the fire
storm raged uncontrollably on my very sorry bottom due to the punishing brush
striking flesh with monotonous regularity. Then suddenly there was no more
noise; just silence, except for my sobbing and crying. During this lull in the
battle I tried to scream out for mercy, pleading with mom to stop spanking me.
However, because of the tears and crying nothing
came out; certainly nothing that was understandable. Mom waited a few more
seconds and when I still had not answered her last question, she repeated the
question, only now she adjusted her aim and scorched my previously untouched
thighs, causing me to levitate off her knee as every muscle in my body reacted
to this attack.
“No no, please no more! I’ll be good mommy. Please mommy no
more…”
Up until then it was the most humbling experience of my life.
Here I was, a middle-aged man, crying
and pleading for the storm of fire to die down, all because I’d acted like a
little boy and threw a tantrum.
Mom helped me stand, my hands immediately cradling my ruined
bottom as I began to dance franticly trying to rub the burn away.
Turning to my wife, mom said, “Ruth, take this little boy and put him in the corner so he
can think about what he has done and also think about the punishment he still
has coming to him from you.
Ruth grabbed hold of my ear and walked, dragging me to the
corner, where she made me stand, my nose pressing against the wall. Smacking my
bottom hard, she admonished me to stop rubbing; telling me that mom had not
gone to all the trouble of lighting the fire for me to try to extinguish the
blaze. “Put those naughty hands on top of your head and don’t you dare rub your
bottom any more or so help me I will send you to fetch that cane you have
hidden next to your wardrobe and use that on your sorry ass.”
In abject terror at the threat of a caning on top of the
punishment I had already received as well as the one still to come, my hands
fairly flew to the top of my head where I quickly interlocked them together
with such force my knuckles turned white.
The whole time I stood in the corner all I could visualise was
the hairbrush impacting my bottom, now beginning to show the early stages of
bruising. My roasted rump smarted something terrible. It felt like some sadist
was pricking the sore cheeks with a very large needle. Of course, it did not help that the tops of my legs smarted also,
serving as a constant reminder of my punishment for not answering mom’s very
rhetorical questions quickly enough.
I thought of trying to wheedle my way out of the second
spanking, the devil on one shoulder having a
running battle with the angel on the other shoulder. Eventually, I resigned
myself to accepting the fact that this spanking was long overdue.
Finally, in reality only about fifteen minutes later, I heard
Ruth call my name, “Malcolm, seeing as you so wanted to rub your bottom I am
going to allow you this once. You may rub as you come here to me.”
I turned and slowly walked towards my lovely wife sitting
demurely on the couch. Knowing that she is right handed I stood next to her
right knee still furiously rubbing my aching butt.
Ruth looked up at me and asked, “What do you say? Where are
your manners little boy?”
I quickly realised that Ruth wanted me to thank her for
allowing me to rub my butt and very quickly responded ensuring her of my
heartfelt thanks and offering sincere apologies for my rudeness.
Ruth looked at me again, her visage stern and unyielding. “Enough,”
was all she said and in mid rub I stopped and looking into her eyes, I leaned forwards and draped myself over her knee.
As I did so, I felt her hands at the waistband of my swim
shorts as she dragged them to my knees.
“This mama likes to see where to spank that naughty bottom so
the shorts are coming down.”
In the position I was in, I was not about to argue, so
stoically I endured the final humiliation my actions caused.
Ruth picked up the brush,
immediately lifting it high before bringing it crashing down on the bruised
bottom laid out so defenceless before her. A few seconds later, it crashed down on the opposite side. I cried out
aloud, already in distress as the pain quickly elevated and overran my
defences. Only two strokes and already I was sobbing, pleading out for my
wonderful loving wife to have mercy on me. I don’t remember much more than
that, but later Ruth confirmed she had given me 24 strokes. The whole episode
over her knee had lasted less than 2 minutes but had felt like an eternity.
Mom had stopped her. I
lay on Ruth’s lap until I came down from that magical place called spank-land fifteen
minutes later. Emotionally drained and exhausted I cried myself to sleep,
waking to find myself cuddled in Ruth’s arms.
I am not sure how long it was before I stood up. Ruth
preserving what little dignity I had left dressed me before telling me I still
had to thank mom for punishing me so soundly.
I turned around and fell into the most loving arms a little
well spanked boy could ever wish for, his mommy. Yes, I call her mom but in
that moment as mom hugged me, she was mommy.
Finally, I knew I had a mommy who loved me.
Authors
note: I want to thank the lovely Jools for her inspiration and editing, as well
as the encouragement she has given me in writing this story
