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“That’s not how it works, Mom. Jeeze, even a little kid could figure this stuff out.”I had come to visit my mother for the weekend and while I was there, she asked me to set up her new television for her. I was trying to explain switching between sources and got a bit frustrated.“Watch your tongue! You’re still not too old, you know.” Mom looked seriously annoyed, and her tone told me to not anger her further.“Fine. I’m going for a walk.” I left without another word and walked around the neighbourhood where I had grown up. So many memories, most of them happy. My mother had been loving and generous and fun, but she also had a hard line that I learned not to cross. She never hesitated to put me over her knee, pants down, and blister my bottom with her hand and hairbrush when I deserved it.Thoughts of those punishments got me thinking about how, every January, she would take me to the local pharmacy to buy a new hairbrush, one meant just for spanking. She always made a point of telling the cashier, a close friend of hers, exactly what it was for. Believe me, that alone was enough to keep me well-behaved, at least for the first few weeks. Inevitably, good intentions gave way to bad behaviour, and I would find myself gaziantep kızıl escort crying in the corner, hot red bottom on display, while my mom phoned her friend to tell her how that year’s brush had performed.On an impulse, I walked two blocks over to the pharmacy and went in. Nothing had changed in the years I’d been away, including the display of brushes and combs. Standing there, I remembered how my mother would examine the brushes, gripping each tightly and giving it little swishes through the air, until she found one that felt just right. She would then hand me the brush and some money and tell me to go pay for it.Red-faced, I would approach the cash and silently lay the brush down for the cashier to ring up, my mother standing behind me. The cashier would pick up the brush and give me a nasty grin before addressing my mother.“Time for a new brush already? Wear out the last one on his naughty bottom? I tell you, if he were mine, I’d go through more than one brush a year. And likely a strap or two as well!”“He’s not a bad boy,” my mother would say, “just a naughty one.” With that, I would pay for the brush, take the newly purchased implement gaziantep köle escort of correction from the cashier, and hand it to my mother.On impulse, I picked one of the wooden brushes from where it was hanging and marched to the cash. A girl I didn’t recognize was there, and she rang up my purchase without comment, though I was sure she looked at me appraisingly. Probably just my imagination.I hurried home before I could change my mind.“Mom? Mom! Where are you?” I walked through the house and eventually found my mother in her home office, just finishing a telephone call. She assured whoever was on the line she would call them back as soon as possible, then hung up and looked at me.“What is it, Michael?”“Mom, what did you mean when said ‘You’re not too old’?”“I was upset at how you spoke to me and a little angry, to be honest. What I meant was you’re not too old to be taught to show me some respect by going over my knee for a good long spanking. Nonsense, of course, you’re far too old to be punished like a little boy.”“Would you? Please?”“Would I what?”I swallowed hard and stared at the floor, barely able to get the words out. “Spank me. Please,” gaziantep kumral escort I whispered.“Spank you? Like a little boy? Over my knee? What’s this all about, Michael? Talk to me.”I explained that I had thought about my rudeness during my walk and how deeply I regretted it. I went on to describe my memories of past spankings and our annual trips to the pharmacy. As much as I dreaded being spanked, I also took great comfort in knowing how much I was loved. The spankings were meant to punish, yes, but also guide and nurture. I never went over my mother’s knee without feeling loved and safe, even if it meant sobbing in pain and contrition.I shyly handed the new hairbrush to my mother.“At least your friend wasn’t on the cash. That would have been mortifying.”“I must confess, Michael, there have been a few times in recent years I would have liked nothing more than to put you over my knee and give you the spanking you deserved. I think we both would have benefitted. You especially.”My mother looked thoughtful as she silently mused over the situation. I waited nervously, half hoping she would decline, half wishing she wouldn’t.“This isn’t something sexual, is it, Michael?” she asked, not unkindly. “Does the thought of being naked over my knee, getting spanked, arouse you?”“No! Maybe. I don’t know. Forget I said anything. Sorry I brought it up.” I felt my face burn with mortification. The truth was that there had been some nights where I had relieved my tension while thinking of past spankings. The fact my mother even asked the question illustrated how well she knew me.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32