Thirty eight year old Sophie Dupree pulled aside the net curtain and watched Miles walk stiffly down the path; he paused briefly and grimaced as he touched the seat of his trousers.

“Do you think I will see him again?” Sophie asked her mother.

“Of course you will darling,” replied Celia who had now joined her daughter at the window.

Sophie and her mother flopped on the sofa, physical and mentally exhausted.

Celia complemented her daughter. “The first time is always a bit daunting, but you did well today.”

“Well you certainly gave him a good start Mummy. I couldn’t believe how marked his bottom was when you brought him back downstairs.”

“Wait here... I'll go and get something.”

Celia disappeared upstairs and returned with the two Lochgelly tawses. Sophie was familiar with the first which had been a regular part of her life during her last years of school but had never seen the second.

“Wow! When did you get that Mummy?” she asked.

Mrs. Dupree explained that she had purchased the tawse from the manufacturer on a trip to Scotland shortly after their discipline program had been introduced. At eighteen years old, Sophie had always been extremely well behaved but Celia knew that girls of a certain age would sometimes stray. The tawse, chosen for its severity, had been bought to be used as the ultimate sanction should Sophie ever get into serious trouble. Celia related stories of how some of Sophie’s friends had gone off the rails and become involved in activities such as smoking pot. Mrs. Dupree said she was pleased that she never had the need to use the strap.

Sophie picked up the tawse and held it out. It was heavy and so stiff that when held by the handle the tips of the two tails barely dipped. It was darker than the strap Sophie was accustomed to and the surface was waxy to the touch. As Sophie imagined how painful it must be to submit to such a formidable strap she felt a little spurt of excitement moisten her gusset.

Sophie’s mother grinned wickedly, “Would you like to know what it feels like?”

Sophie laughed. “Good gracious! No!”

That evening, when Sophie was on her own again she couldn’t get the Image of the strap out of her head. Part of her wished she had been quick enough to say, “Go on then!” instead of “No!”

Sophie had not been subject to physical correction in any shape or form since going off to university and felt something was now missing from her life. She enjoyed being cared for and guided firmly but fairly. There was never any resentment following a strapping and the closeness which followed was always comforting.

That night in bed the thoughts of that day filled Sophie’s mind; tossing and turning as events were replayed. Instinctively Sophie got into her former punishment position with her knees as far apart as possible and her head on the mattress. Imagining how exposed she must look she reached back and tentatively touched her anus with the tips of her fingers before rubbing herself to the most intense spend.

Two streets away Celia Dupree was getting ready for bed. Looking at her reflection in the dressing table mirror she was feeling rather pleased with herself having enjoyed releasing her tension on a young man. As a former ballerina, even Celia’s masturbation technique was graceful; almost like a scene from Swan Lake. Celia would stretch her neck and let fingers dance over her vulva until she tensed, contracted and slowly rested. Tonight she came with her head filled with thoughts of the penis which earlier had been inches from her face.

On Saturday morning Sophie visited her mother for coffee. The intention had been to causally bring the tawse into the conversation in the hope that she could see it again. Sophie couldn’t understand why she had such a fascination for this inanimate object. As soon as her mother put the tray of coffee and biscuits on the table Sophie asked to see the strap again.

Weighing the heavy tawse in her hands, Sophie looked at her mother.

“M...Mummy?”

Celia could read her daughter like a book and took control immediately.

“You do realise that if you ask me to use this on you that I will do it properly?”

Sophie couldn’t think, let alone make a decision. She had intended asking her mother for a couple of swats out of curiosity to experience what the XXH tawse felt like but this was going way too far. A proper tawsing from Celia Dupree is a dozen strokes exactly; never any less and never any more. In reality there could be considerably more if the unfortunate recipient did not comply and proceedings were restarted but this did not count in Celia’s book.

Not waiting for an answer, Celia simply said “I’ll wait for you in my bedroom.”

Sophie talked herself in and out of following her mother upstairs and then decided she would go to the toilet. Her mind was racing so fast it seemed that the world around her was moving in slow motion. After a piddle which seemed to go on forever Sophie wiped herself and pulled up her panties before ascending the stairs.

Celia watched her daughter slip off her jeans and panties before assuming the same position as she did almost twenty years ago. Knees apart, bottom up and head on the mattress.

Although twice as old as when she was last in this predicament, Sophie had not changed that much. Her bottom had filled out a little, but in a nice way. Celia noticed that the soft down between her legs had now been replaced by a full bush and the intimate parts on display were those of a woman no longer a girl. In this close proximity Celia was aware that her daughter now had the scent of a woman.

Sophie hugged the pillow, closed her eyes and waited. She was ready and relaxed before the first swat hit home. The second strike sounded like a starting pistol and panic started to sink in.

“I’m sorry Mummy! I made a terrible mistake.” Sophie started to plead.

Sophie was in turmoil, caught between not being able to take the pain and not being able to disobey her mother. Seeing this, Celia backed off a little for the next few strokes. Although these were not as hard as a real punishment would be they were still more severe than anything Sophie had experienced to date. Celia knew that if she could get her daughter to the half way point they would make it to the end.

As full force was resumed for the seventh, eighth and ninth stroke Sophie’s yelps were replaced by a continual whine. The last three vicious backhanders scorched Sophie’s fesses and it was over.

The first words to come out of Sophie’s mouth were “My Goodness!” and she laughed and burst into tears at the same time.

At her mother’s suggestion Sophie crawled into the bed for a little nap. Her bottom still stung like mad but other feelings started to emerge. Lying in bed with her mother busying herself around the house reminded her of when she lived at home and it was comforting. Sophie could feel the raised ridges left by the tawse on her bottom. She could hear the hum of the vacuum cleaner then the sound of dishes being cleared.

Nicely curled up in bed; Sophie’s fingers found her wet folds.

Celia passed the bedroom door pausing briefly as she heard the unmistakable wet click-click-click sound of self pleasure.

An hour later Sophie woke from her nap and gasped slightly as she sat up on her bruised bottom. She had so needed that strapping but at the same time it felt... well... just a bit weird. When Sophie was at school it seemed quite natural to have her mother discipline her but now that she was an adult and a school teacher she felt a bit uneasy. Celia Dupree on the other hand was not at all fazed by the events of the day and viewed it all as a innocent fun.

Doing what she always did when she had something to sort out in her head Sophie made her way to the gym. Thankfully it was quiet and Sophie was able to get ready in the corner of changing room; she was also thankful that her mother had been accurate and the weals from the tawse were all safely concealed by her shorts.

After going through her stretching routine, Sophie set the timer on the treadmill for twenty minutes and began slowly running. The impact of the running jolted her bottom which throbbed painfully as it bounced but there was no way she would let herself stop until the timer had counted down to zero. After a drink of water it was time for the exercise cycle. Mentally chastising herself for this choice of activity, Sophie grimaced through another agonising twenty minutes. The plan wasn’t working as all Sophie’s thoughts were focussed on her painful bottom.

Finally the gentle rhythm of the cross-trainer provided the space Sophie needed to clear her head. She consoled herself with the lie that it had just been a one-off experience and would not be repeated.

Managing to get the last shower in the row gave Sophie the privacy to wash knowing that no one was likely to walk past; to be on the safe side she spent most of her time in the shower with her back to the jet. Just as she turned to wash her face a startled voice interrupted her thoughts. “Oops... Sorry!”

Sophie froze with embarrassment. What should she do? She could either get dried and out of the shower as quickly as possible and try to get dressed before this unknown lady finished her shower. Her other option was to stay in the shower until the coast was clear.

The first option worked and Sophie made it out of the gym and into coffee shop across the road. Deep in thought whilst making patterns in the chocolate of her cappuccino Sophie was interrupted by an unmistakable voice.

“May I join you?”

Sophie noticed a pair of long, slender legs and as her eyes were drawn to most pronounced mons pubis she blushed. Looking up she saw a pretty face with a neat blond bob.

“Yes...Yes of course!”

Wondering whether she had been recognised from her rear view Sophie opened the conversation.

“I have just come from the gym.”

“I know,” came the reply which sounded almost too enthusiastic.

The two made small talk for a while, discussing various gyms and exercise classes. The stranger introduced herself as Pippa; she was a few years younger than Sophie and had recently moved to the area.

Sophie watched Pippa as she went to the counter and ordered more coffee. Admiring the perfect little bottom encased in sweat pants, Sophie started to relax. Perhaps Pippa had turned away so quickly she hadn’t noticed her flaming red bottom in the shower.

Pippa put the cups down and for the first time looked serious.

“Sophie... I couldn’t help but notice... In the shower...” Pippa couldn’t get the words out.

Pippa listened intently as Sophie, pleased to have someone to talk to, threw caution to the wind and told her story.

As the conversation continued Pippa confessed her curiosity and started making hints which Sophie recognised immediately but pretended to ignore. She was enjoying playing a little game of seeing just how blatant the hints would get when Pippa quietly asked, “Will you spank me please?”

Half an hour later they were standing in Sophie’s lounge.

Sophie surprised herself by how naturally she took control.

“Young lady! You are going to get a smacked bottom!” She had never played the school ma’am before and was enjoying it immensely.

“For goodness sake, get those pants off.”

Pippa responded with an submissive, “Yes Ma’am!” and was soon dressed only in white cotton vest and matching panties.

Encased in white cotton, Pippa’s mons pubis was perfectly proportioned. Pippa was a little self conscious of her small breasts but had no need to be; two delightful little nipples held the fabric of her vest clear of her body in a most feminine way.

Sophie decided to keep the play going and sent Pippa to the corner while she got things ready. Sophie collected her thoughts; s hould she just give her a playful spanking or send her away with a properly spanked bottom? It was a bit too late to ask now as it would spoil the mood so Sophie decided to just see how things develop. But what should she use?

Sophie took the hairbrush from her dressing table; it was a fairly solid square plastic one with nylon bristles; she would have preferred to have a traditional mahogany one at her disposal but this one would do. She then remembered the wooden clothed brush at the bottom of her wardrobe... Perfect.

Entering the lounge with the two implements in the hand Sophie noticed Pippa fidgeting in the corner.

“What is it girl!” Sophie surprised herself again by how naturally she found the role-play.

“Please Miss... May I go to the toilet?”

The downstairs toilet was just off the lounge and Sophie sat down as she listened to Pippa relieve herself. First a few drops followed by the sound of dribble and then a hissing as the flow increased before finally returning to a dribble once more.

“My goodness,” thought Sophie, “she must have been desperate.”

“Time for your Spanking. I hope you washed your hands properly?”

“Yes Miss.”

Sophie took Pippa over her knee and admired her perfect bottom. Getting into a comfortable position she became aware of Pippa’s mons on her thigh.

It occurred to Sophie that she herself had never been spanked by hand. With the exception of hairbrush spankings for minor transgressions such as not wearing the correct days panties and being caned three times the tawse had always been used.

The first spank on Pippa’s panties was a bit lame. Sophie shifted position and managed a harder swat which brought a bit of a reaction but it still wasn’t working. After a little trial and error Sophie had perfected her technique and was drawing a little gasp from Pippa with each smack.

“Time for the Hairbrush!” Sophie announced.

Ten minutes later Pippa was sobbing.

Sophie, a little disappointed that the clothes brush would have to go away unused, gently rubbed the seat of Pippa’s panties. The thin cotton did little to hide the red glow of her bruised bottom. As the perfect thighs spread across her lap parted, Sophie caught a whiff of the unmistakable scent of arousal coming from Pippa’s wet and tightly stretched gusset.

To be continued...