Punished By My Girlfriend’s Mother
Carol and I had been going out together for over three months, she was 19 and at Art College, I worked in a car showroom and was 23. Her mother Mrs Whittingham (Janet) was around mid-forties, quite attractive looking for an older woman. We had been out to see a band who were late coming on stage and so the concert was late finishing, we hadn’t wanted to miss the last couple of songs as they were our favourites but I could see Carol was panicking. She always had to be home by eleven during the week, Mothers orders, weekends were fine but weekdays, college eleven pm curfew.
We got back to Carol’s oh it was almost 11.30, Carol asked me to come in and explain to her Mum why we were late…no problems I said.
We went in through the front door, Carol shouted “Home Mum, sorry we were a bit late the band got delayed”.
We went into the front room Mrs Whittingham was sat on the Chesterfield Settee drinking a glass of red wine.
“You’re late Carol” she said calmly but firmly.
“Yes sorry Mrs Whittingham” I said “the band were late coming on, its my fault I am responsible I was driving”.
“Carol you know you have a weekday curfew of eleven pm, no exceptions, college is important” she said again firmly and calmly.
“Yes Mother” said Carol downheartedly. I thought strange is this a big issue.
“Well you know what happens Carol, you will be punished accordingly. Those are my rules” as she took another sip of wine.
Punished accordingly what the hell is she on about I thought, hope she is not grounded for a week or two there is a good party on at the weekend.
“Please Mrs Whittingham, its my fault really its not fair on Carol to take the blame” I piped up.
“Ah David young man so you too should be punished, perhaps more do you not agree?” she asked me.
I nodded “well erm yes guess so”.
“Right Carol you know where it is go and fetch it please, immediately”.
Carol’s face had that air of resignation as she left the room and went upstairs re-appearing a couple of minutes later with a thickish looking leather strap. It looked about two foot long and about two to three inches wide and maybe half an inch thick. One end it seemed was split in the middle the other end had a wooden handle presumably to grip it by. I looked on a little dumbfounded as to what was happening.
“Well young lady you will receive twelve strokes of the strap, and you young man as you claim to be responsible you will receive eighteen strokes, is that understood both of you?”
Carol nodded to her Mum and I agreed that was fine Mrs Whittingham.
“Right ladies first, David please sit in that chair there, and you will see what awaits you. Carol please remove those jeans pull your knickers down to your ankles and bend over the back of the settee”.
I just found myself doing exactly as Mrs Whittingam had said was I really going to see her punish her daughter, a forty odd year old woman using a leather strap on her bare bottom….and then it would be my turn, wow.
Carol took off her jeans and walked to the back of the leather Chesterfield settee, where her mother waited with the leather strap dangling from her right hand. Carol approached her and pulled her knickers down to her ankles. Her mother held the leather strap in front of Carol’s face.
“Kiss the strap and ask for your punishment Carol please” she said.
Carol kissed the leather strap and then said “Please Mother, punish me as hard as required please I deserve my punishment”.
With that she leant forward over the settee gripping the settee on this side. I scarcely could believe my eyes as to the sight I was witnessing. Her mother then opened a drawer and took a tight leather glove
which she put on her right hand, presumably to stop the strap from slipping, Christ this looked serious.
With that she swished the strap a couple of times in the air, before landing the first stroke on Carol’s quivering bottom. The noise was loud like a gunshot.
“One” said Mrs Whittingham.
Then in steady succession the strap was wielded, accurately and with force to Carol’s left buttock, then her right then across both. I could see Carol gripping harder on the settee and trying ever so hard to remain silent. By the ninth stroke she began to whimper, then I saw a tear or two being to trickle down her cheeks. The last three strokes seemed to land a little lower between the buttocks and the top of the legs, now Carol began to cry a little.
“Twelve” said Mrs Whittingham, “that’s your punishment complete young lady. You may stand but DO NOT touch that bottom, understand”.
“Yes Mother” replied Carol. She stood up, knickers still around her ankles. Once again Mrs Whittingham presented the strap in front of her face. Carol again kissed the strap.
“Thank you for administering my punishment it was well deserved” said Carol.
Her Mother pointed to the corner and told her to stand facing the wall leaving the knickers around her ankles. For the first time I saw a glimpse of the red marks and welts that the strap had left, was this really happening ??
“Right David, your turn, jeans off, pants or boxers around your ankles and this side of the settee please, I think we said eighteen strokes for you young man”.
I just began to follow Mrs Whittingham’s orders. I guess I could have just walked out and left but may never see Carol again and well if she could take it. Mind you I had never been punished either at home or school and odd spank when I was little maybe but never any corporal punishment. I could only assume it would hurt.
My jeans were off and folded and I pulled by boxers down to my ankles, I did notice Mrs Whittingham undoing the top bottom of her blouse, she must have been getting warm. I caught a slight glimpse of her cleavage, she had well proportioned breasts I thought must have been where her daughter got hers from. I felt my erm member feeling somewhat stiff and erect a bit embarrassing.
“Feeling a little excited are we David, or is that fear” said Mrs Whittingham, I just blushed.
She then presented the strap in front of me as she had done with her daughter and told me to kiss it.
I kissed the piece of leather just like Carol.
“Please Mrs Whittingham, administer my punishment with no mercy I deserve it” I found myself saying where the hell did that come from. I then bent over the edge of the settee grasping the main area and waiting. I heard the couple of what I presumed were practice swishes before I heard and felt the crack of leather connecting with my bottom.
“One” said Mrs Whittingham.
For a second or two I felt nothing then felt a searing pain in my bottom.
“Two” the second stroke landed just as I was feeling the pain from the first stroke.
When the third stroke landed I cried out “Jesus Christ”.
“Do not use blasphemous language in this house” shouted Mrs Whittingham angrily “that’s just earned you a further six strokes, so be warned” the fourth and fifth strokes followed quickly. I gripped the settee harder and was literally trying to bite my tongue to stop saying anything. One by one the strokes followed, to the left buttock to the right across both and then two or three lower down which was making me whimper a little bit I was trying to be brave.
“Eighteen” I heard and a really hard stroke. Thank God that’s it I thought.
“Now then young man it would be over now if you had not used such foul language earlier so a further six stokes will follow, I will not count them and they will be in quick succession so take a tight grip” she said.
The extra six strokes were then delivered hard and firm and with rapid succession across my bottom. I was sure my arse must be red raw with blood pouring out I had never felt anything like this ever before.
“Stand Up” she said firmly. I did and once again the strap was presented to me to kiss, which I did almost automatically without thought.
“Thank you Mrs Whittingham for administer my punishment. I am sorry it will not happen again”.
It had better not” she said. I noticed now she had opened all of the buttons on her blouse showing her black bra underneath it. I only caught a furtive glimpse as I did not want a further six strokes for lechery. She actually began fastening the blouse presumably she had needed more freedom to swing that darned strap.
“ Now David you face the wall in the other corner. You will both stand there for ten minutes to reflect on your punishments. Then its bed for you Carol and you can go home David, and neither of you are to touch or rub your bottoms until I say so”.
I did as she said trying to catch a quick glimpse of Carol to see if she was ok. I heard Mrs Whittingham placing the strap down on the coffee table and then refilling her wine glass with another glass of Merlot.
I made a mental note whilst standing there never be late back again on a weekday.