STORY: Tiffany's First Spanking (F/F)
tarquin grant
Tiffany's First Spanking (F/F)
A Story By Tarquin
This story, for adults only, involves the spanking of a a pre-teen girl by
her mother. If you find such tales distasteful please read no further. If,
on the other hand, such stories are to your taste, read on and enjoy.
Irene Norcross was worried. Here it was well after eight p.m. and Tiffany,
her daughter, was still not home. For the past three evenings Irene had
been forced to work late and had been arriving home around ten, but she'd
always assumed that 12-tear-old Tiffany was still coming straight home
following her after school activities and was in the house by nightfall. In
part she blamed herself. The rush project in her office was absorbing all
of her time and attention to the point where she hadn't even been bothering
to call home to check on her daughter's well being. Tonight was Friday and
she had tried to leave early but the hour-long commute to their suburban
home had taken longer than usual because of a traffic accident. Despite
the long drive Irene had remained in this affluent community of split-level
homes after her divorce eight years ago because she thought it was the best
environment for Tiffany. Now she was beginning to have some doubts.
The kids at Tiffany's junior high acted like they were little grownups, when
in fact they were still really just children with too much exposure to the
adult world. Often she had been shocked to overhear the utterances of her
daughter's friends, the casual way they discussed sex and boys. When she had
been their age she had been completely ignorant of sexual matters and would
have never employed the four-letter words that on occasion had flown freely
from her child's mouth. In fact, even if she had known those words she
never would have uttered them in front of her mother. Irene had grown up in
the rolling bluegrass hills of Kentucky, where spare the rod and spoil the
child was taken as gospel. Foul language would land the perpetrator face
down over a maternal knee. A first-time offender might get off with a hand
spanking, but a second offense would surely mean the hairbrush, on a bare
bottom no less.
Even now, at age 40, Irene winced when she recalled those spankings,
although it had been nearly 25 years since she had been punished in that
manner. Whining, pleading, begging and promises always failed to gain a
reprieve. Once her mother had decided on a punishment that was it, and woe
betide the child who resisted. That would mean daddy's involvement and
going face down over the arm of a couch while he belabored the naked
buttocks of the miscreant with the broad leather belt normally used to hold
up his jeans. No, thought Irene, far better the sting of mamma's palm or
hairbrush then the humiliation of being whipped by daddy.
It was memories of those spankings and the rare belting from her father that
had made Irene resolve to eschew corporal punishment when it came to her
daughter. Now she was having second thoughts. She was well and truly
worried about the direction Tiffany's life was taking. Part of the blame,
she admitted, was hers. As a single mom Irene had worked hard at building a
career to insure a good income, one that would provide a comfortable
environment for her daughter. Constructing that career had meant a great
deal of time away from home traveling, entertaining clients and working late
at the office. It paid off in a six figure income but came at a high
price, the cost of spending too much time away from Tiffany. Then there was
Irene's personal life. A healthy woman with normal appetites she had a
series of lovers over the years, some single and some married. When Tiffany
was younger and could be left with a baby sitter Irene's dating was not
that much of a problem. But now that Tiffany was nearly 13 it put some
strain on Irene's social life. She continued to date but was always worried
about what her daughter might be up to.
At that moment the front door slammed shut. Irene raced to the foyer just
in time to see Tiffany stagger in. She was shocked at her daughter's
appearance. It wasn't just the tight red knit dress, far too provocative
for a girl that age, it was Tiffany's disheveled hair, smeared makeup, pale
skin and disoriented eyes. "Oh no," moaned the girl, "I'm going to be
sick."
Tiffany began to stagger to the nearest bathroom but never made it, bending
over in the hallway and throwing up on the carpet. The stench of alcohol
wafting up from the vomit assaulted Irene's nostrils. She got a wet towel
and wiped her daughter's face before taking the child to her room,
undressing her and putting her to bed. Then Irene went back to clean up
the mess.
That night Irene hardly slept at all. Could, in the year 2000, a mother
still spank a daughter on the threshold of puberty. Back and forth she
argued the question in her mind. Finally, a few hours before dawn, she
resolved to take drastic action and drifted off into a deep sleep. Upon
awakening she thought about it again. Irene may have hated those spankings
received as a child but they had, in retrospect, helped form her character.
Irene decided she must harden her heart and give Tiffany a strong dose of
the same medicine that had cured her of so many bad habits.
Tiffany, as might be expected, slept late and woke up with a raging
hangover. She spent Saturday in bed with Irene nursing her back to health.
Then several hours after dinner, the first meal the girl had been able to
keep down all day, Irene entered her daughter's room carrying a hairbrush.
As a child the sight of her mother walking in with a hairbrush would have
sent shivers up and down Irene's spine. It could mean only one thing, she
would be sleeping on her tummy with a sore tail that night. Tiffany looked
up and took no notice of the instrument in her mother's hand.
Irene sat on the edge of her daughter's bed and said, "honey, we have to
talk." Tiffany responded by rolling her eyes and in a Bette Davis voice
that reeked with pseudo boredom sighed, "oh not now mother, I'm much too
tired." Irene paused, kept her temper in check, and resumed, "no Tiffany
now, your behavior of late has been completely unacceptable and last night
put a cap on it. Coming home drunk, at your age, is intolerable and I have
come to the conclusion that strong intervention is required."
Tiffany eyes looked puzzled and her pretty face suddenly wore a petulant
frown. "Yadda, yadda, yadda, so what does that mean, like you are
threatening to ground me or something?" "I am not threatening anything
Tiffany, I am telling. Had I behaved as you did last night, which in my
wildest dreams I could not have imagined doing, my mother would have
spanked me, hard, and I would have learned never to do it again," said Irene
in a calm measured tone. "So your mother beat you," Tiffany responded,
"I'm sorry, but it has nothing to do with me."
"You just don't get it do you?" laughed Irene, "I am telling you this so you
will understand why I have decided to spank you tonight." "Oh please"
shouted Tiffany with more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice, "spank me,
are you crazy? You can't do that, its child abuse, I could have you
arrested." "No it is not, and no you can't," said Irene in a reasonable
voice, "it is assuming my parental responsibility, and I am more than
willing to go to court to exercise that right. So call the cops if you want
to when I am finished, but understand that no threat is going to deter me
from doing what has to be done to save you from yourself. Now darling we
can do this the hard way or we can do it the easy way, but the bottom line
is that you have been completely out of hand lately and one way or another
you are going to be spanked tonight."
Tiffany was stunned into silence by her mother's pronouncement. Irene had
been an outstanding athlete in college, a starter on the women's basketball
team, and even today was among the best female tennis players at her country
club. She was also five-foot-nine and weighed 130 pounds. Tiffany was
barely five feet tall and weighed about eighty pounds. If she fought she
would be easily over powered. Besides that she had no one else. Since he
had walked out on the family when Tiffany was only four her father had been
just a rumor in her life, never visiting, not even calling or writing. She
and her mom had been completely abandoned by the bum. Realizing that her
mother was serious Tiffany finally spoke, "so like what are we talking
about here?"
"We are talking about you going over my lap like I used to go over your
grandmother's lap when I was your age. Then I am going to spank your
buttocks with my hand. When I am through doing that I'm going to give you a
taste of this hairbrush so that you will know what to expect if you
misbehave again as you did last night. Now Tiffany I want you to stand up
and come over to my right side." Tiffany hesitated for several moments and
considered her options. Physically intimidated by the implied threat behind
her mother's remark about doing it the hard way, she quickly realized she
had no options so the suddenly very nervous 12-year-old got up an went to
her mother's side. It was obvious from the way her lips quivered that
Tiffany was struggling to keep herself from crying. "First we are going to
remove these pajama pants," said Irene as she undid the drawstring and
pulled the cotton trousers down to her daughter's ankles. "Now step out of
them and lie across my lap," Irene instructed while making herself
comfortable at the edge of the bed.
With her Irene grasping her forearms and pulling her forward Tiffany
shuddered slightly as the fronts of her naked thighs made contact with the
cloth of her mother's house dress. She felt two strong hands grip her waist
and pull her hips into position on Irene's right thigh. Tiffany's upper
torso rested on Irene's left thigh and her arms were on the bed spread.
Irene could not suppress a brief smile as she gazed down on her child's firm
white buttocks. She may pretend she's an adult, thought Irene, but she
still has a young girl's compact bottom. Irene honestly wished she could
just pat the firm pert butt affectionately as she had done so often in the
past, but there was work to be done.
Like any kid Tiffany had experienced many small humiliations in her short
lifetime. A cruel remark by another child, not knowing the answer to a
teacher's question and feeling stupid, being made fun of by a boy she had
crush on. But never had she been as embarrassed and humiliated as she was
now, face down and bare bottomed over her mother's lap. Certainly she would
surely die is anyone ever found out about this. Nothing, she thought, could
ever be worse that this. In a split second that thought was proved
incorrect.
Never had Tiffany experienced more than an affectionate pat on her behind so
she was startled and shocked when Irene raised her right hand and brought
her palm sharply down on the girl's buttock cheek with a loud smack. "Hey
that hurt," yelped Tiffany. "No pain no gain," cracked her mother. "This
is supposed to be a hard lesson, something you will not soon forget."
Tiffany always had a rebellious streak and now it manifested itself as it
often does with rebels in a complete disregard for common sense and personal
well being. Looking over her right shoulder and glaring directly into her
mother's eyes Tiffany shouted "You bitch, I'll always hate you for this."
The words were spit out with such intensity that they reached Irene like a
slap across the face. Would this spanking really alienate her daughter
forever. Irene's feelings toward her own mother raced through her mind.
Sure she hated being spanked, but she got over it, regarding the experience
as just being part of growing up. No turning back now she mused, in for a
dime in for a dollar. Carefully Irene took aim at Tiffany's round right
cheek and let loose with a fast volley; smack, smack, smack, smack, smack,
smack, her palm crashed into the satiny skin. Tiffany howled and stuck back
her right hand palm up for protection. Irene quickly grasped the wrist with
her left hand and pressed it against Tiffany's waist with an admonishment
not to struggle because that would only make things worse.
At that moment Tiffany was nearly overcome by the desire to burst into tears
and beg for forgiveness. Nearly overcome, not totally. Biting down on the
bedspread she vowed not to cry or scream. If her mother wanted to beat her
fine, she would not give her the satisfaction of bawling like a baby.
Irene, for her part was torn between conflicting emotions; on the one hand
she could hardly bear to hurt her child, on the other she knew this was one
of the few options available if she really wanted to straighten the kid out.
Besides the child had just called her a bitch. She had to be taught such
language directed at an adult, let alone a parent, from a girl of 12 was
beyond the pale. So clenching her teeth Irene let loose with a volley on
the left cheek, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack. Both Tiffany's
buttock cheeks where now flushed with a deep pink glow, but Irene knew this
was just the beginning. "I don't have to scold you and tell you that a girl
your age shouldn't be drinking alcohol. You know that. Just remember this
is what you can expect if there is a next time." Her little speech over
Irene rained spanks down with abandon; smack, smack, smack, smack, smack,
smack she covered the entire bottom; smack, smack, smack, smack, smack,
smack, some spanks missed their intended target and struck the backs of
Tiffany's thighs causing the girl to involuntarily kick her legs. Smack,
smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, the girl's buttocks were now a uniform
shade of bright red. Irene rested her palm on the right cheek and noticed
how hot it was. She remembered that heat from the times she had rubbed her
bare bottom after it had been spanked.
Still Tiffany was stubborn and made no sound save for an occasional grunt as
each flurry of spanks reached its apex. Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack,
smack, Irene's hand was beginning to sting and still there was no response
from her daughter. She paused and Tiffany tried to push herself up. "No
darling," said her mother, gently gripping the child's shoulders and forcing
her back into position, "we are not quite finished yet. Now I am going to
demonstrate what a hairbrush spanking is like so you know what to expect in
the future." Never before had Tiffany felt so exposed, helpless and
vulnerable. She was completely under her mother's control and there was
nothing she could do about it. Irene rubbed the cool wooden back of the
brush over Tiffany's inflamed right buttock cheek. Although its touch was
strangely soothing the polished wood made Tiffany shiver in anticipation of
what she realized would be much worse than the hand spanking she had just
endured. Then the brush was lifted from the already sore cheek and returned
a split second later with a loud crack. Tiffany instantly lost all her
poise and howled, the sting from the hairbrush was much sharper than from
her mother's hand and on top of that every nerve ending on her compact
bottom was already throbbing from the hand spanking. Crack, crack, crack,
crack, crack, crack, the brush struck those bare defenseless buttocks. Her
bottom cheeks on fire Tiffany cried out in distress while her hands clawed
the bed spread. Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, the brush struck
again and again. In all her twelve years Tiffany, now reduced to sobs, had
never felt anything sting like that. Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack,
crack, relentlessly the hard wood set fire to the poor girl's behind.
Tiffany, her early resolve evaporated completely, was blubbering and
struggling to catch her breath. "Now honey you called me a very bad name a
minute ago. I want you to apologize for that," said Irene in a soft,
soothing tone. "I (sob) I (sob) I apologize," gasped Tiffany. "Do you
really mean it Tiff?" "Yes (sob) I (sob) do." "That's good. Now brace
yourself Tiff, six more and we are through," crack, crack, crack, crack,
crack, crack, the polished wood hit the already well spanked gluteus muscles
over and over. The girl's bottom was deep vermilion now as she sobbed,
gasped and blubbered. Tears poured from the girl's eyes, mucous leaked from
her nose and saliva dripped from her lips. "Its okay, its okay," cooed
Irene as she gathered the girl's heaving body, which was wracked with sobs,
in her arms and hugged her close. "Mommy had to do it, it was the only way
to get through to you dearest one. I love you more than life, but I
realize now some things never change. My mother was right, sometimes harsh
measures must be employed no matter how much you love someone, you
understand don't you sweetness." "Yes (sob) mommy (sob) I'm sorry I was
so bad." "There, there my darling," said Irene, "cry all you want and
then go to sleep. Tomorrow we will start over with a clean slate and let
all bygones, be bygones."
Half an hour later Irene left Tiffany. The mother was exhausted but still
able to smile to herself that her child had rolled over and gone to sleep on
her tummy just as she had done after a session like this with her mom so
many years ago.
________________________________________________________________________
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garak99(Bill)
Bill
Steven
LOL, well that is what I like, a strict mommy with a sense of humor.
Seriously, I enjoyed this story a lot. Thanks for posting it.
Steven (who just loves those Mommy/daughter hairbrush spanking
stories)
tarquin grant <tarq...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:2000071119150...@hotmail.com...
>
> Tiffany's First Spanking (F/F)
> A Story By Tarquin
Kate438
spanking in their life. Great story, Tarquin
Kate
wooz
Kate438 <kat...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:20000712005034...@ng-fj1.aol.com...
> Spanko or not, IMO every ornery adolescent should get at least one no
nonsense
> spanking in their life. Great story, Tarquin
"Their" life or "her" life Kate?
Wooz the curious
Kate438
Kate438
>> Spanko or not, IMO every ornery adolescent should get at least one no
>nonsense
>> spanking in their life. Great story, Tarquin>
Wooz asks:
>"Their" life or "her" life Kate?>
Kate replies:
I should have gotten the spanking of my life (as a teen) instead of no spanking
at all..
Hope that satisfies your curiosity, Wooz
Kate