Eavesdropping
Copyright December, 1999
Paris Annette Morreau
All rights reserved

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Ryan threw open the door to his bedroom and ran down the
hall to the staircase.  He stopped short when he saw the
bannister, short.  He looked up and down the hallway for his
mother, as though he had somehow missed her when he walked out of
his room. He listened carefully for any signs that she was near.
He would ride it if she was not around.  He climbed on top of it,
straddling it like a horse, and began his descent.  Halfway down,
he heard his mother's voice.  A low murmur, no clear words, and
then ..."naughty".  He stopped and got off the bannister in one
motion.  He crouched on the staircase and looked through the oak
rails into the living room.  He could see his mother sitting on
the couch.  Her face was obscured in shadow and partly hidden by
a table lamp.  Ryan could see that she was talking on the phone.
He watched and listened.

Whoever is on the phone with her must be talking now, Ryan
reasoned, since his mother was not speaking. She was sitting back
on the couch, wearing blue denim shorts and a pale pink t-shirt.
Her long slender legs were outstretched and her bare feet,
crossed at her ankles, were up on the coffee table. 

     She said "hm mm" over and over.  She uncrossed her ankles
and appeared to be looking at her toes.  Ryan looked, too.  There
was a bottle of nailpolish on the coffee table.  Her toenails had
been freshly polished in pale pink, nearly the shade of her t-
shirt.  She wiggled her toes back and forth, spread them open,
relaxed them; crossed her ankles again. She stretched one arm and
held up her hand.  Ryan could not see her fingernails, but had no
doubt they were also freshly polished in that same shade of pink.
He wondered if she was wearing that lipstick he liked on her.
Too pale to be called pink, it seemed to be the exact shade of
her lips.  And it was glossy.  She always looked like she was
smiling when she wore it and like she was going to kiss him.
She'd look at Ryan and he'd smile back at her, looking at her
mouth, waiting for her light kiss. 

     "Hm mm," his mother said again.  "Lydia, I understand what
you're going through.  I've seen it and heard it countless times.
I really can't give you any advice, though.  I've done that with
other friends and it was always a mistake.  The best I can do is
to tell you what works for me."

     It's just woman talk, Ryan thought to himself.  Maybe he had
only thought he had heard her say "naughty".  Maybe it was guilt,
maybe it was fear, but when he heard her say that word it always
meant a spanking for him.  He looked at her bare legs again.  She
had a long lap and strong legs.  And a hand that could stroke his
face as gently as a summer breeze and yet when she used it to
spank his bare bottom, it felt like it was made of wood. He
shivered and quickly went through his mind for any recent
spankable behavior.  Except for sliding down the bannister, he
could think of nothing and she had not seen him do that.

     "My son is 12 years old," Ryan heard his mother say and his
heart began to pound.  "When he disobeys, talks back, is
disrespectful or in any other way naughty, I turn him over my
knee, pull down his pants and spank his bare bottom."

     Ryan broke out in a cold sweat and felt lightheaded.  He put
his head down on one of the stairs.  His mother was simply
explaining her form of discipline to a friend in a casual,
matter-of-fact way.  She was not angry and yet Ryan swore that
she put a special emphasis on the word "naughty." 

     His mother paused while she listened to her friend.  "I know
you don't believe in spanking.  You've told me that you have
tried talking with her, grounding her, taking away some
privilege, but despite that, she is consistently naughty."

     Ryan gasped audibly and clapped his hand over his mouth.  He
stared at his mother's form and waited an endless couple of
seconds to see if there was any sign that she had heard him.  She
spoke again.

     "Lydia, I'm not criticizing you or your daughter, but I've
seen her when she has talked back to you, insulted you, refused
to obey you, done everything, it seemed to me, but ask you to
spank her.  I thought then that if she had been mine, I would
have pulled up her frilly dress, pulled her little panties down
and spanked her bottom as pink as her sassy tongue.  Now, again,
that's just me.  I'm not advising you.  I just know that in my
own situation, spanking my Ryan keeps him in line."

     Whose mother is that? Ryan wondered.  Whose mother now knows
that he still gets spanked?  Will she run out of patience with
her daughter, whoever she is, and tell her that Ryan gets
spanked.  Will she say "I should just spank you the way Ryan's
mother spanks him?"  Will she say "Ryan's Mom spanks his bare
bottom when he's naughty?"  She'll come to school and tell
everyone, whoever this blabbermouthed girl is.  I'll be ruined,
Ryan thought miserably.  Butterflies fluttered in his tummy, his
heart pounded, his hands tightly gripped the bannister.

     "I'm not suggesting that you do this, but just to let you
know what I do, for example, a couple of weeks ago Ryan, instead
of doing his chores, was in his room reading one of his adventure
books.  Now I encourage him to read and I'm happy he does, but
reading about King Arthur and his Knights comes after chores, not
before.  He disobeyed me.  He knew it and he knew what the
consequence would be.  When he deliberately breaks a rule, as far
as I am concerned, he is willing and is even asking to take the
known consequence.  And the known consequence is a spanking.  I
told him to put the book down.  I told him to stand up.  I sat on
his bed.  I pulled his jeans down and turned him over my knees.
I pulled his little cotton briefs down and spanked his chubby
little bottom until he kicked and cried and promised to be a good
boy.  Since then, he's been like a junior knight in shining
armor."

     Ryan closed his eyes.  I'm dead, he thought.  That woman
will tell her daughter and she will tell everyone.  I'll never
live it down.  By tomorrow the whole school will know and I'll
have to fight every boy who teases me just to keep my honor.
Then I'll get into trouble for fighting and my mother will spank
me and everyone will know and they'll tease me and I'll have to
defend myself and I'll get spanked again and then ....  Oh man,
it's never gonna end.

     "I realize that, Lydia.  I'm just telling you what I do.
What works for me.  And Ryan.  I'll just say one more thing.  You
said that you've tried everything and nothing works." She let
that sink in.  "There's one thing you haven't tried.  It's up to
you but, at this point, what have you got to lose? " She listened
for a moment.  "Well, I'm glad to hear that.  Hm?  Ah!  She's
home.  Perfect timing.  If you need any pointers, let me know.
And let me know how it goes, too.  Good luck.  Bye." 

     Ryan heard his mother hang up the phone.  He let out the
breath he had been holding. 

     "Come in here, Ryan," his mother said in her soft low voice.

     Ryan jumped; his heart beat wildly.  He stood on shaking
legs and walked down the stairs and into the living room.

     "Hi, Mom," he choked in a hoarse whisper the greeting he
wanted to be bright.

     "Were you listening to me talk on the phone?" she asked.

     "Well, not really.  I mean I heard you when I was coming
down the stairs and I could make out some of the words."

     "Are you telling me that you didn't try to slide down the
bannister and then, realizing I was in here, you stopped, sat
down and listened to every word I said?"

     Ryan had heard of x-ray vision, but never x-ray hearing.  He
was convinced his mother could hear through lead.  And how could
she have seen him on the bannister?

     Ryan hung his head and shrugged.  "I didn't mean to," he
murmured. 

     "So, sitting down on a stair, settling in comfortably, and
listening intently to my conversation was not deliberate on your
part?  Were you doing something else on that stair besides
listening to me?"

     "No," Ryan admitted.

     "What have I told you about eavesdropping?" she asked.

     "That I can't do it," Ryan said, staring at the carpet.

     "But you did it anyway."

     Ryan nodded. 

     "That's disobedience, is it not?"

     Ryan nodded again.

     "And what is disobedience called in our home?" she inquired
in her soft voice.

     "A spankable offense," Ryan recited.  He looked up at his
mother, his large dark eyes as wide, as innocent and as pitiful
as he could make them.  "I'm really sorry, Mommy.  Please don't
spank me this time.  I'll never do it again.  I promise. It's
just that I heard you say naughty and I froze and I couldn't
move.  I really didn't mean to listen."

     Ryan's mother pulled her son's jeans down and patted her
thighs. 

     "Over my knees, my naughty boy.  You disobeyed and I'm going
to spank your little round white bottom.  When you do something
naughty, knowing full well that a spanking will be the result,
then you are asking me to spank you.  And that's what I'm going
to do.  Spank your naughty bottom."

     Ryan's heart leapt at each mention of the dreaded word.

     She pulled him over her knees.  She pulled his briefs down.
She spanked each plump bottom cheek five times each and five in
the middle. 

     "I'm spanking your naughty bottom at the same moment that
Lydia is spanking her naughty girl.  "Two naughty bottoms spanked
at the same time."

     She spanked the plumpest part of her son's bottom briskly,
just hard enough to sting and shade to pink.  Jolts of tingling
pleasure jarred him each time his mother said naughty.

     "Mommy, oooh Mommy!  Stoooop!" Ryan pleaded in a voice that
begged her to go on.  He kicked his legs, propelling his body
against his mother's thighs.

     "Lydia's daughter is getting her first spanking," she said
as she spanked all over Ryan's bare bottom. Her little panties
are at her knees, her bottom is bare, she's kicking and crying
and pleading.  And she's soooo surprised that her mommy is
spanking her." she said, spanking at the tops of her son's
thighs.  "Do you remember the first time I spanked you?  It was
just two years ago.  That's when I realized what you needed to
keep you behaving like a good little boy.  That's also when I saw
how perfectly your bottom had developed and I knew that it was
made to be spanked.  Remember?  You were supposed to be asleep
and I caught you with a flashlight under your blankets reading.
I took you right out of bed, pulled your jammies down and spanked
your bare bottom.  Oh, how you kicked and squirmed!  You pleaded
and cried.  You promised never to disobey me again.  Your little
bottom wiggled and bounced each time I spanked.  It still does!
I spanked and watched as it turned from a little white cottontail
to deep pink.  Just the way it is now." 

     She briefly stroked her son's warm bottom, tender flesh
pink, while she thought of that first time.

     "Up now, Ryan, and sit on Mommy's lap."  Ryan got up and
quickly snuggled close to his mother.

     "Remember the first time? After your spanking?  I sat you on
my lap and hugged you.  You cuddled close to me, your jammies
kicked right off your body, your bottom was bare.  I patted it,"
she softly reminisced while she patted Ryan's still stinging
bottom.  "You cried and said you were sorry.  I told you I knew
you were, but if you were naughty again, I'd spank you again.
That if you were naughty I'd have to believe you wanted to be
spanked.  You've asked me to spank you many times over the last
two years.  Right on your bare bottom," she said, lightly
smacking each warm cheek. 

     "Owww," Ryan murmured, his arms wrapped tightly around his
mother. 

     She smiled and spanked his bottom again.  "You're such a
naughty boy," she whispered in his ear.