Play Ball
August, 1999, Paris Annette Morreau
All rights reserved.  This story, or parts thereof,
may not be reproduced in any form without permission

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Jane stood at the foot of the staircase near the entryway of her home, pulled her chestnut hair into a knot on the top of her head, tucked her pink t-shirt into her blue denim shorts.  She
looked up the stairs toward her son's bedroom and the ear- splitting shouts and cheers that resounded throughout the house.  She sighed and shook her head before climbing the steps.  Since she knew she could not be heard above the screaming voices of her son and his friend, David, when she got to Paul's bedroom door, she simply opened it without bothering to knock.

"Paul?" she called to her son, who was sitting with his friend at the computer.  "Paul?" she called again, a little louder.  The boys sat with their backs to her, playing a game that involved cut-throat competition.

     Jane sighed again, her patience already at an end after having heard the boys' caterwauling for more than an hour.  She walked over to Paul and placed both hands firmly on his
shoulders.

     "Unh!" Paul jumped, gasped and turned around.  "Mom!" he cried, making the word into at least three syllables, "you could make a little noise. You don't hafta sneak up on me," he
complained, his heart pounding.

     Jane looked at her 12-year-old son who was the very image of her with his dark hair and rich brown eyes. 

     "I called out your name twice from not more than ten feet across this room," she explained evenly.  "You couldn't hear me because you and David were screaming loudly enough to wake the dead." 

     She tousled his hair.  She reached out to David's blond head, but he backed up. 

     "And that goes for you, too," she said,her hand outstretched. She cupped Paul's chin in her hand. "You and David go outside and play.  It's too nice a day to be cooped up inside."

     "No!" Paul shouted.  "We're playing this ...uh, oh, okay, Mom," he quickly amended when he noticed the look on his mother's face.  He stood up.  "Come on, David.  Let's go outside."

     Jane put her hands on her son's shoulders again and looked directly into his eyes. 

     "Did I hear you say 'no' to me?" she asked, her voice soft and low.  "Did I hear you shout 'no' to me?"

     "Um, I didn't mean it like it sounded," Paul explained, careful to neither directly admit nor deny having said the word.  "What I meant was could we just finish the game before we go
outside," he said.  "On this nice day."

     Jane stared at her son for several seconds.  "No," she said as she shook her head.

     "Okay," Paul readily agreed.  "Come on, David, we're outta here."

     The boys raced out of the room.  Jane looked after her son, making sure he was gone before she smiled.  "I've still got it," she murmured.

     They were halfway across Paul's front yard, heading toward his friend's house, before David spoke.  "What happened?" he asked.  "We were gonna finish the game and then you just caved," he said pulling up his baggy black shorts and shrugging his oversized red t-shirt back into place.

     "I learned a long, long time ago not to mess with my mother when she gives me that look," Paul explained.

     "Oh, what's she gonna do?" David asked, "ground you for a week?  Don't you know how to get out of that by now?"

     "That's not what she ...," Paul began, "well, yeah, I can, but why hassle it?.  Let's just play the game at your house."

     "Can't," David said.  "Computer crashed.  That's why I was at your house."

     "Oh, maaaan!  Now what?" Paul asked.

     David shrugged.  "I guess we could toss the ball around.  Tryouts are comin' up."

     "Yeah, I guess," Paul reluctantly agreed.  "Okay, let's go over to the batting cage."

     "I'm not gonna walk all the way over there," David said, stopping in his tracks. "Let's just play here."

     Paul looked around.  "We can't play here.  My mom said not to play so close to the house; we might break something," he explained.

     "My mom, my mom," David mimicked in a girlish falsetto.  "Ooooh, he's afraid of his mommy," he said disdainfully.   Lighten up, dude.  'Sides, the way you throw, you couldn't hit
the house even if you were aimin' at it."

     "Oh, yeah?" Paul countered.  "I can hit the dead center ofyour mitt without touching a single finger."

     "Yeah!" David scoffed.  "Right!  "This I gotta see.  I'll get the ball."  David trotted across the lawn and into his house.  A minute later he came out with a softball and two mitts, one of which he handed to Paul.  "Let's see what ya got," he said as he gave the ball to his friend.

     David backed up until he was at one end of the long expanse of lawn and Paul was at the other.  He lifted his mitt-covered hand.

     "Okay! Plaaaaaay baaaaaal!" David screamed.

     Paul stared so hard at his friend's mitt that he put David's house, which was to his friend's right, completely out of focus.  "Keep your eye on the mitt," he murmured to himself, "on the
mitt.  Throw the ball directly into the mitt."  He wound up, pulled his arm back and threw the ball with all his might directly at David's mitt.  He watched it turn, as though it had a
mind of its own, and crash through the big bay window of David's living room.  David stood with his mitt still up as though somehow the ball would come out of the house and find its way
into his hand.  Paul stared at the ball until it sailed through the window and then he looked at the large hole it had created.  Even after the ball had landed somewhere inside the house, he
could still hear the shrill, deafening sound of glass breaking.  His face blushed, but it was his bottom that felt the heat.  Though his mouth was open, he couldn't think of a single word bad
enough to say.

"Oh, way to go!" David shouted before he burst into laughter.  "Is that your curve ball?" he asked. He doubled over, hands on his thighs and laughed until he was out of breath.

     Paul was still staring at the broken window when David's mother threw open the front door.   Carol walked outside and looked at the hole and broken glass that had been her bay window.
She turned and looked at her laughing son and at his silent friend.

     "Who is responsible for this?" she asked. 

     David kept on laughing.  Paul was speechless.

     "It's not funny, David," she said angrily.

     David nodded.  "Yes, it is.  You shoulda seen it," he gasped.  "Paul threw it straight and then it was like it had wings.  It just changed directions and flew through the window,"
he explained, gesturing with his arm.

     "Paul?" Carol asked, turning to her son's friend.  "You broke my window?"

     Paul stared at the window and nodded.

     "David, go to your room right this minute!" Carol ordered her son.  "You've been told a hundred times not to play ball near the house."

     "Me?!" David shouted.  "He's the one that threw the ball. I didn't break the stupid window."

     "I said go to your room."

     "Oh man, that sucks!  I shouldn't have to go to my room 'cause Paul broke the window.  Send him to my room."

     "David, we'll talk about this later.  Now go," Carol said firmly.

     "Jeeze," David sighed as he threw the mitt on the ground and mumbled under his breath as he walked into the house.

     Paul stared after him in stunned disbelief.  If he had ever spoken to his mother like that, well, he didn't even want to think about what she would do.

     "Come on, Paul," Carol said.  "Let's go tell your mother what happened."

     Paul's heart began to hammer in his chest.  "Do we have to?" he asked. "I'll pay for it.  Honest.  I can ..."

     "I know that you have also been told not to play ball near the house.  If I am going to ground David, who didn't even throw the ball, then I think you should get the same.  Of course,
that's up to your mother, but I'm pretty sure certain that she will not let you get off scot free."

Paul hung his head and walked alongside Carol across the lawns of the adjacent houses. 

     Grounded? he thought miserably.  I wish!

     Jane opened her front door just as her neighbor and son reached the porch.

     "Hi!" Jane called out to Carol. 

     "Hi, Jane.  I'm afraid this is not really a fun kind of visit today.  The boys were playing ball in front yard again and now my big bay window is broken."

     Jane turned to Paul with her most serious face. The "spanking look" is how Paul thought of it.  He dared another quick look and confirmed his worse fears.

     "I just don't know what we're going to do with these boys," Carol said.  "I don't know how many times I've grounded and lectured David for playing ball in the front yard.  I'll ground him again but, honestly, I don't relish being nagged for the rest of the week about letting him off the hook.  Does Paul hound you like that when you ground him?"

     "No," Jane said,  "Because I don't ground him.  I spank him.  And that's just what I'm going to do now."

     "You spank him?" Carol asked in disbelief.

     Paul blushed every shade of red in the time it took his mother to say the word "spank."  He was certain that Carol would tell her son and then David would make fun of him for the rest of
his life.  And school!  He'll tell everyone at school!  Paul hung his head in abject misery.  My life is over, he thought.

     "Yes, I do," Jane confirmed as she took Paul's hand and led him into the house.  "Come in, Carol, and watch me."

     "No!  Mom, no!" Paul begged.  "Not in front of her.  Please!"

     Jane pulled her son over to the sofa; Carol hesitantly followed.

     "Naughty little boys have nothing to say about how their mommies carry out discipline," she informed her son to his blushing dismay.  "And you are a naughty little boy," she scolded.

     Jane sat down on the sofa and reached up to unsnap Paul's jeans.

     Paul jumped back.  "Not bare!" he shouted.

     Jane grabbed her son's wrist and pulled him back.  "Do you want me to get the paddle young man?  I"ll spank your bare bottom with the paddle," she promised.  You are in enough trouble as it is.  You don't want any more."

     Carol stood a couple of feet away from the sofa, facing Paul's back.  She placed her hands in the back pockets of her snug jeans, straining her white t-shirt across her small breasts.  Bare? she thought.  She had not seen her own son's bare bottom since he was six and had decided that he was old enough to bathe and dress himself. 

     Jane quickly unzipped her son's jeans and tugged them down.  Paul looked at the floor and fought back tears, his face crimson with humiliation.  His mother pulled him over her bare legs and quickly pulled down his white briefs, uncovering his lilly-white and boyishly plump bottom.  She slid his underpants down his hard thighs to his knees. Paul crossed his ankles and vowed to keep his legs together. 

     Jane raised her hand and smacked it down onto one defenseless bottom cheek and then the other. 

     Paul began to squirm.  His mother was starting his spanking with hard smacks instead of the warm up that gradually progressed to the sharp bites he was already feeling.  He clamped his teeth together to keep from crying out.

     Carol winced at the sound of Jane's hand as it smacked Paul's bare flesh and at the red splotch on his bottom.   

     Jane held her son firmly at his waist and spanked his bottom quickly and hard. 

     "How many times have I told you not to play ball so near the house?"  she asked as she spanked.

     "Oooooh!"  was Paul's response.

     "Answer me!" Jane insisted.  "How many times?" she asked, spanking the middle fleshy arch of her son's bare bottom.

     "Owww!  I don't knowwwww!"
    
     Jane spanked down to the tops of Paul's thighs. 

     "Even if I had only told you once, you still disobeyed me, didn't you?" she asked, spanking the curved underside of his bottom.

     "Yessss!"  Paul cried.

     "And haven't I told you more than once?" Jane began spanking up her son's bottom, past the fleshy arch to a place not so well padded.

     "Owwww!  Uhhhh!"  Paul shrieked and unlocked his legs.  "Yesssss!" he cried.

"And still you did it anyway," Jane said spanking in hot bites back down Paul's bottom to that chubbiest part again.  "Why would you disobey me?" she asked.

     "Owwww!  'Cause ... oooooh!"

     "'cause' why?  Answer me!" Jane insisted, spanking harder now.

     "Ohhhh! David said I was afraid of my mommyyyyy."

     "And you should be when it comes to being spanked.  You knew I'd keep my promise to spank you if you disobeyed me, didn't you?" Jane calmly asked.

     Carol could just hear her son taunting his friend with the 'afraid-of-your-mommy' wisecrack. As she listened to her friend scold and watched her spank Paul, Carol began to visualize herself scolding and spanking David.  It was her hand she saw coming down and smacking her own pre-teen's bare and vulnerable bottom.  It was her voice she heard scolding him for all his naughtiness.

     "Didn't you?" Jane asked again.  "Didn't you know?"

     "Yessss!"  Paul wailed.

     "But you did it anyway, knowing you were going to get spanked.  That was a naughty thing to do, Paul, and not very bright, either."  Jane scolded.

     "Owwww!  He didn't know I was going to get spanked.  Owwww!   I didn't want to tell hiiiiim.  He thought I'd just get grounded.  Owwww!  He said that's what happens to him, owwww! and he can always talk his way out of iiiiit,"  Paul defended himself even as he cried out under the assault of his mother's hand. 

     Carol's eyes widened in surprise.  She glanced at Jane, who had paused in spanking her son, and saw that she was looking back.  Carol's blush of embarrassment quickly turned into an
angry red.  She was angry with herself for not having firmly disciplined her son, chagrined that if Jane knew, everyone did.  And she was irked at David, if, for no other reason, to have
someone to share the blame.

     "Well," Jane said, spanking again, "that is not what happens to you, is it?"

     "Nooooo!"

     "And you knew it, didn't you?" Jane asked as she spanked, the warm palm of her hand spanking Paul's hot bottom.

     "Yessss!" Paul confessed.

     "David is not your mommy, is he?" Jane asked.

     "Noooo, owwww!"

     So, he is not the one you obey, is he?  Jane asked, again spanking one blazing cheek.

     Carol's body tensed as she remembered all the naughty things David had done.  There was a kind of desire that built in her while she watched Paul being spanked that made her itch to spank her own son.  Her heart beat a little faster even as she thought about it.  She felt her body moving in time to the spanks Jane was landing on Paul's bottom.

"Noooo!  I obey youuuu, ohhhh!"  It all made perfect sense to Paul now that he was being spanked bare bottomed over his mother's knee.  "I'm sorryyyy!" he screamed as he felt his
mother's hand smack his bottom again.  "I'll never do it again," he vowed.

     "That's what you said the last time I caught you playing ball right in front of our house," Jane reminded her son as she spanked him again.  "Isn't it?"

     "Yesss!" Paul had to confess.  "But this time I mean iiiit," Paul howled as he kicked his legs.  "I won't listen to David agaiiiiinnn!" he promised.  "I'll rememberrrr!"

     Paul's entire bottom was cherry red right down to the tops of his thighs.

     Jane gently stroked her son's burning flesh.  "I'm sure you will remember this time. I'm going to help you to remember."  She smacked one blazing bottom cheek.

     "Owwww!"

     "We are going to go to the bank today," she informed her son as she spanked his other cheek, "and we are going to withdraw from your account, the money necessary to pay for Carol's window," she said, swatting Paul's bottom again. 

     "Okayyyy!" Paul quickly agreed. 

     At this point, Carol was in awe of the power and control Jane had over her son.  He was truly, sincerely willing to do anything she said without question.  Jane never raised her voice,
never threatened.  She just spanked as she firmly scolded and
calmly extracted promises from him.

     Jane soothed her soft hand over her son's burning bottom.

     Paul slumped over his mother's lap and wept. 

     "And," Jane continued as she raised her hand, "you are going to apologize to Carol for breaking her window," she insisted as she heartily spanked one blazing chub.

     "Uhhhh!" Paul sobbed. "I wiiiill!"

     "And," Jane continued, landing another sharp smack, "if David doesn't know that you get your bare bottom spanked when you are naughty, he's going to find out," Jane promised.

     "Ohhhh noooooo!" Paul wailed.

     "No?" Jane asked, rapidly spanking her son's bottom in hard smacks.  "Don't you mean 'yes,'" she asked.

     Carol was convinced Paul did mean yes. She was also certain that David would find out but that by the time he did, he would never be able to use it against Paul.  He would have his own
story to tell.

     "Yes!  I mean yeeees!" Paul agreed. 

     Jane stroked her son's bottom.  "Now tell me the last thing I need to hear before I stop spanking you."

     "Please, Mom," Paul begged in a whisper.

     Carol frowned, curious to know what Paul so obviously did not want to say out loud and in her presence.

     Jane brought down several more hearty spanks onto her son's hot bottom. "Tell me," she demanded softly.

     "I'm sorry, Mommy," he whispered as quietly as he could.

     "Excuse me?  Did you say something?" she asked, spanking each chubby cheek again.

     "I'm sorry, Mommy," Paul said a little louder.

     Jane stroked her son's hot bottom cheeks.  "You're sorry, ... what?" she asked. 

     "Mommy," Paul repeated out loud. 

     Carol raised her eyebrows in surprise.  "Oooh", she softly breathed, her heart pounding. 

     "That's better," Jane said before landing a final biting spank.  "And remember that you are not through yet.  You are going to march your little bottom upstairs to your room and wait
for me. You have some paddle time coming, little boy," Jane warned her son.

     "Ohhhh," Paul sighed through his tears.

     "Stand up," Jane ordered.

     She helped her son off her lap. He stood with his blazing red bottom facing Carol.  Jane reached down and pulled up his briefs and jeans, but did not bother zipping them.  She stood up
and hugged him.

     "I know that was a tough spanking for you, honey," she whispered into his ear. "And you know it's not over yet.  We've been through this ball playing thing before and you didn't learn.
This time you will," she promised.  "Now apologize to Carol and then go on up to your room."

     Paul turned his tear-stained face to David's mother.

     "I'm sorry for breaking your window, Carol.  I didn't mean to.  I just can't throw very well," he explained.

     Jane smacked her son's jean-covered bottom.

     "Uhhh!" he shrieked and jumped.  "But I'll never do it again," he said quickly.  "I promise.  I'll never play ball in your yard, or anyone's yard, ever again." 

     "Okay, Paul," Carol nodded and smiled.  "I believe you."

     He looked at his mother, who nodded her approval.  He held onto his jeans and stiffly climbed the stairs to his room.

Jane crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Carol, who stared back. 

     "I'm sorry," Jane finally said.  "If I had given Paul a proper spanking the last time, he would have known better than to play ball in the yard today.  I can assure you, it will never
happen again."

     "Well," Carol began, and blushed.  "I don't know what to do.  I've never spanked David," she said unnecessarily, hoping her raging desire to do so would not show.  Surely no parent longed to spank her child.

     Jane shrugged and looked away. 

     "I'm not sure, ..." she feigned, "you know, he's 12 now," Carol explained. "How ...?"

     "Carol, I'm not going to tell you how to discipline your son," Jane said.  "That's entirely up to you.  All I know is that a good spanking helps keep Paul in line.  I do it because it works.  Only once did I ground him.  For a week.  It was shortly after his twelfth birthday and I thought he might be too old to spank.  He started whining and pleading with me to let him off.
By the end of the second day, I was really tired of hearing it.  So, without a word, I pulled him over my knees and spanked his little bottom red hot and told him he wasn't grounded anymore. After that, whenever he'd do something wrong, he'd actually ask to be grounded.  No way.  A bare bottomed spanking over mommy's knees lets him know who's in charge.  Carol," Jane continued placing her arm on her friend's shoulder, "at the age of 12 they only think they're all grown up."

     "I must admit that while I was watching you spank Paul, I thought of how satisfying it would be to spank David," Carol admitted.  "I'm going to do it!" she decided.  "You spanked Paul
in front of me, so I'm going to spank David in front of you.  I mean, that is, if you don't mind?"

     "Not at all," Jane reassured her.  "That's what I call a double whammy.  First of all, he gets his bare bottom spanked and then there's the added embarrassment of it taking place in front
of someone else.  That will remind him for a good long time to behave himself."

     Carol nodded. "Okay.  I'm going to get him and bring him over here."

     Carol left Jane's house and fairly trotted across the expanse of lawn that separated the homes.  She burst into her living room to find her son sprawled on the sofa in front of the
television.
    
     "Didn't I tell you to go to your room?" Carol asked.

     "There's nothin' to do in there.  Computer's crashed," he complained.

     "I don't care about the computer or the fact that you don't have anything to do.  I told you to go to your room."

     "Jeeze!  Chiiill, man!" David shouted.

     "You get off that couch and come with me right now!" Carol ordered, her voice low and angry.

David looked up in surprise.  That was a voice he had not heard before.  He made a show of dragging himself off the sofa and standing up.  A flicker of apprehension in his bright eyes
betrayed his bravado.

     "Out the door," Carol commanded, pointing, her flashing eyes, a deeper blue than her son's, never leaving his face.  "We're going to Paul's house."

     David pushed his blond hair off his forehead, and shuffled casually across the living room and out the door.  If he had to go to Paul's house, then whatever his mother had in mind couldn't be too bad, he reasoned.  She'll probably just yell so she can put on a good show for Paul's mom, he thought.  He decided he would just stare at her with the most bored expression he could manage while she yelled at him.

     Carol followed a couple of steps behind.  She looked at the back of his head and stole quick and frequent glimpses of his bottom.  Or at least that general area.  In those baggy shorts,
it was hard to tell just where his bottom was.
    
     Jane was standing in the doorway of her house waiting for Carol and David.

     "Come on in," she invited with a sly smile.

     David looked back at his mother, who nodded.  He eased into the entryway and his mother stepped in and then walked past him.  David looked around the room for Paul and wondered if his friend had managed to get out of being yelled at.  Where was he, anyhow?  Jeeze, David thought, Paul throws the ball and nothin' even happens to him.  I do nothing wrong and I gotta get yelled at in front of his mom.  Sucks, man. His carefully constructed expression of boredom hard turned to one of belligerence.

     Carol grabbed her son's wrist and pulled him toward the couch.

     "Hey!" David blurted, still angry, while attempting to free himself from his mother's grip.

     Carol held on tightly.  She sat down on the sofa and tugged, but David pulled back. 

     "What's going on?" he demanded to know.  "Let go 'a me!" 

     Carol tugged, David pulled back.  Jane stepped over and gave David a little push and the boy fell over his mother's knee.

     "Ooh!" he grunted and immediately tried to get up. 

     "Oh no you don't," Carol said, holding firmly onto her son.  "You've had this coming for a long time."

     "What?" David asked.  "What coming?  What are you talking about?  Let me up!"

     Instead Carol grasped the waistband of her son's baggy shorts, quickly and smoothly pulling them down.

     "Hey!  Hey!  Cut it out!" David shouted.

     Jane tried for a few moments to believe that David was merely being properly disciplined for the first time, but she finally could no longer deny that she was actually happy that her
son's friend was finally getting what was coming to him.

     Paul, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling in dreaded anticipation of the paddle, looked toward the door.  "That sounds like David," he said aloud of the noise that seemed to be coming
from his living room.  He got out of bed, tiptoed to his door and opened it as quietly as he could.

     "I will not let you up, David, and I will not cut it out."  Carol slipped her fingers inside the waistband of her son's snug white briefs and began to tug them down.  "What I am going to do
is spank your bare bottom."

     "What?  No!  You can't do that!" David hollered and began struggling and kicking in protest.

     Paul's heart began to hammer in his chest.  "Wow!" he breathed.  "David's going to get it."

     Carol pushed David's briefs down his thighs to his knees.  Jane stood where Carol had stood when Paul was being spanked.  It afforded her the best view of David's entire chubby bottom.

     David's mother began with quick, sharp spanks all over her son's round white bottom. They could not have even stung the boy, but David howled and kicked as though his pudgy chubs were on fire.

     "Yes!" Paul hissed with real satisfaction.  "It's about time!"

Jane smiled, despite herself.  Carol had a look of real determination on her face.  David was going to be over his mother's knee for a long time.

     "You have disobeyed me for the last time, David," Carol said.  "And I've had it with your naughty behavior.  How dare you get sassy with me?" she scolded. 

     Carol spanked harder now, landing alternating smacks on each of David's upturned cheeks.  A bite on the right, a barb on the left and back again. 

     "Owwww!  Cut it ouuuuut!"  David screamed, his legs flailing.

     "I will not cut it out," Carol again informed her son as she spanked.  "I'm going to spank your little bottom until I'm convinced you'll never be naughty again."

     "Yeah!" Paul murmured.  "Don't stop now.  I'm not going to be convinced for a long time," he whispered.

     "Owww!  "I'm nooooot!" David insisted.

     "No?  I've told you not to play ball in the yard, haven't I?" Carol asked her son as
she smacked the flat of her palm against David's chubby bottom cheek.

     "Owww!  I didn't throw the baaaaal!" David defended himself as he squirmed on his mother's lap.

     "That's not what I asked you." Carol delivered a rapid-fire series of smacks on each side of her son's bottom.  "Now answer me!"

     "That's not what she asked you, David," Paul whispered.  Better answer her or your mean ol' mommy is going spank you some more," he fairly sang.

     "Yeeeees!  Owwww!  You told meeeee!  But I didn't throw the baaaal!" David insisted.

     SPANK!

     "You disobeyed me.  You talked back to me.  I told you to go to your room and you didn't do that, either, and then you got sassy with me all over again," Carol scolded,spanking her son's
hot supple flesh, his legs kicking, his fists pounding the sofa.  "That is naughty behavior, David, naughty!  Do you understand me?"

     Jane had always thought that if David had been her son, she would have spanked that kind of behavior right out of him.  Part of her wished that she could be the one spanking that chubby
bottom, but she also felt something that was deeply satisfying that it was his own mother who was finally delivering a spanking the boy would not forget.

     SPANK!  SMACK!  "I asked you a question," Carol said as she smacked her son's bouncing bottom.

     "Owwww!  Yeeees!  I do understand!  Stooooop!"

     "No, he doesn't," Paul muttered.  "Spank him some more."

     Carol raised her hand again, smacking it down with real vigor.  She was getting into a rhythm now, rather than a haphazard series of spanks.  Each swat that landed on David's red and burning bottom was specifically placed and timed.  A sharp smack to one chubby cheek, a couple of seconds to let it travel, and then another to David's other chub.  Like an expert, she allowed her son to feel the sting from each spank completely before bringing down another. 

     Carol rested her hand on her son's blushing bottom between the well-timed spanks and used that time to scold the sassy boy.

     Jane saw that David's bottom was similar to her own son's.  Little boyish, not yet the sculpted form it would become in his late teens.  It was still pliable and so was he.  As tough as
they talk and as rough as they play at this age, she thought, they still need their mommies.  They may not admit it to the other boys they 'hang' with, but if they get hurt or if they are
tired or hungry, its their mommies they want for comfort and nurture.  The same mommies who scold them and spank their little bottoms as Carol was doing now.

     "You deliberately encouraged Paul to disobey his mother," Carol chided.  "You teased him about being 'afraid of his mommy,' didn't you?" She lifted her hand from her son's bottom and
smacked it down again, leaving another angry splotch of red on David's wiggling and burning bottom.

     "Yeeees!" David admitted.  "I didn't mean toooo.  I didn't mean iiiiit!"

     "He did too mean it," Paul nearly blurted.  "He's always saying stuff like that. Spank him again."

     "No?" Carol asked, her stinging palm on her son's hot bottom.  So, who's afraid of his mommy now?" she asked, spanking again.

     Jane giggled, despite her best effort not to.  How quickly the seat of power changes when a bottom is being spanked, she thought.

     Paul laughed too, quickly covering his mouth to muffle the sound.  "Who's afraid of his mommy," he laughed into his hand.

     "I aaaam!" David cried.  "I'm afraid."

     "And well you should be," Carol agreed, ignoring Jane's laugh.

     The flesh of David's bottom was hot in Carol's hand, which was tingling from an activity it was not used to.  Throughout her life, Carol had heard and read the parents traditional spanking lament that 'this will hurt me more than it will hurt you.'  She had not understood that and had wondered how it could be true.  She now knew there wasn't a word of truth in it. 

     SPANK!

     David was yelping, his bottom was crimson and he had kicked and flailed his legs so much in protest of the spanking that he had shucked his shorts right off.  He had never been spanked, his bottom was bare and Paul's mother was watching the whole thing and yet none of that was of any concern to David.  At that moment, as his mother brought down each hot spank, all he knew for sure was that he'd meant every word he'd said.  He would obey his mother, he was afraid and he'd never be naughty again.  He had even stopped wondering what had happened to Paul.

     Carol could feel the heat from the David's flesh that she, herself, had scorched, yet all she felt was immense satisfaction.  Never again would this boy talk back to her or treat her with
sassy disrespect without a well-spanked bottom as a result.  She would never have to listen to his unrelenting nagging and whining to get out of being grounded.  The best he could do was plead with her to stop spanking him, as he was doing now.  And every plea was met with another hot smack on his blazing bottom

Paul was impressed with the sound of what he knew were hard spanks.  Carol was really giving him a good one.  A long one, too.  He winced in sympathy despite himself.

     It's like watching a video of me spanking Paul, Jane thought.  All the action was there, but it was complete, not in the separated segments it usually was while the spanking was going on.  Now she had a different perspective. She was not emotionally involved, it was not she who was trying to teach her son how to behave.  She could see it from all angles.  She could understand her own son's struggling, howling and pleading as his bottom became redder and redder.  She could see both the determination and satisfaction in Carol's face and knew she must have the same expression when she was spanking Paul.  She could hear the discipline in Carol's voice as she scolded her son.   The position of David's bottom over his mother's knees, the pre- teen's struggle, Carol's expression of satisfaction mixed with determination, the sincerity, fear and pain etched in David's face as he promised to behave, the uncertainty in Carol whether to believe him or  to spank a little more just to make sure, and yet to go too far. 

     Carol spanked in brisk, sharp smacks along the top of David's bottom, near the dimples so deep she could bury her entire fingertip.  She traveled the spanks down over the roundest, fullest part of her son's plump cheeks to the part where the flesh curved under at the top of his strong thighs.  She covered each chubby round with the stinging spanks intrigued with the feel of the bite in her own hand, the bouncing of the firm, supple flesh or the shades of red that appeared.

     David slumped over Carol's lap and began to sob while his mother spanked him.  He made sounds that were not cries but not quite words, either.

     Carol had stopped scolding, aware that David was no longer resisting, or pleading or protesting his innocence.  She gave a final spank to each of her son's bottom cheeks.

     "Are you ready to behave," she asked quietly?

     "Yes," David sobbed, both guilt and contrition in his voice.

     "Very well.  I'll stop spanking you now," she advised, resting her hot palm on her son's blazing bottom.  "But, you are grounded for a solid week and if I hear one word out of you about letting you off, I'll put you right back over my knee, bare your bottom and spank it just as I did today.  Now, do you want to test me on this?"

     "No, David sobbed. 

     Carol soothed her hand over her son's hot cheeks and patted them lightly.  She pulled his briefs up to the tops of his thighs.

     "Lift your bottom," she directed.  David lifted and she pulled his briefs up until they covered her son's bottom.  "Okay, you can get up now."

     David lifted himself off his mother's lap and stood uncertainly before her, his head bowed, his face red and tears still streaming down his cheeks.  Carol stood and put her arms
around him.  David quickly wrapped his arms around his mother and hugged her tightly.  He buried his head in her shoulder and sobbed as she rocked him and whispered soft words of
encouragement.

     Paul could no longer hear the sound of a flat hand spanking bare flesh and he began to hear muffled sobbing.  The spanking was over, he knew.  He felt both regret and relief.  He was at
that place where he hoped David would get a few more smacks at the same time he had begun to feel sorry for him. 

     Jane sighed and smiled at the tender scene before her.  David would be a good boy for at least a month, maybe longer.  Now that he knew a spanking would be the result of naughty
behavior, both he and Paul would be very careful to walk the straight and narrow.

     "All right, sweetie, go find your shorts and put them on.  I'm going to take you home."

     "Ohhh!" David yelped, having forgotten that he was only wearing his underpants, having kicked his shorts off during the spanking.  He blushed as red as his bottom and looked around
until he had found his shorts. He shot a furtive glance at Paul's mother who looked back at him. His face grew hot as he looked for, found and quickly put on, his shorts.

     Carol took her son's hand and looked at Jane. 

     "Thank you," she said, the two words, along with the look in her eyes, conveying everything she had experienced that day. 

     Jane nodded and smiled.  She reached out and tousled David's hair.  Carol led her son out of the house.  Jane took a deep breath and looked up the staircase toward her son's room.
"Chapter two," she murmured and began to climb the stairs. When the spanking stopped, Paul quietly closed the door to his room and lay back down on his bed, a sense of peace enveloping him.  Until he heard his mother on the stairs.