The Taylors by Ms. N

One of my SF spankees, Ms. N., wrote several short spanking stories during our virtual sessions and asked if I would post them here. Enjoy!

The Taylors by Ms. N

Part 1: If I Were Mrs. Taylor's Daughter

I love my boyfriend, but I have a crush on Mrs.Taylor.  My mom calls the Taylors the "power couple" of the neighborhood.  She said they decided to forgo a family in favor of their careers, both successful corporate attorneys.  The Taylors moved next door when I was in 5th grade and I've always been fascinated by Mrs. Taylor. I sometimes catch myself staring at her during our regular neighborhood block parties or at their annual Christmas party, and I try to imitate the way she speaks, laughs or gestures with her hands.  I often wonder what it would be like to be her daughter.

"Madi!" my mom yells from the bottom of the stairs, "I need you to go to the store."

Now that I’m 18 and have my driver's license, my mom takes full advantage of sending me on errands she doesn't want to run.  Driving is still a novelty for me, so I don't mind taking the car out, plus I'll get to stop at T-Pumps for my favorite honey boba tea.  I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen.  My mom hands me a grocery list, her debit card and her car keys.

"Don't stop at your boyfriend's house. I need these items for dinner tonight," she instructs.

"Fine," I say as I toss everything into my pack and head out the front door.

I press the keyless entry button to unlock the car, and I think I hear a faint "yelp" coming from the Taylor's house.  I pause for a second and listen, thinking maybe I'm just hearing things, then I hear it again.  It sounds like a man, and I wonder if Mr. Taylor has maybe injured himself.  I decide to walk over just to make sure I don't need to call 911.  

I cross their front lawn and over to the opposite side of the house.  The home next to theirs has been for sale for several months and no one is living there, so I don't worry about someone stopping me to ask what I'm doing.  I start walking towards the back of the house and I hear what sounds like slapping along with Mrs. Taylor's voice.  I can't hear what she's saying, but I can tell by her tone she's not happy.

I slow my pace and start to sneak quietly towards the back window that I can see is slightly open.  As I move closer, the slapping noise is quite audible, and I can now hear Mrs. Taylor speaking very sternly about checking with her before making large expenditures.  I can also hear Mr. Taylor saying how sorry he is and promising to do better.  

"Is Mr. Taylor crying?" I think to myself.

As I come fully up to the back window, I have to crouch slightly so I'm not seen.  I know I shouldn’t be sneaking around like this, but my nervous energy and insatiable curiosity are getting the better of me.  I slowly come out of my crouch and peer into the window.  I can see from the dressers and closet that it's their bedroom.  I turn my head slightly and I can see Mrs. Taylor sitting on the bed, her back to the window where I'm staring in.  I can also see Mr. Taylor, who appears to be completely naked, over her lap and she's spanking him with a black paddle.

I continue to stare, transfixed, as she smacks his bare bottom over and over with the paddle while he writhes and pleads with her to stop.  I have a tight feeling in my stomach and my legs start to feel a bit shaky, but I don't move from that spot.  As I'm watching, I suddenly realize the spanking has abruptly stopped. I continue to stand there for a beat before looking up and noticing Mrs. Taylor has turned around and is staring right at me.

I quickly duck down. "Oh shit," I say to myself with a sinking feeling.

"Madi, is that you?" comes Mrs. Taylor's voice calmly from the open window.

I know I am so busted, but I cannot move or say anything. "Madilynn Sims, is that you?" she says quite firmly this time.

I finally relent knowing I've been caught. "Yes, Mrs. Taylor."

"Meet me at the back door this instant, young lady!" she orders. 

I stand up fully so we can see each other. "Ye...yes, Mrs. Taylor," I stammer as I start to head towards their back gate.

I can hear her telling Mr. Taylor to put his nose in the corner and that she is not done with him.  I open the back gate and walk to the back door, my heart pounding like crazy and wishing I was in line at T-Pumps instead of here.  Mrs. Taylor is waiting for me, holding the screen door open. "Get in here now, Madi," she says sternly as I start walking up the short flight of stairs.

I walk past her and into the kitchen as she closes the door behind us.  She immediately grabs my upper arm with her left hand pulling me further into the kitchen, and gives me five fast hard swats with her right hand squarely on my bottom. "What were you doing sneaking around outside our house?" she asks in a very firm tone.

I stand stupidly unable to say anything, shocked that I just received swats from our neighbor like I was a five year old.  She turns me around again and delivers six more hard spanks. "Don't make me ask you again, young lady!  What were you doing sneaking around by our bedroom window? 

"I..I thought I heard Mr. Taylor yelp and I came over to make sure he wasn't hurt," I stammer.

"Well, when you hear something like that, you go to the front door and ring the doorbell.  You don't creep around the side of someone's private residence and peer into their bedroom window," she admonishes.

"I'm really sorry, I wasn't thinking," I say shakily.

"Well, I'm going to have to teach you a lesson in proper behavior, miss, and I expect you to keep what you've seen here to yourself. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mrs. Taylor," I barely eke out.

She leaves my side for a moment and walks over to the kitchen counter where she has an assortment of wooden spoons in a ceramic container.  She selects one and walks over to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair.  Instead of grabbing my arm, this time she grabs my ear harshly and pulls me over to her right side as she sits down.  Before I know it, she has unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them and my panties down below my knees. She then grabs my ear again and forcibly pulls me over her lap. 

I'm shaking pretty strongly at this point as I realize I'm about to get a spanking.  She begins to harshly and rhythmically deliver multiple stinging spanks over my bottom, sit spot and thighs with the wooden spoon.  I immediately start to squirm helplessly in pain over her lap, my bottom warming quickly.  I try to say how sorry I am, but it only comes out as ridiculous squeaks as a small sob escapes. 

As she continues with the increasingly painful spanks, she begins to scold me,"This is what happens to nosy little girls who behave in such a sneaky way.  You should be ashamed of yourself!  You are an 18 year old young woman acting like a five year old and you're going to be punished!" 

Tears are flowing freely at this point and I stop trying to hold them back knowing I have no control.  I reach my hand back to cover my bottom, and take a stinging rap on the knuckles with the spoon.  "I guess you won't be trying that again!" Mrs. Taylor scolds.

She continues with the relentless spanks with the spoon covering my sit spot and thighs thoroughly.  I know my bottom must be bright red at this point leading to further feelings of embarrassment and shame. After what feels like an eternity, she finally slows her strokes, then stops; I can hear her place the spoon on the table.  I'm in full heaving sobs and feel acutely humiliated being over her lap with my panties and jeans pulled down. 

She starts speaking in a calm and firm tone, "I hope you've learned your lesson, and will think twice before skulking around outside someone's house rather than minding your own business." 

I can only nod my head through the continued flow of tears. "Now, I'm going to help you up, and you can pull up your panties and jeans," she directs.

She helps me stand up on shaky legs and I turn around overcome by embarrassment as I pull up my panties and jeans and button the front.  I can see she's staring at me, but I keep my eyes down. "Remember what I said about keeping what you've seen here today to yourself.  I think you have a good appreciation of the consequences if you don't.  Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mrs. Taylor."

She puts her hand on my shoulder as she guides me to the back door.  She opens the door and holds the screen for me as I gingerly make my way down the back steps. "Goodbye, Madi," she says as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Taylor," I say quietly, still unable to make eye contact.

I walk slowly and painfully along the side of their house taking extra care to not look in their bedroom window.  I walk through their front yard and back over to my mom's car, again pressing the keyless entry which has relocked.  I carefully lower myself into the driver's seat wincing, my bottom still on fire.  As I start the car, I think to myself that this is what it would be like to be Mrs Taylor's daughter.

Part 2: Bring Mommy's Hairbrush 

It had been about three months since I received the hardest and most humiliating spanking of my life from Mrs. Taylor. For the first couple weeks after, I was incredibly awkward around her, but she seemed completely unfazed by what happened and continued to make a point of saying, "Hello" to me whenever we saw each other. It wasn’t exactly a friendly “Hello,” it was more of an, “I’m keeping my eye on you ‘Hello.’”

I definitely honored my word to not tell anyone about what I’d witnessed that day.  I had been tempted a few times to share some of the details with my two best friends, but the threat of another bare bottom spanking with the wooden spoon helped keep my mouth shut.  I did wonder if it was common for wives to spank their husbands though.  I wondered if my mom spanked my dad, but then the thought of him lying naked over her lap made me sick to my stomach, so I pushed the thought out of my head.

I had never been punished by my parents like I was by Mrs. Taylor that day.  When I was younger, I would receive the occasional swat at the grocery store for being bratty or at the mall if I strayed too far away from my mom, but never anything like I received over Mrs. Taylor’s lap in their kitchen. Despite everything, I admittedly still sort of obsessed over her.

The tone on my phone sounded.  My friend finished the virtual invitation for the house party we were planning the weekend my parents were going to be out of town.  My boyfriend’s brother was 22 and agreed to buy us a few kegs and the rest would be BYOB.  My friends and I had been saving our money working weekends at In-N-Out Burger in preparation for the party. 

I reviewed the invitation and messaged my friend to go ahead and send it out. The party would be on Saturday night in two weeks.  My parents were going on a pontoon boat with two other couples and would be leaving Friday morning and returning Sunday evening.  In addition to having the party, I told my boyfriend, Kurt, that he could spend the night.  We hadn’t yet had sex, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but still liked the thought of a sleepover with him.

By the time the Friday before the party rolled around, about 50 people had RSVP'd.  My girlfriends and I were so excited and had arranged for Kurt’s brother to drop off the kegs around 8:00 PM on Saturday night.  My parents were still packing their bags when I left for school Friday morning, and my mom reminded me the contact information for the pontoon boat company was on the refrigerator and that they would have cell coverage if I needed anything. 

My girlfriends came over Saturday night around 7:00, and we started putting up some decorations and queuing up music on JQBX.  Kurt and his brother showed up at 8:00, and his brother tapped the kegs for us and showed us how to pour.  Kurt’s brother then headed out and said he would be by sometime tomorrow morning to pick up the kegs and return them to the liquor store.

Our friends began to arrive around 9:00 and by 10:00, the first keg was done.  We had the music cranked and I was enjoying sitting on my boyfriend’s lap while he gave me my third hickey.  He knew I liked being marked this way and he was happy to oblige.  At 11:30 nobody had left and we were all getting pretty hammered.  Some people had started to take food out of our cabinets and refrigerator.  I didn’t really care, I was having a good time and thought maybe I was ready to have sex with Kurt.

My friend came over and tapped me on the shoulder, "Mads, there’s someone at the front door, and they said they need to talk to you." 

“Who is it?” I partially slurred.

“I don’t know. It’s a woman and a man and they said you needed to come to the door immediately,” my friend replied back.

“Jesus,” I said loudly as I got up from the couch and stumbled a bit to the front door.

I saw that it was Mr. and Mrs. Taylor standing outside looking very serious. “Madilynn, do you know what time it is?” Mrs. Taylor questioned.

“No,” I responded probably a bit too sarcastically.

“It’s 11:30 and it’s time for you to finish your party and send everyone home.  I’m assuming your parents are gone for the weekend and have no idea about your party,” Mrs. Taylor stated very directly.

“I may have mentioned it to them, I can’t quite remember at the moment,” I said, attempting to sound sober.

At that point Mrs. Taylor walked past me and into the house.  She closed my laptop, cutting off the music, and announced, “Ok, everyone, the party is over!  You all have 10 minutes to collect whatever you brought with you and to leave.  If you don't have a designated driver, speak with my husband, Mr. Taylor, and he will arrange for an Uber to take you home.”

Everyone stood in disbelief for a moment, then followed instructions knowing she meant business.  Mrs. Taylor then walked back over to where I was standing and swaying slightly. Kurt came over too and grabbed my hand.  “Who are you?” Mrs. Taylor asked.

“I’m Kurt, Madi’s boyfriend,” he said, slurring a bit.

“Come with me you two,” she directed.

We followed her into the kitchen and she opened the cabinet under our sink handing each of us a large kitchen garbage bag.  “You two need to start cleaning up now!  I want every red drink cup, beer can, chip bag, napkin picked up and put in your bags in 30 minutes!,” she instructed firmly.

I made a huffing noise and an obnoxious eye roll which I could tell Mrs. Taylor did not appreciate.  Kurt and I stumbled over each other as we picked up all the trash as Mr. Taylor coordinated the Uber rides.  There were some spilled drinks that I would have to clean up in the morning, but Kurt and I finished picking up all the garbage in 30 minutes as instructed.  By that time, all my friends had left and we were alone with the Taylors.

We carried our full plastic bags to the front door.  “Kurt, Mr. Taylor will help you dump the garbage bags, then it’s time for you to go too,” Mrs. Taylor stated.

“Kurt is staying the night,” I said, not appreciating Mrs. Taylor telling my boyfriend what to do.

“The hell he is!” Mrs. Taylor responded glaring at me.

I didn’t say anything else, but did let another exasperated huffing sound escape; I could feel Mrs. Taylor’s stare intensify.  She leaned over to Mr. Taylor and said something to him in a low voice, it sounded like, "Bring Mommy's hairbrush," but I couldn't quite hear and figured I misheard. Mr. Taylor nodded.  Kurt gathered his backpack, we kissed each other quickly and he left.  Mrs. Taylor and I were alone together. 

She turned to face me with her arms crossed. My bravery quickly evaporated as the scolding began. “Young lady, do you realize your parents could be liable if any of the underage drinkers here tonight were to get into a car accident? I am noticing there is a severe lack of discipline in this house, and if you were my daughter, trust me you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week if you pulled something like this!"

We stood in silence for a few moments as I shifted uncomfortably with eyes staring at the floor. She resumed her scolding, but using a much harsher tone and staring intensely at me.  "Apparently, the punishment you received over my knee several months ago did not resolve your issues with maturity, and I plan to address your ongoing naughty and, quite frankly, reprehensible behavior once and for all!"

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Taylor," I slurred slightly as I started to feel sick to my stomach.

Mr. Taylor then walked back in the front door and handed Mrs. Taylor what was unmistakably a silver plated hairbrush. I swallowed hard. She told him she would be home in a little while and he shouldn't wait up. He kissed her on the cheek and walked out, closing the door behind him.

She turned back to me and directed, "I want you to go upstairs, brush your teeth, wash your face, put on your pajamas and wait for me in your bedroom.  I will be up in 10 minutes.  You are going to get a good bottom warming, young lady!"

Now I felt really sick to my stomach.  I think it was a bad combination of alcohol and nerves. I let out a nervous sigh and turned to head upstairs in disbelief that I was 18 and still being treated like a little girl. Apparently I wasn't moving quite fast enough and received three hard swats from Mrs. Taylor where I stood.  That made me move faster.

I walked quickly, but shakily, up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom.  I would have otherwise taken time to admire my hickeys while brushing my teeth, but my impending punishment was the only thing I could focus on. I considered the option of slipping out my bedroom window to safety, but knew this would just be prolonging the inevitable.  I washed and dried my face, then headed down to my bedroom.

It was still warm in the evenings so I put on my tank top and pajama shorts and sat on my bed. I waited for what seemed an excruciatingly long time before I heard Mrs. Taylor walking up the stairs and down the hall.  My stomach lurched and I thought again about making a window escape. She walked into my bedroom and continued with her admonishing glare.  "Stand up!" she ordered.

I immediately obeyed and could feel my legs getting weaker as I started to breathe more heavily.  She sat down on my bed, grabbed my arm and yanked me unceremoniously over her lap.  She then set the hairbrush on the bed a few inches from my face. She reached a couple fingers under the elastic waistband of my pajama shorts and pulled them down to my ankles.  The same feelings of humiliation I experienced previously when she bared my bottom came flooding back.  Without saying another word, she picked up the hairbrush from the bed and rested her other hand on my upper back, securing me in place.  I knew I was about to get my second sound spanking in as many months and I was now fully sober. 

I thought the wooden spoon was painful, but it paled by comparison to the hairbrush which felt much heavier and painfully covered more of my bottom with each stinging spank.  I started squirming and involuntarily made an attempt to escape from her lap.  She put her right leg over my legs and locked her ankles together pulling me back into position.  “You’re not going anywhere, Miss!” she scolded.  

As before, the tears started to flow as the spanks rained down on my increasingly sore bottom. I was sure it was quite red at this point which added to my extreme embarrassment. She then moved the hairbrush smacks down to my upper thighs which made me cry out; the pain was searing.  I had never experienced anything that hurt so much and I felt completely helpless and vulnerable to do anything except take my punishment and hope it ended soon.

She grabbed my left hand and secured it behind my low back since I was really squirming at this point and she wanted to make sure I was firmly in place.  I clenched my fists trying not to cry uncontrollably, but I couldn't help myself and began to sob like a little girl.  She began to spank me harder and faster, my poor bottom was on fire, the pain almost unbearable. She moved back to my sit spot with the brush and continued the hard, rhythmic spanks.  I stopped trying to resist and felt myself go limp feeling completely exhausted, unable to help my situation at all or to stop crying as the punishment continued.

I could finally feel the spanks getting lighter and was overcome by a sense of relief that this hellacious experience was hopefully almost over.  She gave me a few more light swats on my sit spot, then set the hairbrush back down on the bed close to my face.  She unlocked her ankles and moved her leg back under my hips.  She let go of my hand and moved my arm over my head so it was resting on the bed. I lay sobbing over her lap for a few minutes until I could feel her hand softly touching my hair. This act of gentleness after what I had been subjected to almost made me cry harder.  

“We’re done, Madi,” she said reassuringly as she stroked my hair, “It was obviously difficult for you to be punished like this and I know you will be more mindful of your actions moving forward. I will have to tell your parents about the party and how Mr. Taylor and I had to intervene.  I won’t tell them I disciplined you, but I am going to suggest they punish you by having you work in our yard for the next two weekends.”

I nodded and was finally getting my crying under control. I started to feel a little sleepy despite my aching bottom.  “I want you to get up, pull up your pajamas and stand in the corner.  You need to spend a few minutes by yourself thinking about why I had to punish you. I will be back shortly. 

She helped me to my feet and I pulled up my shorts.  My sore bottom distracted me from my embarrassment as she walked me to the corner by my bedroom door.  “Clasp your elbows behind your back,” she directed.

I stood facing the corner and thinking how much I wished I had just gone to a movie with Kurt. I knew I let things get out of hand at the party and understood I was being inconsiderate of the Taylors and my parents.  Mrs. Taylor came back into the room and handed me a glass of water. “Drink this, then into bed,” she instructed.

I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.  I drank the water down, then climbed into bed on my stomach. “Good night, Madi,” Mrs. Taylor said as she turned out the light.  I immediately fell into a deep sleep.

Part 3: Taken to the Woodshed

As expected, my house arrest began Sunday evening - no phone, no laptop, no boyfriend, no girlfriends, no going out, no driving, essentially nothing fun for the next month.  My days would be filled with school, homework, and, unfortunately, yardwork at the Taylor’s. 

Within an hour of my parent’s return on Sunday evening, the phone rang.  I knew who it was.  My mom’s initial cheerful greeting of Mrs. Taylor’s call, quickly turned serious and was followed by a series of, “Oh nos,” “I’m so sorrys,” “She did whats?” and “Yes, she’ll be over at your place at 8:00AM for the next two weekends.” 

After the call ended, I sat on the couch with my eyes down and my hands folded in my lap, shifting uncomfortably mostly because of the previous night’s spanking, but also because of the serious verbal lashing I was taking from my mom.  I did feel sort of sorry for her since she and Mrs. Taylor really liked each other, and I knew my mom was embarrassed by my behavior.  Once the bollocking was done and all of my electronics confiscated and stowed away for the next month, my mom insisted we go over to the Taylor’s together so I could apologize in person. I knew I was in no position to object, so over we went.

My mom rang the doorbell.  I tried to act annoyed and bored by being forced to apologize, but as soon as Mrs. Taylor opened the door, I couldn’t even look at her, and felt like a little girl who had just been punished for acting like a spoiled child. “Hello, Miranda,” my mom said, sounding exasperated and apologetic.

“Hello, Ann, hello Madi,” Mrs. Taylor replied in her normal calm voice.

“Madi and I came over so she could apologize to you for her behavior last night,” my mom said in an unusually stern tone.

I didn’t say anything at first. The most humiliating part was knowing that both Mrs. Taylor and I knew I was standing there with a freshly spanked bottom. “Start talking, Madi!” my mom ordered.

I let out a nervous sigh. “I’m really sorry for my behavior last night. It was inconsiderate and disrespectful of you and Mr. Taylor,” I mumbled sheepishly. 

Mrs. Taylor stood with her arms folded staring at me. I think she wasn’t fully convinced that I was sorry. 

“Well, as we discussed on the phone,” my mom said to Mrs. Taylor, “Madi is being punished at home as well, and will be over here all day the next two weekends to do whatever yardwork you decide.”

“Thank you, Ann,” then shifting to look at me, “I was very disappointed in your behavior, Madi.  I know multiple neighbors were impacted by how loud the party was, and I think you owe all of them apologies as well,” Mrs. Taylor stated matter of factly.

I did not like that Mrs. Taylor was planting more punishment thoughts in my mom’s head. “That is a good idea.  Tomorrow when you get home from school, you and I will be walking around to the other neighbors’ houses so you can apologize,” my mom said, directing an admonishing stare my way.

I let out a soft huff that caused Mrs. Taylor to bristle. “We’ll be going now so you can finish your evening, Miranda.  I’m so sorry again. Madi will do whatever you need to make it up to you and your husband,” my mom said apologetically.

We said our goodnights and headed back home.  When we walked through the door, my mom sent me straight to my room. I went upstairs and into my bedroom, closing the door. With no phone or laptop to distract me, I decided to inspect my bruised bottom again in my closet mirror. There must have been engraving or a carved design on the back of the hairbrush, since I had dark purple welts shaped like arcs on my bottom and upper thighs. I ran my fingers over them with some fascination and a good amount of wincing.  I guessed it was good I wouldn’t be seeing my boyfriend, Kurt, for the next month since I would be ashamed if he saw that I had been spanked like a child.

The week started as normal and I figured Kurt and my girlfriends would be wondering why I wasn’t responding to any texts.  When I arrived at school, everyone asked if I had gotten into trouble.  I confirmed I was grounded for the next month and had no phone or laptop.  Kurt said he had a spare phone he would bring tomorrow so I could sneak messages to him and my other friends during my lockdown.  The one small highlight of the day was that everyone told me how much fun they had at the party and wondered when my parents would be out of town again. I secretly hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Sitting in class for the first couple days was excruciatingly painful.  I never realized how hard the school desks were until I had to sit on them with a soundly smacked bottom.  My English teacher actually asked if I was doing ok at one point since I was shifting uncomfortably and fidgeting continually.  I was happy for the brief reprieve between classes where I could stand up.

The after school apologies were very unpleasant and all the neighbors confirmed they were surprised and disappointed with my behavior.  Unfortunately, the neighbors’ feedback led to my mom adding another two weeks of house confinement to my punishment. 

I normally use Saturday mornings as a nice sleep in day, but not this Saturday.  My mom woke me up at 7:00AM so I could have breakfast and report to the Taylor’s.  I was admittedly grumpy since I was going to miss the opening night of Fright Fest at Six Flags with my friends. I finished breakfast, put on some old, loose-fitting jeans, a t-shirt, my tennis shoes, put my hair in a ponytail and headed over to the Taylor’s house.

Mrs. Taylor had told my mom I should meet her at the backdoor, then she would mete out my punishment.  I walked along the side of the house, remembering to not look in the bedroom window, and pushed open the back gate.  Mrs. Taylor was waiting for me with a paper in hand.  “Good morning, Madilynn,” she said.

“Hi Mrs. Taylor,” I responded, trying not to sound aloof.

“Let’s get you started,” she stated as she handed me the paper, “You have a lot to do and I will be inspecting your work after you complete each task.”

I looked at the paper.

I was not happy with the length of my first day’s “To Do” list, but tried not to show my annoyance to Mrs. Taylor, understanding I may be marched back into their kitchen to receive more smarting swats with the spoon or hairbrush.  My bottom still had some lingering bruising, but the pain had mostly subsided.  I was determined to not earn another trip over her knee or to have any of my punishment extended further.

Mrs. Taylor directed me to the tools and supplies to start my work.  She also handed me a pair of gardening gloves. “I have an important legal case I’m working on, so I expect limited interruption. When you have completed a task and need me to inspect, knock on the backdoor.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mrs. Taylor,” I responded, again feeling reduced to a child.

“I’ve left some water for you on the table and I’ll have some lunch for you around 12:00 when you take a break,” she stated.

She gave me one more stern look for good measure then headed up the backstairs and into the house.  Now that I was alone I gave a loud, exasperated sigh while I put on my gloves.  I had thought about sending a quick snarky text to Kurt about my crap situation, but I figured I would need to be a bit more sneaky about it in case Mrs. Taylor was watching from the kitchen window.

I knelt down on the grass beside the side garden and started to pull out weeds.  It was a slightly cooler day which helped, but I was still a sweaty mess when I took my first break from weeding to get some water.  I had been sitting on my heels while working and felt some of the residual sting from last Saturday’s spanking.  I absentmindedly gave myself a few rubs which seemed to help. 

It took close to two hours to complete the weeding and bagging, then I was ready to fertilize and mulch.  As instructed, I knocked on the backdoor to let Mrs. Taylor know I was ready for my first task to be inspected.  She came to the door looking focused and serious.  “I finished the weeding and bagging,” I said as respectfully as I could.

“Ok, I’ll be out in a minute,” she responded. 

She stepped into some gardening clogs and walked down the short flight of stairs to the side garden. She began a meticulous inspection of my weeding work.  “Very nice, Madi,” she said looking pleased and a little surprised, “I can see you worked very hard on this and you did a good job.”

I felt a little rush of pride and relief at finally hearing something positive.  She then moved to the back garden and was again satisfied with the work I’d done.  I wasn’t sure why receiving a compliment from her was so important to me.  My parents gave me frequent compliments, but it just seemed more meaningful and hard-earned coming from Mrs. Taylor. “Where is your To Do list?” she questioned.

We walked back to the patio table where she picked up my list and put a checkmark in the “Completed” column.  “Ok, I left you a cup and instructions for how to spread the fertilizer, then I want you to water.  Allow the water to soak in before you begin mulching.  Do you have any questions?”

“No,” I said as I shook my head.

“Ok, this should take you until lunch time, then you’re permitted to take a break,” she instructed.

I nodded as I put my gloves back on.  Mrs. Taylor headed back into the house.  I read through the instructions carefully to make sure I wouldn’t mess anything up.  I admittedly wanted to earn more praise from Mrs. Taylor and wanted to do a good job.  My phone hidden in my front pocket sounded.  My first urge was to look at it, but I resisted so I could focus on my work.

I carefully fertilized, watered and mulched the side and back gardens based on the instructions.  I then disposed of the fertilizer and mulch bags, wound up the hose and conducted my own preliminary inspection before knocking on the backdoor.  “All finished?” Mrs. Taylor asked as she opened the door.

“All finished,” I responded, trying not to sound too enthusiastic.  

Mrs. Taylor slipped back into her clogs and came outside to begin her inspection.  She knelt down a few times to more evenly distribute the mulch, but, once again, she seemed pleased with the work I’d done.  “I’ll have to say, Madi, I’m very happy with the job you’re doing today.  I appreciate you taking your punishment seriously and staying on task.”

She picked up my To Do list and added a checkmark in the Completed column.  She then went inside and brought out some sandwiches, a pasta salad and some iced tea.  She set the food on the patio table and put up the umbrella so we would have some shade. She sat with me while we ate and talked about my college plans and several of her current legal cases.  I was quite happy to have this type of one-on-one time with her and found myself again staring at her and trying to imitate her mannerisms.

After we finished lunch, we cleared the plates and food together and took everything to the kitchen. This was my first time back in their kitchen since I was spanked harshly with the wooden spoon. I felt a small rush of nervousness and banged my knee against a kitchen chair while setting the food down.  Mrs. Taylor turned around abruptly and gave me an annoyed look, but then turned back and resumed putting the dishes in the sink. I suddenly felt the urge to go back outside quickly to continue with my list. 

I confirmed I was fine using the riding mower and explained it was my chore at home as well, so she left me to finish my next task and returned to her case work.  I figured once I had been on the mower for a bit, it would be a good time to check for any texts.  Knowing I’d have limited access to my phone, I started a GroupMe so I could send out group texts quickly to Kurt and my girlfriends.  I started up the mower and drove it to the back of the yard to begin the mundane job of driving back and forth across the lawn.

After a few minutes, I took my phone out of my pocket and started looking at videos and sending texts.  I was careful to put the phone down each time I came to the end of the grass so I could turn the mower and resume the grass cutting in the other direction.  My friends and Kurt were giving me lots of texts of encouragement and sympathy that I would be missing Six Flags that night.

As I started the last section of the yard close to the deck, Kurt sent me the link to this incredibly funny cat video called Gato Malo. I clicked the link and started watching as the cat began knocking items off the counter.  Kurt knew cat videos were a guilty pleasure of mine and he sent links to me frequently.  I watched the video through the first time laughing my ass off, then clicked the link again.  As the video restarted, I looked up a second before crashing the mower into the patio table.

Before realizing what I was doing and stepping on the brake, I had pushed the patio table into the side of the house, shattering the glass covering of the table and bending the frame. I killed the motor and sat dumbfounded for a second in disbelief.

Mrs. Taylor swung the backdoor and screen open and came rushing down the stairs.  She put her hands on the side of her head as she saw the smashed table and broken glass and yelled, “What the hell happened, Madi?”

I quickly got off the mower, but was too scared to say anything. She walked over and snatched the phone out of my hand and watched the last seconds of the Gato Malo video then threw her hands down to her side.  “Look what you’ve done!  You were watching a video on your phone while mowing?” she shouted.

I was completely frozen.  I just stood there trembling with my hands over my nose and mouth gaping at the mess I’d made.  “What were you thinking?  This is a $3000 patio set you just destroyed and I’m going to take it out on your hide, young lady!”

I knew I was in for it.  Mrs. Taylor carefully stepped around the glass and set my phone down on the stairs.  She then headed straight for me and grabbed my ear so hard I let out a small yelp.  She pulled me by the ear to the back of the yard.  “Oh my God,” I thought, “I’m being taken to the woodshed.” 

We briskly walked through the door of the shed and she slid it closed behind her. She also quickly closed a curtain to one part of the shed, but not before I saw what looked like a metal post with cuffs on top. I didn’t have long to ponder that before she unbuttoned my jeans and yanked them down along with my panties. She then forcefully pulled me over what looked like a sawhorse; I thought I was going to flip over the top of it, but she put her hand on my legs to steady me.

I could barely touch the floor with my fingers and toes.  I realized quickly I would not be able to lift myself without help. “You are going to get a good old fashioned belt whipping, Miss! 30 hard strokes across your bare bottom!”

I felt sick to my stomach and tried to give a nervous appeal that was ignored.  She walked in front of me and I saw several straps hanging from hooks on the wall of the shed. I began to shake as she selected a brown leather one and looped it in half.  She quickly moved behind me and I was able to eke out a meek, “I’m sorry, please, no,” before I could hear a swish and the first stroke landed in a line across my entire bottom.

The pain was intense and shocking. My bottom was immediately on fire and I let out a cry. Without hesitation she gave me five more hard licks right across the same spot. I looked back briefly with the tears starting to flow and saw her swing her arm back again and deliver three more stinging strokes across my upper thighs.  I began to plead saying I would pay to repair the table knowing I couldn’t take being whipped this hard. 

“You’re damn right you’re going to pay! Now hold still! You’ve earned this strapping young lady, trust me, you’ve earned it!” she scolded as three more licks lit up my sit spot.

I had no idea how many strokes I had taken, I lost count. The strikes seemed to be getting harder and were landing in the same spots on my thighs and bottom repeatedly. The swishing sound preceding each lick made me feel the strokes more acutely. I shuddered as the hardest stroke yet landed squarely on my sit spot. I cried out in pain and felt again like I was going to flip over the sawhorse, but steadied myself with my fingers.  As quickly as it started, the whipping ended and I lay bent over with my sore striped bottom on full display while I sobbed quietly.

I watched Mrs. Taylor return the strap to the wall and I could see she was breathing heavily. “I’m not done with you, Madilynn,” she said as she caught her breath, “You’re going to have some corner time, then you’re coming back over my knee.”

I started to object, wanting to remind her she said I would get 30 strokes, but knew I wasn’t in the position to do any negotiating.  She literally had to lift me up off the sawhorse and stand me back up.  I started to pull up my panties and she said, “No, no, young lady, panties and jeans are staying down for corner time.”

She gave me a hard swat on my tender bottom which propelled me into the corner. “Grasp your elbows behind your back and no fidgeting!” she ordered.

I did as I was told and felt completely humiliated with my jeans and panties pooled by my ankles and my freshly whipped bottom completely visible.  Mrs. Taylor left the shed for a few minutes, then returned carrying one of the kitchen chairs.  She set it down next to where I was standing in the corner, grabbed my arm and pulled me over her lap as she sat down.

She then began to deliver a hard hand spanking mostly on my sit spot, but covering my bottom and thighs as well.  “Do you admit it was a bad idea to use your phone while on the riding mower, Madilynn?”

“Yes,” I squeaked out through the tears while acutely feeling every swat.

“For the remainder of your time doing chores here, you’re going to be on a regular spanking schedule. When you first arrive in the morning, you are going to come over my lap to receive a firm hand spanking on your bare bottom, followed by corner time so you can focus on the assigned tasks.   We will have no more of this irresponsible behavior and you will not be permitted to have any electronics while you are here, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mrs. Taylor,” I sobbed.

She gave me a few more light spanks, then helped me up off her lap.  As I stood up, she let me pull up my panties and jeans and re-tie my ponytail. She placed her hand on the back of my neck and we walked out of the shed together.

“Get a plastic bag, you have some cleanup to do.”

Part 4: The Enforcer

“Hello,” Mr. Taylor called from the front door as he walked inside.

“In the office,” Mrs. Taylor responded.

Mr. Taylor hung his keys on the hook by the door and walked down the hall to the office he and his wife shared.  As he walked into the office and set his briefcase down, his wife took off her reading glasses and looked up from her laptop. “How did the negotiations go?” she asked.

Mr. Taylor leaned over to give her a “hello” kiss.  “We completely have them by the balls!  The settlement will be worth hundreds of millions, and our firm will take a substantial cut.  I’ve never seen a clearer case of trademark infringement. Fortunately, the client listened to all of our guidance and held firm on all counts.  It’s a good win for us,” he beamed.

“Well,” Mrs. Taylor said, raising her eyebrows and looking pleased, “It sounds like some young man may be getting a reward this evening.” 

She then put her reading glasses back on and resumed review of her case.

Upon hearing this, Mr. Taylor felt a rush of adrenaline in his stomach and a stiffening in his pants.  His wife had purposefully left that comment hanging knowing how he would react.  He loved earning rewards from her, and knew it would likely mean a monster release for him later as his wife would skillfully take him to the edge of pleasure through pain.  He allowed his mind to wander to the possibilities as he leaned against the doorframe. 

Their sexual play always stayed fresh and he adored how creative she was at controlling him, even if he was being punished.  She was meticulous in her actions and had little tolerance for mistakes whether they were playing or she was disciplining him.  She could quickly and efficiently put him in a submissive space where he was easily manipulated and controlled.  

One of her favorite methods for controlling him was to pull him bare bottomed over her lap for a hand spanking or paddling until she could feel him getting hard.  She would then make him maintain his painful erection until she was properly serviced, then would allow him to come.  Early on he had difficulty not shooting his wad before receiving permission, and would find himself marched to the shed and unceremoniously secured to the spanking bench.  He would then receive a hard caning or flogging on his bottom and thighs as punishment.  He learned quickly how to maintain a hard-on until his wife gave her approval for him to rub one out. 

Without even looking up from her laptop, Miranda could tell Paul was fantasizing about the reward he may get later.  She gave them out sparingly.  She loved the power dynamic in their relationship and enjoyed putting him through his paces.  She knew her husband’s public persona could be arrogant, opportunistic, driven and frat-boyish. She taught him early that this behavior would not be tolerated at home or anytime in her presence.  Any hint of these behaviors, and she would forcibly turn him over her knee, lower his underwear, and spank his little bottom blue.  He would then get a minimum of one hour in the corner and possibly additional time bent over where she would add bruises to his already purple and sore ass. 

Although she loved her husband and how compatible they were on many levels, she had recently reconnected with one of her former female play partners, and started a spicy online flirtation. Miranda sometimes found men to be sort of simple creatures and liked the challenge of unlocking the sensuality in women as well.

Her play partner was very kinky and a true masochist which Miranda loved.  They were both skilled at role play and covered fantasies from school girl and headmistress spankings, paddlings and canings to hardcore dungeon play involving suspension and flogging.  They complemented each other well, fully embracing their top and bottom roles.  Her partner was also sexually adventurous and delightfully submitted to Miranda’s desire to experiment with strap-ons.  Miranda found that fucking with a strap-on fueled her penchant for control, and allowed her to focus completely on her partner’s reaction and pleasure since her own stimulation was more mental than physical.

She mostly enjoyed fucking from behind since it nicely presented her play partner’s bottom for spanking, pinching and scratching during their strap-on sessions. She allowed her partner to use the Magic Wand on herself during the fucking, and immensely enjoyed witnessing the intense orgasms that would inevitably ensue.  She introduced pegging into her relationship with Paul several years ago and it was now part of their regular sexual play.  They both enjoyed fucking this way in front of their long closet mirror.

“Well,” Paul said, abruptly interrupting her reverie, “I’m going to make us each a drink, then we can sit outside for a bit and celebrate a good legal victory.”

Miranda had to quickly collect herself. “That would normally sound very enjoyable, except we no longer have a functioning patio set.”

“What? What do you mean?” Paul asked.

“You know today was Madi’s first day of yard work punishment, and she had the bright idea of watching cat videos on her phone while driving the riding mower,” Miranda began to explain.

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Paul responded.

“She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going, and crashed into the patio table pushing it up against the side of the house, shattering the table-top glass, and bending the frame,” Miranda continued sounding exasperated.

“Oh no, did you…” Paul began to ask.

“Oh yes, I marched her by the ear out to the shed, bent her over the spanking horse and gave her a good old fashioned belt whipping,” Miranda interrupted.

“You took her into the shed?  Do you think she saw anything?” Paul asked a little nervously.

“When we walked in, I quickly closed the curtain. If she saw anything she likely didn’t know what she was looking at, so I’m not too worried,” she replied.

Miranda loved the metaphor associated with taking someone to the woodshed to correct misbehavior.  She had done extensive soundproofing and selected only well-crafted fetish furniture, some of it custom, to ensure she was always well placed to spank the right places. Although some play and punishment took place in the house, true discipline was administered in the woodshed.

“There is a lack of discipline with that girl. If she were my child, I would have her straightened out right away, I can tell you that,” she stated sternly.

“Well, we were thinking about replacing that patio furniture anyway, so I guess I can buy us a gold-plated set once the settlement goes through,” Paul replied with a haughty grin.

She looked up at him trying to decide if this comment could warrant some mild correction for being a little arrogant, but decided to let it go.  Paul walked out and into the kitchen to start making some drinks.  “Did you pick up the discovery from the paralegal’s office on your way home?” Miranda called out from the office.

No response came from her husband.  “Did you hear me, Paul?  I need the discovery to finish my case for submission before 10:00 AM tomorrow,” she said again more loudly.

When no response came a second time, she got up from the desk and walked into the kitchen.  Paul was standing slightly bent over with his head down and palms on the counter.  “What’s wrong?” she asked,  “Why aren’t you answering me?” she inquired more directly.

”I forgot to pick up the discovery,” Paul responded sheepishly, feeling his reward slipping away.

“What? Are you kidding me, Paul?  We already had to ask once for an extension. I need to have the written discovery tonight to submit to the plaintiff’s attorneys tomorrow or I am completely screwed!” Miranda sternly reproached her husband.

“I was focused on the negotiation outcome and completely forgot. I’m really sorry,” Paul apologized, shaking his head.

“Well, I’m going to make you sorry!” Miranda scolded loudly, “You are going to have to go back to the paralegal’s office tonight to pick it up for me!”

“Is there any way I can go first thing in the morning?  I’m tired from the negotiations and it could be a two hour round trip back into the city on a Saturday night,” her husband responded in a semi-pleading tone.

He could tell it was not a good idea to backtalk his wife at this moment and regretted his response as he saw her tense up and her face become stone cold. “You will be going back to the city tonight to pick up the documents I need, and you’re going to be sitting on a smarting and plugged bottom to keep you alert!” she admonished.

“This delay means I’m going to have to stay up until the early hours to finish the case, and I have Madi coming at 8:00AM to resume her yard work which I have to monitor.  I’m extremely disappointed with this mistake and with your backtalk, young man. You are going to be punished!”

He stood in front of her with his hands at his side and eyes down.“I want you out in the woodshed now!  Strip down to your underwear, put your nose in the corner and wait for me!” she directed.

“Yes, Miss,” he responded, reduced to a little boy.

When being punished, she required her husband to refer to her as “Miss,” or sometimes as “Mommy” if he was really acting childish.  He was to respond to all commands and questions with either, “Yes, Miss,” or “Yes, Mommy.”

Paul walked towards the backdoor with his shoulders slumped.  He knew better than to say anything else that may increase the severity of his upcoming punishment.  He opened up the door and walked down the back stairs towards the shed.

Miranda gave a big sigh, finding the whole scenario quite infuriating partly because of the inconvenience it was causing, but also because she was looking forward to some playtime tonight that now would not happen.  She finished mixing a drink for herself and sipped it slowly, giving her husband time to follow her instructions and to increase his anxiety over what was to come.

She finished her drink and walked out the backdoor, closing it behind her.  She typically liked to take her time when disciplining her husband, but tonight she knew the longer the punishment, the later Paul would get home.  This punishment would need to be quick, to the point, and very painful.  She knew just the implement and position she wanted.

She walked through the door of the shed and found her husband in the corner as directed.  She slid the door closed behind her.  She opened the curtain to another part of the shed revealing a face cradle spanking bench, a whipping post, and a pillory set.  She also had her various punishment implements hanging on the wall or placed on the shelving unit Paul built for her.  

She walked over to the wall and selected The Enforcer, her favorite heavy leather paddle. The leather was stitched around a metal shank and would allow her to produce the desired pain, pleading and bruising in a short amount of time. She set the paddle down on a table next to the spanking bench so her husband would see it first thing.

“Come over here,” she commanded authoritatively to her husband.

“Yes, Miss,” he replied meekly as he walked over to her.

She put several fingers under the elastic waistband of his underwear and pulled them down to his ankles. “Now, why are you being punished, young man?” she asked as she folded her arms.

Her husband shuddered slightly at having his bottom bared, “I’m being punished, Miss, for forgetting to pick up your documents and for talking back,” he responded quietly with his eyes and head down.

She tapped her hand on the table next to the spanking bench so her husband would see The Enforcer.  He let out a small gasp which was the desired effect.  She patted one of the knee breaks indicating for her husband to kneel on the pads and bend over the bench to be secured.  He stepped out of his underwear and she gave him a few stinging swats with her hand to hasten his movement. He knelt with his knees on the breaks and leaned forward with his chest and forearms on the pads.  

Miranda loved her spanking bench. She designed and had it custom made by a kinky friend who was a master woodworking craftsman.  Knowing her husband’s propensity to squirm, she added quick release buckles for his legs, back and arms to make sure he stayed firmly in place during his discipline.  She could also adjust the knee breaks to open his legs nicely to insert a butt plug or to flick a few licks from the cane or riding crop off his balls.

Once her husband was in position, she began to slowly fasten each buckle securing him tightly to the bench.  She could feel his anxiety increasing as each buckle was cinched. “You’re about to receive a hard paddling, young man. Trust me, I would have preferred to give you a nice reward tonight, but instead you’re going to get a punishment spanking.”

“I’m so sorry, Miss.  I understand I need to be corrected for being thoughtless and impertinent,” her husband said in a shaky voice.

He was resigned to being punished and knew it would be a painful drive back into the city.  She finished securing his arms, legs and back then picked up The Enforcer from the side table.  She moved behind him and gave two light taps of the paddle on each cheek so he would know she was ready.  He gripped the arm pads tightly bracing himself.  She drew her arm back and gave him ten hard spanks in rapid succession on the fullest part of his bottom, which started to redden immediately.

She waited a brief moment allowing her husband to squirm, anxiously anticipating the next series of stinging spanks as he let out a small whimper. She began to rhythmically cover his bottom, thighs and sit spot with sharp paddle strokes and watched as a purple hue started to show.  Her husband strained against the restraints trying unsuccessfully to reposition himself to diminish the impact of the swats that were building in speed and intensity.  She put her hand on his low back to steady him and began to flick her wrist at the end of each slap to produce a sting he felt intensely.

His whimpers turned to cries of pain, his ass on fire with each successive, unrelenting paddle stroke. “Please, Miss, I’ve learned my lesson...I’m so sorry for being selfish and thoughtless,” he pleaded with her through tears.  With his pleas she further increased the intensity and focused solely on his sit spot knowing he would feel this most acutely during his drive.  His bottom was quite purple at this point and she knew he was getting close to surrendering to his punishment completely. 

She continued with rapid, hard spanks until she could see he was no longer gripping the hand pads and his head was resting in the cradle, his body going limp.  He was sobbing quietly and he was no longer attempting to plead with her for the punishment to end. She continued with the hard swats on his sit spot and thighs, but paddled him more slowly. “I’m glad to hear you’ve learned your lesson, young man!” she scolded punctuating the “young man” with two intense tattoos on his bruised behind.

He could only nod his head through his sobs and she could feel he was truly repentant for his behavior.  “Next time, when I ask you to take action on an important case for me, you’re going to remember to do it, aren’t you?” she questioned while continuing the slow, but intense paddle strokes.

“Yes, Miss,” he sobbed shakily.

“You’re also going to think twice before backtalking me, isn’t that right?” she admonished with two more hard licks.

“Yes, Miss,” he eked out through his tears.

She gave him four light taps on his full bottom, then set The Enforcer down on the side table.  She began to rub his back lightly with one hand as she smoothed the hair on his head with the other indicating the punishment was over.  He began to breathe more slowly and to get his crying under control.  “You took your punishment well.  I’m proud of you,” she said soothingly.

She started to loosen the buckles on his legs, back and arms revealing red marks where he had strained against the leather. She helped him lift his upper body so he was just kneeling on the breaks, then held his arm firmly as he stepped onto the floor.  He held onto her shoulders as she assisted him with stepping into his underwear, then she pulled them up. She kept a soft robe hanging on the wall which she held up as he slid his arms into the sleeves, then she wrapped him up and closed the robe with the outer robe tie.

“Now, I want you to gather your clothes, go upstairs and bring down the black Snug Plug and the lube, and meet me back in the office,” she instructed calmly.

“The b-black one, Miss?” Paul stammered, swallowing nervously knowing this was the largest plug in their collection.

”You heard me properly,” she replied.

He stared at her a moment, discombobulated from the intense spanking he had just received, then walked gingerly over to the chair to gather up his clothes and to head back to the house.  As he walked out the door of the shed, Miranda cleaned and disinfected the spanking chair and The Enforcer.  She then hung the paddle back in its rightful place on the wall, closed the curtain and walked out of the shed, sliding the door closed behind her.

When she arrived back in the kitchen, she poured a glass of water for her husband and a glass of wine for herself.  She walked back to the office and sat down on her office chair to wait for Paul. When he walked through the office door, he had changed into some loose sweatpants and a t-shirt.  He was holding the requested items.  “Set those down here on the desk,” she directed, pointing to the corner of the desk.

He was limping slightly as he moved next to the desk, setting the items down.  She loosened the drawstring on his sweatpants and pulled them and his underwear down to his knees.  She then helped him over her lap. “As promised, your punishment also includes having the Snug Plug in your bottom for your trip back to the city.  You are not to remove it.  Do you understand me?” she inquired.

“Yes, Miss,” Paul replied quietly.

His bottom would be bruised for some time. She applied lube liberally to the butt plug and had to apply some pressure to insert it fully.  Her husband had received the butt plug many times and knew to relax while she inserted it; he definitely did not want a swat of encouragement to loosen up at this point.  

Once properly plugged, she helped him stand up and let him pull up his underwear and sweatpants.  She handed him the glass of water which he drank down quickly, then they walked to the front door together.  “Text me when you’re on your way home,” she said, then gave him a goodbye kiss. 

He walked slowly out the front door to the car.  She watched him drive off, then returned to the office to refocus on her case.  Although she had a lot of work left to do, she decided to check her personal email.  She had received an email from her play partner.  She grinned slightly as she clicked on the email to see what her naughty friend had in store for her.

THE END