Madison’s Lesson

I paced around my room anxiously. I was waiting to find out what my fate was going to be or, more precisely, just how long I'd be grounded. It had only been about fifteen minutes since my parents went to talk with our neighbor, Mrs Jennings. She was a widow in her early seventies, and lived on a corner lot four houses down from us.

Earlier that day, I had been on a walk around the neighborhood when I noticed that the orange tree in her backyard was in full bloom, and the oranges were huge. I made a really dumb decision then. I suppose it's the kind one makes at the age of seventeen. Though I doubt that my sister Naomi, who is two years my junior, would have done something like this.

I hopped Mrs Jennings' back fence to steal an orange. My plan didn't go at all the way I'd hoped. I ended up knocking over a small statue in her backyard and breaking it. The commotion brought her outside where I was promptly caught. I confessed to everything and apologized profusely. She said that she'd call my parents and speak with them before deciding whether or not police needed to get involved. Then she said that I could go home.

I went home and once again came clean to my parents. After receiving Mrs Jennings’ call, they went to speak with her in person. I looked at the clock again. Twenty minutes had passed. I just wanted them to hurry up and get home. I was sure that I would be getting scolded and grounded, and I just wanted everything to be over with.

Five minutes later, my parents came home and I was summoned to the living room to discuss the situation. My dad began the discussion.

"We've spoken with Mrs Jennings, and she has agreed not to get law enforcement involved, thankfully."

That was a relief, but then dad continued.

"We told her that we intended to ground you, and how you'd miss out on the arts festival this weekend. We felt that was sufficient, but then Mrs Jennings presented us with an interesting alternative."

"What's the alternative?" I asked.

"Well, Mrs Jennings would like you to go and pay her a visit. She wants to discipline you herself."

"Discipline me? How exactly?"

Mom chimed in then.

"She's going to give you a spanking."

"A spanking?" I replied, perplexed.

"Yes, she asked us if we'd allow that option instead of grounding you, and we agreed. She'd like you to go visit her as soon as possible. Oh, and she also wants you to wear a short skirt. She said, ‘Not too far above the knee,’ to quote her precisely."

"Oh," was the only thing I could think of saying in response.

Dad spoke once again.

"We agreed to this because it allows the matter to be settled as quickly as possible."

"Okay, " I said. "I'll get changed and go over there."

Back in my room, I took off the shorts I had been wearing and put on a loose-fitting white skirt that looked nice with the light blue shirt I had on. I was still quite shocked that this was happening. My own parents had phased out spanking as a means of discipline as my sister and I got older.

The last time a spanking was administered in our house was seven years earlier. Naomi and I had gotten into trouble together that time. Both of our parents had confronted us about it together. Since we all knew what the outcome would be, our spankings then were carried out simultaneously. I went over dad's knee, and Naomi went over mom's. To be honest, I'm not sure which of us had it worse. In my experience, mom was the harder spanker of the two, while dad usually gave more swats. That time, though, we both got over a dozen. It was an experience neither of us ever wanted to repeat.

After I changed clothes and checked myself in the mirror one more time, I started for the front door. I ran into Naomi in the hallway, and a brief conversation ensued.

"Hey, I overheard what happened. Is Mrs Jennings really going to spank you?" she asked.

"That's what I've been told."

"Sorry to hear that, sis."

"It's alright. I've earned it."

"Well, good luck," she said with a worried expression on her face. Naomi then hugged me before I departed.

I got out the door and made my way to the sidewalk. I tried to project an air of confidence about myself, but deep down I was terrified. I had no idea exactly how Mrs Jennings was going to spank me, and that's what worried me the most. What would she use? Did she have an old belt her husband left behind? Maybe a big wooden hairbrush? Was she going to make me go into her backyard and cut a switch? I also wondered how hard of a spanking this would be. Would I have big dark bruises and be unable to sit comfortably for two weeks, or would she stop before it got that far?

Only four houses down, and this felt like the longest walk I'd ever taken. I was walking a bit slower than normal too. I knew I should probably go much faster. The quicker I got there, the quicker I'd be done getting my backside thrashed, and on my way back home. Some kind of self-preservation instinct had kicked in, though, and chosen to delay the proceedings as long as possible. Maybe it was a good thing, I thought to myself. Maybe it gave me more time to mentally prepare.

I rang the front doorbell and waited probably a minute or less for an answer, though it seemed like much longer. When Mrs. Jennings answered the front door, I was so nervous that I couldn't put together a coherent sentence.

What came out when I spoke was, "Hello, I'm Madison."

"So it seems," she replied with a slight chuckle. "Come on in."

I stepped inside to her living room. Quite a lovely space. Hardwood floors with a large area rug. I couldn't remember if I had ever been inside her house before. I was still quite tense as I entered.

"I need you to do a small favor for me, dear."

"Certainly," I replied.

"If you could step into the dining room and bring the chair from the head of the table. It's a little heavy and dragging it in here is a bit much for me."

The dining chair did feel a bit heavy. Not so bad for me, but for someone in their early seventies I could understand how it would be a challenge. She had me position the chair facing the couch. She then invited me to have a seat on the couch, and she sat across from me in the dining chair.

"How are you doing today, Madison?" she inquired politely.

"I'm doing well, thank you. I just want to say that I'm sorry for going into your backyard without permission, and for breaking the little statue. Also, for trying to steal an orange from your tree."

"I accept your apology, sweetheart. Just for future reference, you can always come knock on my door and ask for a few oranges if you like. I've been very fortunate with that tree."

She said that in such a kind-hearted way, and it made me feel an even stronger twinge of guilt than I already did.

"Did your parents tell you why I asked for you to come over?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied, sounding a little shaky.

"What did they tell you?"

"Um, they said you were going to, uh, discipline me."

"And did they tell you how I was going to discipline you?"

I dreaded having to say it out loud. My nervous response came out sounding like a question.

"They said you would give me a spanking?"

"That's right. I just wanted to be sure you understood why you were here. There's something I want you to know beforehand. Madison, I don't think that you're a bad person at all. That's not why I'm doing this today. I'm doing it to remind you that you're a good person."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear. I'm glad that your parents agreed not to ground you when I offered them this alternative. I know you were looking forward to this weekend's arts festival. I take no joy whatsoever in doing this. I'd guess that you probably have a few questions about the spanking you're going to get. Am I right about that?"

Of course, she was right. I had been especially worried about the details. What was she going to use? How hard would it be? How many licks was I getting?

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright, bear with me for a moment, and I'll try to answer as many of your questions up front as I can. I have a daughter by the name of Emily. She's grown up and married now, but when she was younger there were a few occasions that I had to discipline her.

“Today, I'm going to spank you exactly like I would spank her. I'll be using my right hand, and I'll take you over my knee, and spank you on your bare bottom. Don't worry, dear, I'll wait until I have you in position before I bare your bottom. That's part of the reason I asked you to wear the short skirt. Also, I wanted to see just how nice you looked dressed up."

I couldn't help but smile a little at that last statement. She had a question for me then.

"Remind me again, dear, how old are you?"

"I'm seventeen, ma'am."

"Oh my! Seventeen? Well, the bad news is that the number of swats I give is going to be your age plus six. Again, just like how I used to spank my Emily. It's unfortunate that it has to be twenty-three. I know it's a hard lesson to take, but you'll be better off for it in the long run."

Mrs Jennings' friendly demeanor helped me to relax some. Clearly, she was a kind and caring woman who didn't really want to hurt me. Plus, she didn't seem to be very physically strong. She would probably go easy on me and this spanking would likely be more embarrassing than painful. I was comfortable with the idea as much as I could be. I felt that I'd deserved it, and I resolved to take my due punishment. I thought to myself that maybe if it was a really light spanking I'd exaggerate my response a little for her benefit.

"Do you have any other questions for me dear?" she asked.

"No, ma'am."

"Is there anything that you'd like to say? This is a two-way conversation after all."

"Yes. I just want to say that I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused today."

"I understand, sweetie. Oh, if I may offer you one piece of advice first. You might want to tie your hair back before we begin, so it's not hanging down in your face while you're bent over."

I took her up on that advice and it would turn out to be a wise decision. Possibly the first one I had made that day.

"I'll understand if you need a minute or two to prepare yourself. When you're ready you can just get up, and stand at my right side."

I really wanted to get this over with, so I got up immediately, and walked to her right side. She had me bend over her lap, and position myself with my backside sticking straight up. I felt her pull the hem of my skirt above my waist, and then pull my panties about halfway down my thighs. My face went red with embarrassment. Mrs Jennings put her left hand in the small of my back, presumably to hold me in place, then put her right hand down on my bottom.

"Madison, are you ready to begin?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright dear, brace yourself."

Just like putting my hair in a ponytail, those words turned out to be excellent advice.

Mrs Jennings raised her right hand up. Apparently, she raised it much higher than I thought. It came crashing down with a loud smack, sending a shockwave of pain through me that greatly surpassed my expectations. My eyes widened at the sudden impact, but the rest of my body froze. I think I even held my breath for just a brief moment. It was as if my brain was stuck, and didn't know what to do next.

I felt the after-effect of searing hot sting envelop my backside across the middle. Seconds later, another such impact followed. This time I gasped. I had expected this to be something maybe a little harder than a birthday spanking. I came to the realization that I had greatly underestimated what I was getting into.

The third strike landed and I let out a whimper. My brain may not have known what to do at first, but it was starting to come around. In the worst possible course of action, it quickly did the math, bringing me to the understanding that I now had twenty more of these to go.

When my parents had spanked me, they would rain down the swats really fast. Either one of them would have been halfway done by this point. Mrs Jennings, on the other hand, was slow and methodical in the way she spanked. The swats were landing about five to six seconds apart. I suppose she did that to let me feel the effect of one before delivering the next. I'm not really sure.

She continued at the same slow pace. Number four made my eyes start to water, and number five sent the tears streaming down my face. I was breathing heavily already when number six opened the floodgates. I began sobbing as the spanking continued. My backside heated up more with every strike. I let out a loud yelp when number seven struck down low, covering both my bottom and the backs of my thighs just a little bit.

She changed where the swats landed a lot as well. Some landed on both cheeks, some just on one. Some landed up high, some lower down in my most tender areas. I lost count of how many swats I'd gotten somewhere around maybe nine or ten. This brought on a feeling of panic to accompany the other misery since I didn't know how many I had left. After a few more, a particularly hard swat landed, and there was an extra long pause afterwards. That's when I heard her speak again.

"Just six more to go."

That wasn't much of a relief. She landed the next one on my left sit spot, and I screamed out loud at how much it hurt. The next one landed right on top of it. She then adjusted her aim to the right sit spot for the next two, giving much the same effect. The final two landed right across both sit spots. I screamed out in agony one more time, then continued sobbing loudly. Mrs Jennings took her right hand away, and with her left hand began rubbing my back gently.

"Take a moment and catch your breath, dear. It's over now."

It took me probably a minute or two to steady my breathing and get the crying under control. Mrs Jennings told me I could get up when I was ready. I stood up slowly, and rubbed my sore backside over my skirt. Mrs Jennings stood up and hugged me. Then she got some tissues and helped me dry my eyes a little. She told me I could use her restroom down the hall to wash my face. I was so distraught that I had forgotten my panties were still halfway to my knees.

I walked awkwardly to the restroom and shut the door behind me. I washed my face, and collected myself. I was glad to wash off my make-up, because all the crying had left me looking like a circus clown. Before pulling my panties back up, I turned around, lifted my skirt, and looked at my bottom in the mirror. Parts of it looked cherry red, and others looked darker, almost maroon. I had to admit that I was amazed she could do that with only her hand.

When I got myself all sorted out, I went back to the living room. Mrs Jennings had gathered up a small bag of oranges for me to take home. We chatted for a few minutes, and I hugged her once again before departing.

I could still feel a residual sting as I walked back home. Four houses down once again felt like a long walk. None of the neighbors were outside, and I was grateful for that. I really didn't want to be seen at that moment. When I entered, I saw dad sitting in the kitchen. I set the bag of oranges down and told him they were a gift from Mrs Jennings.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"I learned my lesson."

"Are you okay?"

"I will be."

"Good. Oh, the mail came while you were gone. There's a magazine for you here," he said as he handed it to me.

"Thank you. If it's okay, I think I'm going to go read this in my room."

"Sure darling. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Thanks dad."

In my room, I read through the magazine while lying front side down on my bed. I heard a knock on my door followed by, "It's Naomi."

"Come on in," I said.

She entered and closed the door behind her. Then she walked over to my bedside with a concerned look. She almost looked like a nurse attending to a patient.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I'm doing okay."

"Did Mrs Jennings really spank you?"

"Yes, she did."

"What did she use?"

"Her hand."

"How many did you get?"


"Ouch. How bad was it?"

"See for yourself."

I lifted my skirt so Naomi could at least see the part of my backside not covered by underwear.

"Whoa!" Naomi exclaimed. " Did she do that through clothes?"

"No, she spanked my bare bottom, and spanked it hard. It was a lesson I won't soon forget."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"You came to hang out with me, that's good enough."

Naomi leaned in and hugged me then. She's such a sweet girl.

The End

© Paul Tecres 2023