Mother Vera's Secret

by Papa

The sounds, the unmistakable sounds of deliberate, maternal discipline drifted down to the first floor hallway from Vera's bedroom above despite the closed bedroom door. They were sounds quite distinct and apart from the undercurrent of Vera's muffled lecturing. Like punctuation Terry's cries and sobs could be heard clearly in response to the drumbeat of her Mother's steady smacking. It sounded to Leona like Vera was giving her oldest daughter the spanking of her life. As long time, old friends are wont to do, Leona had come to Vera's house unannounced and unexpected but as she entered and listened, she felt like an intruder. The sounds of Vera disciplining her daughter stopped Leona in her tracks.

She debated briefly about tiptoeing back through the kitchen rear door and to her car. She could come back later. There was no way to tell how long Vera might have been engaged administering her discipline. If she just started, Leona knew she was in for a lengthy wait. She should leave, Leona knew . . . still, Leona stood rooted to the spot.


"Oh! Ohhhhh! Oh, Mother, Moth. . .!"

"Stop your squirming! I warned you, young lady . . . ! You were to be home no later than midnight! I warned you what would happen if you were not! This is the second time this month you have disobeyed me! Now, stop your squirming or perhaps you wish me to use the strap as well. . .now be still!"


"OUCH! OW! OWWWW. . .! No, Mother, don't take your strap. . .uMMMMPHHH! Oh, Mother. . .! I told Tommy. . .(OWW! OWW!). . .but he wouldn't listen.."

"Mother, indeed, young lady!" SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! "When I finish with you. . .(SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!). . .I'll have something to say to Tommy's Mother. . ."


Leona listened and felt sorry for Terry. More accurately, she felt sorry for Terry's bottom. It would be swollen red for days. Vera's spankings were quite serious in the aftermath, Leona knew that for a fact! Leona, at the same time, considered that Terry might be deserving of every bit of the spanking she was receiving, over her Mother's knees no doubt. She had seen Vera's daughter flirting outrageously where she worked as a rollerskating carhop at the B&I Root Beer Drive-In, dipping and bending low her ample chest to give some boys a peek at her fulsome bosom. She had seen Terry prancing around town in sweaters a full size too small that deliberately accented her breasts. They were huge and abundant like her Mother's, and Leona once came upon the girl changing into a baggy pullover before returning home. Leona had spoken to her about it and Terry acknowledged that her Mother would likely punish her if she knew.

"I'll tell you this much, young lady," Leona had said, "if I ever catch my daughter flaunting her boobs she'll spend an hour across my knees!"

"I know," Terry had responded, "but maybe that's where Matthew should spend some time, too. Your precious Matthew is certainly no angel!" Leona thought Terry was impudent in her remark but held her tongue. She couldn't fault the girl for being perceptive and telling the truth.

Idly, and for no apparent reason that she could give, Leona listened to Vera administering discipline to her 18-year-old and perversely wondered if the girl were still a virgin. "A miracle if she still is, with all the teasing she does," Leona thought.

SPANK!SPANK!SPANK!SPANK! (". . .and how did your panties become torn, young lady. . .?") SPANK!SPANK!SPANK!SPANK. . .!

Leona shook her head, Terry's words coming back to her. And realizing that was why she wanted to see Vera today.

Vera seemed to have stepped up the intensity and the pace of smacking the girl's backside, Leona decided. She wondered how long Vera's maternal fury had been building, wondered too if Vera had undressed Terry and was spanking her naked. After all, Terry was 18 years old. Leona doubted that would have made any difference to Terry's Mother. Removing every stitch of their clothing was something Leona always did before spanking her children.

"OHH! OHHHH!" SPANK!SPANK!SPANK!SPANK!SPANK! ("If I tell you. . .") SPANK!SPANK!SPANK! Leona reached for cups and saucers in the cabinet above the sink. . .Vera seemed to be concluding her punishment. . .(". . .if I tell you anything, young lady, I expect obedience. Is that clear. . .!") SPANK!SPANK!SPANK!SPANK! ("Yesss! Yes, Yes!")

SPAAANK! SPAAANK! SPAAANK! ("Yes. . .what?!")

"Yes, Mother! Yess! Yess, Mother. . .!"

Terry's buttocks were quite plump, quite soft. Consequently, her bottom was pleasing to the eye. The lips of her sex were more than average in thickness and well coated with a heavy growth of her dark genital hair. Arousal and pain competed for Terry's attention. All of her sex was displayed to Mother's view by Terry's kicking and bucking gyrations, a natural testament to the vigor Mother applied as she spanked, and Vera could plainly see her daughter's increasing lubricity.

Now Vera lowered the direction of her spanking and brought fire with her hand to the upper region of her girl's very shapely thighs. Vera tried to ignore the glistening patches of pink her spanking revealed through the dense hair of her daughter's genitals. . .she had more difficulty distracting herself past the surprising awareness that her daughter had an abundantly developed clitoris which was exceptionally prominent. . .

spank!spank!spank!spank!spank!spank. . .!

Vera stopped. Leona was about to create a diversion by knocking on the door, as though she had just arrived. . .then held her hand at final words by Vera.

"Now, you get your saucy ass to the corner, young woman!" Sounds now followed of stumbling feet, hurrying feet. ". . .Put your hands on your head!" A heavier step now, probably Vera, and a drawer slamming shut. . ."You won't need your clothes tonight, Miss. . .you're not going anywhere. I'm not finished with you. . .!"

"Ohhh. . ."

Yes, Leona concluded, Vera had taken off her daughter's clothes before putting her across her lap. She let her hand fall in a series of knocks. . .

"Hello. . .hello! Anybody home. . .? It's Leona. . ."

"Come in, come in, Lee. . .!" Vera called from upstairs, "Put some cups on the kitchen table. . .I'll be right down. I'm. . .I'm. . .taking care of some matters. . .I'll be right there. Put some water on for tea."

Leona heard muffled words from the floor above. Probably a few more words from Vera to her daughter, Leona thought, of what was still to come. Like Vera Leona had three children of her own. With Vera Terry was the only one still living at home. Well, mine are not exactly children anymore, Leona admitted silently as she filled the kettle, not two boys and a girl all of them now in their late teens. It was the middle boy, Matthew, that Leona really wanted to talk about with Vera. Matthew was almost 18, only a few months younger than Terry with the blistered bottom upstairs, and his behaviour for months had taxed Leona's patience to her limit. She hoped Vera could help her.

Leona poured the boiling water into the teapot and set it aside to steep. She could hear Vera moving about upstairs.

Leona also heard a loud SMACK!

SMACK! SMACK! . . .then twice again and very loud.


Vera had opened her bedroom door, Leona realized, which explained the clear loudness of the smack by Vera's hand on Terry's buttocks. Apparently Vera had begun leaving the room, then returned. Leona wondered. . .

"I told you to keep your hands away from your bottom! It's meant to feel on fire, young lady!"


"Shall I put you back across my knees. . .?

"No. . .no, Mother! I'll behave, I promise. . .!"

Terry was not the only one to call Vera "Mother". She was known among many of Fulton's young people as Mother Vera although never with any disrespect to their own maternal parent.


The legend of Mother Vera was born quite by accident.

Vera had given her husband three children, two daughters and a son and reared them with as firm a maternal hand as children whose father's job required much travel would ever know. At the same time, it must also be said that Vera dispensed as much compassion and love to her children as she gave them discipline across her knees when they misbehaved. Both her son and one daughter were well married and already had given her two grandchildren.

Vera acquired the honorific itself while playing Bridge one Saturday evening with a group of neighbor women. She had told her partner as another dealt a hand that she would have a much happier homelife if she would stop trying to please her husband all the time. The subject (no one remembered who raised it) had been a relatively taboo topic for the times -- unfulfilled sexual needs of wives after seeing to requirements of their husbands in the marriage bed. It was, after all, the 1950's and women still were reminded every week by one program on the newly available toy called Television that fathers knew best.

"What do you suggest I do, then?" Lynn Harris said from an adjoining table, eavesdropping on what Vera had said. Lynn laughed without mirth, eyebrows upraised and rolling her eyes to the ceiling, none of which was lost on the other Bridge partners. Lynn was an outspoken woman but to cover her embarrassment, she hastened to explain. She complained that her husband never even seemed to care whether she finished, instead, "he just rolls off me after his own climax and goes to sleep." Several women nodded their heads in sympathy (most of them, though, with similar visions of Lynn's experience because the same thing happened in their own beds). Vera left the question unanswered for a lengthy minute.

"It will take some courage. I suggest that the next time that happens, you get out of bed. Say nothing. Walk around to his side and throw all the covers to the floor, pull him by his ear from the bed and put him across your knees and then. . .then spank him as you discipline your children when they are naughty. Spank him as he has never been spanked before!

". . .telling him with every smack that he is never to leave you on the edge ever, ever again! Then when you have finished return to bed. . .wait a second or two and simply speak a few words."

"Ohhh! Mother Vera's recipe for a happy bed, right? And what are those few magic words. . .?

"You simply say, 'must I get up again. . .?'," Vera said, her eyes on her cards, "I doubt that you will have to repeat the lesson. Believe me, if you've spanked him as you should, you won't have to teach him twice."

Everyone blushed. Everyone laughed.

The name stuck and everyone called her "Mother Vera" ever since. That was six months ago. A week after that game, Lynn telephoned her in the middle of the night, all excited and breathless. Vera was often alone because of her husband's sales travels and those close to her never fretted about calling at any hour.

"You were right, Ver! You were right. . .!" Lynn was talking in a breathless, hoarse whisper, her words tripping over each other. "It happened again tonight and I remembered what you said, so I did it. . .you know, what you told me to do. I got up and I spanked Harold until he begged me to stop and, Vera. . .Vera! he's just finished giving me the f. . . of my life!" Vera mumbled a reply and hung up the telephone. Eventually Vera got back to sleep. She slept smiling.

Word spread. After that, other friends began calling for Vera's advice. Of all kinds. Vera developed a reputation. Then a Mother confided to Vera about the impudent behavior of her children even after punishment had been threatened. . .and sometimes given. Vera offered a solution, sometimes offering her own services depending on the situation.

One day a misbehaving youngster was brought to Mother Vera -- A young lady of 15. She spent the weekend with Vera. She never sassed her Mother again.

All that Vera insisted upon was permission in writing to use whatever discipline or corrective method she deemed appropriate and to have no interruption. Neither she nor the naughty one was to be questioned afterwards. They were conditions happily met. In every instance but one, after one weekend with Mother Vera the misbehaviour abruptly ceased.

Word of Vera's successful implementation of better behaviour was passed across a breakfast table at the Fulton Diner. . .then from one chair to another at the Fulton Best-Curl Beauty Salon. . .around a bridge table at the Morrisons. . .

. . .and soon Vera's telephone rang with a plea from one Mother, then another for help with a son. Another called about a disobedient daughter. Then another's boy. . .

The equally astounding thing of it was that any boy or girl who had spent a required weekend with Mother Vera always appeared happy and eager to see her in public, always crossed the avenue to say hello.

Today, Leona Price came to Vera for help.

Leona heard Vera's step on the stairs. She poured two cups of steaming tea. The two women sat in the comfortable silence that confidantes enjoy. Vera came into the kitchen. She wore a floor length, sleeveless robe. It was a costume, of sorts, but one which left her arm unimpeded and which she always wore when giving discipline. Growing up, whenever her children saw Mother reach for her robe, they knew. . .they knew well what was to come.

"You heard?" Vera said at length.

"I heard."

"She's needed that for quite some time, you know," Vera said.

Leona made no comment.

"Are you visiting so you can finally tell me what's been troubling you? Something is the matter, Lee. . .has been for weeks. Don't tell me I'm wrong. I know I'm not. Now what is it?" Leona marveled anew at Vera's perception. They had been intimate for years, at the same time being faithful to seeing to their husbands' needs. They had found in each other something only another woman can sense. What they felt for each other was their secret. Vera always cut to the essential core of a situation particularly when Leona was concerned. Leona thought it to be a great gift.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about Matthew. His behavior is atrocious. Disobedient. I get back talk every time I. . ."

"He's nearly 18, dear. . .almost grown."

"When he is out on his own, when he has his own place, well, he can do as he likes!" Leona said with a vehemence that surprised Vera. "So long as he is living at home, I expect him to do as I wish!"

"Why doesn't your husband. . ."

"I handle the discipline in our home. Always have. I discipline my husband just as you do and use a paddle on him just as often as you do on George. Matthew, though, is a rebel and my spanking him -- which I do, Vera, which I do -- does not seem to have any lasting effect. He continues to ignore our curfew. I have found beer in his closet. . .and I wondered if you. . .well, several Mothers have. . ."

"You don't have to ask, Lee, of course I'll help. I've seen him act up a few times that would have earned him a whipping if he was mine. Bring him to me, Leona. The hand of a stranger often has a longer lasting effect. I warn you, though. I'll give Matthew the same sore bottom my daughter will have before I'm done. . .perhaps even more so."

"You aren't done? With Terry, I mean?"

"Far from it, Lee. She will spend the next hour in the corner. . .and then she'll be across my knees for another session before I put her to bed ," Vera said. "I don't know how she got them, but I found birth control pills hidden in the back of her bottom drawer. Under her panties, in fact, and isn't that fitting? When can you bring Matthew?"

Leona rinsed her cup and came back to Vera.

"Tomorrow." Leona did not mention that discipline at Vera's hand was what she had hoped her dear friend would offer. Did not tell Vera, either, of already having told Matthew that he would spend the weekend with Mother Vera. Nor that her son responded with insolence. Vera's voice dissembled her thoughts.

"Good. The earlier the better. Give him breakfast. I'll be up by 7 o'clock. So will Terry. If you don't mind I'll have Terry spend the day with you." Leona said she'd be happy to have Terry.

"Don't take any sass from her, Leona, 18 or not. If she does, well. . .you don't need my permission to attend to it," Vera added, "bring her home tomorrow evening. Dinnertime. I'll keep Matthew overnight."

Leona stood to go. She bent to her friend and kissed her.

"Does Matthew have a robe?" Vera asked. Leona nodded her head. "Have him bring it," Vera said, "and have him carry a note that says it simply. Clearly. Something like. . .'Vera, Please discipline my son.' Sign it but don't put it in an envelope. He will have read it, I'm sure, before I have opened the door."

Leona frowned but said she would do as Vera indicated. She felt Vera was her best hope of putting Matthew back on the road to proper behaviour. Her two other children responded quite acceptably when their behaviour merited a lengthy private time across her knees. On those occasions, all Leona had to do was take her paddle from its hook and point to the stairs. They knew where Mother was directing them. And why she closed her bedroom door once inside. Mother never allowed any interruption when she was giving correction. Matthew, on the other hand, had been in a stage of. . .well, what else could anyone call it but rebellion ever since he turned 16. If Matthew didn't respond to the kind of spanking she had just heard Vera give her daughter -- with still another soon to follow, Lord help her -- Leona thought, well. . .

With Leona's departure, Vera returned upstairs, cinching her robe tight as she moved. Terry turned her head hearing her Mother close the door. She still stood where she had been told.

Vera sat as she had before.

"Bring my paddle. You know where I keep it in my bedside table. . ."

"Oh! Oh, Mother! Please. . .!" Terry, naked and still with her hands laced atop her head began to snuffle. She obeyed and dispensing with any attempt to cover herself, Terry moved to do as Mother instructed her.

"When I have finished with you, young woman, you will go at once to bed! Oh. And by the way. . .Matthew Price will be here in the morning. It seems he needs to spend some time across my knees, as well! Now, come over here. . .!"

Weeping, supporting her breasts with her hands, and feeling unexpected but intense arousal for no reason that she could identify, Terry laid herself across her Mother's lap.

Vera's paddled Terry's swollen bottom a long time. . .


The next morning, Leona rang Vera's doorbell at a few minutes past 7. Matthew sat sulking in the car. His robe, neatly folded, lay on his lap. He glowered as his Mother stepped to the farmhouse porch, then surreptitiously edged open the folded sheet of paper which she had told him to give Mother Vera.

"You are to consider Vera as having my permission to deal with you as she sees fit, Matthew. I doubt very much that you will get away with being disobedient to her, or insolent. . .and I warn you, if I do learn you have not done as you were told, you will pay a heavy price indeed when I get you home. Now, you mind. . .!"

Matthew read his Mother's note to Vera and he suddenly realized. . .

A tapping on the window brought his head up. Terry, her eyes puffy and glistening as though from recent tears, was telling him to open the door.

"My Mother is waiting. . ."

Matthew exited the car quicker than he had thought he would (but he was nervous and admitted it to himself). He noticed that Terry was not her usual bouncy, flirting self. She wore a dull, shapeless dress that did nothing to show off what Matthew knew was a spectacular figure and, he noticed, she seemed to take a long time easing herself to a sitting position in the passenger seat.

"Mother says you're going to spend the night," Terry whispered as she gingerly lowered herself into the car, "maybe we'll have some comparisons to make." Terry didn't smile but stared straight ahead.

Matthew climbed the porch steps. His Mother, stern of face, cautioned him again with her eyes. She extended her forefinger to his face, saying only, "Remember what I told you. . .you mind!" She did not see him into the house.

The door was open. Matthew could not see Terry's Mother but he heard her speak briskly, "I am waiting, Matthew!" The young man watched his Mother's car as it left the driveway, then turned and entered the house. Vera, standing to the side of the door, closed it behind him.

The sight of his Mother's friend startled Matthew. At the same time, Mother Vera's garment triggered sudden sensations in his groin. He tried to will himself calm. Vera wore a black, cowled satiny robe. It covered her body from neck to feet. It opened just briefly when she moved and suggested to Matthew's inflamed attention that she might not be wearing any clothes beneath it.

Unknown to him, Vera was startled to find herself reacting so strongly in the presence of the young man before her. She knew she had to take charge at once. Much experience raising her own children had taught her that much. Matthew was a well-built strapping young man, almost 18 and with burgeoning hormones. He was on the edge of that invisible time line between youth and maturity. Perhaps he had crossed that line. In any case, Vera knew that to establish immediate control was vital.

"You seem to think, young man, that approaching 18 years of age entitles you somehow to defy your Mother. Is that so?"

"So. . .?" Matthew's tone was more suitable for an argument than an admission. He summoned an attitude. It was a mistake. He learned so almost at once.

"I see. . ." Vera said.

She turned back to the door. With deliberate slowness, she put a large, old-fashioned key into the lock and turned it. The sound of the bolt locking the door was loud (as she knew it would be). Then she turned back to the young man who started at the sound.

"Listen carefully to me, Matthew. I do not repeat myself. You will address me at all times as Mother Vera. Make me tell you anything twice and I will correct you with my hand. Now then, just so we understand each other. . ."

Practiced hands pulled the youth to her. Her left hand gripped the oversize belt buckle that he wore and turned him, all in the same motion that Vera raised her right hand in a wide swinging arc.


Matthew felt fire burst upon his bottom, his tight jeans not offering the slightest cushioning to Mother Vera's broad open hand.

With equal suddenness, she braced her foot on the second step of the staircase. The movement raised her sturdy thigh to just the right height for her purpose and before Matthew could react, Vera had bent him across her leg.

CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! ("owwwww! OUCCCCH!") Vera held the boy immobile.

CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! She held him pulled tightly snug against her great bosom. The motion of his body against her breasts was pleasing to her in the extreme. For his part, Matthew was aware of how soft and yielding Mother Vera's bosom felt. Vera's hand carved the air in a blur. CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! ("When I tell you to do something. . .young man. . .) CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! CRAAAACK! (". . .I do not expect to have to tell you twice. . .! Is that clear?")



Matthew seemed unable to capture his voice. He felt tears filling his eyes, he had never before experienced such pain, bursting like fireworks with every blow that Mother Vera spanked on his bottom. The young man struggled to remember he was 18 years old. . .to remember he did not want to cry! It was a futile effort. Matthew found himself unable to hold back his crying. . .and he felt an enormous need to empty his bladder. No more than two minutes had gone by but to Matthew time felt like it had stopped. Quickly vanished was his worry about embarrassment. He began to sob. The speed with which tears had come surprised Vera.

"Please. . .please, Mother Vera. . .! Please stop! (His words stumbling through his sobs. . .) Please take me to the bathroom. . .!"

Then as swiftly as he had found himself bent across Vera's knee and spanked for sassing her, Matthew found himself brought to a standing position. He discovered, too, that in the same smooth motion Mother Vera had unbuckled his belt and unsnapped the waist of his form-hugging jeans. Gripping the elastic of his jockey shorts, and totally ignoring his discomfort, Vera half pulled, half dragged the boy to a small Powder room (also containing Washer and Dryer) at the end reach of the downstairs hall. She stood him before the toilet.

"Do your business," she said, her voice stern, "I am not finished. . .!" Vera's expression was a stony mask. She stood to the side but when she made no move to leave the room, nervous perspiration broke heavily under Matthew's arms.

". . .but Vera. . ."

CRAAAACK! Vera's hand brought a fresh outburst of fire to his buttocks. One spank was enough for Matthew to remember. . .

"How are you to address me!"

". . .I'm sorry, Mother Vera. . .yes, Mother Vera. . .but I can't. . ."

"You told me you needed to pee. Do you or do you not?!" Vera's own pulse raced and she brought herself under control.

"Yes, Mother Vera. . ." Matthew was afraid he would wet himself but with Vera standing right beside him, shyness paralyzed him, ". . .but you're still here. . ."

In response, Vera turned him to her. Her hand flew to his hips, grasped the waistband of his briefs and in a wink, moved to pull his underwear down. She gasped. The garment caught on the length of the young man's piss erection. Young man though he might be, Matthew's penis was. . .well, enormous was the only description she could make and despite herself, Vera felt a surge of long-neglected passion. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest. Matthew stumbled with Vera's effort as she, only barely maintaining her self-control, yanked and stretched the elastic of his briefs until it was about to break before she was able to free the organ. Her fingers could hardly encircle his girth, and even then could not grip with any force, but finally she pointed Matthew's thick penis in the appropriate direction.

"Stop your foolishness! I've raised a son of my own. . .now pee!"

Matthew could hold himself no longer. Blushing, he took himself into his hands and gushed empty the fullness of his bladder. As he did so, Vera left the room and closed the door, taking deep breaths to regain her composure. Does Leona have any idea of how her son has developed, she wondered?

Matthew finished at length and stood uncertain of what he was expected to do. He throbbed with his own arousal. He had never seen a mature woman naked but in the entranceway, just after Mother Vera had closed the door, her robe fell apart and he was sure he glimpsed magnificent breasts and the dark pubic shadow between her legs. For Matthew the glimpsing convinced him Mother Vera's was the most voluptuous body he had ever imagined. No pictures of half-dressed girls that he had seen in magazines could compare with Mother Vera's body hidden within her robe. The afterimages remained brilliant in his memory despite the spanking he had just received. What would his Mother say if she knew the thoughts that flamed in his head? Despite his efforts to think other thoughts (or perhaps, more accurately, because of his efforts) Matthew felt his penis stiffening. . .with another hardness, with another demanding need, throbbing steadily as it rose to his waiting hand. . .

On the other side of the bathroom door, Vera fought down rising waves of passion herself. She intended to send Matthew back to his Mother a chastened and docile boy who would behave properly in future. . .one who would retain an imaged certainty of what awaited him across her knees if ever his Mother gave even the slightest hint he had returned to misbehaviour. The astounding size of the young man's sex tool had thrown her into a confused, excited state of her own. She had thought her husband was large but George was nowhere near Matthew's size.

Vera thought she knew what Leona's son needed, all right. Some serious time across her knees, for one thing. She was certain that Matthew, no matter that he was 18 for all practical purposes, still required some sound, no-nonsense spanking for his behavior. Vera was a firm believer, as her children could well testify, in teaching them proper conduct. There were lengthy lessons learned pants down and over-her-knees. Oh yes, Matthew certainly needed a few doses of her maternal discipline and Vera fully intended to give Matthew full measure of that. At the same time, Vera felt just as strongly that Matthew also needed something else, something that might be better received from a stranger rather than his own Mother. At his age, Matthew needed a Woman to confront him with his own confusion about his developing manhood.

This, naturally, presented a problem for Vera. As Leona's closest friend (and often lover) Vera had quite liberal views concerning sex, considering the decade that it was. Vera's views notwithstanding, she also knew she would not violate Leona's trust. What she did not know was how much Matthew knew about sex. Unfortunately to be almost 18 in the 1950's was a difficult time for either gender. Sex was a topic most often mentioned only in whispers, as though it was something unclean. That boys and girls experimented with their feelings, there was no question. The state of their firing hormones made that a certainty. Also a certainty was their confusion about changes occurring in themselves. In their bodies, in their emotions. Vera was sure that young people learned more sex education and more about differences in gender anatomy in the back seats of cars parked decorously row upon row in drive-ins than ever they learned at home or in biology class. Many parents, in fact, were quite content to be ignorant of how much their children knew -- or did not know -- about sex. Few sat their children down to discuss the subject. Vera was not one of those hesitant parents.

Vera's experience with her own had taught her there was usually a more complex reason for misbehaviour by an 18-year-old than was the case with younger children. In time, Matthew would leave the toilet and the question for her was how to approach the matter of his insolence to his Mother while, at the same time, communicating to Matthew that his misbehaviour simply reflected his inner turmoil. Once he realized that, Vera was sure, he would again be the loving son he had always been for Leona. In a sense, Matthew provided the answer. Vera struck the door sharply with her knuckles.

"Come, come, young man. . .!"

Vera turned the doorknob abruptly opening the door. . .and came upon Matthew with a wad of tissue furiously trying to clean himself. Abundant traces of his still uncompleted ejaculation matted his pubic hair and clung to his chest. His flow continued in involuntary spasms. Vera jumped in shock, gasped with her surprise, and turned her eyes away. For the moment she was unaware that her reaction had thrown her robe fully open. Mmentarily she was unaware that her great, heaving breasts were fully visible, that the dense, hairy expanse of her own pubic region also was open to the young man's eyes. At the sight of Vera, Matthew's face suffused and colored, his eyes drinking in the reality of the woman's body beneath her robe. The direction of Matthew's glance alerted Vera to her state and immediately she knotted the belt of her robe.

Her eyes fixed Matthew. He stood immobile.

SMAAACK! It was an instinctive reaction by Vera, done primarily to help her regain composure and to cover her own embarrassment intruding upon so intimate a moment for the boy.

Vera's arm was a blur, her hand landing solidly with all her power on Matthew's near buttock. He yelped in a hoarse shout from the force of it. Then Vera reached for a washcloth which she moistened with warm water and handed it to the young man. All in silence.

"I told you I was not finished. . .now clean yourself, sir! I will be in the spare room at the top of the stairs, the door is open. Don't keep me waiting."

"Moth. . .Vera. . .I'm sorr. . ."

"Not a word, Matthew! Not one word! Do as you're told. Sorry? Of course, you are sorry." Vera paused. She would make no reference to what she had witnessed. "Matthew," she continued, "you have no idea how sorry you will be before I am finished. . .no idea, indeed!"

Vera closed the door behind her. She had locked the front door. Now she went to the kitchen door in the rear seeing to it that both doors were locked then mounted the stairs. Matthew attended to wiping himself then after belting his pants began climbing the stairs. His feet scuffled on the steps as he made his way as he had been instructed.

He found Vera sitting on a chair in the middle of the room and his breath quickened seeing the paddle she held on her lap.

"Close the door, Matthew." As he turned to do so, Matthew heard, ". . .and lock it! Then come over here."

Matthew stood nervously before Mother Vera, holding his jeans together. "Take off your clothes," she said, her mouth a thin-lipped line.

"But. . .but," Matthew stammered.

"Your behaviour, Matthew, here and at home has been inappropriate," Vera said, deliberately avoiding any reference to his masturbating moments ago. "You knew what to expect when your Mother asked me to attend to you. So long as you are here, I will treat you as one of my own. When my children misbehave, I spank them," she paused, "and I spank them naked.."

"I'm 18 years old, Mother Vera. . ." Matthew interrupted, but his tone was not combative.

"I am going to spank you proper, young man," Vera said, not reacting to his interruption, ". . .I took down your pants before and I will take down your trousers again if I have to, but mark me. . .it will be to your peril if I must tell you again. Now, take off your clothes!" Vera felt a flow of passionate arousal flow from her core. She concentrated on the paddle in her hand and gripped it.

Matthew began to bluster his objections. Vera stood. Matthew stopped his blustering.

The youth before her surrendered. He closed his eyes and shoved his jeans down past his hips, over his buttocks, and he heard them slide to the floor, his briefs with them. He pulled his shirt over his head and held his hands in front of his genitals, covering them as best he could. He felt his organ already stiffening again in the presence of Mother Vera! He didn't know what to do. There was nothing, really, that he could do. . .and no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he felt himself lengthening, hardening. . .

Vera noticed his condition at once and in spite of her own resistance her entire body was conscious of his condition. Her nipples, erect and at a peak of their sensitivity, sent flashes of pleasure as they rubbed against the fabric of her robe, every touch taking her to new peaks of sensation. She gasped and tried to control her breathing. Her hand reached out and gripped the young man's rejuvenating erection bobbing before her, throbbing and jerking spasmodically.

She led him by his rock hard shaft to the bedside where she sat and without a word, turned him across her lap. She had to open her robe and open her thighs enough to accommodate his projecting organ. And Vera felt it brush through her sopping wetness.

She raised her paddle at once.


He screamed, "OWWWWWW. . .!"

Vera adjusted her knees to accommodate his agitation. Satisfied that she had gained his total attention, Vera placed the paddle on the floor in full view. Then she really began to spank his backside, her hand flattening each of his buttocks with every smack. The rosy hue which she had given his backside since spanking him standing in the hallway at the foot of the stairs across her leg became the deeper shade of port wine almost immediately.

"You will not sass me again, young man. . .!"


". . .nor will you sass your Mother again, do you hear. . .!"


. . .you will behave as Leona's son should. . .! Is that clear!" It was not a question.

"Yess! Ahhh..ohhhh..!. . .ummmmmph!" Matthew grunted with the landing of each spank that Mother Vera brought to his burning cheeks. He began whimpering. What agitated him even as much was that with every swing, Mother Vera's soft yet imprisoning thighs held him. . .rubbed him. . .as though in a pumping. He related the sensations to what he felt while pleasuring himself before sleep on so many nights.

He knew from his own experience that he was but brief moments from another ejaculation! The spanking made him kick his legs in a valiant, though very futile, effort to kick himself free. He wanted only to rush to the seclusion of the bathroom where he might come in private. Regardless of the punishment which might -- which he knew would follow. Mother Vera verbalized his misbehaviour to his Mother with every stroke. . .

. . .You may picture Vera not once diminishing her discipline, her spanking strokes hard and relentless and leaning close to his ear and quietly, steadily cautioning him about greater pain awaiting if his deportment did not improve. . .warning that even at his age naughtiness would not be tolerated. . .parading before his mind's eye an ever broadening portrait of Mother Vera administering discipline to his bare bottom -- emphasizing the baring of his bottom -- with strap, with paddle, with slipper, with Victorian school cane. . .and implanting a final thought that filled him with dread, if not fear. The suggestion that if she felt it required, he would receive her discipline in the presence of her own daughter, Terry.

Part of Matthew listened to what continued misbehaviour on his part would bring. . .but with a growing sense that he would soon spill. . .("ohmigod! can't she see what's happening with me!" he wanted to cry). He wept loudly, not caring that she saw him sob.


Mother Vera swung her arm with vigor. Just as Matthew thought he could hold himself no longer. . .Vera brought her right leg around and leglocked him in place. The movement released Matthew's erection. No longer was the friction leading him to an inevitable ending. Gone, too, was Matthew's last grip on fears of irrevocable embarrassment. Matthew no longer felt macho. All he felt was the incredible stinging fire that encompassed his bottom and he began to whimper, to plead. . .to beg.

SPAAANK! SPAAANK! ("Ohhh. . .! Moth. . .Mother Vera! I'll be good. . ." Matthew bawled and blubbered. "I'll be good. . .please, please stop. . .!") SPAAANK! SPAAANK! SPAAANK! SPAAANK. . .!


". . .INDEED YOU WILL, YOUNG MAN. . .! INDEED YOU WILL BEHAVE!" His bottom was pure fire but at least (as far as Matthew was concerned) the mortifying moment of soiling himself on Mother Vera's leg had been avoided with her shifting position. Unknown to Matthew, Vera was fully aware the young man had been just microseconds from the point of no return when she pulled him back from the edge. . .


Vera loosened the leglock securing Matthew and brought her legs together again beneath his squirming hips. He thought he would lose it all in that very instant. . .


"Ohhhh! Please! Please! Ver. . ."

SPAAANK! SPAAANK! "What did you say. . .?"

"Ummmmmph! Mo. . .Moth. . .Mother Vera! Ohhh, please! You must stop. . .!" Matthew could no longer hide his impending humiliation. . ."I'm going to. . .to come!"

Vera stood him.

He felt himself about to spend. . .

"Shhhh. . .Shhhh! You'll be all right. . .don't be afraid. . .!"

Vera's voice adopted an angry tone, but her decision was based more on compassion than any satisfaction for her own needs. She turned and sat Matthew upon her, shoving her leg hard between his own trembling, quivering thighs and set him down, thus giving him an unyielding surface. His rock hardness sat like a cannon between her leg and his belly. . .and Vera shrugged open her robe deliberately. Her great breasts rose in soft invitation to the startled Matthew, her nipples large and erect, prominent against blushing areolas. Vera pulled him into her cleavage and Matthew plunged his face between the great mounds of her pillowy softness.

Vera believed there was little else that she could have done. She did not encourage him. She did not assist him in any way. Nor did she condemn. She said not a word but sat mute. She gently stroked his hair with her right hand, the hand that spanked his bottom to swelling only scant moments before (and would again) murmuring softly until the tumult in his loins calms and settled.

"There, there. . .shhhhh." she kept repeating, "don't be afraid. . ."

Vera made no criticism as she allowed the furious turmoil of Matthew's nature to spend itself. Matthew humped a long time against her warm thigh. When he finally finished and lay panting in her arms, Vera rocked him gently.

Long moments later, Matthew obeyed Vera without any smartmouth when she ordered him to stand in the corner of the room, facing the wall, his hands upon his head. He stood barefoot, as naked as when Mother Vera had spanked him. She wiped him with a soft cloth. The only sound she permitted was his snuffling efforts to control his sobbing.

Before the afternoon ended, Vera spanked him twice again (without incident). The only clothing she permitted him was his robe. He was thoroughly docile by the time Leona returned Vera's daughter close to the dinner hour as Vera had told her. Actually, Vera had not heard her daughter come into the house. At the time she was busily spanking Matthew with considerable fervor for disobeying her instruction not to rub his backside while in the corner trying to soothe his discomfort. It was the second time, as it happened, that Matthew had disobeyed in this regard.

Vera had come upon him doing so. She had acted without hesitation.

"Undo your robe, Matthew, and bend over. . .!" His slowness to obey probably earned him extra and harder smacks. Vera loosened the garment herself, tossing it up and over his back, then spanked him standing in place with the leather sole of her slipper for a rather lengthy time.

Matthew bucked and bawled, the fire in his swelling and reddened buttocks bringing him to tears again. His tears brought Matthew no shame by this time of the day. Vera's spankings would make the most courageous of men weep. And he had received her discipline several times already.

As Vera was finishing, she looked up to find her daughter standing wide-eyed and silent in the doorway. Terry had glimpsed the hugeness of Matthew's erection as her Mother spanked him and it set her mouth dry. She had not fully subdued her blushing when her Mother turned and saw her. A glance from Vera sent Terry hurrying to her room. Through her closed door Terry could hear the murmurings and whacks of the final stages of Mother's discipline. Terry felt she had a fever, she felt so warm and flushed. She knew it was no fever.

Matthew sat chastened and quiet, speaking only when spoken to, during the supper meal. He felt like he was sitting on burning coals. "Mother wears that robe of hers only when she spanks," Terry had commented in a rushing whisper to Matthew while her Mother was out of the Dining Room, ". . .so I guess that means that you. . .?" Matthew nodded and Terry frowned with sympathy at him. Truth be told, Terry had never felt such erotic longing for a boy before. For his part, Matthew was puzzled by his emotions but Terry's glistening lipstick drew his eyes like a magnet to her mouth. He wished desperately in that instant that he could kiss her

Vera left the table during dinner to answer the telephone. "That was your Mother, Matthew," she said after returning, "She asked me if you were behaving."

Matthew's eyes remained fixed on his plate. "I told her you were improving. . .that you might need another two or three lessons in deportment," Vera said. Matthew winced at the meaning of Mother Vera's statement. Then Vera turned to her daughter. Terry was caught off guard when her Mother put a question to her directly (and unexpectedly) on the subject of her own behavior during the day. Terry admitted that Leona had given her a spanking that afternoon for backtalking her.

"You know what that means, young lady. Don't you." Terry did not think the question needed an answer.

Terry's eyes gave Matthew a brushing glance and she nodded. It meant her Mother would give her yet another whipping before she was sent to bed.

"Your behavior reflects on the way I am raising you. When you have finished the dishes, you will go to your room. Take out your hairbrush and have it ready. I will attend to you. . .I will attend to both of you!"

Both Terry and Matthew were put to bed with swollen, sore bottoms that night.

And thus did the weekend draw inexorably to a smarting close for both these young people. For the future, as the reader might have already guessed, neither was inclined to talk back to their Mothers for a long, long time after. No one was ever quite sure how Mother Vera effected the changes but everyone agreed that both Matthew and Terry's behaviour showed definite and deliberate efforts for the better after that weekend.

Matthew came to understand better control of his hormones. He and Terry began to see each other and, as it happened, eventually married three years later. As a matter of fact the word was that when married Terry was as firm, as frequent, and as redoubtable a disciplinarian in her home with her own children -- and her husband, Matthew, we might add -- as her Mother ever was.

Whether Vera heard her daughter tiptoe past her room far into that night to visit Matthew's bed where he tossed fitfully in search of comfort to ease his still-fiery bottom (not to return to her own room until a good two hours later), she gave no indication the next morning. The furor which the young man's nakedness unexpectedly had set off among her own senses was enough to occupy her most of the night. She missed her husband unbearably. (Three days later when he returned from a sales business trip Vera met him at the door. George found himself unbuckled and unbuttoned scant moments after setting foot in the house. Then he found himself practically ravished in the downstairs hallway. The first time, Vera took him standing. For the next two days, George found Vera to be insatiable.)

As years passed. . .Mother Vera developed a fine reputation as well as a legend. None of the young men or young women who had spent a day with her shared their experience with each other, nor with their parents (who were quite content with that so long as subsequent behaviour met with their approval). Mother Vera, for her part, never violated the trust she had won.

Mothers in Fulton wondered what Mother Vera's secret was. That was only natural. After all, though there were never any comparisons made, many in fact spanked their children with as much vigor (more, in some cases) than Vera. The secret Mothers in Fulton were never to discover was that Vera had no secret. She was someone who remembered that before she was Mother, she was first a Woman. And a Woman was what every misbehaving son or daughter she took across her knees sometimes needed. Often even more than a Mother's discipline.

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