When Tiffany walked into the living room, her stepmother was sat on the sofa, her back straight, hands slightly curled over her knees. Her head was bent down, her eyes gazing at the deep-pile light grey carpet. She was frowning. Tiffany could also see her stepmum’s cheeks blushing, but the older woman didn’t make a sound or acknowledge her stepdaughter coming in. Tiffany remembered being in that exact position numerous times when her stepmum had told her to “wait for her in the lounge”. There had been no need to say what she would be waiting for. Instinctively, she put her hand to her rear and rubbed it softly before remembering herself. Her stepmother still didn’t say a word. Tiffany crossed her arms.
“Well?” she said, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Her stepmother, Kelly, pursed her lips, clearly wanting to make a comment, but knowing she would come to regret it if she did.
“You don’t want to explain yourself, Kelly?”
Still nothing.
“I remember you were quite fond of making me tell you why I was getting punished…”
“It was always for a good reason…” her stepmother muttered.
“Oh, I’m sure …” Tiffany said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you had a very good reason to spank me in front of all my friends that one time!”
“You…” Kelly started, then went quiet. There was no need to rehash an old argument. Besides, who has sleepovers at their mum and dad’s at twenty years of age? With alcohol, loud music, and all… And that was years in the past now.
“Anyway…” Tiffany said, “You know why you’re here, but I think I’d like to hear it from you…”
“I’m here because I don’t have a choice…” Kelly said, dryly.
“That’s one way of putting it…” Tiffany snapped. “You know, I can still wait for Dad to be home, if you’d rather?”
Kelly stiffened. “No…” she said in a small voice. She turned her head away slightly.
“Look at me,” Tiffany said. Kelly didn’t move.
“Look at me!” Tiffany repeated, in sterner voice. Her stepmother reluctantly did as she was told. Her eyes were glistening. Was it fear? Was it anger? Either way, Tiffany liked it. Truth be told, she had liked Kelly, loved her even, despite the numerous tanning her backside had received over the years. Her stepmum had raised her and her little sister like her own. She had loved them; she had given them all that she could without conditions. Couldn’t deny that. And, more importantly, she had made her old man happy for years and years, and that was what mattered. That was the only reason they were having this little tête-à-tête rather than a whole-family discussion.
“Now tell me why we’re here,” Tiffany ordered, “And don’t you dare look away.”
“I…” Kelly started, her cheeks blushing ever more, and tears welling up in her green eyes. Tiffany glared.
“I’m here because…” Kelly continued, “because I…”
“Yes?” Tiffany said, losing patience.
“B-because I… I was… Stupid…”
“You can say that again,” Tiffany said, rolling her eyes.
“I never meant to hurt John!” Kelly pleaded. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“If that were true you wouldn’t have cheated on him, would you?!” Tiffany said furiously.
“He… He doesn’t know…”
“No, he doesn’t, yet” Tiffany said coldly, “And if you do exactly as you’re told, he will never know. But if you do anything else to hurt my dad in any way…”
“I won’t!” Kelly cried, “I love your dad, you know that…”
“Oh please… How could I believe that right now?” said Tiffany with a huff.
“I… It was a mistake!” her stepmother sobbed, “I want to make things better, I do, Tiffany… That’s… That’s why I’m here…” she continued.
“So, you know what’s going to happen, yes?” the younger girl asked.
“Y-yes…” Kelly said, hesitantly, brushing a tear away.
“Tell me, then?” Tiffany said with a hint of glee in her voice.
“You… You are going to s-spank me…” Kelly answered, softly, as though she couldn’t admit it to herself yet.
“On the bare…” her stepdaughter grinned.
“Yes…” Kelly said.
“Yes ma’am” Tiffany corrected her.
“Y-yes ma’am…” Kelly said, biting her lip.
“Right…” Tiffany nodded.
“But your father must never know!” Kelly begged, then added, “Ma’am…?”
Tiffany didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead, she sat down on the sofa beside her stepmother and nodded. “You know how it goes, right? Even though it was usually the other way around…”
Kelly said nothing, and with a little sigh and an almost inaudible moan, she pressed herself over her stepdaughter’s lap. Her dress clung to her shapely bottom, revealing the contours of the underwear she knew would be dangling between her legs very soon. A shiver of fear went up her spine. Oh, how she regretted her affair now. It seemed so stupid. One night of raunchy fun against a lifetime of happiness and commitment. How foolish she had been to take that turn. She wasn’t proud, and she doubted the shame would ever go away.
“Well?” Tiffany asked, and Kelly realised she hadn’t heard what her stepdaughter had been asking.
“S-sorry, hum… What was that dear?” she said with what she hoped was enough contrition.
“I asked you if you had anything more to say?” Tiffany hissed, less than impressed.
“I…” Kelly hesitated. There was no getting out of this, just like there was no rewinding the past to fix her mistakes. All she could do now was suffer the consequences and be grateful that Tiffany was even offering her this chance rather than destroying her reputation, her relationship… She shook her head. Then she squeaked “I love your father…” in a flood of tears.
If Tiffany took pity on her, the first slap that landed on her behind didn’t show it at all. The loud sound of it echoed in the living-room and she cried out in pain. The next one was just as hard, as were the two dozen after that, palmful after palmful of her stepdaughter’s wrath raining down on her guilty bottom. She cried and yelped and kicked her legs, knowing full well that it was but a start to her punishment. Twenty more slaps came down before she felt Tiffany grabbing the skirt of her dress and lifting it up. She clenched and unclenched her round buttocks, trying to make the pain go away. It was in vain, but she relished the few seconds of respite.
Tiffany passed a finger along her knickers and readjusted them, a familiar gesture that Kelly used to do when punishing the girls. It was like a bizarre, shared tradition passed from mother to daughter, she thought, and it made her feel good for a few seconds. Then the pain exploded again, the sound of her stepdaughter’s hand against her exposed flesh crisp and sharp. It hurt more than before, and Tiffany was relentless, just as Kelly knew she would be. And just as she knew she deserved. Under Tiffany’s hand, her sitspots were on fire, her fleshy bottom was agony. With only the thin fabric of her knickers protecting her behind and what was left of her dignity, Kelly was under no illusion that things would get better any time soon.
In a way, the worst part was the silence. Not dead silence, of course, as slap after slap sounded and echoed around the room, but Tiffany was quiet, focused on giving her wayward mother the punishment of a lifetime. No scolding, no comments, just utter discipline, and a commitment to making every inch of her stepmum’s bottom an ocean of pain. Kelly felt oddly proud. Slaps fell down on her thighs, on her bare cheeks, over her knickers; she kicked her legs, she fidgeted, she clenched her teeth and held on to the sofa’s fabric. She let go, she cried out, she begged then fell silent. Again, and again the cycle continued. Through it, Tiffany’s hand fell like a merciless metronome. Then she paused.
Between sobs, Kelly tried to speak. “Tiff-sniff– Tiffany… I’m so sorry…”
“What was it you used to say?” Tiffany whispered.
“I…” Kelly sniffled again.
“Think before you act and you won’t have to be sorry, right? Isn’t that what you used to say, mum?”
The fact that Tiffany had called her mum for the first time that day didn’t escape Kelly. It made the punishment all the more worth it if it mended their relationship in the slightest…
“Y-yes ma’am…” she said softly, “That’s… that’s what I used to say…”
Tiffany nodded, grabbing her stepmum’s knickers with both hands and sliding them down one side at a time until they rested midway down Kelly’s thighs. The older woman pressed her legs together and clenched her bruised bottom, feeling vulnerable and exposed.
“When you’re in the corner, later,” said Tiffany, “I’ll make sure to take some pictures”.
“Wh-what for?” Kelly asked, horrified.
“If I hear anything from dad I don’t like…” Tiffany said, letting the threat hang.
“There won’t be anything… I promise…” Kelly whimpered.
“There better not be…” Tiffany said, tapping her stepmum’s bright red cheeks. Kelly winced with every tap.
“And I think we should make this a weekly thing for the foreseeable future,” Tiffany added, “To make sure you keep in line…”
Kelly screwed her eyes shut but didn’t argue. In a twisted way, it was a relief, and she wanted it. She wanted to see her daughter. She wanted to know that Tiffany still cared about her relationship with her father enough to come and punish her every week. It was humiliating, it hurt like nothing else, but deep down, it was comforting.
Then the spanking resumed, and all ideas of comfort and relief vanished in a wave of deserved pain. Burning, stinging, her bottom was nothing but misery. She doubted she would be able to sit ever again, just as she doubted she would look Tiffany in the eyes again after the humiliation she was enduring. Was there anything left to hide, was there any pride left to burn? Could anything be more shameful than being disciplined by your own daughter? Still, as the spanking continued, and as her flesh was marked with a darker and darker red, she whispered “I love you, Tiffany”, and she could have sworn that, between two loud and painful slaps, she heard her daughter whisper back “I love you too”.
