Lizzie Baines: a 1950s spanked wife (part eight)


Lizzie Baines starts here.

I had noticed Mary walking dejectedly up the stairs and by now I knew that look so I followed her. As I thought, Ma met her outside the sewing room. Mary was red in the face and looked decidedly sheepish as she was led into the room and they closed the door.

You may remember that from time to time Mary was spanked by Ma ‘just to settle her down’ as Mary-Jane, our sister-in-law told it. I had no idea how these ‘maintenance spankings’ came about. I could not imagine that Mary actually came out and asked for them, but as I had seen Ma was very perceptive and nothing much got passed her.

I had by now given up any pretence to myself that I was not thoroughly intrigued by the disciplinary goings on at the Baines’ household and I was determined to steal a closer look.

The sewing room from was apart by itself, but it did have a balcony where Ma had previously spanked me. That gave me an idea. I shot up the stairs to the upper floor and tried my luck with the small attic window that I thought might possibly overlook the balcony. It did.

I did not have to wait long. Ma came out and took a seat in her Shaker chair followed by a crestfallen Mary. When the later saw the hairbrush in Ma’s hand she took half a step back and clutched at her rear.

“Ma I don’t need this.” She said quietly.

Ma inclined her head to the side and waited.

“When I was a girl I know I needed this but I am a woman grown now, Ma please you don’t need to. Its not like I did anything.” Mary groaned.

“Didn’t do anything? Well I wouldn’t say that. Its all those little things that mean you are asking for it. So if you don’t put yourself across my knee I am gonna take you downstairs for a switching.” Ma said almost kindly.

“Ooh.” Mary did a little frustrated dance that made her seem juvenile somehow. Then she moved forward. Ma was kind and did not wait for a full surrender but pulled her daughter downwards across the maternal lap.

I felt light-headed as the veils of Mary’s skirt were pulled up to reveal her epic behind that I had come to so admire. It didn’t occur to me then that I had anything in common with those burlesque women who dressed as men and smoked cigars. I was a married woman who got hot and bothered just thinking about my George alone in bed at night. But as you get older, you know that people and the world are never so cut and dry.

I must have a given a loud gasp as Mary’s underwear was drawn down because Ma paused and looked about her. I ducked back in the window for a count, before risking my head above the parapet. There I had a birds-eye view of the solid rounds of Mary’s deep split hiney, resembling as it did a classical vision of Venus.

Ma had taken one of Mary’s hands and had pinned it to the small of her back. The other, her right, reached under somewhere better to gain a purchase on the chair. I well remembered the position from my own spanking.

Ma brushed the bare flesh with her thumb as if seeing a trace of something that I could not from my vantage. Mary had recently been soundly switched in front of the whole family, so it was likely that her bottom still carried some faint spore of that chastisement.

Then before I knew it the spanking had begun.

“I must say girl you have an ass on you.” Ma said as she put the flat of the brush to Mary’s bottom.

“Ow Ma.” Mary pouted.

The bottom rippled as the wood struck home and I felt something I had only felt with George before. Also the autumnal weather must have been warmer than I realised because I seemed to perspire, especially between my thighs. I adjusted my position and felt my legs slick together under my skirt.

Ma did not seem particularly angry but she spanked hard and fast. There was no counting of the spanks and within moments Mary’s bottom was deep red and she was making a noise like stuttering motor as she wept beneath her tumbled hair.

I hugged myself as Mary squirmed and Ma turned her daughter slowly on her lap so that the bottom was a well-beaten sphere twisting this way and that as it was reddened under the spanking. First it went rose pink then the stain deepened and grew out in layers of red pain. Mary growled out angrily at each blistering swat in due response to the angry red of her behind.

Why was this so fine a sight? I did not wonder that then. I was young and lived in the moment. I enjoyed Mary’s pained cries. I devoured the tears she shed and the vivid crimson stain that marred her beauty. The way she bucked and gave away hints of her womanhood in the dark valley between, intrigued me. My throat was tight as I considered the humiliating surrender. Part of me prayed that the spanking not end. But above all, I loved the sight of Mary’s glorious bottom, which I envied and wished I had one like to offer my husband.

By now Mary’s bottom was swollen red and she was lost in hiccoughing sobs. Still Ma did not stop, but looked set to set another layer of ever-deeper red across her daughter’s tail.

“That’s it, let it all out.” She cooed.

Nor did the spanking end there. Ma extracted a full surrender for long minutes more, although Mary had surrendered and was in a flood of cleansing tears.

But even that did not sate me, so at the last I was disappointed when Ma brought the spanking to an end and directed the sobbing woman to the corner inside the room.

I crashed back on to an old bed frame and was honestly surprised at the wetness of my panties. I reached inside to inspect the cause and my hand lingered as I relived the spanking I had witnessed.

In my mind, I replaced Mary and George supplanted Ma. If only. I ‘scratched’ at my privates frantically with my knuckles until I reached a crisis and then sunk back breathing heavily.

“Are you done?”

I jumped up in horror and looked around. Ma was scowling at me, her hairbrush still in her hand.

“Aren’t you a little old for that?”

I blushed to heaven and at the moment, I would have done anything to be swallowed alive. I felt like a thief in the night.

“Ma I…” I withdrew my hand hastily and strained for an explanation that would be believed. For some reason I said: “George.”

“You would not believe the switching I got from my Ma for that malarkey.” Ma said darkly. “I could not sit for a month. Not that it stopped me.”

She smiled conspiratorial at the last remark. Then she said.

“You were spying.”

“I…” I blushed on blushes. Then nodded.

“Go and cut me three good switches.” Ma said.

My jaw dropped and tears sprang to my eyes.

“Not for the…” She didn’t finish. “But because you disappointed me playing a sneak like that. “I am gonna swipe you good, because I am going to do it in private. I don’t want Mary to know you saw.”

I nodded, my horror replaced with shame.

I don’t recall my exact feelings as I walked to the old hickory. I must have been scared. I remember the shame. But I was also curious, I think.

No one saw me cut the switches and I scurried back to Ma lest they did. I offered them to her like they were snakes and she took them with an amused look.

“Please. Just spank me, as long as you like. I need…”

“I know. You feel more loved over my knee. But I want you sorry. And right now, you want a spanking more than anything. But it’s not what you are needing.”

I blushed again. It was true. I would actually enjoy a spanking at that moment.

Ma had me strip down to just my bra a shirt. I still had on my short socks, but nothing else. She folded a blanket on the naked bedsprings, so I could lie across the old bed. My head and arms were down on the floor and my bottom was raised a little with my legs stretched out.

“Ma I’m sorry. Please don’t think…”

“Hush. I know. I’ve caught Amelia at before now. But she is a might younger than you.”

I waited for more words. Even as vulnerable as I was, I could not help but be curious about Amelia catching it. But a line of fire cut me deep.

“Gohhhhh.” I hissed. My eyes must have been wider than fairyland saucers.

What followed cannot be described, just lines and lines of searing pain. I cried and begged from the outset. I think I made promises that no one could ever of kept. If given the choice between that switching and a bare bottom spanking in front of everyone I had ever met. I would have taken the latter.

When Ma was finally done I just lay sobbing as she waited for me to come to myself.


“Yes Ma.” I blubbed. “Looks it. You mark easy. Not used to it I expect. Can’t pay that no never mind. Gave you my word on it when you run off.”

I was wracked with sobs and dared not move without permission. The significance of Ma’s words lost on me then.

“Ready?” Ma asked.

I felt rising panic and looked backing horror. Ma held a fresh switch. The second one.

Now in the days you live in you might be thinking this cruel. I suppose it was. But these are lost days where no one pays there way. But I wasn’t going to die, or even be marked by it. I was a woman grown and I was deserving. It was only my courage that was lacking. Thankfully, I didn’t need it. Ma had enough for both of us.

I have heard it said that a second switching right after don’t hurt as much because you get used to it. I would like to know which soft bottom brat said that. She never met Ma Baines.

I read a girl once got a double caning in some fancy English school and fainted. How can anyone faint when your bottom is on fire?

When Ma was finally through. Three or fours days later, it seemed just then, I thought I was bleeding and reached back. My bottom could not stand the touch and I yelped, but it was enough to tell me I was just sweating.

Ma hugged me sobbing for the longest time after that. So cleansed was I, that it did not occur to me I had another switching still to come. Once my crying was done and I began to sniff myself back to the world. Ma stood up and reached for the last switch.

“Bottom up more. Let’s get this done.”

I didn’t argue. I just knelt up with my bottom sticking up in an undignified way and waited for hell to sear my rump.

Ma struck once and I yelled. Then she snapped the twig and said I was done.

Most of my crying was done and as I lay there I teased at my welts with a series of winces, but could not help touching again, like I had some strange addiction. My whole bottom and upper thighs were textured with purple lines that stood up in hard ridges. Most of them crossed and re-crossed so that the effect was of a net-like brand.

Ma left me to my misery for a moment and came back with a bowl and began to tend me.

“Some of these are weeping a little I want to get them seen to before you get to the corner.”

I can’t say that Ma’s ministrations were all that soothing but once she was finished I felt slightly eased, although not for long. Once I was set in the corner in place of Mary in the sewing room, I felt my bottom tighten. A tightness caused by the feeling that my bottom had doubled in size.

“My oh my. I haven’t seen a bottom like that since my sister Jane got laced three days running for stealing a nag.” Ma chuckled. “I reckon you might not sit down until Christmas.”

I started to cry again. I reckoned Ma was right.


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