Once bucolic countryside had taken on a sinister aspect and where green trees had been charming they now looked gnarled, like ancient trolls, where glades had shone in dappled sunshine, the feeble yellow grass now looked garish. She was gone.

Adam threw the car around the bend as if it and he had no value and almost clipped a tree. He didn’t care really, she was gone. A sob threatened to overwhelm him and his hands gripped the wheel as if to let go would be his end too.

“You bloody fool,” he raged at the space between him and the windscreen, not seeing it.

Yes she has gone, over a year now, he sighed now pulling himself together.

“You’ll be alright,” she had said kindly, her eyes sparkling as she drank the very remains of him. Those had been her last words in the hospital. He had still been answering her when she slipped away.

“I am 58, Brenda, what the hell do you think I will do without you,” he screamed at his dead wife as in his mind he lost her again.

There were days like these, days when memories and the present merged and he rambled on to a ghost. Those were the better days. All the rest drifted by in a haze, one rolling into the next.

The car skidded at the bend and for a brief moment he thought it would all end and he would follow her, but his driving skill held up and the car steadied.

“I am driving like a fool,” he chided himself and slowed.

Brenda would not have been impressed and nor would he if he were to involve someone in a crash. More than once he had spanked Brenda for such recklessness and years before his daughter at the great age of 23 had suffered the same indignity. But that had been a life time ago and another era, the world had moved on without him. Without them, he added, on the cusp of renewed despair.

“You old fool,” he sniffed tears he had not noticed and wiped his eye.

At the next bend he almost ran into the back of a dawdling tractor, his heart lurched. Not a minute before his driving style would have ended him here and the irony raked him.

“You’ll be alright,” Brenda said. Startled he made a half turn to where she had once sat beside him, but of course she was gone now.

A glance to his mirror threw up another car closing fast and he slowed further. The Range Rover looked far too large for its driver and for a moment Adam did a double-take, convinced that the car was empty. Then with a roar it surged past him and he saw the small blonde woman perched behind the wheel.

“You stupid little girl,” he yelled, although she would not hear him.

He thought of his daughter, this girl was older still and should have known better, but the woman made it and left the old man shaking his head as her tail end disappeared up the lane.

The tractor delayed him for another minute or two before he too made a pass, but at least by then he could see the road ahead.

“Brenda, Brenda, Brenda old girl, this world is too fast for me, I’m getting old,” he said with a chuckle. The first time he had laughed in days, an omen his wife would have called it.

*

The Range Rover was side on in the ditch and Adam was genuinely relieved to see the young blonde woman standing upright and angry nearby rather than slumped behind the wheel. At least her reckless turn at the bend had not met with another tractor, he thought as he slowed and pulled up.

The blonde was around 30 as near as Adam could tell, although she could easily be five years either way of that, he had trouble working it out these days. But she wasn’t exactly an innocent judging from the stream of vile abuse she hurled at the car. It was as if the Range Rover had a mind of its own that could carry the blame.

“I know what I would do if you were one of mine,” Adam growled as he got out of his car and shook his head with maximum disapproval.

The girl wheeled on him as if she would swear but instead on seeing him she blushed and dipped her head.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She nodded.

“The bloody car,” she sighed.

“It looks okay to me,” Adam said reassuringly.

“Yeah, but I’ll need a tow,” she replied dejectedly letting out a long slow ragged breath.

“Live far?” he asked glancing at his watch as if he had to hurry.

Hurry where, to the empty house and a frozen meal in front of one of those clever panel shows?

“Nah,” the girl shrugged and gestured up the lane. “’Bout two miles, I guess I can walk.”

She looked unsettled and shifted uncomfortably as if too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Her blonde hair would have been long but she wore it braided Germanic-style close to her head so that he couldn’t help notice her faultless model-like skin that emphasised her full pout lips and large blue-pools for eyes. Adam guessed that she was in her early 30s and that her small statue and juvenile dress only suggested youth; that and her poor driving.

“You in a hurry?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“You made a rather reckless pass just now,” he suggested.

She shrugged and blushed again.

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift home, you could probably do with a drink or something, it’s just shock,” he said kindly.

“No I am fine,” she blurted.

“Come on,” he said firmly and after a show of fluttery protests she nodded.

*

The cottage was small and ill-kept. A renter she told him hastily when she saw his expression. Adam glanced at the jungle where presumably a garden had once been and absently made improvements in his mind.

“Thanks for the lift, I guess…” she was embarrassed again and looked like she wanted him to go.

He gave her a wave and turned away.

“Coffee, tea…?” she said tentatively.

He made to refuse and crinkled his face in readiness but suddenly she looked lost and he thought of his daughter.

“You’ll be alright,” Brenda said brightly and he startled. Of course she wasn’t really there.

“Um… sure just a quick tea would be great… thanks,” he said casually.

The girl looked relieved.

“Stacy,” she said, holding out a hand.

“Adam Stone,” he answered and took it with a quick firm shake.

The interior of the house was clean enough but none too tidy. Adam guessed that Stacy was single and he appraised the room beyond the hall much as he had once done his daughter’s room. He smiled as he thought of Brenda chivvying her as a teenager. Both gone now, he realised and he almost cried.

“Do you take sugar Mr Stone?” she asked once they were inside.

If she noticed his sadness it didn’t show, in fact she looked rather distracted herself Adam thought. Shock maybe?

“Not for me,” he replied as he inspected the kitchen, he had seen worse.

They stood in silence for what seemed an age, she stirring her tea, and him sipping politely as he glanced at idle messages pinned to the fridge door and the array of magnets stuck there.

“What did you mean before?” she said quietly.

He frowned. She wasn’t looking at him and held her head at a tilt and gazing into the middle distance.

“When?” he didn’t know what she meant.

“When you first got out of your car? You know, about what you would do if I were one of yours,” she didn’t look up and sipped at her tea with her head still dipped and her eyes rolling up coyly as if she had only now noticed the ceiling.

“You know perfectly well what I meant,” he said in a tone of stern indulgence. But he let a small smile touch his lips to reassure her.

Stacy blushed and shifted nervously where she stood.

“Not really,” she lied and bit at her lip.

“If my wife or daughter had driven as recklessly as you, let alone run off the road like that I would I have given them a good sound spanking,” Adam informed her.

Stacy gasped and looked up at him horrified.

He didn’t care if that shocked her, she was playing games with him anyway.

“I suppose I should go,” he shrugged and put down his cup.

“Ah…” she interjected and extended a tentative arm. “You wouldn’t really would you? I mean it’s just an expression isn’t it?”

“No, no it isn’t and I yes I would and did,” he chuckled, “My daughter was 23 when had words about a situation similar to yours and my wife and I…”

He sudden closed his mouth to a tight line and swallowed. That was our life, why am I telling this girl?

“Twenty-three, you spanked her when she was 23?” Stacy gasped, her eyes were fixed on Adam now and darted back and forth in her head.

“Oh she deserved it,” Adam said emphatically.

“I suppose she did, but that was the olden days for you, I guess,” Stacy said ruefully.

Adam bristled. “Not so long ago; I’m not that old. She certainly wasn’t too old for a spanking.”

“I bet you think I am not old too,” Stacy said biting her lip and blushing yet again.

“I know you’re not,” Adam said with a friendly snort.

Stacy nodded as she kissed the air and looked off to the side as if considering something. “H-how, how did you do it?” she asked in the voice of a mouse.

Adam pushed out his lower lip and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Stacy shrugged, “Did you just grab her and slap her bum or were you mad…?”

“I was always calm and I never just grabbed her,” Adam said wistfully remembering.

“Tell me,” Stacy whispered. For emphasis she stood up straight and moved to the kitchen table and sat down. “More tea?” she asked.

Adam dropped into the chair opposite and held up his cup to the tea spout.

“Well… first we would talk it over and when I was sure, I would tell her to get ready,” Adam began. “She would…” he became uncomfortable, he had never thought about this before, it had all been organic, something that had been silently agreed between them once Brenda had relinquished the discipline side of things. It had only happened two or three times after she turned 18 anyway.

“She would remove whatever she was wearing below, you know… take off her trousers or skirt, whatever, and her pants too,” he added pointedly, “And then she would stand and face the wall in our dining room with her hands on her head.”

Stacy sucked in her teeth as if she was bored, but Adam sensed something intense going on.

“I would leave her to her own devices for a while; until I was thoroughly calm at least,” he continued, “Perhaps half an hour. Then I would sit in a chair and take her across my knee.”

The kitchen clock seemed very loud and Adam realised that it was the only sound in the room.

“Did you use your hand?” Stacy asked after a moment. She sounded both muted and eager all at once.

“Sometimes yes, I would spank her bare bottom that way, but often I would use a sailing shoe, a bit like a tennis pump, I bought a pair and never wore them.” Adam wondered if he sounded cruel. Why did that matter?

“How long… how hard, did you spank her I mean?” Stacy couldn’t breathe.

Adam shrugged. “Until she was good and sorry, until her bottom was dark red and couldn’t take any more and then usually a touch on top of that to make my point. That last time when she was 23 I was mad at her and she knew better. I added a bit until she looked quite raw and was bawling her head off.”

Stacy shuddered and hugged herself.

“After that I usually resisted the temptation to cuddle her, although I wanted too of course. I made her go back to face the wall until she had calmed down.” Adam added. He leaned in to try and gauge Stacy’s reaction. There was more going on than he understood, so he continued, “Brenda usually got her and made her get dressed. I… I don’t know, there was a kind of peace between us when she was standing there, I don’t think either of us wanted it to end.”

“Did you hug her then?” Stacy asked.

“Oh yes, big hugs,” Adam chuckled, “She usually cried again and said over and over how sorry she was.”

Stacy was smiling and nodded vigorously.

“Was that how it was with your father?” Adam said gently, his mouth a tight sympathetic line.

“I never knew my father, but I have always wished I had had one like you,” Stacy said shyly.

Adam shifted uneasily, embarrassed at the statement. “Oh well, I suppose I should go,” he muttered.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

Adam frowned.

“You are right, I deserve a spanking,” adding a “yeah,” as if courting his agreement. Stacy could scarcely get the words out, “Just like your daughter got.” She was blushing just as his daughter had done when confronted with the inevitable.

“I don’t think…” Adam swallowed.

Stacy held his gaze now and pleaded with her eyes.

“You’ll be alright,” Brenda seemed to say.

“Alright then,” Adam said in a stern voice he hadn’t found in years.  He stood up. “I saw the way you overtook that tractor and what speed were going at that bend, words fail me,” he scolded.

Stacy dipped her head and chewed at her lower lip.

“You are a damn sight older than my daughter was and you should damn well know better. So this is what we are going to do. I am going to find something appropriate and you little girl are going to get your things down and face that wall in there,” he barked as he pointed to the lounge. “If you aren’t bare-arsed and waiting when I come in, then I’ll just go. If you are ready then we will do this. But I warn you…”

“I know, I need this, you know yeah, for real,” Stacy said gently.

Adam nodded.

The kitchen yielded nothing that would serve as a paddle and the brush hanging in the hall looked too heavy for a novice. Then he noticed an embossed leather mat on the hall table. It looked like something one might stand a row of teacups on to protect good furniture, but it was over a foot long and as wide as a man’s hand. He picked it up and hefted it like a short paddle. It was springy enough and a slap of his palm promised quite a sting.

“Okay then Stacy, Contrition City Arizona,” he muttered something from his youth.

When he entered the room Stacy was facing the wall in just a T-shirt. Her long bare legs were tapered and pale as they extended from the floor and on upwards towards her naked hips. She had a good pert bottom that jutted out behind like a shelf, each buttock smooth and tightly separated and as white as a porcelain statue.

But this was his ‘daughter’ not his wife and only a sense of justice stirred within him. Maybe if he taught this girl a real lesson he would save her life one day and this would be more than some bored woman’s little adventure.

Stacy shifted uneasily as she heard him come in and the blush came back with a vengeance; strong enough to dominate her face and neck when seen from behind. Just like Karen, he thought, allowing himself his lost daughter’s name for the first time since…

Adam gave the girl’s back a grim smile and dropped into an easy chair nearby. He would let her stew for a bit. Maybe she would bail and ask him to leave, a lesson by itself. If not, then he had a purpose for the first time since Brenda had died.

*

Stacy was a fidget. Not in a big way, not in a way that would get her in his bad books. But she twitched and shuffled a little. He hadn’t told her to put her hands on her head and occasionally she would steal a stroke of her bare bottom as if contemplating its fate. Well that was the point and one well-made in his book. Adam smiled.

She had faced the wall for 40 minutes or so and had showed no sign that her resolve to go through with it had waned. Well good for her, he thought.

Finally he stood up and hefted the impromptu paddle-strap he had found. There was no suitable chair in the room so he headed to the kitchen to get one. As he moved away Stacy moaned as if her expectations had been lifted and dashed. The psychology of corner time was ever thus, he thought with a shrug. Not that he kept her waiting long.

Placing the chair on the carpet nearby, he sat down and finally spoke to her.

“Now young lady, come here and get across my knee,” he said in a scolding voice.

Stacy jogged on the spot nervously and turned around with a grimace. Her hands fluttered nervously in front of her sex and he averted his eyes. Karen had been better at that and he became uncomfortable again.

But in the event the girl was as eager as him to get it over with and she flopped heavily across his knees without preamble and wriggled until her bare bottom was sticking up helpfully and her head hung down.

“Okay then,” he sighed, “You asked for it.”

He slapped her hard with his hand leaving an immediate red patch and she hissed. Then matching it across both cheeks he spanked her for a minute as she squirmed and groaned until he had her measure. It is funny how you never forget, he thought, just like riding a bicycle.

The next part of the spanking was rapid and hard. Stacy made little noises in her throat as she bucked and kicked, but safe to say she offered no real resistance.

“I don’t think you are going to go playing racing cars around country lanes again are you?” he snarled.

“No Sir,” she yipped.

“Or anywhere else for that matter, will you?” he barked at her as he spanked with a will.

“No Mr Stone,” she said breathlessly.

“You know we haven’t even got started don’t you?” he continued.

“Yes Mr Stone,” she panted, pain dripping off her voice like bad medicine from a spoon.

Her small but prominent behind was quite red by then, but she would mock him surely if he ended it now. In any case he had resolved, as she had demanded, that he should handle her soundly.

The length of leather was nearby and he took it now and lined it up with her bottom. The first swat cracked loudly and Stacy’s reaction was a shrill one.

“Handy little thing this,” he observed with a chuckle.

This was as much fun as when he had spanked his wife and yet with the drama and justification of those otherwise grim occasions with Karen. Adam was suddenly alive and in his element.

He spanked Stacy heavily and hard several dozen times as she kicked and bucked. Her voice was a guttural growl and more than a little wet now. Indeed there were tears like sheet down her face and her nose was running. Hardly surprising when you considered the state of her bottom: now a very dark red and textured like old leather, so that both buttocks were capped with welty pads that had formed rubbery ridges where the burgundy stain met the white flesh.

Adam noticed too that her bottom had a chalky white dusting from the serious application of the leather. All-in-all, her generous little bum had become quite raw.

Stacy expressed her appreciation of this happenstance by bawling vigorously and hiccoughing spluttered sobs as her angry outburst slipped away into miserable resignation.

“I’m sorry,” she wailed, adding more shrilly at a shriek “I’m sorry.”

“Are you? Are you really,” Adam said firmly, “You agree then that this is deserved?”

He could have sworn that she was mooing like a cow and in a thick strained voice she wailed an incoherent “yes.”

“Have you learned your lesson then?” he asked sharply, not stopping his spanking arm for a moment.

“Oh God yes Sir, please Mr Stone, I’ll be a good girl,” she blubbed earnestly.

“In truth, sorry is where it starts,” Adam said calmly, “I mean you might have been killed, you might have killed someone. If you were my daughter and more used to this I would give you a very firm lesson indeed…”

Stacy’s peony-soaked face gurned into space. She was in a state of accepting horror as she contemplated further blistering.

“Please Mr Stone, pleeeese,” she wailed.

Adam stopped the spanking and let her draw a breath.

“You want to give up on this little punitive adventure do you?” He waited.

Stacy’s breath was laboured and her shoulders heaved up and down for an age. Then with a small motion she shook her head.

Adam was surprised and almost continued her ordeal. But she was spent now and even Karen or Brenda would have been.

“Alright,” he sighed, “You know what happens next?”

Stacy got up painfully, struggling to stop her crying, but she nodded. He had never seen anyone look so miserable. But with strange staggered steps Stacy turned and went to face the wall and half-leaned against it. Then she broke again and great gouts of sobs began over.

*

Adam waited until five or 10 minutes after she had completely calmed down and then he spoke.

“If it were down to me I would leave you there for another hour” he chuckled, half expecting Brenda to lead her away and help her put on her jeans and knickers.

“It is up to you,” Stacy said breathily.

Adam blinked, it was, wasn’t it?

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked.

“Oh yes Sir, thank you Mr Stone,” she said with an exaggerated gratitude.

“Call me Adam,” he said.

“I’d rather not,” she said with a shrug.

He nodded. “Well… I would give you a hug but…”

She nodded, it would have been wrong this time.

“How long do I have to stand here, I mean if it were up to you?” Stacy asked making a half turn and chewing her lower lip nervously.

“You’re feeling better then?” Adam chuckled.

“Yes thank you Sir,” she agreed.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll go home and phone you. Assuming no one else calls you first then you can sit down then, that’ll be in about 35 minutes I suppose,” he told her.

“I doubt if I’ll sit down, but yes, thank you,” she said ruefully, “So you live quite close then?”

He nodded, but she had already turned back to face the wall so he eyed her bottom and marvelled at how sore it looked. “Eh… yes,” he answered.

“Will I see you again?” she said casually.

Silence fell and only the clock filled it.

“I’m a bit… bit old for you don’t you think?” he said sounding regretful.

“You could be my daddy… to begin with anyway, couldn’t you?” she said hopefully.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, but his mood had strangely lifted.

“Mr Stone,” she said. She was looking over her shoulder with her face set with an adult demeanour. “I have been waiting for someone like you all my life.”

Adam could have sworn that Brenda patted him on the shoulder and then gently slipped away.