Story: Quality Time [F/F]

Dealing with all the repressed emotional trauma of late has made me crave maternal affection, which made me think of this old story. Though, today has been one of those super-fatigue days when the idea of canning peaches sounds exhausting. Hell, just getting out of bed feels a bit exhausting.

Anyway...enjoy. :)



Quality Time [F/F]


It was half past eleven by the time I pulled open the screen door to
Helen's kitchen.

"Hey there! Sorry I'm so late. Just couldn't seem to get out of bed this
morning."

"Well, there you are. Was starting to wonder." She nodded toward the box
of peaches on the kitchen table. "You haven't missed too much. I've
started cutting and peeling, but we've got two boxes of peaches, so
there's plenty left for you to cut and peel also." She pointed to an
extra apron and knife. I giggled.

"Darn, thought maybe I'd missed out on the hard work."

"Ha! Not on your life, kid." Helen dropped some peeled and sliced
peaches into a Mason jar. I sighed and grabbed a couple of peaches out
of the box. "You feeling alright, Natty? You look a bit pasty this
morning." Her brown eyebrows furrowed together as she looked at me.

"Me? Oh I'm fine. Just tired cause I haven't gotten much sleep lately."

"And why's that?"

"Oh, well..." My face flushed a bit. "I've sorta been up late talking with
a friend online the last few nights."

"Ah, I see." In that disapproving parent tone of hers. "Well, guess
you'd better be getting to bed a bit earlier then hadn't you? Don't want
you coming down with something..."

Funny how Helen was like that. I'd only known her for a few months as I
was housesitting next door to her. We started talking one day while I
was taking out the trash, and before I knew it she was having me over
for dinner and lessons on making the perfect pie crust.

We chatted, peeled, sliced and filled Mason jars. Talked about her
grandkids. Then about school.

"How's that thesis of yours coming along? Did you finally get some
writing done this week like you were supposed to?" There was that
parental tone again.

"Well..." I couldn't quite mouth the reality of my dereliction. "I,
um...haven't quite gotten around to it much this week..."

"'Haven't gotten around to it'?" She put down her knife and looked at
me. "And just what has kept you so busy this week that you 'haven't
gotten around to it?'"

My mind raced to find an answer that wouldn't make me look completely
irresponsible. But as I couldn't find one and my tongue wouldn't spit
out the truth, I simply gulped and stared at the counter.

"Hmm...think I know the answer. Procrastination and the Internet can keep you awfully busy I suppose." She picked up the knife again and finished slicing her peach. "Now, remind me again, how much of your thesis did you finish this summer?" I sighed.

"Er...um...not very much..." I sliced my peach very slowly as Helen actually seemed to pick up speed with hers.

"I see." She grabbed the next peach and had it peeled, sliced and in the
jar before I even finished slicing the one I had been working on. I
started working faster in an effort to feel productive. "You know," she
began after a long minute of painful silence, "if I were your mother,
I'd give you a darn good spanking."

"Well, you are kinda like a mom to me," I piped as I cut through a
peach. It just slipped out before I had time to really think about it. I
mean, it was true. Just sort of an awkward time to say it. She smiled at
first. Then pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows in a way that made
her look very stern.

"Hmm...maybe then I ought to have you spend some quality time over my
knee, young lady."

"Maybe." Again, popped out before I could think. She put down the knife,
wiped her hands, then handed me a towel.

"Very well, then, come with me." I dutifully wiped my hands and followed
her down the hallway to her bedroom. She led me to a corner next to the
closet. "You stand right here in this corner for a few minutes until I
get back."

And so, being the mature grown-up I was, I stood in the corner. My brain
finally clicked on within thirty seconds or so of standing there and
stammered to figure out at what the hell I'd gotten myself into.

"Alright, come here." I turned to see Helen sitting on the side of the
bed. She had a thermometer in her hand and on the nightstand was a small tub of Vaseline and a wooden hairbrush. "Take off your apron, jeans and panties." I reached back and began untying the apron. "Now, since you looked like you weren't feeling very well this morning I want to take your temp to make sure you're not coming down with anything."

"You mean like...in my..." I held the apron and stood frozen in front of her.

"Yes, in your bottom. It's -"

"--But why can't you just take it orally like normal? Besides, I'm fine.
No fever. Really."

"I'll be honest that I'm doing this as part of your punishment. I want
it to be very uncomfortable so you'll start thinking about your health
more. Staying up all night isn't the only thing you do that's not
healthy - I know you've been eating junk food and doing a zillion other
things that aren't very good for you. And since you act like such a
child I'm going to treat you like one in the hope that it makes you
start thinking like an adult. Now get those jeans and panties off and
come lay over my lap."

I certainly did feel very little as I climbed onto the bed and lay
across her lap. As the thin, cold glass thermometer slid between my
cheeks and then poked against my anus, I couldn't help but whimper like
a four-year-old. It was like being more naked than naked. Yet, I
couldn't remember a time when I've felt more safe and cared for as she
rubbed my back and patted my bottom. A few minutes later she twisted the thermometer around then pulled it out.

"Normal temp. Good." I lay there in an odd state of contentment and
fear. The affection felt nice, but I knew that wooden hairbrush would
not. "Now, Natalie, I'm going to spank you. It is going to hurt very
much. But I hope it will motivate you to be more responsible to do your
work and take care of yourself. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I mumbled with a nod.

"Good girl." She patted my back.

Then they came. Sharp, crisp, wooden smacks on the middle of my
backside. I winced. Then squeaked as they got harder. And when she
started slapping my thighs, I yelped. Curled my toes and gripped the
bedspread. And they kept coming. Burning my skin. I put my face in my
hands and hoped they would stop soon. But they didn't. I began kicking
my legs slightly. Helen landed a very hard smack on my thighs.

"None of that please." And went right back to work on my bottom.
Eventually the combination of the cumulating pain in my bottom and
thighs, the inscrutabilty of it ending and the ever-present feeling of
childishness made me do what any child in that situation would do: bawl
my eyes out. "Alright. It's alright." The spanking ended. Helen was
smoothing my hair and rubbing my back again.

Once my sobbing slowed, she helped me up and into my clothes. Then led
me by the hand into the living room where she sat down in her rocker and
sat me on her lap. And there in her big arms I finished crying.

"There now. It's all over. I know you're going to do much better from
now on." She kissed the top of my head as I nodded. "Think you're ready
to finish canning peaches?"

"Yes, Mommy." I smiled at her. And she smiled back.

Copyright 2003 Natty