A family friend takes a girl on holiday

By Jill Waterhouse

It was 1976 and a stinking hot summer. My mum and Mike’s mum were both divorced and short of cash. They could only afford 1 week’s holiday each year, so I would usually go with Mike’s mum, Sarah, and Mike would come with us. That way, everyone got a break, one way or the other.

This particular year was just after our 18th birthdays. They were only 5 days apart, which probably added to our bond. We were more like brother and sister separated by divorced parents than just the kids of adult friends. Sarah had rented a small cottage near one of the large waterways that make up the Norfolk Broads. My room overlooked the water, as did Sarah’s room next door. Mike’s room overlooked a small wood and farm land. All in all, a pretty and idyllic location for a quiet week. Small boats chugged past all day and the occupants often waved as they went past, but to be honest waving back became a bit of a bind. Surely, these people have seen other people before, or was it just a case of look at me we can afford a boat rental? Well our little cottage was lovely and came with its own small boat. This had no engine but a set of oars, which meant we could quietly row up to otters and wild birds, and we spent hours bird-watching, which was a lovely activity.

One day, however, we were sailing about 2 miles away from the cottage, taking it in turns to row, when we approached two boats tied up one 100 yards away from the other. The first was clearly empty and currently not being used. We drifted quietly watching a couple of kingfishers hunting for small prey at the edge of a small reed bed at the side of the far bank.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

Mike and I looked at each other. “What the heck was that?” our expressions said.

“I think it’s coming from over there,” whispered Mike as we drifted slowly towards the second boat on the gentle breeze blowing from our stern.

Sure enough, when the breeze died down we could hear it again; “Mmm, mmm,” but slightly louder and with another sound behind it.

We continued to within about 10 yards of the boat and all of a sudden the sound made more sense. There, sat on the deck, was a lady around 40 years of age. There was also a teenage girl. The girl was positioned in the all-too-familiar over-the-knee spanking position, something I was used to at that age. The lady, presumably the girl’s mother, appeared to be in the middle of a long spanking as it was at least 30 seconds since we had first heard them.

“How stupid can you be, you silly, silly girl? You could have caused a nasty accident throwing stones off the bridge at that boat like that!” her mother scolded and her hand rose and fell steadily on the poor girl’s panty-clad bottom in groups of three; three to the left, then three to the right, which explained the ‘Mmm’ we had heard. The bridge was presumably the one about 200 yards further up the waterway and the boat was presumably a bright blue one that passed us about 10 minutes ago.

“I’ll sorry, I’m sorry. Stop, please stop, I won’t do it again,” the girl pleaded, but her mother continued to spank her firmly.

“I will, when I think you have been punished enough. Think yourself lucky it was me that caught you, not your father, or it wouldn’t be a hand you were feeling now but his slipper for sure!” she continued as she spanked along.

“What do we do Mike?” I said so quietly Mike had to press his ear to my lips to hear.

“Watch,” was all he said.

As the spanking continued ahead of us, Mike, as quiet as a Marine, slid his right hand into the water and slowly pushed back against our direction of travel. He repeated this with his left hand, then right and left. In a few moments we had silently slid back behind the other boat and out of sight. I now joined in the motion.

“Now get up and don’t let me catch you doing anything that stupid again, girl!” shouted the mother. We could just see the back of the girl now who may have been a little older than we first thought. As she stood up, her hands went straight to her bottom and she rubbed over her panties to ease the pain away. This prevented her short skirt falling back into place and Mike smirked at the view of the girl’s bright red bottom showing around her white panties. I elbowed him and we both grinned silently as we made our retreat. We waited a few moments then resumed our oar-powered journey past the boat enroute to the small waterside farm shop half a mile further down the waterway.

As the lady looked down from her slightly higher vantage point we could see her thinking, ‘Have they just seen me spanking my daughter, or were they too far away?’

Being the cheeky so-and-so I was, I couldn’t resist calling out, “Good morning, it’s a lovely day for it, isn’t it?”

“Ouch!” I exclaimed as a well-aimed foot clipped my ankle.

Later, sitting on a bench having finished an ice cream we had bought from the shop, we sat and laughed remembering what we had seen a short time ago.

“If anyone had done that to me and I found out I had been seen, I would hope a hole would open up and swallow me whole,” I said to Mike.

“What, like this?” said Mike.

My head spun in his direction as he grabbed my arm and pulled me over his athletic knees.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you bloody dare, Mike. I’m warning you!” I said, half in anger and half trying not to laugh.

This is the sort of stupid tricks we play on each other all the time.

‘If he does what I think he’s about to, I’ll get him back in spades later. You mark my words,’ I thought to myself.

Mike is 6″ taller than me and very muscular, a real catch for the right lady, so there was little point in struggling too much at this stage though I did put up token resistance, especially when he flipped my knee length skirt up over my bottom. Oh I wish I hadn’t put wash-day grey knickers on that morning!

“Don’t you f-ing dare!” I swore, knowing it would not make an atom of difference.

“Oh, be quiet, you naughty girl” he said with a slight laugh in voice and he landed the first of 6 smarting smacks on my less than glamorous underwear. Had he been a boyfriend I would have chosen something far more fetching, I am sure, and probably enjoyed it a lot more. I couldn’t shout or scream as I didn’t want anyone one from the shop to come out and see what a predicament I was in.

After the sixth and final spank he said, “There you go, off you get.”

I turned and aimed a good kick at his right shin which he dodged and I smacked my right foot on the leg of the bench.

“You are going to pay for this, Mike. You are going to pay big time, mate!” I said with my hands on my panties rubbing like the girl on the boat had done but fortunately my skirt was long enough, just, to cover the evidence of the spanking. “You are doing the rowing on the way back,” I instructed as I gently sat back in the boat, my bottom stinging warmly.

We rowed back past the moored boats and the girl was still occasionally rubbing her bottom. I shuffled on my seat in sympathy with her. Mike smiled and I trod on his toes. You just wait mate!

A couple of days later, all three of us had had a lovely day visiting Norwich and the Cathedral, and had burger and chips in a country pub on the way back to the cottage. Being 18, we were now allowed a drink and I had a pint of local cider and Mike a couple of pints of flat-looking stuff that was supposed to be beer.

“It’s proper country ale, not that foaming rubbish we get back home,” he tried to convince me, but I was sticking with the cider. As Sarah was driving she was on tonic water, but she had a couple of bottles of French red wine back at the cottage, so she could have a drink later if she fancied one.

We got back to the cottage at about 7.30 pm and I went to shower and change whilst Mike went for a run up to the shop and back; around a 3-mile round trip. Show off!  Now was my chance to get him back for putting me over his knee a few days earlier. Sarah had gone for a bike ride in the opposite direction to Mike on one of the bikes that came with the cottage. I knew Mike would be hot and sweaty and ready for a shower when he got back, so I thought I’d save him the bother! I ran a bowl of cold water and put all the ice from the icebox in the freezer into the water. Carefully standing on a chair in the kitchen, I half opened the door and put the bowl onto the partially opened door. The trap was set. I retreated to my room and took up station by the window.

After about 5 minutes, I could see Mike pounding the path about 400 yards away. A moment later, I heard a crash followed immediately but a loud scream. Oh no, Sarah had come back first, entered through the kitchen door, and walked straight into my trap that was meant for Mike.

I flew down the stairs and was greeted by the sight of a very confused and bedraggled-looking Sarah looking up from the floor where she was sitting in an icy puddle, summer dress all over the place and her bottom by the back step. Her knickers were clearly visible and inch deep in cold water! It only took a few seconds for her to come back to her senses and figure out what had happened.

“Abbie, what the hell is going on? I take it YOU are the one responsible for this?” she shouted.

To be fair, you didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to work that one out.

“Look at the mess! Water everywhere! Thank goodness I wasn’t carrying anything. What a stupid thing to do!”

“I am so, so sorry, Sarah,” I began. “It wasn’t meant for you.”

“I don’t give a flying fig who it was meant for. What on earth possessed you to do such a thing in a house that isn’t ours? Luckily, it is a stone floor, otherwise the damage could have been massive!”

To be honest, I hadn’t considered the fall-out at all. “I’ll clean it up straight away,” I said, walking towards the cleaning cupboard.

“No, you won’t, Abbie. You’ll take your punishment first. Come here!” she said matter-of-factly.

Since we had been toddlers, both our mums had treated us the same when together. No one got a treat without the other, and if either, or sometimes both of us, needed spanking then we’d get it in equal measure. Whilst Sarah had probably spanked me no more than 5 times or so in the 15 years I had known her, her spankings always left more of a mark.

Mum was mum. She took her job seriously and had brought me up pretty well. She maintained discipline and spanked me when I needed it, and Mike as well, if needs be.

Sarah, however, had let me into her life voluntarily and so if I misbehaved and ended up bending over having my bottom whacked, well, it had more of an emotional impact than just the impact her hand was making on my bottom.

Sarah sat on a chair in the kitchen, her wet bottom making a squelching sound as it hit the wooden surface.

“Get over my knee, Abbie,” she requested.

It must have been at least 2 summers since I had been in this situation last. I think it was when we were away in the Peak District and both Mike and I were spanked for making too much noise while driving in the car. Sarah stopped in a lay-by, got into the back seat and spanked Mike, then me, over her knee there.

Here in a kitchen in Norfolk, history was about to repeat itself. Slowly, I offered myself to her, leaning forwards and prostrating myself on her lap. I heard the sound of gravel crunching and looked up and to the side. Mike was standing at the window, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. He ducked back as Sarah glanced to the side to see what I was looking at, and she missed him.

At this stage, there was no real need for a lecture. I knew what I had done. Sarah knew what I had done. Mike, now glancing in the very corner of the window, had no idea what I had done, but was no doubt looking forward to hearing the excuse after he had witnessed the effect. It must have bemused him looking at me settling over his mum’s lap ready to be spanked; my perfectly presented bottom dressed in a white t-shirt and short red skirt, whilst his mum was sat on the chair looking bedraggled as though she had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

I knew the drill. Sarah started the spanking over my skirt; she usually did this as a sort of warm-up, then after about 30 seconds of alternating between spanking one side then the other and making sure my whole bottom was spanked, she pulled my skirt up revealing a smart pair of bright blue panties. At least they weren’t washday grey like the other day, I thought, searching for any positive at this stage.

Sarah spanked on and I could feel my face burning nearly as much as my poor sore bottom, not just because the blood was rushing to my head but also because without looking I could feel Mike’s eyes enjoying every second of my discomfort.

Sarah spanked on; hers’ were always lengthy affairs. She must have a wrist and hand of steel; it certainly felt like it! Thankfully, she had never spanked me bare bottom; I would have died!

Eventually, the spanking ended. My front was now wet from the water on Sarah’s clothes, though the evening heat and the heat from my bum would soon dry that off. I gingerly stood up and rubbed my bottom, and then I caught Mike in the corner of my eye retreating once more before coming back noisily 5 minutes later.

“I am sorry I had to do that, Abbie, but you had it coming. What was it all about then?” she finally let me tell my side of the story. When I had told her, she half laughed and said, “Sounds about right for you two,” as Mike came into the kitchen.

“Wow, what happened here?” he enquired, sloshing in the water by the door.

“Oh just some spilt water,” said Sarah. “Abbie is about to clear it up. I suspect she might like some help with that, Mike,” she said pointedly. She then left and went to get showered and into some dry clothes.

“So, what happened?” said Mike. ” I saw you bending over her knee but no idea what happened before that.”

“Well, I said when you spanked me the other day I would pay you back. I put a plastic bowl of iced water on top of the back door, intending it as a trap for you, forgetting your mum could come back at any time, which is sort of what happened.”

Mike was smirking at this point and I was punching him in the shoulder, smiling, trying to shut him up.

“So, in short, to pay me back for giving you a playful spanking the other day, you earned yourself a full-on spanking from mum? Oh, that is priceless, Abbie. It really is!”

He laughed as I smacked him on the thigh with the wet mop.

“Hey! Better not start that again, Abbie, or you might end up with another spanking!”

We laughed and gave each other a big hug, but Mike, the swine, couldn’t resist landing one well-aimed smack right in the middle of my bottom.

We finished clearing up and I apologised to Sarah again when she came down. She smiled warmly and gave me a hug as if to say, “Sorry I had to do that.”

We went for a short walk to the woods behind the fields to see if we could spot barn owls we had heard hooting all week before turning in for the night. My bum was still feeling the effects of Sarah’s attentions, so I lay on my side and drifted off to sleep.

That was the last time Sarah had the need to spank me, though we did holiday together a few times. I think I was a little too old to go across her knee at that stage, but that didn’t stop Mike from giving me the occasional ‘play spanking’. With a friend like Mike, who needs enemies?

The End

© Jill Waterhouse 2021