F/M Spanking Story – The Peeker

(What? You thought that there were no more reader-submitted F/M Spanking stories? Wrong. Here’s another great one…   – Dana)
 

I grew up in the 1950s, when most mothers were
the housekeepers and didn’t have to go back to
work as soon as the kids were old enough to
leave in the care of someone else. I’d often
go home with friends after school for a couple
of hours of play or study before dinner, so we
got to know our friends’ mothers nearly as
well as our own. Friends shared a lot about
their home lives, so, among other “secrets,” we
knew who got spankings at home. It was nearly always
Mom who did the spanking
because she was there when a spanking was called for.

Another thing about the stay-at-home moms of
that era was that unless they had to leave the
house to go shopping or meet a friend, they frequently
wouldn’t get fully dressed
until dinnertime. It wasn’t unusual, particularly in
pre-air conditioning Summers, to see a woman wearing
only a slip while at home. A full slip
covered what needed to be covered for modesty,
it was cool and comfortable, and, at least
within the family (which included the kids’ friends) it
wasn’t an embarrassing state of
undress. It wasn’t until my teens when I
started going to movies that I realized that a
woman in a slip implied a certain sexiness and
intimacy. In today’s movies, we have “partial nudity”
and “mature” ratings for that.

“Settle down or I’ll spank you both!” was a
frequent warning from the mother of one of my best
friends in Junior High School.
While she never carried out that threat on my backside,
there were times when she’d
come over to where
we were playing, drag my friend off to his
room, and soon I’d hear the sounds of spanking
coming from upstairs. A few minutes later, they’d come
back downstairs hand in hand,
she warm and comforting, he a little shaky, and then
we’d go back to our play.

Fast-forward twenty years. I have a good job with an
engineering firm. I enjoy my work and
the people I work with, I’m doing well, getting
frequent awards and bonuses, and
thinking life is good there. One afternoon,
however, the personnel director (they didn’t
call it Human Resources yet) asked me to come
to her office. This was sort of like being
called to the principal’s office at school. I went right
up, she greeted me, and she asked
me to come in and close the office door.

She told me that she was investigating a
rather curious complaint. One of the women in
my office said that occasionally she would get
an uncomfortable feeling when I was around
her, like a feeling that she was being watched.
This didn’t happen all the time, but
it bothered her and she wondered if maybe it
was HER problem. It wasn’t classic sexual
harassment because I had never made any
advances to her, nor said anything
offensive, nor touched her in an inappropriate manner.
Sometimes, she said, she just felt
uncomfortable around me, almost like she was being
watched.

The personnel director initially thought that
this woman was just uptight about something,
but after she heard pretty much the same story
from a couple of other women in the office, she
decided that there might be something to
it. She wanted to make me aware of what she
had been hearing and try to learn what was going on.

After some fumbling around for words, I
explained that for me, seeing a flash of slip
lace was a turn-on. It suggested to me that the woman
was mature, authoritative, a little sexy without being
blatent, and maybe a little old fashioned. (It never
occurred to me that
she might just be a sloppy dresser.) And, yes,
when I noticed a woman with her slip showing,
I would try harder to catch a glimpse than
probably what was politically correct.

The whole story of my youth tumbled out; mother in
her slip, the spankings I heard
but never received or even directly witnessed. The
personnel director, with her background in
psychology and therapy, put it all together and
concluded that I had a pent-up craving to
get the spanking from mom-in-her-slip that I
never received as a child.

She didn’t want my actions to lead to a sexual
harassment lawsuit, nor did she want to fire
me since I was a valuable asset to the company.
She thought, however, that she might be able
to help me understand my suppressed feelings and,
in the process, break this
annoying little habit. She felt it best to keep this
private, so she asked me to come to her home
the following Sunday afternoon.

She greeted me at the door dressed in a slip,
just like my best friend’s mother of
twenty years ago, only this time we were about the
same age. She offered me a cup of coffee, and
we went over the details of my story one more
time. She said  she spanked her own children,
so she had plenty of experience in that area,
and she could see no reason why she shouldn’t
give me that spanking that I secretly craved.

She wasted no time pulling me across her lap and
lowering my pants. With the palm of
her hand on my bare bottom, she taught me a lesson
about respect, and that a woman was not a sex
object no matter how she dressed. She’d
occasionally let me up and “test” me by
watching to see if I glanced at her slip as we
sat talking. As soon as I did, it was back
over her lap for another dose of her medicine.

Eventually she got through to me. I calmed down,
and she allowed me to go home,reminding me to be
on my best behavior in the office from then on.