Sunday, February 05, 2017

Reclaiming Her Son

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© Guyspencer 2017

Reclaiming Her Son

It was a normal Saturday morning in the Adkins' residence. Martha, a single working mother with one teenage boy, was using the morning to catch up on her housework. She had started shortly after dawn, but had avoided the bedroom area to avoid waking Henry, who preferred to sleep away his Saturday mornings.

Finally she heard him showering. Later Henry found her to announce that he would be off to the mall to meet with friends.

She received no “good morning” hug from Henry, and knew better than to try. As it was, she was happy that he shown her the courtesy of saying where he was going. And then, as usual, he was gone for the day.

Or so she thought.


Martha was worried about Henry, worried that she was somehow losing him. Since the dawning of his teen years, he had often seemed remote. He wasn't a bad boy, he wasn't openly disrespectful, he didn't get into trouble, but neither was he the loving and close son that she craved.

However, the last few weeks had been worse than normal. Clearly something was bothering Henry, but he wouldn't discuss it. She had tried, but just couldn't find the right opening to start a conversation with him.

Some of you might think that Martha was being overly sensitive, or perhaps behaving like an over-controlling “helicopter mom”, or that Henry was understandably trying to “cut apron strings” as normal teens do. But Martha had reason to worry. In Henry she saw his father Dennis, her only husband. That marriage had started out as young marriages do, in a sexual blur. However, eventually sex wasn't enough, and she found that Dennis habitually erected barriers to true closeness. After Henry's birth, those barriers widened.

After Henry arrived, Dennis switched jobs in favor of one that required travel. Over the next two years, he simply drifted away. There never was a divorce, Dennis just gradually stopped coming around. Fortunately Martha had a job, because eventually Dennis even stopped sending money. When she tried to sue for child support, she discovered that her husband had vanished with no forwarding address. That left Martha unsure if she is still married or a widow!

Having lost one man from her life, Martha was deathly afraid of losing Henry, who was all she had left.


By recent standards, that morning's encounter with Henry had actually been pleasant. Hoping that he would have a good day with his friends and perhaps return in a talkative mood, Martha pitched into her housework with a will. Between wash loads, she ran the vacuum cleaner. That darn washing machine was slow, so it set the pace for her entire morning. When it finally finished the second load, Martha realized that she hadn't collected the next load of dirty clothes. Not wanting the machine to sit idle, she grabbed an empty basket and rushed towards her most dependable source of dirty clothing, Henry's bedroom.

Holding the ungainly basket while turning the doorknob was awkward, momentarily distracting her as she and the basket finally squeezed into the room. She had actually advanced several steps into the room before it dawned on her that she wasn't alone. Henry was on his bed, stark naked. It had been years since Martha had last seen her son naked, but his impressive erection instantly reminded her how close he was to adulthood.

Had Martha not been momentarily distracted as she opened that bedroom door, she might have heard the noises that Henry was making and not entered. But she thought he had departed an hour ago!
Henry, of course, was even more distracted. In fact, it was clear to Martha that her son was just a few strokes from orgasm.

Henry's dilated eyes caught a nearby movement. He paused and struggled to focus his eyes on the unexpected intrusion.

Mother and son were simultaneously horrified at their encounter! Given time to properly think, Martha might have handled the situation differently. As it was, she simply backed out of the room with a mumbled apology, closing the door behind her.


A long silence ensued, with Henry closed up in his bedroom and Martha sitting in the kitchen wondering what to do next. Finally, deciding to take a chance, she knocked on his door. “Henry, can I come in for a minute?”

She heard a sound from within. It wasn't a “NO!” so she took it for an invitation and entered. To her relief he was dressed, to her consternation he was in tears.

He spoke first, “I'm sorry Mom, but I can't help myself.”

She spoke second, “I'm sorry son, but I thought you were gone.”

He replied bitterly, “I meant to go, but decided to … you know … instead. I guess you're mad at me now. I've wanted to talk to you about this for a long time, but was too ashamed.”

Her face relaxed, but carefully she didn't smile, “You know that what you were doing is perfectly natural for someone your age...right?”

“None of my friends do it, not one of them. But I can't seem to stop.”

She spoke carefully, enunciating every word, “Your friends are liars, every one of them. What you were doing is called masturbating. It's perfectly normal, especially for a boy your age. This is just your body's way of preparing itself to be a lover, a husband, and eventually a father.”

She changed tactics, “Do you admit to your friends that you masturbate?”

His eyes widened, “Never! I would be the laughing stock of the school.”

She allowed herself to smile, “And now you see why your friends also lie.”

“So,” he breathed with relief in his voice, “You're really not mad? It's been two years since my last spanking, but I really thought that's why you came back into my room.”

“Look,” Martha explained, “If you were spending so much time masturbating that it crowded everything else out of your life, then that would be a problem. But as a practical matter, that doesn't happen because you would soon be too sore to continue. So no, I'm neither surprised nor mad at you.”


Amazingly, that led to the first relaxed conversation that Martha had had with her son for the last several months. Finally feeling that she couldn't pass up this opportunity, she asked, “Henry, something has been bothering you lately. Was it masturbation that was worrying you?”

A cloud passed over his face. “Err, no. Um Mom, when you walked in on me, I thought about getting dressed and then running out of the house. But then, I decided to stay so you could spank me about two things and then I would have everything off of my mind.”

“First, I'm not going to punish you for masturbating. But can we talk about that other thing that's bothering you?”

“You'll want to punish me.” he warned.

“Let me decide about that Henry. Just spit it out and then we'll both feel better.”

He spoke to the floor, “Okay, remember that class field trip a few weeks ago?

“Yes, what about it?”

“Well, that's not what it was. Actually Greg Roberts and I skipped school.”

She looked confused, “But I signed the form”

He blushed, “That was fake, printed up so I could scan your signature for the fake sick note.”

Martha was momentarily speechless, but Henry rushed on, “Greg got caught. He wouldn't give up my name, so his father busted his ass. He couldn't sit for two days! I already felt bad about what I did, but what happened to Greg just pushed me over the top. I've wanted to tell you, but just couldn't put it into words. So it was easier to avoid you.
“Let me get this straight,” Martha said carefully, “You lied to me about a class field trip as part of a scheme to cut classes for a day?”

“Yea Mom, that's about it, and it wasn't even fun! We couldn't hang out in public because school was in session, so we had to kinda hide out. That made it a boring day.”

“Well”, Martha said, “Your masturbation is our little secret, but this other thing is a big deal. You know that I'll have to punish you for that...right?”

Sadly, he nodded.


It had been over two years since the last time she had spanked Henry, and he had grown since then. In fact, he was undeniably bigger and stronger than her. So they had a long talk about him “taking his punishment like a man” and cooperating with the punishment that he agreed he had earned
So finally she passed formal judgment, “Henry, I'm going to spank you harder than I ever have before. It's been a couple of years, but surely you remember the procedure. Go to my room, but leave the door wide open. You'll find the hairbrush in the Punishment Drawer. Get it out for me as usual. And then I want you to undress. This time you will remove everything! After that, stand in the usual corner.”

Lovingly she made one small concession, “You may keep your underpants on until it's time for your spanking, but then they come off too. No arguments...right?”

Thankfully, he agreed. And then Henry made the sad trek to the master bedroom.


That bedroom was normally Martha's private place, but that's where she had always taken Henry for his spankings. Two years since his last spanking, Henry felt odd being in his mother's private haven. All evidence that Martha had ever been married had finally disappeared. Since her life was devoted to raising her son, there had been no men in her life. So this bedroom had become a feminine place, smelling of powder and perfume, decorated in pinks and ruffles. 

An old dresser was Henry's first destination. Ever since he had graduated from hand spankings, a small center drawer in that dresser had been known as the “Punishment Drawer”. He opened it, and saw the original paddle that his mother had used on his little bottom. It was the kind that once had a ball tethered to it. The ball was long gone, but that light little paddle remained in the bottom of the drawer. 

Also the drawer held a somewhat more substantial paddle. This was a novelty item with a cartoon picture on it and the words “Heat for the Seat”. That paddle could impart a surprisingly vicious sting. But when Henry was about twelve, he had tried to resist a spanking in an attempt to convince his mother that he was too tough for her to spank. Martha had responded by halting that punishment in mid-spank. She had made him dress and then accompany her downtown, where she purchased a heavy hardwood hairbrush. And then she took him home and finished his punishment. Even today, he still had great respect for that hairbrush. Unhappily he lifted it from the drawer. Today it would see use for the first time in some two years.

With the hairbrush gone, he could see further into the drawer. Way in the back was a thick coiled man's belt. Henry gasped and shivered at the sight. This was new! Was his mother thinking of using it on him? Was that belt a silent threat? One thing was sure, he wouldn't ask his mother about that belt! Just in case she had forgotten about it, he wouldn't risk reminding her.

It felt funny to undress in his mother's bedroom, but his orders were clear. Always before, she had simply made him lower his pants and underpants for punishment. But today she had clearly told him to remove everything, relenting only temporarily on the matter of his underpants. He wondered about that change in his mother's spanking procedure, but knew it was better to strictly obey orders. 

Wearing only his underpants, Henry put himself into a corner that hadn't seen his nose for the last two years. His heart thumped in his chest. Blood rushed noisily through his ears. Now he could only wait...and think.


Hands shaking, Martha sipped a cup of microwaved tea. Her head spun with mixed emotions. On one hand, she honestly deplored spanking her son. On the other hand, the more she thought about what he had done, the angrier she became. Worse, the boy could easily have gotten away with his stunt if his own sense of guilt hadn't derailed him
But another part of Martha wanted to sing! Moments ago she had feared that she was losing her son. Now she realized that she had seriously misinterpreted his behavior. Far from repeating his father's behavior as she had feared, Henry was merely doing the usual dumb things that teenagers do. Yes, he must be punished. But after that punishment, she had hope of reclaiming her son. Perhaps the experience would bring them closer?

Well, she could hope.

Temporarily leaving her tea, she quietly walked to her room.

As expected, the door was wide open. She was relieved to find that Henry had obeyed her instructions to the letter. The hairbrush was on the bed, his clothing was piled semi-neatly on the floor. Wearing only his underpants, he stood in the corner
She spoke, “We both need time to calm down and to think. So do some corner time while you think about what you did wrong. Perhaps more importantly, think about what lesson you will learn from your punishment. I'll look in on you from time-to-time.”

And then she went back to her tea.


Martha stared at a few rogue tea leaves floating in the bottom of her rapidly cooling cup. As she did, she recalled the vision of her mostly-naked son standing in that corner. Before sending him to her room, she and Henry had agreed that he would submit to his spanking “to the best of his ability”. Frankly, Henry was now taller, heavier, and stronger than her. If he decided to rebel and refuse to be punished, there would be little that she could do about it. If that happened, it would cost Martha her parental authority over Henry, a price she wasn't prepared to pay. Thus, Martha was careful to reason with her son and to obtain his agreement before announcing his punishment. However, given his obvious guilt feelings, gaining that agreement wasn't hard.

Her rear view of Henry had been startlingly different from her memory of the last time he had filled that corner, some two years ago. Her “little boy” had greatly matured over the last two years. He was taller, more filled-out, more muscular. In every dimension, he was growing into a man.

Well, it was probably more accurate to call him an almost-man, an almost-man who definitely needed a spanking!

Also different this time was his attire. Last time he had occupied that corner fully clothed, except that his pants and underpants had been lowered to his knees leaving his boyish bottom on display. But today, that bottom was the only area of him that was covered. But that was a temporary situation!
Why had she decreed that he be nude for this spanking? Well, it goes back to that “cooperation” thing, and actually had little to do with humiliating or shaming him. She wanted him to be constantly reminded that he was voluntarily and totally submitting to this spanking. To her, that meant submitting whilst holding nothing back. Therefore Henry would offer himself with nothing that might get between his bottom and that hairbrush.

She checked the time. She wanted him to have a full hour of pre-spanking corner time, but there were fifteen minutes to go. She craved a glass of wine, but settled for a second cup of tea. As she waited, she wisely rehearsed coming events in her head, seeking flaws in her plan. She was wearing slacks, which seemed perfect for the job, but she did think of two small issues, and decided on small changes to prevent them.


As Martha entered her bedroom, she released Henry from his corner. He turned to see her heading straight towards her dresser. His mouth turned dry as he watched her open the “punishment drawer”. Was she going for that belt? To his relief and puzzlement, she extracted his old “Heat for the Seat” paddle, which hadn't seen use since he was twelve.

She explained: “It's been a while since I spanked you, and you've gotten bigger and tougher since then. I don't know if my hand is still up to the job of properly warming your bottom for the hairbrush, so this might help.” Dumbly, he nodded.

Next she asked him if he wanted to use the bathroom. Wisely, he said “yes ma-am”
She pointed him towards her en-suite bathroom. “Hurry. Bring me a bath towel when you're done”.
She heard him pee, and then flush. Bath towel in hand, he emerged to find his mother sitting on the edge of her bed. She accepted the towel and spread it across her lap. She didn't explain, but the towel was to provide a bit of physical and psychological distance between her thighs and his soon-to-be-bared groin. 

Then came a short pre-spanking discussion: “You lied to me, and then you broke school rules by skipping class, and then you lied again by submitting that fraudulent sick note. That could be three spankings! However, assuming your cooperation, one hard spanking will do. After that, as far as I am concerned you will be forgiven. However, you'll still have to face whatever punishment your school decides on. I'll talk to your Principal Monday morning.”

Henry frowned at that last part, he had hoped that his school wouldn't be involved, but after a moment's reflection he made no objection. 

Then she asked him what lessons he expected to learn from his punishment. From past experience this was an expected part of his mother's punishment routine, so Henry had a satisfactory answer ready.

And then Martha asked him one last time to affirm his promise and determination to “Take his punishment like a man” and to cooperate to the best of his ability. His mouth dry and his heart racing, the boy agreed to “do his very best.”

Martha scooted back on the bed, making her feet come off the floor. “Okay” she said patting her lap. “Let's finish this unpleasant business. Take your underpants right off and then climb up on my lap.”
His brain in a protective fog, the boy obeyed, lowering his underpants, stepping out of them, climbing up on the bed and then crawling across his mother's lap. His body was supported at both ends by the bed, taking some of his considerable weight off of his mother. The towel felt odd against his semi-erect penis.

“Grab a pillow,” she ordered, “wrap your arms around it and bury your face. This is family business, so the less the neighbors hear the better.”


Following her normal spanking pattern, she started with mild but slowly escalating warm-up spanks, using just her hand to rain mild slaps all over his buttocks. She carefully “staked out her territory” by spanking every square inch of those firm hillocks to a mild pink patina. Then, according to her usual pattern, she moved down to his “sit spots” to do the same. 

Of course, she had Henry's undivided attention! So when she continued on down to the backs of his legs and his outer thighs, this signaled something that Henry had already suspected; this would be a severe spanking. For lessor offenses, she normally left that part unspanked.

Then she stopped momentarily to inspect her work, ensuring that she had left no part of his bottom unspanked. Finally she resumed anew, starting at the beginning and spanking each area in turn, only now she spanked slightly harder, methodically leaving each area pinker than before.

By now, Henry was leaking a few tears, but was barely squirming in response to the spreading warmth in his bottom. But still, the boy seemed truly contrite. He repeated what was to become a mantra throughout his punishment, “I'm sorry mom, I'm sorry mom.” 

After Martha had completed the fourth round of spanking Henry's muscular bottom, he was definitely squirming and his bottom was blooming from pink to red. The problem was, the palm of her hand was stinging as much as his bottom was. Fortunately, Martha had anticipated that problem. Picking up that light paddle left over from Henry's “tween” years, she continued his “warmup”
His gasps and increased squirm assured her that this treatment was getting to him. Her first “round” with that paddle was only moderately hard, but the second round was applied full strength, and was intended to make him “break through” into real tears.

It worked! His shoulders shook as he shed tears into her favorite pillow. His apologies continued despite his tears, “I'm sorry mom, I'll never lie again”. Belatedly Martha realized that she should have protected that pillow with a towel to catch Henry's tears, drool and worse. She shrugged, “too late now”!

As she attacked his legs and thighs with the paddle, Henry started to lose self-control. His right hand left the pillow and drifted back towards his bottom. That wasn't a problem because he couldn't reach the area that she was spanking. However, he bent his legs at the knees, temporarily protecting the target area. She paused, and then spoke reasonably but firmly, “I'll help you restrain your legs in just a moment, but I must finish this area first. If you'll help me for just a moment by keeping your legs down, I'll be finished with everything below your sit spots and I won't need to use the hairbrush down there. Can you do that for me?”

He agreed to try, He lowered his feet back down to the bed and then visibly braced himself for the attempt.

She raised the paddle and let fly to the area just below his sit spots. He shrieked, “Owwwww!' but gave no serious interference as his mother lashed the back of his upper legs, and as much of his outer thighs as she could reach. As his kicks exposed inner thigh, she even got in a few licks there. Soon that lower area had been “toasted” to her satisfaction.

She stopped, critically examined her work, and then warned Henry, “Okay get up for a moment. No rubbing because we're not done. Understand?

Still sobbing, he nodded his head in the affirmative, so she helped him slide his feet off the bed and down to the floor. Apparently oblivious to his exposure, he danced a bit. His hands strayed near his bottom, but she gave him a sharp look, silently reminding him that it wasn't yet okay to rub the sting from his bottom
Her voice firm, she asked, “Are you thinking about the lesson you are learning?
“Yes mom”, he sobbed, “And I'm really sorry! I'll never do that again.”

Her voice was soft yet firm, “Good Henry, I'm glad to hear that this terrible experience won't be wasted. It's time for the serious part of your punishment now. Can you take it like a man?”

He seemed to consider a protest, or perhaps a last-second appeal, but the combination of his guilt and his pride answered for him, “Y-y-yes mom”.

“Let's get you positioned then.” 

This had happened before, so he knew what to do.


She slid herself closer to the edge of the bed, spread her thighs, readjusted the towel, and then pulled Henry over her left thigh, using her right leg to trap both of his legs. Automatically he buried her face in the pillow and then put his right hand into the small of his back so his mother could restrain it.
With Henry firmly locked down into place, Martha sighed before picking up the hairbrush. Brush in hand, she examined the already-red target area, noting that Henry was clenching in unhappy anticipation. Surprising herself, she paused to reconsider. 

Was she really doing the right thing? Was it possible that she had already spanked him enough? She was sorely tempted to call off the rest of his punishment. What finally decided the issue for Martha was thoughts of Henry's obvious guilt feelings. Oh sure, Martha could forgive her son, but if she didn't give him the punishment he expected, would he forgive himself?

“Okay Henry” she said quietly, “Hang on because here comes the worst part.”

He sobbed and stiffened in response.

Her temporary doubts resolved, she used that potent hairbrush quickly and decisively, leaving marks calculated to deliver a reminder each time he sat down for the next couple days. The room resounded with the noise of hardwood repeatedly impacting his firm male flesh. He bucked, bawled and howled.
But then it was done.


Twenty minutes later, his tears were mostly dried. He was too big to curl up in her lap, but not too big to hug his mother and cry into her shoulder. Forgotten, his underpants still lay on the floor. Martha noticed, but saw no reason to mention it.

Once he stopped crying, the spanked and forgiven boy wanted to talk, and that certainly suited Martha. 

For now, she had her son back again. And for now, that would do!

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