Mother disciplines daughter in restaurant restroom

Living in a small town had its benefits, of course. No
smog, no traffic, a comfortable cost of living, and a
sense of community in which neighbors looked after one
another. On the other hand, 14-year-old Cynthia, often
thought, this small town crap was just boring.
Besides, if you got in trouble, everybody knew about
it, and you’d keep running into people you just hated.

Not that Cynthia was getting into trouble a lot. She
was a well-bred colt, active in extracurricular
activities and in church groups. Cynthia was pretty
much a creation of a Norman Rockwell painting, about
5’1″, blue eyes, a dirty blonde ponytail and a well-
scrubbed face. She was also well behaved, in as much
as Dad was a respectable businessman who actually had
served on the City Council years ago and Mom stayed
home to mind the kids while working occasionally as a
legal administrative assistant. Basically, a normal
kid going through the usual emotional turmoil
befitting her age, plus a bit of pre-teen stupidity
about which the psychology text books contained
chapter after chapter.

Mom was the disciplinarian in the household, on the
few occasions when discipline was necessary. Her
method was usually an icy glare, a few sharp words
and, from time to time, a lengthy threat about the
antique wooden hairbrush she used for keeping her own
long black hair under control.

Oh, there were a few spankings for Cindy and her
younger brother, Eddie, along the way, but they were
usually on-the-spot whacks to the seat of their pants
that did more to injure their pride than their
backsides. Only once, about three years ago, did Cindy
incur Mom’s wrath enough to incur a serious spanking,
and that was for lying about who broke the cookie jar.
In that instance, she blamed Eddie, but Mom knew the
little boy could not possibly have reached it.

That experience was enough for Cynthia, and she never
lied (on purpose) again, remembering very clearly how
horrible it was to have Mom pull her jeans down and
smack her panties hard for about 5 whole minutes, and
right in front of Aunt Edna, too!

**

Sunday evening, Dad decided to take the family out for
dinner at a nice restaurant on the edge of town. But
Cynthia threw a tantrum, refusing to go because she so
badly wanted to watch the Simpsons instead. At first,
she requested to be excused, then demanded that she
not have to go, then started yelling and crying about
what rotten parents she had. When Mom told her firmly
that she was about to find out what rotten parents
they were, Cindy finally gave up.

All the way in the car she was sullen, and as dinner
proceeded, she was still cranky and impertinent when
spoken to. She was squirming in her chair, rocking
back on it, playing with her food and taunting Eddie
about what items on the menu really meant. Mom tried
to control this embarrassing behavior by shooting
stern glares her daughter’s way and by elbowing her in
the ribs when she was getting out of line.

While the family was waiting for the dessert menu,
Cynthia started shooting little spitballs at Eddie,
who ignored the teasing at first, then raised his hand
toward her as a mock threat. Cynthia had not been
watching him and was so surprised at the threat that
she tipped over backwards in her chair in a clatter,
causing the two elderly women behind her to spill
coffee all over the table and some on themselves.

Mom had enough, and swung into action. “Where are you
going, dear?” her implacable husband asked, as she
pushed her chair back and jerked Cindy up from the
floor like a rag doll. “We have an appointment in the
ladies room,” she said firmly, and began marching her
impudent daughter toward the back of the restaurant.

Cindy was spluttering. “Mom, Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean it. Where are we going,” she said with
apprehension, figuring she was going to have to have
Mom clean up her dress and endure a sharp dressing
down.

Mom pushed the bathroom door open, noticed that it was
empty and then told her daughter: “Young lady, I have
had enough of you. It’s bad enough the way you act in
the privacy of our home, but now you are shaming us,
and yourself, in public. And I intend to put an end to
it right now!”

“Whaddaya mean,” Cynthia snarled.

“What I mean is THIS,” her mother replied, hustling
her daughter to the red vinyl couch that furnished
every ladies room in America. In one motion, she sat
down and pulled Cindy across her lap. Cindy couldn’t
believe what was happening! She could only gasp in
terror as her normally mild-mannered mother scrunched
up the white lace party dress and quickly whisked the
girl’s panties down, leaving her small pale bottom
exposed across Mom’s right leg.

“You’re getting a long overdue spanking, missy,” she
said, pulling out a hairbrush from her purse.

“But I didn’t do anything! Noooooo! Mom Nooo! I’m
sorry!”

It was far too late for that, but Cindy was lucky in a
way. The brush was only a small purse-size implement,
with a short handle and a blue plastic back with a
curve down the middle that arrayed the plastic
bristles in a semicircle.

Cindy didn’t feel lucky as her Mom started in.

SMACK!

SMACK

SMACK!

SMACK!

“There, you little brat!”

SMACK!

“You are going to behave in public from now on, young
lady!”

OWWW!” Cindy screamed through clenched teeth.
“Owwwwwww!!! OUCH! Stop it mommy stop it!”

But her Mother kept it up, implanting cylindrical red
splotches across Cindy’s tender bottom.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

Cynthia was losing control, and finally burst into
tears when Mom told her, matter-of-factly, “This is
what a rotten parent I am. And this is how you will be
treated in the future when you sass back and disobey
at home, too!”

Poor Cindy was losing control, flailing about so hard
that her fuzzy little private place — so private she
had showed it to only two boys — was exposed under
her dress. Although a loving and gentle woman, Mom was
beginning to see the results of her handiwork and
decided to lay it on so hard that her daughter would
never misbehave in public again. Up and down her right
wrist snapped.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

Cindy was promising to be good, begging Mom to ease
up, and she even promised to grow up and solve world
hunger if only the paddling would stop.

“I know this hurts you, Cynthia,” Mom said through the
gasps of her own exhaustion. “But I guarantee you will
thank me for this in a couple of years.” Cindy bit her
lip so hard that the tears started stinging it. Mom
was not yet done.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

This was the worst licking Cindy would ever get, but
instead of vowing to mend her ways, she was thinking
of ways of murdering her mother. The ways multiplied
in the next second as the ladies room door swung open.
The two older ladies, Thelma and Louise, had come in
after paying their check to repair the damage that the
little blonde brat had caused.

Their jaws dropped in unison at the sight of the
pretty mother spanking her lovely minx on the bare
bottom, and with a hairbrush no less. “Oh, pardon us,”
said Louise.

Mom looked up with disgust and motioned with her head
for them to go away. Cindy felt doubly humiliated,
triply humiliated actually when she saw the women.
Louise was the town librarian and Thelma, that battle
axe, had been, before retirement last year, the
assistant principal at the elementary school.

Thelma, her gray hair tied in a severe bun, and her
flower print couch-patterned dress, shushed Louise. “I
think we ought to watch, don’t you. This little lass
has had this coming a long time, I’ll bet. I sure wish
I could have paddled her butt all those times she was
sent to my office!”

At that, Mom met Thelma’s eyes and said, “What do you
mean? I didn’t know Cynthia was any trouble!”

“Well, you’re mistaken, honey,” Thelma replied
sweetly. “Sure she was a good student, but a real
hellion on the playground. I always thought it was a
shame when the City Council, with her dad leading the
way, voted to outlaw spanking at school.”

“I-I… didn’t know abbboutt that,” Mom replied,
delivering several sharp smacks to Cindy’s reddening
bottom. “Is that true, Cindy,” she asked.

From her position bent over the maternal lap, she was
in a difficult position to begin with. “Well,”
demanded Mom. “I want an answer!”

Cindy reluctantly nodded her head, spilling tears onto
the couch cushion and onto the floor. “In that case,
you have my apologies, ladies. And I think this is a
perfect time for you make up for lost opportunities.”

Mom stood up suddenly, and Cindy fell sideways to the
floor, her dress falling down to cover her backside.
Hobbled by the panties spread inside out around her
knees, she stumbled as she tried to stand and flee.
But Mom grabbed her by the shoulder and moved her
right in front of that evil, wicked witch, Thelma
Henderson.

“Apologize to Mrs. Henderson,” Mom commanded. “I’m
sorry,” a meek and sobbing Cynthia managed to mumble.

“Mrs. Henderson, Cynthia has promised to behave after
we leave here, but maybe you would like to reinforce
the lesson she is learning.”

“Indeed, I would,” Thelma grinned. Mom let go of her
daughter for just an instant before Mrs. Henderson
turned the girl around, lifted the dress and began
applying a very hard hand to her bottom. For an old
lady, she sure could spank, and, in fact, she was
starting to remember the switching she had once given
a boy about Cynthia’s age who, she now believed,
turned out to be the girl’s own father.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

“You were a naughty girl at my school!”

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

“And you should have been paddled before this.”

“Waaaahaaaaa Waaaahhhaaaa!!!” cried Cynthia, now
plotting various methods of suicide rather than endure
this public shame any longer.

“Louise,” offered Mrs. Henderson. “Speaking of
overdue, maybe you should remind this brat about
returning library books on time.”

“Gladly,” replied Louise Becker, moving to take
Thelma’s spot. Louise, however, strong from shelving
books for 40 years, bent the girl far over her left
arm, put her foot between Cindy’s dancing feet and
spread the girl’s legs apart. Now the 14-year-old’s
fire-engine-red backside had even more area exposed
for the spanking. The two women could not help but
notice the downy golden fur sprouting on the opposite
side of Cindy’s bottom curve.

Louise set about her command performance with a
ringing smack on Cindy’s right cheek. Horribly, for
the girl, Mrs. Becker let her palm rest there for a
moment and dug in her two-inch red nails in a claw-
like pinch to the brat’s already mortified flesh.

Cynthia was a mess, crying hard, her nose running, her
chest heaving and her cute little backside trying
unsuccessfully to clench against the force of the
beating.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK! Louise continued with relish.

Finally, Mom quietly said, “Enough.” Cynthia was
bawling like a four-year-old. Mom pulled the panties
back up and smoothed out the dress, guiding Cindy to
the sink to help her wash the face that would pout no
longer. As the two older ladies stood beaming with
pride, Mom asked if they would like to join the family
for dessert.

“Oh, no,” grinned Thelma. “We’ve just had our
dessert.”

When Mom took her trembling and well-paddled daughter
back through the swinging door to the main room of the
restaurant, Cynthia nearly collapsed in a shame she
would never live down until she moved to the big city.
The entire room of diners, including some folks and
kids she knew quite well, were on their feet
applauding her Mom!

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