Spare the Rod, Spoil Mrs Mitchell

Spare the Rod. Spoil Mrs Mitchell

[Based on a true story]

Mrs Mitchell lived at number 28, just down the road from Mrs Sinclair at number 16, where Simon had been earlier in the morning to fix a troublesome vacuum cleaner. Although there wasn't any problem that Simon could find with the cleaner, it worked perfectly.

Simon, a self employed electrician, enjoyed his work and as an enthusiastic young man with a fledgling business he tried to keep all his customers happy. Mrs Sinclair, one of his regular patrons, was left very happy that morning and had called Mrs Mitchell to let her know that Simon was on his way to have a look at her washing machine.

Simon rang the bell to number 28 and waited a short while until his newest customer, Mrs Mitchell, opened the door. They briefly sized each other up. She was dressed smartly, business like in a black jacket and matching skirt. He guessed she was maybe twice his age, although fresh faced, with a willowy hourglass figure that accentuated her natural feminine charms. He smiled at Mrs Mitchell cheerfully and she appreciated the young man's energy as his nimble solid frame picked up the heavy toolbox ready to enter her hallway.

'You must be Simon, here to have a look at my naughty washing machine' Mrs Mitchell cheekily enquired with a smirk as she beckoned the man in and led him into her kitchen'

'It stopped working yesterday, in fact just after Mrs Sinclair called round and was telling me about you, that she had booked you for a service call this morning. It was lucky she left your number and she did say you are very thorough and never leave a customer unsatisfied.'

Simon nodded wondering exactly what Mrs Sinclair may have told the attractive mature married woman who was now standing over him and he knelt down and started to unscrew the control plate of the washing machine.

'You must be very clever Simon, to be able to fix all these things, and it's so lovely to see a young man enjoying his work. To be very honest Simon it's nice to have a man in the house for an hour or so as a bit of company. It can get quite lonely for us mothers left at home. My husband works such long hours and comes home late and exhausted, and both my children are away at boarding school. Even my best friend Penelope from over the road is too busy for me these days. I shouldn't tell you this but she's having an affair with a man she met at her work. I think it must be all the boredom. It's what can happen sometimes when a woman doesn't have a strong man to provide a strong hand'

Simon tried to busy himself with the loose cable he had found behind the panel. He'd had a very lively morning with Mrs Sinclair which had dulled his usual eagerness. Foolishly he had already admitted he didn't have any more calls this afternoon which he tried to cover up unconvincingly.

'I think I've almost finished here Mrs Mitchell, it was just a loose wire to the control board. I will have to be getting on, my van needs a service and I promised my grandmother a visit later'

Mrs Mitchell smiled as Simon got up from his knees and he could tell she was having nothing of his excuses as she took the screwdriver out of his hand and grabbed him by his belt and pulled him close for a nice warm soft cuddle. She pressed her generous cleavage into his firm chest and took in his strong working man scent that was now mixing exquisitely with her expensive French perfume.

As he started to respond instinctively to the warm soft body in his arms her fingers expertly unbuckled his belt and pulled it out from his jeans and then handed it to him with a knowing smile. Simon suddenly felt unsure about Mrs Mitchell's intentions and looked curiously into her eyes and then at the leather belt in his hands wondering if his dawning realisation was the same as her obedient impulse.

'I knew you were wearing that belt for a reason. You have done this before Simon, haven't you?' Mrs Mitchel asked coyly. Simon had certainly not done this before, assuming of course his instinct was right and she expecting him to belt her backside, but he lied convincingly.

'Yes, I do it all the time'

'Good', she said breathlessly with a noticeable tremble in her voice. 'Where do you want me?'

'Er well.... um, perhaps...' he said trying to remain a level head. 'Er, if you were to bend over the washing machine...'

'Oh yes!' she replied with a nervous shudder. 'Over the washing machine'

A host of images and ideas flashed up in Simon's mind. Was this just the curtain raiser for some of what Mrs Sinclair had wanted earlier, or perhaps if he thrashed her really hard that would be all she wanted, or did she think this is how she paid to have her washing machine fixed. That idea would deserve a thrashing by itself.

'Is this alright?' she politely requested. 'I'm ready'

Simon admired her shapely stocking clad legs that flared up to the well rounded bottom that was now bent right over the top of the washing machine

'Come on Simon. Do something' she begged in helpless anticipation.

He did do something. His hands eagerly grasped the hem of her skirt and pulled it purposefully up to reveal the delightfully sexy twin pale globes of her impatient arse, dressed in sheer black knickers and framed with matching lace suspenders. It begged the attention of his hands and she shivered in delight as he sunk both his large hands into her warm nates squeezing the flesh without mercy and then forcing the material of the knickers up between her cheeks before picking up the belt and subtly tapping it where his hands had just been fondling.

'Oh... ohhhh..' she sighed. 'Do it, Simon. Do it!!'

He did. He coiled back his arm and swung the folded leather belt hard across Mrs Mitchell's offered bum. The thwacking crack of leather against soft flesh caused her head to flick back in painful reaction which startled Simon and he wondered for a split second if he had belted her too strictly

'Oh!' she said. 'harder!'

He did it again. Harder as requested. A little disappointed at his apparent inexperience.

'OH!' she said again. 'Harder, Simon. Harder'

Simon lashed in an even harder belting swipe across both cheeks causing her bottom to writhe and contort as the sting from the belt rifled through her body and he smiled as he realised he liked thrashing Mrs Mitchel's arse very much and wanted to carry on punishing her like this. It appeared that Mrs Mitchell wanted the same.

'Time to get the knickers off, I think' Ordered Simon. 'But first the jacket'

'Yes Simon' Mrs Mitchell agreed instantly, knowing she would do as she was told

In a flash she had stood up, removed and folded the jacket and then inched the knickers down to mid thigh and then folded herself back over the washing machine. Meanwhile Simon savoured the delightful site of Mrs Mitchell's now pink striped bottom bobbing tantalisingly just in front of his insatiable eyes. He resumed his position behind her and confidently tapped her ankles so she would meekly move her feet apart, stretching the knickers taught at her thighs and giving him a much more interesting view from behind. The belt lashed down again, hard, across both cheeks with the loudest crack yet.

'OOOHHHHhhhhh....'

Mrs Mitchell's buttocks quivered as she gyrated wildly to repel the stinging ache from the belt that punished her while the loud painful reaction was expelled in a panting torment. Simon was breathing heavily from the physical exertion and the erotic enjoyment which made his cock stiffen deliciously. As delicious as the next swinging bite of the belt hard across her arse.

'AHHHhhhhh....'

Then twice more Simon whipped the belt cruelly across the quivering pink cheeks making Mrs Mitchell gasp in loud sobbing admissions of severe painful submission that she feared and craved in equal measure. But she needed more. Deserved more. Had to have more.

'Simon - the cupboard. Open the cupboard' Mrs Mitchell pleaded desperately.

He reached to open the tall cupboard door that she had pointed towards and was surprised to see an old fashioned crook handled cane hanging from a hook on the back of the door.

'Use it.' she pleaded. 'Use it!'

Simon reached out and retrieved the length of rattan holding it by the rounded crook and swishing it experimentally in the air. It seemed to have a power of its own, one that connected directly to Simon and sent a new wave of excitement down his arm and into his exhilarated mind. He lined the cane up straight across Mrs Mitchell's throbbing bottom then pulling right back brought it slicing down across her unprotected flanks.

'AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhh.............'

Mrs Mitchell writhed and moaned. This time it had really hurt. The cane had left a thin red line of biting agony. Simon had never felt such a strong energising surge of salacious energy flow through his tingling body as again he raised the cruel cane and whipped it down furiously across the rudely displayed bottom that was waiting in front of him. And again. Leaving no time for recovery and causing Mrs Mitchel to moan with a full-throated recoil of the third burning stripe that Simon had laid across her arse which now twisted and turned and clenched with a frenzy of painful regret.

'Oh Simon, you're so masterful!'

But as the words left her mouth, Simon had let another wicked crack of the cane explode against her sore and tender cheeks

'OOHHHHHHhhhhhh... ooohhh.......'

Mrs Mitchell clenched and jiggled her rear like mad as she felt another stripe of fire rip through every nerve ending from her thighs to her waist, throbbing through her with an exquisite painful ecstasy that only a woman punished like this could ever understand. This agonising vulnerability was also very arousing. A humiliating submission that she accepted even with the embarrassing contrition of her uncontrolled moans and very unladylike agitations.

'Now we'll have you bending over and touching your toes Mrs Mitchell. Yes, just like that, right over and get those feet apart. And keep still while I thrash you'

Mrs Mitchell complied without question, without modesty, without knowing if Simon could see just how wet her fluttering pussy was as a result of his strict well deserved chastisement.

Simon completed the comprehensive caning of Mrs Mitchell knowing that he had thoroughly disciplined her to his satisfaction and Mrs Mitchell was left physically euphoric and overflowing with praise for Simon. She readily paid him for fixing her washing machine and added in a sizeable bonus for "exceptional service". Mrs Mitchell did have one other problem though.

'It's the new dishwasher.' she explained. 'it seems to be playing up. You couldn't come back on Monday and have a look at it, could you Simon?'