Mother Love

as told by Adam Wingate

There were two great curiosities in my life at age 12, cigarette smoking and sex. Charley Hoodenpyle told me about girls and I didn't believe him, nor could I do anything about what he said. To yank down some girl's panties was beyond my scope. I just couldn't think in those terms, but stealing cigarettes from my father was another matter. He was casual about them and often had more than one pack open. I took such an occasion to snitch one that had three in it and immediately ran to find two friends, Charley and Walter Campbell.

Walter was as stupid as Charley was smart, but the three of us had lots of adventures and we had built a secret clubhouse in an empty lot. We managed to scrounge enough old wood, tin signs and stuff to make a pretty solid little hut. We dug down into the dirt to make places to sit using the original ground level like a bench and piled the dirt up on the outside to make the hut more solid. It was just great, and it was ours.

"I got one for each of us."

"No sharing?" asked Walter.

"Not today." I said proudly.

We lit up and told dirty jokes, and it soon became a contest to see who could say, "shit" the most often and creatively. The cigarettes just turned us on, as well as making us very dizzy. But, it was all over too soon.

"I better go home." said Walter.

"Chores?" asked Charley.

"Yeah, I have to mow the lawn." Walter answered and he crawled out the hole we had for a door. Charley and I sat there getting the last of the smoke from our "butts" and I felt dizzy.

"Drink some water and you'll be OK." said Charley with his usual great authority.

"Oh yeah!" he continued, "Take a couple of these and dissolve in your mouth to get rid of the tobacco smell." And he handed me two tiny "Sen-Sen" tablets he had shaken from a small envelope.

"Oh God!" I said, "They taste awful."

"You don't want to get into trouble do you?"

"Oh God no! My parents would kill me if they knew I had smoked a cigarette!"

"Or stolen them." Charley reminded me.

I just about peed right there. I hadn't really thought of it that way.

Charley and I lived opposite directions from the clubhouse so I walked home alone. When I got there I waited until I was sure my mother was in the kitchen as I could sneak in the front door and get upstairs without her seeing.

"Oh good." I said aloud as she was there putting dinner together.

I approached the house like a burglar, slipped open the door carefully and silently, tiptoeing up the stairs without a sound as she worked in the kitchen.

"Is that you?" she sang out.

"Yeah Mom." I replied wondering how she knew I had come in. I had not made a sound. Dad always said she had "radar" and now I could believe it.

"Is everything OK?"

"Oh yeah mom. I'm just going to go and read. Call me when dinner's ready."

"OK."

I really felt dizzy. The tobacco had hit me a lot harder than I had expected, but I was still glad we did it. I felt I had proved something to Charley, who was my hero, in stealing the cigarettes. My head was spinning, but I was not capable of thinking in terms of justice for my evil deeds.

"Dinner time." I heard come from below and my head was nearly clear. My father had come home and was listening to Gabriel Heater's "There's bad news tonight." show. My mother couldn't stand Heater and would carefully time dinner to cut into his newscasts. It was sort of a "running gun battle" between my parents.

"I seem to be missing a cigarette pack, son." My father announced as he passed the mashed potatoes. I managed to raise my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders in what I thought was a perfectly good performance, but I could see a beady-eyed wrinkle on my mother's brow. Nonetheless, dinner passed without another word about the missing "pack."

The next day at school Walter Campbell came running to me in a strange way.

"Oh man!" he yelled, "Did I ever get in trouble." Then he went on to tell me how he had thrown up when got home, his mother smelled the smoke on him and his breath. His dad had "taken the strap" to him. But, he assured me that he "...didn't tell."

When I saw Charley, he seemed very subdued and when I said, "Hi!" he only smiled and turned away. Something was wrong. I tried to talk to Charley during the day, but never seemed to have any time for me.

I didn't see Charley or Walter on the way home. We almost always walked together, but not on this day. I knew something was wrong, "...but what?" I could not connect the pieces. Maybe I was fooling myself, but when I got into the house and saw Mom sitting in her sewing room I knew something was wrong. She always went there when she was pissed off.

"Adam?" she said.

"Yeah, mom."

"Yes, mother" she corrected with enough ice in her voice to hard freeze a moose.

As I entered the sewing room, which was a small addition on the south side of the house, fully windowed and very bright, I saw that she was dressed as if going out, nice dress, stockings and high heels. She only did this when something important was up. She was sitting very primly with an embroidery hoop on her lap, legs crossed, right over left with her foot rocking pensively. But, resting on the end table was an old school paddle that normally hung from a nail in their bedroom. And, on it a single black leather glove. I thought I would pee my pants.

"We must talk." she announced as she continued to embroider.

"OK." I said as I sat down with a tightening knot in my stomach.

"Do you have anything to say to me?" she asked.

"Uh, no." I tried to be coy.

"Anything about cigarettes and smoking?" she said with a real chill in her voice.

Suddenly, I was really scared. There sat the paddle with a single glove on it and she was furious. And, she obviously knew we had been smoking.

"Did you talk to Walter's mother?"

"Yes, and Charlie's too, but I want to hear it from you."

"Uh, we were smoking in the clubhouse."

"And, from where did the cigarettes come?"

"Uh, I don't know..." I said nervously.

"You didn't steal them from your father?"

"Uh, maybe I did."

"Maybe?"

"Uh, yes I did."

This process continued, step-by-step while my mother drew out every little detail of my crime, a long list of my transgressions, which she made note of on a pad. When she finally had every last detail she looked at me, steely-eyed and said:

"What do you suppose your father will do when I tell him about this?"

"Oh God!" I exclaimed.

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain." she said loudly, and added another item to the list. Then she reached for the paddle and held it up.

"We both know that your father will give you a severe spanking with this."

"Yes mam." I replied in my most respectful tones.

"Do you know why?"

"Cause it was wrong?"

"That, but more importantly, we don't want a Wingate to do anything wrong again."

"Oh, I won't." I said hopefully.

"We must be sure. You do want to be sure, don't you?" she said, opening the trap.

"Oh yes, I'm sure."

"Good then we understand each other."

"Yes mam, we do."

"I am going to give you the spanking to put you back on the straight and narrow.  And, protect you from your father.  If I've done it he won't. Is that clear?"

I gulped. The paddle was looking more ominous every moment and I nearly swooned. In preparation she directed me to the bathroom where she had set up the enema bag and it was bulging with warm water.

"I fear you will lose control of your bowels, like they do in school, so let's clean them out and then you'll have nothing to lose."

"My God," I thought, "what is she planning?" but I sat after she inserted the pipe and soon I was gurgling full of a warm herbal preparation she had made. We waited for a few minutes and on instruction I pulled the tube and the water spurted out with great farting sounds. I wiped and she conducted me back to the sewing room where the paddle waited. Without a word she put on the glove, grabbed the paddle and said,

"Drop your pants, bend over and press your hands on the seat of that chair. Don't lift them until I tell you to."

She touched me with the paddle in an "aiming tap" and said, "Remember that Mother loves you." and I felt the paddle leave my butt, saw a flash of it behind me and it returned swiftly with a loud "WHAP!"

The noise frightened me more than anything. I felt nothing, but a wave of pressure in my butt. Just about the time I was thinking, "This ain't gonna be too bad." the stinging started coming and then the second swat landed, "SPLAT!" and I yelled. The pain was incredible. "How could she hit that hard?"

After three more swats I started screaming, "No more, please! Oh God. I can't take it!" and she quit!

"Mother please." I said as I straightened up. I had never felt such pain."

"You've got five more coming and your father will have to give them to you."

"Oh no, Mother. Please. You do it. Not Daddy."

"Bend over and take your punishment." she ordered and I did.

During the final five swats my vision dimmed, and my life passed before me. I experienced everything I had ever done wrong.  It was awful.  On the last "SPLAT!" I came out of darkness and the sun was glaring in the window.

"You can get up now." she said, and I did. Snot was running out of my nose, tears from my eyes and I was drooling. What little urine I had in my bladder was dripping and if I had any shit in my rectum it would have been on the floor. I had completely lost control of my functions. The pain in my butt was incredible: It stung like nothing I had ever felt and just throbbed with every heartbeat.

She put the paddle down, handed me a small towel and drew me to her saying, "Remember Mother loves you." holding me between her ample breasts and I knew that had I gotten it from my father it would have been far worse.

"Now just get yourself together, sit down and let's talk.

If you saw the scene afterward it would look like a mother and son talking while she embroidered. Occasionally, I would look at the paddle hardly believing how well I knew that thing, and its'sting.  Looking back, I appreciate her decorum and attention to detail, right down to the enema. She knew I would shit all over the place if she had not provided it. Ever the lady, looking like she were at a social function, nylons, heels and every hair in place, you'd never know she had delivered to me the most severe punishment I would ever receive.

"Thank you Mother. I really love you." I said after our hour of talk seemingly on small things, never mentioning my stinging, throbbing butt and how it got that way.  I could feel it for a week and even now, high heels mean authority.