Mrs. McConnal XXVII

Note From The Editor: The writer of this very nice story sent it to me and asked to remain anonymous. However, I have his e-mail address, so if you want to tell him what you think about his story you can email me ([email protected]) and I will make sure he gets your comments.

Chapter Twenty Seven: In Dire Need of Therapy

Thanksgiving approached, and along with it Gloria's 20th birthday. The thought of her over my knee with her luscious behind bared sent me into ecstasy more and more as the date approached. Of course I was aware that, with her being 20 and me being only 13, actually placing my hand on that beautiful bottom could be only that, a thought. But I could imagine to my heart's delight. And I did.

Dad would be home that weekend and that was going to be great. Mrs. Travis even promised to fix our Thanksgiving dinner (dinner comes at midday in the South) and leave it for us to heat up so that she could spend the weekend with her own family. Her children were all grown, and her husband had died when I was very little, but she still had brothers and sisters and nieces, nephews, and grown kids that all got together on holidays. That was a joy I couldn't even conceive of. I was glad for her.

Much to my pleasure Mrs. McConnal invited me to come to their place the day afterward to help celebrate Gloria's birthday. She said Gloria had specifically requested my presence, the thought of which made my heart leap. Even if she had no intention of letting me give her bottom her birthday licks, the knowledge that she specifically wanted me there made me feel special.

Pretty Lady and I coordinated on buying Gloria's birthday presents. I didn't want to get her something she already had or something her parents planned to get for her. I wanted to get her the latest Beatles album. I knew she'd like it but I didn't know if she already had it, even though it had just been released.

Mrs. McConnal said that Gloria usually understood not to get herself anything like that within a month of her birthday or Christmas, so since it was newer than that it was a safe bet she didn't already have it. I felt a little less nervous knowing I was safe in the present I got for her.

Mrs. McConnal probably saw the anxieties building up in me before I was aware of them myself. I must've been getting visibly agitated, to her at least. Lot's of people get anxious as the holiday season approaches. In my case it was compounded by my increasing fears that the Dianne and her parents would learn the 'truth' about me and that I'd never see her again. Making matters worse, my initial remedy to calm those fears was to start drinking, which needless to say did no long term good.

The fear that if I loved somebody I would therefore lose them was a pervading element in my emotional make up then. It took a long time for me to overcome that. So that once I allowed myself to care very much about Dianne, I had an immediate fear of losing her.

My fear that she would find out about my drinking and drug use only made me want to turn to those things more. And I knew her parents would never have their daughter going out with trash like me if they knew the truth.

The Wednesday afternoon that school let out for Thanksgiving Mrs. McConnal took my arm after class let out, saying only, "Stay."

When everyone else had left she asked, "Do you have plans for this afternoon? If not how about coming home with me? I'd like for us to spend a little time alone together. Has your dad come home yet."

"He's coming in tonight." I answered. "And, no I don't have plans." I knew what was coming and was relieved, "I'd love to come home with you, Pretty Lady. Thank you."

I had quit riding my bike to school when I started walking with Dianne, so there was no logistical problem with that. Also, by this time I so often spent nights at her house when Dad was gone that I had clothes there. She kept the guest room ready for me. I felt more and more like I was her's all the time, and it felt good, safe.

On the way home we talked about Thanksgiving, looking forward to seeing Gloria (who was also coming in tonight), how nice the weather was, small talk. Both of us knew it was just a way of avoiding a tense silence, since neither of wanted to start the conversation she had in mind until we were comfortably ensconced in her home.

When we got home she offered me Coke and cookies, which I appreciated but didn't want.

She sat down next to me on the couch in her living room, both of us snuggled down in the softness. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"OK." I lied.

"Now that that's behind us;" she said, "how are you feeling?"

I hung my head not knowing how to proceed. Finally I just blurted it out, "I don't want to lose her, Mrs. McConnal." I was choking up already, "I don't, I really don't. And I'm scared."

She slid closer to me. "Why should you lose her, darling?' she knew I meant Dianne.

"If she ever found out about me," I was crying and sniffling now, "she would never want to see me again."

"Jeremy!"

I cut her off before she could go on. "And her parents would never have her hanging around with trash like me if they knew."

"First off, Jeremy," she was hammering these words out, "you are NOT trash. You have never been trash. If your father and I have anything to do with it, you will NEVER be trash."

She reached for a book on her coffee table. It was the book I made for her last summer, my poem, my hand made book. I had never noticed that she kept it there for all to see. "Trash never gave me anything as beautiful as this." she said.

"Trash never wrote something as elegant as this. Trash never cared about someone enough to turn such a brilliant poem into a volume as lovely as this. And if I ever hear you calling yourself trash again . . . "

"Don't threaten me Mrs. McConnal, please." I was crying now. I reached out to her and she took me in her arms while I cried on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Jeremy." she said softly. "I won't threaten you. I'm sorry. But the idea of you thinking yourself trash is totally abhorrent to me. You're a class act, my darling, and you always will be."

Gasping for breath now between sobs I continued, "But if she ever finds out . . . if her parents ever find out . . . she'll never speak to me again. I know she won't."

"Finds out what, precious?" she honestly didn't know.

"About my drinking . . . and drugs . . . I get headaches, Mrs. McConnal, awful headaches. So I started taking pain killers, as many as it took." Sobbing, gasping, "And when the pain was gone I like being high. So I get higher. And when . . . when . . . when I get scared I drink and then I'm not scared any more. And she's going to find out and she'll never see me again."

I was bawling now. "And I don't think I can stand that."

I cried and cried on her shoulder for several minutes. She held me close, like a little child afraid of the dark. "Jeremy, don't you realize she already knows?"

"Oh, No!" I practically howled, like an animal suffering dying pains. "Then it's already over!" I was a basket case now, "No, Mrs. McConnal, no, no. I love her and she already hates me and I didn't even know it."

"Jeremy! Jeremy!" Mrs. McConnal was almost frantic now, too. "No! She doesn't hate you. She's always known, darling." She held me tight, stroking my head while I cried into her shoulder more, "Jeremy, your drinking and drug usage have been legendary around the school ever since that night last spring. Don't you understand that?"

"No." I sobbed.

"Goodness, child, you were wasted!" she said without a trace of anger. "Even I've never seen anyone as completely out of it as you were that night. Don't you remember I took you to the hospital?"

"Yes." still sobbing.

"Of course everyone there talked about it afterward. The whole school knows. Her classmates told her about you as soon as she mentioned you to them."

I lifted my head off her shoulder and looked at her questioningly.

"You always want to deny it, Jeremy, but your every move, your every statement is cause for talk around the school, among your teachers and fellow students alike. You live in a fishbowl, precious, and it must be tinted because you never seem to understand that."

I looked at her, puzzled, as if to ask, 'what are you talking about?'.

"Oh, darling, by now in your on-going legend you consume more liquor and drugs that any person could possibly survive." She laughed at this.

My response to this was, "If she knows, then she must think I'm scum."

"Has she ever acted like she thinks you're scum?" Mrs. McConnal asked pointedly.

"No." I whined.

"That's because she doesn't think you're scum." my surrogate mother reassured me. "If she did she would never be going out with you."

"But her parents . . . " I didn't have to finish.

"If her parents thought you were as bad as others say, then no, they probably wouldn't want to put her at risk. About that you are right." she was serious about this.

"But you've never been drunk or stoned around Dianne or her parents, have you?"

"I've been stoned, but I don't think they knew it." I answered.

"They probably didn't." was her deadpan reply. "You're pretty good at covering it up when you're stoned on marijuana. There's no hiding the fact, though when you've taken too many pills, or when you've been drinking."

Thinking out loud, she added, "Dianne may think she can get you to stop."

"But I don't want to stop." I said innocently.

That earned me a swat on the top of my head. It didn't hurt, but it sounded loud. I winced and ducked.

"I know you don't." she said exasperated. "And that's what bothers me the most. I don't want you killing yourself, Jeremy! Do you grasp that?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, "I'm careful now. I'm more careful now."

"You're not careful enough to stop, dammit." she said.

"Mrs. McConnal, Pretty Lady," I was appealing to my mother, my teacher, my mentor, my best friend, "I like getting high. I really do. I usually only go overboard when I get all funky inside and scared and depressed and confused, and then it sort of snowballs. But I do like getting high. And I know I always will."

"Oh, Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy," she cooed as she held me closely again, stroking my head and snuggling to me like a mother protective of her child, "you are going to have a fine line to walk all your days, darling. I know. You're either already hooked for life or already enchanted, whichever is the case. And I know you will try every drug that comes your way, no matter what it is. And there is no way it won't shorten your life, precious. With any other child your age I'd know you were too young to be making that decision. And I don't know that you're not too young now. But I know you've made that decision. I just hope and pray that you outlive me, and that when your end comes you will still think you made the right decision for you."

That did go over my head.

"But you are still in my charge," she went on, "and I will wear you butt out if I ever catch you putting your life at risk again."

"Yes ma'am." I said still resting my head on her shoulder.

Then she held me by both shoulders and forced me to look her in the eye. "How close are you to doing that now?"

"I won't." was the reply I had to make.

"Don't lie to me. How close?"

"Close." I said this straight forward, then immediately realized what I had said. Oh, no. "You're not going to spank me, are you?" I asked. I knew she was.

"I thought you needed some 'therapy' when I stopped you at school." she said.

Before she could continue I said, "But I'm OK now."

"You're about to go off the deep end again, Jeremy." she said knowingly. She was right. "I'm not going to spank you like I would if you had gone off the deep end without coming to me first. I hope I'm going to give you the release you need to keep you from starting one of your binges."

I hung my head again. I knew that I didn't have to ask if we had to. We did have to. I knew I was on the verge of going home tonight and drinking myself into a stupor, then taking plenty of pills, and . . . who knows the result.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" I asked sheepishly.

"No, darling, I'm not mad at you." she said soothingly. "I'm proud of you for being open with me before you let yourself get out of hand."

"You're just saying that, right? To make me feel better about getting spanked?"

"No, Jeremy, I'm telling you the God's truth." she assured me.

I felt like I should say something, acknowledging that I was in her command from this point on. After hanging my head and taking a few deep breaths I finally said, "OK. Where? How?"

"Where would you like it?" she asked gently, knowing that any spanking was a traumatic event for me.

"Can we do it in my room?" I asked. I had come to think of her guest room as 'my' room.

"Of course." she said kindly.

As we walked slowly back to my room I asked, "You're not going to use your hairbrush, are you?"

"I'll let you decide." she said. This surprised me. "Do you think you need the hairbrush?"

I hesitated. We were in my room. The bed, the covers, everything that I felt so safe within. Including her. "I don't know, Mrs. McConnal. Not like last time."

That was my answer. I did feel like I needed the hairbrush.

"No, darling," she said, "not like last time. Will you wait here just a moment, please?" she asked affectionately.

"Sure." I told her.

She wasn't gone long. I didn't want her to be. I didn't want to be left alone right then. It may seem strange that a boy about to be spanked didn't want to be left alone by the lady about to spank him. But I felt terribly alone right then, and vulnerable. And I wanted her to protect me, even while she was spanking me.

She returned with her hairbrush, pulled the sturdy chair into the middle of the room, and took me by the hand and led me to it while she sat down.

I stood next to her, still holding her hand, while she said softly, "Pull your pants down."

I whined a little at her instructions, "Do we have to?"

"Yes, dear, Pull your pants down."

Before I did I had to confirm again, "You're not mad at me, are you, Mrs. McConnal?"

"No, darling," she reiterated, "I'm not mad at you. But for your own sake, we do need to do this. You do understand that?"

I nodded. I did.

I unbuckled my belt and opened my trousers, letting them drop to the floor. Only then did it occur to me that I was not hard. I hadn't been hard throughout this whole conversation, even though I knew where we were going from the time we left school.

Taking a deep breath I pulled my underpants down to my knees. Then I hiked up my shirt so that nothing could interfere with her spanking my behind. Even though I was standing bare before her, my limp dick hanging for her to see if she let her eyes drop to it (which she was too much of a lady to do), I was in no particular hurry to go over her knees.

I took another deep breath and eased myself across her lap. She helped me get positioned just right while she held me firmly but gently.

The feeling of being naked across her bare lap was as good as it ever was, but still I wasn't getting an erection. I was glad of that. Strangely I was also glad to be bare across her lap again. It was like I never felt safer in my life. My fears were gone whenever I was that much in her charge.

"Jeremy," she said before beginning, "we both know this is going to hurt. And you know I do not enjoy hurting you. But you also know why we're doing this, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." I said. "I know I'll be better when we're done. And, Mrs. McConnal . . . "

"Yes?"

"Thank you for loving me this much." I said beginning to choke up again.

"Oh, Jeremy," she said, "you make it so hard to spank you, child."

"And Mrs. McConnal, one more thing before you start? Please remember that I love you." I was about to cry when I said this.

"I will, darling." she said sweetly. "And please remember that I love you, too."

"I will." I promised.

She softly laid the hairbrush in the triangle where my butt and my legs join. I knew this was going to hurt. Only then did I finally start to get hard. My dick pressed against her thighs, it would seem, should have been enough to generate a hard on, but I had managed to keep myself soft up until now. When she combined that with letting her hairbrush tell me where she was going to spank me first, right in the most private part of my ass that couldn't be reached except in a position as intimate as this, then my young dick sprang t life. Oh please Mrs. McConnal spank me now before I get a full grown erection.

She did. WHAP! "Owww."

Steadily they came. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"Owwwww, Mrs. McConnal, it hurts!"

"I know it does, darling." she said, still sweetly, as if she wished she didn't have to do this.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

She was working all over my bare behind. With special attention to that tender triangle. I was crying uncontrollably now. But I wasn't trying to control myself now, anyway.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

My entire butt was on fire. She was covering both ass cheeks, both thighs, inside my crack, and continued to pay special attention to my triangle. I was ready for her to stop.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"Please stop, Mrs. McConnal! OOOwwwww! Please stop! That's enough! Please!"

"No it's not enough, yet, Jeremy." she said without missing a lick. "You'll tell me when it's enough."

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"That's ENOUGH, Mrs. McConnal! Please! Stop!" That was the last coherent thing I said.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

She never let up with either the force of her licks nor the rhythm. She just kept up her steady barrage. Landing perfectly aimed blows all over my poor behind. I must have looked terribly foolish at that moment, but how foolish I looked was the furthest thing from my mind.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I finally collapsed into a pile of rags and fanny on her lap, sobbing heartily.

She kept it up for a while longer. This was the part that, I now knew, was doing me the most benefit.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

My butt felt tremendous, every nerve cell in it screaming in pain. I just lay across my beautiful lady's lap crying, and crying and crying.

I hadn't the slightest bit of animosity toward her for what she had done. I loved her all the more for taking me in so closely that she would do this for me.

When I realized that she was no longer spanking me I still didn't want to get up. As much as my fanny was on fire, I had no urgent desire to do the spank dance and grab my butt and squall.

I wanted only for her to hold me.

Still sobbing and gasping I reached to her. She got up and pulled me to the bed where I could sit on something soft beside her. She took me in her arms and I took her in mine, still bawling, and she rocked me on that bed for as long as I wanted it.

I didn't think of my pants still being down. I didn't think of being embarrassed would a classmate see us. No one would see us. I could be all the little child I wanted to, safe in a mother's arms.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. McConnal." I sobbed.

"What for, darling?" was her response.

"For being a burden on you." I said. "You didn't have to make me yours." I gasped. " I love you so much."

"And I love you, Jeremy." she said so tenderly. "I wouldn't have missed having you in my life for anything in the world."

I don't know how long we sat there. I didn't want to move. I would have been content to sit there with her, with my pants around my ankles, looking as silly as I could possibly look, for an eternity had it been possible. Being in her arms, knowing she loved me, knowing how much I could trust her, was the most comforting thing I could imagine. In fact I would rather she spend days on end working on my bare behind with her hairbrush than for her to have never loved me enough to spank me at all. I felt safer being spanked by her than I did intimidating others.

There was no woman I loved more than I did Mrs. McConnal. And there was no woman who loved me more than she did.
 

The End