A word of warning. I strongly advise all readers to read the previous two chapters of this story first otherwise you will be totally lost and confused. You will not find detailed accounts of earth-shattering orgasms so those of you who seek only that should look elsewhere. I am uncertain at the moment whether this is merely a continuation or is in itself the conclusion to the story but thank you for staying with me so far.
*****
I lay there insensible for what must have been ages before I slowly started to come back to life. For a long while I didn't even dare to open my eyes. I just had vague memories of the afternoon. I could still feel a distant stinging on my bottom that was more than outweighed by the wet glow between my legs. I realised I was naked. Slowly I orientated myself. I was kneeling but my head rested on a soft cushion that felt damp under my cheek. I risked opening my eyes briefly. All I could see was the interior of an armchair. Little by little my sensations stretched. Something, I knew not what, was pressing down on the backs of my legs. I tried to move and whatever it was moaned and slipped off to one side. Somehow I found the strength to pull myself up and flopped into the chair. For several minutes I simply slumped there breathing heavily, my eyes now safely closed again, trying to recall what had happened. Tiny snippets came back to me and I frantically tried to edit them into some sort of sense.
It had been my mum and me for the last five years ever since she and my dad split up. I'm not entirely sure why they split, I was only 13 when it happened and kept more or less in the dark about it. For the next few years we moved from one dreadful home to another and I was made to go to one dreadful school after another. Eventually mum got a decent job and we moved here about two years ago and had finally stayed put. A nice area with the added bonus of a mysterious but attractive woman living next door that I came to know as Christine. Since I first set eyes on her I admit I'd had more than a bit of a crush on her. An image of her wandering round her garden topless flashed into my mind and my eyes opened suddenly with shock as more recent memories came flooding back. "Oh fuck" I thought to myself. I remember coming home to an empty house and with no key to get in. Going next door as a last resort and having the door opened by...
I sat there for a long time re-living that moment. I'd seen her before topless and had lusted after her in my innocent adolescent way but what I saw in front of me changed everything. She had on the most outrageous outfit I had ever seen, I could almost describe it as a Halloween costume. For a start her breasts were bare yet again, peeking over the top of a tightly laced corset. Unable to stop myself I looked her up and down. She wore the tiniest of thongs. Her legs were encased in black stockings and shoes with the highest heels I had ever come across. I was tongue-tied at the very least. Somehow I found myself inside her house and ushered into the lounge. She seemed completely unembarrassed by her outfit and I found it difficult to look away. Indeed she seemed to delight at my awkwardness. I remember a glass of wine being placed in my hand and then she left the room. She said something about a 'friend' which I didn't understand. I took two or three large gulps of wine to calm myself.
When she came back she re-filled my glass and sat next to me, so close she was touching. I was already feeling a little light-headed from the wine. I remember she spoke softly with soothing words although what she said I had forgotten. Her hand was on my legs gently stroking me which I found curiously soothing. She spoke again of her friend and then her face lit up as though an idea had suddenly occurred to her. Would I like to meet her friend? Without waiting for a reply she stood up and twisted a finger in my hair and somehow persuaded me to my feet. I was a little unsteady from the wine but I seemed to have no choice but to follow her. I know that most girls of eighteen are out partying and drinking every weekend but that seemed to have passed me by. I had had the occasional glass of wine with a meal but two in quick succession was to say the least very unusual. She led me deeper into her house to a black-painted door. I felt helpless under her gaze. She opened the door and coaxed rather than pushed me inside. The lighting was dim and my eyes took time to adjust. My eyes opened in shock as I slowly worked out what I was looking at. In the middle of the room was a bed. Spread wide upon it was the body of a naked woman, her wrists and ankles fastened to the four corners with wide black leather cuffs. Her mouth was bright red and the rest of her face was a mess of tears and streaked make- up. I was about to turn to Christine when her eyes opened. Suddenly I recognised who she was at the same time as she saw me. My mother!
++++++++++++++++++++++
Charlotte and I had had a tough few years. I felt guilty about it but there was little I could do. I had split with my ex after I'd caught him cheating and yet somehow I'd been the one to be thrown out of the family home. Almost the only thing I kept from our failed relationship was Charlotte. For a while we moved from one dismal flat to another as I struggled to make ends meet. Finally I had managed to get a decent job and then a promotion and we had moved to our present home. A nice neighbourhood and finally a good school for Charlotte. Our new neighbour, a woman called Christine, was very friendly if a little outgoing. She was a little younger than me, mid-thirties I would guess, and very lovely. Several times I had seen her wandering around her back garden with no top on which was something of a shock. It didn't seem to worry her though as she was quite happy to stand and chat over the fence whatever her state of undress. Slowly I grew to like her and on days off while Charlotte was in school we would often get together for coffee or the occasional glass of wine. It seems to me now that I was becoming more and more under her spell.
She was very touchy-feely, something I wasn't used to and which initially made me feel uncomfortable but slowly I became used to her fingers trailing along my arm or her hand on my knee. There seemed to be something caring about the way she'd brush the hair away from my face. I began to loosen up when I was with her. I opened up and began to tell her of my time with my ex, how hard it had been to be betrayed and to be virtually ignored in the bedroom. On one occasion I had broken down into tears and she quickly moved to come and sit next to me on her sofa and put her arm round me and simply held me. At the time it was just a very kind act.
She also had a darker side as I slowly found out. To begin with it was simply playful. One time I was bending down to pick up something from the floor when she smacked my bottom really hard. The sound alone would have made me jump but the force of her blow nearly knocked me over. After that came the lingering sting. I straightened up and turned round ready to tell her off but she was grinning from ear to ear. She said she was sorry but couldn't resist the temptation. She also complimented me on the prettiness of my bottom. I couldn't help but smile back and forgive her. That was the first but not the last time I felt the force of her hand. The strange thing was I started to enjoy it. No one had paid me any attention for years until now. I was puzzled at myself when I started to look forward to those moments. So much so that I tried to figure out ways to provoke them. I think she guessed my intentions and was happy to help me play them out. Often it wouldn't be a single smack but three or four and followed by a gentle stroke.
One day she took matters to the next level. I can't remember exactly how but I'd said or done something which she took to be personally rude. I was told off about it quite forcefully but simply stood there dumbly and took it.
"I think that deserves a good spanking, Gwen."
"But ... ," I started to interrupt.
"Are you arguing with me?"
I hung my head in shame knowing that I had done wrong despite not knowing what it had been.
"No, Christine," I mumbled.
"Come and lie across my knee at once."
Her voice had taken on a harsh tone that demanded obedience. We were in the kitchen of her home and she was sat on an upright kitchen chair. She patted her thighs and looked at me. I shuffled across the kitchen and, bending forward, lay myself across her. I felt one hand on the small of my back and the other on my bottom. The situation felt strangely pleasing. Her hand came down four times and not gently. After just those four my bottom stung. I raised my head to protest.
"Please," I muttered, "I'm sorry."
"I haven't finished with you yet," she replied and pushed my head back down.
What happened next took me by surprise. Her hands moved and gripped the hem of my skirt and pulled it up to my waist. I hadn't thought about what underwear to put on when I'd dressed that morning, at least not consciously. They weren't quite a thong but they were high-cut and covered very little of me. I was very aware that I was now presenting her with my nearly naked bottom. The previous four smacks had stung quite badly but they were nothing to compare with what came next. It seemed to go on forever and at one point I think I cried out for her to stop, a cry she chose to ignore. Eventually of course she did stop and stroked my bruised and battered bottom. I must admit the feeling of her hand on my ultra-sensitive skin felt really good. Suddenly her finger slipped between my legs and she started to stroke my pussy. I was shocked to say the least and tried to get off her but her other hand held me firmly.
"Oh my, Gwen, it seems you have enjoyed that," she said in a mocking voice.
I hung my head in shame. She had found out the secret that I had hoped to keep hidden from her. She pushed me off her knees and I fell to the floor at her feet.
"You had better go home and quickly play with yourself before Charlotte gets home from school."
