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, 12-year-old Cynthia, often thought, this small town crap was just boring. Besides, if you got in trouble, everybody knew it, and you'd keep running into people you just hated. Not that Cynthia was getting in 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-foot-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! This 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 are getting a long overdue spanking, missy," she said, pulling out a hairbrush from her purse. "But I didn't do anything!!! Noooooo!!!! MMMMnnnggg!! Nooo, Mommy, 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 Mom started in. WHAP WHAP SMACK!!! "There, you little brat!" SMACK WWWHAAPP POP WHACK!!! "You are going to behave in public from now on, young lady!" "Aaaaahhhh!!! Noooo!!!! EEENNNGGGG!!!," Cindy screamed through clenched teeth. "Owwwwwww!!! OUCH! Stopitmommystopit!" Mom kept it up, implanting cylindrical red splotches across Cindy's tender bottom. WHAP SPANK SMACK WHACK CRACK!!! 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!" WHACK WHACK SMACCKKK!!!" 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. WHAP SMACK SMACK SMACK WHACK CRACK WHACK WHACK. 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 WHACK WHACK CRACK CRACK. 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 battleaxe, 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-patterened dress, shushed Louise. "I think we ought 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-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 wan't 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. SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK!!! "You were a naughty girl at my school" SMACK SPANK SPANK and you should have been paddled before this." "Waaaahaaaaa Waaaahhhaaaa nnnnnggggwaaaa ooooooooo owwwwwww!!!" 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 girls legs apart. Now the 12-year-olds 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 SMMACCKK 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 clawlike pinch to the brat's already mortified flesh. WWWHAACCKKK, she spanked on the left cheek, again digging in her nails. Cynthia was a mess, crying hard, her nose running, her chest heaving and her cute little backside trying unsuccessfully to clench against the the force of the beating. SMACK SPANK SPANK WHACK CRACK, 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!