Several years ago, Caroline and her pre-teen daughters, Gwen and Erin, moved in next door. We chatted fairly often when we were working in our yards, getting the mail or walking our dogs. Nothing socially very serious but from those interactions, Caroline seemed like a really nice friendly woman. I figured her daughters might have a different point of view since I had strong evidence she was a strict, no-nonsense mother. On several occasions over the years, when weather was conducive to having windows open, I could hear Caroline’s raised voice, scolding one or both of the girls about their misbehavior. That component was usually fairly brief and followed by the voice of protesting girls, followed by the unmistakable sound of a spanking. To my ear, something wooden was being applied to bare ass cheeks. The protests would turn to wails and sobbing but the smacks of the punishment would continue. I almost made a hobby of timing how long Caroline would spank and by the time the girls were in high school, durations often were nearing three minutes. Things briefly quieted down when the younger girl, Erin, headed to college. Coincidentally, not long after that, Caroline had a line of worn-out old cypress trees removed from her side of the property line.

The next fall, Erin did not return to college. Caroline confided that the young woman had not adjusted to college academics and would be taking a few junior college classes and working until she had more clarity on future direction. Shortly after learning that news, I discovered that for the now nineteen year-old girl was not too old for corporal punishment. When not traveling for work, I worked mostly from home and had converted a spare room upstairs into a very functional office. The afternoons were growing shorter and it was approaching dark as I wound down for the day. I happened to look over at the house next door and noticed Erin pacing around the room. Before this, the trees had effectively blocked the view but now I could easily spy her curtains were wide open.

A few moments later, Caroline entered the room. I could hear the scolding about not registering for classes, not getting a job and generally loafing away the day. I suspected that some of those many spankings I had then only heard had occurred right in that room. I watched with rapt interest as Caroline sat on the bed and beckoned Erin to her right side. She quickly unfastened her daughter’s jeans and in a blink the pants and panties were down and the girl’s very shapely bottom was bare. Almost as quickly, Erin was pulled over her mom’s knee as Caroline began to whack her bare bottom with a wooden hairbrush. I took great consolation in having audibly identified bare bottoms being spanked with something wooden. I extracted a monocular from my travel bag and now had a close-up view of Erin’s bare tush being thoroughly and most intensely spanked. I vacillated between feeling sorry for the girl and envious of her. Caroline was indeed a skillful and enthusiastic spanker and I grew harder by the moment. Eventually, Caroline let the girl free and Erin danced around the room, clearly bawling as she tried to rub out the sting from her bright red and, I assumed, a fiery hot bottom.

That weekend, I was puttering in my workshop in my detached two-car garage. One side was dedicated to my tools and projects. I had moved the car out for extra space. There was a soft knock at the open door and Caroline poked her head inside. “Hi,” she began, “I know you do some woodworking and hoped you might do me a favor.” I paused and must have had an expectant or puzzled look. “Not a favor, actually,” she added, “I will gladly pay for materials and your time.”

“I’d be happy to help,” I answered, “Whaddya need?”

“As you know, Erin moved back and she’s giving me fits,” Caroline replied. “My hairbrush just isn’t doing the job and I hoped you’d make me a paddle.”

“I have a hard time believing you wielding a hairbrush wouldn’t get her attention,” I teased. “Perhaps, you just need practice.”

“Oh, I’ve had plenty of practice lately,” Caroline admitted, clearly unaware that I had witnessed the recent session. “Perhaps you need a demonstration,” she added flirtatiously.

“Let’s talk about your paddle needs first,” I suggested, hoping to not give away that I had seen her heating Erin’s backside. I then added, “Maybe after that you can go get your brush and give me a warm-up but only if I get to reciprocate.”

Caroline blushed but then unfolded a page of paper. On it was a sketch of a paddle complete with dimensions. “I saw something like this on Etsy,” she explained.

“I might have something almost perfect for that,” I replied and began to sort through a small stack of hardwood scraps. I pulled out a piece of half-inch thick oak left over from another project. I grabbed a tape measure and looked at her sketch. The piece was a half inch wider than her design’s three and one-half inches and eighteen inches long versus the sixteen inches on her sketch. “This could work,” I confirmed and added,“Turn around and bend over.”

“What?” she asked. I made a rotation with my finger. She grasped my intent and turned around and presented her lovely bottom for me. I gave her three light whacks.

“That’ll definitely work,” I concluded. “Should I trim it to your dimensions?”

“Naw,” Caroline replied. “Just give it a hand grip and the holes.” Her design had a grid of holes bored into the contact zone. “That kinda stung and those were light taps and over my jeans.” I took the comment to infer she would be swinging a good bit harder and against Erin’s bare cheeks. “How much do you think it will cost,” she asked.

“How about we barter,” I suggested. Now she looked puzzled. “The material is free so it’s just my time. You take, say, five swats when I’m done and we’ll call it even.”

“On the bare?” she asked.

“Is there any other way?” I countered.

She smiled and recognized the bulge in my pants that the discussion had caused. “I’m gonna go get my brush and see if I can tame your raging boner,” she teased. I set the oak plank on my workbench and laid-out the curve of the handle with a circle template and pencil. I had finished arranging the gird of holes when she returned. “Here or inside?” she asked. I smiled and led her into the house. She looked around and saw a layout very similar to her house, then led me to the master bedroom. She sat on the bed and quickly had my pants and boxers around my knees. She guided me over her lap and commenced a brisk spanking. After about a minute, she paused and asked, “How’s that?”

“That would certainly change my behavior,” I replied. “Ready for yours?” She let me stand and then pushed me to sit on the bed, my pants now bunched around my ankles. She sensuously lowered her own pants and panties, then draped herself over my lap. I spent another minute heating her gorgeous, round bottom, leaving it very warm and nicely pink.

A couple of days later, the paddle was finished and I texted Caroline, ‘It’s done,’ adding a photo.

‘I’ll be right over,’ she replied. She arrived in the shop a few minutes later, inspected the paddle and pronounced, “Exactly what I wanted,” then asked, “Five?” I nodded and she turned, lowered her yoga pants and bent forward with her hands on her knees. I slowly gave her lovely ass five well-spaced fairly solid swats. She groaned and rocked forward on her toes with each impact.The volley left an emerging bullseye bruise on each cheek, the right a bit more pronounced. She turned and accepted the paddle, gave me a kiss and whispered, “Thank you,” in my ear. I desperately wanted her to show additional appreciation - perhaps in the realm of naked, horizontal exercise but she walked away, her well spanked ass nicely swaying to and fro.

It took about a week until I witnessed the product of my workshop used in anger. It seemed that late afternoon when Caroline arrived home from work was the time when unfinished tasks were noted and the decision made to react with a punishment. I sat in my dim office and watched a debate between mother and daughter, until daughter conceded. She turned to face her bed, lowered her sweatpants and bent over with her forearms resting on the bed. Caroline quickly delivered five rather tentative swats that I figured would be insufficient to adjust Erins behavior.

The next day, I was at the grocery store and rounded a corner to find Erin shopping in the household good aisle. “So, you’re responsible for giving my mom her new paddle,” she said in a snide greeting.

“Has she used it on you yet,” I replied, not letting on that I indeed knew it had been applied to Erin’s bare bottom but, in my opinion, far too timidly. “I’m thinking not as you still have a sour attitude.”

“Yeah, she whacked my butt with it last night,” Erin admitted. She looked around - we were alone in the aisle. She turned away from and quickly pulled down her stretch pants, exposing a thong framed tush for just a few seconds. Her cheeks were only slightly pink.

“From the looks of things, she went pretty easy on you. Had it been my prerogative, your butt would be quite colorful and sitting down would be most uncomfortable,” I noted. I stopped short of adding, ‘Just like I demonstrated on your mom’s bare tushie’.

“Maybe I need to come by later and you can show me how it’s supposed to be used,” she replied. I wasn’t quite sure she was kidding or serious. She winked and then walked away, giving me a view of an ass that was, like her mother’s, was very shapely and begging to be spanked.

I had been home a few hours and making good progress on a report when there was a knock at the back door. I ventured downstairs, a bit puzzled as deliveries and such always came to the front door and rang the bell. I opened the door to find Erin standing there with the paddle. She sashayed into my kitchen and disappeared down the hallway. I followed her to my bedroom where she turned and handed me the paddle. “Five of your best?” she said, with an inflection that sounded like a question.

“Ok,” I agreed.

She turned to face the bed and adopted the posture I had seen when paddle by her mom. “Oh, and after that, I want you to fuck me and cum on my ass.”