Laura

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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Laura

(***, F/f, Serious, nc little girl discipline)

Written for Laura Werner, this is more about love than spanking. (Approximately 2,784 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

*** Author's Note ***

*A Message To Laura Werner From The Author*
Laura, your "Losing Interest" post took my breath away. I was deeply moved and wanted to share something meaningful with you. I know life is often rocky and mysterious, and it affects us in ways we cannot explain. It changes us; we grow without intending too. Once grown, we cannot go back. We are forever altered, forever searching for that which we cannot have.

Unique to this newsgroup, our "kink" unites us in intimate ways "vanilla" folks can't begin to imagine. We have our own telepathy, our own language. I've never met you, and though your experiences are vastly different than mine, your cries fall on a communal soul. I can't begin to describe what this newsgroup means to me. I, too, "lost interest" for a time, and I can't really explain why. It bewildered me, knowing how important the group and my writing was to me. I understand where you are coming from.

But know that we -- the newsgroup -- are always here, regardless of what happens in your life. Even if the Internet was shut down tomorrow, the people of the newsgroup would still exist. I would write stories for myself, comfortable in the knowledge that people like me exist out there, somewhere. There is solace in knowing that this family is always here, no matter what.

I wrote this story for you, Laura. I don't know if it's what you are looking for (you don't have to like it ;-), but I wanted to express something of what your post meant to me. It's not the least bit erotic, but hopefully that makes it all the more special.

(For those who missed Laura's original post, I've attached it to the end of this story. I hope Laura doesn't mind.)

Cheers,

Frank
The Flogmaster
***

The door opened and without looking up from her intense study of the floor tile, Laura knew it was her mother. Her cheeks burned with shame as the familiar high heels marched toward her. They paused in front of her and a hand reached out. Trembling with apprehension, Laura stood and took her Mom's hand. She didn't want to be led out of school by her mother, like a little girl, but considering the situation, Laura was wise enough to not complain. She said nothing and kept her eyes firmly toward the floor during the long walk from the administrative offices to the parking lot.

Laura got into the car silently, and didn't speak during the drive home. At each traffic light and stop sign -- there were a total of eight -- Laura could feel her mother's eyes burning into her. It made her shiver inside and feel very small. She kept waiting for the explosion, but it did not come.

At home, Mrs. Trent parked the car in the driveway and got out. Laura slowly followed, every step a heartbeat closer to doom. Inside, Laura went straight to her room without being told. She sat on the bed and waited. Down the hall, her mother was changing clothes. In a few minutes she'd open the top drawer of her dresser and take out the dreaded wooden hairbrush. Then she'd march to Laura's room and knock. She always knocked. It would be up to Laura to invite her mother in. It would up to Laura to welcome in that angry woman with that appalling hairbrush of pain.

The petite girl was so lost in her dismal thoughts that she didn't even hear the knock at first. It was a gentle tap-tap. Laura gulped. The rock in her belly was huge. Her throat was so dry she couldn't speak. She tried to swallow and discovered she couldn't.

Tap-tap.

Tears came into Laura's eyes. Her whole body trembled. Oh God, she hated feeling so miserable. She wished so badly that it was all over, that she could hug her Mommy and be friends again.

"C-c-c... c-come i-in," she choked.

The door slowly opened. Mrs. Trent was there. Her dress had been exchanged for jeans and a sweater, and in her right hand was a huge black hairbrush. Laura began to cry.

Mrs. Trent closed the door behind her. She sat on the bed and took her little girl in her arms, hugging and holding her tightly. "Shhhhh," she whispered. "Everything's okay. Mommy loves, you know that. Mommy loves you very much."

"I-I'm sorry, Mommy!" cried Laura. "I'm really, _really_ sorry."

"I know, dear. I know."

"Please don't be mad. I didn't mean to do it. I don't know what came over me."

Mrs. Trent smiled gently at her daughter. "You aren't usually a violent girl. Why on earth would you slap Cynthia Redrock?"

"I don't know, I don't know."

"Come on, dear. Tell Mommy what happened."

Laura sniffled a few times and then began. "Cynthia doesn't like me, Mommy. She never has. She's always been mean to me."

"What happened today?"

"She... she said I'm a cow."

"That's no reason to hit her."

"I know, Mommy. But she said--" Laura broke off and began to weep.

"Shhhhhh. It's okay, dear. You're safe here. Tell Mommy what she said."

Laura wiped her eyes and stared at the floor. "She said I look like a cow. She said I'm fat like a cow. She said nobody likes me because I'm a cow. She said nobody will ever play with me again and that boys will never like me because I'm a cow and I'll grow up to be an old maid, never getting married and having kids or anything!"

It had taken a monumental effort for Laura to divulge her secret, and now she began to cry in earnest, her sobs from deep inside. Her mother hugged her tightly, whispering that everything would be fine. For several minutes Laura cried, and then she felt much better. There was still the hairbrush, however, and she felt awkward hugging the woman who was about to cause her unbearable anguish. She pulled away.

Mrs. Trent smiled at her daughter. She reached out and smoothed down Laura's hair. "You are a very beautiful girl," she whispered. "You remind me so much of me when I was you're age."

Laura sniffed and glanced up at her mother in surprise. The woman's head was tilted back and her eyes were nearly shut as she reflected.

"Oh, they called me fat, too. I was a pig, not a cow, but it was the same thing. It was even the same for your Grandmother. We Davenport's are a stout lot. The babies are always plump on our side of the family. It takes us time to grow into our bodies. Don't worry, dear. You'll see -- in a few years you'll be a beautiful teenage girl and the boys will be milling around you like bees around flowers."

Laura didn't say anything, but looked at the carpet in shame. How could her mother talk so casually like that about being... fat. Ugh. It was such an awful word, so full of spite and ugliness. Laura wanted to just crawl into bed and never get out again. She couldn't stand to let anyone see her or even see herself.

"Laura?"

"Yes?"

Mrs. Trent's eyes were large and serious. "It was wrong for you to slap Cynthia, you know."

"I know, Mommy. I'm really sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you something to think about...."

Panic struck the little girl. Her face went white with terror. "Oh, no, Mommy, please! I'll be good, I promise. I'll never hit anyone ever again! I promise!"

"You say that now, dear, but tomorrow is another day. You must learn to think. Not everyone is going to like you, or be nice to you. Some people are going to be downright mean. But you don't have to be like them. You are an intelligent, beautiful girl -- and intelligent, beautiful girls do not slap people who insult them!"

Laura's tears began again. She looked around frantically, praying, hoping against hope that something would save her. At first her mother had been so nice she'd thought that maybe... but in her heart of hearts she knew there was no escape. In a few scant moments she'd be over her mother's lap and getting all the naughtiness whacked out of her. The image made Laura tremble.

"Please, Mommy," she begged, sliding to the floor on her knees. "Please don't spank me. I'm sorry, really sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, really, really, *really* sorry!"

"Shhhhhhh," whispered Mrs. Trent. She patted her lap. "Come on, across my lap."

Still begging, Laura found herself standing and lying across her mother's lap. It was such a bizarre position. She hated it so much. She felt so helpless and out of control. All she could think about was how much she wanted to get up. It was so unfair. Laura knew she had been naughty but she was sorry and she knew she'd never, ever do such a thing again. Why couldn't Mommy give her a break, just this once? Adults had too much power.

Mrs. Trent's voice was soft and soothing, chatting quietly as she folded up Laura's little skirt. Laura whimpered as the white panties were pulled down to mid-thigh. "Quiet now. Everything's okay," said Mrs. Trent. "You've been a naughty girl and you're going to have to take your medicine. That's the way it is in this world. Now I'm going to spank you with this hairbrush, and yes, it's going to hurt, but you know I'm only doing this because I love you so much I can't bear to see you get hurt, I mean _really_ hurt, later on in life."

"Please, Mommy--"

"Not another word, young lady!" said Laura's mother in a stern voice. She followed her command with a hefty swing of her big hairbrush and as the wooden implement smashed into the meaty flesh of Laura's backside the girl gave a shriek of legitimate terror. Pain flooded her bottom, coursing through the chubby cheeks. Laura gasped and howled. The brush rose and fell like a metronome. Laura sobbed and kicked and pleaded for mercy at the top of her lungs, but Mrs. Trent was determined. She gave her daughter a full spanking, continuing until Laura's bottom was crimson all over, and the girl had run out of tears and lay convulsing with mammoth dry heaves.

"There, there," said Mrs. Trent, gathering Laura in her arms. She tossed the hairbrush aside and hugged her daughter. Laura hugged her back, clinging to her with the desperation of the mindless. She sobbed and sobbed, moaning and weeping. Mrs. Trent let the girl cry, patting her back and rocking her back and forth.

Eventually Laura was reduced to dry sniffles, and Mrs. Trent kissed her on the face several times. "My dear Laura," she whispered. "I am so proud of you."

Bewilderment crossed little Laura's face. Her mother smiled.

"You are a brave girl to take your spanking so well."

Laura sniffed and smiled shyly, blushing at her mother's praise.

"You are the most special girl in the world," whispered Mrs. Trent, her voice catching slightly as she spoke. Tears glistened in her eyes and she hugged Laura fiercely. "I love you with all my being," she hissed boldly. "Know that, Laura. Know that. No matter what happens in your life -- no matter what you do, no matter what anyone says to you, _ever_ -- your mother loves you more than anything else in the world!"

Mrs. Trent pulled Laura from her and stared into her daughter's eyes. "Do you understand me? I love you. Nothing you do can ever change that. I don't care if you're as fat as a house! Sure, I sometimes I have to use the hairbrush on you, but it's over quickly, and we both feel better afterward. Whatever you did is forgotten. And you know more than ever how much I love you."

Somewhere deep inside Laura a reservoir opened and fresh tears flooded down her face. The stone in her belly was gone, replaced by a warmth so vast she couldn't believe it fit inside her. In fact, it didn't, welling up and pouring out through her sobs, but this time she was sobbing in relief and joy.

"I love you, Mommy," she moaned, hugging her mother will all her strength.

"I know you do. I know you try very hard to be a good girl, and most of the time you succeed. I'm very proud of you. I'm the luckiest Mommy in the world to have a daughter like you!"

Something caught in Laura's throat and she couldn't say anything. She felt so warm and secure and loved she couldn't even cry. So she hugged harder, the strength taped from some mysterious reserve deep inside her. With all her being she wished this moment would never end.

The End

Repost of Laura's Original Post

From: Laura Werner
Newsgroups: soc.sexuality.spanking
Subject: Losing interest?
Date: 18 Jan 1998

Hi gang,

Another one of my long, rambling posts...

After I resigned as a moderator, I promised I'd post more. I guess I must have lied or something, because I just haven't felt like writing much lately. Some of that is residual bitterness over the whole charter amendment fiasco a couple of months ago.

Actually, a R/L friend of mine from work looked at my web site recently and told me that my own writing on the site seemed to stop abruptly about a year ago. I wrote lots of posts about my "firsts" in spanking and s/m play, and a lot of introspective posts regarding my feelings as I got ready for the major surgery I had a year ago yesterday.

My friend said that reading my archived posts left him with one question: "What happened?"

I'm not entirely sure. Lots of things, I guess. Instead of being a cause for celebration, the surgery ended up being a fairly hellish episode, what with all of the complications and bad luck. And then my gallbladder died and I had more surgery. And more.

Somewhere along the way I started hating my body. Or hating it more, anyway. I gained a lot of weight after they took out my gallbladder, maybe because it was okay to eat fatty foods again and I was making up for lost time. I'm about 35 pounds heavier than I was a year ago. Yuck. It's hard to imagine anyone wanting to play with me or being attracted to me.

But I think most of the reason I haven't been into spanking as much lately is emotional. All of last year's trauma made me really depressed, and that in turn caused Little Laura, the little girl inside me, to become a bigger part of my psyche. For a while, I felt like I had multiple personality disorder. My therapist even said I was "losing touch with reality" and told little Laura to go away. She apologized for that later, though.

You'd think that feeling like a little girl would make me want to get spanked more. At least I did. But I don't think it did. If anything, I feel so vulnerable and little that I don't wanna be spanked, I just wanna be held and loved and cuddled and cared about. Some spankin's might be okay if I deserve 'em, but being held is better.

Whatever else the effects, all of this has certainly changed my taste in, and my reaction to, spanking stories. I used to get really turned on by a lot of stories, and those were the ones I liked the most. But lately, I like more tender stories, one where someone who is basically "good girl" does something wrong and has to be spanked, and knows she deserves it but it still scares her. And there has to be lots and lots of love and tenderness along with the spanking. The ending of the recent "Millicent" story had me in tears, and some of the "Melody" stories did too. I want that *so* badly it hurts.

I'm not sure where I'm going with all of this. I just felt like I had to share some of it. In a way, this place has been a part of my family for the last couple of years, and lately it's felt like I'm losing that. (Just what I need: losing another family, when my birth family is embarrassed that I even exist.) So I'm trying to start posting here more, to pour my heart out to you wonderful people here, and maybe I won't lose this too.

-- Laura

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