One day, I wanted to ask Petra something. An expected grant payment hadn’t come into my bank account and I needed to delay paying my rent for a couple of weeks until I had the money.

Rather nervous about having to ask this, I went to the living room, where Petra usually was at that time of day. The door of this room was closed and I was about to knock politely when I heard clapping sounds and crying coming from inside. I hesitated and was about to go away for a while, but Petra must have heard me outside and called out: “Come right in!”

I opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Stefan, the eldest boy, draped over his mother’s knee. Petra had a hairbrush in her hand and the boy’s buttocks were red from the spanking he was in the middle of receiving.

I experienced a whole mixture of feelings (most of them inside my own underwear) and I felt myself blushing, but Petra was very matter-of-fact about the punishment. She said: “Stefan is getting his bottom smacked with the hairbrush because he has been very naughty at school. Sit down while I finish spanking him, then we’ll talk.”

Needless to say, I didn’t need any second bidding. I sat down, Petra scolded Stefan a little then went back to work on his buttocks. The hairbrush did an excellent job, and the whole experience of watching an attractive woman administer such a thorough spanking was both fascinating and exciting to me. A big part of me wished I could trade places with the boy and receive a good, motherly spanking across Petra’s warm lap. It was something I had experienced myself often as a child, and I kind of missed it.

When she had finally finished, Petra put Stefan – still -bottomed – in a corner to ‘think about’ his behaviour. The boy’s bright chubby, red bottom was directly in my sight line as Petra asked me what I wanted. I stammered through my explanation and blushed again as I lodged my request.

“Very well,” Petra said at last, “but this must be the one and only time, do you understand?” It felt like I was being lectured like a little boy now. “I won’t throw you out, Jurgen, but as you have just seen, I don’t stand for any nonsense!”

I went back to my room. Did Petra mean that she would spank me, like her son, if I didn’t pay my rent? Part of me wanted to find out – but I never dared be late with my rent again.

After that time, I hung around near the living room hoping to see another spanking, or maybe just overhear one, but I never did. However, I did construct a vivid fantasy of being spanked like a little boy over Petra’s lap for not paying my rent, and jerked off to that fantasy more than a few times during my college years – and ever since, if I’m being honest