I was wearing a sheer, jade green nightie that wasn't very modest, but even so, when her hand flipped the short nightie out of the way & her fingers lifted the elastic of my panties, I felt tears start to well in my eyes. I was so embarrassed. I wanted Mom to be proud of me, to rely on me, not have to spank me like a thoughtless kid.

In short order, my skimpy panties were dragged down to Mom's confining thigh, leaving me bare from the small of my back to below my knees. With morbid curiosity, I couldn't resist the urge to sneak a peek in the mirror, then gasp in regretful humiliation as the specter of my nudity struck full force. My backside gleamed white in the glare of the lights, accentuated obscenely by my now rearranged lingerie.

"You've filled out since your last spanking, Beverly," Mom remarked, "but I don't think I'll have a problem getting the same result."

"Ohhh, nooooo," I whimpered miserably, recalling all too well that the 'result' of my last spanking had had me sobbing & howling like a banshee & sore for two days!

"Owww!" My shocked body rebelled as Mom's first stinging slap flattened my right cheek.

"Lord, it's not supposed to hurt that much!" my mind screamed. My memory, as fresh as I thought it was, had not prepared me for the electric effect of that first impact. Bravery be damned! I howled from the first to the last crack as Mom set my famous fanny aflame!

"Owww! Owww! Owww!" I chorused to every stinging crack of Mom's still capable hand, again questioning my sanity & wondering how I escape any more. I couldn't. I tried bowing my back, flailing my free arm, wriggling my hips, & gritting my teeth, but nothing helped to ease the scorching waves of distress washing over my bouncing buns.

Within 20 slaps, I would've sworn I had sat on a hot stove & no lie detector in the world would have disagreed. Gosh, spankings hurt!

"I'm sorry Mom! I really am, really, really, really," I pleaded pridelessly, trying to catch Mom's eye in the mirror to add credence to my words, then gasping at the bright pink shade my normally snowy bottom cheeks blazed back.

Mom's expression was still determined, & though I didn't want to see, I couldn't tear my eyes away as her hand swooped down again & I saw my mouth open again in a frozen plea for mercy & I burst into tears.

I sobbed my heart out in shame, in pain, in relief, & in surrender. My bottom danced under Mom's hand to the tune of 100 spanks or so & by the time she stopped, I was beyond caring if the world came beating at the door. I only cared about escaping the searing, stinging hell that had descended on my roasted rump & then cried some more in frustration because I couldn't.

I had learned a lesson, I assure you, by the time my spanking ended. I may have been a star to those who needed that side of me, but I was a regular person & a cherished daughter to my mother. I'd gotten caught up in it all for a while there, but I was back down to earth now. Was I ever.

"You'll get exactly the same thing if you get too big for your britches again, Beverly." Mom quoted her Midwestern upbringing, "I don't care how old or famous you may be, you'll go over my knee for another spanking." she promised when I'd stopped crying & squirming. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do! I do!" I responded quickly, remembering all too well Mom's method of prompting. My backside was hot enough, thank you, & although I sincerely hoped there'd never be a next time, I wasn't about to argue.

I was still pinned in position, though now my wrist was free & I was trying my best to sooth my sensitized flesh with my palm. It doesn't work too well with one hand, though, because as you sooth one spot, another cries out for attention & then the first flares up again.

"Look in the mirror, please, Beverly." Mom insisted. I groaned - I was afraid to look! - but I did as told &, sure enough, saw a distressing affirmation of what I expected: a tear stained, bright red face framed by tousled hair & an even redder set of bottom cheeks obscenely thrust up in the air. God, I felt miserable & small.

Mom let me up, took me in her arms, & held me close. The whispered words of comforting love, the care, & the feeling of being protected that had driven me to ask for her discipline all came back. My bottom was still too sore to make it all seem worthwhile at the moment, but as the sting subsided & the love remained, I knew everything was going to be all right.

After I'd soothed myself, I joined Mom downstairs for a delicious dinner, some genuine laughs, & a feeling that we'd regained our friendship. The fact that I sat on a down pillow as I ate coupled with Mom's reminder that she had meant what she said about future spankings only made me feel even luckier to have her.

It was my decision a few days later to move back home. Mom was positively elated & I was, too. I'd tried flying solo & was glad I'd tried it, but coming home felt so comfortable I knew I'd never try it again until I was ready to start my own family.

That was 9 years ago & I'm still living with Mom. My career has progressed nicely, I'm now considered a 'serious actress' as well as a glamorous star, & Mom & I have started our own production company. We've both come a long way since then, but - I won't keep you in suspense - some things haven't changed.

Yes, I still get spanked. Just like I did then: bottom up, panties down, & until I'm one sorry lady. I'm glad to say the necessity has lessened as I've gotten wiser, but that doesn't mean to say I don't still need Mom's help from time to time.

I sometimes let my temper carry me away & say & do some very unladylike things. That can be a big problem when you're in the public eye all the time. If Mom is with me, she usually intercedes to protect me & whomever I'm angry with, but its those times she's not there that I have to be careful of.

I was in Rome doing a movie three years ago with a director that was an egotistical incompetent. He kept insisting I do scenes in the worst possible way from the first day of shooting &, eventually, my patience ran out. I haven't gotten this far without realizing my talents & flaws, & this little ?1*% - sorry, I still get mad just thinking about it - kept insisting I do the scene in a very unflattering way.

My mother was meeting with the producer over our objections & so wasn't there to calm me down when, during the 12th take, I exploded. I knew I should just walk off the set calmly & wait for word from the producer, but instead I screamed my head off, bared my claws, & threw a fit they're still talking about in Hollywood lore.

I finally did stalk off to my trailer, but not before kicking holes in the set & telling them all to go to hell. Either he went or I did, I didn't much care. They could finish the damn picture without me.

I sat fuming & complaining to my maid - a matronly Italian lady who didn't understand half of what I was saying - until my mother & the producer showed up. The production assistant had interrupted their lunch, panic stricken, & they'd hurried back.

Shooting was closed for the rest of the day since I'd destroyed the set & we three discussed my complaints. Actually, Mom's cool head prevailed & we reached an agreement that the producer would talk to the director & stay around to make sure everything went smoothly from then on.

The rest of the shoot didn't go all that smoothly, but it was livable. The rest of that day, however, didn't go smoothly at all. At least, not in my opinion.

After the producer left, Mom let me have it. Being labeled "difficult" in this business has meant death to careers, so I knew she was right when she scolded me for my tantrum. I probably should say this wasn't the first tantrum I'd had on a set &, although I was right every time, I knew better. My temper had overwhelmed my judgment & gotten me in trouble again. And I knew I'd regret it.

My maid returned after the producer left & I was embarrassed as she overheard my tongue lashing. We were seated in the living room area but I knew she could hear well enough from the bedroom where she was busy putting away my clothes.

Finally, my ears burning as usual, Mom ordered me to go take off my costume & wait in the bedroom. I was going to get a spanking. She didn't say it. She didn't have to. The tone of her voice & the look in her eye made my nether cheeks clench in dread anticipation as I muttered, "Oh, no." under my breath & headed toward my certain fate.

As Gina helped me undress & hung up the costume, I heard Mom leave the trailer & wondered if she was letting me off the hook. She'd never let me off the hook before, but there can always be a first time, can't there? I wondered if she'd wait until later, after all, even though the trailers are custom made & soundproof. No such luck.

She was back in about ten minutes. I had donned just a robe over bra & panties since I knew what was coming. My behind would be bared anyway. It always was. At Mom's call, I very slowly inched my way to the living room.

"You did a splendid job of kicking holes in the set, Beverly." Mom stated, again reverting to my real, full name as she always did when I was in for it.

"Did you stop to admire your handiwork before stomping off?" she asked.

"No." I mumbled, thinking all I saw was red anger & a red bottom would be my reward.

"Come then," she said as my head snapped up & my wide eyes imploringly sought to understand if she intended to...

She did. Without further ado, she took hold of my arm, told Gina to come along, & escorted my protesting self outside, across the road, & into the little farmhouse we'd been using for the film.

"But, but, someone could come along!" I reasoned, knowing Mom had already scouted the area when she left the trailer but hoping I could convince her anyway.

"Not in front of Gina!" I gasped as I saw the maid enter the house behind us, a look of knowing & approval creasing her cheerful face. She may not have been fluent in English, but the look on her face told me she was fluent in stern mothers, naughty daughters, & the best way to make the two see eye to eye! I may have been a little short with her from time to time, but my confused brain couldn't understand why she'd want to see me spanked.

"Gina has three grown daughters, Beverly, & she's told me that she still spanks them when they need it. She's not going to see anything she hasn't seen before. Isn't that right, Gina?" Mom called out as she steered me toward a straight-backed chair.

Gina's gleeful affirmation didn't make me feel any better as Mom let go of my arm & sat down, saying, "take off the robe, Beverly, you won't need it."

I knew better than to protest. I'd tried once & knew better now. That had earned me a second spanking on the following day, & one was quite enough!

"Take a look at the result of your tantrum while you're still up there," Mom said, waving an arm to indicate the holes that I'd kicked in the false walls the crew had built. I knew they'd have them fixed quickly enough, but the damage to reputation was another matter.

"Over my knee." Mom said & over I went. My panties were gorgeous, white lace & I usually thought them sexy. Now, though, with my bottom stretching them for the appreciative gazes of Gina & Mom, they only seemed ridiculous. Going over your mother's knee for a spanking at 24 years of age is embarrassing enough, but downright humbling when you're dressed like a sexy woman.

Mom didn't seem to care much though as she quickly shucked down my ladylike panties & proceeded to give me a very unladylike spanking. I usually don't give a whit about being brave & howl from the first, but this time, with Gina watching, I did try.

I shouldn't have. Mom spanks hard right from the first spank through the last. She's very businesslike & thorough, & I've never gotten off her knee until I was bawling like a hot-bottomed, little girl. Even though I knew I'd be bawling this time, too, I thought maybe I could impress Gina with a measure of decorum.

My resolve disappeared so quickly that I shouldn't have bothered. I didn't howl with the first spank, but I didn't make it to five before I did.

Right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, "Owwww!"

Not that I'd ever want to do any comparison testing, but I'd wager my mother has one of the hardest hands in the world. At least it feels that way when it's landing scorching spanks to my bare fanny.

At five, I forgot about my pride & howled & kicked like a ten year old. At first, I didn't even consider the show I was putting on as my legs waved up & down, side to side, & drummed a beat on the floor my childhood tap teachers would have envied. Let's just say that by the time it did occur to me, I didn't care. Gina could have an eyeful, for all I cared. I only wanted to get my frustrations out as the fire in my derriere rose to blistering proportions.

Gina's presence didn't affect Mom's usual procedure one bit. She spanked from side to side, then in the same place, then up & down my sensitive crease, then side to side, & on & on.

I've been over Mom's knee enough to know better than to try & anticipate where a spank will land. She also changes the pace regularly so I can't steel myself for an impending slap. It's torture!

The little jerk who'd gotten me into this mess would have delighted to see me now. My eyes weren't flashing & imperious epithets weren't spewing from my mouth. I was crying hard & sobs were the only thing rolling off my prized tongue when Mom stopped.

Through a haze of freshly spanked distress, I vaguely heard Mom ask Gina if she thought I'd learned a lesson. Gina's reply & Mom's next statement made me want to curl up & disappear, "Si, me tink bambina learn. If not, again she do."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Gina, because I have to leave tomorrow & I may need you to help if Beverly misbehaves while I'm gone." Her words were like ice water down my spine.

"Are you crazy!" I blurted before I could think better, knowing I'd regret them even as I said it. Mom's hand came down in four quick, sharp slaps on my already smoldering seat.

"Yeeowww!" I screamed with true emotion, knowing that if Mom directed Gina to spank me, I would go over her knee or genuinely regret it.

Well, I didn't have to go over Gina's knee, but her presence was a constant reminder to watch my step. No one but Mom had ever spanked me & I had no intention of undergoing such an experience.

There were a couple of times when Gina gave me a stern look during the rest of the shoot, & the effect was the same as if Mom were there herself. I didn't have a doubt that a spanking from Gina would be as unpleasant as one from Mom.

I've done a few pictures since then, & fortunately, my temper has cooled down enough so I'm not considered difficult at all. Actually, most of the movie industry considers me a classy, talented lady. I owe much of it to Mom. If they only knew!

The Blushing End!

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