I want to send a spanking memory that happened not so long ago. I’ve dated many ladies here in UK, some were born here, but some moved here from Africa and brought their culture with them. I dated a beautiful devout Christian lady, and things were going great. Sadly, it did not work out. The lady in question had two teenage daughters whose father had left them when little, and still lived in Uganda. I dated her for about two years.
After a few dates, I was introduced to her two daughters aged 13 and 15. They were very quiet and respectful, so I was surprised to witness what happened a few months later. We were all out for a kind of family meal, a get to know each other, as I had briefly met them but mostly they said hello and went to their rooms.
We were supposed to all go together, but the eldest clearly was not keen and did not come home from her friend’s house until we had left. Her mother, as you can imagine, was frantic with worry. The young madam was not answering her phone either. I could see her mother was not only anxious but also angry, although she said nothing of it. The three of us went to a local restaurant and had a great time. My girlfriend looked amazing in her dress.
We got back home around 7.00 pm that evening, and we had some coffee and said a prayer. This was just as the older daughter walked into the living room.
Without a word, after the prayer the girl’s mother stood up and said to her daughter, “Where have you been?”
The daughter mumbled something.
She told her daughter to sit down, and start talking with coherent words. As the girl sat down, her mum started lecturing her. I thought that was the end of it, but her mum ordered her to hand over her phone. At first she refused. The ensuing slap across her bare thigh was loud, and the girl was still in school uniform.
The girl handed over her phone, and then her mother phoned the mother of her friend. They were speaking a good few minutes. The conversation got loud, spoken in Ugandan. Then she said something to the youngest daughter, who quickly disappeared and came back with a huge hairbrush, which she passed to her mother.
Screaming, “You liar!” she charged at the older girl, grabbing at her dress, slapping her legs many times, grabbing at her dress to get her closer, beating her with the brush. The poor girl’s dress was dragged up. Showing her white nylon panties, she tried to protect herself from her mother’s wrath. It left nothing to imagination. The girl yelped a few times but, to her credit, took it well.
I felt so awkward, but dared not say a word.