My husband Tom and I had been working 7 days on various projects since Christmas and thank goodness our diaries both worked out for a quiet week last week. So we rented a small cottage in Norfolk to get some rest and recuperation, and to do some walking and bird watching.
On Tuesday evening, we decided to go to a local wetland reserve with tall reed beds and some trees where starling murmurations were a regular occurrence. We had been told about the starlings by the lady in the pub just down from the cottage the evening before. Armed with our binoculars and camera, we set out at 3.00 pm and walked the couple of miles to the reserve. We sat down on a slight rise and had a coffee from our flask. Dusk was rapidly approaching as the time was now just after 4.45 pm.
As the light dimmed ever so slowly, Tom heard something in the distance. At first he thought it was a bird song, but soon realised it was voices on the breeze; two females, we thought. As the night approached, we looked towards the west as the sun disappeared and the first of the waves of starlings started to form and dance majestically in the approaching darkness. Back-lit by the sun’s afterglow, we could clearly see, roughly 40 metres away the source of the voices, two women both, I would guess, in their early to mid-20s. One looked quiet and still, the other far more vocal and animated. Both sat on a bench and the talking continued. Above them, the clouds of birds danced their intricate dance, but our eyes were drawn more and more towards the ladies on the bench before us. Lights from the carpark of the reserve cast some light their way, not that they would have noticed. The quieter of the two was now also talking in raised tones and gesticulating, whilst the other woman, who was more muscular in her appearance, was wagging her finger dramatically.
The more slightly built one stood as a huge wave of birds rose and broke above her head and dramatically descended almost silently into the reeds and trees behind her and to her right. Two more followed and the dramatic show was at an end. Or so we thought!
Now the sound of birds had reached its peak and passed, we could clearly hear what was being said below. We stayed still and wondered what was the cause of the heated argument just below us.
“I told you not to touch it, didn’t I? But no, you had to stick your nose in where it wasn’t wanted. It’s not the first time you have ruined the surprise by looking through my things. I brought you down here for a lovely break and this is how you repay me, by going through my case!” The muscular one lectured.
“Look, how many times can I say I am sorry? I wasn’t prying, really!” the slightly built one responded, sounding completely unconvincing.
“I am not standing for it. You have gone too far this time!” the muscular one continued.
The slighter of the two then said, “I am sorry. I just wanted to smell the scent, but I heard you coming out of the bathroom, panicked, and put the bottle back. I thought I had sealed it properly.”
The other woman cut her off dead. “£250 of scent wasted and the room absolutely reeks of the stuff! I don’t know how you expect me to sleep in that room with that odour tonight.”
“Maybe we could leave the windows open, like we left them when we came out?” the slight one suggested. “Look, I am so sorry, what can I do to make this up to you?” she pleaded, almost in tears.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” the muscular one retorted. “However, there is something I can do to you that may make me feel better!”
Tom and I looked at each other, both clearly thinking the same thing. And we were not wrong.
Keeping herself seated, the muscular one took hold of her friend’s arm and firmly pulled her upwards and sideways. She let out a loud screech as she tumbled untidily across her friend’s lap.
“You are 23-years-old. You shouldn’t still need to get spanked to keep you from doing foolish things or going through my things like that.”
Tom and I looked at each other and stifled a giggle. We turned our gaze back to what was unfolding before us, almost in disbelief. We had come to see one of the wonders of the natural world, and this was being eclipsed by a young couple having a spat!
“We should come bird watching more often,” Tom whispered.
After a short wrestle, the slighter of the two women lay over her friend’s lap, bottom turned upwards, her buttocks almost inviting the spanking which had just been promised. We could just about make out her jeans, stretched tightly over her bottom making an easy and ready target for her friend, who wasted little time in administering the first spank. Smack!
“Owchh,” the slighter one yelped as her friend’s hand made first contact with her bum. Similar cries came in response to the second, third and fourth spanks which fell a few second apart on each buttock in turn.
Tom was now transfixed and grinning like a Cheshire Cat that had just got the cream! We could clearly hear each spank landing on the unfortunate young woman’s bottom.
“Stop that infernal racket or I’ll give you something to yelp about!” The spanker said, and to some degree this was successful. The spanked one stopped making quite as much noise, which then made the spanking sounds even more clear.
The spanking continued for a minute or so longer until, satisfied that she had made her point clearly, the spanker rested her hand on her friend’s bottom and rubbed it tenderly.
“Come on, get up. Dry your eyes. It’s all over now,” she said tenderly, and her friend stood up carefully and held her sore bottom. Then she removed her hands from her bottom and hugged her friend.
“Am I forgiven now?” She asked.
“Of course you are, honey. I am sorry I had to do that, but you have had it coming for some time now, haven’t you?” the muscular one added.
“Yes, I probably have. Maybe you should not let it get so far the next time before you put me straight?” she said, drying her tears.
“That’s a deal,” she said, gently patting her friend’s sore bottom, which resulted in the slighter one giving her friend a playful punch in the arm before they walked back through the carpark and out of our sight.
“Well, that was a turn up for the books!” I said to Tom.
Needless to say, he couldn’t resist planting one firm smack across my bum as we passed the bench where the action had unfolded.