Chapter 5: Sarah Gets Spanked

Andy and I returned to our own chalet and were in bed drifting towards sleep when I heard a car pull up to park just outside. Then there was the clunk of the car door being closed, the beep of a remote locking then the chalet door opening and a strange voice. "What the fuck... ? Jesus, Wendy, fucking your own son?" There was a scuffling and then what sounded like a vicious slap and a cry of pain. I nudged Andy to make sure he was awake and he showed he was by tapping my tummy.

We listened in silence as the sounds next door continued, "Dad, stop it. Leave her alone."

The stranger's voice called angrily, "You, you mother-fucking cunt, just shut the fuck up and get to bed – your own bed. And you, bitch, get here."

We heard the sound of more scuffling and a frightened cry of, "No, Tony, please no. Stop it, I can explain ... Arrrgh." That last cry was preceded by the crack of flesh against flesh followed by another and another. On and on the slapping sounds continued, all the time Wendy was screaming and crying out, "No. No more. Please no."

Andy wanted to get up and stop it but I held on to him and whispered, "No. They have to sort out it out themselves."

After what seemed like an age, the sounds of the beating stopped, to be replaced a rhythmic humping interspersed with Wendy's sobs. Wendy was getting fucked savagely by the sounds of it, but her ordeal wasn't to last much longer. With another loud slap we heard the stranger grunting his orgasm then only the sounds of Wendy's muffled sobs dying away. Eventually we again drifted off to sleep with Andy's hand stroking me.

The next morning we woke, went through our morning routine and were enjoying a cup of tea after breakfast. I had the chalet door open, watching for signs of life from next door. Wendy emerged and glanced into our chalet, seeing me but not really seeing, before walking away up the road towards the camp shops, her shoulders hanging dejectedly. Telling Andy to stay, I went after her, soon catching up.

Her eyes were red and swollen and there was a swelling on her left cheekbone which was slightly bruised. She said nothing so I walked beside her: she would speak when she was ready. Still not saying a word she put a few things in her basket as she walked round the camp shop – it seemed like she was on autopilot. She paid for her goods and set off back towards her chalet.

I took her resisting arm and almost pulled her to the café. I made her sit down, noticing she did so very gingerly, while I got two coffees from the counter and returned to the table. Sitting opposite her, I took hold of one of her hands, trying to offer solace in my silence. Eventually she shuddered, took a deep breath then let it out slowly. "Tony arrived last night." I nodded sympathetically. "I wasn't expecting him until this evening at the earliest but apparently he'd sorted out the business problem quickly because he was missing out on our holiday and he just wanted to join us as soon as possible. He caught me and John in bed."

"We heard it all," I said softly. "Oh, you poor dear!" I squeezed her hand.

"He beat me." Tears were now starting to leak from her eyes. I moved to her side of the table and put my arm around her; she buried her head in my shoulder and I just held her as she sobbed herself out. She dabbed away the tears, blew her nose and through the sniffs told me about Tony, her husband. He had never hit her before, she told me, except sometimes she had let him spank her in the bedroom. Nothing like last night, just enough of a spanking to warm her buttocks, she assured me.

"It does nothing for me, I don't really like it but it excites him no end and afterwards the lovemaking just about makes up for the bit of pain." She shrugged. "Last night he just went crazy and wouldn't stop even when I begged him. Then he threw me onto the bed and fucked me from behind. Do you know what's crazy? I had an orgasm even as I was crying in pain." Again she shrugged. "Go figure! But I still hate it!"

My friend said nothing for a couple of minutes, then: "He apologised this morning but he's still not speaking to John. I don't know how it will turn out." Eventually she gave a loud sniff and shrugged her shoulders as if casting off a burden. We finished our coffee and walked back to the chalets with Wendy not back to her bubbly self but certainly more animated.

But my mind kept spinning round. Thoughts of her having an orgasm after the beating intrigued me and I couldn't get out of my mind Andy slapping my rump on that night we had made love loudly to let Wendy and John know we were like them: how I'd had my orgasm when he slapped me. I know I love it when my nipples are twisted or bitten hard – ditto my clitoris. As we walked back to the chalets I was responding to Wendy's friendly chatter without paying her full attention as erotic thoughts tripped through my mind.

We hugged briefly when we reached the chalets and I went into ours to see Andy still sitting at the table. His eye cocked inquisitively as I sat beside him and I rehearsed what Wendy had told me. "I reckon we should make our own plans for today," said Andy. "Leave them to sort themselves out. Anything you fancy doing?"

"Maybe we could drive round to Newquay and eat some hot Cornish Pasties on the beach. Watch the surfers – not that there's going to be much surf today. Just lounge around for the day and soak up some sun. Maybe have a walk round the shops," Andy grimaced a little at that one so I hurried on, "or get a bagful of pennies and throw them away in the arcade."

My son grinned. "I don't think I ever told you about how I once got real lucky in an arcade. That's it," his face animated as he recalled the scene. "Remember when we had a holiday in Filey – that would be the year before Shitface left?"

"Don't call your Dad that," I told him firmly. "Even if he is a Shitface. Anyway, go on..."

"You two left me in the arcade with a supply of pennies while you went into the pub next door..." He went into a long description of how he discovered a way of cheating and winning on a particular slot machine. "Mum, I emptied that machine and used my ill-gotten winnings to pig out on chocolate and sweets. I couldn't face any more food when we went into that café but I didn't dare tell you why."

"I think I remember that day. I thought you had caught sunstroke or something when you wouldn't eat but your temperature was normal so I didn't fuss too much. You were OK the next day so I thought nothing more of it until now. And yes, you'd have got a thick ear from me or Shi ... your Dad, whoever got there first."

"OK," said Andy. "Newquay it is then, but I don't think I'll ever find another machine like that one. Hey, come to think of it, it wasn't dishonest." He grinned. "Those machines were to test your skill – well my skill beat their machine. It wasn't my fault it wasn't properly maintained. Do we need to take anything with us? I'll bring my camera, of course but we don't need anything else, do we?"

"I don't think so. We can buy any food or drinks we want. We should take couple of towels and the beach sheet of course. And we mustn't forget the sun cream but I can't think of anything else. We'd better set off soon or we won't find an empty spot on the beach. I'll wear my bikini under my dress. Will you get things together while I get changed?"

"Sure Mum," he replied. "It won't take me a minute to put my bathers under my shorts."

Ten minutes later Andy was driving out of the camp. He turned north following the signs to Newquay slowly in the congested tourist traffic. Eventually we got there and by some miracle found a parking space just about to be vacated. Andy managed to slide in neatly, blithely ignoring the indignant honking of another driver who felt he had a claim to the precious piece of turf. The other guy just about had steam coming out of his ears when we got out the car. Andy gave him a gamin grin and a semi-apologetic shrug of his shoulders. He drove off in high dudgeon causing an innocent pedestrian to jump out of his way smartly to avoid being mown down.

I fed the parking meter enough coins to park all day – how do they justify those charges? – while Andy got the bag out of the boot. "That car will be an oven when we get back," I observed.

"Don't expect me to drive around finding a nice shady tree to park under," was his laughing response.

We made our way to the beach. Naturally all the best spots were gone but we found a patch big enough to spread our sheet in, stripped off our outer clothing and settled down enjoy the sun, I put sun cream on his back and he did the same favour for me. It felt good to close my eyes against the sun which glared even through my shades but the warm rays were welcome as was that faint breath randomly stirring the air about us.

After maybe 20 minutes I turned over and felt the hot sun beating down on my back. I relaxed, basking in the warmth. My thoughts drifted idly in that place out of time between sleep and waking, where the world fades away and dreams begin. Erotic vagueness, the warmth of the sun penetrating through my body, the pulsing of blood through my ears like a slow metronome: each swish somehow transforming into the beat of a hand on my bum as the sun beat at my buttocks. Subconscious memories of Wendy getting smacked migrated into me getting smacked. Lying across Andy's lap I was wriggling under his ministrations and pressing my groin into his soft thigh. My pulse quickened, speeding up the smacks until suddenly I was brought back to the world by a hand shaking my shoulder and an earnest voice asking, "Are you OK Mum?"

It took a few seconds for my thoughts to surface, reluctant to let go of that dream. It left me feeling so randy! I turned my head to see Andy anxiously looking down at me. "You were squirming and twitching and moaning. People were starting to look." His voice sank to a whisper, "I thought you were trying to screw the sand."

I noticed my breathing was faster than it should be but calming down now. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked back at him. "Yes, I think I must have been dreaming. I'm OK now, thanks. What time is it?"

"Half twelve," he said, checking his wrist watch. "I'll go and get us some pasties." I reached for my purse and gave him the money then watched while he strode up the beach, his leg muscles working against the soft sand. I enjoyed the sight of his firm young body, his naked back gleaming with perspiration as he walked towards the steps in the sea wall.

As I was waiting for his return, the nature of my dream came back to me. I was conscious of dampness between my legs and a glance at my bosom showed my nipples proud beneath my bikini top. My body seemed to be leading me down mysterious unexplored paths. But what was I going to do about it? I pushed such thoughts aside as Andy returned bearing four Cornish pasties, still hot from the oven, and four cans of cola wet with condensation.

We had our lunch in contented silence, watching the other inhabitants of the beach. Here, a large family group playing cricket: a girl, maybe ten, tiredly chasing the ball her bigger brother had gleefully hit over her head for the umpteenth time. There, a couple of teenage girls giggling as they removed wet bathing costumes and dressed in the only just adequate confines of bath sheets. Kids digging and patting down damp sand, building small castles bearing tiny paper flags. At the water's edge kids of all sizes swimming and paddling: dads with their trousers rolled up to their knees. Drifting on the breeze came the sounds of raucous music pumping out from the amusement arcades, but muted by the general hum and childish shrieks of the crowds around us.