Choice exerpts from the old, now-defunct
CHILDHOOD SPANKING MEMORIES FORUM


My earliest memory was getting spanked on the first day of kindergarten. I was told to walk home with some older neighbor kids, and I decided to go over to one of their houses to get snacks before I came home. My mom was panicked. I came in the door and she grabbed me, lifted my skirt and spanked me hard with her hand. The next day when the kids were walking home with me, they asked me if I wanted to come over again. I declined and told them I had gotten a spanking.

 
 I went to a mixed day school that also used the cane a lot, but only on boys. I remember one occasion when we were 12 or 13 and the whole class misbehaved together on a Saturday morning. All boys got caned in the head's office, while we girls got a note to take home for signature and "proper parental action" - read a spanking. I remember that we envied the boys who got away with three cuts of the cane over trousers (max allowed by law), whereas most of us girls got a proper domestic spanking. I vividly remember the following Monday morning. During the first break all girls had to stay back in class where lined up and handed the signed notes back to a male teacher. I had a strong feeling he was chuckling inside collecting signed notes from 15 pony tailed girls in knee long skirts and ankle socks probably imagining who of us had been spanked at home and how. And the boys were peeping through the door and tried to get same questions answered afterwards. EMBARRASSING.

 
 [Daddy] never ever embarrassed me or spanked me in front of others. Though his spankings hurt a lot, knowing I'd disappointed him enough to have to get one always was worse. Even though I can't ever remember him giving me a spanking in anger - though there were times I knew he had to be angry with me.  Afterward he always comforted me and told me I was loved no matter what, and everything was forgiven. A few times I even saw tears in his eyes when he had to punish me harshly.  Most of mine were on the panties with his hand.  If he bared my bottom, it was once I was already over his knee, and my panties were lowered to just past my bottom.
 

 
  As I have told before my father was the sole spanker of Sis and me. Mother decided that a spanking had been earned during the day and Father fulfilled his “paternal duty” after dinner. The anxious waiting was almost as bad as the spanking. He spanked in our parent’s bedroom. We would have to lower our knickers ourselves and bend over the foot end of the bed. He would lift our skirts out of the way and set to work with his stick. 8-10 slaps DID sting a lot and we howled out heads off. Sis is one year my junior and if we misbehaved together we got it together. Spanking age was 8 to 13. We were “late bloomers” and had not hit puberty when spankings stopped.

 
 I remember going on vacation at age 8 or 9, our family was and visting gift shops. Being as bored as a kid with this entire vacation and being little bit dragged into some of these souvenir stores I couldn't help but notice the souvenir paddles right away and quickly shifted off to another aisle.  Long story short, my parents actually purchased one of the paddles that said "For the cute little deer with the bear behind." How embarrassing could that be?    BTW, if anyone else thought those paddles were kind of thin and not too effective, we were all wrong as that paddle stung my bare bottom in less than 3 thwacks to backside. 
 

 
 When I got to the principal's office the secretary took me right in and handed him the note. The principal told me that I would not have been in as much trouble if I had quickly confessed, but that since I had not immediately come forth I was guilty of both lying and stealing. He told me he was going to paddle me and he would give me six swats on my panties. I was too scared to cry at that point. I had not been paddled before. He made me bend over in front of a chair and hold onto the arms. He lifted my dress out of the way and proceded to slowly give me six hard wacks on my panties. I was really crying hard by the time it was over and my bottom was really sore for the rest of the day. The worst thing ,though, was having to go back to class and have everyone stare at me.
 

 
 When I was eight years old, my mom and I met two of her friends at a store and they started talking. The subject turned to discipline and one of the friends asked mom and me, "How do you discipline at your house?" Reflexively, mom and I both said, "Spanking." Then I looked at mom, realized what I'd admitted, and turned beet red. One of the other mothers said, "We spank at our house too," and the second mom said, "So do we. Our girls pull their panties down and get it good and hard." But that didn't help my embarrassment because the moms were the givers of those spankings and I was a recipient.
 

 
  If I misbehaved while my mom and I were out somewhere, she would sit on a chair, a park bench, or a rock, pull my panties down on the spot, and give me a thorough spanking with her hand. Then when we got home, she would say, "Now you're gonna get a REAL spanking," which she would administer on my bare buttocks with her hairbrush. This happened about six times while I was in elementary school.

 
 My husband came home late from work one night -7pm. I had dinner ready for him and as he began to eat his dinner, I informed him that HIS 9 year old daughter announced to me that day that she no longer had to listen to her OLD LADY. My husband immediately got up from his chair (I made spaghetti, meatballs, and italian breadsticks) and headed up the stairs to our daughters bedroom with a BREADSTICK in his hand. Stunned, but not completely surprised, I reminded him that THE PADDLE might be a better tool of discipline.
 

 
  i was spanked by my ballet teacher for poor performance. i was spanked with 2 girls on one occasion for being rude to him. he put each of us over his knee and spanked our practice leotards with a slipper. i daren't tell my parents as they paid a lot for lessons and my father would have given me the strap.

 
 Both my mom and dad spanked me. My mom's were usually pretty spontaneous. Over her knee I would go, down came my pants and panties, and she would spank away. My dad made me wait in my room for him. He lectured me a lot more and asked me stuff like "Do you want a spanking?" Even in the middle of it, he would stop and say "Do you want more?" (What a ridiculous question to ask someone who feels like her bottom is burning!) When I said "NO," he would spank harder! So, even though my mom spanked me much more often and more in public and in front of my friends, I would rather have her spank me than my dad.
 

 
I almost started crying there and then as i heard it was going to be the cane, but i did as i was told and bent over the desk. As i was a small girl and the desk was very tall i had to go on tip toes to reach it, therefore i was moved (prolonging the agony) to standing on a stool with a cushion under my hips to raise my bottom. I knew it was coming but i still couldn't help letting out a whimper when my pyjama bottoms were pulled down, and my top pulled up and safety pinned to keep it from falling down. The whole 'baring' process was drawn out as i was lectured, not paying the slightest attention and i was already crying softly (you have to feel some sympathy here!).  Finally the Head slid my knickers to my knees and tapped my petite bottom twice before giving six strokes of the cane, each one spaced for about 5 seconds, letting the pain sink in.

 
I lowered my knickers, bent over the foot end of their bed in the master bedroom, gritted my teeth and dug my fingers into the bedspread while Father lifted my skirts out of the way. I took three or four whacks from his stick (a wooden shoehorn sized abt. 25” x 1½ x 3/4”) in silence and the remaining six or seven with a long breathless WAAHHH at the top of my voice. My spanking lasted about 15 seconds and my vocalization stopped almost immediately after. I got up, yanked my knickers back in place, rubbed my buttocks, did a little jumping, wiped snot and tears off my face and hicupped while Father hugged me briefly and patted my head. The sting subsided very quickly and 10 or 15 minutes later I was almost disappointed to note that the damage was hardly visible. So when I think about it today it seems a very reasonable punishment of an 8 to 13 year old girl back then in the mid sixties.

 
When we were out in public with my mom, it was always "We need to go. My hairbrush has an appointment with your bare bottom, young lady." At home, her warning was "If I have to speak to you again, I'll tan your bare rear end." And my dad meant every word.  You would think I would have learned to respect the warnings. I was spanked a lot, so I must have been a slow learner.

 
Some of mom's favorites were:
               "I'm gonna lower your panties and spank you till you can't sit down."
               "You're gonna get the hairbrush on your bare bottom."
               "If I hear one more word, I'll come up there with the hairbrush and pull your pants down."
               "Do you want me to pull your pants down and paddle you right here?"
               "Your buttocks are gonna be really sore when I get through with you."


 
One day my mom wanted me to stay inside and clean my room. I saw my friends oustide playing and when my mom was not looking I snuck out of the house. A little while later I saw my mom walking towards us with something in her hand. Too late, I realised she was carrying her wooden spoon. Frozen with fear as to what was about to happen, she announced to everyone there that I was to get a spanking for not cleaning my room and for sneaking out of the house. She grabbed my arm and we marched inside and she gave me a spank every now and then when I was moving too slow. When we got inside I got another lecture and then went over her lap for a bare bottom spanking.

 
My mother caught me playing with matches and said she would have to call my father at work and tell him. I was probably seven. I spent the day in a fever of anxiety. When my father came home, I hid outside in our yard. All I could think of was the spanking I was afraid I would receive. Eventually he came to the door and called my name. Realizing I couldn't stay outside forever, I left my hiding place and presented myself to my father. Sure enough, he took me to my room for a pants-down spanking.


I grew up in New York city in the sixties. It was very common during the summer, during the time when air-conditioning did not exist, that windows were left open. Hardly a night would go by where you couldn't hear several children getting severely spanked. The sound of a belt hitting bare flesh was very typical. Also the way the windows were situated, it was very easy to see into another apartment's living room. I clearly enjoyed watching two sisters who lived across from our apartment getting bare bottom spankings from their mother.

 
My bigger Sister (five years older than me) often saw me get a good hiding. I always had my skirt and knickers pulled down to my ankles, and then I was given a bare smacked bottom, standing up - usually with a bath brush. She constantly teased me about that when we were younger.
I only once saw her get spanked - when she threw a snow-ball which hit Mum right in the face! She must have been twelve, and I was about seven. I'm sure her bottom would have frozen in the winter air, had it not been for the motherly warming it received!

 
The birch was used in Scandinavia in older times but not anymore. Now spanking is illegal and probably more or less non-existent.
The birch is not very big and it is made of small and thin twigs, about 15 of them. They are tied together at the thick end. It is very light and not harmful, but it still hurts in a kind of burning way.
The culprit sometimes had to make his or her own birch, but normally one of the parents made it which meant that you had to wait some time for the punishment. This is good as it meant that the parent would not spank in anger.
After a few days the birch will dry out. A fresh birch had to be made for each spanking. This is also good as it will reduce the number of spankings.
Most children were spanked with the hand and probably not bare bottom. But birchings are always bare bottom since it would not hurt at all otherwise as the twigs are too thin.
I was placed over the knees [when] I was birched, even if I was quite old. You will always try to struggle free because of the burning pain. This means that even old children must lie over the knees because this is the easiest way to hold them still.

 
I don't understand this need to humiliate the child or break their will or whatever it is that adults seem to hope to accomplish. A child over her parent's knee getting her bottom spanked is hardly being defiant.
My mother spanked my bare bottom, though I was really little when that happened, so it wasn't embarrassing or anything. She always put me over her lap first. I don't know if she'd have kept up the practice or not.
Daddy almost always spanked the seat of my panties. The few times he lowered them it was after I was over his lap and I'd been especially naughty. I don't recall it really stinging all that much more, but it did kind of serve as a way of letting me know I'd been extra naughty. I knew it was serious if my bottom was bared.
I can't recall ever fighting to keep my panties up if my parent deemed they needed to be lowered. Maybe that is unusual, I don't know, but I do know if I got a spanking for something, it was a long time before I did it again - if ever.

 
I always got spanked bare bottomed but didn't have to bare myself or make all those preparations for my spankings. Dad would grab my arm, put me across his knee, flip my skirt, lower my panties and start spanking me good and hard. As soon as I was a well spanked teary, bawling little girl, he would pull my panties into place and make me stand up. That was it. Never had to go to my room and bare myself from the waist down or all the things people describe here. Don't know if this is because I live in Mexico and could be different.

 
I believe bare bottom spanking was and is suitable/appropriate as I consider spanking a childish punishment for childish offenses. Spanking age for my sister and I were 8/9 till we just turned 13 and they stopped before we entered puberty. As we wore skirts it wasn’t particularly embarrassing to lower our knickers and bend over the foot end of a bed and have our father lift our skirts out of the way. Our little tap dance afterwards didn’t reveal anything.

I think spanking on bare skin has the big advantage that the spanker can use less force; it’s a question of flicking the wrist to produce a sting rather than hitting hard. I remember feeling embarrassed or “disappointed” when I checked “the damages” afterwards and they were hardly visible. With my own children I have used a flexible 20” plastic ruler. Used on bare skin it produces considerable sting at low force leaving no redness at all after 20 or 30 minutes. If a parent spanks over clothes (in my days it would have been full sized knickers plus a petticoat plus a pleated woolen skirt at winter time) they will have to use a heavier implement and spank much harder which increases the risk of producing longer lasting deep muscular damage. Also the spanker can’t see what he/she is doing.

I agree that today a girl might as well keep her skimpy panties on. They don’t offer much protection and “half the buttocks” stick out anyway. However, since you haven’t tried it yourself I can assure you that the spankee desperately hangs on to any protection he/she can get and the feeling of sliding the last piece down (however thin) is just awful; not because of embarrassment but because you believe it going to hurt more on bare skin.


 
I used to beg and plead, saying "No, please! Stop! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! One more chance! Please! I promise I'll be good!" Then, my tears would start to flow. At the same time, I tried with all my might to keep my pants and panties up. I never won any of those battles. My mom had my pants and panties thrown in a heap over the floor, and my dad had my pants and panties down to my ankles. I remember feeling so powerless once my panties were lowered. My parents always won those spanking struggles.

 
While Mom was dragging me up to my bedroom, it was "I'm sorry! I'll be good! Please don't!"
While the ruler was smacking my bare bottom, it was "WAAAHHH!!!"

 
When I was 5 I got taken over my Mom's knee in a department store. I threw a fit because I wanted a toy she would not buy me. After not stopping after she told me to, she took me over to a nearby bench, took me over her knee, flipped up my dress, slid down my undies and gave me an old-fashioned bare bottom burning with her hand. I remember being shocked at the intense stinging I was feeling and begging her to stop and promising to be good. She didn't listen and didn't stop till I was reduced to blubbering uncontrollable sobbing.

 
I asked my mom if I could get ice cream from the ice cream man who had just pulled up to our cul de sac. She told me no because dinner was in a half hour. I snuck into her purse, stole a dollar and went outside by myself. I bought a drumstick cone and ate it fast. My mom saw everything from the dining room window, but waited until we were all seated for dinner to ask me why I wasn't eating or hungry. I was 4 1/2, so I confessed immediately. My mom walked me upstairs to my room for my first spanking. She was quite disappointed and even bared my bottom for it. My spanking was over within 30 seconds, then I was stood up and she pulled my pants swiftly back up, and demanded an apology through my sobs. I cried and was terribly upset afterwards. She held me for a few minutes, but made me come back to the dinner table while she and my dad and brothers finished their meals. I had to apologize to my dad as well. It was awful. I sat slumped in my seat sniffling until it was time to clear the plates. Then I ran downstairs and crawled into my moms lap for reassurance. She let me sit in her lap and watch TV for the rest of the evening. I was quite upset all night because it was so new to me. I didn't understand how she caused such discomfort to my behind and then was sweet to me as soon as I apologized to she and my dad.

 
Before I knew it, my dad had me lying down on my bed. He lowered my pants and panties to my thighs. And then the spanking began. I must admit, at most, he probably only hit me about ten times with his belt, but it felt like ten minutes. I was sobbing so much that my blankets were soaked with tears.

 
My sister and I were spanked on our panties by our parents, our maternal grandmother spanked me on my bare bottom and I have to say the spankings I received over my panties hurt just as much, even with the frilly panties most girls wore during the 1950s.

 
My last spanking in public was from my grandmother when I was 7 years old.  She was shopping for a new dress and I was staying with her for the week of Summer holidays.  I had run away from her and she called store security who took me back to her.  She gave me the scolding of my life, in front of two sales ladies and the security guard, then she marched me over to a courtesy chair, sat down and pulled me over her lap. I was begging her not to spank me but she lifted my dress up and gave me over 10 hard slaps on my bottom and thighs (I was wearing a pink dress with matching ruffle seated panties. You may remember those if you're my age). I was in tears when she stood me up and then I had to apologise to the store staff for causing a fuss.
Grandma led me from the store and I had one hand plastered to my bottom.  The other adults on the street knew I had been spanked.

 
My mother gave me my first spanking in public on my bare-bottom in the ladies room of the tennis courts she played on Tuesday and Friday mornings. I remember being over her knee as she lifted my skirt and pulled my panties down. She really gave me a good sound spanking and I remember the sound of the smacks echoing off the walls of the room. When we emerged, me rubbing my bottom and sobbing, there was an audience of ladies gathered at the shop sipping tea.

 
The subject of spanking came up when my mother had come over for a visit and my daughter Elizabeth had been naughty that morning which resulted in a spanking over my knee...  I was gobsmacked when my mother disagreed with my spanking Elizabeth. How her opinion had changed from the times I had lain over her knee, having my bottom spanked with her dreaded hairbrush. We discussed the spankings she had given me and while I did resent her spanking me while I was a child I don't resent her now for having punished me in that way. 
Mother spanked me over my panties and I spanked my girls the same way. I don't feel as though there is much difference between spanking over underpants and spanking bare-bottom. The only difference was that I spanked my daughters with my hand.

 
Mom's ritual was to scold me and then put me over her lap, she would then raise my dress or skirt and reach for her wooden hairbrush. I was always spanked over my panties with that brush and after a good 5 or so I was in tears and begging for her to stop spanking me. When I had been 'properly spanked' as Mom put it she marched me to the front right corner of the loungeroom to 'think about what I had done.' I spent that time sobbing and rubbing my spanked seat.

 
I made the mistake of swatting my mother after she had spanked me for dirtying a dress. I smacked her bottom as she was marching me to the 'naughty corner' and then she marched me back to her bedroom for another dose of her dreaded hairbrush. I was one very sore and sorry little girl and I ate my dinner standing up an hour later.

 
My parents were over the knee spankers with the hairbrush which just left my bottom stinging red. I remember going to church one morning after I had been spanked for not dressing in time causing the family to be late (we would have been less late if I hadn't been spanked). I was wearing a short blue dress with matching ruffled panties but one of the girls (Belinda Reynolds, my childhood enemy) noticed I had red marks on my upper thighs and she proceeded to tell every child in Sunday School that I had been spanked and I was teased mercilessly. Word eventually got around when I heard her sister tell their parents that I had been spanked and I earnt some disapproving looks from them after church in the grounds.  And I wasn't allowed to play.  I had to stand next to my mother another indication that I was in trouble.

 
There is one picture of me being spanked in the background of a photograph taken at a family gathering. It is a black and white photograph of me across my father's lap with my dress lifted. I am wearing a white dress with knee socks, black shoes and big frilly panties. Dad has his hand planted on my bottom and you can see my face blushing and wincing.
My daughters saw the photograph in their teenage years when their grandmother showed it to them, they took great delight in seeing their mother being spanked after their visits over my lap they'd had.
I think he spanked me as I had disobeyed him and continued playing roughly with the boys despite the new dress my paternal grandmother had bought me for my birthday. My sisters and I were always spanked over our panties by our parents.

 
One afternoon when I was about 10 I was acting real fresh and was really driving my mom crazy, so when she had finally had enough of my nonsense, I found myself bare bottomed across her lap. But before she could land the first spank, our doorbell rang. It was an old friend of hers who was in town on business & decided to drop by. Her visitor stayed for dinner & afterwards leaving about 8 PM.
I remember thinking that I had really gotten away without getting spanked, but soon after I was in bed, mom opened my bedroom door, turned on the light and said, "I just remembered that I owe you something." Within seconds I found myself back across mom's lap with my pajama bottom pulled down and this time no doorbell rang to save me from getting a good spanking!

 
I was raised by my dad. Most times, I got my panties paddled (spanked on the seat of my panties). There were some spankings on bare bottoms, but mostly on my panties. Considering that I wore cotton panties most of my life, and they were rather thin, there wasn't much difference; both ways stung like the dickens. Having my panties pulled down added another element to the punishment that wasn't just an increase in the sting. It was more psychological; more of a "wow" I've really done something wrong!
My dad could make either method very effective. Regardless, this little girl ended up teary and with a very stingy, red bottom.
I can't say he was permissive; I did go over his knees quite a bit, but he didn't punish me for every little thing.  I had a lot of freedom, but realized from an early age that freedom also means responsibility.
There were some big things that would earn me a very sore bottom; things like lying (or even a little fib), cheating, and disrespect for an adult (especially a teacher). I was big on little fibs for some reason, and that got my panties paddled a lot.

 
I can't say whether my parents would have spanked harder if I had been spanked on my bare bottom rather than over my panties. Usually I received 15-30 spanks depending on my offense. I think I had a little more padding with ruffles on the seat of my panties but I still had a red bottom and I stood in the 'naughty corner' sobbing and rubbing my bottom after a spanking.

 
90% of the spankings I received as a kid were on my underwear. My mom did bare me a number of times as a youngster, but she almost always raised my uniform (school) and spanked me on my underwear. I could feel a difference in the sting factor without panties. When I had my underwear as protection I felt almost a more sore-like pain than the intense sting of a bare bottom spanking. This was regardless of what was used to spank me (hairbrush back, slipper, wooden spatula) - but her hand seemed to sting the most over my panties and was used the most in our house.

 
I went to a private elementary school where spankings were enforced for certain misbehaviors. Our school had a policy that if a parent opposed the spanking, they would be suspended for a full day instead. If there was still a problem, then you could find your kid a new school. I didn't know any kids whose parents were anti-corporal punishment, so we all received a spanking once in a while. Also, most of the time if you committed an offense in the afternoon, you sat in the main office until mom or dad came (no buses since it was private) and they - meaning your parent - spanked you while a teacher was present. Honestly, we all wanted the headmistress to spank us, because it was only about a 1/2 dozen spanks with a very thin paddle. But when my mom got a hold of me on those occasions, she only used her hand, but man did she use it rapidly, sharply and many many more times than the headmistress.

 
For my sister and me, spankings meant a trip across Mum's lap. Once we were there, down came our knickers, to just above the knees. Whenever I begged her to let me keep them on, she'd say something like "I'm not spanking your knickers, young lady. They haven't done anything wrong."

 
My mother would pull my panties down to my knees while I lay across her lap. The reason for this was so she could spank my upper things as well as my bottom. The upper spanks to my thighs hurt the most and after a sound spanking I was sobbing and breathless. Mom gave a few minutes to compose myself before she brought me to my feet and pulled my panties up. There was also the sting of the elastic leg rubbing over my spanked thighs and bottom which made me howl and rub even harder. I continued rubbing my bottom while I stood in the corner.

 
Mum usually didn't give me a moment or nanosecond before a spanking. If I'd done some "wrong" she was on me QUICK. I never really had a chance to think, act, react or even plead. She'd come with belt in hand and either grab me up from the sitting position or flip me over by pulling my legs up from the backs of my knees and give it to me.
Daddy would send me to my room to "think" about what I'd done to receive a spanking and then when he decided to show up I'd be a bundle of nerves. He'd lecture me reducing me to tears and have me almost begging him to spank me. The whole time his paddle or belt would lay on my bed calling to me. He'd then start asking me his famous questions, "Why am I going to spank you?", "What are we (as if he was involved) going to do to see to it this never happens again?" "Do you know how much I hate doing this (ok then don't do it)?" Stuff like that.
I always hated the spankings Daddy administered because they were not only extremely painful but they were lengthy including my Go to your room to think time, my before-spanking lecture, my actual spanking itself then my after-spanking lecture.
Mums was always painful but fast and no time to think or be sick to my stomach like Daddy's.

 
I was around 7 or 8 and I made the mistake of going with my cousins to the forbidden haybarn at my Uncle's.
We would jump from the loft down into unbailed hay and scream and giggle with delight. It was great fun. We were forbidden from going to the haybarn because my cousin broke his ankle the summer before and Uncle Sam did not want a repeat of this.
My cousins were all down at the bottom of the loft and were waiting for me to jump when all of the sudden all of them took off out of the barn and Uncle Sam stormed in and caught just ME!!!
I pleaded and cried and begged more not to get a spanking but before I knew it I was over my Uncle's knee, shorts and panties around my ankles, and getting a good blistering. I remember 3 pair of eyes watching through the barn slates right before the first smack landed.
I remember HATING all of my no account yellow cousins for taking off on me and leaving me to take all my Uncle's anger out on my little butt.
I didn't rat them out at the supper table that night though because my Uncle and Aunt gave me plenty of chances to fess up and tell them if I was by myself or with the others. I figured that the blistering I got was enough for everybody but I did tell them all later if they ever took off on me like that again my finger would start pointing.

 
My mother kept her wooden backed hairbrush on her dresser.  That was her favorite implement to spank my sister and I with. I always looked at her brush before she spanked me with it, but she never picked it up until I was over her knee and my dress had been lifted.
At school my sixth grade teacher kept her cane hanging by its crook handle from a brass coat hook that sat on the wall left of the blackboard. As she was also the mistress for girls she would cane you in class, our only saviour was that girls were not caned in front of the class as the boys were.

 
My mom would let me cry for a few minutes, but if she felt I was carrying on needlessly, she would tell me to stop crying or I was going to get a second spanking. I did get a second spanking on a couple of occasions, though these were usually less than a dozen spanks with her wooden spoon. It does seem strange that parents would think that a second spanking would make a child stop crying.

 
The first spanking I remember was from my grandmother when I was 5 years old. I don't remember being smacked prior to that but I may have been. Nanna put me over her knee for getting a grass stain on my Sunday dress which was a big no-no for girls as Sunday dresses were the most valuable item in little girls' closets. I don't remember how much my spanking hurt but I do remember standing in the corner of Nanna's sitting room rubbing my bottom.
Nanna spanked me one more time when I was 8 years old for coming home late from riding my bike when I was staying with her for school holidays. She spanked me the same way she had spanked my mother and Aunty Susan when they were little girls: that was over her knee with the back of her wooden hairbrush.  My punishment, as the saying was back in those days, was a 'sound spanking.'

 
I got one spanking from her with her hairbrush, bent over the side of her bed with her seated right next to me. It was for getting into her make-up on her vanity which I'd been spanked for before. I had very sensitive skin and the make up would make me break out in a rash, but being a typical little girl, I wanted to play with it anyway. Normally, my mother would put me over her knee, bare my bottom and spank me with her hand. This time she made some sort of comment about giving me a big girl spanking, and pulled me so I was bent over the bed next to her and gave me 4 or 5 spanks with her hairbrush over my clothes.
At the time it took me by surprise and I wailed. It hurt a lot more than her hand and even the spoon, even over clothes and I cried a lot. I must have reacted pretty strongly as my mother apologized for using her brush and promised not to ever use it again until I was much much older. It did make me wonder though if that was how she planned to spank me once I was too big for her lap.

 
I was always told my spanking was for a reason and that my behaviour would improve once it was over. I often wondered why I was going to be a good girl again just because mom thought the spanking was going to cure me somehow like some kind of medicine out of a bottle. When I was over her knee she would say this is for your own good and it will teach you a lesson never to be bad again. She often yelled at me just to reinforce her spanking. Well my spanking was always very painful but it didn't make me into a good girl. I think it made me into a resentful girl and I felt sometimes a chat with me about my problems would have helped more. To me, mom was getting a release of tension with spanking me and it was more for her own good rather than mine.

 
I once hid from my Mum in a department store in between a rack of clothes. I thought it was a great game, I remember being paged for and Mum being quite frantic calling my name as I giggled in my new found freedom spot. Finally a department store hand spotted my little feet and pulled me out. I believe the look she gave me was bad enough but when my Mum got to me, oh boy. I would have thought she'd have been happy to see me since I took missing but OH NO she had other things on her mind. She took me over to a dressing room bench put me over her knee flipped my dress up pulled my panties down and absolutely tore into my butt. I screamed and kicked and cried. I forgot all about being embarrassed. I was worried Mum would never stop and I'd never be able to sit again. I can imagine people probably watched or passed by but I really couldn't say I was in agony. I can assure you I NEVER hid from Mum again.

 
The scene for a spanking in my house was Mum sitting on her bed with me or my sister draped over her lap with our dresses up and our knickers at our upper thighs. For us the vision was the grey carpet, Mother's shoes and her bedspread. The sound was her picking up her wooden hairbrush from her dressing table and us begging her not to spank us. When she began our spanking there was the sharp crack of the brush on our bottoms followed by our howls which filled the room. After we had been spanked she pulled our knickers up and marched us to the corner to "think about what we had done!". If the two of us were in trouble we had to watch each other's spanking which was quite painful. As I was the eldest I was spanked after my sister. I was in tears watching Mum spank Lucy, the sounds of the brush hitting her bottom were awful, her squeals and how she kicked her legs made me cry.

 
I tried the innocent little girl look over my shoulder as Mom was lifting my dress and pulling my panties down. Needless to say it didn't work. During my spanking I looked through my tear blurred eyes at the carpet and I could also see Mom's shoes and the legs of the telephone table.

 
The only time Mom ever gave me a warning spank was if we were in public. I remember once at my Aunt's house I was fidgeting and whining that I wanted to go home. My mother bent down to my eye level, and with a very stern look on her face, gave me one sharp slap on the leg. She said "Mia, Cut It Out!" I could read in her face that if I didn't stop, this would be just a prelude to what would happen to me when we finally did return home.
When my sister and I were young, we were always spanked right after our misbehavior. My spankings were never delayed unless I had acted up in public or misbehaved at school. If my teacher called my Mom due to my misbehavior, I could count on getting a spanking when I got home. Mom always spanked my Sister and I in private.  Mom would take the guilty one by the hand and lead her up the stairs to our bedroom. Once there, she would pull pants down and guide the recipient across her knee. She would spank very firmly, and deliberately in the same spot over and over again, until I would be apologizing and begging for mercy. She finally quit after I'd be crying so hard that it was hard for me to catch my breath. She'd leave me sobbing on my bed to think about it, and she'd go back downstairs. Usually within a half hour, she'd come back up and lay down next to me. She'd hold me and talk with me until we both felt better and I would promise not to repeat the misbehavior again.

 
When my mom lowered my underwear I was over her lap already, but I still would try to reach back and pull them back up, acting like she accidentally pulled them down. The only time I remember actually fighting when they were being lowered, was the one and only time my dad's sister spanked my bare bottom. I was in summer shorts and I was about six. I was misbehaving all day and wouldn't go to the corner when she tried to punish me. She came toward me as if she was going to "help" me to the corner, but before I knew it, she had pulled me against her thighs and leaned over my back and pulled my shorts and panties down to my thighs in the back only (we were alone in the house). She smacked my behind once, then I magically pulled away and pulled my shorts back up and tried to run. She caught me, but was not about to fight with a child, so she tried to walk me back to the kitchen chair for a spanking, but I actually threw myself down on the floor and rolled onto my back so my rear end was out of reach. She was shocked at me because it was so out of my character to be that way. She ended up walking away and waiting for me to calm down. When she came back in I had put myself in the corner and was crying. She came and talked to me and I calmed down. Unfortunately for me, before I was allowed to come out she quickly tugged down my shorts again and gave me a half dozen very sharp slaps to my behind. I should have let her do it the first time and it probably would have been a couple smacks only. I never really acted up like that with anyone again, and I think my mom asked her to spank me on my pants if I ever needed a spanking from her again.

 
When my mother first married my stepfather, I can recall several times "testing" him to see what I could get away with. One day, I recall it being in summer, I was told repeatedly not to go near the jacuzzi, as Tom was cleaning it with heavy chlorine, and it wasn't ready for anyone to enjoy yet, but in a few hours, we could go. Evidently, that did not satisfy me, as I kept going over, and putting my hand in the water, to test the temperature, and Tom, at the same time. Sure enough, I felt a large hand on my shoulder, and I was being turned around. Tom knelt down, and said, "Look at me, Valerie. How many times have I told you not to do that?" I didn't answer, and he swatted my bottom. I felt tears well in my eyes, from embarrassment rather than pain, as I answered, "a lot." When Tom told me to go to my room, I refused, loudly proclaiming I wanted to stay outside. He picked me up, all the while my screaming, "I don't want to go upstairs!" Instead, I found myself over his knee, getting at least ten firm swats. He then told me to stay on the couch in the living room until he said I could go outside. He also warned me not to pout or I would get another spanking. It was not the last time Tom spanked me, but it was the last time I ever tested him to get a spanking.

 
I never tried to get a spanking on purpose but once I got a spanking and it was like 3 or 4 days later and I was being a little snot and Daddy asked if I'd like a repeat of the spanking I got a few days before and I screamed "Sure Daddy, I'd love it!!!!!" being VERY sarcastic. Well much to my dismay Daddy was very accommodating and I was a very sore and sorry sassy Miss.

 
I remember when I went to high school in a town much further from my home...it was an all girls school and I didn't know anyone there. I quickly made friends with a girl named Blake, and she came to spend a weekend in my home. We were just getting to know each other, so we were telling each other stories of past misbehaviors. It turned out we both had been caught shoplifting in 4th grade. She was grounded, and I told her I got spanked. She was shocked as she was never hit at all. She had met my parents that morning and couldn't believe that they would spank me. I called my brother in to the room and had him agree with me. She was then very interested and asked me a million questions...  At first I felt weird, but realized she was just curious because she was shocked and didn't think kids were still spanked (late 80s-almost 1990). She made me show her my dads leather slipper that he used, but when she asked me to smack her as hard as I got spanked, I said no, laughed it off and put it away.

 
When I was growing up my aunt used to spank us all. My sister and I got spanked no more than once or twice a year, at most. And by hand, in our rooms. My brother and my older male cousin, my aunt's son, got it at least once a month. I know because she spanked them "in public", usually their living room. She used a wide, bamboo back scratcher -- their pants and underpants entirely off -- on their bare bottoms. The back scratcher was about 18 inches long, and thick, with a carved wooden handle. It was very effective and they were usually crying after just four or five whacks, no longer concerned about their modesty. I must have seen them spanked three or four dozen times, maybe more. I was glad my aunt felt girls shouldn't be spanked as often as boys. And especially with that bamboo back scratcher!

 
I wasn't spanked all that often I don't think, but I did have one week where I got spanked several days in a row. It was during my preteen years and I just couldn't seem to help being difficult. Basically, it was growing pains and I felt Daddy was being unreasonably strict about certain rules and treating me like a little kid, so I decided to prove that I could do what I wanted. Yes it was stupid, but girls at that age aren't always reasonable.
After several days of having to spank me, Daddy was distraught. He comforted me as always but before he left my room told me we were going to have to have a serious talk after dinner. And we did. He flat out told me how much he hated to have to spank me and how much it hurt him to have to punish me and see me so upset. He wanted to know why I was doing the things I was doing. We talked it out and came to some compromises though somehow knowing I had hurt him by my actions made needing to prove my point a lot less important. It was a lonnnnggg time after that before I needed another spanking.

 
I remember once getting it 3 times in one week. Twice from mom and once from dad. Each time I had to pull down my pants and panties and go over their knees and get a sound spanking. When it was over I was a sobbing remorseful young lady with a red bottom.  Otherwise then that I got it when I needed it and without hesitation and so did my sister.  I was 9 or 10 and managed to come home to late from after supper play and sassed my mom back. 3 times in one week. I behaved for quite a while after that.

 
I went to an all girls private school in the Isle of Man in the early 1970's. The usual method of punishment was the strap across your hand, or for more serious offenses, it was applied across your bottom. The recipient was called to the front of the classroom, and would have to bend forward facing the class, over a wooden desk. The teacher would flip her skirt up and usually 3-6 strokes would be applied across her bottom. You never got to see her bottom as the penitent was facing you but it was still very real!!

 
I never had the opportunity to put anything down the back of my panties as I was always sent to the corner before I received a spanking. My cousin Peter, when I was staying with him and my uncle and we were both in trouble for coming home late for supper, put a comic down the back of his shorts before his father gave him the strap Uncle Alan found the comic and took his shorts down took the comic out and strapped him again. Uncle Alan gave me a spanking over his knee, as I had a dress on there was no way I could have put anything down my underpants without it being discovered and he must have taken notes from my father when he lifted my dress to spank me, I had ruffle-seated panties on so I had a little protection but Uncle Alan still brought tears to my eyes as he spanked me but he didn't spank me as hard as he had spanked Peter.

 
I was my sister's elder by three years. By the time she had reached spanking age of 4 I was 7 and she had seen me spanked several times. I would have taken great delight in seeing her receive her first spanking, but on her first I was also in trouble and Dad set the precedent of spanking us in front of each other when we were both in trouble. Sally was first and I remember sobbing as Daddy spanked her and I watched dreading my own turn over his lap. How she cried and begged for mercy telling Daddy that she was going to be a good girl. Sally and I were spanked over the knee on our bare-bottoms with a wood hairbrush that Mom kept on her dresser. We were spanked good and proper and our bottoms were almost crimson, but we learned our lesson well. After our spankings Dad put us in separate corners and we spent the afternoon crying and rubbing our bottoms. So there was not much delight in my sister finally being spanked when I was in trouble and spanked as well.

 
Recently, one of my cousins spent the weekend at my house with her three girls. We've been really close all our lives, but hadn't seen each other in a while. During the weekend, we discovered my daughter and two of her daughters playing what was obviously a spanking game. We tried not to make a big deal about it, but we got the kids interested in something else as an activity.
Later on that night, my cousin and I began to reminisce about a spanking game we used to play up until we were both about eleven or twelve. It wasn't a "playing house" kind of game. It was much more direct. We basically took turns being the parent or being her child. Whichever one of us was the child got spanked by the other in a very realistic way; pants were pulled down, sometimes (often) panties were pulled down, the position was always over the knees, and the spanks were pretty hard. We were caught at least twice as I recall. On each occasion, we were told to go outside and play, but we weren't punished for what we were doing. Afterwards, though, when my cousin went home, my dad explained that we shouldn't be playing such a game and that he didn't want it to continue. It continued, but we were much more careful about where and when we played.
Anyway, my cousin and I had a few giggly, blushing moments over wine recalling our misadventures, and resolved to be a bit more observant with our own kids in the future.

 
There were no specific spanking games with my friends but we did have spanking when we played house. We took turns in being mother and daughter, I usually preferred to be the mother as I wanted to grow up fast. Most of us were spanked by our parents so we continued that tradition. Spankings were always over the knee with the hand. We didn't spank hard but the recipient put up a fuss as though she was really getting it. I think I was the recipient on four or five occasions but I remember spanking a lot more. We were caught once or twice by adults but they just laughed, I think they viewed it as good training for future mothers.

 
My cousin Anne and I played a game we called House in which we took turns spanking each other just like our mothers did, on our bare behinds with a belt or hairbrush. We did this once a week when we were left with Anne's older sister who paid no attention to us. The spankings were real leaving us with a red behind and sniffling. We had a tree house in the woods behind her house where we did this.   The game started when I was six or seven and Anne was eight or nine. I teased her about her crying and begging during a spanking I could hear when she was getting it in her mother's bedroom. She was softly sobbing between cracks, and when one would land on her bare behind she'd howl then resume sobbing until the next crack. Her mother was a slow spanker who took careful aim with her thin stiff leather paddle she used to spank her kids (and at times me) all the while keeping up a steady critique of their misbehavior. My teasing imitated her mother's scolding, I'd supply the sound effects of a crack landing on her behind, and then I'd pretend to howl like Anne and blubber ending with her begging, "Please mother stop. I'll be good." That infuriated Anne, and she dared me to let her spank me like she got spanked to see how much I could take. I didn't know what to say, and she kept saying that I was a coward for not agreeing to her test. Finally I said I would let her spank me if she let me spank her, then we'd see who could take the most. She agreed, and we played in the tree house in the woods behind her house.

 
I started getting spankings from my stepdad at age 10 when my mom remarried. They hurt more than the ones I got before because my stepdad got mom's permission to pull my panties down. I had previously been spanked on my clothed bottom. My stepdad spanked me by hand on my bare bottom until I was about 12 and then switched to a belt, which really hurt. While my spankings hurt, they were always justified and I have no regrets about my upbringing.

 
Mom usually spanked my sister and me. She was very traditional putting us over her knee and lifting our skirts. We were spanked over our panties with a wooden hairbrush that Mom kept on her dresser. Her dresser had a long oval shaped mirror and when you looked over your shoulder you had a plain view of Mom spanking you. I was never spanked on my bare-bottom, Dad used his hand to spank my sister and me.

 
I was over my father's lap with my pants and panties off. I was trying to do everything possible to avoid getting a spanking, but nothing worked. When I managed to get my hands free to cover my pale white bare bottom, my dad got them away from my bottom. When I tried to wiggle, he managed to get a firmer grip on me. Nothing was working. Cute, little eleven-year old, blonde-headed Katherine was going to get a spanking with a ping-pong paddle, and there was nothing I could do or say to get out of it. Before I knew it, my spanking began. It hurt almost as badly as his belt. I'll never forget that loud pop, smack sound that it made as it smacked my bottom. It was different from the swish, crack of jis belt. It echoed more being in our basement. At least my younger siblings couldn't see, but they were probably listening to every sound and enjoying it.

 
Two times that I can remember when I was young, my mom took me into a single-stall ladies room and spanked me for misbehavior. Once I was six and at my oldest brother's wedding rehearsal dinner. I fought with my older brother closest to my age all through the starters and my mom and dad both told us to stop. After my mom warned us one last time that if we did one more thing she'd take us to a private spot to spank us, I made the mistake of not listening and smacking first. She didn't say anything to notify other guests, but did carry out the spanking she promised in the ladies room. She didn't bare my bottom, but just put me over her lap and raised my skirt to spank with her hand. It didn't last that long because she knew I would get the point quickly since we were in a public place. After a dozen swats, she held me in her lap until I stopped crying. Then she wiped my tears and we went back to the party. No one said anything to me to humiliate me - thank God. 
The second time was when I was in 3rd grade and my mom and 2 older brothers and I were at an upscale Tuxedo rental shop getting my brother's prom tux. I was running all over the store and wouldn't listen when the man who ran the store told me to stop. So she walked me into the back dressing area where only women were allowed. It was completely private and I thought she was only going to scold me. She pulled a hairbrush from her purse and pulled my hair up, trying to calm me down. But after I stuck my tongue out, she turned me around and spanked me a handful of times with the brush she was using on my hair. I grabbed my skirt and cried quietly. If we had been at home, I would have been more dramatic, but I didn't want others to know my spanking hurt. It was bad enough I figured someone had to of heard it.

 
My mom only bared my bottom for spankings when I was very young (age 5-10).  If I was wearing pants, she'd pull them down to my knees while I was standing in front of her sniffling.  And once I was over her lap she'd take my panties down only in back, right below my rear end. If I had a skirt on (almost always did since I had a school uniform), my mom would raise my skirt after I was over her knee. Usually, I got a spanking on my panties. Only for major things did I get my underwear taken down.

 
When we visited my mom's parents in England they would spank us for behavior they didn't like. They would tell you to go get the stick, which was about 1 1/4 feet long and 2 inches wide. I think it was a back scratcher maybe. You would have to get it from the hall closet and wait in the room you were sleeping in. Then they would come in and you handed it over. They also would ask you to turn over their knee or lean over your bed-depending on your age. Then if I had a skirt on, they'd say "raise your bottoms" and I had to lift it up and they would spank on my panties until I cried. I only got 2-3 spankings from them because I was afraid of my grandma and tried to be very good to avoid a spanking from her.

 
My eldest brother was 26 and I was 8, and he had just gotten a pool put in his backyard. I was swimming alone with him but I didn't want to follow his no jumping in rule. He kept warning me and I ignored him one too many times. The last time I jumped in, he told me to get out. I was being defiant and stuck my tongue out at him. He pulled me out and as soon as I was on my feet he turned me around and smacked me a few times on my swimsuit bottom. I screamed from the sting. He handed me a towel and told me to get in the house because if I didn't listen I couldn't swim at his house. I did walk with him inside, but I was yelling and being rude the entire way. When we were inside, he grabbed my arm and knelt down to be at my height - he is very tall - to scold me, I punched his arm with my free hand, trying to get him to let go of his grip...Big mistake. He calmly stood up, towering over me and told me to get dressed because I was getting a spanking for that. I screamed no and threw a fit, so he reached over my back and smacked my wet swimsuit bottom several times sharply. At that point I just cried and said sorry. He marched me to the bathroom and told me to get dressed because I was going home. I stood in his bathroom staring at my stinging backside in the mirror because it was so pink. He didn't smack me more than 9 times, but it looked as if I got a severe spanking....and the wet suit made it feel like that.

 
I remember was when I was 7 and my mom took me to a hair dressers for her appointment. Mom was waiting and another mom brought in her daughter, around my age.  Her mom wanted her hair cut in a Dorothy Hammell style, pretty short. The lady was getting the scissors ready and the girl started throwing a fit.  Her mom gave her a bare bottom paddling right in the shop. I always think of that when I am getting my hair cut!

 
My family was on vacation at a nice hotel in Florida. It was getting late in the day and I was swimming in the hotel pool. My Dad told me to get out and dry off so we could go back to the room. As I was getting out of the pool I gave him a sassy answer to which he responded with a sharp smack to my bottom. Further he announced in a loud voice "Pamela, you've earned yourself a bare bottom spanking when we get to the room. I blushed as I knew many people heard. I was silent as we walked into our hotel and up the elevator. Once in our room my suit bottoms were pulled down as I laid over the edge of the bed for a loud spanking with his belt.

 
I think my mother spanked my bottom bare because she was spanked that way and just felt that was the way spankings should be given.
Daddy only bared my bottom very rarely when I had done some thing extra naughty. It was his way of sending the message that what I had done was more serious but without making my spanking that much worse. It was more of a psychological difference, though he never made a big deal about it or tried to embarrass me.
My uncle always spanked bare too and it was just how he felt a proper spanking should be given.
My bottom was only bared once I was over the spanker's lap and my panties only lowered just enough to expose my bottom.

 
I never asked my parents why my sister and I were always spanked bare bottom. I don’t know about my Father but Mother and her sister were raised by their widowed father the same way. They even got it with the very same stick that Mother had inherited. So I believe part of the reason was heritage. It also seemed to be the norm at the time so it didn’t even occur to me that it could be any different. Spankings stopped before we reached puberty and as we normally wore skirts I don’t remember it as embarrassing to lower knickers and bend over the bed in front of my father. ALL - absolutely all I could possibly focus on was the pain I was going to feel and the feeling of sliding the last piece of protection down was just awful; not because of modesty but because I believed it would hurt more on bare skin.

 
When I was a little girl I was probably spanked three to four times a year up until puberty. As my parents had laid a good foundation with the use of loss of privileges and spanking, by my mid teens being grounded was a worse punishment than having my bottom smacked.
I have a daughter aged 4 and I recently gave her her first spanking when sending her to the corner did not work to curb her tantrum. By using corner time she learned the consequences of being naughty and by spanking her when she continued being naughty and coming out of the corner, there is a more unpleasant punishment around the corner. After I had spanked her she spent her corner time sobbing and was very well behaved during her second time out.

 
The earliest spankings I remember from my mother were given bare bottom, over her knee, and by hand. At first she bared my bottom herself, but as I got older she'd make me pull my own pants down. From the age of eight on, she rarely ever spanked over her knee, but instead made us bare our bottoms, and bend over the arm of the couch in the living room or over a chair in the kitchen. She also stopped spanking by hand when we were eight and started using either, a flyswatter, hairbrush, paddle, or belt. As we got older it seems we were spanked less often. I got my final two spankings when I was fifteen (about three months apart).

 
My sister Karen (who was ten at the time) and I came home two hours past dinnertime. We walked into our kitchen and saw mom standing there with the flyswatter in her hand. She asked us where we'd been and "chewed us out" for coming home late and not calling. She pulled a chair away from the kitchen table, and told my sister to pull her pants down and lay across the chair. Karen started crying as she pulled her pants and panties down to her knees. Mom bent her over the chair and told her, "Oh I'm gonna give you something to cry about young lady!" Then she proceeded to bust her bare bottom with the flyswatter. I stood there watching my sister's butt turn red as she kicked and cried. Then it was my turn.

 
I was never made to wait for more than a few minutes when I was going to get a spanking, apart from once or twice when for some reason Mum wanted Dad to spank me rather than do it herself. Then, it was the classic "Wait until your father gets home!" stuff - which I always thought the worst. Poor guy, imagine, he works hard all day to keep his kids in bicycles and roller skates and stuff and then he gets home to be told the first thing he has to do is spank one of his naughty daughters. Those kind of spankings were some of the hardest the three of us can remember.

 
Once, a kid from a couple blocks away was "outed" at the bus stop by his sister the morning after he got a spanking. He was about 13 at the time, and she pointed out how he got their dad's belt. He turned it around on her and told everyone how a few weeks before she had one "on the bare butt, with mom's paddle." She was my age (11 at the time), and I had a crush on her. She got very upset at being "outed" herself... just the thought of her cute bottom getting paddled made for one of the earliest memories I recall of my own interest in spanking.

 
Mrs Bell was my 4th and 5th grade teacher for 1957 and 1958. I think she was a relic from the Civil War she was that old fashioned and old. She kept her paddle hanging from a small nail near the top corner of the blackboard. The slightest offense was a paddling offense. I once received three licks for scraping my chair and one child had three licks for making a paper aeroplane. Generally there was a paddling at least once a week. She paddled me five times during the two years I spent with her. [F]ortunately she was a good teacher when you were well behaved and her pupils had good grades. She paddled in front of the class and as girls had to wear either dresses or skirts she would just lift your hem up as the hem hanging down over your bottom generally stopped the effectiveness of her paddle. After paddling you she sent you to the back corner to stand with your hands on your head.
Mrs. Bell gave me my last paddling in October of 1958. She gave me five licks for talking while she was talking. She paddled me during lunch and lifted my dress right up. After my licks she told me that, "You should have known better by now Missy."
I don't know if she enjoyed paddling or was just a very, very strict teacher.

 
When I was between 5 and 8 yrs old, our form tutor, Miss Galloway, used to during each lesson always take out one child boy or girl and stand them in the corner until lesson was over.  Then when everybody was gone from the class she would bend the child over her knee and spank them until they were crying loudly, which she used to enjoy doing.
Once we would not sit down in class so after the 2nd time of asking she told us to line up and one after another she spanked all 12 of us until we couldn't sit down.  When she had finished our lesson was over.
In the 3 yrs I had her has a teacher, 17 children were taken out of her class by parents due to her being heavy- handed with kids.
On 3 occasions, she spanked kids in her classroom on their bare bottoms in front of other kids,  myself being one on both sides.  On one occasion behind closed doors she spanked myself and another child over her knee, bare bottom with her slipper.  I didn't sit down for the rest of the day.
When I came back to school when I was 9, we were told her services had been terminated due to complaints.

 
In one shop my Aunt found a "joke" paddle.   You know the kind, "Board of Education" or some such thing. And my Aunt thought it was funny and she bought it, making some joke to my cousin Nancy to "watch out!"
Nancy was 12 years old and embarrassed by her mom buying the paddle and saying that in front of everyone, so she started to pout.  Walking back to the motel my Aunt warned Nancy to "lose the attitude young lady, or I WILL use this new paddle on your behind!" I silently urged Nancy to be quiet but she was getting mad at her mom and being snotty back.  And I just thought, oh my god, Aunt June just wants a reason to try the joke paddle!
About ten minutes after we got back to our Motel I was out on our balcony, which was right next to my Aunt's room and their balcony sliding glass door was open. Sure enough, I heard Aunt start lecturing poor Nancy, then heard the sharp slaps of that paddle on bare skin as my cousin got a good hard spanking.
As Nancy cried and my Aunt lectured, "Not so sassy now, are you?" and such, I just thought it was so unfair of my Aunt to buy the paddle and embarrass Nancy and then end up spanking her with the stupid thing.
Much later I heard that the vacation paddle was packed away and never used again.  Aunt June went right back to the traditional hairbrush.

 
I was in first grade and my mom took me and my brother to the grocery store. I was told twice to not stray from my mom. On the third time, when we were in line to check out, my mom swiftly picked me up and placed me in the cart while she paid. We got to the car and she promised me a spanking the minute we got home. Within three minutes, we were home and my mom was unloading our car. I was sent to my room and my brother was ordered to go play with the other boys (my other older brothers still at home). She came to my room, quickly explained to me what could happen if I got away from her and why it was serious enough to earn me a spanking, all while I cried. I was turned across her knee, my pants tugged down, bringing my panties with them to just past my bottom, and I was spanked soundly with my mom's hand. I was sobbing by the time it was over. I received hugs and kisses and tissue, but I still cried for a good ten minutes. My rear end was stinging for awhile and I remembered the message for life. 

 
We were visiting one of my dad's sisters. She took her daughter, Margaret, who was 12 at the time into their master bedroom for a spanking. She was crying as her mother lead her into the bedroom by her hand telling her in detail that she was going to pull her pants down and spank her bare with a hairbrush till she can't set down. Well I suddenly felt the urge to "go to the bathroom" and walked down the hall. As I walked down the hall I could hear the sound of a hairbrush smacking my cousin's bare behind and her crying promising to be good. I saw the door was cracked open and couldn't resist peeking in. I saw Margaret over my Aunt's knee crying and kicking with her pants and panties around her knees as her chubby bottom was smacked repeatedly.

 
I was usually sobbing even beforeher first spank landed - sobbing just with the embarrassment and shame of being across my mother's lap with my panties down.  In my pre teen days I was spanked by Mum's right hand; as a teenager it was the hairbrush back. Either way, I was crying my heart out long before my spanking ended.

 
My father was the sole spanker in our family and I was fairly old when I got my first real spanking at the age of nine. As I got a little older – like 11/12/13 when CP stopped I was very concerned about taking it like a “big girl” – particularly when I knew that others were present in our house. I cooperated in resignation once it was finally going to happen (I might have waited hours for Father to get home), lowered my knickers and bend over the foot end of their bed in my parents' bedroom in silence.  Quite often I was second in line and had just watched my younger sister get it. While Father lifted my skirts out of the way I would dig my fingers into the bedspread and grit my teeth. I would take three, four maybe five solid smacks with his 25” stick (depending on age) in total silence and panic as the sting built up to an unbearable level much faster than I remembered from the last time. Then all of a sudden I would burst into one long breathless WAAAHHH that lasted for the rest of my spanking and could be heard throughout our house. I have a feeling the spanking was “designed” for the collapse to happen half way through. My experience as a parent is similar.

 
I would start crying when I was being told why I was going to get it. As soon as my pants and panties were taken down I would cry harder and by the time I was over their knee and getting my spanking I was a remorseful and blubbering girl. When my spanking was over I was stood up and my panties pulled up.  There were hugs and my promises to do better, along with my parents reminding me that a repeat would get a repeat.

 
I do remember that once when my sister and brother and I were all three spanked together, my sister - who had been spanked first and finished crying first, came over to my bed where I was still lying face down, bawling my eyes out. My brother was in his room down the corridor also still crying. She lifted my skirt and said, "It's only a bit pink - stop crying!" If we hadn't just been spanked for fighting, I would have hit her again!

 
I was spanked over the years mostly by Mom and sometimes by my Dad and the way it was done seldom changed. I was told I was going to be spanked and was taken to the den where Mom would pull out the desk chair and sit down and I got a good talking to about what I had done and for doing it I was going to be spanked.
Then I was told to take down my pants and panties to my ankles. Promises of good behavior and pleas not to spank me always fell on deaf ears. This done I was taken over their knees and the spanking given. When it was over I was crying loudly and promising good behavior and was reminded that if I broke that promise I would find myself in the same position again.

 
I can vividly remember bending over my father's knee for a bare bottom spanking with his slipper. I always had to go and fetch it, remove my knickers, lift my dress and bend over his knee. This was normally for being rude or cheeky. On one occasion I got a real bottom warming in front of friends. I was so embarrassed lying there over dad's knee, knowing my friends were watching my bottom red and quivering... My friends thought it very amusing, and told everyone at school.

 
I happened to be in the same room with my mother, aunt, and Sue when she happened to get her mother angry at her by continual back talk. My aunt finally had enough of her sass, took her by the arm, pulled her over her lap, and gave her a long hard spanking on her bare behind. That wasn't the first time I saw a sibling or cousin get spanked, but it certainly was the hardest spanking I had seen given to another kid. Sue was ten and I was eight.When Sue's spanking was over, she was bawling, her behind was bright red, and she was humiliated since her younger cousin saw her naked getting her behind warmed.

 
My mother spoke four languages well -- English, French, Spanish, and Italian. She was also fluent in "Hairbrush", which she said is a universal language of discipline understood by naughty children everywhere -- especially the children in our family. She "spoke" it on our bare bottoms so we'd REALLY understand it.

 
When I was 7, maybe 8, we were at a hotel with a bunch of friends, and even though I had my swimsuit on, my mom didn't want me to get my hair wet, mainly because it took forever to dry! Anyway, I'm sitting on the steps at the end of pool, with only my legs in the water when my best friend's older brother pushed me into the pool, getting me soaked in the process! My mom came running over and was yelling at me, and to make matters worse, one of her friends who never did like me, and still doesn't, told my mom that I had indeed jumped into the pool, even though my friend was swearing to the fact that her brother had in fact pushed me in. Anyway, to make a long story short, my mom yells at me to get out of the pool, and proceeds to spank me in front of everyone! And to make matters worse, my friend's brother was watching me get spanked, and I had a serious crush on him!

 
I had been mouthing off to my mom all day. She told me it was time to leave and I threw a fit. I guess she had enough and she pulled her hairbrush out of her beach bag and started to drag me over to this low bench that separated the beach and picnic area and announced to just about everyone that I was going to get a spanking.  It seemed like everyone was watching us. When she sat down she pulled down my bikini bottoms and before I could pull them up she grabbed my wrist. I had to stand there naked while she lectured me about my behavior. She put me across her lap and spanked me until my bottom felt like it was on fire. When she let me up I could see some of the boys laughing as they watched. I have never been so embarrassed.

 
My sister and I received groundings on some occasions, spankings on others. Given the choice, I'd have gone for a grounding every time, because I hated, hated, hated being spanked. Looking back now, however, I can see that when Mum decided on that "five minutes in hell" as you put it - hell being me sprawled face down across her lap - she was right to do so, because my offense had been serious or a repeat. I dreaded the words "This means a spanking, young lady" but begging for an alternative was futile. If Mum had decided on a spanking, then a spanking I got!

 
In my house the "historic implement" was in fact a clothes brush... used on my mother as a girl.  She used it on me.  And I used it on our daughters. It was always the "Ultimate deterrent" and not actually used often though whenever we spotted that it was "missing" from the hall stand where it lived our hearts missed a beat and we started wondering what we had done that had been found out.  Almost always it turned out it was being used for a totally harmless purpose.  But there were times....

Worst of all was seeing it lying on our BEDS when we went upstairs.

That brush certainly had a fascination for me too.  But the main thing was I never really knew when it was to be used as we were never sentenced to "the brush."   It was either "Go to your room." (Pretty well always meant a spanking came with it) or "We'll see about this at bedtime."   Very rarely were we actually told "You are going to be spanked."  It was however almost always used as the threat "Do you want a spanking with the clothes brush?"

Generally however we knew that it had to be something fairly classic for the brush to be used and to be honest a "normal" spanking, while unpleasant, was not something that caused me to worry about too much until the moment.


 
If we were in the kitchen when we misbehaved, we would go right over Mom's lap while she sat down on a kitchen chair.  If we were in a different part of the house, we were lead by our ear to the kitchen where we got it over her knee. If we were outside or returning from a trip in the car, we got dragged inside by our ear and got paddled in our kitchen in the same manner. If someone was in our kitchen it did not matter. Mom liked punishments to be right away. I got paddled many times with other family members in the room at the beginning of my paddling. I usually did not see them in the kitchen when my paddling was over though.

[I was] 9 or 10 [for the] last one from Dad, 12 from Mom??  Teen years we were always warned that we were not too old to be spanked, or "you're not too old to be put over my knee young lady." Although I do not remember any spankings in my teen years, just denial of privileges and groundings.


 
I was raised in the 50s by parents who believed in spanking as their major discipline method. I was spanked over the knee, bare, by hand until I turned 12. Then mom introduced me to her wooden hairbrush which was used routinely on me until I was mid 16. Mom was consistent, it was always given in the kitchen with me over her knees, bare bottom, followed by corner time.

 
My parents' friend had one of those novelty paddles hanging in their kitchen. I couldn't help wonder what it felt like. I always wondered what it said on it, but was afraid if I got so curious as to get up close to it and read it, Mrs. Brown would decide to give me a sample. Of course now, I know she wouldn't have. I just couldn't help but wonder how it felt. I did eventually get to, though. Her son and I were playing in her house and broke a framed picture. I was 9 or 10. She spanked me over her knee on my bare behind, not hard but for a long time - longer than my parents would. Naturally, when my parents picked me up and found out about it, I got it again at home, with the brush. When I was little, my parents spanked us with their hand, always on my bare behind, over the knee. About the age of 5 or 6, I got upgraded to the plastic hairbrush, still bare, over the knee. At age 11 I was old enough to get the belt

 
The older I grew, the more severe her punishments became. Dad would never lay a finger on me, but Mum was quite capable of reducing me to tears well into my teens. I can't remember my first spanking but I certainly received the odd slap or two on my bottom by the time I reached school age. By the time I was nine I suffered my first bare bottom spanking with her wooden hair brush - only about four smacks, but I was howling after the first. As I grew older, I became rather defiant and Mum acquired a thick leather strap. For the first time I realised what it was like to be properly thrashed as that horrible strap whipped mercilessly across my sensitive little bare bottom. I thought nothing could hurt more than this, but when I was nearly sixteen I did something really bad and was ordered into the sitting room and told to bend over the arm of the settee. Mum raised my dress and lowered my knickers, then left the room. I thought I was in for a real strapping, but to my horror she returned swishing a whippy school-type cane which she had borrowed from a friend. I was terrified. As the cane touched my skin I somehow felt extra bare and vulnerable. Then I heard the swish and a moment later felt the most terrible pain in my bottom. I yelled as five more strokes whipped down across across my flesh. The possessor of a very sore and well-marked bottom was left in no doubt about which instrument of punishment was the most effective!

 
I think a hand is the only thing a child ever needs to be spanked with. I was spanked from ages 5 to 14 and I got all of my younger aged spankings (5-10) with a hand almost 99% of the time. My parents did use several other things, except for a belt, strap or switch, which was NEVER used on any of us. From experience, the hand would have been just fine and just as effective, there wasn't the need for the other things they used. 

I don't think a bare bottom spanking is ever needed either, though my mom did some when I was under the age of 7. My dad never spanked any of us on anything but clothed bottoms. My mom did what she was taught, like I think a lot of people do, so I harbor no ill feelings about them, but I have told her that her bare bottom spankings and implements were unneeded at the time, her hand on my pants worked the same magic on my behavior. And as far as dads not spanking a girl's bare bottom, my dad preserved my modesty (as well as my brothers) and I am appreciative of that. The spankings coming from him were terrible enough since I was a daddy's girl and had so much admiration for him. Some men feel the same way, while their wives will spank a bared bottom... which I can understand without the sense of a double-standard. Mom's always feel physically different towards their kids than men do. They are literally a part of your body for 9 months, and that's something men will never get. I can see where the dad might want to not do anything that would seem inappropriate to the girl as she got older. Having said that, I don't think moms should do it either... I am against it... even though I got them. I wasn't embarrassed at the time because it was mom and me alone in my room and I was quite young, but looking back I do feel pangs of humiliation knowing I was in that position of complete loss of control over my physical being. Differently than my pants up spankings (which were the normal ones in our house).


 
My dad had several [spanking warnings]:
"When was the last time I paddled your panties, young lady?"
"Next time I have to speak to you, the palm of my hand is going to have a long talk with the seat of your panties!"
And if we were out in public, he would very quietly say:
"We'll be going to your room when we get home, young lady."
Didn't matter what he said, I knew he meant business.

 
We stopped at a motel with a swimming pool. My sister and I quickly changed into our suits and went swimming. Two boys joined us a short time later, brothers we learned, and they started roughhousing and making noise. My mother came out and told us to be careful and behave ourselves. We weren't the ones making the noise, the boys were. They started to tease us and splash us, just acting like pains. After a while I got fed up with the boys and pushed one of them into the pool. Unfortunately at just that time my mother came out to check on us again, and saw me push him. She told me to come in immediately. She took me inside, made me take off my bathing suit and spanked me hard for disobeying her and making trouble. When she was done and I was dressed she made me go out and apologize to the boys. I was mortified, but not as much as I was when they told me they had heard my spanking and laughed at me!

I think I must have been about 10 at the time, just on the brink of puberty or maybe already in it and rather independent-feeling for my age. My sister would have been 6, almost 7. I don't really remember the boys' ages but they were slightly younger than me I think. I was as big or slightly bigger than the oldest, I do remember. He had pushed my sister in at least once and had tried me when I turned the tables on him. I was a lot stronger than I looked I guess and was proud of my athletic ability.

My undoing was the fact that it was a warm day and my mother had opened the front windows in our motel room. So the boys heard much of my fruitless pleading about not taking off my bathing suit for my spanking, all of my spanking and my cries, plus my mother's lecture. Of course I pleaded with her that she had got it wrong, but it made no difference.


 
I remember one time when I was being spanked by mother. I was about 6-7. I was lying across her lap, on her bed. facing the foot of her bed with my head in the covers. My bare rear end was sticking up in the air and she was spanking me with her hairbrush. As always, I started crying softly before my spanking began. When her first couple of spanks hit, I remember thinking (as I whimpered) "oh, this doesn't hurt too much!' Then two or three spanks later I remember thinking "I CAN'T STAND THIS ANYMORE!" and I actually heard myself start crying for real. The next thing I remember is standing in front of mother having my pants pulled back up.

 
Mum disappeared, then called down the stairs, "Sonia! Get up here NOW!".

I went up to Mum in my bedroom, and she had the clock in her hands. My heart sank.

"You've been stealing!" she said, followed by "I'm going to WHIP you!".

Next thing I knew, my skirt and knickers were pulled down, and - standing - Mum started to smack my bum HARD with the pink bath brush reserved for such occasions.

"No more, Mum" I cried - in vain. Mum blistered my bottom, to the point that I actually wet myself uncontrollably (for the only time, I think, during a spanking).

She'd never used the word "whip" before, and when she said that word, I had imagined it would involve a belt or suchlike. That was never used in this or any case, but the bath brush was absolutely severe enough.

Afterwards, I was left alone and crying - and I can distinctly remember looking at my crimson bottom in my mirror, hating Mum for it.

I've never really stolen since (okay, the odd envelope from work) - but I often think about this spanking, my most severe I ever received.


 
It was one of the only times I've ever seen my Daddy angry. He hugged me tight then said in way too calm a voice, that we would be discussing this at home and he didn't want to hear a peep out of me. When we got home he sent me to my room while he calmed down - which seemed like forever.

True to his word, he spanked my bare bottom with the hairbrush. Normally spankings at the age were about 12-15 spanks, and any with the brush were over my panties. I didn't count but this spanking was probably closer to 20-24 spanks. Afterward, Daddy hugged me super tight like he'd never let go, and I realized he was crying too.


 
The worst spanking I ever got was when I was eight years old. I snuck out of the house after bedtime and my mom had one of those motherly sixth sense things and woke up and checked my room for me. She frantically woke everyone up in the house and had my older brother call the police. My dad ran out to the front yard and crossed the street to the park, and found me and my 11 yr old neighbor Jason. Within minutes, the police were at our house and my mom had woke up every neighbor on our street. When I got into our house, my mom sent me to bed. Ten minutes later she came into my room with her paddle. It was an old hairbrush that had the bristles removed (over time). I had never been spanked with it, it was reserved for my older brothers' spankings. They got it over their pants. But my mom was so upset, she pulled my underwear down to my knees, put me across her lap and lifted my nightgown and spanked my bared bottom. She only slapped me about ten times, but she did it fast and pretty hard. I think that is the only time I genuinely shrieked and screamed during a spanking because it was so painful. I sobbed myself to sleep that night, even though she hugged me and sent me to bed with a kiss. I was just miserable. After she was finished spanking me, I jumped off her lap and threw myself onto my bed without pulling up my panties. I just lay there face down feeling very sorry for myself and sobbed. I pushed her away and cried until I wore myself out and went out for the count. When I woke up, My underwear were still at my knees and I defiantly stayed in bed until eleven. then I went downstairs and she acted like nothing had happened the night before. Eventually, by lunch, I got over it.

 
I had no idea my friends, who were both twin girls and about 10 yrs old, were going to be spanked in front of our whole class. They were always very well behaved and gave no trouble in class. However they were both called out to the teacher's desk and the teacher got her chair ready. I was at the front so I had a very clear view of what was happening as the first girl's skirt was pulled up high and then she was being given a lengthy spanking. The other twin looked on horrified and I will never forget her face as it was going on. Soon it was her turn to bend over teacher's knee and get what was coming to her. This event has stuck in my memory and it lead me getting into trouble with my parents as I wanted a similar experience despite being smacked on the back of my legs quite frequently when I was younger.

 
One time was when my parents were having an important dinner party for business friends and local politicians and Sis and I had been way out of boundaries and arrived home dirty and far too late after the guests had arrived. Thank God we were not supposed to eat with the guests – that was always so boring, but we had been told to be there when they assembled for before dinner drinks and be shown as “sweet little girls” and shake hands and drop polite curtseys.

Mother was FUMING and told us to change into clean dresses and then appear in the dining room to say hello to the guests. “Father would deal with us later”, she said. They were already at the starter when we showed up and we ran the gauntlet round the large dinner table and made some 18 or 20 curtseys. Then we were fed in the kitchen and between the main course and the dessert Father found the time to “deal” with us his usual way in the master bedroom. Each and every guest heard it and when it was over he told us to reappear in our dining room to say good night to their guests once we had calmed down. This caused fresh tears and wild begging to be spared the embarrassment, but he was adamant. So after some time we entered our dining room and stood quietly like “wet mice” along the wall. The guests were laughing and talking as if “nothing had happened” till Father got up and said that his daughters were sorry they had been late and would like to say good night before going to bed. All I saw were “faces of approval of good Conservative child rearing” round the table. We dropped a quick curtsey, mumbled good night and disappeared as quickly as we could.


 
When I was four I would often stay with my aunt, my mother's sister. My mother worked 7-4. One day I wandered off to play with the children down the street without telling her. She came and found me and took me back to her house. But as soon as we reached her front yard she took my pants down and spanked me.

She then told me that if I ever did that again, she'd take my pants down in front of the other children and spank me with them watching.  That hit a nerve.   It was then that I realized I had an interest in spankings.


 
It was a spanking that I heard, rather than witnessed, at the age of eleven, that I think I trace to my lifelong habituation and fascination.

Barbie was 9, and Billy was 5. One Saturday, the three of us were found out in a deception that was instigated with two other children.  We had camped out overnight in the river drain tunnels, each set of kids using the others as an alibi for staying overnight. when confronted, we tried to lie, which only made it worse.

I crept up to the windows (which were high and screened), and although I could not see, I heard more than enough. Billy's cries, Barbie's screams, and the rhythmic flat smacking sounds of the paddle on those two little bare bottoms still reverberate in my mind.

The next day, I was still in bed when Barbie and Billy came into my bedroom complaining that I should have been spanked too, and teased me until I said that they could spank me. They did this with great fervor and little effect as I was still under the sheet and blanket. But that mild sting did firmly reinforce the sounds of the previous day, further embedding and sealing the neural nexus that brings me to this wonderful community of like souls.


 
Up until age 10 I would cry, beg for her to stop, promise to never do whatever it was again, same as everyone else here has said. In fact, I'd start crying pretty early and would scream at the top of my lungs, hoping it would make her stop sooner.

My mother used a thin belt, folded. I had to bare my butt and bend over, elbows on knees or grabbing the seat of a chair. She'd then stand back so that there was about 18-24 inches of belt extension from her hand to my butt. And it cut like crazy. Up until about age 5 or so she had used a thin switch, so a thin belt was a logical step up as I got bigger.

She spanked fast and covered my whole bottom with red stripes before she was done.

Whenever she spanked me my mother always tried to hug and comfort me afterward. I'd never accept it, but would fight her off and run off from her. Sometimes I'd have nothing to do with my parents (other than basic requirements) for days afterward.

But when I was 10 my mother spanked me pretty bad for something I thought was totally beyond my control.   (I had failed a math test because one of my contact lenses was scratched and not only could I not see the paper, I was in extreme pain in my eyes.)

I was so angry with her for spanking me for that that I resolved not to make a sound or shed a tear. I found that I could, for want of a better phrase, practically step out of my body and become so completely detached from the goings on that I never even changed expressions or even flinched as she wore my butt out with a thin belt.

It was as if I was two entities, and the one in control was watching things and not directly involved. The me who was being spanked could still feel her spanking, but the me in control chose for us not to react to it. So I didn't.

To my mother it must have been like spanking an inanimate object.

When it was finally over I still didn't say anything, but just glared at her. She was so shaken by this that I was never spanked by either of my parents again. But then, I never hugged my mother again after that either.


 
I first realized that I had an interest in spanking when I was around five or six yrs. old. I was watching "Blue Hawaii" starring Elvis Presley. There's a scene in the movie where Elvis takes a young woman over his knee and gives her a spanking. Just viewing that scene made me have butterflies in my stomach. I used to go to bed at night and fantasize about a new movie star every night giving me or someone else a spanking. I used to make up all different scenarios. It was almost like making my own movie.

 
We were all in one of the bedrooms, when my aunt said it was bedtime. My oldest cousin Carmen who was 12 at the time was upset because it was Saturday night and she wanted to stay up to watch "Creature Features" (a show that featured old Science Fiction Movies). She tried to get her mother to let her stay up to watch it but she refused. Carmen swore under her breath, and my aunt heard her. She grabbed her off the bed and right in front of the rest of us turned her over her knee, pulled her skirt up and her panties down to her knees then spanked her hard with her hand. It was a long and very hard spanking and Carmen kicked and cried the whole time kicking both her shoes and panties off as we stood watching. It seemed like the spanking lasted an hour, but it was more likely a couple of minutes. By the time she finished, Carmen's bottom was a dark red, and she was bawling. She grabbed her shoes and panties and ran to her bedroom. The rest of us quietly went to bed. After that I could just close my eyes and still see the image of her bare bottom turned up over my aunt's knee and her kicking and crying. 

She received a lot worse spankings than that one. My aunt was too strict with all three of her children, and I do believe it had long lasting consequences with all of them. She would spank them (bare) with a belt or razor strop for not making straight A's in school. I don't think we ever visited them where at least one of them didn't get a spanking - sometimes just for looking at her wrong. All three have had problems in their adult lives with substance abuse, relationships and professionally.


 
I think [my interest in spanking was "hardwired" and do not remember a time when I wasn't interested. Of course, growing up next door to an old fashioned Italian family with 7 daughters and seeing several of them spanked bare bottom with the strap over the years sure kept my interest level high.

I was good friends with the daughter who was my age and I was over their house many times all during my childhood when one of them would get out of line. This was the early to late '60's. The father was a no nonsense guy and if he thought a spanking was warranted the unlucky girl got it no matter who was around. In fact, he didn't seem to even notice who was there. This happened to the girls up to the age of 10 or 11.


 
I would have to say that the one my mother gave me when I was 7 was my worst. My brother, sister, and I were playing together. My brother frequently liked to pick on me, tease, or start trouble. My mother didn't openly play favorites; however, both my sitter and I knew she favored our brother. He was so clever and my mom always laughed at his jokes. He was her golden boy. I was playing with play-dough. I placed the red play dough on my finger tips to look like a hand model. My brother started teasing me, picking on me, and making me feel stupid; so I smashed the clay nails in his hair. My mother saw me do this and immediately took off after me. I ran to one of my safer hiding places, ironically, under my parents bed. My mother saw where I took off too and pulled me out from under their bed. She threw me over her knee and pulled my pants and panties down to my knees. I got the spanking of my life. She whipped my bare butt about 20 times. I was bawling, kicking my legs, and trying to get away. I thought my mom would never quit whipping my butt. 

Here's what really bothered me; my mom didn't give me a chance to explain my side of the story. I would hate to think that she knew about my brother picking on me and thought that I was the only one who deserved to be punished because I lashed out. My brother really could be mean to me. My butt really hurt and stung for a long time after that. I had red spank marks on my bottom for a while and it was very tender. That night as I was getting ready for bed, my mom noticed my red spank marks. She said, "You must be allergic to spankings. Maybe I need to give you more." I felt like crying right then, but I didn't. I was the one most frequently spanked by my mom. While growing up, we just didn't get along. 

While looking back, I probably did deserve a spanking for what I'd done, but I don't think I should be have been whipped that hard over something like that. I love my mom and am working on my relationship with my brother. I will never forget that spanking though.


 
My parents started spanking me at age 2. I soon learned that if I was disrespectful, rude, or contrary, I'd find myself across one of their knees getting my bottom warmed. Many people comment on how well behaved my brother, sister, and I were. We knew what to expect if we misbehaved. 

When I was 10, I discovered that many of my friends were either never spanked or their parents stopped spanking them by age 8. I remember feeling angry at my parents for still spanking me. One day I got brave and questioned my parents as to why I still needed spankings. I came up with what I thought were some pretty persuasive arguments. My parents were not amused and put me right back in my place. They let me know that as long as I was under 18, it was their job to discipline me. They also mentioned that as long as I misbehaved, I'd be put across their knee. My dad did not like my questioning and told me to button up my mouth before he decided to spank me. I knew better than to push my limits.


 
When I was really little I remember my parents giving me just one or two swats on my clothed bottom. I think I started getting real, over the knee spankings when I was 4. I got my panties pulled down for bare butt spankings twice; once when I was 5 and again when I was 7. Otherwise my spankings were over my panties or clothes. When I was little from ages 2-4 I was hand spanked. My mom started threatening me with other things when I started school (usually her wooden spoon). My dad gave me lots of hand spankings. Even with his hand it really hurt. He knew how to make it hurt. Other than his hand, my dad would occasionally get out or take off his belt. I didn't receive many belt whippings. Except for an isolated incidence when I was 6 years old. He waited until I was around ten before his belt became a threat.

My dad rarely used his belt. When he did, he folded it. His folded method that he used hurt plenty. I can't imagine what the wrapper method on bare skin would feel like. Yikes! That's a bit over the top. From my own experience, being on the receiving end of his folded belt, I can say this; it stung and I cried lots after my daddy gave me a belt whipping, but I know my father wasn't mean about it. He wasn't cruel or gave unnecessarily hard spanks. He gave me them over my clothes. My backside was always pink afterward, but he never left marks. I definitely got the message from these spankings.


 
I had some pretty thin, leather, pastel belts (blue, pink, and yellow). I was in the fourth grade which meant I was nine years-old. I fought with my brother which wasn't uncommon in my house. My mom tried to say I started it. I was angry and talked back. While I was getting ready for school, my mom picked up my thin yellow belt and spanked me with it. It was a thin belt, and I was only in my underwear, so that spanking really hurt. I remember feeling the sting for a while. That was the only time I was ever spanked with my own belt. I didn't know a stylish girls' belt could hurt so bad.

 
My parents used a variety of warning phrases. These are the ones I remember:

"I'll put you over my knee."

"Do you want me to put you over my knee?" Of course the answer was always, "No."

"Watch it, or I'll paddle you!"

"You're itching for a spanking."

"You won't be laughing in a minute."

"I'll plaster your butt."

"I'm getting ready to whip you."

"Don't make me come over there."

Here's one of my father's favorite that I truly hated. It's just so annoying and stupid; "I'll spank you good and plenty." He loves that candy, by the way.

My sister was the smart mouth of our family. One time daddy threatened to spank to her she said, "Oh, you want to thank me." My dad did not like her comment and said, "Yeah, I'll thank your butt all over." He chased her to her bedroom, but she didn't get spanked. He just scared her. I would never have said anything like that. I never wanted to chance really getting one.


 
I made the mistake of being stubborn with my father during a spanking. Going to church was a serious affair in my family. As children we were expected to sit still, listen, and be on our best behavior. If we got wiggly, distracted, or less than reverent, we were quietly scolded. If we continued, dad would whisper that we were getting a spanking at home. Compared to the behavior I see at church now-a-days, my brother, sister, and I were angels. We really didn't act out too bad because we knew how strict our parents were. 

Between the ages of 6 and 7, I seemed to be easily distracted and restless at church. I received warnings and I when we went home, my dad never forgot his threat, which meant I was put over my dad's knee. I started disliking church because I always seemed to be the one getting spanked afterwards. I was so angry with my father that I didn't put up a fuss when I was about to be spanked. I made up my mind that I wasn't going to cry, I was so mad. My dad slapped my butt and it really hurt. I wanted to cry, but I was mad, and can get very stubborn and head strong. Daddy noticed that I wasn't crying and he slapped my butt even harder. I continued to hold out until they got harder. I burst out in tears and my dad stopped my spanking.


 
Tom spanked me twice before his marriage to my mom. The first was for disobeying my mother. I was playing with my dolls and I went into her room and took her make up and put some on my dolls. Tom was there when she told me not to do that again. Later, over the weekend, I was playing and decided that my dolls needed blush and make-up on their eyes. Tom walked in on me, and lead me down the stairs to tell my mom what I had done. I told her and then I started to cry. Tom carried me upstairs to my room (it was around seven or eight in the evening) and told me I was being punished and I had to go to bed. I said no, it was summer and I could stay up later. He started to pull the covers on top of me, and by then my mom walked in. She started to speak and I told her to shut up. I found myself over Tom's knee, crying more out of humiliation than pain, as they were a mere five light smacks.

The second time Tom spanked me before he married my mom was during a family dinner. I have never liked lima beans and I remember my mother telling me to eat five of them, since I was five years old. My older brothers were there as well as our neighbors and not only would I not eat them, but I sat at the table and pouted. My mom told me to sit on the sofa in our living room. Well, I did, but I also turned on the television very loudly and sat on the floor. Tom came in, all six feet two inches of him and said sternly, "Valerie, turn off the t.v. and come join us at the table." I stuck my tongue out at him. The next thing I knew he was carrying me up the stairs to my room, and spanking me on my underpants. I didn't resent his spankings, because I knew that I had misbehaved. After he and my mom married, I continued to get spankings from Tom until I was about fourteen or so.


 
I went to private schools in Southern Connecticut for grammar and high school in the mid-80s to 1996. Those schools all allowed spanking for misbehavior. My grammar school enforced it with all students, but my high school requested parents permission, which mine gave. K-4 spankings were pretty much like mommy's spankings at home. The teacher would prop you over her thigh and spank the seat of your uniform with her hand a dozen times or so, pretty hard. There were small paddles, but the headmistress was the one to use it. In high school, there was a leather-like paddle that the head used. I got several spankings when I was young. A few a year from teachers, one every 2 yrs from the head. In high school I can only remember 2 spankings from the faculty and both were freshman year for fighting. They were in private and very cold. They creeped me out because I had never been spanked in such an unfeeling way before, so I became a goody-two shoes after my second one.

 
These were things that we knew would land us in trouble, earning a spanking over the knee:

* Disrespect (back talk, sassing, vulgar language)
* Violating our curfew
* Showing disrespect toward teachers or other adults in charge
* Drinking/Smoking/Drugs
* When we were teenagers, allowing a member of the opposite sex to go behind our closed bedroom door
* Violating the law (our daddy is a police officer)
* Being Contrary- This meant defying our parents. If we were told not to do something and we did it anyway. I guess my parents thought of this as willful disobedience.
* Lying
* Skipping school

My brother, sister, and I understood that if we violated any of these rules we would have to go over mom or dad's knee for a spanking. The way were spanked depended on our age, level of understanding, and the offense. We didn't get real over the knee spankings until we were around 4. We started getting spanked at age 2, but it was usually a swat or two on our clothed behind.

When we started school we started going over the knee for hand spankings, usually over our clothes. If our parents thought what we did was especially naughty, we get our pants lowered for our spanking. I got two of these spankings from my mom, and never got bare butt spanked by my dad. My brother and sister were older and received more bare bottom spankings than I did. When we were around 10, my dad started using his belt. He gave us belt spankings over our clothes or underwear. I stayed out of trouble, so I never experienced a bare bottom, belt spanking from my dad. He gave my sister and brother a couple for serious offenses.

# of spanks- When we were really little it was 1 or 2 swats. When we turned four and started going over the knee, the spanking would range from 5 to 10 swats (usually clothed bottom- bare on occasion). After age 10, daddy usually gave us around 15 licks. He never gave more than that. I've actually counted some of my swats. We never had our butts blistered. My parents used to threaten that, but to them it was just a warning phrase. My father frequently encountered child abuse cases. We got our bottoms warmed to a shade of pink. We NEVER had marks or bruises. Our father used to say that a spanking should hurt a little, and teach a lot. Our mom used to say that we were made with a butt for a reason - when kids were unruly it was meant to be spanked.


 
This spanking happened when I was 9 years-old. It was a weekend and my mom and dad were both home. I was acting out and being a real turkey. I wasn't being very respectful to my parents. My dad had given me several warnings to watch my mouth and behave myself. I pushed my limits and sassed him. Before I knew it I found myself over my dad's knee. I felt him tug my pants down. He used his hand to spank me over my panties. Even if it was just his hand he could really spank hard. I was bawling and crying during my spanking. I heard the door rattle a little. We lived an old house, so it was easy to hear people coming in and out. The way our front door was positioned it was easy to see directly into our living room. Much to my horror, after I heard the rattling of our door, I lifted my head to notice my 12 year-old brother and three of his hockey buddies standing in the hallway watching my spanking. I lowered my head again and my dad continued to slap my butt. Watching my spanking must have been great entertainment for the group of 12 year-old boys.

The boys didn't stick around that long. I think they were afraid that my dad would get after them. When he finished spanking me, I quickly pulled up my pants and ran to my room to cry. Unfortunately, my room was next to my brother's so his friends saw me running to my room. They chuckled as I ran by. It wouldn't have been that embarrassing if my brother was alone, after all he's seen some of my bare bottom spankings when I was younger. I was mortified that his obnoxious friends saw my panty clad bottom.

I was teased by those guys about the spanking occasionally throughout many years. When I started high school, my brother and his friends were seniors. One of the more obnoxious of the guys said, "If you get in trouble and earn a spanking, can I watch?"


 
I was being a little brat to my two older sisters and my mom kept telling me to stop and behave. She started to really get upset and said I would get a good hard spanking if I did one more naughty thing. Well guess what I did? I tripped my sister and she fell down. She was fine but my mother was crazy mad. She grabbed me and dragged me to the nearest restroom. Well the bathroom was all full so my mom found the nearest bench, sat down, pulled me onto her lap and pulled my skirt up and my panties down. She got her trusty little paddle out of her purse and went about spanking me pretty darn hard. I was wailing by the time she was finished and people were definitely looking but my mom didn't care. She said that I had been naughty and I had had what was coming to me. The next time I got a spanking at the mall, my mom took me out to our car and paddled me bare in the back seat!

 
My grandmother had a beautiful set of teapots and teacups. She had cabinets that had glass on the front to show her collection. I wanted so badly to see those pretty teapots and teacups. I climbed onto the counter to get a better look. BIG MISTAKE! While I was climbing I knocked over two of my grandmother's delicious homemade apple pies. Those beautiful, aromatic pies fell to the floor, and oozed out onto the linoleum. My grandmother had heard the racket and came running in the kitchen. I jumped off the counter and tried to say I was sorry to my grandmother. Before I knew it I was over my grandma's knee, getting my skirt flipped up for a spanking. Grandma used a wooden spoon on my pantied bottom. She raised a lot of kids of her own, so I think she had the wrist movement down. The spanking I received from her hurt worse than some I received from my mom.

On a happier note, later that evening my grandma held me in her arms and apologized. She said, she shouldn't have gotten so upset over the pies. I snuggled with my grandma. That was the first and only grandparent spanking I did and ever would receive.


 
Once when I was eleven or twelve, three of us went over to another girl's doorstep to see if she could come out and play with us. When we rang the doorbell her mother came to the door. She told us that Mary couldn't come out just then because Mary had just gotten into big trouble with her father and was "being punished." But she told us that she would let Mary know we were there once Mary's unspecified "punishment" was over, and told us we were welcome to wait on the porch for Mary if we wanted to. Mary would probably be ready to come out in a little while if she wanted to see us. We said we would wait, and we mostly sat in silence exchanging glances with each other. Mary's mother hadn't said what kind of punishment Mary was getting, but if it only took a few minutes there was little doubt.

When poor Mary came out her face was deeply flushed and her eyes were swollen and red from crying, although her face was dry and looked as if she had just washed it. She was not in a good mood and none of us wanted her to think we were making fun of her or anything like that. But when one of the other girls said, "We're all so sorry you got punished, Mary," in a very sympathetic way, that made Mary feel comfortable enough to complain to us about what had happened.

At first she just said that her father had spanked her, and that she was very mad at him because it wasn't fair. Each of us told her that we got spanked too. We said this not because any of us particularly liked to talk about it, but because we all wanted to comfort her by saying that what had happened to her also happened to us too. The more we sympathized, the more Mary, in a tone of deep resentment towards her father, described in more detail what her father had just done. And as she did, one or more of us would chime in with something similar that our parents had done to punish us too, to let Mary know that we appreciated what she had gone through. I didn't enjoy revealing details of how I got spanked but I was quite interested in learning about how my friends' parents spanked them.

I don't remember what Mary had done to get into trouble, only that she strongly believed she shouldn't have been spanked for it, and certainly not on her bare bottom, in the bathroom, hard, with her father's belt. I do remember saying that my father used his belt to spank me too sometimes and that it hurt something awful so I knew just how bad Mary's spanking must have been for her. But I didn't mention that my father never did this on my bare bottom - I didn't want to make Mary feel worse about what had just happened to her rather than better.

After awhile, Mary's mood had visibly brightened and she was more like her usual self. When she began talking about other things, no one said another word about spankings that afternoon. It is always a blessing to have friends who support you that way!
 


 
I met a bright-eyed, cheerful little girl my own age who lived on the same block as my relatives, and we instantly became friends. I don't remember how the subject of spankings arose except that I am sure it was she who first brought it up because I don't think I would have done so. I do remember that the subject came up the very first afternoon we met.

I was always very interested in how hearing about how other children got spanked, but didn't enjoy talking about my own spankings because they were an awkward, unhappy subject for me. This little girl showed no such reticence and gladly volunteered details about how her mother spanked her and what sorts of behavior earned her this momentous punishment. When she saw that I didn't deem this subject boring or dumb, she warmed to her topic and after awhile began peppering me with questions also about how discipline was handled in my family. When I was reluctant to tell her too many details at first about how I was spanked, how often, and for what reasons, she said she would answer my questions only if I answered the same ones. So I told her what she wanted to know, and then it would be my turn to ask her a question again. I still remember some of what she told me about how her mother disciplined her, including a time when she ran away from her mother and hid when told she was going to be spanked - something I wouldn't have dared dream of doing with my mother. I also remember that some of the times when I told her about when I had gotten a spanking, she wanted to reenact the whole event with me playing the part of my parent and she playing the part of me. We both enjoyed this game very much.


 
Dad and mom took us kids shopping for school clothes and then for groceries after. At the time my brother was 8, my sister was 6, and I was 5; we are very close in age.

While we were at the grocery store my sister put some candy in her pockets. I was only 5 years-old and from the time we were old enough, our parents had drilled it in our heads that stealing was wrong. We were taught the same thing in Sunday school. Even though, I was young, I remember being surprised that she'd do that.

Dad and mom had a cart full of groceries and we were all ready to go. We left the store and I thought my sister got away with stealing. Keep in mind in 1977, they didn't have fancy scanners or monitoring devices. Just as we were about to drive off, dad caught my sister eating some candy. He asked our mom if she bought us candy. Mom said she didn't. Dad turned around and asked my brother and me if we also had candy. We shook our heads. All eyes were on my sister. Dad asked her where she got the candy and she nervously said, "Auntie ***** gave it to me." That's our dad's younger sister who had watched us the day before. Dad didn't believe her and asked her to empty her pockets. My sister didn't want to and dad said she'd better do it or he'd do it for her. She took several pieces of candy. Dad asked her again where she got it from and this time she just broke out crying. Dad told us to wait and he marched my sister back in the store to return the candy and apologize. When they entered our vehicle again dad said, "You are going to get it when we get home." My sister cried all the way home.

When we got home my brother went outside to play and my mom suggested that I do the same. I was looking for one of my toys to take out when I heard my dad call my sister. I knew she was going to get a spanking. I quit looking for the toy and was curious as to what was going to happen. I was pretty little, so I could be fairly inconspicuous. I remember my sister crying and walking toward dad. Dad put her across his knee and pulled her pants and panties down. I found this very shocking because he'd never spanked me like that. He spanked my sister's bare bottom with his belt. She was still pretty little, so I remember her spanking didn't last very long. My dad didn't use his belt on us until we were around 10, and up until then, I don't remember him baring any of our bottoms for a spanking. He must have saw stealing and lying together as offenses that earned a bare bottom, belt spanking. As soon as my sister's panties and pants went up again, I was out the door.

My sister got a real spanking (and a hard one) for stealing and trying to lie about it. She was only 6 years-old, so he didn't give her that many swats with the belt. I think he wanted to scare into never stealing again. I believe it worked. It also scared me.


 
How boring can it be to travel with your parents who drive miles to see some relative that you don't know and all they do is talk all along the way about the last time they saw them?

As a child, you're restless, uninterested, bored, and the fact that my brother just SHOVED me makes me want to SHOVE him back and then when corrected by mom, he PINCHES me, I YELL and PINCH him back, he YELLS that I PINCHED him, and I tell mom that HE STARTED IT, then he says NO, SHE STARTED IT!
...
No wonder there are so many roadside spankings.


 
My mom, two sisters, 5, and 7 and myself, 7, along with a family friend, and her 4 kids, ages 5, 6, 8, and 12 had been driving for hours, and started looking for a camp site. My twin and I, as well as our friend's 3 youngest kids were getting restless, and getting loud. Both moms told us to settle down, several times. After several warnings, my mom whispered to her friend, who nodded, and then climbed into the back with us kids. She then sat on the back seat, bared the bottoms of her 5, 6, and 8 yr.old, and spanked each of them over her knee with her hand. She then looked into the rear view mirror, and my mom nodded to her. She then ordered my sister and I to do the same. We both looked up towards the front and our mom told us we'd better do as she says before she had to pull over. Needless to say there were a lot of unhappy kids with sore bottoms for the rest of that day's part of our trip.

 
My mom believed in occasionally spanking our bare bottoms. Out of the three children in my family, I was the only one who never yet had to bare my bottom when spanked by my dad. He saved bare bottom ones for serious offenses.

I had skipped several classes and was caught. What made it worse was I tried to downplay some details (lie). My dad took off his belt and told me to pull my pants and panties down for that spanking. I had never been spanked bare by my dad and wasn't about to be. I pleaded with him to let me keep my panties up. I told him he could give me more swats with the belt. My panties stayed up, but I got a licking I still remember 21 years later. I think he did spank harder because I refused to bare my bottom.


 
Parents and other caregivers should teach kids the skills to cope with pain. Lamaze and other birthing training programs are very good at this. Needles and other medical procedures can seem overwhelmingly painful to a sensitive child. I recall once saying I would rather be dead than get a tetanus shot. (This was before I learned to deal with needles!) Breathing techniques, distracting music, squeezing a rubber ball, even chewing gum. All these help. I think these things aren't taught because they could also be used for the pain induced by a spanking. And parents want that pain to seem overwhelming.

 
Mom had a horrid old wooden backed hairbrush which had been handed down by her own mother, having apparently been well used many years earlier on the bottom cheeks of Mom and her own two sisters when they were teens. My sister and I were therefore at least the second generation in the family to "benefit" from that brush, and it had definitely lost none of its sting over the years!

 
My mother inherited a strap which family lore attributed to my great-grandmother. She was supposed to have had it made by a shoemaker for spanking her children. It was two strips of dark brown leather sown together about 18 inches long and three wide. It had a tapered end for a handle. The family tradition was that the strap should be used on disobedient kids from first grade onward. Before that time, spankings were by hand over mother's knee. After six, her strap was used over her knee until the spankee got too big for over the knee spankings. Then we had to lie bent over the bed kneeling on the floor, and her strap was applied on our bare behinds with mother standing. The theory was that a spanking was effective when the behinds were red from upper cheeks to middle thighs, and the offender was crying profusely. Consequently, they had always to be bare behind spankings.

 
My sister and I were fighting in the car and my parents had told us to stop or else. We didn't so the or else happened. The next parking bay they came to they pulled in.  My mum grabbed me and dad grabbed my sister (I think because we were sitting behind them) yanked us over to the table and bench, yanked down my panties and put me over her knee and started to spank me hard and fast.  My sister got the same treatment from my dad.  It was over in less than a minute but it sure hurt and then we had to sit on those sore bums for about another hour until we got to our destination. But no more fighting was heard from the back seat, just two girls whimpering.

 
I remember being spanked at a drive-in -- the kind where the someone brings you your order wearing rollerskates. I haven't seen one of these in 40+ years. I was 5 or 6 years old. I'm pretty sure what got me in trouble is I wanted to be in the front seat, but it was my sister's turn so I'd probably been kicking the seat or things like that. (In those days not only did kids sit up front we often didn't have seat belts.) I recall I was across my Mom's lap in the back seat getting my bare bottom spanked when our our tray of food arrived. The waitress hung it on the window and my Mom had to pause and find her purse on the floor and pay for our food while keeping me on her lap. She then went right back to spanking me. I don't recall the waitress commenting, but I do recall a little boy in the next car peering through his window at us.

 
Wooden, brown with a broad flat oval shaped back. Bristles a light brown colour but somewhat past their best - not a problem as the brush had long since stopped being used to attend to anyone's hair. It's most important attribute for Mum was that sturdy flat back, and that had lost none of its sting - as my own bottom and that of my sister could testify.
My sister and I had huge respect for "that" hairbrush. Mum would build its reputation up, too with comments such as "the hairbrush will teach you not to come home late young lady" or "the hairbrush will remind you not to answer me back". The hairbrush was a very effective teacher. In between spankings it lived in Mum's bedroom and yes, there were times when I was alone in the house and saw it there and was very tempted to dispose of it. I never did, and in hindsight what would have been the point, because I'm sure Mum would have found another to take its place.

 
I can only recall being spanked bare bottom once in my life and that was from my mom. I must have been 8 years old at the time. The reason for it, I was allowed to ride my bike around our neighborhood, however; certain places were off limits, one of those being the food store that was maybe a half mile from our home.  Though not far to get to you had to cross the main street through town, which was normally pretty busy. Well that day I did ride my bike there and I really don't remember my reason for doing so. When I returned home with a soda pop in hand, I never realized that my mom might wonder where that came from, and when I told her, she was pretty upset. After our talk and my mom was ready to end it with the punishment she did something she had never done before and I actually never even thought about her doing.  She took my pants and my panties down and put me over her lap, and preceded to spank with the butter paddle. I think I was more stunned than embarrassed or even mad about this, since it had never happened before. I guess she really wanted the point to be gotten that day.
I am sure the reason my pants came down was due to all the possible things that could have happened to me on my little journey to the store and back. As far as the butter paddle I don't think it was that big, maybe about 6 inches in all and the stirring part was fairly wide. I have sometimes wondered why my mom had this or where she got it from.  As far as I know she never made butter.

 
This topic is tricky and a sore (no pun intended) subject with me. My mom (only, never my dad) gave us some bare bottom spankings when we were ages 5-8. She used her hand only and only gave them when she deemed serious enough misbehavior. I totally disagree with what she did and she knows it. She could have spanked my panties or pants and gotten the same tearful effect. I don't bring it up to her anymore because I used to and she felt terrible about it. When I was in college and taking child psych I confronted her and made her feel bad for spanking me at all, let alone pulling my pants and underwear down. I've grown up well and realize she just did what she thought was best, but parents to be should think twice about this. Why do it at all? If you have to spank, you should know well that a spanking on pants or underwear especially, stings like crazy by itself...so why bare them?

 
When I was young, my mom immediately dragged me to the bathroom. (This was usually where she spanked me, although she did administer spankings in other rooms of our house as well.) Once we were in, she closed the door. She put down the lid of the toilet, and sat down, then she made me sit down on her lap. She explained in a calm voice what I did wrong, and why I was going to be getting a spanking. Then, she would turn me over her knee. I remember her taking off my shoes, followed by my pants. We had long struggles with my panties, and in the end, I always lost. Of course, from the moment that I was told that I would be getting a spanking, I would cry and beg, and do everything possible to avoid a spanking, but nothing ever worked. I remember looking down at the tiled bathroom floor, noticing my pants, panties, and shoes in a messy heap as they brushed against the edge of the toilet.
When I grew older, my mom usually took me to my bedroom. As soon as she entered the room, she said, "I am going to give you a very hard, hard spanking for..." As she was telling me that, we had battles over my pants and panties. Again, I would lose, and it would end up being more embarrassing because I was always in positions so awkward, while my mom was struggling to take them off of me. I remember a few times, lying on the bed with my legs in the air, frantically trying to keep my panties up. After I lost, my mom was able to maintain a grip, and pull me over her lap for a very long spanking. When I was older, I tried to promise that I wouldn't cry before the spanking, but I always did. Before my spanking began, I noticed the hardwood floors of the bedroom floor, and I was always self-conscious as to which of my siblings might be listening.
If I had really misbehaved, I usually had to wait in my bedroom for my father to come home from work. Then, he would approach me and yell at me for being a bad girl. From there, he either told me to turn over his knee in my bedroom, or he marched me up to my parents' bedroom and told me, "Turn over my knee."
When I began to cry, he said, "Knock those tears off. I'm going to give you something to cry about!" If I struggled with keeping my pants and panties up during my spanking, I was told thatmy spanking would be harder and longer, so that usually kept me from putting up too much of a fight. Usually my dad continued to scold me about my behavior even after I was over his knee. I remember crying and begging him not to spank me, and I always lost.

 
I was spanked at the doctors office. My older sister had to go in because she had strep throat. My eldest sister and I stayed out in the waiting room. My mom came out and I was pushing my oldest sister and being a pest. My mother told me to stop and sit quietly. Of course I didn't. I was throwing a fit and being bratty and my mom got sick of it and said that was it. She took me to the bathroom and pulled my pants and panties down and spanked me about 10 times with her hand and she said that that wasn't the end. After we got home she had my sisters go outside or up to their rooms or something. Then she told me to go up to my bedroom and wait for her up there. When she came up, she sat on my bed, pulled me over her lap, and pulled my pants and panties down again. She had a rubber spatula and slapped me with it for about a minute and I was wailing.

 
Little girls tend to think of spanking as one of the worst things that could happen. I think girls experience more embarrassment from spankings even at a younger age. Girls can also hold grudges. When my sister and I were spanked we were quiet and pouty for a while. The last thing we would do is hug or get affectionate with our spanker. I remember my parents trying to hug or kiss my sister an hour or so later, and we'd still be mad.

 
I always held a grudge against my Mom for quite some time after being spanked. She would always try to hug me and talk to me within 40 minutes of being spanked, but I always felt very angry with her for hurting and humiliating me like that. Once my real anger subsided, then a genuine feeling of embarrassment would set in. It always seemed like it would take a couple of days before I was fully emotionally recovered from her spankings.

 
In my early childhood, I was spanked by my parents, but not on my bare bottom. When I was 8, my mom joined a fundamentalist Christian church and became good friends with the pastor's wife.
Shortly thereafter, my mom sat down with me one evening along with my dad and explained that she had had several discussions with the pastor's wife about discipline and that she and dad decided that all my future spankings would be administered on my bare bottom. Naturally I protested and asked why, but mom indicated that the decision had been made and that the reason was so my spankings would hurt more. I can still remember the humiliation I felt when I received my first bare bottom spanking.

 
We had a very nice 16 year old who babysat for us. My parents gave her permission to spank us if need be. She was very nice and didn't usually spank us. But one night, I was in a bad mood because I had gotten a spanking from my mom for being naughty before she got there. I wasn't minding her and after about 2 hours listening to me whine and complain and not doing what I was told, she said that I was going to get a good spanking. I ran from her but she caught me and went to sit in a nearby chair. She pulled me over her lap and pulled my skirt up and panties down. She just used her hand for about 5 or 6 spanks. She told my parents that she had to spank me and I got it much worse from my mom later that evening. She pulled down my pj bottoms and used her wooden spoon. I probably got about 10 swats. OUCH!

 
We had one of those big windows - we always called it a picture window. Getting spanked in our living room was kind of like being on display because you knew the neighbors could see every swat on your bare bottom. Sometimes if they suspected you were about to get a spanking many of the neighborhood kids would all stand right out on the street in front of our house so they could watch. So I have to say there weren't too many of the neighbors, both kids and adults, who didn't see getting my bare fanny spanked.

 
My younger sister was never a "morning person." Sally was usually grumpy and hard to get along with in the mornings -- being the baby of the family, Becca and I thought she was quite spoiled anyway. Frequently when she started school at age 6 she could "earn" a taste of Mama's switch as result of her attitude and obstinance after only being awake a short while. 
This was during the years that we walked to school with other friends on our street. There were mornings that Sally left the house with red, tear stained face and bottom lip poked out a mile after a morning spanking.
The switch was my mother's instrument of choice. She usually cut a fresh one from the fragrant tea olive bushes that grew along the fence in our backyard. I don't recall ever being sent to cut my own. 
When my sisters and I were young -- don't remember an age when we were first spanked with her switch, possibly, age 4 until around age 8 -- mother would just grab our hands and switch mostly our legs, which were exposed under dresses or shorts. Usually we would do the "dance" in a circle around her trying to avoid contact with her switch. The thing stung like hell and Mama did not seem to care that it left stripes on our legs. These spankings were usually for arguing with each other or talking back to Mama and took place wherever we happened to be in our house and sometimes our yard.
As older children, Dad was the one who administered our spankings usually at the direction and witness of our mother. He used his belt and we had to bend over the side of the bed or desk. The target changed at that time from our bare legs to our buttocks and backs of our thighs.
There were times when I was spanked along with my two sisters, one older and one younger. If we were all "getting it", we would all three be in our parents' bedroom and usually my younger sister would be first. She would get her spanking as my older sister and I were there and could watch. When her spanking was over, she would be sent to bed. I would usually be next, so I rarely saw my older sister spanked. Anytime I was waiting in line, however, my sisters' spankings did not really interest me -- I was more concerned about my own appointment with the switch or belt.
There was a definite time when corporal punishment in our household changed from the spontaneous to a more formal event. My sisters and I seemed to think "the change" coincided with a parenting seminar weekend held at our neighborhood church -- several of my friends reported similar changes in their home too. I was about 9 years old with sisters 7 and 12. At this point, it seemed my mother was the one who decided spanking was necessary, but Dad did the actual spanking. (This meant a lot of times we had to "wait til our father got home"). The event would take place in the master bedroom, usually with both our parents present.
I am not sure my parents ever counted the number of licks we were given -- I am certain I didn't. They never announced that I was going to get a certain number of licks. I think probably most of my spankings with the belt consisted of maybe 5 to 8 licks. I do know that if I was still obviously defiant in my screams and pleas for my spanking to stop, my parents didn't feel they had done the proper job. Spankings were usually slow and deliberate and lasted until my crying was truly a sign of remorse.
Most of the time, I was spanked with my panties in place. I can't imagine my thin nylon or cotton panties offered any protection from the switch or belt. The stripes or welts could definitely be seen through them. There were only a few times that I was instructed to take them down or off and I never asked why, but I think it was to designate a "more serious" spanking. It definitely added to my humiliation, submission factor! During the time I was growing up and getting spanked, girls had to wear dresses to school. I remembered being instructed to hold my dress up and out of the way. If I was wearing wool pants or jeans, they were to be removed.
I was a junior in high school when I got my last spanking. It was for cutting school with friends and then lying to my parents about it when we got caught. That was also probably the most severe spanking I ever got. Quite an ugly scene! I was defiant in thinking and verbalizing I was too old to have my fanny spanked by my father with a belt and he was determined I was going to submit to what he had in mind to dish out. I was in that master bedroom for what seemed like forever, across their bed in my T-shirt and panties, expected to stay in position and accept my punishment. I took maybe three licks and got up, declaring that was enough. Dad assured me he had hardly begun and he left the room for a while to give me the chance to compose myself and probably to deal with his own anger at my defiance too. When he returned, he lectured some more and ordered me back across their bed. I don't remember how many times he had to stop and start again but by the time we were done, I had been spanked into submission.

 
I do remember a before-church spanking. My mother had me wear a short dress to church (who remembers the old ruffle seated panties?) so the other children could see her hand prints on my upper thighs so I was teased mercilessly for getting a spanking. Mother found my behavior not up to scratch during the sermon so I earned a 'would you like me to take you out and spank you again' harsh whisper, the elderly couple heard Mother and I was blushing a shade of red similar to my bottom.

 
I took my kids to visit my former boss's children... We walked in and her daughter (11 at the time) ran up to my daughter and gave her a big hug, telling her how much she was looking forward to seeing her again. Then she looked at me and said, "Get out of my house." Her mother told her, "now honey it isn't appropriate to speak to another adult that way, and I think you should apologize to Ashley's father." She just looked at her mother and said, "WHATEVER!" I told her right in front of her mother, if she were my daughter and she ever talked to me or another adult like that I would pull her pants down, turn her over my knee and blister her bare fanny. The following Monday at work her mother and I were having lunch together (as we often did) and she asked me, "Don't you think you're a little strict with your children?" I asked why and she asked me, "Do you really spank your children's bare bottoms?" I said, "Yes, when I feel it's needed, and they don't need it very often."

 
My mother's sister was always telling my mother she should be more strict with us. She constantly told her unless she really started "cracking down" on us, we were never going to amount to anything. She constantly spanked her kids. I don't think a single week went by where all three of them didn't get their bare bottoms spanked at least once. She, even at an early age, wouldn't hesitate to take a flyswatter, belt, or razor strop to her kids. She demanded her children make straight A's or she would take her razor strop to their bare bottoms. She never hesitated to whip them for even the slightest problem, and when I say whip, I mean whip. There were several times I saw bruises on their butts after spankings.
Unfortunately their super strict upbringing had the opposite effect from what their mother intended.

 
It was on a Saturday morning. My little sis and I had been playing together. I was getting irritated with her because she kept undressing the dolls that I was trying to dress up and make pretty. I yelled at her, and she started crying. Our Mom came up and screamed at me to act my age. "Your Sister is a lot younger than you, and she doesn't understand!" Then my Mom gently told my Sister to please not undress all the dolls. Everything was alright. We went back to playing. 

We decided to go outside and play in the back yard. It was a hot summer day, and we had a bunch of toys in the yard. Our driveway ran along the side of our house and went all the way to the backyard. My Sis was riding her little tricycle. She turned too sharp and tipped over rather hard and bumped her head on the pavement. She immediately started to scream and cry. I ran right over to her to try to help her up. My Mom came running out the back door, and all she saw was my Sis laying on the ground crying, the tricycle on its' side and me standing nearby. Mom picked my Sis up and comforted her and held her. She said very sternly,"Mia, go to your room right now!" I tried to interrupt her, but she put my Sister down and started leading me into the house, where I was dragged up to my room. I kept trying to tell Mom that I didn't do anything to her, but she was scolding me so loud that her voice overpowered mine, and before I knew it, I was face down over her lap getting a bare bottom spanking. 

By the time my spanking was over, I was crying so hard, that I couldn't even try to explain myself again. Besides, she wasn't asking for any explanation. I was left laying face down on my bed sobbing. After a little while of laying there, I heard the telephone ring. I assumed it was my Dad or one of Mom's friends calling to talk with her. A little while later, Mom came into my room, and closed the door behind her. She sat on the edge of my bed. She had tears in her eyes. She spoke softly. "Mia, I just recieved a phone call from Mr. DiBello." Mr. DiBello was a neighbor whose backyard joined ours. A small chain link fence was the only thing dividing the two yards. It turned out that Mr. DiBello was out working in his garden when my Sis fell off the tricycle. He called up to make sure that she was alright. He told Mom that Lisa had taken quite a spill. Mom told him that "Mia has been properly punished for pushing her little Sister off that tricycle." Mr. DiBello told her that I had not pushed Lisa off the tricycle. He saw the whole thing, and it was just an accident. She turned too sharply and flipped over.

Mom told me how sorry she was. She tried to hug me, but I was not in the forgiving mood. I think Mom understood how I was feeling, so she told me that we would talk again later, but in the meantime told me to try to realize that Moms make mistakes sometimes too, and if she could take it all back, she would in a second. I stayed in my room still feeling mad and very hurt. When lunchtime came, Mom came back to my room. She sat down next to me on my bed and she started to talk to me again. "Mia, I'm so ashamed of how I jumped to conclusions this morning and ended up breaking your heart. I would give anything to be able to undo the hurt I've caused you, and I promise from now on, I'll always let you tell me your side of the story before I punish you." I looked in her face, and there was tears in her eyes again. I wrapped my small arms around her. She scooped me up onto her lap and hugged me and told me that she loved me with all her heart. 
Spankings didn't happen all that often in our house, but when one of us got spanked, it was a big deal. To me, getting a spanking from Mom was one of the worst things that could possibly happen in my little world. My Mom knew that, so she really felt bad about falsely accusing me and then spanking me.


 
Out of all the things we kids could do as far as my mother was concerned lying was the worst. We may or may not get spanked for breaking her rules but being caught in a lie meant an instant spanking. Knowing this my brother would often try to blame me for things he'd done. Of course since I didn't do it I would deny it. My mother would finally decide the only way to get to the bottom of it would be to spank both of us. There were several occasions when he'd do something he'd tell me, "you better hope mom doesn't find out, because if I get in trouble I'm taking you with me." There were even a few occasions where I'd just go ahead and own up to what he was blaming me for and hope I'd get off without a spanking. However, sometimes she'd go ahead and spank me, not knowing I was innocent, and my brother would be standing there grinning watching me get my bare butt spanked.
He and I did not have the best of relationships. He was a mean spirited bully even into our adult lives. When he died of cancer 16 years ago there was still a wall of resentment between us. Sometimes when my mother talks about what a good boy and man he was I just tell myself "if she only knew..."

 
Until I was about ten all my spankings were administered with my own hairbrush, which was made of dark blue plastic. I have very, very curly hair and when I was about ten, and very shortly after I had been spanked, I seem to remember, I decided to get an "afro-comb" like my friend, who had permed hair, had. I quietly disposed of the hairbrush after I bought the comb. My mom simply laughed when she saw I'd got rid of the hairbrush, and said did I think she didn't have one, but after that I was never spanked with the hairbrush again - Dad started to use the slipper for every spanking he gave me, he said he'd done the same with the boys when they were about my age, and Mom spanked me with her hand, but for far longer. By this stage, spankings were for real serious bad behaviour, so I guess the longer, harder spankings were justified. One week, when I was about 11, I got four spankings - three from Mom, one from Dad - I was going through an angry, rebellious stage, and I have to admit I deserved every single one of them!
I was thirteen when I got my last spanking - from my mother. Either one of my parents, usually whoever I had offended in the first place, would give me my  spanking. But on that last occasion, it was my mother. I think I was glad it was not Dad - he always used a slipper, whereas my mother usually used just her hand, and made up for not using the slipper by spanking longer! Spankings were usually administered in my bedroom, but sometimes in the living room, and once in the kitchen - which I found most embarrassing because there was a big window looking out onto our back garden, where two of my brothers were playing. One of my brothers, when I was very small, told me the best way to make a spanking end quicker was not to kick or struggle too much - I tried to follow his advice about the struggling, but I still howled my head off!

 
Sis and I were expected to not reach back and to stay in place with the underlying threat that otherwise it would be worse. When we bent over the foot end of the bed in the master bedroom we would have to stretch our arms forward and I would dig my fingers into the bedspread, close my eyes and try to hold on. I do remember one time though when I was about 11/12 and got my only spanking ever where I didn’t wear a skirt and got it so bad that I jumped up and completely off the scaffold and stood with my knickers and shorts around my ankles refusing to bend back over. Father literally had to force me down and put his foot or hand on the small of my back to keep me in place. This was probably my hardest spanking. I had been patronizing a young member of staff in the family business which was one of the worst things we could do. He heard it as did a number of others as the bedroom was just above the workshop and afterwards I had to go down and shake his hand, drop a curtsey and apologize to him.

 
My mom gave most of our spankings, always on our bare bottoms. My father rarely ever spanked us, and usually when he did. However you were dressed at the time was how you got it. Mom would fuss and yell a lot but dad could give you a look that could freeze a lake in mid-summer. When he would bark out your name, sometimes it would scare me so bad I would almost wet myself... He's overall a very gentle guy but he could be a very intimidating when he had to. Dad's spankings were a lot harder than mom's. The two bare bottom spankings I got from him (one by hand and one with a belt) were worse than any spankings I got from mom. In fact my only spanking I ever had that left marks the next day was the bare bottom belting I got from dad.

As much as mom's spankings hurt and as embarrassing as they were, I would much rather have her spank my bare bottom than to have my dad give me one over the seat of my pants.

My brother and sister felt the same way... One time when my sister was thirteen or fourteen she had played mom and dad against each other... you know the game, asking mom if she could do something and being told no, then asking dad and he would ask, "what did your mother say?" My sister would lie and say "She told me to ask you". So dad would let her, then he and mom would wind up fighting. One day dad finally got wise and when my sister tried it he said, "Well let's go talk to mom about it". Karen knew she'd been busted at that point and tried to beg off. After dad and mom both talked to her, mom said, "Rodney give me your belt." Dad took his belt off and handed it it mom, telling my sister, "When she's done with you it's MY turn." Mom told my sister to pull her jeans and panties down and lean over the kitchen table. Mom gave my now crying sister ten hard licks with dad's belt. Karen started to pull her pants back up and dad said, "No Sissy, just leave em' down we're not done yet." He pulled her across his lap and really burned her bare fanny with his hand. Now as much as she cried when mom spanked her with the belt, she screamed as dad spanked her. 


 
When I was little, I didn't care who spanked me Mom or Dad, but as I got a little older, after the age of about 9 or 10, I definitely had a preference - if I had to get a spanking, I preferred Mom to be the one to do it - it wasn't that it hurt less - she spanked for longer, he spanked harder, so it was about even - it was just that by then, I was feeling embarrassed about being spanked by a man. It was far worse, on the one occasion when my grandfather spanked me. Much as I was screaming from the pain of being spanked, I was absolutely mortified that he was seeing my bottom and spanking it!

 
I grew up with two sisters -- one, 2 years younger and another 3 years older than myself. We did not fight with each other physically, but argued, fussed, tattled on and complained about each other a lot. Many times there would be "undercurrents" going on among us girls for days. We would be warned, threatened with spanking for not getting along or bickering about fairness, etc. This was the case a lot during the summer months when we were all at home with our mother all day. One or all of us would push too far and then we would hear the dreaded "wait til your father gets home". In that case there was not one specific reason for spanking one of us, but since we were all contributing to disharmony in the household, we would all three "get it". 

Dad would come home from work in the afternoon and our mother would fill him in on the events of the day, taking into account the infractions or problems over the course of the week, possibly. They would decide their "plan of action". We would all three be called in from outside play earlier than usual on a summer day. This would raise suspicions of friends, who would ask if we were in trouble and did we think we could come back out to play after dinner. Of course, it struck mortal terror in us because we knew what was coming and there would be no playing outside after supper on that evening and friends would know we were "getting it" since windows were open.

Once inside, we would be instructed to get ready for bed even though it was not even supper time. A quiet chill would take over as we got baths and put on our pajamas. Appetites and conversation were not great during the evening meal and the three of us would do our kitchen chores in total silence, glaring accusingly at each other in blame for getting us all into this mess. Then we would take refuge in our rooms for what was usually not a very long wait before one of our parents would summon us all to their bedroom.

There was always a lecture about our behavior, how we needed to get along and be kind and helpful to each other and our mother. We needed to do a better job with chores, without complaining, etc. and because we were each contributing to an unhappy family environment we would all be given something to help our attitudes, remember how to behave and get along with each other. Then our spankings would begin -- usually in order of our ages beginning with my younger sister.  Dad would use one of the switches cut for the event. Summer pajamas were mostly shorties and always thin cotton batiste, so we were spanked through them as we were instructed to bend over the bed or dresser. As soon as it was over, we could go back to our rooms to bed where our parents would come to tuck us in for the night even if it was still daylight out.


 
When I saw my Mom walking briskly toward me with "that look" on her face, I would immediately sit down on my bottom and try scooting away from her as fast as I could. I usually started crying the moment my Mom grabbed my arm and hauled me over to the nearest sitting down place for her. I was shouting "Please! No! Please!" while being laid across her lap and begging for forgiveness, ("I'm, sorry! I'm sorry!) when my bottom was bared. When her first crack hit, I was really crying hard knowing there was no getting out of it as my pleadings had fallen on deaf ears. When her 3rd or 4th crack landed home and the intense stinging REALLY began, I was howling like a wounded animal and crying all at the same time. When it was over I remember choking down sobs while trying to get back in control. Once I think I cried out "I hate you!" which was a big mistake because I immediately went back over her knee for another round of bottom burning. Never said that again, but I thought it!

 
[One of] my 2 female cousins [got spanked a second time for not submitting to a first spanking] one summer when I was 11 and staying with them.  They were 10 and 13.  They BOTH were summoned by my Aunt after dinner because they rode their bikes across the "highway"(A BIG NO NO) and she had come home and caught them.  After dinner both were taken to the basement den and minutes later the 10 year old was getting the belt (about 20 licks).  And then, as I listened, the 13 year old fussed and carried on (after about 10 licks) so that my Aunt sent her upstairs until my Uncle got home some 45 minutes later.  Then she was again ordered to the den where my Aunt gave her another 30 licks with the belt which by the sounds of it was a lot more severe then if she had just taken her licks the 1st time.  Their whippings were always given over their panties but this one sounded bare.

 
I had received a spanking immediately after breakfast for misbehavior. As I was leaving my parents' bedroom, crying and upset with the world, I discovered my sister outside the door. She had apparently listened, or perhaps peeked inside. She was smiling and started walking backwards down the hall towards our room where I was headed giving me the "shame-on-you" sign. (This is when you point at a person and with the first finger of the second hand make a brushing motion across the pointing finger towards the other person). In anger, I rushed towards her and pushed her causing her to fall backwards into the hall table hitting her head and causing the vase of dried flowers to tumble to the floor and break! My mother had witnessed some part of this and led my crying sister to the kitchen where she wrapped some ice cubes in a dish towel and told her to sit at the table and hold the ice to the bump. Meanwhile, I was crying and telling her that it was all my sister's fault for teasing me. Without saying a word, Mother took me by the arm and marched me back to her room where another spanking would be administered. When we entered her room I went limp and dropped to my knees. I had never fought a spanking before. Mother took my other arm and simply dragged me to her stool and dressing table. The friction of being dragged over the rug caused my pajama bottoms to be pulled down to my knees so when she put me across her knees, my poor little red behind was already bare for her hairbrush. Oh, it hurt so! I stayed in my room all day.

 
We were shopping (back to school time) when I was about seven, and I was being bratty from the word go. By the time we were at the second store, my mother was already getting fed up. She "escorted" me to our car opened the door on the passenger side sat down in the seat and told me to drop my pants and get over her knee. She gave me about a dozen hard swats with her hand, then told me to pull up my pants. She gave me a few minutes to calm down before we went back in the store. I was still sulking when we went in but pretty much behaved the rest of the time we were in that store. We were in the next store and after a short time I started up again. She told me to settle down but I wasn't having any part of it. I started to smart off to her. She tried to be patient with me telling me we would be done soon, and I popped off saying "yeah sure we will". She told me to watch my mouth and I said, "What'cha gonna do spank me again?" As soon as those words came from my mouth I knew I was gonna get it, but good. Mom grabbed me by the arm and fast marched me to the nearest dressing room. Once inside she locked the door, sat on the bench then unfastened my pants and yanked them along with my underwear down to my knees. Telling me, "You will NOT talk to me like that ever!" She yanked me across her lap and gave me a long hard spanking. I don't know how many times she smacked my butt, but I can say it was one of the longest spankings I ever had. I was sitting on the floor with my pants and underwear around my ankles crying and rubbing my butt, and she informed me I was going to get another spanking the minute we got home. Then she walked out of the dressing room. I walked out embarrassed that everybody in the store was looking at me knowing I'd been spanked. I rubbed my sore behind and sniffled as we finished shopping. Once we got home, true to her word, Mom took me into the living room made me bare my bottom again for my third spanking of the day. After that last spanking before sending me to my room, mom informed me, "If you EVER act like that in public again, I will take a belt and BLISTER your BARE ASS till you can't sit for a week. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" I nodded and then ran to my bedroom crying all the way. At that point my bottom was already sore from my three spankings, and even though I had only been hand spanked up to that point. The thought of getting it with a belt terrified me (of course I didn't get my first belt spanking until sometime after my ninth birthday).

 
I along with the rest of the parents in one of the schools my daughter attended received a note from the school telling me that it is up to me to discuss the school's discipline policy with my child, because they are having problems with children, running in the halls, talking too much, and back-talking the teachers. I wrote a note back stating, "You don't even want to know what I think about your discipline policy."  When the teacher asked my daughter what I did think of the discipline policy her response was, "Daddy thinks they should put the BOARD back in the Board of Education."

 
I misbehaved in church one Sunday morning, giggling, talking, passing notes to my friends who I chose to sit with that day, rather than my mother. My Dad was in the choir, so he observed what was going on and gave me a few stern looks when I made eye contact.

My friend asked me to go home with her and her family from church for the afternoon. We went back to the choir room to ask my Dad for his permission. He told me no, that I had to go home because I was "going to get my fanny blistered" for my behavior during the service.

Well, we got home, lunch was prepared and we were eating when my mother decided we needed to go to visit our grandmother who lived about 30 minutes away for the afternoon. My sisters and I cleaned up the kitchen after the meal and at some point we were ready to leave. I just knew that my spanking was not going to happen since a few hours had passed and there had been no mention of it.

However, as we were on our way out of the house to the car, I stopped in my tracks when I felt Dad's hand on my shoulder. He informed me, in front of everyone, that we had "some unfinished business to take care of" and pointed up the stairs. I knew then my spanking had DEFINITELY NOT been forgotten. Dad told Mama and my sisters to wait in the car, that this would not take long, as I climbed the stairs to the master bedroom.

Dad joined me in his bedroom with his belt already removed from his pants and folded in his hand. He instructed me to use the bathroom -- I frequently pleaded having to pee to stop a spanking -- and my parents had gotten in the habit of reminding me to empty my bladder beforehand. I was told I was going to get a "whipping I would remember" for my behavior in church.

He did blister my fanny with that belt as I twisted and writhed to try to escape each blow, bent over the side of his bed. When he was done, he put his belt on and told me I had five minutes to wash my face and get in the car. I whimpered softly most of the trip to my grandmother's house, too ashamed to make eye contact with my sisters or anyone and then sulked the rest of the day.
 


 
I pouted and ignored my mother once after a good session of her applying her paddle to my bottom. This lasted about an afternoon into the evening and when I was drying the dishes for her while she washed I kept it up. She had enough and told me I clearly did not have enough of her paddle earlier and gave me another one. Now I had to stand drying the dishes crying and throbbing. She explained to me once that I deserved spankings for misbehavior and disobedience and should accept it as such and not pout or try to get her back.

 
While we were no doubt curious, no one wanted to admit to the fact they were spanked. I do recall one afternoon while playing dolls at a friend's house, being asked if both or just one parent spanked. I sheepishly replied "both". She then asked which one spanked harder and I answered that my daddy did and asked her the same question. She told me her mother never spanked her. I thought she was lucky until she told me her mother always "tells on me", and that she had to wait until her father came home from work. That was the extent of our conversation, but I could never get over the idea that a spanking wasn't immediate and how terrible it must be to wait and anticipate a spanking.

 
I am the youngest and also the only girl. My older brothers were usually very sympathetic to me when I got spanked or was about to get spanked - unless of course whatever naughty behaviour I was getting spanked for had also annoyed or upset them. I remember a few times when our mother sent me to my room to wait for her, I heard Ben, the second oldest trying to get me out of it, "Oh go on Mom, don't spank her - let her off!" Usually, it didn't work but once or twice she did relent and I was simply to stay quiet in my room for an hour before I was allowed to apologise to the world in general and it was all over.
However, when Dad was going to do the spanking, his resolve was unshakeable - once Ben tried to beg me off it, and Dad thundered something like, "If you don't mind your own business Ben, I'll spank you as well!" - no one ever tried to change Dad's mind after that.
Yes - they were and are still, wonderful brothers - I know one of them still entertains his kids with stories about the things that their naughty aunt Jillie did when she was little, but I think he glosses over the details of what the consequences were back then...!

 
I was nine, nearly ten when my grandfather spanked me. It was over his lap and he used my grandmother's hairbrush. I remember screaming at him while he was trying to put me over his knee (I was struggling, obviously!), "Don't pull them down, don't pull them down!" - but the thing is I think he might have left [my panties] up if I hadn't been making such a fuss and such a noise. I might be wrong about that, but a short time after this happened I was talking to my cousin - a similar age to me - and she admitted that Grandad had spanked her too on another occasion, but not bare. I remember that he was disgusted with me for making such a big deal out of it, and that might have been why he spanked me bare and, it seemed to me, so long and so hard.

 
I went to a Catholic school during these years and the nuns were pretty strict and did not put up with any nonsense. Neither did my parents who both believed that a good spanking was sometimes called for. I only got 5 or 6 spankings a year but when I got one it was memorable. There was an unwritten rule in our house that a note or phone call from the teacher meant a good thrashing. I had about a mile walk home from school in those days and let me tell you those were the longest walks I ever took. All I could think of was the spanking I was gonna get when I got home. Some kids were brave enough to try to forge the notes but I would never dare.
When I was younger I would get a traditional old fashioned pants down hand spanking over mom or dads knee. In the 4th and 5th grades my parents switched to a yardstick. Now I had to lie over the side of my bed to get it. And this yardstick was pretty thick so my bare fanny was a bright pink when my spanking was done. Towards the end of 5th grade my father made a solid oak wood paddle. That paddle really stung and I dreaded getting a spanking more than ever. My parents would use that paddle on my bare behind for the next several years.

 
I was goofing off at school and my grades were suffering. I could not stand this particular teacher and she obviously had no tolerance for me either. (This was fourth grade.) At my father's request, she was to send home a note with me every Friday for the entire 6 week grading period after I brought a report card home with low grades and remarks about my behavior. Mrs. Jones, the teacher, was really picky and gave my parents a detailed account of every single mistake or example of "childish" behavior she observed during the week. She made no secret of the fact that she enjoyed the thoughts of the trouble I would be in at home. I think I was spanked with the belt probably 4 Friday evenings out the 6, but my grades and behavior did improve.
There were lots of other times that teachers either called, saw one of our parents in the grocery store, or sent home notes that resulted in corporal punishment for either myself or one of my sisters. Both my parents were educators and did not tolerate our failure to do our best and behave in school. A bad report from a teacher would result in corporal punishment in our household probably 99.9% of the time.
My mother would generally spank us in our parents' bedroom in private. My father on the other hand would spank us where ever we happened to be in the house. If one of us was to be spanked, he would order the other one out of that particular room. On rare occasions he would march us to our room for a spanking which meant we were really going to get it.

 
I was in fear or dread of getting paddled often in the middle grades 6-8. My 6th grade year was a watershed getting it many times from the Math & science teacher who was very strict and I think got a kick out of paddling us. He heated my bottom several times and I dreaded his class each day. He took me out into the hall each time which was a total fearful experience. He paddled me first for being late and that was the lightest paddling he gave me but yet it stung and burned like blazes. This was the second week of school and the next month he took me out for forgetting to do one of my homework assignments. He said for me to go out into the hall and wait for him and I did walking slow and shaking. he followed soon with his big wood paddle that intimidated me. He then told me to place my hands on the wall which made me be bent over and my rear out. He tapped my back pockets and asked if I had anythng in them and I did not. he then tapped me lightly as it to prepare me facing the wall I tried to be ready but the smack was so hard and caused me to move. This he said " earned" me an extra smack. I had stood up from the sting. 3 more followed he covered my backside fully and I was reduced to sobbing and holding my backside as I walked back into the class. Sitting was uncomfortable and he did not let me cry out loud for long under threat of another trip out. I hated him and his class but made more trips out and each day my nerves were shaky before his class. To make it worse My Mom supported his attitude towards classroom behavior and discipline.When she found out about my paddlings form him she gave me another one at home with her big paddle. So I was nervous much of the time that year.

 
My mothers good friend who watched me some as a child did spank me a few times at her house.  She had a daughter younger than me and the first time she spanked me I argued with her daughter about what she wanted to play and she told on me saying I was not being nice and called her stupid ( I called her game stupid).  Her mother called me in the kitchen and took her wood paddle off the wall where it hung and told me to bend over the chair.  I began to plead and explain I did not call her stupid beginning to cry but she grabbed my arm and bent me over the chair and spanked me very hard and it seemed like a long time. When she stopped I was bawling hard and was told to apologize and play nice.  Later when Mom picked me up she was told of my "need" for a spanking.  Mom told me in the car that I was going to get a good spanking at home for my misbehavior.

 
My Sister and I both were spanked directly on the seats of our panties. When Dad got home from work, we'd get a visit from him. He'd either drop our jeans or lift our dresses. If we were around company we would get a spanking in their presence while having our underpants still in place would allow us modesty.
It wasn't a big deal with Dad seeing our underpants because his spankings ended when we got to be teenagers. 

 
I don't remember exactly how early in my childhood the spankings started but continued till the middle of my puberty and the whole process was almost always the same. As our father was the disciplinarian, at the most cases we were punished by him. I had to lie down on my stomach and after that he raised my dress above my waist while he had already taken off and folded his belt. Without further delaying the whipping of my bottom began, with my panties up, and continued till I was stopped crying or any other reaction detained. The result was inevitably a sore behind that made me feeling more uncomfortable when I tried to sit down for the next hours. Additionally, I have to say that when sometimes I wore cotton shorts at the summer, I got my spankings without my father lowering them. But there wasn't any remarkable difference to the final result on my buttocks.

 
They had a big weeping willow in their back yard, and their mother would whenever she felt it necessary, go out into the yard and cut a switch from that tree to use on their bare bottoms. Willow switches are very thin and whip-like. I had to stand and watch once when she spanked my friend with one. It doesn't take much effort on the spanker's part to raise welts with one of those things. It made me very happy that mom planted the willow tree in her back yard AFTER I'd left home.

 
This was something that happened a couple of times when I when I was about nine or ten - I loved reading, and as long as I was in bed when my parents told me to be, I was usually allowed ten minutes with the lamp on to read before my mother came to kiss me goodnight and switch my light out. The first time I had the bright idea of switching the light back on and carrying on reading for a while, I got away with it. The second time I got caught, and was given a warning - which I decided to ignore. The third time, Mom yanked me right out of bed and straight over her knee - my own hairbrush was within easy reach, so she grabbed it and spanked me hard. You'd think that would teach me, but a week or so later, it was my birthday and one of my presents was a really good flashlight - so it seemed like a good idea to try reading under the covers, with that instead of the lamp. I didn't get away with it for more than a minute before I was discovered, and found myself over Mom's knee as before - but for a much longer, harder spanking that time. I didn't do it again after that!

 
I often was involved in spanking games, and on a couple of occasions got caught. One time my brother and I were caught by our neighbor's mother playing house with her daughters (they were our age). The oldest girl was the "mommy" and my brother was the "daddy" and the other little girl and I were the kids, and they would often pull our pants down and spank our bare bottoms just like our parents did. Our moms caught us and the girls' mother hit the roof. She was getting ready to spank her daughters over it, but my mom talked her out of it. She told her something like, since they all get spanked that way it's normal that that's how they would do it. The suggested we find another game to play and then went back to the kitchen to gossip.
My daughter and some of her friends played spanking games when they were younger. I've caught them on occasion and just suggested that they should either play something else or said, "just remember you're playing, don't hurt each other." One time my daughter stayed the night at a friend's house, I got a call from the other girl's mom. She seemed pretty upset, saying, "I just caught my daughter giving your little girl a spanking, and I didn't know what to do about it." She went on to tell me she heard the noise and when she walked into her bedroom to find my daughter over her daughter's knee with her panties down getting a spanking. I guess she was worried about how I'd react hearing the news. She told me she'd spank her daughter and bring mine home if I wanted her to. I said, "Don't worry about it." then I asked her "When you spank your kids, do you do it bare bottom?" She said, "Well usually that's how I do it." I said, "Well my kids get spanked the same way, so to them that's normal.  So I wouldn't worry about it if I were you as long as they aren't really hurting each other.  If it does bother you though, just suggest they play something else, and go on about your business." She seemed to calm down after that, and we chatted for a little while, talking about our own spanking experiences. Our kids "outgrew" their spanking games eventually.

 
From the ages of 4-8, I got about 25% of my spankings on my bare bottom. While a quick, sound paddling even on jeans stung plenty enough, there is quite a noticeable difference when the spanking was laid down on a soft, un-protected bottom. Those spankings stung beyond belief.
The number of spanks also makes a big difference.
After going over a year (age nine through part of age 10) without spanking, I began going through a period of defiance and rebellion. After several unsuccessful groundings, my parents sat me down and informed me they were going to go back to spanking, and in addition "...from now on they would ALL be "old fashioned" spankings (in our house this was code for bare bottom).
However, I also noticed that at this age the spankings were much more thorough, and I would routinely get what must have been 20+ whacks (and one or two spankings may have involved 30 or so whacks), whereas when I was younger it was rare to get more than 10 whacks.
The spankings I got between age 10-12 were without a doubt the most effective ones of my life, not just because they were on my bare bottom, but also because they lasted far longer than I ever thought I could stand. These resulted in 100% realized punishments that fit the crime.
As a result, I think my parents "righted" me early, and IMHO I was a pretty well-behaved teen (compared to the many defiant, sneaky, and rebellious kids my own age).

 
I would usually be crying before my spanking started and pleading not to get spanked, saying I was sorry, etc... Then when my spanking actually started I was bawling loudly after the first few swats. From about ages eight to 12 I would usually be pleading, and apologizing, and even trying to bargain my way out of my spanking until it started then with the first few swats, I'd yell, saying things like, "NO!" "OWW!" "PLEASE STOP!" "I WON'T DO IT ANYMORE!" etc.. then about half way through I'd start crying. Not as loudly as I did when I was younger but loud enough to be heard outside if the windows were open.

 
My parents did not give us the luxury of being escorted home for a smacking, if we misbehaved in public we got it in public. Mum didn't have her duster but she had her sandal and used that to punish the naughty one. We didn't get bums bared in public but we knew we were smacked when it was done. Daddy liked to take us to the car to give it to us. I remember one time being half dragged in to the ladies changing room to have my bum attended to. It was one of the times when my mum pulled down my knickers and smacked me long and hard. I was not allowed to compose myself after and was escorted out the dressing room still crying. Didn't matter, I'm sure it was heard by anyone nearby. If it wasn't heard, the red areas on my thighs were hard to miss.

 
I was acting up at dads company picnic and causing quite a scene, we were over at the CEO's house when dad came over and jerked me into the house where some of the wives were preparing foods for the grills and snacks and making drinks, dad asked the owners wife if there was any place for him and I to have a private "discussion" and she led us up to a room in the back of the house were I was immediately told to bare my bottom and was over dads knee lickity split getting blistered good. I can only remember after this event wishing the day had of been cut short. I was humiliated because of course everyone knew when I came out holding my behind and trying to hide my red eyes that dad had tanned my fanny. How dreadful that the other kids picked on me and made fun the rest of the day.
I clearly remember the feeling of my dad's grip on me tightening right before that first awful smack and me clenching everything as tight as I could. I sometimes think you might have been able to bounce a coin off my bum.
The smackings I got were far more severe than the smackings my daughter gets. While I don't want to give too many smacks as I believe my dad sometimes did, I can sometimes understand his logic. This morning my daughter gave me a great deal of backchat because she wanted to go to a friends house after school and I told her no because I have not met the parents. I knew she was disappointed and I allowed her to express that but when she said "Mummy, I'm not ever coming home from school" I had heard enough. I put her across my lap, took her knickers down and gave her six or seven firm smacks. She carried on, crying and wriggling as if I was killing her and I decided she'd had enough. She came home from school with the same rotten disposition and the backchat started straight away. She told me I am mean because I wouldn't let her go to her friends and told me if I weren't so lazy I would have met this friends parents. Her daddy was home and heard it all so he took her to her bedroom and gave her a good paddywhacking. Her dramatic sobs did nothing for her and she got probably fifteen or sixteen hard smacks to her bare bum. The dramatic sobbing stopped towards the end and there was a genuine cry. Had I smacked her a bit more this morning and not stopped because of her drama, she most likely wouldn't have earned that second smacking from her daddy. She came out her bedroom a changed little girl. You don't want to be excessive but you do want it to make a good and and lasting impression. My husband tells me to look at her bum and not listen to her cries and he is right.
My little Miss Know it all is eleven and a challenge. Stubborn she is but comes by it quite honestly...My husband is much better at that than I am. I was smacked while growing up and probably much too hard and that makes me more reluctant to give a good paddywhacking and that really is unfair to my sprogs. If I had smacked my daughter until it was effective she wouldn't have had to make a second trip over someone's lap that same day. My husband was effective and she was such a sweet girl the rest of yesterday and an absolute joy this morning. It's hard to cause your child pain but I think they want and need that. I didn't understand that when I was little but as a parent I see so much more and I love my parents dearly for doing what is so difficult to do. There is such peace within and without once those boundaries are reinforced.

 
When I was maybe 8 My Mom kept a record of if i did my chores and brushed my teeth one summer. She had a chart on the wall and I had to mark off when I did each task I could not falsely check off that I cleaned my room since she could clearly see that, but i did on the teeth brushing. Why I did not want to brush I don't know. But Mom was clever. After about 10 days she noticed two things My teeth and the tooth paste for me had not been used. So she Showed me the chart and asked me if I was falsely checking off that I had brushed my teeth. I did not want to lie to her since she would spank me bare bottom so I confessed. She told me to go to my room and I asked if she was going to spank me and she said nothing but went to get her paddle. When she returned to my room she commanded me to pull down my blue jeans and bend over my bed I pleaded to first not be spanked and then not bare. At this she grabbed my arm spun me around and smacked the side of my leg several times and pulled down my jeans and laid me over and spanked me bare bottom until I was sobbing wildly.
I brushed my teeth faithfully after that and checked the chart every day and showed her my pearly whites.

 
I got a number of bedtime spankings, hated to go to bed. My sister and I would talk when we were supposed to be going to sleep and then mum or dad would come in and put a stop to it. These were not especially hard smackings. We would be instructed to turn on our bellies and then our bums would get a few good smacks from the parental hand. Just enough to give a light sting and to remind us that more could follow. I remember one time resisting this smacking. I was about nine and my daddy was not in the best of moods. My sister and I were caught talking and he came in and dealt with my sister first. No turning on her belly that time, he pulled down her covers lifted her legs and gave her several hard smacks and she cried like he was beating her. When it was my turn I fought him and for that behaviour I was lifted out of my bed, put across his lap, knickers taken down and smacked until I was bawling like a baby.

 
She picked switches in advance, kept them on top of the refrigerator/icebox, and made it clear what they were for. She also used the 36 inch ruler or yardstick as we called it. But she never threatened to spank with a belt, the typical implement of most of the other moms.
I once asked obliquely ( I was impressed by the belt since all my friends got it with a belt but I also was very scared of it.) why she didn't use the belt. I say obliquely because I was definitely not requesting a shift! Anyway it turned out that her mom used the belt. One time she was naughty, got spanked, and a very visible image of the shape of the belt ended up visible on her leg. She thought this was embarrassing. She didn't think it constituted mistreatment but she did complain about it all her life. So, she wanted to spare me from such and that's why she switched to switches and the long ruler. If my grandma had been more accurate and landed that belt spank on her bottom, I too might have been like all the other kids and gotten the folded doubled belt on my bottom. Interesting how history works!
The little garage apartment we lived in was crowded with business guests. Everyone was in a good mood and not paying any attention to me. Suited me fine: I put a kitchen chair next to the icebox (it really was an icebox!) and climbed up. On top was an unpeeled switch. Switches were always kept there but this was a surprise to me since usually they were "ready to wear (me out with!)" It didn't matter to me -- no one was looking. I grabbed it, climbed down, and headed for the top of the stairs. I tossed it. I remember it spiraling down and landing near my sandbox which was under the stairs.
It lay there for days, gradually turning brown, leaves first and then stalk. I don't know why I didn't think to move it out of sight. No one ever commented on this "furtive" escapade.

 
I was a chatty Cathy when I was little, and I guess my teacher had had enough of my talking. It was early on in the school year, I think the 2nd month only and I had been warned SEVERAL times to stop talking to the kids around my desk but I didn't listen. When recess came, I was held back to stay inside with my head down on my desk. As soon as all the kids left the room, my teacher brought me into the room next door where there wasn't a window facing the playground. She gave me a stern lecture about how I needed to stop my talking or I would be sent to the head office for a paddling. Then she told me she was sorry but she was going to have to give me a spanking. She was sitting in a low chair and had me standing and facing her. She roughly pulled me over her left thigh only, leaving me dangling and I remember she was holding me a little too tightly against her body, probably to ensure I wouldn't move. She gave me a spanking over my uniform skirt, and only used her hand, but it was hard. I cried from embarrassment and the sting. When she finished, I was stood right back up and she grabbed my hand away from my face (I was wiping my tears) and briskly walked me back to our classroom. She made me sit at my desk with my head down while she ate her lunch. The reason I resent it is because I don't think any kids should be spanked for something so trivial, and she was sort of too brisk and rough with me through it all. It was also the 1st spanking I had ever gotten from someone aside my mom, dad or family.

 
One of my daughter's friends and I were talking when she was visiting... I was teasing her, telling her what a pain she was, she was actually a very good girl and always well behaved, but she enjoyed the teasing. Sometimes when I'd tease her I'd threatened to turn her over my knee (which I never did). One night when visiting my daughter had dozed off and she came into the living room where I was watching tv and sat down next to me. She asked me if I spanked my kids. I said, "Well Jon still gets spankings occasionally, but Ashley hasn't had one since she was eleven." She asked me how I did it, and I said, "Well when I spank them I usually use my hand." She asked, "Do you ever do it on their bare skin." I said, "Yes, my mom always spanked my bare bottom and that's how I've always spanked my kids." She asked if I ever used anything other than my hand, and I told her I'd used a belt or paddle a couple of times. I asked her if her parents spank her, and she said, "Yeah they both do." then went on to say. "My mom and dad use a thin stick (a dowel rod) when they spank me or when they spanked my big brother." She went on to tell me (without me having to ask by the way) that when they got spanked they would be taken by whichever parent was going to spank them) into the master bedroom one at a time. Then have to pull their pants and underwear down and bend over their mom or dad's knee. Then get spanked hard. She said, "that thing really hurts on bare skin." I said, "Yeah, I guess it does." then asked how long has it been since her last spanking. She told me she was eleven when she got her last one (she was 14 when she was talking to me about it) but she knows that her parents would still spank her if they thought she needed it.

 
I remember a family trip when I was really acting up with my younger brother. I paid no attention to my mom or dad telling my to stop until my dad pulled over at the next rest stop and my mom hulled me out of the car and marched me into the ladies room and into a back stall. There I was told to pull down my shorts and panties and my mom must have given me about 25 smacks on my bare bottom, while other women and kids were coming in and out of the restroom. After that, I was good for the rest of our trip.

 
I was 9 years old when I got angry with my mother one summer morning because she had spanked me with a switch for fighting/fussing with my younger sister. Afterwards, I was restricted to my own yard to play, but I slipped away on my bicycle and rode almost a mile to the college campus where my dad taught.
I expected some sympathy from him when he found me outside his office between classes. Boy, was I wrong! First of all, I had disobeyed and left the yard. I was also alone, knowing I was only allowed permission to ride my bicycle or walk to the campus with my older sister or a friend -- and then an adult had to watch as we crossed one particular busy street. Daddy closed his office door and called Mama on the phone to tell her where I was and she instructed him to "handle the matter appropriately" before sending me home to spend the rest of the afternoon in my room.
After a good long talk about disobedience and the dangers of a little girl out alone on her bicycle, crossing a dangerous busy street, etc., I was told that my naked fanny would be spanked right there in his office before going home. This was regarded a most serious offense and I was instructed to lower my shorts and panties before bending over his hard oak desk. He lashed my rear with the belt over and over as he held my squirming body in place with his free hand for what seemed like an eternity. When done, I was instructed to pull up my pants, dry my eyes and blow my nose while he left the office to ask one of his students to escort me across the street toward home.
It was most embarrassing to think the student knew I had been spanked and may have even heard it, not to mention a rather uncomfortable bicycle ride home.

 
My family traveled a lot when my brother and I were young and I got my share of spankings in hotels. One that I remember well was when I was about 13 and would not get out of the pool at the Holiday Inn that we were staying at. My dad gave me several warnings and then reached down into the pool and took me by the arm and pulled me to the pool steps. All the while, loudly stating that I was going to get my bare bottom spanked. He marched me back to our room and promptly pulled by swimsuit bottoms down, pulled me over this knees, and gave me a good bare bottom spanking. The balcony door was open and we were only on the 3rd floor, so I am sure many at the pool heard bare hand meeting bare bottom.

 
I had my nine year old daughter, eight at the time, while shopping and she got unruly. I took her in the dressing room and pulled up her skirt and gave her a few quick smacks. I allowed her a few minutes to have herself a cry and that was more than enough, it was a few smacks and couldn't have caused that much pain. I told her enough and we left the dressing room with her sniffling but as soon as we were back with a visible audience her sniffling turned in to tears and bum rubbing. I took her back in the dressing room, pulled her knickers down and gave her a real paddywhacking, which I should have given her in the first place. She had a good cry and was then done with it and ready to move on. It took her less time to regain her composure after the second paddywhacking. I expect a child to cry when punished but there are times when crying is little more than a tantrum in disguise.

 
I'm very aware of how I felt and acted when I knew it was coming. I would be sent to my room and the crying started straight away. I didn't cry in an attempt to get mercy but because I was afraid of the whole thing. I know I would apologise and beg for another chance before going to my room and I would be filled with dread when I got to me room. My stomach would feel so sick when I heard my daddy approaching and it was all out crying and pleading the moment he walked in my room. Loud pleading. My dad would take me by the arm and my free hand would cover my bum and I would continue to cry while my daddy told me exactly why I was getting my smacking. I was very aware of my behaviour while being positioned for it and having my knickers removed. I was terrified and would clutch on to a pillow and tighten my bum and beg my dad not to do it. Once the smacking began I centered right in on my bum from the first smack until the last one. The smacks were firm or hard ones and the stinging that followed each one was intense. According to everyone I wriggled and screamed while being smacked. I begged my dad to stop, apologised, told him my bum hurt, begged him not to smack so hard, told him I loved him, kicked my legs, tried to avoid the next smack by twisting, begged for a hug, on and on. All I really remember is the pain I felt. My dads hands were strong and they lit a fire on my backside...
He says that used to break his heart but he continued because it was what he felt I needed. At first I would not even be aware that the smacking had come to an end. My sister says I wriggled and cried out that it hurt for a bit after it was over. Wriggled so much my dad had to wait to pull up my knickers. When that happened I knew it was finally over and what I really wanted then was to be comforted. My dad would keep me over his lap until I had some composure and then he would help me stand up. That's when I would start rubbing my bum to try to extinguish some of the fire but it didn't do much to help my bum. Before the punishing episode was really over, there would be more talk and my dad would hold me close and reassure me of his love for me.

 
She snuck out of the house and was caught sneaking in around 3:00 a.m. I heard the yelling. My sister's room was next to mine, so I could clearly hear my dad tell my sister to lower her pants; my sister's crying; and the sound of the belt. My sister cried for quite a while afterward. What a horrible way to be woken up in the middle of the night.
I've witnessed my sister getting scolded, yelled at, and sent to her room for spankings. I heard her spankings on many different occasions. I always felt bad for her, and I learned early what behaviors would cause my father to reach for the strap. In a way, my sister's punishment, even though I wasn't present during the event; did serve as a deterrant for me. I definitely wasn't spanked as many times or as hard as my sister. I was also a different type of child, and many of the things my sister tried to get away with didn't interest me. I'm sure I made up for that in college though, when discipline wasn't even part of the equation.

 
My mother's custom was to tell me what I had done which was unacceptable behavior, inform me that I was going to be spanked for it, and then take me to my room or send me there to wait for her. I don't remember feeling less safe in my room because my mother's punishments happened there. It just meant that my mother's authority, like her love, extended to every corner of the house.
My mother believed a spanking was best administered on a child's bare bottom, a belief I share. My bedroom was the only room in the house, aside from the bathroom, where I was permitted to be undressed to that extent. So it seemed natural to be taken there to be bared and spanked. I think I would have felt self conscious at being bared in a more public part of the house like the living room or the kitchen, even if no one else was home at the time.

 
My dad tried to smack us in private but I can recall two times when he gave me a smacking in a very public place. The first was at an airport when I was eight. We were on our way to London and I got seperated from my mum and dad. There was a little gift counter that I wanted to visit and had been told no but I allowed myself to get seperated and go there. My very frantic dad found me and had no desire to find a private place to deliver to me the consequences for my behaviour. He raised his foot on to one of the seats and hoisted me over his leg. That position was rather painful to my stomach but that pain was nothing compared to the pain my bum soon felt. He raised my skirt but did not take down my knickers. I'm quite certain I put on quite the show for everyone, hooting and hollering. He gave it to me good.
The second time I was nine and it was at the beach. I wandered off and the lifeguards had to do a search for fear I had drowned. I had simply wandered off with another girl I had met there and when I returned to my family I knew straight away something was very wrong. When my parents saw me they hugged me but the next thing I knew my dad was dragging me to the picnic area and over his lap I went.

 
I never got a spanking at church, but have heard or witnessed them on occasion. One day I had to go out to the car after Sunday School, and before the main service, and saw our preacher's wife giving her daughter (who was the same age I was) a bare bottom spanking. She was sitting on the passenger side with the door open, and her daughter was bent over her knee with her dress pulled up and her panties down around her knee. She and I often sat together during the main service, since we had a little crush on each other. So I felt bad seeing her getting spanked. I didn't really want to see it but I couldn't help but sit in the car and watch. After the spanking Stephanie, stood up pulling her panties up, and her mother escorted her back inside. I went back in and after I lit the candles before the service started I went over and sat down beside her. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were red and she was sniffling. I didn't say anything, not wanting her to know that I saw her getting spanked, but I did slip my hand over and started holding hers. Her hand was a little "shaky" but she squeezed mine back. I heard her mom and mine talking after the service, and she said, "Oh our little lovers looked so cute sitting there during the service holding hands." I never did let her know I saw her getting spanked that day.

 
I don't remember spankings for not going to sleep once we were in bed, but there were some for disobedience when it was time to get ready for bed and my sisters and I chose to stall or "forget" it was time. My mother had a habit at one point of telling us over and over to get baths, put on pajamas and get into bed while we girls just ignored her and tried one stall technique after another. I remember my dad calling a little family meeting and informing us that "this was our warning" and from that point forward there would be spankings for disobedience. Of course, being kids, we HAD to test to see if he really meant it. He did mean it!

 
In my fifth-grade year, I suddenly found myself receiving spankings at home that were frightening, embarrassing, and agonizing on a scale theretofore unknown in our family and even the small liberal town near Knoxville, Tennessee where we lived.
My parents had spanked my sister and I previously, but those punishments had been spontaneously delivered, over clothing, and scarcely memorable. The "new style" involved ritual and suffering. It involved waiting, marching outside out to the base of the yard in full view of neighbors, pulling down pants and underwear, and leaning against a tree with the bottom out for a highly memorable spanking or switching. These were events that make me blush to this day to recall.
So what was responsible for this "new style" of parental punishment? I quickly concluded that the new book my mother had received from an acquaintance was responsible. I snuck the book to bed at night and was captivated by what it had to say. I don't remember the name of the book, but it was written by "Focus on the Family" demagogue James Dobson (not related to the Fritz previously mentioned, I don't believe). A memorable anecdote of Dobson's from the text describes how he'd "sting his daughter's legs with a switch" for disobedience. Elsewhere online today, one can find other excerpts verbatim from Dobson's "spare the rod..." parenting advice. Use Google if interested; Don't miss the ones describing how he punishes his little 12-pound dog with a leather belt.
Anyway, my parents disowned Dobson's parenting style within months of having tried it out, but for me that was not soon enough. What's interesting (and perhaps tragic) about Dobson's parenting influence is that it is not limited to the small right-wing Christian culture that he's widely identified with today. My parents were, and remain, agnostic liberals. Our town was largely occupied by professionals in the service of a government scientific laboratory, not by Tennessee hillbillies. And yet, in the early '90s, these people were reading James Dobson, experimenting with his methods, and publicly switching their children to tears.
Spankings have not come up in family discussion AT ALL until very recently. I've been too embarrassed to bring it up, and my father's been likewise too embarrassed to bring it up. My sister brought it up once as an aside in a discussion about the "big tree" that stood at the foot of the yard, and my father said, "I'm sorry for spanking you kids." I'm not going to let him know that I've gotten to visiting boards like these as a nighttime hobby, that I relive those terrifying marches to the big tree in slow motion in my dreams. That would be way too hard on him. He's really not the ultimately responsible party: that would be James Dobson.

 
I remember a time when both my older sister and I were promised a spanking. My mother was hosting her Community Club in our home on this particular evening. (This was a group of ladies from our subdivision who got together once a month for a program and socializing.) Becca and I got into some trouble for arguing with each other just as the doorbell rang and the first guests arrived. When we did not quiet down immediately after being warned, our mother came into the den and grabbed both of us by the arm. She calmly told us to go upstairs immediately to our rooms and stay there and that we could expect a spanking as soon as her guests left.
True to her word, no sooner than the last guest had gotten out the door, Mama and Daddy came upstairs with two fresh switches and summoned both Becca and myself to the master bedroom. I was first to be instructed to bend over the side of the bed and have my fanny and thighs blistered with the switch after my mother pulled my pajama pants and panties down to my knees. I was sent to bed just as Becca was being told to lower her pants and bend over the bed for her spanking.
I think we were both thankful that our father didn't spank us while mama's friends were there for their meeting even though the wait was not pleasant either.

 
My mom spanked me in the anteroom to the ladies room in a large department store in (probably) Traverse City Michigan when I was 7. The room had a couch along one wall which is where I got it. We weren't in a stall so some number of ladies and kids saw me bare bottom over Mom's lap getting it. The only one I recall at all was a girl a little younger than me who asked questions of her mom as I was getting my after-spanking scolding. I don't really recall being embarassed, but the fact that I do recall this girl indicates I probably was.

 
When my mom chose to spank my bare bottom, she was the one who lowered my panties. I never did so voluntarily.
I usually tried to plea with my parent before hand: "I'm sorry daddy (or mommy) I won't do it again." "Please don't spank me." When I was being spanked I usually just bawled my head off. Sometimes I'd say, "Please stop! I'll never do it again! I'll be good!"
I was about 5 years-old when I got silly in church. My parents both quietly warned me to stop. I when my dad had enough, he scooped me up and hauled me out to the foyer. I saw several mothers with small children sitting on the couches in the foyer. My dad brought me into the coat closet for my spanking. I cried and carried on as usual. Right after the spanking my dad brought me back into the foyer and sat down on one of the couches. He let me know that we were going to sit there until I settled down and stopped crying. I was older than the other kids that were with their mothers. I know each of the mothers knew what I got. I felt all eyes on me for a while. I was madder than a hornet at my father, but I had to sit on his lap and stop my crying.
My mother usually spanked with the wooden (or plastic)spoon. I did receive one belt spanking from my mom. I was 9 years old at the time. My 12 year-old brother was teasing me during breakfast. My mom was annoyed that I wasn't dressed and ready yet. I was still in my bathrobe. My brother was really making me mad, so I kicked him under the table. My kick caused him to bump the table and spill his cereal. Before I knew it, my mom grabbed my arm and told me to get to my room at once.
Out of the three children, I was the neat/organized one. I had these pretty pastel leather belts on top of one of my dressers. They really were pretty: pink, baby blue, yellow, peach, and sea foam. My mom caught sight of the belts and grabbed the yellow one. She spanked me over my panties with that belt. Boy, did it hurt! I never knew how much a girls' fashion belt could hurt.
After that spanking, I decided to hide my belts in one of my drawers.

 
Mom was a "in front of God and everybody" type of spanker.. If you misbehaved in public, at someone's house, etc... she would give you one warning. If the warning didn't work she would ask you if you wanted your bare butt (or ass depending on how much you pushed her) spanked in front of God and everybody. If that didn't make you straighten up, then the next thing you knew your butt was bare and you were getting spanked, in front of everybody... There were a few rare occasions in public where she would either take us to the car to spank us, or to a bathroom, but most of the times spankings were delivered on the spot. Most of the time it happened (which wasn't very often by the way) instead of making comments about mom being too strict the other parents usually would tell their kids something to the effect of, "and if you don't behave that could be you next," or "that's what's gonna happen to you if you don't straighten up." I don't know if it was more embarassing getting my bare bottom spanked in front of others or being an "object lesson."

 
My parents decided to take the family out to dinner one evening. I think I was around eight at the time. Once we arrived at the restaurant, my younger siblings started bugging me, so I began to kick them underneath the table. My parents gave us several warnings. My sisters behaved, but I decided to continue. I don't no why. Maybe I was just testing my limits. Instead of kicking my sisters, I began to kick the chairs in which they were sitting, minding their own business.
My dad was getting highly agitated. "Young lady, if you do that one more time, you'll be sitting." That should have been enough warning for me, but I kept right on misbehaving.
I kicked my mother in the shins, not hard, but it was enough to give her an opportunity to warn me, too. "Kerry, if you continue, you will be getting a spanking," my mom whispered in my ear.
Guess what I did? I ignored both parents, and this time, I kicked the table, which sent a glass of soda splashing to the ground. My father stood up, marched right over to me, grabbed me by the arm, and rushed me out to the car. He rolled down the windows, and he told me, "Don't let me see you get out of this car until we get home. Is that understood?"
I was furious. I shouldn't have been. I deserved this punishment at a minimum. I shrugged off my father's orders and stepped out of the car. I made my way into the restaurant, and back to the table where my family was seated.
My dad glared at me. "Didn't I tell you to stay in the car?"
"Yeah, but I'll be good. I promise," I whined. 
My parents actually let me sit back at the table. What did I do after I had my chance to be good and enjoy my dinner? I went right back to kicking the seats of my siblings. My bratty sister told on me.
My dad was not happy. He slammed down his napkin, and he actually carried me outside to the car. I was so embarrassed. I felt like I was three years old again. The whole way out to the car, he lectured me about how to behave in a restaurant.
My dad opened up the backseat doors, and he sat down, and before I knew it, he hoisted me over his lap. He unbuttoned my pants, and he pulled them down. My panties went down with my pants. I started to cry.
"Maybe this will teach you how to behave in a restaurant!" With that, the spanking was on. I kicked and squirmed, but my dad continued to spank me as hard as his hand possibly could.
Finally, the spanking ended. My dad helped me pull my pants and panties back up, and then he grabbed me tightly by my hand and escorted me back into the restaurant. I still had tears streaming down my cheeks, and I'm sure everybody knew what had happened to me.
My father sat me back down into my seat, and he warned that I'd better be good, or he would do the same thing all over again, only this time it would be right where I was sitting, in front of everybody in the restaurant. So, for the rest of the evening I was good. I did not want to test my limits anymore. That parking lot spanking was humiliating enough!

 
The room that my sister and I shared was next door to my brother's room. I remember a game that my brother invented when we were little. I think we were around 7, 5, and 4 when we started playing the game. It was called, "The Bottom Eater." My brother would occasionally call it, "Butt Muncher." The name sounds much worse than what the game actually was. Remember it was my brother's idea. LOL! In our room, my sister's bed was right across from mine. My brother indicated that the "Bottom Eater" was it. The other two players could jump back and forth between the two beds, or get in the pit with the "Bottom Eater" if they dared. The "Bottom Eater" could chase the others, but could not get on either of the beds. The "Bottom Eater" had to pinch one of the other players on the bottom to get out the pit. Whoever was pinched was "it" and became the "Bottom Eater." 
We were always fully clothed in our Pjs. We had so much fun with this game. Unfortunately, it usually happened when our parents wanted us in our beds sleeping. The game also meant there was jumping on beds and plenty of giggles and laughter.
Our game was usually broken up when our parents would holler that if we didn't go to sleep, we were going to get it. Our mom caught us playing the game once and we were all surprised that she didn't spank us. She just laughed and said, "You little rascals need to go to bed right now, or else." My brother ran to his own room, and my sister and I scrambled into our beds. 
We continued to play our game for while. We would quickly get into our beds when we were threatened. We weren't so lucky one time. We were laughing, giggling, and having a great time when our dad entered the bedroom. He said, "I don't want you kids playing this game anymore! I don't like your game!" My brother and sister climbed under the covers of the nearest bed. I had been the "Bottom Eater," so I was the first to be caught. Before I knew it, I was across my dad's knee getting my Pj bottoms lowered. I was a crying my eyes out and rubbing my bottom when my brother and sister were getting theirs.

 
I do remember getting two spankings from my Grandma Joan, my dad's mother. I was four years-old for the first one. It was a beautiful winter day with plenty of snow. My mother was busy, so she called our grandma to watch us. My grandma wouldn't let me play outside with my brother and sister because she thought I was getting sick. She wanted me to lay down and rest. I was so angry that I started crying, kicking, and throwing a big tantrum. Grandma Joan had enough and sent me to my room. I did not go willingly. She gave me one smack on the bottom and carried me to my room. 

I was madder than a wet hen. When my grandma left, I continued to bawl, and I started to kick the walls and the door. I heard my grandma tell me to stop it. She got tired of hearing the door and walls being kicked and came in to scold me. I said something that shocks me to this day. I stubbornly looked at my Grandma Joan and said, "Shut up, you stupid!" That was a big mistake. I found myself over her knee getting my bare-bottom spanked. My grandma really wrote a story on my bottom. What I mean by that is, she was scolding me the whole time she was spanking me: "Don't you ever, ever talk to me that way Missy! You will listen to me and show me respect. You are never to talk that way to anyone! Do you understand me?"

My grandma just used her hand, but my little, bare-bottom really hurt. I cried for a long time afterward and didn't try the kicking and pounding of the walls. 

The other spanking was also given by my Grandma Joan. I loved to visit her because she was such a good cook and baker. She really was a master in the kitchen. My grandmother had a beautiful collection of teapots and teacups. Some of her kitchen cabinets had glass on the doors to display her beautiful china collection. 

When I was 6 years-old, I wanted to look at her beautiful tea sets. I climbed on the countertop to get a better look. I knew my grandma wasn't far from the kitchen because she was cooking supper and baking some delicious homemade pies. I had been scolded for climbing on the counter tops a couple of times. I was mesmerized by the beautiful china collection and just had to look at it. 

Unfortunately, I slipped and knocked over two of my Grandma Joan's beautiful, aromatic, homemade apple pies. The delicious pies fell to the floor and oozed out on the linoleum. My grandma came in an saw what I had down. I looked up at her and said, "I'm sorry grandma. I didn't mean to..." Grandma Joan reached for one of her wooden spoons. I was across her knee getting my bottom warmed with the spoon. 

Later on that evening, I told my grandma that I was sorry again. I told her I just wanted to see her beautiful tea sets. I know my grandma felt bad for spanking me, because she apologized for losing her temper with me. 

The were the only two spankings I had ever received from a grandparent.


 
I am old enough to have been in school when paddling was common. I got it three times--2nd, 6th and 9th grades. And in those days--I ,of course, got it again at home.

I honestly can not recall ever getting anything but a bare bottom spanking(except the three paddlings I got at school)--so I don't know.

When I got older I would sometimes try to talk my Mom into letting me keep my underwear on--because I was "too old" or it "was too embarrassing" or "none of the other kids are spanked that way" or "none of the other kids my age are even spanked." 

Mom had a stock answer to that (which I have used myself:))--"it was not your panties that misbehaved." 

Of course, she would sometimes add the classics "I don't care about (what other kids are doing, whether other kids are spanked, how other kids are spanked, etc.) I care about you."


 
I remember getting into an arguement with my mom when I was younger. i was no more than 7, but I was mature for my age. I had disobeyed my mom and she took me to her room to get the slipper, something I hadn't been spanked with yet. I fought with her and begged for a second chance. I was so afraid of that slipper because I had been told horror stories by my older brothers (which were scarier than need be BTW). At one point, I started getting a bit hysterical. My mom sat me down and decided to speak frankly with me. She went on about how she expected complete respect and compliance from us kids, and that being a mom was hard stuff. She didn't want to have to take the slipper to my bottom, but I chose to misbehave and now I must be corrected. She remembered how terrible the sting was after a spanking, and it would be very difficult to use it on me, but it had to be done. She said the old adage, when mommy and daddy give a spanking, we are crying inside as hard as you are on the outside. I pulled away and smarted off, "yeah right. If it hurts you so much, don't use it." She had enough, and I did get my first spanking with that terrible slipper on my thin pj bottoms. I know it was hard to punish us, but I still don't buy that it hurts me more than it hurts you crap:)

 
Is underwear protection?  I think it depends on how the parent spanks. When my father spanked me with his hand, it was over my panties or pyjamas. When my mother spanked me, it was always on my bare skin. As a child I was equally afraid of both and didn't perceive one parent's method as being less painful than the other's.
The thing is, my father was stronger and when he spanked me he really smacked my bottom hard. I could feel his strength. But he did it more slowly than my mother did, with not as many smacks. My mother was not as strong as my father but that didn't matter because she would pull down my panties and slap my bare skin many times, fast. By the time she was finished I was crying just as hard as when Daddy did it because it hurt just as much.
I don't think my panties gave me any real protection from my father's method. But I think they might have made my mother's spankings sting a bit less if I had been allowed to leave them on.

 
I was always spanked bare bottom. The closest reason Mom ever gave was when I got older and tried to urge her to let me keep my pants/underwear on because I was "too old" or it "was too embarrassing". Her retort was "it wasn't your panties that misbehavied."  The real reason to spank bare bottom is that it stings a lot more--and that is a good reason.

I had an inpromtu spanking with a wooden spoon once. Mom was so infuriated she didn't bother to go and get her hairbrush. My sister and I were racing around the dinning room off from the kitchen--the good fun turned into fight and we started grabbing at each other --yelling--calling names.

Meanwhile, Mom was trying to do something in the kitchen. She ran out with the wooden spoon in her hand and grabbed me--sat down--pulled me over her lap--I don't remember what I was wearing but I was soon bare bottom--and she whaled away. After she was through with me my sister had her turn.


 
My sister and I both had long hair while we were growing up. My sister had the beautiful long, naturally curly, blond hair. Mine was straight and medium brown. My mom loved to fix our hair. My sister and I grew up with our hair up in pony tails, braids, or pinned back with barrets. My mother was not gentle with either of our heads. She brushed super hard, sometimes it felt as though she were raking our heads. When she braided or fixed ponytails, she usually made these really tight.

When we were young 4-9 years old, my sister and I took turns sitting on the floor in front of mom getting our hair fixed. This was not fun. My sister and I frequently vocalized our complaints, "Ouch mom! Not so hard!" Sometimes we fussed or gave mom a hard time. My mom was old fashioned and would never send us girls to school with messy or unkempt looking hair.

During our daily hair fixing there was the usual fussing and complaining. Rarely somebody would end up crying because it hurt. My mom spanked my sister and I during a couple of our hair fixing sessions. It was usually for resisting her hair fixing. Yes, she used the hairbrush.


 
I have thick curly brown hair, and when I was young, my mom couldn't figure out how to brush my hair without making it frizzy. I don't think any mom is gentle with their girls hair, and she would brush too quickly. When she was trying to pull the sides back, I whined that I wanted a pony. I was already ticked off I had to wear a dress. I was 7 and at my biggest tomboy stage of life. I started a tantrum and pinched my mom. Well, naturally I was tucked under her arm, my nightie lifted and spanked. She didn't use a brush, just her hand, but my mom could spank hard, and she tended to spank the hardest when you were mean to her or someone else. The spanking ended quickly but I was made to sit on her lap and get my hair fixed. That spanking had me in a mood all day. I was forced to actually take a nap mid-day because of it.

[As an adult] I confronted my mom about the fact that she used bare bottom spankings period. She only did this before I was 8 or so, and used her hand, and not all the time, but I hated them and will always have some resentment about them. When I was in college, I double-majored in behavioral psych. and I remember in the child psych class being lectured for 3 hours about the bad side of spanking. While I do think it was a bit overdone, all the points about baring a child I agreed with. I went home from the dorm that night and got into a heated fight with my mom about the fact that the spankings on my panties were just as terrible and there was absolutely no need to ever take them down. She felt terrible and cried for quite some time. She is now a firm anti-spanker, and regrets what she did. Even though I love her to death and she knows it, she also knows that I needed that apology. I have no judgements about those who spank or spank bare bottom, but I have definitely been affected by the ones I got.


 
My parents were VERY pro-CP, so spanking and other physical punishments were the primary, and most used in our home. The also used mouth-soaping in conjunction with spanking for any lying or foul language.

When we were younger, we were usually spanked with the hand on the bared bottom, either over the knee or in the "diaper" position (laying on our back, with our legs up). As we got older, depending on the severity of the misbehavior, Mom spanked us with a heavy wooden hairbrush, a rubber sandal, or a wooden spatula/spoon. Sometimes Mom spanked us with a switch. Dad spanked us with his slipper, leather belt or a flexible rattan cane.

If we were out in public, we were usually smacked with the hand over our clothes (or for those unlucky enough to be wearing a dress or skirt, it was over underpants) with a promise for more to come when we got home. But depending on the circumstances, if we were especially naughty and unruly, we were taken to the restroom, or out to the car, and spanked with either the purse-size version of Mom's wooden hairbrush, a small plastic rod (from a broken window blinds set) or a ruler (which along with the plastic rod was always kept in the car, for when and if needed) .

For the most part, the "spanking implements" were always on display. Mom's hairbrush sat on her dresser, and the wooden spatula/spoon hung on a hook in the kitchen. Because Dad used other belts for wearing, this particular belt, was specifically reserved for spankings (so he had removed the metal buckle prior to using it on us kids, to prevent serious injury) Since this belt was only needed to spank us with, it was usually hung behind the door of our playroom (which was later converted to a den/rec-room) which made it instantly visible as soon as, and as long as the door was closed. The cane, leaned against the wall, in a corner of our coat closet.

Generally, our spankings were over the knee, unless it was with the belt, switch or the cane, in which case we either had to lay face-down on the bed, or bend over a piece of furniture

Growing up, my sisters and I all had long hair. In India, most schools are very strict about uniforms, and that includes EVERYTHING about the student's ENTIRE appearance (hairstyle, bookbag, shoes, etc.) Girls with long hair were only allowed to wear their hair in tight plaits - usually two braids, one on either side of the head and tied with ribbons in the exact school color shade.

With 6 kids, 2 parents, and 2.5 bathrooms (2 full baths, and one bathroom with just a sink and toilet) weekday mornings were very rushed in our house.

Though the boys usually could care less and bathed in the night, we girls always wanted to take our shower and wash our hair in the mornings to have that freshly-washed look and scent.

That often made for added rush as Mummy struggled to get all our hair sufficiently dried, combed/brushed and plaited for school.

As such, there were quite a lot of spankings while having our hair fixed. The irony that Mummy spanked us with a different hairbrush than the one that she combed our and her own hair with didn't help us out any.

If we were acting up while getting our hair fixed, Mummy just sent one of the boys (since not having much to do to get ready for school were done ahead of time) to her room to get the spanking brush from her dresser, while in the meantime, she had already bared the unlucky girl and had her over the knee, smacking her bottom with the hand until the dispatched boy appeared with the brush. Then Mummy would spank with the brush, giving at least a dozen quick but hard whacks before letting us up, and making us sit back down on our bare, throbbing behind, to finish getting our hair fixed.

Sometimes, if it was getting too late, and/or all of us girls had been acting up, and there was no time to give us spankings, then Mummy would just make us stand up, turn around and bend over. Then she'd lift up our school uniform skirt, pull our panties to just below our bottom, and plant a few sharp whacks with her hand or whatever other spanking implement she had nearby.

After those few smacks, she'd promise us a proper spanking that afternoon when we returned from school. The nervousness and fear of that impending spanking always made for a less than pleasant day in school that day.

One of the instruments that my mom often used to spank us kids with was the plastic (lucite?) rod used to adjust window blinds.

That rod, doesn't seem like a painful and formidable spanking tool, but it really is. As far as I've experienced, it never leaves any telltale marks (like a cane does) which is important in today's P.C. non-spanking society. But the sting of the plastic rod on bare skin is incredible, and on occasion, my husband and I have used that rod to spank our children.

Though my dad usually preferred to spank with his hand or other implements (belt, cane, etc.) he also used the plastic window blind rod. But mostly it was only if we'd misbehaved in public, and had to be taken out to the car for a spanking.


 
I got a spanking from my mother at age 7, that I feel was unjust, inappropriate for the offense, and too harsh for the offense.

It was around the middle of May around break-up season in Southwestern Alaska. I was playing with Playdough at the kitchen table. My older brother started teasing me. He had a way of inflicting brotherly torment that caused me to lash out and/or get emotional. I told my mom a couple of times to make Brad stop teasing me. Mom of course was busy and didn't pay too much attention to our bickering at the time.

Brad wouldn't let up with the teasing. I had playdough on the end of my finger tips. I was pretending that I had long, fingernails. Brad knocked some Playdough out of my hands. That was the last straw! I took the Playdough that was on the end of my finger tips and I smashed it in his hair.

Boy, was that the wrong thing to do at the time! I saw my mom coming toward me. I knew I was going to get it. I took off to one of my favorite hiding places which was ironically in my parents' room. My mom was too quick. She grabbed me, put me across her knee, and bared my bottom. She used just her hand on my bare bottom, but that was one of the worst spankings I ever received. She must have smacked about 20-25 times. I was bawling and pleading with my mom to stop. She really smacked hard.

When my mom was through with me, my bottom burned, hurt, and was really sore. I cried for the longest time after that spanking.

When it was time to get ready for bed, my mom drew my bath water. I was getting ready to hop in the tub when my mom noticed how red my bottom was. She made probably one of the most insensitive comments. She said, "It looks like you have a rash on your bottom. You must be allergic to spanking. Maybe I should spank you more." I wanted to cry right then and there, but I didn't. 


 
My sister was around 10 and I was 9 when we witnessed a public spanking. We were at Lamont's Clothing Store shopping for back to school clothes. After we picked out our clothes we went to the woman's section to wait as our mother went shopping. We saw a little girl who looked to be about 5 years-old shopping with her mother. The little girl started whining over something and her mom yelled at her to, "Stop it!"

Our mom was checking out some clothes on the racks and my sister and I were wandering around close by. The little girl must have done something to upset her mother because my sister and I saw the mom lift the little girl's dress up to spank her. The mom didn't take the little girl to the restroom or dressing room, she spanked her daughter right there in the woman's clothing section. We were both shocked and felt bad for the little girl. It made me feel uncomfortable, so I wanted to find my mom. My sister smiled at the little girl and that seemed to ease some of her crying; she even smiled back at my sister.

My parents didn't believe in public spankings, so it was especially shocking to witness them out in the open. We knew what spankings felt like and were both embarrassed for the little girl. 

My mom believed in bare bottom spanking, because that was how she was spanked. She claims that there was something about the sting and humbling effect that comes with a bare bottom spanking.  My dad left my panties up for spankings. Trust me, I never questioned who the boss was. My dad required instant obedience and could be overly strict about certain things. I remember earning a couple of spankings from him, and I made up my mind ahead of time not to cry. I tried my darndest, but my dad just swatted me harder until I did cry. He may have felt that spanking was only effective if we cried, or that we were resisting our punishment by refusing to cry.

My dad used his hand when we were little, and the belt when we got older. Just a few whacks from my dad would set my bottom on fire and send me into tears. My dad usually spanked over our clothes or underwear.

My mom on the other hand, liked to spank our bare bottoms. That really hurt. It didn't matter if she used her hand, the wooden spoon, or the hair brush; it HURT! There were many times when I felt like my mom was killing me with her spankings.


 
Dad was a switch user but only in the summer for some odd reason, and yes I was made to get my own.

I would go outside to a big leafy bush that grew some type of very fragrant flowers that were a blue/purple color (often the color of my behind after a good dose of the belt or paddle) and I can remember dreading the switching I knew was coming but the smell of the flowers on this bush was just wonderful.

I'd pick a very leafy green beast of a switch and take it back to my dad, he'd always start at the bottom of the switch were it was cut and use his thumb and index finger and slide it to the tip of the switch to remove the leaves. He'd then point with the switch as to where I was to bend over. I'd walk over to the chair, bed, couch...and pull my shorts and panties down and the spanking would begin.

The switch would fall on my bare flesh and I'd scream in agony and shake my behind to kill the stinging and sometimes I'd reach back and squeeze my butt cheeks to try for pain relief which worked for less then a second and would earn me more licks.

Dad would stand to my left or right side and really wear my tail out, I always hated the switch and I always hated the fact of had to go cut my own.


 
In my house, the only girl (ME) and the youngest (ME) was punished the most. PERIOD. I never listened to my mom throughout my childhood years, and had so much more spunk and sassyness than the boys. It's a wonder I survived at all. Also, something that contributes to this fact, is the notion that being the youngest with quite a bit of age difference from the oldest ones, allowed for the occasional spanking from them. So I got it from many elders. Not just mom and dad. So all in all, this girl got spanked way more than the boys in my house.

My mom spanked us way more often than my dad, and her spankings were definitely more serious and lasted longer. She bared my bottom when I was much younger and proceeded to spank me with her hand or slipper longer than the 12 swats my dad universally seemed to give. When she stopped baring my bottom at around 10 she always seemed to lift my skirt or lower my pants to spank on my panties, and she also started using her hairbrush (the worst thing I think to be spanked with) or the wooden spatula from the kitchen. My dad's spankings were always on my fully clothed bottom and he only used his hand primarily. Sure he did use the slipper and small ping pong paddle we had from our tennis table set, but his hand was the main tool. He always gave only 1 dozen smacks to your rear end, no matter your age, so technically his were much easier on your bottom. However, I am/was a daddy's girl and seemed to be mortified by the idea of him spanking me no matter how much milder in comparison to mom's it was. I hated being on dad's bad side, and probably given the choice (which I never was) I would have picked mom to spank me. There's something about getting a spanking from a male that I was very sensitive to and embarrassed by. I didn't even like it if my dad and brothers were in the house when my mom spanked me in my bedroom. It really got to me. Especially when I was past 3rd grade.

When I was older, if my dad actually used something other than his hand, it was "the paddle". Which was 1 of 2 things. Either the ping pong paddle from our table tennis set we had down in our basement, or an old hairbrush that had lost its bristles. My mom also used to use our little bolo bats (the ones with the little rubber ball attached) when the balls would fall off. She'd write your name on it and leave it on top of the fridge to grab if she needed to. Those could sting, but only on your underwear. Over jeans, they snapped in half and you didn't feel a thing. The hairbrush back was the worst thing to be spanked with...period.


 
I brought a pair of my [police officer] dad's handcuffs to school. My teacher let me "show and tell" them. She didn't know that I didn't get permission to take them to school. I practiced cuffing my classmates. We were in the first grade, so our wrists were pretty tiny. I left the cuffs on a setting where we could slip in and out of them. It was my turn to be cuffed. I willing put my hands behind my back, as my friend Justin put the cuffs on. Much to my horror, he tightened the cuffs. I was really cuffed. My teacher Miss O'Brien asked where the key was. I sheepishly told her that the key was at home, or with my dad. She was shocked that I didn't bring it. I started crying because Justin put the cuffs on really tight. I wasn't able to do work or anything for that matter. Miss O'Brien called my mother who got in touch with my dad. He came to the school to uncuff me. He started laughing at me which caused my classmates to laugh. He jokingly said, "She stole my hand cuffs; should I put her in jail or spank her?" He was only joking, but my classmates were laughing at my expense. 

The most embarrassing situation happened when I was also in the first grade. I went through a phase where I didn't want to go to school. I would cry, whine, and stubbornly refuse to go to school. I received a couple of spankings at home because of my ornery behavior. My dad dropped us kids off at school on his way to work, or after his shift depending on his schedule at the time. I put up some good fussing. My dad had to walk me to my classroom on several occasions. I know my classmates got a kick out of me being delivered to school by force of a policeman. They all knew he was my daddy, but it was still entertaining.

I pushed my daddy a little too far once. I was putting up a royal fuss and being very unreasonable. My dad delivered me to my classroom. I continued to whine and fuss. My other classmates were at their seats. My dad grabbed my arm and said loud enough for my teacher and all my classmates to hear, "You better straighten up right now Missy. I'm about ready to turn you over my knee, flip your skirt up, and spank you in front of everybody. That would be pretty embarrassing, wouldn't it?" I heard some quiet giggles from my classmates. I stopped my sniveling at once and got ready like a good girl.

My dad being a police officer used to come home later when he worked some strange shifts. When he got off at 8:00 p.m., our mom would get us ready for bed and we could greet him when he came home. We got our kiss and hug and were whisked off to bed. I was a "Daddy's Girl" who pushed my limits a little, and many times it worked with daddy. I would climb out of bed to give him one more hug and kiss, or to ask him to read me just one story.

There was one night; however, when my luck would run out. I wanted so badly to stay up and spend time with my daddy. I got out of bed for an extra kiss, to hear a story, and because I couldn't sleep. My dad told me after the last excuse that I needed to stay in bed. I still couldn't sleep so I got out of bed again and went downstairs one more time. My dad saw me and calmly motioned and said, "Come here Cara." I thought he might hold me for a while until I got sleepy. He didn't look upset, so I went over to climb on his lap. Before I had a chance I found myself across his lap getting a spanking. I was tricked! At that age, I thought it was a mean trick.

There was an incident when I was 7 years-old that was very close to a spanking. I refused to try any salad type dish that had mayonaise as the base. My mom was pretty understanding when it came to food. I was the only one in the family with an aversion to mayonaise, actually eggs in general. She never tried to make me eat the dishes that had mayo in them. She wanted me to try them, but she never made me eat them. I was pretty stubborn and would even refuse to try the dish or entree. My mom just left me alone and told my dad that my taste buds would mature on their own.

My dad didn't like my stubborn refusal. During one of the meals, my family was enjoying enjoying potato salad with ham. I refused to eat the potato salad. My mom didn't push the issue, and just let me eat the ham, fruit salad, and bread. My dad was determined to make me try the potato salad. He made me sit on his lap as he held a fork full up to my mouth. I refused and shut my mouth tight. He started losing patience with me. I wasn't going comply. I tried to struggle away. He tried opening my mouth, I wouldn't let him. He gave me one swat on the bottom and I opened my mouth. The potato salad food its way in. I tried to spit it out, but my dad covered my mouth. I started crying and feeling sick. I drank about three cups of Koolaid to get rid of the taste. I didn't want to eat the rest of the meal.

My mother was mad my father for pushing the issue. She blamed him for ruining my meal and our family time together. My aversion to mayonaise was respected by my family after that.


 
I was a “sissy” when it came to spankings. I just couldn’t stand the sting of Father’s stick on my bare behind and inevitably ended up bawling my eyes out after three or four strokes taken in complete silence. In a way I was fairly composed beforehand and not crying or begging. Even when I was second in line I was more like in a trance when it was my turn. Though it hurt a lot I believe it also had something to with expectation and the whole formal “set up”. I suffered similar or even greater pain when I fell on my roller skates or my bike or my dentist cut my receding gums without necessarily bawling like a baby.

I remember one situation when I was about 12. I misbehaved enough for Mother to get hold of Father in his shop on the ground floor for an immediate spanking which was very unusual and he took me into the master bedroom on the first floor. The commotion had made a “crowd” of boys and girls gather beneath the windows because “Anna the paragon of virtue” was going to get it. The bedroom window frame had two large casements below and two small ones above. The latter were always open for ventilation during summer and were so high up that you needed a ladder to close them. So they stayed open during the “show”. Knowing there was a “crowd” about five yards below the open windows I decided to take my punishment in silence this time. I tried to get away with only lowering my shorts, but Father said, “Knickers too” in his stentorian voice that I believed everyone in the audience below heard. So down came my knickers and I bent over the cold bronze metal tube foot end of the bed, dug my fingers into the bedspread, closed my eyes, tightened every muscle in my body and gritted my teeth deciding to not let out one sound.

WHACK. Me (thinking): AUW.
WHACK. Me (thinking): AUWW. It HURTS!
WHACK. Me (thinking): AUWWW I can’t stand any more!!
WHACK. Me (thinking): AUWWWW NO MORE - NO MORE PLEEEASE!!!
WHACK. Me bursting into one breathless WAAAAHHH!!!

My sister who really initiated the misbehaviour but escaped her fate by an inch and was part of the “crowd” “comforted” me afterwards by saying, “Christ Anna, you really put on a show”. I always tried to keep my spankings a secret and that BOYS knew and HEARD was EMBARRASSING.


 
I recall some things I said before and after being spanked that were really silly statements and could be and were seen as humorous. I recall when I was young perhaps 6 I had not listened to my mom in cleaning up the mess I had made in my room putting it off one too many times after being told. Mom came in with her paddle and I looked at her and said really loud NO and froze realizing what I had just said. Mom replied YES and spun me around and spanked me and rather good or bad depending on whose side you are looking at it from. I was crying right afterwards and doing my little dance and cried out "Mommy it hurts!"  This seemed to amuse her since she kind of chuckling said "I know, it is supposed to hurt." There were times when I would say to her when she was getting ready to spank me "Mom I don't want a spanking!" which of course was very obvious.  Who did? Once when she was getting her paddle down I said this.  "Of course you don't want to be spanked but you're going to be."

I said "I hate you" once thinking it may hurt her and maybe cause tears. Well it caused tears but not for her. She spanked me harder and longer and I learned that was a stupid thing to say. Mom was spanked as a child and likely used all the same expressions to no avail.


 
Most of the silly things I said came before a spanking. Examples I recall were:

"But I'm too old to be spanked"
"I don't want to be spanked"
"It's so unfair, Mom"
"No other girls my age are spanked"
"None of my friends still get spanked"
"I'll never do it again, I promise"

Of course none of these pleas and protests did any good. Mom always said she'd used the same pleas when she was a girl, so she'd heard them all before!

During the spanking it was just a load of childish jibberish from my mouth:

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again! It hurts! It stings! I'll behave! I'll be good! Oh please stop, Mom. Please!"


 
These were the ones I've used:

"I don't want a spanking!" - Duh! No kid wants one.

"I won't do it again!"- A promise a child may not be able to keep

"I'm too old for a spanking!" - All of my spankings occurred between the ages of 2-12; so I know this wasn't true.

"You're the meanest mom (or dad)!"- That was very untrue.

"Why do I have to get so many spankings?"- I know I wasn't spanked as often as my older brother and sister were, and some other children as well. I did get off relatively easy.

"I hate you!"- Very untrue; and not the most appropriate thing to say under the circumstances.


 
When our mother spanked us with her switch, usually we were standing with her holding our hands up out of her way and she would aim for the backs of bare legs as we danced about in a circle around her.

Dad would use his belt as we bent across the bed. His target was the lower part of the buttocks -- the part that came in contact with the chair when sitting. However, it was not unusual for the upper thighs and the crease separating legs and butt to be included.

I guess my classic [silly statement] was, "STOP IT, you're hurting me!!" And my dad would reply, "You are getting a spanking, young lady. It is supposed to hurt!"

I also remember my husband having to fight a chuckle when our young daughter informed him that she was "a Princess and Princesses do NOT get spanked!" immediately before warming her little rear end with a paint stick.

The lesson of learning to obey one's parents was an extremely important one when I was growing up and it was equally important in my own household when raising my own children. It makes me very sad to observe young parents today who don't really even expect obedience from their children when they tell them to do something.

I remember my own daughter, who was the strong willed variety (can't imagine where she got that from!) sitting in the bathtub one evening when she was about 5 years old after being spanked for leaving our yard chanting, "Obey, obey -- that's ALL I ever hear and I don't EVEN know what it means." I did make sure she had no further confusion about exactly what it meant after that.


 
Maybe because we learned from experience that when used correctly spanking works. It was a part of growing up when I was a kid... My parents provided me with a good home, clothes, good food, a lot of things I didn't really need (even when times were tough) lot's of love and a little bit of discipline... I enjoy a good relationship with my parents now and don't harbor any ill feelings towards them because the spanked me... They gave me a strong sense of values which I still hold on to today. I followed their example with my own children, and while I have to say I haven't spanked my children anywhere near as much as I was spanked (mainly because it wasn't needed as often), I feel that my children were better for it.

I've always felt those who carried the excess baggage ("I have a terrible relationship with my parents now because they spanked my little bottom.") were more than a little childish. I agree some parents overdo it, even to the point of being abusive, but I feel you should learn to move on. One person in particular was a friend and former co-worker of mine. We were all setting around in the break room talking about our kids and the subject got around to discipline. One woman spoke up while we talked about the "beatings" our little darlings had to endure, and she snapped at us and walked out of the room. As she was a friend I followed her to find out what was bothering her. When I asked her what was wrong, she started telling me about her horrible childhood, the abuse she suffered at the hands of her mother and the fact she hardly ever spoke to her. I finally asked her what her mother used to do to her. She said, "she used to beat me". I said, "She beat you?" Having known her since high school and couldn't begin to see her as an abusive parent. So I asked her, "What did she do?" She said, "She used to put me over her lap and spank my bare bottom." I asked, "and...." She just stared at me in disbelief and said, "Didn't you hear me, she used to pull my panties down and spank my bare bottom." I asked what she hit her with, and she said her hand. Then I started laughing. I said, "Honey, You weren't abused, you were spanked." I told her about the spankings I got when I was a kid, and some of them were a lot worse than just a few slaps on the bare bottom. That I got spankings with flyswatters, paddles, hairbrushes and belts as well as by hand. She had no idea other people spanked their kids on the bare fanny and thought her mother was sick for doing it. I told her, I bet most people have had their bare bottom spanked at least once in their life, and anybody that hasn't probably should have.


 
I was really young when I [first] remember my mom yanking my pants and panties down for a spanking. I don't remember what I did because I was really little, but I remember my mom telling me behave or I'd get another spanking. I learned what spankings were very quickly.

My mother had the homemade wooden spoon. It was thicker and heavier than most wooden spoons. It was just our luck that mom used that spoon for spanking.

I tried several times to hide that horrible spoon. My mother was a stay at home mom and a neat-nick. She always seemed to find it.

I thought I was successful at hiding it once. My sister and I were about 7 and 6 at the time. We got in trouble together and my mom was looking for her wooden spoon. She must have given up looking for it because she grabbed her red, plastic spoon to spank my sister and I with. I think that plastic spoon hurt just as much, if not more than the wooden one.

When I was little, from about the ages of 6-9, my friends and I would talk about our spankings. I used to think I was the only one with a mom who spanked bare bottom. That was until I met my friend Sherry. It sounded like she received it worse than I did.

I am very fair skinned. I am not only very pale, but also have very sensitive skin. I'd have to say that my parents usually spanked us until our bottoms were pink and warm. There were only two times that I looked at my spanked bottom in a mirror. The first time I was 7 and had been spanked on my bare bottom. The second time I was 12 and received a very hard, belt spanking over my panties. Those were probably two of my worst spankings, and both times my bottom was bright pink (almost red) and hot. There were not lasting marks and the heat eventually went away.


 
I was born in 1968 in rural Australia where I still dwell today. I was the fourth in line out of 8 kids, typical Catholic family back in those days. I was spanked from a very early age by both parents; my last was a month or so before my 17th birthday. I married a guy who was also from a large catholic family and was spanked regularly as a child.

I have five beautiful children. Of course both my partner and I are fully supportive of spanking as a parental tool when required. The laws here allow spanking but not beating, of which is a good decision for parents and common sense. We use hand spankings for the younger ones and the rest have graduated to the “Mr Hairbrush,” always on the bare, same as my husband and I experienced. We Australians don’t seem to use some of the implements I read about here, to my knowledge anyway, such as paddles and switches, though most other things spanking wise are the same in Australia. All my sisters and brothers spank also, except one of my sisters.

Until turning 11 we were always spanked on the bum by hand only. Both folks used to alternate from cheek to cheek starting at the top and working their way down so all over was "well done" but the tops of the legs were spared. After our 11th birthday we graduated to the hairbrush. The hairbrush I hated for two reasons, one because it was far more painful than just an open hand but most of all because towards the end of the spanking both parents would finish on the sit spot which they never seemed to do when using just their hand. Or maybe the hand did not have the same effect there as the hairbrush. Part of me was glad when I felt the first stroke there as I knew the spanking was coming to an end but I also dreaded it as it was hurting far more than what I had already gone through. The amount of strokes there seem to depend on the nature of the crime but you could expect at least 6 on each side. Both parents spanked the same way, my mother told me in later years that it was deliberately done so as both parents wanted to be seen as even handed as opposed to one being harder or softer than the other. Mum lifted her hand a bit higher than Dad but the impact was around the same. I can relate to what Boomhauer mentioned about marks being noticed at the swimming pool. 

In my youth (seventies) it was never heard of for boys or girls to wear shorts while swimming in the county town I lived in. For the girls it was either a one or two piece and for the boys just togs. It wasn’t unusual to notice marks on the upper thighs of kids who were on the receiving end of a spanking a day or so before. Girl’s bikini briefs always use to ride up after say, stepping up the ladder to get out of the pool, so every one behind you had a very good idea who had been spanked. It was no use making a fuss about it either to my folks as that could invite another one. “You know how to avoid a spanking my dear” mum use to say, just behave. Easier said than done!

We had beaches near us that we used to visit quite regularly during the summer months. There were people about but not overly crowded except maybe on a hot weekend. More often than not Mum would be the one to take us. Usually after an hour or so she would have someone over her knee while she sat on the sand for fighting or throwing sand etc. For us girls it was usually bikini bottoms down to our knee, we all tended to wear two piece swim wear when we were younger, and she use to whack us with her thong (what you call sandles or slippers in the US I think).

I must have been around 12 once when my younger brothers and sisters had built a sand castle which looked great. I was in one of my moods and thinking Mum wasn’t around went up and walked through it like it wasn’t there. A couple of adults told my mum what I had done when they saw whose parent the sand castle builders belonged too while I was swimming. I came out of the water, not knowing I had been sprung, and walked up to Mum to grab my towel. As I leant over she grabbed me and there I was over her knees. I was pleading with Mum to let me keep my bikini briefs up and were holding the top of them with one hand. Mum just grabbed my arm with one hand, had the briefs down to my knees and grabbed the thong to start the spanking in one swift action. Mum gave my bum a good tanning though red not brown in color. After the spanking a few parents commented to mum that she was a good parent and no one said anything negative about the episode. The kids on the beach were quite settled for the rest of the afternoon as comments could be heard like “play up and you will get the same” I was mortified over the incident and spent most of the time in the water though I kept my bad mood strictly to myself from that point on.

I once asked my Mum how did she know how long to spank us. I mean all the spankings seemed to go for ages when you are on the receiving end but thinking back I don’t ever remember one that I thought I was going for die over. Some were longer than others, it depended on the crime. Lying would obtain you a longer spanking from either parent than say mouthing off. Swearing was up there with lying, and one had one's mouth soaped as well. Stealing topped the list. Mum said that by the time we were “brush age,” which was 11, she used to give a minimum of around 30.

I spoke to my Mum when I was expecting my first child about why she had spanked us on our bare skin. She said one of the reasons she gave us bare bottom spankings was because it was the way she and dad always got them. She said she was also told by her mum that it made the punishment more meaningful and thus something more to avoid.


 
[My sister] Karen was ten years old and mom was giving her a spanking in the kitchen. She had her bent over one of the kitchen chairs bare bottom up and was wearing her out with a flyswatter, when somebody knocked on the kitchen door. Mom told my sister to stay put, and walked over to the door with the flyswatter in her hand. Two of Karen's friends were asking if she could come out. Mom said, "Karen is getting a spanking right now, you can come back after while." Then she went back to the business at hand. She left wooden door open and her two friends stood there watching wide eyed as mom went back to work on my sister's bare fanny. When she finished spanking her she told her to go to her room, then she turned back towards the door to see her friends still standing there. She walked back to the door still holding the flyswatter and said, "You two need to go home NOW!" Karen will call you later." Both girls took off running home.

 
I bought my Mom an anti-spanking parenting book when I was about 13. It was against spanking in general and said it should never be used on kids my age. I gave it to her for some holiday--birthday, mother's day--not sure.

Mom's remark--something like "I guess we can use this if I can't find my hairbrush"--waste of money.

I never got spanked with it--but I am pretty sure she never read it--if she did she paid it no heed.


 
I went to private school so there weren't any busses to take kids home, so my parents or older brothers would have to come to the school to get us young kids. The school was tiny (12 to a class and only grades K-5) so the parents had to come into the school to get their children. Any misbehaviors were promptly discussed with parents by either the teacher or head staff member (depending on severity). I can recall many times being walked back to the car from the school, mom holding my hand extra tight and high in the air like I was a toddler, being promised a spanking the minute we walked through the door. And like she said, as soon as we were in the house, I was marched to my bedroom or my parents bedroom for my before-mentioned spanking. The only somewhat good thing about these spankings was, they were never serious ones. Just the hand over my skirt or underwear. If you misbehaved too seriously in school, the teacher or head principle would just spank you themselves, and my parents (thank God) wouldn't spank you again at home-just send you to bed for the night (minus the break for bath and dinner of course).

My bottom was never red. Even from the hardest spankings it was slightly pinkened over the roundest area and maybe a little less pink at my upper thighs. I don't know if my mom and dad just didn't spank as hard as some, or if I have lucky skin. (but I do have fair skin that sunburns) This was the same no matter what I was spanked with, even when I was quite young and my mom bared my bottom and used only her hand. It still stung terribly and felt almost wind burned after, but I checked a few times, thinking I could run and show the parent who didn't give me the spanking, and get the other one in trouble, and no redness.


 
Once when I was around 10 it was a summer late morning and several of my friends turned up asking if I could join them in some fun activity, I forget what. My mother came to the door and told them no, I had to help her clean the house that morning. I begged her to let us do our cleaning chores later in the afternoon so I could go with my friends. But after a few entreaties she just said "No and that's final!" in a tone which I could tell meant that I mustn't say another word about it if I knew what was good for me.

In my heart I was furious at her and felt that she was being terribly unfair to me. I didn't dare let my anger show on the outside, even in my expression on my face, because anger towards my parents was absolutely forbidden in our family. If I broke this rule I risked getting a switching, which was the worst punishment in the world when I was a child.

I was as sullen as I dared as we went from room to room together, me dusting and my mother vacuuming. I kept thinking about how much fun my friends were having and about how I was missing it all because I had such a mean mother who was so stupid and unfair. She told me to wipe the pout off my face at least once, which I mostly did, sort of.

Out of spite I also wasn't doing quite as good of a job of dusting as I ought to have done. Indeed I was doing just as poor of a job as I dared. I didn't feel like doing the least bit more for her than I thought I could get away with.

As it turned out I thought I could get away with just a little more than I actually could. We were in the middle of doing my room when she suddenly turned off the vacuum cleaner and said, "I have had quite enough of your attitude young lady. What you need is a good spanking. And that is just what you are going to get."

I certainly felt fear as she sat down on the edge of my bed and put me across her knee and the bed. My mother believed that the Lord commands a parent to discipline a willful child with a spanking, and that a spanking should hurt plenty. And she knew how to make sure that each time she gave me one it always did. But I was so angry at her by that point that I could barely think. And my rage pushed my fear somewhat towards the back of my mind.

I was trying so hard to bottle up my rage from view that I scarcely noticed as she raised my skirts in back and pulled my panties down. I did notice, of course, the moment hard slaps from my mother's hand began on my bare bottom, and the all too familiar sensation she meant for me to feel back there began to quickly build in just the way she intended.

But this only made me angrier than ever. And I was so absorbed with bottling up my anger that after she had gotten to what would normally have been about halfway through the giving to me of my spanking, I realized that I hadn't begun to cry yet. This was even though my pain had passed the point where I would normally have been wailing hard. In that dark moment I formed in my heart a defiant, naughty intention to not give her the satisfaction of making me cry.

She continued longer than she usually did but although tears were spilling from my eyes still I didn't make a sound. Abruptly she shifted me off her lap and got up. (I didn't occur to me at the time that her hand must have begun to hurt too much for her to continue). In stubborn triumph I pulled my panties back on and turned to sit up on my bedside. I imagined to myself that my punishment was over and that I had just won a rare little victory over my mother's authority. But then, after I had wiped my watery eyes with my sleeve I realized she was opening my dresser drawers as if looking for something. A feeling of doubt and dread swept over me.

When she turned back towards me with my biggest hairbrush in her hand I knew I had been very very foolish not to cry. And I began to cry then and there. As she was put me back over her knee and slipped my panties back down once more, I tearfully promised to be good and begged her not to spank me again. By now my anger had vanished and all that remained within me was a very very strong wish not to receive a spanking from Mommy.

But of course a spanking from Mommy was exactly what I did get. And it was a very very sound one indeed. This time I responded just as any badly behaved child ought to respond while receiving a well deserved spanking. By the time my mother brought my chastisement to a close she had me crying just as hard as I could cry with a heart filled only with the wish to be just as much of a good girl as I could be and back in Mommy's good graces again.


 
My mother inherited a strap which family lore attributed to my great grandmother. She was supposed to have had it made for spanking her children by a shoemaker. It was two strips of dark brown leather sown together about 18 inches long and three wide. It had a tapered end for a handle. The family tradition was that the strap should be used on disobedient kids from first grade onward. Before that time, spankings were by hand over mother's knee. After six, the strap was used over the knee until the spankee got too big for over the knee spankings. Then we had to lie bent over the bed kneeling on the floor, and the strap was applied on the bare behind with mother standing. The theory was that a spanking was effective when the behinds were red from upper cheeks to middle thighs, and the offender was crying profusely. Consequently, they had always to be bare behind spankings.

 
Mum always told my sister and I that "naughty girls have their knickers taken down for spankings."

"A smacking was meant to hurt". That was certainly my mother's philosophy and she made sure that a spanking resulted in one very sore bottom. And yes, that of course meant two very red cheeks - and no I didn't like looking at them either because they reminded me so clearly that I'd misbehaved and had been spanked like a naughty girl - which I suppose I was!

For my sister and me, detention at school meant an automatic spanking at home.  Mum called it parent/teacher cooperation. In our case it was dinner and homework.  Once homework was completed Mum would say "OK, now you know what the consequences are of you being in detention, young lady. I suggest we go upstairs." Once there it would be a very sound spanking, with me or my sister promising never ever to repeat the offence that had led to the detention - and after the spanking straight to bed with a very sore bottom.


 
My mom normally started with the youngest first. So if I got spanked with my brother, my bare bottom was first on the receiving end. When my sister and I got spanked together she got it first. It always seemed worse to me to have to watch her bare her bottom and get spanked knowing I was getting it next. than it was to go ahead and get it over with. I would stand there watching her kick and cry as her bottom reddened. Sometimes I couldn't help but break into tears just watching and rubbing my own butt.

On the occasions (and there were only a few) that mom used a belt on one of us, it was always one of dad's dress belts. It was about an inch wide, and about an eighth of an inch thick with black patent leather. Dad usually only wore it when they were dressing up to go someplace special. The rest of the time it was kept in the top drawer of their chest of drawers. It was a very effective inplement especially when used on a bare behind. Even when fashions changed from thinner belts to the wide belts (late 60's or early 70's) mom still used that belt for spankings. I remember getting scared hearing that drawer open and close and the noise of the belt buckle as she folded it, even if I wasn't the one getting spanked.


 
Personally I never got a bare bottom spanking but sometimes I had the bad fortune of accepting my father's belt to the upper bare thighs together with the whipping of my covered by underwear behind. I have to say that in my childhood I never wore thin panties, like the most girls during 1980's and perhaps till today. Compearing the strokes got over my underwear with those of the bare part I pointed out difference only to the first stroke between the two parts. The first sense of the belt on my bare skin was more painful than that over panties. But there wasn't any remarkable difference between the second strokes on each part, the bare and the covered, and thereafter till the end of the whole process. I think that is related with the high sensitivity of the skin which decreases remarkably after the first painful stimulation.

In our home, when my brother and I were going to be spanked both from our father with the horrible but so "familiar" to us instrument, the belt, the method was usually as follows. He led us to our bedroom, or very rarely to that of our parents, closed the door and firstly put me down for the belt because I was two years older than my brother and so I was expected to be more circumspect! But before laying me down on my stomach over the side of the bed he told to my brother phrases as:
"Now you have the opportunity to attend what will happen to your sister for her disobedience. Be prepared psychologically for the same after I will have finished with her." (translation)
Immediately after, he ordered me to take the known position while he was taking off the belt from his trousers. It seemed so cruel to me. When I had got enough, as the spankings with the belt never were light and they hadn't very short duration, I stood up and my brother took quickly my position while that moment I had the role of the viewer.

When I grew up our father used his belt on us very often for any kind of bad behaviour or disobedience. With the exception of a few hand spankings I received from both of my parents, all the other times I got my fathers belt. When he decided to give me a whipping, first of all I saw the scene of him unbuckling and taking off the belt from his trousers. That scene was always very clearly remained in my memory as the first step of the unplesant experience followed after some seconds. So, my fear for the belt as an object was intense because I had related it with the corporal punishment. Early in my childhood I found myself every time I heard the sound of my father's belt, like when he dressed up or the opposite, recalling my spankings in mind. Only the characteristic sound of the buckle was enough to touch off the memories. Generally I had an aversion against belts till my late puberty for that reason. The belt symbolized for me an instrument which causes pain.


 
When I was four, my mom got to her wits end with me once during a camping trip. I hadn't been spanked yet, but I knew my brothers were. I never saw those spankings, so I didn't know what really happened when you got one. When the last straw was about to break, mom very loudly, in front of the whole family (no strangers) informed me that if I didn't stop hitting my brother Ryan, I was going to get a spanking. She was very serious and gave me many details so everyone could hear. She told me she would put me over her knee and pull my pants and knickers (her Brit word, not mine) down and slap my bum (another Brit word) hard. She said it would be bright red and hurt terribly and to knock it off unless I wanted one. I was petrified after that, so it took 5 months or so for me to mess up badly enough to actually get one.

I've been told the first time I got spanked was when I was about 4. I was at our beach house and my dad took me from the water to feed me lunch. I ran back to the water without him twice, receiving a stern scolding each time. The third time I did it, my dad was turned away and thank God my brother Dylan saw and yelled, "Dad the baby is going to the shore". My dad scooped me up and I still thought he was playing some game of chase with me. He knelt down and scolded me, turning my little body around and swatting my bathing suit bottom pretty sharply twice. I screamed and carried on so much we all had to go inside because I was ruining the day for everyone. I don't remember this event though. The first one I really remember was when I was 4 1/2 and I went outside and bought ice cream from the ice cream man, after my mom told me no. I took money from her purse, went outside alone and went against her word. Aside from that recalled swat on the beach, I hadn't been spanked yet at that age. My mom quickly found me out and took me to my room for my first spanking. It was bare bottom over her knee with her hand. I carried on for long time after and was made to sit at the dinner table and watch everyone eat since I wasn't hungry from my ice cream. I was devastated when my mom put me over her knee, and I remember how much that spanking stung and how hard it made me cry. She didn't smack me that many times, but I felt that spanking while I sat for at least 20 minutes. The warm tingling was new and I didn't like it one bit. I also didn't like my mom until much later that night, then I wanted lots of kisses and cuddles, which she gave me.


 
My older brother Brad learned some cuss words on the playground. I was the gulllible little sister who wanted so much to fit in with my big brother and sister. My terrible big brother was around 7 at the time. He told me to say the f-word and a-word to our mom and she would think it was funny. I didn't have any idea what those two awful words meant at the time, but I carried out the plan. I said the two words around my mom. I know I really shocked her because she looked at me and said, "What did you say?" I thought she didn't hear me, so I repeated the words.

My mother was very quick! I was across her lap with my pants and panties around my knees. She used her wooden spoon to plaster my butt. She scolded me throughout the spanking about using filthy words. She really lambasted my bare bottom.

I started dreading spankings from a very young age. My parents weren't harsh, but I remember the PAIN and STING very well. I tried to avoid going "over the knee." As a child, that was VERY hard, as I always seemed to find trouble. Just hearing my parents threaten a spanking was sometimes enough to stop my misbehavior.

Not having control over how hard or how long you might be spanked - those were things that came to my mind as I was waiting or about to be spanked by one of my parents. My mother had a temper and there were times when she would write a story on my bottom (either bare or covered). That would mean she would scold me the whole time she was spanking me. My father would sometimes surprise me by lowering my pants. He left my panties up but the strap hurts much worse over a pair of underwear. I know my dad gave my older brother and sister a couple of bare bottom spankings with the belt. When I was across my dad's knee, that used to be one of my biggest fears. I wondered if what I did was bad enough for my dad to bare my bottom. When I was across my dad's knee there was nothing I could do but submit to the spanking. As a child, not knowing how bad you are going to "get it" is really scary.


 
Mom and I were in a store, and I saw a very (unknown to me at the time) pregnant woman coming down the aisle towards us. I pointed to her and said, "Mommy, how come that lady's so fat?"  Needless to say, my mom, was very red with embarrassment. She reached down, swatted me with her hand, while scolding me, then apologized to the woman, who was also embarrassed. Crying softly now, I was taken to the car. Once we were on our way, I was told I was going to get a spanking when I got home. When we got home, mom took me by the hand to my room, sat on my bed, took my pants and underpants down, put me over her lap, held me down, flattened her hand, and gave it to me good, (6 swats). When she was done, she told me to stay in my room until she came back to talk to me, then walked out, leaving me alone, crying, to contemplate what just happened. Thirty minutes later she came back for the "talk," explaining why what I did was wrong, and hence, why I got spanked for it. Then she took me in her arms, and cuddled and rocked me in her lap.

 
I was five and it was right before Chrissie. We had all gotten together at my grandparents home and my cousins, brothers, sisters and I were told a certain room was off limits. Of course, that intrigued us and we were certain our Chrissie prezzies were there so first chance we got we headed for that forbidden room. We were very quiet and went there on tiptoe. It was probably that quiet that alerted the adults that we were all up to something. The mob of us were caught opening the door and a flurry of aunts/mums were upon us instantly. We were escorted back to the lounge room and paddywhackings commenced. My mum and aunts would grab any child not crying and turn it into a crying child, the child didn't have to belong to them. Skirts were lifted or shorts were lowered and we all got several sharp smacks to our bums and thighs. There were 18 very sorry children with red bums and thighs.

 
As children we all felt the sting of a spanking and that moment when I realized I was over the line from being a child in a safe zone to the real danger zone. That last warning to "straighten up" "settle down" whether it was given once or twice is over - and now I am in the moments right before a spanking when my heart pumps and my nerves begin to shake and I start my usual plea for a reprive of what is to come. But I can hear Mom getting the paddle down and she is calling me.  My pleas are not being heard as she calls me by my full given name and is pulling out a chair and I know if I tarry it will upset her and make it worse but so bad I do not want to go to her and bend over and get spanked with her paddle. But i go not slowly not normal still pleading and tears are not far from coming and I plead and promise. And a mother who loves me so is not remotely moved by my cries.Why did I not listen and why did I keep doing what I was told to stop doing? All my insides swirl and I feel so scared but I am close enough now that she can grab my arm and now I must prepare for the worst as I am bent over and that first smack of the paddle hits me and I cry she is swinging fast and hard and I am crying harder and my bottom is hurting more and more and she is not slowing oh it stings and I wish so much she would stop but it continues seemingly for several minutes (but in reality not so many) she stops finally and lets me up and I grab my butt and cry so loud and jump around a little having going through this far to many times by now in all the years.

 
I remember a couple of REAL spankings that I got on my birthday once. It was on my 10th birthday. Because of my birthdate, based on at least the American school calendar, sometimes my birthday was after the school year had ended (during the summer holidays) and at other times my birthday came when school was still in session (albeit during the last week or two, or even the final few days)

Anyway in this school, there was a tradition that on a student's birthday, the parents of the birthday girl or boy would bring in some treat (usually cupcakes) to pass out to the class, and the teacher, and other students would sing "Happy Birthday", and generally treat the birthday girl or boy like a VIP that day (give them a free pass on homework and/or tests, etc.)

Because for the previous year or two, my birthday had fallen after the school year ended, I was especially excited to be able to celebrate it in school with my classmates and friends.

But, just before my birthday, my aunt (my mom's sister) had come to visit from India, and with all the hecticness, and preparation of her arrival, for some reason, I don't know why, my mom didn't remember to get my birthday treats to bring to school.

So on the morning of my birthday, when my mom told me she didn't have any treats to pass out, I was really upset.

I asked her why she couldn't just go to the supermarket in the morning, and bring it to the school later (since birthday treats were usually passed out sometime in the afternoon - usually after lunch)

Mummy refused to go to the grocery store after we'd left for school. She said that she had too much stuff to do with & for my aunt and she didn't have time to go to the supermarket and bring treats for me and my class.

I was really upset, and didn't want to go to school, because after all the excitement of being able to celebrate my birthday at school, I didn't want to show up empty-handed.

So I got angry and refused to go to school, telling my mom that she was selfish, for choosing her sister over me, her child, and I railed against my aunt, yelling that if she hadn't come, this wouldn't have happened, and I would have had something to pass out at school. I told them that I hated them, and I told my aunt that I wished she had never come and that she had ruined my 10th birthday.

Even though my mom was understanding, and let me vent my anger, and frustration, my aunt (who is a lot meaner, and stricter in general) did not. She grabbed me and lifting up my dress, she yanked down my panties and started repeatedly smacking my bottom and back of thighs with a wooden spoon she had been holding. I just kept screaming at her as she hit me, and I don't know how many swats I got, but it must have been quite alot.

Because even though my aunt sent me out to the bus stop right after (not even letting me wash my teary face) I lifted up my dress and glanced in the mirror, in our foyer on the way out, and the tops of my thighs were bright red (I didn't get a chance to check my bottom though, of course)

It was a horrible day in school and an even worse birthday. Even though my classmates, friends, and teacher wished me for my birthday, it didn't make me feel any better. My friends and classmates could see I was down, and tried to cheer me up. Especially after my best friend accidentally caught a glimpse of my thighs during recess, and I let on what happened, and that I didn't have any birthday treats because of my mom, they sat with me and commiserated, consoling and comforting me, trying to be compassionate. But it was still a really rotten day, and when I got home, I was still in the same bad mood.

My nasty aunt (who I still hate to this day, for other reasons) must have managed to convince my mom, during that day, to become a lot stricter and tougher that she already was.

Because, practically as soon as I walked in the door, after school, my mom asked me to wash the dishes (a sinkful of dirty dishes), tidy up the kitchen, and then clean up and vacuum the playroom. Mummy told me that after I had finished all that I would be getting a spanking and mouth-soaping for the way I'd spoken to her and my aunt that morning.

That was the last straw. It was supposed to be my birthday, and they were treating me so unfairly. I refused to do those chores. Instead, I started crying and shouting how unfair they were, that they had barely even bothered to wish me, and that my friends, classmates and teachers had been nicer to me that day than they were, and so on.

That's when Mummy grabbed me, and sending my older sister out into the yard for a switch, she quickly bared me from the waist down, and turned me over her knee, smacking my behind with her hand and the wooden spoon, until Monica appeared with the switch

Then my mom took me to the bathroom and washed my mouth out with soap. Afterwards she made me bend over the bathroom sink and she went to work on my bottom and thighs with the switch.

Mummy gave me about a dozen strokes (approximately, I didn't count) with the switch, and then sent me to my room to wait for my father, telling me that as I had made it crystal-clear, it was my birthday, and since I was now 10, I was old enough to get a taste of Daddy's belt.

Later that evening, Daddy spanked me with his hand and then gave me 10 swats with his belt, saying that he'd "let me off easy" since it was my birthday, and that when he used the belt, he usually gave 2 strokes for each year in age.

But on top of the spankings I'd gotten from my aunt, and from my mom, it was pure agony.

Quite a long time afterwards, (after my nasty aunt had left) my mom tried to apologize for having been so insensitive and harsh with me that day. But the damage was done, and I still remember that birthday as one of the worst birthdays of my life.


 
I remember being young and thinking my birthday was an open invitation to treat my family like slaves. My mom, dad and older brothers usually let it slide because it was my "special" day, but if I got too out of hand I would be warned to stop. I think only once did I actually get a real spanking. I was bossing my mom around for a bit too long and was getting out of hand. She took me upstairs to my room and "suggested" I take a 1/2 hour to calm down and be more polite when my dad got home with my brothers and we'd go to dinner. I huffed and said something under my breath and she sat me down with a sad look on her face. She told me that she was trying to help me avoid a spanking and asked me to apologize and be nice. I huffed again, and she said that while she didn't want me to have to go through getting a spanking on my birthday, she absolutely could not allow me to be so rude to everyone (I was being a snot all day) anymore. She placed me across her lap, raised my brand new birthday dress above my waist and spanked my panties pretty hard with her hand. After a dozen slaps she stopped and asked for her apology. I gave it to her through sobs, and she thanked me. She finished my spanking by pulling my underwear so my bottom barely popped out and gave me 6 sharp slaps that stung more (because I believe she used much more force with those) than the earlier 12. My cries turned to yells and before I had time to reach back my panties went right back up and I was off her lap dancing around. She told me it would be between the two of us (usually she told my dad about my spankings right away when he arrived home) although I'm sure she told him later in privacy- and led me to my bathroom to wash my face and fix my sweaty hair. I was a bit angry, but she was right and even at 7 I realized it.

 
When I was little, there were two kinds of chastisements I was subject to from my father. The first kind was a "spanking." The second kind, and the more severe of the two, was a "licking." Daddy reserved lickings for when I had been especially naughty, such as lying to him, or for when I did something I had gotten spanked for on an earlier occasion but hadn't learned my lesson.

Both kinds involved me face down across his lap with my skirts turned up in back crying from a stinging bottom. The only difference was Daddy's belt. I got my spankings from him with his big heavy hand. But for a licking, his belt came off and he would wrap it around his hand several times until just the end was still hanging there rather like a long tongue. And then that tongue would "lick" the seat of my panties until I was a very very sorry little girl indeed.

I wasn't exactly afraid of his belts, but reading this thread reminds me of a couple of times when I went into my parents' closet where my father's belts hung from nails on the wall and touched them, wondering that a little strip of cow skin could be such a horrendous instrument of pain in the hand of a Daddy. I remember feeling as if I were doing something bad when I did this, and I remember listening anxiously to make sure no one was coming up the stairs or down the hall. But I truly don't know which rule I imagined I was breaking, probably none.

By the time I started high school, my father considered me too old for a spanking across his knee. But he didn't consider me too old for a licking bent over the end of my bed or the arm of the sofa. Fortunately for me, punishments from my father were rare by then, but they still happened from time to time. And when they did, he really knew how to make them hurt. I was as afraid of my father's discipline when I was fifteen as when I was five, and I am sure I cried just as hard while receiving it.

My father didn't take down my panties for my spankings, at least not when I was old enough to remember clearly. I definitely got my skirts raised, though. Because Daddy was a man, this was embarrassing and shaming for me in a way the bare bottom spankings my mother gave were not.

I don't believe Daddy tried deliberately to humiliate me. He just wanted my punishment to be effective. I grew up in the fifties and early sixties, often dressed in a full skirt with a petticoat or two underneath. A spanking could not have made a sufficient impression on me through all that padding.

Still, it was upsetting and confusing because my parents really stressed modesty in their training of me. I was taught to sit, walk and play like a lady, and never let my thighs show, and certainly never let my panties show, especially when boys or men could see me. This included Daddy. But whenever he spanked me, up came my skirts. And then for a brief while the seat of my panties was in his full view and the center of his punitive attention.


 
I wasn't allowed to show resentment or anger towards my parents at all. For instance, if I were told to clean my room when I didn't wish to, and I headed up the stairs to obey but stomped a little too loudly on each step or slammed my door behind me, I could get a spanking for that. A loud frustrated sigh from me was also not permissable when told to do something. And complaining or backtalk, especially in a whiny or petulant tone, was not tolerated, particularly by my mother.

It might sound as if I must have gotten spanked daily, but I didn't. I learned not to show anger and the older I grew, the more I sometimes wouldn't even realize I was angry when I was. This took its toll on me because as an adult I have a difficult time standing up to someone who is trying to brow beat me into doing something I don't want to do, or standing up to someone who is violating my boundaries in some way. When I was little it was so instilled in me to always submit and never to stand up for myself and say No that I never really learned how to undo that training.

When my daughter was growing up I don't believe I ever spanked her simply for pouting. But I do remember on more than one occasion holding a hand mirror in front of her face so she could see what she looked like when she did, lol!


 
I went to a Catholic school with nuns.  No, they were not as bad as you think, they were strict, but usually very friendly, fair and understanding. They did have full authority to punish however and when they did there was no need to notify your parents.  They stung you good and made sure you understood that additional bad behavior would result in not sitting comfortably for the rest of the day.  It rarely happened. 
Mostly what happened in school stayed there. Sometimes they decided to send home a note if the bad behavior was ongoing lack of work, bad attitude, slipping grades, etc. or if it was a very serious one time thing.
I got a few notes that resulted in a scolding with Mom holding her big wooden spoon and a few licks to emphasize what she was saying but it was only a few, maybe 3 or 4, and I hesitate to call it a spanking. Twice I got two notes within a couple of weeks, the second resulting in a good lickin', not quite a major punishment but Mom certainly expressed her displeasure that I hadn't learned from the first scolding! One phone call home from high school did result in a spanking and I didn't do anything in school at all! I wasn't even there! I cut ! Mom gave my bare thighs and butt her big wooden spoon until she was sure I wouldn't even think of cutting again.
I got my last [spanking] as a freshman in high school for cutting and it was memorable to say the least even if it had not been the last.  It was only in adulthood that I knew that my last childhood spanking was behind me (sorry, no pun intended.) It wasn't my parent's choice not to spank any more, only my own behavior which didn't earn me another one. I am confident that if I mouthed off to my mom even as an adult she would not have hesitated to smack my mouth hard enough to bring tears to remind me of the respect I owed her but that smack was never needed because she raised me to show proper respect at all times. And what is a spanking anyway? Would a smack across a disrespectful mouth count as a spanking?

 
I got spanked by my dad for getting into a yelling match with my mom. I put up a real fight before he subdued me and spanked me on the seat of my pants with his hand. At this point we were on the floor and I was across his lap.

It was a real donnybrook for awhile and I think dad realized that if he wanted to continue trying to spank me he was either going to actually damage me or risk taking some damage himself. The spanking before that one was an old fashioned bare-bottom otk. Me crying, begging, pleading, promising, the whole nine yards. This one was a full blown fight, I tried to and actually did cause some injury to him. I also cursed him, threatened to kill him, and pretty much made it clear that I was going to give as good as I got.

So, anyhow. A few weeks later he and I got into it again over something and when his body language said I was on the verge of a beating, my body language said... Come on dad, try it!!! He backed down and I knew I'd never get spanked again. I still got an occasional slap in the face from my mother, but never again did either of them try to put me over their knee.


 
Whenever I was spanked at the same time as either or both of my older sisters, we were always sent to our bedrooms to wait for Dad to come upstairs. Dad would simply start in the bedroom which was closest to the top of the stairs - Julienne, my middle sister, then Sara, who was oldest, then me. Naturally it wasn't always all three of us at the same time, more often only two, but because my bedroom was furthest away from the top of the stairs, I was always last. I used to wish I had Julienne's room so I could get it over with first - hearing the other two get spanked while waiting for my turn was torture. I remember one time when it was just Julienne and me getting spanked, when I would have been about eight, while Dad was with Julienne, I decided I wasn't going to hang around waiting for my turn, so I ran - down the stairs and out of the front door - Dad cut Julienne's spanking short and had to chase me up the road so he could bring me back to the house and spank me. I stopped running before I was about two hundred yards from the house, and let myself be caught, I'd kind of lost my nerve by then. Naturally when we got back to the house, me crying my eyes out, I got spanked, but actually not too badly - probably less than I deserved - I found out years later, that by the time he got me back to my room, Dad had begun to see the funny side, and could hardly bear to spank me - he might even have let me off altogether if he hadn't already spanked Julienne and knew it wouldn't be fair not to.

 
Friends of mine had a young teenage girl of about 13. We were round there one day when the subject of discipline came up somehow. Their daughter said quite firmly, "Father, I don't think you spanking me does me any good," to which her Dad replied, "If it doesn't do you any good, it certainly does me good!"

 
On one occasion as a child I went shopping with my mother at a department store. For some reason I was having a bad day and was in a sulky grumpy mood for no reason. I didn't want to be going shopping with her and generally had a bad attitude.

Once she had done all her errands we went to the elevators to take one down to the street level. While waiting for an elevator to come, she reprimanded me in a calm tone for my attitude. This continued as we boarded the crowded elevator and began to go down. I should have realized I was in trouble and I should have expressed repentence for my wrong attitude. But I was just too full of my self centered sulkiness and instead I just ignored her as much as I dared. If I had apologized and promised to behave I think the scolding she gave me might have been all I would have received; but I didn't and it wasn't.

So I suppose while we were halfway to the street level and I was still indifferent to her lecture that she must have had enough and decided I needed to be spanked. She certainly informed me of her decision at that moment. When she had finished reviewing all the little ways I had been a bad girl during the whole shopping trip she concluded, "And when we get home I'm going to turn you over my knee, pull down your panties, and give you a good spanking."

I have no doubt she said this in the same normal tone of voice she had been using up until then. But at the time she suddenly seemed terribly loud to my ears. I looked at the elevator floor, blushing, my eyes tearing up, wishing I could disappear. I was certain that everyone in the elevator heard, that every head turned my way, and that every mind pictured me with my panties pulled down getting my spanking.

If anyone in that elevator was thinking about what a good citizen I was going to grow up to be someday due to having a Mommy who was going to spank me when we got home, I'm afraid knowing that wouldn't have made the episode any easier for me to bear. I just didn't want them to know about what was going to happen to me when my mother got me home, especially the part about how my panties were going to be pulled down.  I especially didn't want men in the elevator imagining what a certain very private part of me would look like with no clothes on.

My mother wasn't trying to humiliate me, but she certainly succeeded.  She was just thoughtless.  She did this same kind of thing to me more than once.

There were occasions years later where I was out in public with my daughter when she was little, and she misbehaved persistently enough that I felt I had to resort to promising her a spanking as soon as we got home.  But I took care not only to inform her of this without strangers hearing, but to do it in a way so that she could tell that no strangers heard.  Her naughty behavior and Mommy's response to it was not something which anyone outside of our family needed to know about.


 
My mom favored the spoon. She had a big one, 16 inches total length, heavy and strong and it sure did sting! If I argued or needed a scolding she would wave it around and I became very courteous and polite, amenable to her slightest suggestion. Sometimes she would give me a sting or two on my thighs so I would pay attention to the message but usually she just laid it down on the counter, handy if she needed it. And of course there were a few times when scolding wasn't enough, a punishment was needed. Down came my pants and I got my butt well and truly warmed. It was very effective, because I never needed a second lesson, one was enough. Thank goodness she did a lot more cooking than spanking with it.
Growing up I was the only kid around who got smacked with the spoon. Each mom had her own favorite, belts being the most common. Mom told me she chose the spoon on the advice of our neighbor who said that's what her mom had used on her. Her kid didn't get the spoon though, it was wait until dad gets home and dad favored a belt. That kid was about 5 years older than me and I heard her a few times yelling and crying.

"Wait til your father gets home" never happened in my home. My mom thought that as my dad was out all day working he deserved peace and quiet when he got home so I was required to have my homework finished and all discipline issues settled before he came in. If I needed to be punished my mom would take care of it as soon as she found out about the misbehavior. Mostly a scolding with the wooden spoon at the ready to make sure I listened! She waved it around a lot more than she actually smacked with it but she gave me enough so that I knew that any threatened spanking was not just an empty threat! She ended many an argument about when to do homework by getting that spoon out and laying it on the counter within easy reach. Sometimes between it's home in the drawer and the counter top it would make a brief stopover at my thigh! A good sting or two is all I got but it was enough to remind me to do what I was told without so much argument. She would always return it to the drawer before my dad came in to at least keep up the appearance of domestic tranquility. As I think back I cannot remember any time when my father hit me. There were a few scoldings but never a swat as far as I can remember.


 
On my tenth birthday I got a Scout pocket knife. Some time later my sister used it to cut into the siding of the house. (Well I know it wasn't me, and I'm sure it wasn't my mother or 3 year old brother.) In any case I got spanked for it despite my protests of innocence.

Some time later I took some of Maggie's chewing gum and stomped it into the living room carpet. Since I never liked gum, this was pretty safe thing to do to get back at her. She got spanked for that.


 
We had a pool that was one of those circular, aboveground pools. Fooling around in the pool was always a big no-no at our house. When I was 13 I think, my older sister was sitting on the side of our pool. She was dry and wearing a bathing suit. I thought she was tanning and I thought it would be funny to push her in. I ran at her from behind and shoved her back so she went flying into the pool. I remember that she screamed so loud and Mom came running from the kitchen. Katie got out of the pool soaked and angry. She started yelling and then ran at me. Mom grabbed her before she started throwing punches and told her to calm down. I realized how much trouble I was in when I found out that Katie had been reading one of her novels for English class on the side of the pool while trying to get a tan. That novel was now waterlogged and ruined thanks to me. My mom was angry too when she heard that I had pushed my sister in, and ruined school property. She told Katie to find a good switch and run it into the house. Then, she dragged me by the arm into the house while scolding me. She told me that I was lucky because Katie hadn’t gotten hurt. I apologized and pleaded with her not to switch me. She told me that I knew better and that I wasn’t going to get switched just yet. She was going to get my bottom ready for a good switching. She had me wait in the kitchen while she grabbed her hairbrush from the living room where she had used it earlier that day on my younger sister. She came back and sat down on a chair at the kitchen table and put me over her lap. My panties came down with my pants and Mom gave me a lot of sharp smacks with the brush before Katie came in with a long and springy switch as happy as ever. I then had to stand up and lean over the chair so Mom could deliver the rest of the spanking with the switch. She used it on my thighs as well as my bottom. When she finished I was wailing. I had to pay for the book, too.

 
I was spanked with the hand, the belt, the hairbrush, the wooden spoon, and the plastic spoon and more.  For me, the hairbrush hurt soooooooooooooo bad, the worst ever, and the paint stirrer hurt the least, maybe even less than the hand! It did make a scary noise, though.

When I would be spanked with the wooden hairbrush I would howl and thrash, as the pain was so intense. Then, at some point, I would kind of go limp, the howling changed to a more gutteral sound, and my struggling seemed to stop. I would be covered in sweat. My mom kept on spanking away. She felt that the fact that I stopped howling and squirming meant that I had been faking the pain earlier. In my memories, that wasn't the case. If I could have stopped myself howling and thrashing, I would have, as I knew she hated that from me and it made her spank all the harder. But I was never able to control either that part of my response, or when I became limp. I sure wish I had been able to, it would have shortened the spankings, I think

The place where I got spanked was not a place to which I attached negative emotions. I do agree with some other comments on this board, though, about forming negative emotions about the items used on us.  Nadia I think, mentions her intense fear of the belt, even when her Dad was simply getting dressed in another room.  Other people mention a quick burst of fear when they heard the drawer where the spanking tool was kept being opened for a different reason, etc. I had, and probably still have, some of those knee jerk responses!

When I would hear the drawer opening where my mom kept the hairbrush, it was a knee jerk response of fear, before my cognitive brain told me, relax, it's okay, she is just doing something else... My daddy did use his belt on me, but my primal fears were of mom and the hairbrush. It really really did hurt when he did belt me, but the hairbrush was a different kind of blinding pain for me. It may have been who was doing the spanking too. I think we all handled it differently, developed different coping mechanisms, and, for some of us, these subconsious reactions became a part of us.


 
I can't remember a time when I wasn't fascinated with spankings. When I was about 8 or so, my babysitter spanked her granddaughter on her bare bottom in the living room while I was sitting in there. I had been sitting there watching TV moments before the spanking unfolded. There was another time at the babysitter's when I saw a boy being hauled off to the bathroom for a spanking (by his dad) and I remember hearing the swats and cries. I grew up in the southern U.S., and its pretty traditional for parents to be no-nonsense and spank kids. More than anything, on occasions like these, I was completely fascinated - amazed - and I had a jittery feeling in my stomach. Even though I was really young, I was aware that all this was a MUCH bigger deal to me than to everyone else around me...so I was sure to not act very interested.

I also remember a time at private school (age 13) when I went to the dean's office. I was outside his actual office, giving a message to his secretary I think, and all of a sudden I heard about ten loud smacks of a belt coming from his office. I was absolutely shocked. I asked the secretary what was happening and she explained it to me. Evidently, one of the girls was to be punished, and usually we were given 3-4 swats with the paddle when we misbehaved, but this girl's mother did not want her daugter to ever be punished with a wooden paddle - so as a compromise, the dean gave it to her with his belt. I saw the door open, and he was putting the belt back on. I couldn't believe it. Just thinking about right now gives me all sorts of tingly feelings. This incident probably made a bigger impression in terms of spanking than any other. I really respected the dean, who was very strict, intelligent, tall with a deep voice...and was generally very fair. He was an ideal father figure to me. After that, fair spankings, especially those administerd by caring men seemed really ideal.


 
I have an older brother and sister and a younger brother and sister. My older brother, Chris, my older sister, Hailey, and I were the closest in age of any of us, all being less than two years apart. I remember one Saturday when I was 15. I had been testing my father all day. I hadn't done any of the chores I was supposed to do on Friday before I went to sleepover at my friend's house. My Dad had told me he wanted me home by noon on Saturday, and of course I walked in past one. He yelled at me and told me that I wasn't going to do anything that night, and to start my chores. I was mad and when I started to empty the dishwasher I slammed some dishes down, breaking and chipping some of them. I immediately regretted my actions and my temper. My Dad was pretty angry and he yelled, "That's it!" and I knew I was going to get it.

He had already given me about 8 spanks when my brother and his friends came in the house to grab something to drink. They must have heard the sound of the paddle hitting bare skin because they all came to the big doorway between the kitchen and the living room to sneak a look. I saw them out of the corner of my eye and I turned to see Chris and three of his cute, 16 year old friends grinning at my bare behind. I could feel my face turn beet red and I thought I was going to die from embarrassment. I wailed, "Dad!" He stopped spanking me and turned around. I quickly pulled up my jeans, mortified. My dad practically roared for them to get out of the house, and all of the boys ran for it. I hadn't been crying during the spanking (thank goodness) but I sure started then. I couldn't believe they had all seen me getting a paddling. Dad checked to see if they had left, but they must have hightailed it out of there because they weren't even in the yard. I was sitting on the chair, still really humiliated when Dad came back in. He said he was sorry, he hadn't known that Chris was even going to be home. Then he told me to turn around and take down my pants because he hadn't finished my punishment. I argued with him for a while, telling him that I had been punished enough. He responded by telling me that he would do it for me. So my pants came down in the end (much to my dismay) and I got an even longer spanking.

Chris’ friends teased me after that. They told me that I had a cute butt, which wasn't all that bad. Or when I did or said something in school or anywhere else, they'd say, "Watch it, or I’ll take you over my knee," or "I might have to tell your Dad you said that, and we both know what will happen then," or "You don't want another spanking do you?" It was all okay though, because less than a year later all of my friends and all of my brother's friends started hanging out, and I even dated a couple of them.


 
I don't really know or remember when I got my first spanking. I do know that at an early age, either parent would deliver a smack on the seat of my pants with their hand when necessary to get my attention for disobedience or whatever. Then, probably about age 4 or 5, I remember my mother using a small switch on my legs or hand on my butt or thigh.

When I was about 9 years old (my sisters were 12 and 7), things changed drastically in our household where corporal punishment was concerned. One afternoon my parents sat the three of us down in the den for a "family meeting" and announced that they were not "doing it properly" and from this point forward, "the event" of punishment would be different. My dad explained that offenses such as willful or deliberate disobedience and lying would always result in a spanking because they were serious problems. Punishment for other offenses could result in spanking if he and our mother thought spanking was needed. Spanking, when necessary, would take place in their bedroom and we would be required to bend over the side of their bed, remain still and accept punishment that he would administer. It was also explained that if we chose to fight our punishment, we would be spanked separately for that disobedience.

I remember tears welling up in my eyes during the meeting and the fear of this change of events as it was being described to us. I don't remember which one of us was the first to be punished after the implementation of the new protocol. I do remember my first time over the edge of their bed and the shock to realize that I was going to be spanked with my dad's belt instead of a hand or switch. (However, the switch did not disappear completely and was still the instrument of choice at times.) In my parent's room, I was questioned about why I was being punished and required to verbalize what I had done so my parents would know I understood before being instructed to take the position face down across their bed. I had to use the bedsteps to get onto the bed as it was too high for my feet to touch the floor. I was wearing a gown which my mother pulled up about my waist, so the spanking was administered to my panty-clad bottom and bare thighs. Dad removed his belt and folded it into a loop, holding the end and buckle in his hand and delivered the first lash to my tightly clenched rearend. I screamed like I was being murdered, tried to cover my butt with my hands, rolled over on my back, and kicked my legs. I was instructed to lie still unless I wanted separate punishment. My mother went to the opposite side of the bed to hold my hands out of the way of the belt. For the remaining lashes, I was across the bed with arms stretched out in front of me while she held them.

The spanking itself was not much more severe than others I had received previously, but for some reason the ritual of being required to submit without fighting and dancing about made the punishment much for memorable.

[My] parent would ask, "You have had a warning. WHAT did I tell you would happen if you did/didn't ________ again?" I would have to answer, "You said you would give me a whipping." -- we did not call it a spanking when I was growing up. I HATED having to SAY IT!! It would bring immediate tears. The next question was usually, "So, what do you need to do?" The answer to that one was filled with even more dread as I would have to state that "I have to go upstairs and bend over the bed so you can whip me." Depending on the time of day and the offense, I might be told to take my bath and put pajamas on first. I always got this knot in my stomach when I had to SAY aloud what was going to happen.

I think I may have required my mother's assistance a few times after the first. However, at some point I remember my dad reminded me as I was instructed to get into position for a spanking that if I needed assistance to hold still and keep my hands out of the way, he would need to send Mother for a switch since I would have to take an additional spanking. There were a few times that I did receive a second spanking for the disobedience of fighting the first one. (Of course no one wanted more than one spanking, but threats of use of the switch too was terrifying. The belt was applied where clothing, even shorts would cover any evidence of a spanking. When the switch was used, there were always stripes lower on the my legs and thighs that could be seen by friends.)


 
I’m no doubt the last generation to have been brought up the old fashioned “Victorian” way. I was born 1954 and my sister 1955 and when she received her last spanking (might have been for unladylike behaviour) in 1968 things were changing rapidly as this was the year of the youth rebellion. However, we lived in a remote, provincial town where things changed slowly. We were beginning to see “horrible American jeans” as my mother called the tightly fitting trousers and bikinis and even miniskirts, while Mother made us stick with decent skirts with a hem below the knees, white ankle socks and demure blouses. Grandfather and Father were well known local businessmen and Father was also a town councillor and on Sunday afternoons our family would sometimes “promenade” – Father and Grandfather would raise their hats every other moment to greet other pedestrians and my sister and I would look “clean and newly ironed” and maybe drop a curtsey and only talk if people addressed us. Whenever we were on our own in town we were expected to behave like little ladies and not bring “shame” on the family as many knew the councillor’s daughters.

My sister and I were brought up to be quiet, polite, pleasing etc. and to sit properly, drop curtseys etc. I had no problem with that while my active sister got more than one bottom warming for unladylike behaviour like climbing trees, jumping from the roof of the bicycle shed, doing hand springs and flip flops etc. etc. – some of which she might have got away with had she been a boy. I can’t know for sure of course, but my husband’s twin sister Kristin was a tomboy and she claims that her father spanked her for boyish tricks that her brother got away with because they were natural behaviour for boys (only). On one occasion when the twins were about 12/13 there was a film on and her brother just went to see it without asking and when their father out about it he decided that this particular film wasn’t suited for girls so Kristin couldn’t see it. Period. This made her mad and she went to see it anyway. The crime was discovered (her brother didn’t tell on her, the twins didn’t do that) and she got her spanking.


 
There were times when I was summoned to my parent's bedroom knowing a spanking was definitely the purpose of going there. Other times, their bedroom was just the private place for the serious discussion of some mishehavior. A discussion with a warning that I would be spanked if I did not get back on track quickly was all that took place. I would leave the room relieved that the spanking I felt certain was coming was not given. Other times, I would think a discussion was all that was on the agenda and feel totally shocked when told that I would need to get into place across the bed. I was usually optimistic that I could successfully avoid a spanking until the announcement was made.

I often started to softly cry or sob silently at the point that it was announced I was to receive a spanking. I begged and pleaded for mercy when told to bend across the bed up until the first strike landed and then usually screamed quite dramatically for my parent to "stop it!", "don't whip me anymore!", "I'll be good", etc. By the time the spanking was underway in earnest these were no words coming from my mouth, just uncontrollable sobs and crying. The spanking never ended until my parents judged my sobs to be remorseful and not defiant.

We were usually left alone for a few moments, still in position across the bed or sitting on it, to finish crying it out before our parents assured us of their love and their sadness over having to punish us. We understood that the "air was cleared" and we could rejoin the rest of the family with no further mention of the offense unless for some reason we were sent to bed afterwards.

I can say for certain that the thin cotton or nylon panties that I wore as a child offered no protection at all when being punished. However, there was a psychological element involved on the occasions that my panties were taken down that increased the feelings of dread.  Most of the time, I was spanked over panties. When they did come down, my mother usually pulled them down to my knees. 


 
When I was small I was usually whipped with a switch of my own picking. Daddy would stand on the back porch and wait. If the switch I picked wasn't suitable I would be sent (sniffling all the way) to get another. To determine if the switch was suitable Daddy would strip the leaves off of it and swish it through the air to see if it was flexible enough. Once he had a good switch he would send me to my room to pull down my panties and bend over the bed. He would come in and whip me across my bare bottom and down my thighs. Those switches really stung on a bare bottom.

I used the "I have to pee" excuse. I was foolish enough to think I could postpone the inevitable forever. I would usually wait until I was most desperate and looking for a way out of the whipping (over the bed with my panties down) to pull the pee excuse. I would be allowed to go pee and then would have to come back to the bedroom, lower my panties and bend over the bed again. The "pee break" gave me more time to plead my case and beg for mercy as I pulled down my panties and got into position a second time, "I'm sorry", "I won't do it again", "I promise I'll be good", "I forgot" "Daddy, please don't" "It's not my fault". Of course none of my pleas ever helped my avoid the punishment.


 
I can remember many times when I was young, before 10, when my mom especially would ask me, "what did I tell you I was going to give you if you did that again" and I'd have to answer, "a spanking."  Luckily, sometimes it was just a precursor to, "then knock it off unless you want one." I also hated when one of my older brothers would say, "what happens when you do that?" I would try to shrug, but they kept at it and I'd end up saying, "I get a spanking." Again, it was usually a warning, but if one of them said, "what would mom or dad do for something like this", and I said "they'd spank me", it was ALWAYS followed by, "well then I guess I'm going to have to. Get upstairs and wait for me, I have to finish...". Then I got it. I too would start crying if I was asked the latter question - and the tears started before they were finished asking it. I would usually cry from those warning questions also, because I agree that saying "I get spanked", or "you'll give me a spanking" is a horrible thing to have to admit out loud when you are young.

 
As a little kid, when I was told, "do it again and you're getting a spanking" or when I was doing something I knew I would get spanked for, without a warning (those dangerous things, or things that were completely out of bounds), there was a moment (sometimes that moment was 5 minutes, sometimes 5 hours) when I stopped doing what I was warned about, and then I'd forget about it and do it again. To be honest, the spanking threat very often escaped my mind as I went on with my day, so I was usually spanked reguardless of the warning. I crossed the line frequently so to speak. Of course I'd curse myself all the way upstairs to my bedroom as I waited for the spanking. But my memory always failed me when it came down to those threats. On the contrary my brother Peter got only 2 spankings his entire life because he had a fabulous memory:)

It really frightens me when I hear these stories of the "rod" and how parents are "training" their kids to fear "it". Come on, when you are 6 there is no distinguishing the implement and mommy. When I got spanked, which was often but not all the time, it was never "severe", but without a doubt I felt them, disliked them, and learned from them. My parents were strict by todays standards, but NEVER punished severely. I never fell limp or was crushed inside. I truly believe kids need discipline and I know I will be strict with my kids (though I won't spank), but strictness is not equal to harshness. To me, being strict means keeping a tight ship of chores, moral standards, personal standards, and general kindness and compassion. How you enforce these standards will determine forever, your relationship with your kids. When I was younger, I did resent my mom for the spankings she gave me on my bare bottom, more than anything because I knew the ones on my panties hurt just as badly and felt that the baring was completely not needed. She has since changed her beliefs on spanking completely and she and dad are anti-cp.


 
My mother spanked me with the hairbrush until I was limp, mute, and covered with sweat and snot. My father spanked me with his belt and it was not as severe. He waited between each lash for me to become still and ready for the next. It was very painful, but because he would pause I did not become hysterical or go limp, although I certainly screamed at each whack.

I think the spankings from my mom were too harsh and I wish my dad hadn't spanked me with panties down, even though his did not hurt as bad. He meant nothing by it and he wasn't aware, but it was confusing to me to be bare bottomed over his knee, or standing bent over, with him inflicting pain on me but also being comforting to me, both during and after the spanking.


 
As very young children if all three of us girls or two of us were getting a spanking, my mother would just grab the closest one to her first. As soon as she finished with the first, she would call the next one to come to her and there had better not be any hesitation in coming to her. When spankings became more formal events and Daddy did the honors as we were positioned face down across the bed in the master bedroom, he would most always begin with the youngest. Sometimes we would all be in the room together and other times, we would wait in the hall for our turn.

When our mother spanked us with her switch, usually we were standing with her holding our hands up out of her way and she would aim for the backs of bare legs as we danced about in a circle around her.

The absolute worst was when the switch managed to strike that tender flesh on the inside of the upper thigh. This happened on occasion when our mother switched me as I was dancing about trying to avoid it. Sometimes the belt would wrap around and strike there too, but not often as we were usually lying across the bed for a whipping with the belt.

The shock of the pain from the tip of the switch landing on the inside of the thigh prompted me to accidently strike my mother on one occasion when I tried to grab the switch to escape another lash. (I think I knocked her glasses off or something similar.) This led to a very memorable spanking later with me standing in the arched doorway between the kitchen and den, holding onto the door frame after my mother called my father to come home.

That event coincided with the "family meeting" where it was announced that spankings were going to become more formal "events" in our household. At this time, Dad took over the job of actually administering the corporal punishment.


 
More often than not when there was trouble me and my sister both got a spanking. It didn't really matter who was the initiator. Usually it was for arguing or fighting between ourselves. We were both generally given a warning that if we didn't stop we'd be given a good hiding. That didn't always work, so after further conflict we were ordered to our bedrooms. A few minutes later we'd hear Dad coming up the stairs. For some reason he usually went into my (younger) sister's room first. I heard a brief conversation, then counted the number of spanks, knowing that I was going to get either equal or more. I could also hear my sister crying. I'd then hear the door go and and he would then come into my room sit on the end of the bed, give me the same talking to, pull me over his knee and start my spanking. I remember the awful feeling of being held firmly,dangling with my head down and my bottom in the air, while my Dad's spanks continued - from what I remember usually something between 15 - 20 spanks. I was always crying by the end. We then both had to stay in our rooms for a certain length of time before being allowed back downstairs. If it was in the evening, we'd have been told to go to our rooms and get ready for bed before our Dad came up to give us the spanking and we'd then have to go straight to bed after we'd been spanked.

My sister and I both have children, and both spank, but our parents think it is parental duty to spank, and my dad has told us, "we did the hard part with you, now we get to enjoy our grand kids, you get to do the hard job." But they do not disagree with spanking now, they just enjoy they don't have to.


 
I saw recent mention that the hairbrush was feminine, probably since moms tend to use it on daughters.

My sister and I were spanked mostly by our father with the paddle. There were a few times he threatened to spank me with "the belt," but never did.

My mom rarely spanked, and she almost always spanked with her hand, which at least in my case didn't hurt much. However, there was one memorable exception (probably the worst spanking of my life) when mom spanked me with the hairbrush. All I can say was that spanking had an UNBELIEVEABLE sting. She also spanked my sister several times with the hairbrush. In all cases this was when we were pre-teens (10-12) and were among our last spankings.


 
When I was 12, I was playing with my sister (13) Mom-daughter, she was spanking me bare bottom with her hand and we were caught. Dad said if we liked spanking we were going to play with him and he used belt on both.

 
I don't know why girls and boys received different treatment but I was real happy to be a girl. It wasn't uncommon, in my little world, for boys to be punished more harshly than girls were punished. This even happened in my own home. My brothers were more likely to get the strap and us girls a hand to our naughty bums. My mum swung her duster harder with my brothers as well. Maybe they thought we girls were weaker and required less punishment to turn around our behaviour? Being a girl was a definite advantage when you were naughty.

 
We were on vacation . My mom looked out the window of her friend's house where we were staying and spotted me about thirty feet up at the top of a tree , swaying in the breeze like a demented monkey. Scared her half to death I suppose! She screamed for me to get down and when I reached the ground she was waiting for me with a fairly thick stick. She bent me over a rail fence and gave me a few licks, then she yanked down my pants and gave me a good lickin'! There was no one else around so embarrassment wasn't an issue. When the stick finally broke (I guess it was a bit rotten) she pulled my pants back up and marched me into the house. She grabbed her friend's spanking strap which hung behind the door and bent me over the kitchen table. She gave me a strapping and a long lecture on safety and how much worse my next punishment would be if she caught me up a tree again without permission. I hollered and begged for mercy but she didn't take down my pants so it wasn't nearly as bad as I pretended. I wouldn't call it painless but compared to the stick it wasn't too bad! She made me promise to ask if I wanted to do fun stuff in the future and over the years I was surprised at how much she let me do. I think if I had asked instead of just climbing she might have allowed it. But if I asked she might say no! If I just climbed I thought I could get away with it! Oops ! Wrong!!

 
When I was growing up, the worst punishment was getting a bare skin whipping from my mother with a little green switch.  Fortunately for me this didn't happen very often.  Mother reserved it for when she judged that you had been extra naughty.

I was miserably afraid of a switching.  Of course, that is how you were supposed to feel about it.  But I think these punishments were excessive and I never punished my daughter that way.

My father's lickings with his belt hurt frightfully.  But even though his arm was stronger, his lickings still didn't hurt as much as my mother's switchings.  If my father had given me my lickings on my bare skin, maybe his belt might have hurt me as much as a switch.  If I had been a boy he probably would have.


 
I do remember blushing from ear to ear at my first “date”. I was about 14/15 and very immature and didn’t have a regular boyfriend like “everyone else” and took “the first that came along” to just have one. He was a little younger than me and looked VERY young. My charming sister Edith who had boys buzzing around her like bees around a jar of honey though she was one year younger definitely didn’t think he was one for me. He was invited to my home for afternoon tea together with my father and mother and my sister and the poor boy was very shy and very quiet and so was I. The whole scenario was very embarrassing when my “horrible” sister suddenly said out of thin air, “Mike do you still get spanked? Anna got it with the shoehorn and she was such a wimp”. DEADLY SILENCE! Poor Mike turned beet red and so did I. My parents didn’t know where to look and could hardly hide their smiles when my father cleared the air by saying, “Well Edith I don’t remember you taking it particularly bravely either”. Mike soon excused himself and we stopped “dating”. I was mad at my sister though I did see that she was right.

 
Mum always told me to think about what I'd done that had made the spanking necessary. Nice thought, Mum, but not easy to put much logical thought together as a hand or hairbrush descends again and again upon your bare bottom. At that moment all I could register was just how much it hurt.

Yes, of course I put my hand back - desperate to get even a few seconds relief for my suffering bottom. Mum never spanked my hand, nor did she add extra smacks as a result. She would simply pause the spanking, tell me in a most authoritative way to take the hand away, and then, once my bottom was again bare, she'd carry on spanking.


 
As a younger girl I would get a warning of what was about to happen but when I got older I no longer got any warning.
I knew what was expected and I knew better than to argue or "sass" my parents. Sometimes I would get a "Tiffany" in a certain tone of voice but most of the time I would get nothing till it was to late.
The moment when I knew I had crossed the line was when I heard "Tiffany go to your room and get ready" There was no going back then, it was to late, at that point all I could do was go and get ready and sit and wait for mom or dad to some up and spank me.

 
I was about 4 years old, maybe 5 and had been spanked by my mom. I don't know the offense, but i was taken to my room, had to pull down my pants (myself) and bent over her lap for an OTK hand spanking. After it was over and she was leaving the room, I stuck out my tongue at her! She said I would be sorry that I did that and left the room. I remember watching her from the top of the stairs rummaging through the drawer in the kitchen. I was soon bent back over her lap receiving my first wooden spoon paddling. I received about 8 or 10 swats, but that was enough to make me cry. I started receiving my spankings with a wooden spoon from then on....

A couple of years later, I was in trouble again (don't remember why) and my mom paddled me standing up, on the back porch. I still remember the shorts I was wearing - black "Jams". They were quite thin unfortunately. I was particularly defiant that day and kept telling her that it didn't hurt after each swat. After 10 or so swats, the spoon broke! She told me not to move and came back with one of her leather belts. After a very severe (for me) whipping, my will was broken and I was in tears begging her to stop. I still remember laying in my room after that with a a very sore bottom - meanwhile I could hear my friends outside enjoying the summer day.


 
When I was a kid, my Dad was hardly ever around. He was a truck driver, and it seemed like the only time he was around was late at night after I was already asleep or on holidays. I remember once when Dad was home and we were in the living room. Mom was in the kitchen doing the dishes. My Sis and I had been playing with some Barbie's and we had Barbie clothes, Barbie's camper, and all kinds of accessories strewn all around the living room. Mom yelled for me to start cleaning up the toys. I ignored her instruction and went on frolicking with Dad. A little while later I heard Mom yell again to me to clean up the toys. Once again, I ignored her. A little later when she came into the living room, she threw me a very stern look as she glanced around the living room. I was laying on the couch with my Dad. She walked over and grabbed me by the arm and said "C'mon Mia lets go to your room, so I can teach you how to do what you're told!" My Dad said "Awwww, Laura, leave the kid alone. I hardly get to spend any time with the girls." My mother completely hissed at him. She said that she would not put up with him undermining her authority. She then proceded to walk me up to my room where she bared my bottom and spanked me. After, as I lay there crying I thought about how sweet Daddy is to try to protect me, but I also realized that I did deserve the spanking, and in a little while Mom would come up to talk with me and hug me. I could hear Mom and Dad having words about me downstairs. Now that I look back, I guess it seems kind of juvenile of my father to not back up my mother. It seems like he should have told me to get up off the couch and pick up the toys before it escalated into a spanking. I think that he just loved my Sis and I so much, that he figured he did not want to spend the little time he had with us being a disciplinarian.

 
Out of admiration and sympathy and curiosity we would all listen if someone in the neighborhood was starting to get spanked. Usually the person would hold off crying for a spank or two and there would be this hushed silence as we waited. Once the person getting it "gave" and started crying, we would be ashamed or embarrassed or something, and kind of walk away or do something else. A few of my friends made it to three but no one ever held out to the end. So, the sound was different at first but once the spanks were punctuated with ever more intense crying, it was always very similar.  We called that period from 1 to 4 whacks, "holding out" and everyone tried to hold out but none of us ever made it. Usually by 3, we were singing that familiar spanking song, usually to the tune of I'll Be Good, I promise! I remember one kid making it to 7. He was the talk of the neighborhood but number 8 reduced him to mere mortal status as he too suddenly howled how good he would be. The end was always one long single syllable Ouch! Still he got a lot of credit for getting to seven.

 
When I grew up in the late 50's and 60's my parents had no air conditioning so the windows were wide open in the summer time.

I remember hearing spankings going on in the neighborhood, most specifically the neighbors children in the house behind us. 

Our den was in the back of our house. Their kitchen was at the back of their house. Both houses were separated by chain link fencing with both homes at 20 feet apart. Close enough footage to hear a spanking with open windows.

It was the 8 year old girl 'getting it' and by the sound of things....it was by her dad as I could hear his voice scolding her about something and then the 'smacks' came and then the crying. The crying went on for less than a minute. I have no idea if it was over the knee, bent over...an implement or if by hand.

It did sound like over the knee but I was not an expert at 10 years old.

She had an older sister that I could have asked, but in those days you just avoided asking things like that.


 
My family’s five storey building had two large flats on each storey making a total of ten flats with maybe 20 children. Our back yard was encircled by three four storey buildings with four one bedroom flats (with a lot of children) on each storey, so there must have been a total of 50-60 flats with way over a hundred children in the “spankable age” encircling the yard. This was the mid sixties with no air conditioning and open windows during summer. Sounds travelled and there was hardly a week when I didn’t hear someone getting it good – or they heard me :-(.

My father used the long wooden shoehorn that sat in the umbrella stand on my sister and me; my best friends in one of the small flats got it with the spanking stick that hung on a nail in the kitchen or the razor strop that hung next to the kitchen sink that served as bathroom. Others got it with the cane. There was an old willow tree in the middle of the yard and it wasn’t at all unusual to see a parent cut a suitable switch. My own and my sister’s spankings inevitably went like this: whack, whack, whack, WAAAHHH and as we lived on the first floor folks gathering beneath the windows would hear it loudly and clearly.


 
Once Sis and I slept over with our two cousins Lisa and Peter. We were all about 12/13 and like always the guests slept on camp beds on the floor in the room Lisa and Peter shared. We would talk and talk till some parent came along and shouted, “If I hear one more word more from this room then….” We all know what that meant.

Nevertheless Peter kept fooling around on the floor playing ghost or something as boys will do to, while we tried to be good girls and sleep. At one time Lisa had enough of it and got out of bed to push him away whispering: “Stop it you fool, you get us all in trouble”. The very second she did so the light was turned on and Uncle George stood in the door way barking, “You two stay where you are, I’ll be right back”. Lisa didn’t obey but jumped back into bed and hid under her blanket. Uncle George was rather hot-headed and seconds later he reappeared with his spanking stick. He approached Lisa’s bed and barked, “Get up, I told you to stay foot”. But Lisa stayed in bed desperately shouting, “NOO, I didn’t do anything, I tried to get Peter to stop”. But Uncle grabbed the struggling and screaming girl who held on to her blanket and turned “the menagerie” over his knee and gave her an awfully hard spanking. When he was finished he literally dumped the howling mess back into bed. Then he turned to Peter barking, “Get your pyjamas trousers down” and the poor boy already half crying stammered, “Please, don’t spank me in here”. Evidently his father got second thoughts about spanking him in front of his female cousins and hauled him out into the hall pulling the door to. So at least he got his spanking out of sight, though certainly not out of earshot.


 
A note or phone call for getting in trouble at school was the absolute worst! In our kitchen closet my parents had a personal paddle with our name on it for each one of us. If the school called home to tell my parents I had gotten in trouble the paddle with my name would be sitting on the kitchen table when I got home. Thank God that only happened a couple of times. But I also brought a note home to be signed a few times growing up. There was no way to get out of a spanking. My mom usually didn't even bother to wait for my dad to get home. I almost always got the paddle on the seat of my panties.

 
My bottom got pretty red when I got spanked. I had a dresser with a big mirror mounted on it and usually after a spanking I'd be in my room and still crying I'd close the door and pull my pants back down to see the damage. When I was eight my mom had spanked my bare bottom with a hairbrush for the first time (for not doing my homework before going out to play, and lying about it). After the spanking I went back to my bedroom and tried to sit and do my homework. My bottom was stinging pretty bad so I got up and pulled my pants back down to "survey the damage". I noticed it was a much darker shade of red than it was when she spanked by hand. While I was standing there checking it out, Mom came into my bedroom and caught me. She said, "I guess since your standing there looking at your butt instead of doing your homework, your butt must not be red enough!" Then she grabbed me by the arm turned me around and smacked my already sore butt another dozen or so times and fussing at me while she did it.

I believe the spanking(s) I got in that case were as much for lying as they were for not getting my homework done. I was on my way out to play and Mom asked me if I had any homework, I told her no and went out. Well I came back in before dinnertime and tried to get it done. It was the night Star Trek (my favorite show) was on and I wanted to make sure it was done before it came on. Mom came into my room to ask me something and caught me sitting at my desk doing my homework. After confronting me about it, she made me go into the livingroom. She went into my bathroom and grabbed my hairbrush which was one of those big flat short handled grooming brushes. She made me stand up then she sat on the couch, told me to pull my pants down and bend over her knee. I pulled my jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh then she bent me over and I found out that a hairbrush works really well on the "other end" as well. So yes after that spanking then the extra smacks she gave my already sore behind when she saw me surveying the damage (so to speak), I can honestly say I made sure I did my homework before I went out to play from that day on


 
When I was ten, I got a spanking from my mom for punching my brother Ryan on his chin. He didn't get hurt, but he was a cry baby and tattled on me. He's about 4 1/2 yrs older, but was a lot more babyish than I was. My mom spanked me in my room of course, behind closed doors and several rooms away from where Ryan was. But she demanded I come downstairs and tell him I was sorry-which I wasn't yet. My mom trusted me to do it, so she went outside to do the gardening she was doing when Ryan stopped her. I was still crying at this point but knew I had to do as she said, then I could go to my room and have my pity party. When I saw him, he started laughing right away and I quickly said sorry. Our older brother was also home and told him to stop laughing at me...but Ryan made some comment about my mom not even using anything but her hand and to stop sobbing for sympathy-but the spanking hurt like hell even though my mom used her hand only, and what I wanted to do was punch him again and shout, "I only punched you with my hand, quit crying for sympathy"...but I would have gotten a much worse spanking if that had occurred.

 
My mom only bared our bottoms when we were quite young, and almost every time only used her hand for the spanking then. My dad never spanked us on anything but our pants or pj bottoms. I know my mom received all of her spankings on her bare bottom. She was born and raised in England and was either caned, slippered or sometimes spanked with a hand, and was told from a very young age to lower her "knickers" to her knees. She hated that and chose to uncover our bottoms once we were over her lap and only enough to spank on. She has told us that when she was growing up, that is how British parents punished their children...and she thought some of it was harsh, so stuck to much milder spankings than she got as a child. She also stopped spanking us earlier than in her family. Being 19 and getting caned on her bared bottom was not unheard of. I think mine stopped around 15 or so.

 
My parents used the bare-bottom spanking for more serious misbehavior. The chill that would run down my spine when the threat of a bare-bottom spanking was announced was intense. I remember getting in trouble for trespassing on a neighbors property with my three older sisters. We had all been told not to go over there but the trampoline was way too inviting. I was last in line for an over-the-knee, bare bottom spanking. It was awful. I remember reaching back to protect, to no avail, and wondering how long it could go on.

 
My friend had been promised a spanking after school for something that had taken place that morning before we left to walk to school. On the way home she and I decided that if we stuck together, she might avoid the spanking long enough for her mother to forget about it. Jeanne stopped at my house on the way home for us to get my mother's approval for her to go with us that afternoon for an event on the campus of the college where my dad taught. Then I went home with her to secure her mother's permission.

Jeanne was just sure that her mother would not spank her with me there and she would let her go with my family. Much to our horror, Jeanne's mother was happy for her to go with me and my family, but she would have to be spanked first. No amount of protests or pleas for mercy could change Mrs. Morgan's mind. She asked me just to wait in the den while she and Jeanne went upstairs.

Mrs. Morgan followed an embarrassed, already tearful Jeanne to her room upstairs to bare her bottom and dutifully administer the promised spanking with one of her brother's belts. After the spanking and some time for composure, a red-eyed Jeanne returned to the den and we were off for our planned activities.


 
There was never any doubt about it in our house. When Mum spanked me or my sister, we cried! we'd be sobbing even as she marched us upstairs to the spanking room. I can well recall more than once sitting on the side of the bed with Mum for her customary pre spanking chat, finding myself in tears not just because I knew my bottom was going to be made to hurt, but because I felt so ashamed of what I'd done. Once the spanking began, I'd try all I could to retain some composure and self control, but I defy any girl not to cry as her bare bottom gets spanked with a wooden backed hairbrush. I can assure you that any spanking in our house ended with one very, very tearful young lady.

 
My Mother's rule was if I got paddled at school she paddled me again at home.  My school system did not have any policy of informing the parents when a child was paddled at school. But Mom nearly every day asked me how my day was and if I was good. Other kids could tell their mothers about me getting paddled which happened once when I attempted to lie to my mom and not tell her when she asked if I had been good.I learned early that she went mostly on my reaction and tone of voice when I was answering her. So I made a decision not to tell in 5th grade after getting my bottom paddled soundly in the lunch room. For what was considered back talk any way. My moms good friend's daughter was there and told her mom who a couple days later asked my mom about my "paddling" I got a sound one again. And it was unfair I always thought. In 6th grade I got paddled real hard at the end of the day for making a mess in the sink during science class. The teacher a big man smacked me very hard with a big paddle several times. I was crying hard, and on the bus ride home since the paddling took place at the very end of the last period. I had a throbbing bottom and red teary eyeys and little time to gather myself so Mom would not suspect but I could not. She asked how my day was and I said not so good and she asked why and I confessed in tears and pleaded that my bottom was still hurting ( not so much) but she repeated her rule got her big paddle and lit my backside up. The hard wood smacking a tender bottom hurts so bad.

 
as i got older, my parents had a pretty well defined set of rules and "expectations", with a very clearly defined set of consequences. i very rarely got spanked for anything that surprised me. also i recall being told point blank "one more word out of you and i'm going to take you to your bedroom and punish you for your mouth" and things like that quite often. i had a pretty stubborn streak, and getting warnings like that made me mad because they always made me feel like such a little kid. once things had boiled up to that point, it wasn't so much a question of if i'd crossed the line, but when i was going to. either way, like i say, it wasn't that much of a surprise.

but the part that i find interesting is thinking back to when i was younger (probably before 8 or so) - i guess i hadn't yet figured out how hard i could push or whatever, because i remember the shock of realizing i was all of the sudden about thirty seconds away from having my underwear around my ankles while my butt's getting spanked - for me it was always feeling a hand lock around one of my small wrists. that always meant i was about to be dragged along, with that wrist up over my head, to the nearest convenient location for a "discussion" about my behavior.

i'd never really even thought about that until now, and as i do i can almost feel my stomach fall through the floor, like it used to.


 
Growing up back in the mid-late 1970's, lots of kids still were spanked, and parents as well as the kids were pretty open about it. Sometimes the kids in our neighborhood talked about what 'tool' their parents used, and there were many times we overheard each other being told we were going to be spanked just before being led inside. I was the recipient of one such spanking, and was teased for a while afterwards. However, I only heard one spanking happen, when I was about 12-13 (I was just over the age where I got my last spanking).

It happened to a neighbor girl who lived across the street and was known to have parents who were quite strict. She was a year younger than me, very cute, and most of the boys in the neighborhood had a crush on her. One day I was outside with another boy (who happened to live next door), and we heard our our cute neighbor being scolded by her father. Somewhere towards the end he said "...get inside young lady, YOU are getting a spanking!"

The other kid and I couldn't believe we heard that, so we snuck behind the hedge to get as close to her bedroom as possible. About five minutes later we could hear some more scolding and some pleading on her part, though it was muffled by a closed bedroom window. We giggled as we heard the first loud "SPLAT" sounds which I presume were from a paddle hairbrush, or similar tool. However, by about the fifth or sixth one, she went from wimpering to screaming uncontrollably. I know at least one of us voyeurs quickly started feeling sorry for her. I think her spanking included between 15-20 swats, and one heck of a lot of screaming, howling, and begging for her father to stop. She may very well have deserved every bit of it, but by the end I felt a little ashamed about hearing it happen.


 
A short story clipped from a magazine that was printed in 1896 entitled 'Spanking A Soldier'.
 

A Confederate captain recently told Mr. J.A. Watrous, a writer of "war stories" about two small boys who, during the Civil War, found their way into the Louisiana regiment to which the captain belonged. Both were from 10 to 12 years old, and both had run away from home, and were serving as drummers.
At the battle of Shiloh, one of these little fellows threw away his drum early in the engagement, picked up the musket of a wounded soldier, and fought like a young hero as long as the battle raged.
Not long after the battle, while the boy-soldier's laurels were still fresh upon him, his mother learned where he was and came after him. The regiment was drilling at the time, and the boy was with it. The mother rushed upon the drill-ground and seized her boy.
"Run away from home, will you?" she screamed, "Why, you are nothing more than a baby. You come right home with your mother."
As the boy showed some unwillingness, she took him across her knee, and, in the presence of the whole regiment, gave him a sound spanking. Then she led him away, the boy crying and boo-hooing at the top of his voice.
She had to wait some little time for a chance to get away, and meantime one of the soldiers saw the boy, who was still crying, and asked if he was crying because his mother hurt him.
"No!" he shouted. "Do you suppose a soldier like me would cry because he was hurt? Didn't I fight just as well as the best of them at the great battle?"
"Yes, Johnny, but what are you crying about?"
"I'm crying because my mother spanked me right before the whole regiment!"
In spite of his protests, the boy had to go home with his mother, as was proper.

                                                        ----------------------------------------------

I can scarcely imagine how frantic I would be if a child of mine ran away from home and then placed himself in terrible danger in the midst of a battlefield, firing a gun at soldiers.

But I can easily imagine what I would do once I caught him and finished crying and hugging him and thanking the Lord for his safe return. I would put that child over my knee, pull down his pants, and spank his bare little bottom so soundly that he would never think about doing such a crazy thing again!

But first I would march him far enough in the direction of home to be out of sight of the regiment. Getting spanked in front of the entire regiment is the sort of thing which can make a child resent a parent forever. The mother in this story wasn't at all sensitive to her son's feelings. Perhaps that had something to do with why he ran away in the first place?


 
When I was very little, I assumed all children's mommies spanked them on their bare bottoms.

But when I was a little older I knew this wasn't so. Partly this was because I saw other children spanked over clothing and also because of television and comics.

Even before I could read well enough to understand what was being said, I always used to look at Little Iodine in the Sunday funnies, because she got spanked so often in the last panel.

When I was six or seven, I had seen Iodine get spanked in a lot of comic strips but it was always on her panties, never bare. So one Sunday morning right before we were about to leave for church I showed my mother one of those panels and asked her why Iodine's parents didn't spank Iodine the way she spanked my sister and me. She was amused by my question; I think she thought it was cute of me to ask it. So she gave me a cute answer. She said that Iodine's parents really did give her her spankings on her bare bottom but that they couldn't show a bare bottom in the comics.

My younger sister chimed in to ask why did Iodine's parents spank her on her bare bottom? My mother led her over to a chair in our living room which had a corduroy slip cover. She told my sister to imagine she had never touched corduroy before and wanted to know what it felt like, and to close her eyes and touch. Since we were dressed for church, my sister had her white gloves on. Then my mother took my sister's glove off and told her again to touch the corduroy. Then she asked my sister which way she was better able to tell what corduroy felt like, with the glove on or without? And of course my sister chirped, "without!"

Glancing in my direction to check that I was also listening, our mother then explained that like the corduroy, a spanking was also something we were supposed to feel. But having clothing covering our bottoms while we were being spanked was like having a glove on. We could better tell what a spanking felt like without clothing than with.


 
When I was quite little, my father used to say he was going to "wail" me... My little girl brain was completely convinced he meant he was going to take me to Seaworld and feed me to Shamu.

 
I was almost always spanked by my dad's hand. When I would be sometimes testing the limits, he would get my attention like this:

"Jennifer," he would announce in a deep booming voice. I would look at him and he would raise his right hand. Turning his head, he would spit into his palm and look back at me.

I knew that I was very close to getting spanked, so I would quickly improve my behavior.

But like most kids, my attention span was pretty short. Plus, when you are having fun it's hard to think of the consequences.

This public display of Dad's "spanking implement" usually led to a spanking within a short time after he showed it to me.


 
Daddy did sometimes pull my panties down. It was his way of letting me know that what I had done was extra naughty. It was fairly rare and most were on the seat of my panties. I have asked him about it and he just didn't think it was necesary to bare a child's bottom to make a point. He did think to pull up my skirt or pull down my pants so I would know I was really being punished- like there was ever any doubt. But, felt panties provided little enough protection that they didn't have to be removed except to make a point.

It wasn't modesty in my case as Daddy gave me baths and helped me get dressed and all. My parents divorced when I was 5 and I lived with Daddy mostly, then my mother died when I was 7, so he basically had to.

He was much more selective about what he spanked for as well. Before the divorce, I can only think of maybe 3 spankings I got from Daddy. I got most from my Mommy. Part of this could be attributed to my having learned early on what was not acceptable and I would have gotten fewer as I got older anyway, and Daddy wasn't home much when I was little. Even still, my mother was strict about very different things than Daddy was. Daddy worried about what I wore, who I was with, where I was, what I was doing. My mother was big on respect, doing things I was told without a fuss, not backtalking.

I was almost always spanked over the knee. My mother would put me across her lap, bare my bottom then scold me first with her hand resting on my behind. She didn't scold long but every second felt like an hour.

Daddy scolded first with my standing in front of him. I'd try my best to avoid looking him in the eye and he'd do his best to do so. Then he'd pull me over his lap, lift my skirt or tug down my pants, and spank.

Afterward, both would fix my clothes, then hug or hold me until I stopped crying. 

Before the age of 5-7, almost all of my spankings were from my mother. I got maybe 3 spankings from my Daddy before that. He wasn't home a lot because of his job, nad my mother was, so she handled most of my discipline.

I wasn't spanked in any one room. Wherever the nearest chair was to where I misbehaved is where my mother would put me across her lap, bare my bottom and spank me. I probably got half the number of spanks you did though, and even fewer when I was a toddler. After the spanking, I was always comforted and then the matter was over and forgotten.

The one time my mother tried to send me to the corner after a spanking (she did hug me first), Daddy had a huge fit. I know he thought she was too strict with me sometimes, but as long as the punishment was for a legitmate reason, didn't interfere. That time he did. Of course this was shortly before they divorced so it probably wasn't just the corner sending that they were arguing over.


 
My mother was the disciplinarian in our family, and believed that the only effective cure for misbehavior was a long hard bare behind spanking. They were almost always given in our rooms in the evening after our baths. We always knew we were getting spanked several hours before hand, and sometimes the dreaded event was postponed until the weekend if more than one of us were getting it. Until we reached 11, spankings were over her lap with her sitting on a straight backed chair or on the bed with our behinds located over her lap and our legs and upper body spread out over the bed. The spanking began on the upper cheeks, with her hand, belt or strap alternating from left to right, and covered the entire rear down to the backs of the knees. She spanked long enough to leave us apple red, so several round trips were required. Spankings were always humiliating in that anyone in the house could hear them, and sometimes siblings watched while they were waiting their turn. At other times, a maid or other adult was in the room while a spanking was in progress.

 
It's hard to say, but I think I was pretty young when I started finding spankings interesting. I was spanked by both of my parents growing up, and I HATED IT! I was a hard headed little girl who seemed to frequently find myself across my dad's or mom's knees. I was expected to tow the line, and my parents didn't tolerate youthful rebellion. There were times when I would get so frustrated that when I was playing, I would give my dollies spankings.

I had old fashioned, conservative parents who thought it was okay to spank kids until they turned 18. I do think spankings made an impression on me because after my turbulent middle school experiences, I was a well-behaved teenager. I matured and I was a good kid. My shyness might have also helped with my behavior. I knew my older brother and sister were spanked until they were 16 and 17. It scared me from wanting to act out because I knew my parents wouldn't hesitate to whip me if I needed it. I found spankings interesting at the same time.

My sister and I are only a year apart in age, yet our whole high school existence was completely opposite. She was the cute, blond cheerleader. The boys flocked to her. I was the shy brunette, honor student. In high school her room was next door to mine. I heard some of my sister's spankings. The first thought that came to my head was, "I'm glad it's not me." Then I would feel bad for her, even if I knew she probably deserved the punishment. I wasn't that adventuresome in high school so I played this game in my mind. I would imagine things like: sneaking out of the house, coming home drunk, sneaking off with the car, having my dad walk in on a party (during his night patrol), etc. After thinking about the scenerios, I would imagine my parents' reactions. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I'd get a whipping. That was living life dangerously for me during high school. I waited until I was in college, away from dad and mom, to let my hair down.


 
I remember playing "red-light, green light" with my brothers and a neighbor girl who was much older than us. She sent her brother to stand in the "corner," which was up against the house, for misbehaviour.

I tried my best to disobey to be sent to the corner, too, but she addored me too much to do that to me. I guess, deep down I wanted her to punish me.

One time, I was in my neighbor's basement playing house with her and her brother (her brother was close to my age). I remember being the daughter and they were the parents. When it was "play" dinner time, I sat at the table. She quickly snapped her finger at me and asked if I washed my hands. I shook my head "no," so she snapped her fingers and pointed to the other room in the basement.

"Let's go," she commanded as we got up and she quickly ushered me away from the pretend table of food. She quickly sat down in a folding chair and yanked my pants and panties down. Pulling me across her lap, she scolded "You will wash your hands before we eat, do you understand, YOUNG LADY?"

"Yes," I replied. I was alread across her lap as her hand started to spank my bare butt. She must have given me 10 spanks with her hand. It shocked me, but didn't hurt like a REAL spanking did.

From that day on, I think I KNEW I was interest in being spanked. There is just something about the fear and butterflies in your stomach when you know you are going to be spanked. That kind of energy and excitement/fear cannot be duplicated anywhere else.

Since then, I have always been tuned into the converstations/episodes leading up to a spanking. I just love it but fear it at the same time, and I can't explain why.


 
I tried bragging once when some girls were visiting with their mother at my house. They had asked me about me getting in trouble at choir practice and what My mom did. I said she spanked me but I did not cry (trying to impress).  I was, I think, 10. I don't know if they believed me when I said this. But later while they were there I got in trouble for climbing a tree that I was forbidden to climb and my mom called me in the house and took me over her lap and spanked me with her paddle soundly causing me to cry and bawl in quick fashion. Those girls heard no doubt and after mom stopped I was sent back outside to play. One girl said to me I thought you didn't cry from a spanking? I was exposed.

 
When I was maybe 11 years old I was hauled across my cousins knee for mis-naming corrugated iron, yes that ubiquitous material used the world over for temporary structures and mistaken in Australia for a roofing material.
A bunch of us were discussing building a den or tree house and I happened to mention that a lot of this material was available nearby but I referred to it, as it was commonly known to most people, as wriggly tin. I don't know what she thought I was talking about, but she considered it to be some sort of innuendo that shouldn't be coming from the lips of someone of such tender years

 
First I was getting thoroughly scolded by daddy, who took a kitchen chair away from the table and put the jokari paddle on the table. That was maybe the worst part, bringing me to tears long before the actual spanking started., and lifted me on a kitchen chair to pull down my shorts and underpants in my ankles. Then he put his left foot on the chair and upended me over his raised knee. Then he took me firmly by the waist in the small of my back, both to keep me down and to prevent me from falling off, together with my right hand so that that hand couldn’t hinder the proceedings. Than he took the paddle from the table behind him. Daddy was a big man with a tender heart, but also a very religious man who believed that in case of necessity the rod ought not to be saved. He didn’t hit hard, but the hard wood slapping into your bare skin, always on the same spot made you understand fully the proverbial “burning seat”.
While I was not prudish, it was very humiliating, to hang down with my full weight over his knee off the ground as a rag dol, with my bare buttocks turned up well ready to spank all the naughtiness out of them. I was sobbing from the scolding, but I was soon howling like a spanked baby, wriggling to get away from that punishing paddle, lifting my legs, clenching my buttocks to try to deminish that awful sting and trying to get my feet in the way, till my dad gave me a few hard smacks on my thighs that made me yelp.

 
At secondary school we had merits and demerits which were awarded for minor achievements and failings.Being the first to arrive in the classroom might get you a merit and being last might get you a demerit, good and bad schoolwork was similarly rewarded.
Anyone whose merits and demerits cancelled each other or were within 5 marks of each other had their chart wiped clean those with an aggregate of more than 5 merits were rewarded (I think with going home early) and those with more than 5 demerits were rewarded with a spanking.
It was a very mild spanking given with a 12inch wooden ruler, one swat for each demerit these "mock" punishments were given and taken in good humour but towards the end of each month those with large amounts of demerits could be seen holding open doors and doing various chores for the teachers in order to be awarded merits to take them back into the "safe zone"
The system was only used in the lower school ages 11-13 and was discontinued in the upper school at ages 13-17 we were supposedly too mature to be motivated in this way.

 
I recently had to stay in a motel while on business for 2 days. The 1st afternoon after my meeting I went to lay by the pool.  I was reading the paper and dozing off and on for awhile. I finally must have dozed off because I was woke up by the sounds of crying and looked across the pool to see a mother using her wooden sandal on one of 2 twin daughters who were about my grandaughter's age of 11-13. She had her daughter across her knee and delivered 6-7 good swats to the seat of the girls wet bottom. She then let the girl up and ordered the other twin girl across her knee and I watched and counted the sandal swats and the girl got 12 hard very fast sandal swats to the bottom of her wet bikini suit. Both girls (crying & rubbing) and mom then walked out the door. I thought to myself THERE are parents who still do spank.

 
My father spanked us with his belt many times growing up. I remember one when I was about 5 or 6. We were eating dinner and the strap on my sister's high chair broke. And my dad got up and took his belt off to put around her so she wouldn't slip. When I saw him get up and take off his belt I got so scared that I jumped down on the floor to hide under the table. When I realized what he was doing i felt really silly. When my parents asked me what I was doing I pretended I dropped something so they wouldn't know what I thought.

 
I think about half of the spankings I got growing up were because of being “framed” by my sister and half of hers where because of things I did to get her in trouble. She was more than three years younger than I so for awhile I had an advantage before she was smart enough to frame me. Also she couldn’t think up of an excuse of how she wasn’t the guilty one. I remember doing things like spitting toothpaste and mouth rinse on the bathroom mirror before going to bed. Then when mom would ask about the mess I’d play innocent and say it was clean when I left. After a “scary” interrogation by my mom, my sister would deny it in a way that mom thought she was lying and get her butt spanked. But, as she got older she learned how to get me in trouble. My mom went through several weight gains and losses so when I called the fat girl across the street fat, my mom would get very upset. So of course my sister would make up stories that I called her fat. When I was asked about it I would deny it and when the neighbor girl was asked my sister already told her to lie and say I was teasing her. So then, I’d get spanked. Other times I would cut my sister’s antique doll’s hair. I would say that I saw my sister cut it because she thought the doll needed a “trim.” Of course the evidence was neatly placed in my sister’s room. On days that I was supposed to do chores, my sister would later follow and mess it up as though I hadn’t done it. So, growing up I would lie about things my sister did or didn’t do and listen as she got her spanking.

 
My sister always spanked her dolls. They always got it otk and always bare. She was very hard on them. They only had to think about being naughty and they got spanked. And if they looked at her the wrong way, Oh boy, were they in trouble. 
I have a perfectly vivid memory of my sis aged about 5 wagging her finger at one of her dolls and saying "Don't you look at me in that tone of manner" but the dolly's "manner" didn't change, so it found itself over her knee getting spanked into the middle of next week. 
Our parents thought it was really cute.

 
I was about 8 or 9. I was in a tremendous "strop" because I thought I was being treated unfairly, I can't remember if it was because I had been spanked unjustly or whether I was being made to do something I didn't want to do, or if I was being prevented from doing something I did want to do, but I can remember IT WAS SO NOT FAIR.
I told my mom that I wasn't going to stay there and be mistreated, I was going to leave home and go and live in the woods. She looked out of the window and said "Well take your coat then it, looks like rain." 
I gathered together all my most precious possessions stuffed them into a backpack, put my coat on and stomped out of the house, before I had reached the gate my mom gave me some sandwiches, wrapped in greaseproof paper, to keep me going until I found somewhere else to live, and said "Don't forget if you ever want to come home again that will be okay".
I stayed out until long after it had gone dark and then went back home and asked if I could come back and live at home, because I thought my little sister would miss me if I wasn't there. She picked me up hugged me, "Of course you can", she said and carried me up to bed, "but remind me to put you over my knee tomorrow, for staying out so late".

 
At the swimming pool of my brother, a four year old girl was annoying her kid sister incessantly. She didn't get three warnings, but thirty. All to no avail. Her dad called out: "if I have to call you again, your buttocks will be very red!" But it was just to great fun to make her sister cry again. Her father cried out "And now you come here for your promissed spanking". She was thunderstruck, but the way she approached her father showed some experience (she is a lovely girl, but not the best behaved of the family). She knew what was coming, and she didn't dare to disobey. The moment she stood before him, he grabbed her, turned her over his knee and gave her four seriously hard swats that turned her bare bottom indeed very red. And yes, she was an angel the rest of the afternoon.

 
My parents kept two paddles in our house. Originally it was smaller paddle with the picture of fawn and bear on it and with writing "For little deer with bear behind" over the picture.

I and my siblings were spanked with that paddle when we were younger. When my oldest brother turned 12 and half or so our parents got another, bigger and thicker paddle. Younger children were still spanked with small paddle but as we each turned that threshold age of about 12 and half we were each introduced to the bigger paddle. Procedure for spankings also changed. Our dad still paddled us over his knee, but our mom was not very big and she could not use this longer paddle to spank us over her lap as she could with smaller paddle. So for paddlings by mom we now had to kneel on the bed with face down and bare behind sticking up for the "woodfire".

Big paddle hurt noticeably worse than the small one. Well, "noticeably" is certainly the word as you could not fail to notice it!

But what was also different about the bigger paddle was much more explicit picture on it.

Bigger paddle had "HEAT FOR THE SEAT" written along it in big red letters and at the end of the paddle there was a very realistic picture of boy being paddled by mother over her lap. Boy's pants were below the knees, his bare bottom was painted red, hand gripped behind his back, his head was turned around showing crying face and even tears running down.

I did see some novelty paddles afterwards that had pictures on them but this one was by far the most "graphic" and embarrassing I ever saw. Alas, I had to come to know this paddle all too close and personally for over two years growing up and had to see it for longer than that.

What was also very embarrassing is that whenever one of us had bouts of misbehavior our parents would take the paddle out of the drawer and hang it in the hallway close to our rooms. At first it was "Little deer" paddle, but after the bigger paddle was bought they would hang this one instead. As there were 4 kids in the house the paddle used to hang on the wall half of the time if not most of the time. It was bad when my friends used to come over. Of course pretty much all my friends were spanked by our parents too but here was a reminder hanging in the open about my spankings for everyone to see. It was bad enough with "Little deer" paddle but it was much worse with "Heat for the seat" paddle. Whenever any of my friends saw it for the first or even second time they would giggle but even later they always seemed to express an amused interest. I felt embarrassed about it because the paddle was obviously for spankings and nothing else and also because the picture was so eloquent and explicit about painful bare bottom spankings and crying. And also because paddlings from dad were indeed the same way as it was on the picture so it felt like the picture was betraying family secret for everyone to see. When my friends were looking at the picture on this paddle it felt almost like they were watching me getting spanked bare butt and bawling or if someone told them in detail about my spankings and how they happened.

I felt embarrassed and when I got older I would pretend this paddle was only for my younger brother and sister but by the way I felt blushing I do not think it was convincing even for those of my friends who did not know better anyway.

I begged mom and dad to take the paddle off but they were adamant and even said something to the effect that my begging shows paddle being on display serves its purpose of reminding about the consequences of misbehavior.


 
We had the "cute little deer...." paddle at our house too, and we felt it across our "bear behinds" on a number of occasions.

I remember the day mom bought the paddle. We were at Lincoln's Birthplace in Hodgenville KY on a family outing when we stopped in a gift shop at the park. There were several paddles all lined up on a counter along with other gifts and novelties. I can still see them on display including the "heat for the seat" paddle with the boy's bare red bottom displayed on it. There were also paddles called "hide tanners", "mother's little helper" and "board of education". I remember "mother's (or father's)little helper" and "hide tanner" both had pictures of bare bottomed children on them. The former had a picture of both a boy and a girl bend over crying side by side with bottoms bare and red (you could see their faces and the tops of their bottoms the way they were positioned) as the mother (or father depending on the paddle) was shown swatting their bottoms. The "hide tanner" had a picture of a girl with her skirt up around her waist rubbing her panty covered bottom with little red marks surrounding her behind to show it was hurting, and a boy bent over his bottom bare and his hands on his knees getting spanked by his father. I was glad that mom chose the "cute little deer...." paddle. It was embarrassing enough having that one hanging in the kitchen for all to see, but it would have been even more embarrassing if we had one showing the children getting their bare bottoms spanked.


 
We have new neighbors and they spank their 4 children. They seem to be a delightful family with very well behaved, articulate children. There are 2 girls and 2 boys, ages 4,6,9,and 10 (the oldest and youngest are boys). The mother homeschools the children and the father is the new pastor at a local church. The 9 year old was talking to me in the yard while I was working in my flower bed earlier in the week when their father arrived home. She excused herself before being called, adding that she needed to go inside because she and her brother were getting "smacked bottoms" because they had "not cooperated with Mommy during their lessons before lunch". It was not long after she went into the house that I did indeed hear sounds of spankings being administered.

I was a little surprised that she told me too, but she was not upset about it -- definitely not cheerful in anticipating it, but not upset. She was just stating the fact, quite matter of factly. The child is quite articulate and extremely poised for a nine year old. All four of the children are just as cute as can be and have the sweetest manners. I got the impression that the Dad was the one who was going to give them the spankings since the child announced that she needed to go inside just as he pulled into the driveway. The mother was at home with the children all day, so I just figured it was a "wait 'til your father gets home" situation.

I grew up in the 60s in a neighborhood with lots and lots of children who were all spanked by our parents. During the summer holiday from school and the warmer months windows were open -- few people had central airconditioning then -- and spankings could be heard by any of the kids who were playing outside at the time. If a playmate was called inside for a spanking, it was not unusual for the rest of us to hang around to just to hear it.

I don't remember much teasing about it though. Mostly we offered sympathy to each other since one of us would probably be the one "getting it" the next day if not the same.

Also, it was not unusual for a mother to come out of the house and begin the spanking as she marched the unfortunate child inside for the real deal.


 
I was once asked if I ever stuck anything down my pants for protection when I got spanked... I laughed and replied, "No besides it wouldn't have done any good anyway." When she asked me why I said, "Well it would have been pretty useless to go to all the trouble to stick something down my pants when they were going to wind up around my knees anyway." She asked, "You mean you got your pants pulled down?" I said, "and my underwear too." She then asked if I always got it bare and I told her that my mom always spanked on the bare butt. She told me that she padded her panties with almost half a roll of toilet paper (I had a hard time believing she used that much) but her mom caught on after the first couple of smacks then pulled her pants and panties down. She said she ended getting spanked even harder for wasting the toilet paper. She aslo told me that from that time on she got all her spankings on the bare bottom, up to her last one about two weeks before her eighteenth birthday.

 
There were only two spankings that I received that left red or pink marks afterwards. The first one occurred when I was 7 years-old. I had bad feelings about that one for a while. As an adult, I realize that my mother was under tremendous stress at that time. My father was working long hours and was away for a week. Mom had three rambunctious children to watch, while also helping out with my grandparents. I know I pushed her buttons many times, and she probably just snapped and took it out on me that time. I really got my bottom blistered that time.

The second time, I was 12 years-old and I got a belt whipping from my dad. I was caught skipping school, and I had lied to him about it. I think I also smelled like cigarette smoke. One of my friends smoked and I remember trying it that day.

I was spanked over my panties, but I really got it good! It hurt to sit down during supper, and when I rolled over at night, it hurt. My bottom had pink marks for a while. I remember wearing a skirt to school the next day because I didn't want anything to touch or rub my bottom. That spanking really reminded me of what I did wrong, and what not to do again.


 
When I was a little girl I received a spanking for the majority of my offences, while i wasn't naughty all that often when I was I was spanked. As a mother I did use spanking on my daughters but I also used other methods such as time-out. I don't believe that spanking for everything has the desired results, but you need spanking when the other methods do not produce the desired result. Children need to be able to predict the consequences of their actions, rudeness to my husband and I was an automatic spanking offence. Being naughty while out of the house was a time-out in the corner, but it wasn't called a time-out then. If they came out of the corner then they had a spanking. I was always sent to the corner after a spanking. As a parent you use what works and to consider whether to spank make an informed decision, I looked at both sides and I decided that I would spank my children.

Much to my husbands chagrin we have four daughters aged from four to 15. My eldest daughters are 13 and 15 and they are no longer spanked. My youngest two are 4 and 6 and both girls are still subject to a spanking. When I was a little girl my parents used spanking and they spanked my sister brother and I until our mid teens. Our spankings were bare-bottomed. My husband and I spanked the girls over our laps on their panties and with our eldest the younger two will be spanked until they turn 12/13. As a mother I was actually quite nervous when I spanked my eldest for the first time. I spanked her when she didn't put her shoes in her closet after I had asked her twice to do. She put up quite a fuss, and I probably didn't spank her as hard as my mother spanked me. With your first child, your always nervous with what you do with them.

Personally spanking works as a form of discipline as long as it is used responsibly and not for every offence. When I was growing up I had maybe five or six spankings a year, my girls have received less than half of those.


 
In response to my wife and I saying it would feel strange to spank, one of our sisters-in-law once summed it up best. She said (this is from memory) it is definitely a strange feeling the first few time you spank, and it really does "hurt" the parent. However, she also said that if you believe your child needs this kind of correction, you'd better be prepared to firmly follow through, NOT give into their pleas (No mom, please don't spank me), spank hard enough, and be ready for all kinds of kicking, blocking, squirming, crying or even load and screaming. Once the spanking starts, she says think of the crying as your best feedback. "You know from the crying the instant they have learned their lesson. Give another swat, or two, and that's about when you stop."

 
I grew up down south in Georgia.

Growing up in a house with 2 sisters, we frequently argued and fussed with each other. Though physical fighting was a more rare occurance, there were times we hit or pinched, etc. There were times when the "disturbance" would end with all three of us getting a spanking and often one was less guilty than the others. My older sister was really good about quietly causing a ruckus of some sort and it was usually my noisy reaction that got us all into trouble.

I was definitely the most strong-willed, defiant child in my family. I admit I was spanked more often than both my sisters combined. I would take risks and be willfully disobedient even when I knew I was going to be caught and punished.

Growing up in a household with 3 girls there was always some sort of drama -- being the middle child, I was the one who usually provided most of the drama.

My mother spanked us when we were young children, but about the itme I turned 9, corporal punishment changed in our household. What had been just spontaneous, as our mother felt we needed spankings, became more "formal events". We were informed at a family meeting that certain offenses would definitely mean a spanking would be given and it was explained just how those spankings would take place. It was also explained that if we chose to fight our punishment, we would be spanked separately for that disobedience. At this point, my dad took over the job of actually administering corporal punishment.

When corporal punishment became a "formal" event at our house, we girls started getting spanked by our father while bending across the bed. The majority of the time pants or shorts and underwear remained in place. However, there were times after a few lashes were given over clothing, Mother would stop the proceedings long enough to pull our pants and panties down to the knees and then our father would resume the spanking.

Most of the time, I was spanked with my panties in place. I can't imagine the thin nylon or cotton panties offered any protection from the switch or belt. The stripes or welts could definitely be seen through them. There were only a few times that I was instructed to take them down or off and I never asked why, but I think it was to designate a "more serious" spanking. It definitely added to the humiliation, submission factor! During the time I was growing up and getting spanked, girls had to wear dresses to school. I remembered being instructed to hold my dress up and out of the way. If I was wearing wool pants or jeans, they were to be removed.

I ALWAYS was in tears before there was any contact of a belt or switch to my rear, just knowing what was coming would reduce me to crying. Before the punishment began, I would beg for forgiveness, promising never to do whatever it was again, assuring my parents that I did not need to be spanked, etc. During the event, I would cry, scream, yell and beg for it to stop.

I don't remember it ever really being painful to sit after a spanking -- maybe just a sensation of warmth after the initial stinging. There were plenty of times when there were stripes on my legs from the switch and welts on my rearend and thighs from the belt a day or two after the event. During warm weather, the marks were sometimes visible and if friends noticed they would ask why I got a spanking. One such time that I remember well was after a spanking with the switch one morning before going to swimming lessons. The bathing suit provided nothing to conceal the tell-tale evidence on my bare legs and friends were anxious for the details. I do remember that being a rather humiliating consequence of my morning misbehavior.

I was one who declared I would never spank my children. I ate those words BEFORE my first was born after observing friends who would visit us and had no control over their unruly, disobedient, destructive child. My husband and I both decided we would do whatever necessary to avoid raising a child that our friends and relatives would dread coming to visit.

My children are the joy of my life. Yes, they did turn out as well as my husband and I had tried to bring them up to be. Our oldest, a son, was by nature an "easy" child. He had a compliant personality and really wanted to do what was right, pleasing his parents. Our daughter, every bit as precious to us, was more strong-willed and a risk taker (a lot like her mother!) and was spanked more frequently than her brother.


 
Both my brother and I got a lecture before the actual spanking. But we had to endure that in position over our stepfather's knee with, in my case, my dress over my back and my knickers right down. In my brother Raymond`s case he got the lecture once over our stepfather's knee with his trousers and underpants also right down. The lecture seemed to go on for ages, all the time we being only too aware that our bare bottoms were directly under his gaze. Then eventually he would hand spank us and it really hurt. It stopped for me as I approached 13 but Raymond had to endue this until he was about 16. That was in the sixties when their was a lot more taking down of knickers and underpants for correcting a wayward boy or girl.

 
When we were little my parents didn't care if we had private spankings at home. Privacy was something that we were afforded when we were around age 10. It depended on who was the doing the spanking as to what I witnessed. If daddy was spanking I would see my older brother and sister over his knee with their underwear showing. If mom was the one doing the spanking, I might see one one of their bare butts in the air. When it was my turn to be spanked I know my brother and sister saw either my panties or bare butt on several occassions.

I was a very stubborn, strong-willed child. I know that when I was little, I was spanked more than my older brother and sister, because I was so head-strong.

On the other hand, as a little girl, I had my own ideas of what should and shouldn't be spankable offenses. I understood that if I was caught stealing, lying, or being disrespectful, I would deserve a spanking. I was sometimes spanked for things that in my young mind didn't warrant a spanking: getting restless in church, lashing out when I was being teased, knocking things over (my grandmother's pies), or throwing a tantrum out of frustration. It wasn't easy being the little sister!

If I felt the spanking was unjust, I dug in my heels even more, which usually meant I got into more trouble. I tried to withold crying as a form of protest. That didn't work.

From my own experience, stubborn kids were spanked more.

My maternal Grandma Mildred thought my parents spanked too much. She had spanked my mom and her other seven children quite soundly when they were kids. Grandma Mildred called them "thrashings." She used a homemade switch made out of a leather strap. It looked like a miniature whip as it had a handle. She always spanked bare bottom.

In her later years, my grandma admitted to her children, my mother included, that she thought there were better ways of punishing children. She didn't want her kids to spank as often as she did. She thinks it should be used only sparingly. According to my Grandma Mildred many of our offenses weren't bad enough to warrant a spanking in her opinion.


 
I put forward reasoned arguments to my mom and dad about why they shouldn't spank me and my parents thought it was really cute which was exactly the impression I did not want to create.

As a kid I suffered from an excess of cuteness ( not just the simple sort of cute that makes you say aah more a sort of compound cute which makes you stick your fingers down your throat in an attempt to relieve the nausea). This was not helped by the fact my mom used to buy me clothes which would have been more suited to a much younger child.

All I wanted was to be taken seriously, I knew that I would make mistakes and that I was responsible for the results of my actions. But I could always justify my actions according to what I believed was right or wrong, if someone disagreed with with those beliefs, they should explain why, not just upend me across their knee and spank me. After all my opinion had just as much validity as anyone Else's or so I believed.

Intellectually I was very mature by the age of twelve and any spankings I received after this age I am sure had the opposite effect on my behaviour to that which would have been desired. 

Parents will often say " if you behave like a child I will treat you like a child", before they spank you. I still act like a kid at times even though I am in my fifties but I am pretty sure I was too big to be spanked by the time I was twelve.


 
Once I was 10, I didn't think I needed to be spanked anymore. Again, this was my personal opinion, which no one paid any attention to. I found spankings so humiliating and dreaded them. I thought I was too mature for them and tried several times to reason with my mom and dad. They would giggle and think I was precocious. When I misbehaved and tried the reasoning, they scolded me and sent me straight to my room to wait for a spanking. My mom especially believed there wasn't an age to stop spanking, seeing as she got the cane at home until she left at around 18. I was in gross disagreement. Regardless, she didn't spank me much after 8th grade. The only "real" spanking I recall after that was in 9th grade (freshman year) when I was rude to her before school. I couldn't find a paper that was due so I took it out on her. We were alone in the house and after a 1/2 hour or so of my abuse, she flipped. She took me across her knee, lifted my school uniform skirt and spanked the daylights out of me right on my panties. She used only with her hand, but I realized at that point, that all the years before, my mom had been holding back. That spanking hurt worse than any other - and it was quick and I didn't cry until it was over. It happened so fast I didn't realize what happened until she stood me up and scolded me and told me I had 3 minutes to find the paper, then we were leaving. Then I started sobbing. I grabbed my rear end and fled to my room to find it. Can't remember if I did, but I remember the spanking. I was so mad all day, and the throbbing behind followed me around through my first half of the day, and when she picked me up, she gave me a long talk about responsibility and my messiness. Then she eluded to the fact I was too old and big to spank and I shouldn't ever need one again. I think she may have felt she crossed a line by spanking me that way at that age. I sure felt so. I think I was too old and too big that day.

 
This was something that happened a couple of times when I when I was about nine or ten - I loved reading, and as long as I was in bed when my parents told me to be, I was usually allowed ten minutes with the lamp on to read before my mother came to kiss me goodnight and switch the light out. The first time I had the bright idea of switching the light back on and carrying on reading for a while, I got away with it. The second time I got caught, and was given a warning - which I decided to ignore. The third time, Mom yanked me right out of bed and straight over her knee - my own hairbrush was within easy reach, so she grabbed it and spanked me hard. You'd think that would teach me, but a week or so later, it was my birthday and one of my presents was a really good flashlight - so it seemed like a good idea to try reading under the covers, with that instead of the lamp. I didn't get away with it for more than a minute before I was discovered, and found myself over Mom's knee as before - but for a much longer, harder spanking that time. I didn't do it again after that!

 
I got a number of bedtime spankings, hated to go to bed. My sister and I would talk when we were supposed to be going to sleep and then mum or dad would come in and put a stop to it. These were not especially hard smackings. We would be instructed to turn on our bellies and then our bums would get a few good smacks from the parental hand. Just enough to give a light sting and to remind us that more could follow. I remember one time resisting this smacking. I was about nine and my daddy was not in the best of moods. My sister and I were caught talking and he came in and dealt with my sister first. No turning on her belly that time, he pulled down her covers lifted her legs and gave her several hard smacks and she cried like he was beating her. When it was my turn I fought him and for that behaviour I was lifted out of my bed, put across his lap, knickers taken down and smacked until I was bawling like a baby.

 
I don't remember spankings for not going to sleep once we were in bed, but there were some for disobedience when it was time to get ready for bed and my sisters and I chose to stall or "forget" it was time. My mother had a habit at one point of telling us over and over to get baths, put on pajamas and get into bed while we girls just ignored her and tried one stall technique after another. I remember my dad calling a little family meeting and informing us that "this was our warning" and from that point forward there would be spankings for disobedience. Of course, being kids, we HAD to test to see if he really meant it. He did mean it!

 
I tried the innocent little girl look over my shoulder as Mom was lifting my dress and pulling my panties down, needless to say it didn't work. During my spanking I looked through my tear blurred eyes at the carpet and I could also see Mom's shoes and the legs of the telephone table.

 
My Mom always spanked on the bare behind. I found out that most kids were not spanked that way.From time to time I would attempt to persuade her to fall in line with the other parents who still shockingly chose to spank at all. I got the usual "I don't care what so and so's parents do...etc."

But one time as I was about to get it I asked if I couldn't at least keep my panties up. Mom had the zinger of all time "It was not your panties that misbehaved."

What really improved my behavior, at least in the short term, was when I "was owed a spanking." When we were in public, or visiting somewhere, Mom's thing was to say "I owe you a spanking." And though this was a debt I was quite willing to forgive, it was usually redeemed once we got home. However, there was time for lobbying and the possibility of pardon. When I was "owed a spanking" my behavior was perfect!!!


 
We had the "cute little deer with a bear behind" paddle at our house, and we felt it across our "bear behinds" on a number of occasions.

I remember the day mom bought the paddle. We were at Lincoln's Birthplace in Hodgenville KY on a family outing when we stopped in a gift shop at the park. There were several paddles all lined up on a counter along with other gifts and novelties. I can still see them on display including the "heat for the seat" paddle with the boy's bare red bottom displayed on it. There were also paddles called "hide tanners", "mother's little helper" and "board of education". I remember "mother's (or father's)little helper" and "hide tanner" both had pictures of bare bottomed children on them. The former had a picture of both a boy and a girl bend over crying side by side with bottoms bare and red (you could see their faces and the tops of their bottoms the way they were positioned) as the mother (or father depending on the paddle) was shown swatting their bottoms. The "hide tanner" had a picture of a girl with her skirt up around her waist rubbing her panty covered bottom with little red marks surrounding her behind to show it was hurting, and a boy bent over his bottom bare and his hands on his knees getting spanked by his father. I was glad that mom chose the "cute little deer...." paddle. It was embarrassing enough having that one hanging in the kitchen for all to see, but it would have been even more embarrassing if we had one showing the children getting their bare bottoms spanked.


 
I remember one time a friend's mother had sent us up to the local corner store to get something. We rode our bikes up--and we did goof around afterwards for a few minutes.

I believe the mother was cooking and it was something she needed right away (although she had not said anything about hurrying--at least I did not hear it). As soon as we walked in her Mom took a wooden spoon out of the drawer and told my friend to pull her pants down and bend over right there in the kitchen--oblivious to me.

I watched in hypnotic silence as red marks appeared on her butt. I did see her pain and it hurt me. But I think she must have held a lot of it in for my benefit--because her Mom covered her rear.

But I was really struck by how cold and calculating it all seemed. Nothing was said and it appeared that her Mom was methodically striking different parts of her rear that had not yet turned red. And since nothing had been said I wasn't even sure why it was happening--though I did have a suspicion.

Afterwards my friend was wiping away her tears. And I asked her why her Mom had been so upset. There was no doubt in her mind why she had gotten the spanking. So I guess it was deserved.

I did not think the spanking was unfair. Though I felt sorry for my friend of course. However, I still think her Mom should not have done it in front of me--as though she was doing no more than stirring a cake mix.


 
Mother spanked my sister and I in her bedroom with her hairbrush. She kept her hairbrush on her dresser and it had a mirror on top of it. Sometimes I looked into the mirror as Mother was lifting my dress and reaching for her dreaded hairbrush. As soon as she raised the brush over my bottom I looked down and stared blurringly at the carpet during my spanking. After spanking it was corner time and looking at a blank wall for half an hour, hands clasped over my stinging bottom.

 
I made a big mistake when I was 12/13 by presenting a note from school on a Saturday when Father and Grandfather were having lunch with leading members of staff in the family businesses. Evidently business was good – at least they were in good spirit, so I decided this was the moment to present a note from school about bad behaviour. The men even found the misbehaviour amusing (the entire class made a “ticker tape parade” by throwing granulated foam out of the window), until Mother bluntly announced a spanking when the meeting was over! These men had known me since I was a toddler and I ran in and out of the shops on the ground floor every day.  But it was awfully embarrassing that they got to know that I was still spanked like a little girl!

 
I'll never know why it entered my head to ditch school one day with a couple of friends. My father happened to be out of town that day on a business trip, something that very rarely happened. In any event, the principal phoned our parents to come pick us up at school in the middle of the afternoon, and my mother arrived. She was very cool, told the principal, simply, 'This won't happen again.' Once we were in the parking lot, she stopped, looked me dead in the eye, and slapped me once across the face. I was so ashamed and frightened, I didn't say anything, but my stomach was a ball of ice on the ride home. I'd never done anything like this before, and I could only pray thanks that my father wasn't home, because if he were there it would've been a guaranteed strapping on the bare. But my mother took me firmly by the arm and ordered me to go get the riding crop from the front closet. (Our family had owned a horse years earlier.) I was so scared, I obeyed without question. She told me to bend over the kitchen table. Didn't make me take down my pants or anything, but she gave me about 25 hard wallops with that crop, and my face was wet with tears by the time it was over. I was in shock, because she'd never whipped me before. It was the one and only time she punished me like that.

 
When I was a little girl, about so high,
momma took a little stick and made me cry,
Now I'm a big girl and momma can't do it,
papa takes a big stick and goes right to it.
How many whacks will I get? 1,2,3,4,etc

As pre-teens most girls would have skipping ropes and would play skipping games such as double dutch...The ones I remember were "salt vinegar mustard pepper" and "ice cream a penny a lump, the more you eat the more you jump" there were a couple which included references to spanking but I can't quite remember them. One which had a spanking reference was "My mother said , I never should, play with the gypsies in the wood" it then had another couple of lines and a verse which went "your mother says, you're no good, she spanks your bottom with a piece of wood" and again it had another couple of lines which I can no longer recollect. This song was also used for a clapping game where you clap hands with another person.  The girls would also sing this at you, to tease you if you had been spanked, as well as another song which was something about "little Billy Plum with the cast iron bum."

Down by the ocean, down by the sea,
Johnny broke a bottle and blamed it on me,
I told ma and ma told pa,
Johnny got a lickin' so Ha Ha Ha,
How many licks did Johnny get 1..2..3..

The girls I knew would change the name to suit any boy who happened to be within earshot.
I don't know why it was embarrassing but it was.


 
For me, it was being out in public with my mother, where others would overhear, and my mother threatening or promising to put me over her knee, pull down my panties and spank me as soon as she got me home. I don't think she was trying to humiliate and shame me in front of strangers, but she succeeded. I was sure everyone around had heard and that they were all looking at me and picturing me with my panties down. It was almost as bad as if she had actually done it right there instead of waiting until we got home.

One time this happened in front of our church right after services. And another time it was in an elevator in a department store. The time in front of church was the worst because the people there all knew me and some of them were my age. The next day in school the other children knew that Margaret had gotten a spanking from her mother yesterday. I just wanted to forget all about what my mother had given me after we got home from church; and it seemed so terribly terribly unfair that everyone knew what had happened to me even though it had happened in private in my bedroom with the door closed. And when a mean boy teased me about it at recess I got so angry I lost myself and punched him very hard before I knew what I was doing. For that I got another spanking from my mother, and that time she did it with a switch.

This particular boy was just mean, he wasn't trying to be friendly. He liked to tease people, mostly other boys. But I guess I just looked vulnerable that day. I wasn't the first child he ever teased about a spanking either.

I wasn't whipped with a switch very often, only on occasions when my mother thought I had been an especially naughty girl. And this was one of those occasions. I gave the boy a nosebleed and made him cry I hit him so hard. It was conduct unbecoming of a lady. I felt good for a few moments after I punched him and then the fear came because I knew I was in so much trouble.

I got sent to the principal's office and scolded. But what I really feared was that my mother would be called. Sure enough, she was. And she told me on the phone to come straight home after school because I was going to get a thrashing for what I had done. A thrashing meant being turned over her knee for a willow switch on my bare behind. This was the worst punishment there was. And for the rest of the school day I couldn't listen to anything the teacher was saying because I was so full of fear about what was going to happen to me when I got home.


 
I remember trying desperately to take it “like a big girl” while digging my fingers into the bedspread. I counted four maybe five before bursting into breathless howling. When I was second in line after my sister I was too paralysed watching what was in store for me to count at all so the assessment was done by my sister watching me when she had it over with. Six/seven whacks when we were young 8/9 years and nine/ten when we got older is a fair estimate. Father spanked fairly slowly and methodically so ten whacks would have taken about 15 seconds.

My dare devil sister used to refer to a spanking as “five minutes in hell” when she took the risk of getting one into account when she chose to misbehave and that would have included her foot dragging “walk to the scaffold”, the preparation, the ordeal and the after sting. In retrospect it was a bearable incident – actually I sometimes suffered worse pain when I fell on my roller skates or off my bike but nevertheless a spanking was the most scaring part of everyday childhood life. Strange really.

I can’t help thinking that one reason we feared it - though it should be a “bearable” ordeal in retrospect - was the “marketing or branding” of the whole thing. Parents and school used it as deterrence and didn’t “sugar” it the least when referring to it. The whole formal set up around a spanking (at least in my family) built up to a climax so that Father really didn’t have to inflict an unreasonable lot of pain, the rumours, friends and peers talking about it, hearing it, etc. etc. The whole atmosphere around spanking was horror. Compare it with a ghost story where the director builds up tension and horror by simple means – a flapping curtain or a creaking door and leave the rest to the spectator’s imagination. Some children are mentally more sensitive than others. While I had a vivid imagination and could “live on” and would remember a spanking for months and months after my sister seemed to forget it quickly.


 
On time I was already bent over, panties down, Mom ready to smack me with her hairbrush (by the way I have been thinking, this should have been called a spankingbrush since I know it was never used for its intended purpose).

Anyway, I squeaked out "But Mom, I'm too young to die."

Mom started laughing--and I didn't get spanked!


 
We did always get that "do I have to pull the car over?" thing. Except for a few times when I was spanked away from home, Mom's thing was to always say "she owed me a spanking."

This was a debt I would have freely forgiven. And though Mom ususally followed through there were a few pardons.

My sister did once get it at a rest stop. She had been mouthy and incessently picking on me. Dad was driving and Mom asked him to pull into the rest stop.

She did not have her hairbrush with her. So at first she asked Dad for his belt. The she changed her mind and asked me to get a switch off a nearby tree. And she then took my sister by the arm up to the ladies room.

I delivered a stick to her. Mom took it and started stripping leaves off of it and told me to wait outside. She got a pretty serious spanking. I was surpised when Sis later showed me the welts on her butt--as I had never been spanked with a switch.

Another woman in the rest room saw the whole thing. Mom sent Sis back to the car and she later came out with this stranger and they talked for a few minutes before we all continued on our journey.

Mom brought the switch back to the car and put it on the dashboard--I guess in case it was needed again. Believe me it was not!


 
My mom always went younger first. I am the middle of three girls (2yrs apart each way) so I had the misfortune of being first sometimes and second sometimes. I really hated watching my younger sis get it, knowing I was next and it would be worse for me being older. Part of me wanted hers to be over and part of me wanted it to keep going so my turn would be delayed. Usually we got it for fighting, so when I watched my older sis get it, I was done and glad she was getting her comeuppance. Of course if I had thought about it more I'd have realized that as long as my older sis got it, I would still get it at that age too.

 
My Mother said that I never should
Play with the gypsies in the wood;
My Mother said that if I did,
She'd smack my bottom with a teapot lid.
Teapot lid, teapot lid.
She'd smack my bottom with a teapot lid.

My Mother said that I never should
Play with the Gypsies in the wood;
But I did, and she did say,
Naughty girl to disobey.
Disobey, disobey.
Naughty girl to disobey.

My Mother said come over to me
You're going to go across my knee;
Daughter dear you'll learn to mind,
When I smack your bare behind.
Bare behind, bare behind.
When I smack your bare behind.

Mother you'll do no such thing.
My gypsy sweetheart gave me a ring;
Bought me a biscuit, bought me a tart.
What do you think of my sweetheart?
My sweetheart, my sweetheart.
What do you think of my sweetheart?

I have a bonnet trimmed with blue.
Now I'll take my leave of you.
I shall wear it when I can,
Walk to church with my young man.
My young man, my young man.
Walk to church with my young man.

My young man went off to France
To teach the ladies how to dance.
He's come back to marry me,
Give me kisses, One, Two, Three.
One Two Three, One Two Three.
Give me kisses, One, Two, Three.

Your hair shan't curl and your shoes shan't shine,
You gypsy girl you shan't be mine.
The wood is dark, the grass is green;
If you go with the gypsies you'll never be seen.
Never be seen, never be seen.
If you go with the gypsies you'll never be seen.

I ran to the sea - no ship to get across;
So I paid ten cents for a blind white horse.
I jumped on his back, was off in a crack,
So farewell Mother I'll never be smacked.
Never be smacked, never be smacked.
So farewell Mother I'll never be smacked.


 
Girls were generally better behaved. We were taught to “please, drop curtseys and smile politely” and we were generally more cautious and quieter by nature. Teachers at my mixed school did face slapping in front of class and while girls were not exempted (unlike getting the cane at the head’s office) probably four or five boys got slapped for every girl. What got the boys slapped and spanked at school or at home was their more aggressive and noisy behaviour.

However, active and aggressive girls got spanked as much as boys. My sister was a tomboy and got considerably more spankings than I did – e.g. for silly boyish stuff like jumping from the roof of our bicycle shed which was strictly forbidden and which I would never have dared or doing un-lady like things like fighting, hand springs or flip flops etc. while wearing skirts. My youngest daughter is the spitting image of my active sister and got more spankings than her one year older and much quieter brother when they were both 9-10-11 years old.

I sometimes pitied the boys. Any adult who caught a boy doing wrong seemed “authorised” to slap or smack him. When we played in the back yard after school it wasn’t unusual to see a boy have a leg of his short trousers pulled up and have his bare thigh smacked. If a girl was slapped in public at all it was done by a parent and rarely if ever was her skirt raised - at least till she was inside.

My town school (co-ed all through secondary school like 90 per cent of schools in my country) only caned boys and only in the head’s office while others evidently didn’t distinguish between genders. I knew even at the time that the cane was given over clothes and I verified that in official documents many years later (max three strokes over clothes no reference at all to age/witness/gender of head/pupil) and I thought girls were better off wearing (at least during winter) a pleated woolen skirt and a petticoat underneath while boys wore worsted or corduroy shorts that looked pretty thin to me. However, when my entire class misbehaved and I and the other 12/13 year old girls got a note to take home for “proper parental action” while the boys got the cane I would have preferred three strokes over skirts to my father’s stick on my bare behind any time.


 
The worst thing about being nine was the fact that your opinions counted for so little, you could be picked up, carried around, spanked, put in bed, regardless of whether you agreed or cooperated or not.

Elasticated waists first became popular for kids clothes when I was about nine and I always assumed it was for the convenience of whoever was spanking you (it didn't occur to me that it might be to accommodate growth) consequently I would never wear anything which had an elasticated waist unless it was also fitted with a draw string. (Nobody was going to pull my pants down without a struggle).


 
I was always spanked over the knee and I remember putting my [hand back and] covering my bottom while Mother was lifting my dress, when I did that I had my arm pinned at my back and she was trying to lower my panties with one hand, looking back it must have looked rather funny me squirming with one hand behind my back and Mother trying to raise my dress and take my panties down.

My grandfather spanked me for swinging my legs in Church during an Easter service. He spanked me bare bottomed when we arrived home and I was sent to bed after supper, which I ate with a cushion under my bottom. I was thirteen when he died and I remember sitting next to my mother and thinking about that when I was looking at his coffin, I did love him but I was not happy with him that evening.


 
We kids had many debates about who got it the worst. . The votes were 5 to 3 with the belt winning. However, everyone voted for the implement used on them. I don't think anyone got both. It seemed to be a household thing. Either you got it with something wooden (in my case, the yardstick) or something leather. Switches were sort of a combo thing -- made of wood but flexible like leather.

 
I found myself being taken to the bathroom or out to the car when we were in public on a couple of occasions by my mother for a good bare bottom spanking. Afterwards while I was pulling my pants back up and crying she would tell me, "Next time I'll pull your pants down in the store and spank your bare butt in front of God and everybody". There were a few times she lived up to that threat.

I was shopping at Wally World (Wal-Mart) not too long ago and I saw a woman with her mother and her daughter shopping. The little girl was crying and rubbing her bottom. When the grandmother asked what was wrong, the mother replied, "I got tired of her sassy little mouth so I took her to the ladies room, pulled her panties down and blistered her bare butt just like you used to do to me when I acted up." Then they continued with their shopping.


 
My parents never set a number of spanks. It always depended on what we had done. They were sure a spanking was effective when the tops of our cheeks to the tops of our thighs were pink to red and we were crying hard.

Both Mom and Dad were firm believers in CP. They were both pretty strict, and a week wouldn't go by without one of us six getting a spanking. Mom spanked more because she was home with us, but Dad's were more severe. Not so much that they hurt more (which they did), but I always felt that discipline delivered by a male had more severity to it. Dad gave us less whacks, but they meant more.

We were spanked with whatever was handy. You name it: the hairbrush, paddle, wooden spoon, spatula, slipper. Grandma used a flyswatter, and our one Aunt liked the switch.

Well, the switch I only got a few times, and those times I did were pretty bad. It hurts really bad and leaves welts. But, I'd have to say that I hated the hairbrush the most. It stung like crazy, but it would only leave your bottom a light shade of pink. It was small enough so my parents could paddle you real fast with it.

My mother's most used implement was the wooden spoon, though. She always had it handy and ready to use lickity split. As we got older, most often we got the paddle. It was a sturdy smaller one. Not one of those big fraternity paddles. It was about 7 inches long and 4 inches wide with a handle. That hurt pretty badly, too. And my parents almost always spanked bare.

My one Grandma owns a bunch of horses and she spanked me a few times with a riding crop. That was awful! I remember refusing to use it on the horses after that.

My friends and i used to use the spanking machine when we played truth or dare. You could opt out of the answering the question or doing the dare by going through the spanking machine instead. Everyone would grap wooden spoons, spatulas, hairbrushes, etc. Most people took the truth or dare.


 
I was shopping with my mom at the mall. Mom had bought me a lot of clothes already, but I wanted these one pair of jeans really badly. My mom wouldn’t buy them because they were really expensive. I threw a tantrum right there in the store. I whined and complained. I told her that everyone else’s parents bought them for their daughters and that she was just cheap and mean. She grabbed me by the arm and told me our shopping was over and we were going home. I wouldn’t have gotten a spanking if I had left it at that. But I kept whining and refused to go. I threw down the shopping bags and said NO. Well my mom got fed up with me and said fine. She marched me over to the dressing rooms and took me into a larger one. She told me that if I was going to act like a little kid she was going to treat me like one. So, she fished her hairbrush out of her purse and forced me across her lap. She pulled my pants and underwear down and began to spank me hard with the brush. I was so embarrassed because I was in my favorite store and it was so loud, anyone could have heard it. When I was crying hard and my mom seemed pleased, she put her hairbrush away and she asked me if i was ready to leave now. I just nodded and she steered me out of the dressing rooms. We walked past a friend from school who gave me a pitying look.

 
My mom's father who lives in the countryside of England used a riding crop on me when I was 10. It did hurt terribly and I remember thinking about not ever using it on a horse. My grandpa was a great guy, but he was quiet and a bit intimidating when I was young. I was told by my nana to help her in the kitchen but I hid in their stable instead, and when I was found out, grandpa bent me across his thigh, yanked my skirt up over my back and flicked the crop over my panties very fast. I remember it all happened so quickly that the actual spanking was over before I knew what happened. With a crop like that you can whack someone many many times in not long at all. After he finished he pulled me up to a standing postition and I thought it wasn't bad, until BAM, all at once a horrible burning hit my bottom and I started to cry quite loudly. He walked me back to the house and I rubbed my skirt like crazy until we were inside. I had to mop the floor as I was still crying a bit. When I told my dad later that night, he was mad at my grandpa for handling my spanking with that crop and not a slipper or something he saw as less severe.

It was nothing compared to some handspankings in terms of how nany whacks, but my God it hurt. I'm not a rider, so bear with my terminology, but the little metal ring thing that's at the base of the crop part nipped my rear end several times, and that left marks...I was so mad at my grandpa and wouldn't talk to him for a week after that. My mom was quite angry at her father as well. She forbid her parents to spank us with anything other than their hand (she was raised by them and knew their cane and such--Brits) but her parents had the tendency to ignore my moms wishes when it came to us kids---good and bad. She threatened to never leave me alone with them after that...I don't know if she did...at least not at that age where I was a bit defenseless.

Even though I am anti-spanking, I can recall a couple that were absolutely deserved. Once when I was five or six, my brother spanked my bare bottom (only time he pulled my pants down ever) for using a racial slur I heard my neighbor use, and he spanked me in front of his gf (now wife). I have never felt worse about anything in my life, and to this day am glad I was spanked for it. The other times, when I did something dangerous and scared my parents out of their wits - like playing in construction sites by open wells, and skipping out when everyone was asleep. Those spanking were always by my mom and were the worst in several ways. And even though if I had a child and they did what I did, I wouldn't spank, I know I definitely deserved those.


 
When I was 6 years-old I remember being a real pain in the behind one morning. I was fussing, whining, throwing a fit, and refusing to go to school. I can't remember what my mother was doing at the time, but my dad was in charge of getting me ready that morning. I probably received a warning, but I don't remember due to my whining and crying. Before I knew it, my dad stepped out of the bathroom with the belt in his hand. I received a burning slap to my bare thigh (I was wearing a dress). I started crying instantly and received another couple of slaps on my butt. That was the first time I ever been spanked with the belt.

The other early belt spanking that I received also happened while my father was getting ready work. I around 8 at the time. I was acting out and my mother told my dad to spank me. Daddy was getting ready for work and gave me several good stinging swats with the belt.

The master bedroom does not have a bathroom connected to it. The bathroom was between my parent's room and my room. I would wake up around the same time each morning to hear my father get ready for work. I know he was doing his usual routine. My father has a terrible sense of smell, and in my opinion puts on too much cologne or aftershave. Sometimes I would catch a whiff of the aftershave from my room. I usually sound asleep when he was getting ready for work.

I was staying home because I had a horrid case of tonsillitis and a high fever. I heard my father getting ready for work. I heard a quiet knock, and caught a whiff of the aftershave. My dad was checking up on me before leaving. While he was standing by my bed he started buckling his belt. My dad spoke gently to me and was deeply concerned that I was so sick. I knew it wasn't the right time to think this, but my earlier memories of being spanked with the belt before dad went off to work came into my mind. At the time, those thoughts bothered me. I was thinking, my dad is worried about me and trying to comfort me, and I'm remembering the times he spanked me with the belt.

I have a quirky mind or memory. There are times when I watch my husband as he gets ready for work; when he puts on the belt, I occassionally recall events of my dad punishing me. It isn't a fear, but sometimes the belt brings back memories. Even after all these years, I still remember the sting of the belt. I've always thought the belt was the worst thing to be spanked with.


 
[Question: What did you think about when you were being spanked?]

I don't remember thinking anything while I was getting it, just reacting to what I got. It hurt but I don't remember ever thinking ouch this stings, I was just aware of the hurt and responded to that. You know squirming and sobbing my heart out. I know I would scream and plead for an end but that was all about the pain I was feeling. If I had any real thoughts I was not aware of them. The world seemed to only consist of the punishing hand and my bum.  -Molly

When I was little all I could do was cry wanting it to end, as I got a little older then I had thoughts in my head-but they were only momentarily. At first I always thought, "I hate you" about whoever was spanking me and I often shouted it out too... then I felt like an idiot for getting myself into that situation I was in and hating.  -Elle

I was thinking about how many spanks I was going to get, how long my spanking would be and I was thinking of ways of improving my behavior to avoid future spankings. I was also thinking about whether Daddy was going to spank me as well for being naughty. He did once but that was enough to have me very worried. I also resented Mom giving me a spanking and I was sobbing and feeling butterflies when Mom was taking my panties down while I lay across her lap.  -Michelle

First: Be as obedient as possible to minimise the damage. I should cry and thrash my feet to show that it hurts, not too much (stubborn, resisting), not too little (stubborn, resisting).  Then: Oh God, THIS hurts. Please, not so hard. Not again on the same place. Daddy doesn't know that this hurts so much.  Next: I can't take this, it hurts horribly.  The end: Please, please I'll be good, I'll never do it, please.  -Mieke

I [would] usually think about if the neighbours are home, and if they can hear me getting spanked if they are.  -Susanna

God, I can't believe how much that hairbrush STINGS!!!!  -Ann

Why oh why didn't I get home on time????  -Andrea


 
If there is no other reason there is always the shame of having misbehaved enough to trigger the act. As I remember it myself (real) embarrassment was very far from being my major concern though I got spanked bare by my father till I had just turned 13 (I was immature and hadn’t reached puberty yet). He was my father and not “a man” and was used to seeing my sister and me running around the place in underwear. CP wasn’t a subject of discussion among my friends, but I know for sure that my best friend at the time (age 11/12/13) always got it bare and I had seen my uncle (Father’s brother) spank his daughter bare when she was that age (my thread spanked unjustly in archive 3) so I believed spankings were mainly given by fathers and always on the bare.

Spanking over (a thick woolen pleated) skirt, petticoat and knickers is a totally useless exercise – maybe unless you use a cane or heavy paddle, so spanking fathers had to raise skirts or lower pants. For my part this led to the conclusion that spanking (as a last resort only) is a childish punishment for childish offences and may be given by either parent irrespective of the child’s gender – even on the bare behind, because when embarrassment becomes a (serious) issue the child is probably too old for this kind of punishment – be it 10 or 12 but very rarely older unless it is very immature.


 
My father didn't even like to see me in pajamas or bathrobe downstairs in most cases, although this wasn't a strict rule. I was normally expected to be properly dressed to come down the stairs. And by the time I was school aged, to be seen anywhere in the house in my underwear, aside from my room or the bathroom with the door closed, was a spanking offense.

I don't remember feeling embarrassed about the experience of being put over a parent's knee (just afraid!).  I assumed all the other kids my age still got spanked.

My parents strongly instilled in me that a proper little girl always sits nicely and plays nicely with her skirts properly in place. Pants and shorts were not permitted for religious reasons. I was trained to cover my knees with my hem when I sat down and to sit with my knees together. At the playground I was forbidden from climbing on things in such a manner as might give people, especially boys, a glimpse under my dress. Even on the swings at the playground, I was taught to get onto a swing by sitting down from the front rather than stepping into it from the back so that I would remain modest while swinging. If my mother saw me romping on the grass with some other children and thought I wasn't being ladylike enough in keeping my upper legs from view she would call me into the house for an admonishment, and maybe more than just that. So of course, turning cartwheels or doing headstands was out of the question. 

A thick woolen pleated skirt worn over a full petticoat defeats the intention of a father bent upon giving its occupant a well deserved spanking, unless both garments are first lifted out of the way. But as a child, this still went against my training. It was an embarrassment for me not only in my teen years but at younger ages, when most of my spankings occurred. I was trained to feel shame and embarrassment at being exposed that way, and then my father exposed me that way whenever he disciplined me.


 
We were all setting around in the break room talking about our kids and the subject got around to discipline. One woman spoke up while we talked, about the "beatings" our little darlings had to endure, and she snapped at us and walked out of the room. As she was a friend I followed her to find out what was bothering her. When I asked her what was wrong, she started telling me about her horrible childhood, the abuse she suffered at the hands of her mother and the fact she hardly ever spoke to her. I finally asked her what her mother used to do to her. She said, "she used to beat me." I said, "She beat you?" Having known her since high school and couldn't begin to see her as an abusive parent. So I asked her, "What did she do?" She said, "She used to put me over her lap and spank my bare bottom." I asked, "and...." She just stared at me in disbelief and said, "Didn't you hear me, she used to pull my panties down and spank my bare bottom." I asked what she hit her with, and she said her hand. Then I started laughing.

 
My dad tried to smack us in private but I can recall two times when he gave me a smacking in a very public place. The first was at an airport when I was eight. We were on our way to London and I got separated from my mum and dad. There was a little gift counter that I wanted to visit and had been told no but I allowed myself to get separated and go there. My very frantic dad found me and had no desire to find a private place to deliver to me the consequences for my behaviour. He raised his foot on to one of the seats and hoisted me over his leg. That position was rather painful to my stomach but that pain was nothing compared to the pain my bum soon felt. He raised my skirt but did not take down my knickers. I'm quite certain I put on quite the show for everyone, hooting and hollering. He gave it to me good.
The second time I was nine and it was at the beach. I wandered off and the lifeguards had to do a search for fear I had drowned. I had simply wandered off with another girl I had met there and when I returned to my family I knew straight away something was very wrong. When my parents saw me they hugged me but the next thing I knew my dad was dragging me to the picnic area and over his lap I went. He did not take my cozzie down but he did give me a wedgy so it was bare bum he was wailing. That was one of the worst paddywhackings I ever got.

 
In 8th grade the teacher was spanking a girl. I believe her name was Holly. The teacher had Holly bent over grabbing the desk. As she was in the position the teacher had set her paddle down and was lecturing her and us about talking etc.

Suddenly Holly's boyfriend David jumped up, grabbed the paddle and jumed out the open window. We had no AC in the early 70's and it was hot so the windows were open. The teacher's jaw dropped ans she was dumbfounded for a moment. Then she stormed out the door. Holly got up and went to her seat.

A little while later (10 Min ?) David walked in followed by the teacher and Principal carrying the largest paddle I've ever seen. David got a lecture and 10 hard licks. He was jumping and screaming afterwards. Holly was totally forgotten about.


 
I always thought that it was unfair on the girls.
Although the boys would get punished more often, that was because they were not as well behaved.
Girls who were spanked at school would most often have their skirt or dress lifted and would then get spanked on their underwear whereas boys would be spanked on the seat of their trousers, even if they were hit harder, I can't ever remember any boys having their trousers removed.

 
I suppose we all did things that look bad in retrospect. In my case it was more kind of typical girls’ stuff like gossip and trying to tell on or otherwise get someone in trouble that I considered a “silly cow” at the time and gloat when I succeeded. There is one incident that I’m particularly ashamed of. My mother used to gather the 8-10 house wives that lived in the flats in our building for afternoon tea in the dining room on Friday afternoons. They would exchange gossip and discuss husbands and children and sometimes discipline. If my sister and I listened at the door we sometimes got hold of “interesting information”. On one occasion we heard that “Miss silly cow” on the floor above was going to get a spanking when her father got home from work. He was a civil servant and always home on the dot. I went up and pretended to want to play with poor girl who was confined to her room and at one time I told her that I knew what was going to happen and teased her and told her that my sister was gathering a crowd of listeners 10 yards below her window (the top frames were always open for ventilation during summer). Not a behaviour that I was proud of afterwards.

 
When I was 6, I went to see a friend who had stayed home sick from school that day. She came to the door in her p.j.s and robe, but without slippers.We talked for a while, then her mom told her to come in; my friend ignored her. This went on for five minutes before my friend finally went inside. As I was leaving, I heard the sound of a bare hand connecting with a bare bottom, my friend crying, and her mom yelling.  I stayed until I heard my friend's cry get fainter, and fainter, (undoubtably going to her room), before turning to leave.

 
I have to say, as naughty as I was when I was little, I didn't try to get my siblings spanked. Not unless I was getting one too, and I'd try to make sure someone was going down with me. It was hard though because my brothers are so much older than I, that they weren't really spanked anymore. My brother Ryan was pretty close to my age, so if I was caught hitting him or getting violent with him (which was a huge no no in our house), I made sure to scream like he hurt me too. I wasn't going to be the only one getting it. But usually in those cases, we were both to blame, and mom would spank both of us. It would start innocent enough with name calling, but would very quickly escalate. Mom would usually come in midway and say "I don't care who started it, I'll tell you how it's going to end...in tears, and they aren't going to be mine". We would stop for a moment to reflect on that, and she'd leave the room, feeling satisfied that she'd stopped us...but soon we'd be at it worse, then all hell would break loose. She'd come back in with her slipper and use it to point out the door. We'd both be crying and trying to talk our way out of it as she ushered us to our bedrooms. I always got it first because I was younger. She'd spank me, hug me, and leave me crying. Then she'd cut through the Jack and Jill bathroom to spank Ryan. I'd always go in and listen through the door on his side. She'd usually lecture him longer about how he's a boy and shouldn't be hitting girls even if I hit him, and he was older, and threatening to have my dad give him a "talk" about how to treat girls. He'd plead and beg, then she'd spank him, longer than me, and while he jumped around after (I presume, I never actually saw it), she'd say kind words and say, "well, you learned your lesson so I won't have to have that talk with daddy". I was caught a couple of times by the door, like when mom forgot the slipper in my room. And, I was sorry. She'd grab my arm and spank my behind all the way back to my bed. Those spanks were much harsher and had me screaming all over again. My mom hated snoops.

I would pout for quite a long time, and was a drama queen. But once I realized that no one was buying into it, I clung to my mom or dad after they spanked me. More my dad than my mom. I was/am a daddy's girl, so I couldn't stay upset with him. My mom was another thing.


 
The earlier part of my childhood was in Scotland and it was quite a common occurrence for mothers to discuss spanking their children. They would talk about giving, "Jeannie, a right good 'skelpin,'"  or chat their particular technique, all over a cup of tea!

My mother, who was a school teacher, believed, and I would not to this day argue with it, that she had discovered the way to produce the most stinging of smacks. She called it the "butterfly bounce" where the hand, rapidly descending from above her shoulder, upon reaching the bare behind was lifted smartly upwards the moment after it touched the skin. On a number of occasions she demonstrated this to visitors, using whichever one of us was closest to hand at the time. This was, for us, a painless experience upon a clothed behind but was, nevertheless, considerably embarrassing.


 
My dad was a volunteer at church that did the readings. One day he was a reader and I was sitting in the front with my mom and sisters and brother. My siblings and I we were acting up and my dad snapped his fingers and pointed at us while he was sitting at the front part of the church. I remember being extremely embarrassed and knew we were going to get it when we got home. We didnt move for the rest of the service and the car ride home was silent. We got sent to our rooms as soon as we got home. He came in my and my sisters' room first. He was mad and yelling at us about how we should know better. We all got spanked bare over his knee for that one.

 
I was eight years old, and I was throwing a tantrum because we weren't going out to eat. I was crying and begging, but my parents were ignoring me. Then, I got my dad's attention my kicking the driver's side seat, where he was sitting. Both parents glared at me and warned me numerous times to stop my bad behavior. My younger siblings were being good, so why wasn't I?
I was now really angry that I wasn't getting my own way, so I really gave the driver's side seat a violent kick, which created a black scuff mark and a light tear. My dad was furious. He told me that I would be getting a spanking when he came to the next rest area.
By now, I was really having a fit, I kicked the seat over and over again, and now the slight tear was getting larger. My dad didn't bother to wait for the next rest area. Instead, he pulled over at a gas station, and he opened my car door. I tried to plead and remain in place so as not to get spanked. My dad tugged at my arm even harder. "Young lady, if you don't get out of this car right now, I'm going to spank you right here in front of everybody." There were people who were pumping their gas, who nosily stared at me, probably hoping to watch me getting spanked. I didn't want them to see me over my dad's knee, so I decided that for once, I had better obey.
Once I was out of the car, my dad grabbed my arm pretty forcefully and we headed rather quickly inside the gas station. This gas station had a bathroom in the back of the cashier's counter. Without saying a word to me or to anybody else, my dad headed to the bathroom. I'm sure through my tears, the cashier and the other gas station shoppers could figure out what was happening to me.
My dad knocked on the door twice, and when nobody answered, he dragged me inside. He sat down on the toilet seat, and in a flash he hauled me over his knee. My pants and panties were down very quickly. Usually my dad yelled and lectured my bad behavior, but this time he didn't. He wanted to get this spanking over with. We were on a road trip, and I was holding him up. I wasn't able to state my side after I was over my dad's lap. The spanking started immediately. I was hoping it would end as quickly as it began, but that was not the case. It was a very long, hard spanking. My bottom was turning red all too fast. I'll never forget that dim bathroom. It fit my mood with the pain of my spanking. I cried, kicked, and yelled at my dad to stop. He spanked and spanked and spanked. I begged, and pleaded with my father. My dad continued on with my spanking. When I told my dad how sorry I was, my dad's hand tirelessly went on with it's mission.
At first I was very aware that the gas station cashier and other people in the area could hear. I was also embarrassed when I thought of how my mom and my younger siblings were patiently sitting in the car, knowing full well that I was getting a spanking. Then, it came to the point that I didn't care. My tender, red bottom was sore. My dad's firm hand was doing it's job. The spanking was teaching me very well that I would never kick my father's seat while he was driving again. My father only yelled at the very end as he delivered the final spanks, "Don't you ever, ever kick the driver's side seat again! Is that understood?"
I sobbed that I would be good, and that I wouldn't do that again. My dad continued spanking me for a little while longer, and then he said, "If you ever do that again, I'll pull over the car so fast. I don't care where we are, and I don't care who watches! You'll be over my knee with your pants and panties off just like you are right now getting a spanking much harder than this one!" My dad gave me about ten more spanks, and then he pulled me up to my feet. I was bawling, but my dad didn't give me time to settle down.
"If I hear another peep out of you, I'll stop the car and spank you again!" With that I softly sobbed to myself, while my father headed me back to the car.

 
I got more than a few spankings before school...usually because I wouldn't get up or I pretended to be sick so I didn't have to go. Getting spanked before school often meant I was late and I had to go into the office with my mother for an admit to class. I hated this because my face was still red, my eyes were still puffy from crying and it seemed like everyone knew that I had just gotten a spanking.

The worst times though, by far, were in junior high and high school. I felt like I was the only kid my age still getting spanked. I had to undress to shower in PE class and the marks on my rearend and legs from the belt left no doubt that I had gotten a whipping.


 
I hated being called inside. I remember many times getting caught riding my bike beyond the allowed block radius my parents set up. I was only 7 or 8 at the time, but my neighbor crush Jason, and I would go further. When mom or dad (or my brothers) looked out to check on me and found I was not within eye sight, I got the "Elisabeth, put your bike away, say good bye to Jay, and get in here. Now." I knew I was caught. I never ran. I did walk really slowly and would start the tears before I made it inside. Once I got in, the door was closed and I was ceremoniously walked to my room, where I got scolded and spanked. My parents always were upset in those situations because my behavior could have lead to me being hurt or kidnapped, etc. They would lecture me for quite a while after to drill into me the fact that it's stupid to not listen about those things.

My childhood friend Catherine had a mom who didn't spank, but a dad who did. When she was bad, her mom would tell her that when the dad got home she was getting a spanking. She told me she put a book down the back of her pants once, but obviously her dad saw it, laughed, removed it and spanked her anyway. She told me her spankings were nothing in comparison to mine. 4-5 whacks over her pants. That was it. I would never think to do something like this because it seems to futile. I did run and hide in my closet when I was sent to my room to wait for mom or dad to come up. It NEVER worked obviously.


 
My stepdad punished me almost every time, but I remember one time my mom got really angry at me for backtalk and sassing her. We were in the kitchen and she grabbed a fly swatter and started swinging it at me. She didn't care about the target as long as she hit some part of me. That was the most ineffective discipline I ever got because I resented the anger she took out on me. Yeah, I needed a whipping but not like that. My stepdad found out about it as soon as he got home from work and told me that he and my mom had talked it over and that she would wait for him to get home next time. He always used a razor strop in a private place.

 
My parents were very strict, as was my nanny, and bedtime rules were always enforced. My father is, to this day, a kind and patient man and he never spanked me in anger, but he did spank me! When I was about eight, for reasons that are still unclear to me, I decided that I was too old for a bedtime and no matter what they (Daddy, Mommy, and Nanny) did to me, I wasn't going to obey the bedtime rule any longer. I explained my new position to them, which they listened to. I was then told that bedtime was still 8:00 pm with no exceptions. My Father also informed me that he alone would be handling any transgressions--GULP! Scared but determined to see this through, at 8:00 I refused to go to bed. My Father listened to my pleas and calmly explained why little girls needed to be in bed by 8:00 pm, he then went on to say that if I didn't get into my bed immediately I would be forfeiting my bedtime story. The loss of my story made me angry and defiant; I just glared at him. When I refused to take his hand and be led to my bed, he looked at me and said, "sweetie, I don't want to spank you but you've left me no choice." 

He picked me up and carried me over to my bed and stood me in front of him, by this time I was crying because I knew what came next. He spoke to me, gently explaining why he was going to spank me while he lowered my pajama bottoms and put me over his lap. He then opened the drawer of my bedside table and extracted the small paddle that was kept there--and blistered my bottom! When it was over, he put me in bed and rubbed my back until I calmly fell asleep. Always the strong willed child, this scene was repeated over the next three nights! 

On the fourth evening at 8:00 pm my Father looked at me and said, "time for your spanking and then to bed." I hadn't protested, I hadn't even whined...and he was ready to give me a spanking! When I started to cry, he kindly picked me up and said, "wouldn't you rather have a bedtime story?" I squeezed him tightly and nodded my head with my face against his shoulder. I never, ever resisted bedtime again!


 
Words do have a lot of different meanings based on the generation and what side of the pond you are on. I tend to think with the internet so popular that terms on both sides will become the same. I even see Bloke and Guy being used interchangeable now, where as just a few years ago, I had to give an instant thought of to that word.

In my generation, over here, "swats" meant a "series" of single stroke delivered to the bottom. It was never a spanking and that would be too embarrassing. I think most considered a spanking is where the kid would be a bawling little kid with tears and rubbing his bottom. Where swats was more mature and could be taken without tears.

In fact down south, if you had to admit it to friends, it would be better to say you got a whipping instead of a spanking as it sounded more mature.

I'll tell you something funny with word origin in our household. We have three grown daughters and when they were little the oldest one came home saying, "Right knee, left knee, front knee, hind knee."

I think it was her first attempt at a dirty word and she would point to them as she said them. Neither me or my wife used the term heinie or was it really much of a popular word around here. Eventually all our girls were using it as well as us.

"Daddy are you going to spank Dawn's heinie when she gets home?"

"Well if she doesn't get her heinie home pretty soon, she'll be spanked."

Anyway the term worked for the girls in ways they couldn't imagine. When the littlest is standing before you cupping her bottom with tears in her eyes and so sincerely saying, "I don't want you to spank my heinie," it's hard to be a mean ole dad.


 
I remember sitting and watching TV when one of my siblings were going to be spanked. Of course all of us wanted to hear what was going on in the other room so as soon as it started we mentally tuned out the TV. The other parent might have been in the room with us, sometimes discussing why the kid was being spanked but we didn't hear anything but the spanking.

I know with my own kids, once a spanking was given to one of them the rest would be the best behaved little girls you could imagine for days to come. I remember when my wife went to spank our oldest the other two were coloring on the floor in the living room. They had to stop and listen while their mother was scolding their sister in our bedroom. Then she came out with hairbrush in hand and looked pretty wired and said, "Where is that note from her teacher?"

The girls were now sitting up straight and I remember the one pointing to the note on the table like it was a snake. Then when the spanking started the two got off the floor and crawled up next to me on the sofa. We didn't always spank bare but when the unmistakable sounds of a bare bottom hairbrush spanking was taking place the kids listening were even much better behaved and especially attentive to the person that did the spanking.


 
I don’t remember how old I was [when I first got spanked] if I count Mother’s slaps ”spankings”. But it would have been pre school age (seven in my country at the time). I would lean against her thigh and she would use her hand to slap my skirted behind. If I shed a tear (which I probably did - I was a wimp) it was out of defiance rather than real pain. I don’t remember crying for real, though I may have done so when I was quite young, and was actually quite proud of being able to take a “spanking” in silence unlike so many others that I heard getting it.

I got my real spankings (always bare bottom, always from my father and always with a solid wooden stick) from when I was nine years (and five months) till I had turned 13 – probably a total of 8-10.  And silence and tear shedding were history. Now it was wailing and “waterfalls.”

In my case underwear always came down too and I was convinced it hurt more that way but in reality I’m sure it didn’t increase the level of pain. Father’s aim was to achieve a certain amount of (considerable) discomfort and he would have adjusted force and number of strokes according to the cover. After all it was a spanking of a child and not a beating.

Mother never helped or watched. I do remember jumping up before I was allowed up at least on one occasion and was told to bend back over. The threat was that if we got out of place after some strokes they wouldn’t count and Father would start all over again. I don’t think it ever happened. Father wasn’t a bully; instead he would put a foot or hand on the small of your back to help you stay in place. But I clearly remember stretching my arms forward and digging my fingers into the crocheted bedspread to stay in place.


 
After church girls would have to stand by our mothers as they gossiped, while the boys played and fathers chatted. One Sunday I had been spanked for not putting on the dress my mother had laid out for me that morning and Mother proudly told the ladies and the girls about my behaviour and my punishment. I think my face was just as red as my bottom was. It wasn't uncommon for Mothers to do that and I can remember my friend Belinda's mother telling my mother similar information when the two of them were having an afternoon tea.

 
My most memorable spanking was actually while my mom was fixing my hair! I hated when my mom brushed my hair and I always made such a big fuss. One night after my bath my mom was brushing my hair and I was being extra bratty that night, I tried to run away from her becuase I didn't want her to brush my hair. With that my mom grabbed my arm, pulled me back to her, lifted up my nighty and spanked my bare bum about 6 times with the brush. That's the only time I ever got spanked with a hairbrush and I definately was good while my mom brushed my hair after that!

 
One particulary naughty boy once stuck chewing gum into my hair.When I got home my Mother was furious,made me tell her who had done it and marched me round there to show his parents. He was made to apologise (to my Mother not me!) and was then taken back indoors to get his just desserts. Unfortuneately my Mother could not get the chewing gum out of my hair back at home after washing it and she ended up cutting a section off with her pinking shears with me sitting on the bathroom stool - and the same on the other side to even it up. She did a good job - but I was upset about having my hair
cut and I made such a fuss that she put down her scissors, picked up the hairbrush and gave me a good spanking! I can tell you that after that I sat quietly (if uncomfortably!) and let her finish cutting my hair.

 
I remember back in the 1960's we had a local country music station that my mom listened to all the time (actually it was called "country-western" music back then). They had a longtime advertiser which was a lumber yard. Their commericals were the same for many years: a little jingle, with the announcer coming in at the end saying they could serve anyone's lumber needs, even if all they want is a "stick to paddle your kids with". Having a lifelong interest in & fascination for spanking, I've always remembered that commerical. Of course, I doubt that would be broadcast today in these more "politically correct" times.

 
My Mom's thing was the old "you are too old for a spanking when you quit acting like a child."  And her best line ever when I pleaded I was too old for it bare bottom: "It was not your panties that misbehaved."

We were usually spanked with a hairbrush. But Mom did not take it with her. When something happened aways from the house that was serious enough to warrant a spanking it was usually "I owe you a spanking"--which was usually redeemed once we got home.

On time we were in the car and my sister kept repeatedly teasing me. Mom asked Dad to pull in to a rest area. At first she asked to use Dad's belt, then changed her mind and told me to go get a good switch. I did not know what a switch was--and she told me a spanking stick and make it a good one. Of course, at first, I thought I was getting it.

She grabbed my sister by the arm and walked her to the ladies room. I picked out about three sticks, to make sure I got what she wanted--I wasn't gonna mess around on this task.

I took them up to the restroom and Mom selected one. She stripped off the leaves and told me to take them and the unused sticks outside on the way back to the car.

Sis got it good. She was wailing when they came back. Later she showed me her butt--and I was shocked by the welts. She got it on her bare skin (as we were usually spanked--but this was a whole new level). Apparently another woman saw the whole thing--and was approving. Mom and her talked for quite a while out front afterwards, as my sister was sobbing in the backseat.

The switch was placed on the dashboard, and it stayed in the car for a long time. But it was never used again


 
My parents talked of the unpleasant event like this: "Your bottom is going to attend a comedy young lady". It wasn't funny at all though; A tragedy would have been a more precise paraphrase.

 
My parents once used a behavior chart when I was about 7 or 8. It was a check mark system if I got three checkmarks then I got spanked. I remember sitting in church once I don't remember what I was doing but my Dad suddenly took a pen a put two checks on the bulliten. I already had one so as soon I got home two checks were put on my chart, my Dad's belt came off, my pants went down, and across the bed I went.

 
The most memorable, painful and most deserved spanking I received was when my brother and I made up a story that there was a man in the local park area we used to play in, who had a gun. We were playing with other children and one girl ran off into a factory and told the workers that there was a man there with a gun and he had shot one of us.
While we were walking home with several other of our playmates we saw at least 12 police cars and an the paramedics they pulled up next to us. I burst into tears and told them what had happened. We were driven to the police station and our parents had to collect us.
We were waiting forever in our bedrooms when I heard the commotion in my brother's room, I was in tears when I heard him being spanked and he was being spanked so soundly. Then it was my turn, Mom came in and she just sat on my bed and told me to get over her knee.
Mom had her hairbrush in her hand and she had this look that if I protested I was in alot of trouble, so I bent over her knee
I was spanked soundly for five minutes or so, over my panties and upper thighs, I was a howling mess and spent almost a week eating meals with a cushion under my bottom. During my spanking Mom had to pin my arm behind my back and clamp me between her legs to keep me steady and I was past tears when she finally stopped.
The next morning Dad drove my brother and I to the police station to make an apology for the commotion we had caused. My bottom was still quite red when I made my peace, and we were banished to our bedrooms each afternoon after school for two weeks and no desert after dinner.

 
Mum's spankings were generally real stingers and like other mothers mentioned here she was an enthusiastic spanker either with her hand or the dreaded ruler but I guess dad's hurt more he generally spanked with his hand or slipper and that slipper seemed to cover an awful lot of bottom in one swat plus dads spankings werent that often so it was a major occasion to be put across his knee

Mother often gave warning spankings which would involve her spinning me round with one hand holding my arm the other giving a very quick spanking.  This was often done in front of my dad or brothers and was given with the threat of "now do you want to go over my knee young lady?"  Dad only once made me bend over in the hands on knees position.  I was being cheeky in front of the family.  Dad decided that enough was enough and ordered me to bend over...  I expected just a couple of smacks but ended up with a very sound slippering.  His hand on my back stopped me getting up...  It only happened to me once but I was certainly careful about cheeking in front of everyone after that!

Mother generally spanked me but sometimes I crossed the line and she felt that maybe I would pay more attention to one of Dad's spankings. I wasn't a deliberately naughty child I just had this knack of finding mischief and I think Mother felt that sometimes her spankings were water off a duck's back.  (Believe me they werent!)  Dad wasnt overly strict but his spankings were generally noteable... If I ever got the 'wait til your father hears about this young lady' I knew I was in for a memorable session over his knee.


 
My mother spanked bare bottomed, while Daddy almost never did. I never questioned it at the time, but in retrospect wonder why that was. As my mother is no longer alive, I can't ask her and Daddy doesn't know. 

I don't remember spankings from Mommy hurting more or being more severe than Daddy's, other than my bottom was bared by one and not the other.

My mother died when I was young and I don't know if she would always have bared my bottom to spank or not. I don't know for sure but I suspect it might have been how she was spanked and therefore just how she felt a spanking should be given. It didn't really sting any more than Daddy spanking on my panties, and she didn't give harsher spankings (more or with more force) than Daddy did, so I don't know that it was to make it hurt more. Anything is possible though.

Daddy and I could always talk about my spankings. We always had a very open relationship. The one thing he never did was talk about them to anyone else. He always said that my discipline was just between us, though I know he did discuss it with my uncle (his brother) when I wasn't around. As my uncle had two girls about my age, they often discussed parenting matters so it wasn't a big deal. To this day he won't openly mention to anyone, including my husband, that he spanked me. He will make vague references to it, but not come right out and say it.

My cousins and I did and still do discuss how we were spanked. Now that we are all parents ourselves, it has taken on a different context. My husband knows many of my childhood escapades and we have discussed his as well.


 
In our house, the spanking implement was a home-made leather strap that had been cut into about 5 or 6 thin strips and attached to a short cut-off broom handle. This very discipline looking implement was kept draped over the top of the kitchen door where it was always on display and always within easy reach whenever it's use was called upon to spank either me or my brother or sister. It stung like the dickens and we always dreaded the moment it was taken down to be used.

 
I was at school in England in the fifties and sixties, and for my first three years at school there was no corporal punishment. But then at the age of seven we moved up to the junior school, and things changed. Official punishments for serious offences weren't very frequent, and they were given in the headmistress' office. Boys would get the cane and, very occasionally, girls would get the slipper. But we weren't really aware of that (apart from those on the receiving end, of course). What we did notice were the classroom punishments, and in our first term of junior school we had a particularly strict teacher. She was a woman from New Zealand, and any boy who was even slightly disobedient would be called out to the front of the class and told to bend over a chair to get a whack on his bottom with the slipper. I remember we always tried to see if the boy was starting to cry when he went back to his desk.

But the reason for my post is that this woman was the one teacher during my schooldays who punished a girl in public, and certainly the boys found the event hugely entertaining. The girl in question was spotted talking to her neighbour, and was called out to the front of the class. You could hear a penny drop as everyone wondered if she was going to get the slipper. When she was told to bend over, one of the boys couldn't contain himself and muttered "Cor!", only to be told that he'd get the same if he didn't watch out. But there was more ceremony to come. The girl's position wasn't right, and she was told to bend over more; when this still wasn't enough, she was gently moved into the correct position. And then, to crown it all, the teacher pushed the girl's skirt up to reveal a tightly-stretched pair of navy-blue knickers

As other posts have said, the sight of a girl's knickers in those days wasn't particularly rare, as it was standard for games lessons. But the performance here made this something else, and despite the warning there were several more expressions of "Cor!" Then we all watched, captivated, as the slipper crashed down on the girl's bottom. And yes, there were tears in her eyes when she walked back to her desk. So, arousing as well as entertaining? For some of the 7/8-year-old boys, I suspect yes.


 
I was the youngest and also the only girl, and yes, I am pretty sure I was spanked more than all of my brothers, probably put together! I think there were several reasons for this.

Being the only girl and the baby of the family, to a certain extent, I was spoiled rotten, especially by my grandparents and my lovely brothers, and this meant that my behaviour when I didn't get my own way was pretty bad! I was an audacious kid and used to really push my luck, which was dumb when you think how much experience of child-rearing my parents had had by then. Also I think that having brought up all the boys, my parents had a slightly shorter fuse, and knew what worked best on one of their kids when she was really out of line! I do remember getting spanked once with the youngest of the boys, he got it first, and I listened - it was hard not to - and counted the number of spanks he got - twelve. When Dad came down to my room to spank me, I got several more spanks (probably because I was making more of a fuss about being spanked at all, I always did!) than he did. Several minutes later, when I was still howling about the unfairness of it all, my dad came back and told me to calm down now, quite gently, and I glared at him and told him how mean he was for spanking me more than my brother. Surprise, surprise, I ended up back over his knee and got several more spanks! I was furious about that one!

I wasn't ever spanked by friends' parents, but I do remember my mother telling a friend's mother that if I was disobedient or difficult while I was in her charge, that she had my mother's full permission and blessing to spank me. I was furiously embarrassed, hearing her say that!   BUT - as it happened, there was some trouble while I was staying over at their house, the usual sleepover fights, quarrels and rowdiness that comes with being allowed to stay up too late eating chocolate, and the following day, my mother, coming to take me back home asked if there had been any trouble. My friend's mother (I called her Auntie Ruth) was rather embarrassed but she admitted that there had been. My mother then said she hoped I had been punished for it, but Auntie Ruth said no, she had felt sorry for me as I hadn't done anything her twin girls hadn't done and she hadn't spanked them, either. I could tell my mother wasn't all that impressed with this answer, and so when we got home, I got spanked. I probably deserved it, but I was furious that I had been spanked when the other two hadn't.

None of my brothers ever spanked me - it just wasn't allowed, although I'm sure they probably wanted to on occasion. And I remember the eldest did threaten to once. I didn't take it seriously as a threat because we both knew that our parents would never allow it - they were the only ones in our house who were allowed to spank - although other adult relatives had that authority as well - I remember being spanked by my uncle and also by my grandparents a couple of times.

The boys were usually all warmly sympathetic when I was spanked, even if what I was spanked for was some crime I had committed against them. I remember one time though when I had been spanked and one of them came to see me in my room and said he was glad I had been spanked for being such a pain in the neck - what I remember was that devastated me even more than the spanking had. I was terribly upset that he said that and I heard the others giving him a hard time for having been "mean" to me - I did say, most of the time, I was their pet - and he came to apologise for having said it. I had it pretty good from my brothers - they were/are great!

I was spanked as soon as I got home from school only once. I knew it was coming, too! I was nine years old and going through a real smart-mouth phase, and my problem was I never knew when enough was enough. We had a class teacher who was still quite new to us, and she liked me, but one day I went too far. My school did not use CP - I don't know if it ever did, but it was against the law by then anyway - she gave me an after-school detention for the following day, and some lines to write, but she also said she would be phoning my mother. I must have gone white then, because I knew what that would mean. Later on in the day, she did tell me she had called home and that my mother was not at all happy with me. I think I started crying right then.

My school was close enough to walk home from, I usually walked with a few other kids who were going the same way, and if we went slowly enough, quite often, the boys, my brothers, who had to get a bus to their school, might be home before me. This was my one hope of salvation, because a few times, they were able to beg me out of a spanking. That day, I walked as slowly as I could, but of course, eventually I got home. My best friend, who lived further down the same street, Kate, guessed what I was feeling, but she couldn't give me any hope, either. When I did get home, my mother opened the door. We all had our own front door keys, but mine was usually at the bottom of my school bag, and I usually knocked out of laziness, and waited for someone to let me in. Not that day. I was still searching for it when she opened the door, and pulled me inside. I could see the boys' jackets and bags in the hall, but they were nowhere around - they knew what was coming and had gone upstairs. My mother pulled me into the living room - this was unusual because I was usually spanked upstairs in my own room or in my parents' room. But the first thing I saw in the living room was the hairbrush on the table. My mother was absolutely furious that a teacher had had to call home about me, and that was all she said before she put me over her knee. She never had any trouble lowering my underwear however much I was wriggling, and then of course she spanked me with the hairbrush. It was one of the most severe spankings she ever gave me, and one of the longer ones.

I suppose it worked like a charm though, I never mouthed off to a teacher or any other adult after that!


 
Went to a neighbor's house to give her some things she wanted to borrow. As I walked up on the porch and to the door I saw her seated on a kitchen chair.  Her daughter 10 was over her lap, pants and panties at her ankles, getting the hairbrush. I quickly turned and left and came back about 15 minutes later. Went in the house and talked with her, gave her the things. The kitchen chair had been pushed in and things looked normal except the hairbrush was still on the counter.

I think it would have been to embarrassing for anyone to knock during the spanking. Especially for the10 year old.


 
My most memorable spanking was for teasing my sister for being a bedwetter. I had been teasing her and teasing her calling her Betsy Wetsy and and pee pee pants and things of that nature. She was 6 and I was 8 and mom would put her into nightime diapers and plastic pants to protect he bedding. I had been warned about teasing and finally this one evening after mom had put the diapers and plastic pants on her I was teasing her I would snap the elastic of the plastic pants waistband and taunt baby pant baby pants. Finally mom had enough and said to me that's it your getting a spanking and she pulled out a chair from the desk in the den and sat down and called me to her side and pulled down my pants and panties, took me over her lap and gave me a good spanking and she let my sister watch.

 
My skirts would be turned up in back, and if it was my mother, she would take down my panties also. Then it would begin. The first slap would hurt, but not too badly, and I would think that maybe I could stand this. But before the first slap finished hurting, the second slap came and hurt more than the first, and then came the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, seventh...

Just when I started to cope with my bottom stinging more than it had a moment ago, another slap would come and my behind would sting even more than that, until I was crying hard because it really HURT.

After a hand spanking was over, my sting would fade quickly. I would cry and rub my bottom for a minute or two, but after the first minute I was mostly crying from needing my emotional release, instead of from me being in very much pain still. It never hurt to sit down after a hand spanking. Actually the pressure on my bottom was comforting. My bottom would be pink, but that went away in a few hours or a day.


 
Though I'm not sure I thought about it at the time, looking back at it, I'm sure the nun who taught our second grade class probably did enjoy spanking. She spanked much more often than our first or third grade teacher nun did giving at least a few swats for things that would have only gotten you scolded or the ruler on your palm in the other classes. I'd say barely a day went by without one student being taken to the back of the room for a spanking.

And if you were stupid enough to get into more serious trouble or just about any trouble close to recess time or the end of the day it was worse. I'll bet once or twice a week some boy (usually -- though girls weren't exempt) was kept in from recess or after school to be spanked. And these were delivered bare bottom... This was back in the early 50s.


 
One Saturday, I talked back to both my mom and dad and got sent to my room. I muttered something under my breath, went to my room, and slammed the door. Minutes later, there was my dad brandishing the ping-pong paddle. He ordered me to lay on the bed for the paddling, and I refused. Dad grabbed my wrist and threw me face down on the bed. Then, he began swatting me with the paddle as hard as he could. I was fully clothed, but my briefs, tucked in tee-shirt, and tight Levis offered little in the way of padding. 

All the while, Dad was yelling at me, "Don't you EVER do that again! Do you hear me?" Through my sobs,I said,"Yes!" over and over, but to no avail.

After about 25 paddle swats,Dad threw the paddle down and began spanking me with his hand. Man, he hit harder with his hand than the paddle! By now, he had pulled me so that my legs dangled off the side of the bed and my feet touched the floor.

After several spanks, he picked up the paddle and gave me several more swats, ignoring my shouts that he stop. Finally, he said something about how he hoped that I had learned my lesson. While rubbing my sore backside, I assured him that I had. The pain of that lesson stayed with me for the rest of the day.


 
Before moving to KY when I was 4 we lived in PA. The apartment we lived in was part of the off-base housing for the Airbase where my father was stationed. Each building had a 12'x15' storage/tool shed attached. My brother and I used to play in there with the other kids who lived around us. Mostly with two girls who were our exact ages named Toni and Tammy.  There was an old mattress laying on the floor and we would play on it. One day we were playing house and got caught by their mother who was upset seeing both myself and her younger daughter bare bottom up over my brother and the older girl's lap. She was preparing to give her daughters a very real bare bottom spanking when my mother intervened telling her since we all normally got spanked that way (bare bottom) it's only natural that if we were playing house the spankings would be done the same way (thanks mom). So Toni and Tammy got out of that spanking. But their mom suggested we play some other games instead. That was far from the last time we played spanking games with those two girls. I did see on occasion a couple of kids who were playing outside being taken into one of those toolsheds either by one parent or another. Then after the door was closed, hearing the sounds of a spanking in progress.

After moving to Kentucky, my dad bought one of those aluminum storage sheds, and even though my brother, sister and I were never "taken to the shed" for our spankings. Both my sister and I both used it for spanking games with our friends.


 
When I was 8 and my sister was 7 my grandmother took us to church and being kids we started messing around and my grandmother gave us that look and told us to stop but we did not listen. So on the drive home she told us we were going to be taught a lesson about misbehaving in God's house as she called it. So as soon as we walked in the door she took my sister by the arm to a chair then turned her over her knee flipped up the dress and pulled down the panties and whacked hard and fast for a minute. Then I got the same.

 
On Saturday my son, who is 7 yrs old, came in for lunch 1 hr late and was told by my wife that he was grounded and after she had finished her lunch, she was going to take him into the lounge and spank him on his bare bottom.  He turned round and without missing a beat said `just think mummy how good you will feel if you don't spank me!`

20 minutes later my wife said she felt fine after she had spanked his bare bottom over her knee - don't think he did


 
I was very curious about my friends' spankings. I only got spanked once when I was about 5 and was threatened after that, but never got another one. The family across the street had two daughters who I was friendly with and they were spanked quite a bit, belt or wooden spoon on their bare bottoms. I loved hearing about their spankings and frequently asked about them.

Once, I was going to knock on the door and see if they wanted to play, but as I approached the screen door (it was summer and only the screen door was in place), I heard my friend crying and could partially see her across her mom's lap, getting the wooden spoon on her bare butt. I could also clearly hear the sound of the wooden spoon as it connected with her bottom. I felt kind of bad for my friend, but couldn't help linger and listen before taking off.

Another time I was over playing and the older sister did something to get into trouble. I saw her dad pull her over his knees and begin taking her pants down while he ordered us out of the room. She was probably 10 or 11 at the time. We could overhear the spanking and crying from my friend's room. She got the belt that day, on the bare as spankings were always given in that household.


 
My father tells a story that when I was around five years old, he sent me to my room and told me to wait there for him to come up and spank me for something I had done.

He says that when he came into my room a few minutes later, I was kneeling beside my bed praying hard. While he lifted me across his lap and tucked up my skirt in back, he says I loudly protested that God had just forgiven me for being naughty and so God had just told me I didn't need to be spanked!

Daddy replied that God had indeed forgiven me. But that God just told HIM that I DID need to be spanked. 

And Daddy then carried out God's wish.


 
My mother had usually used the wooden spoon to spank me. After a silly prank I was awaiting a spanking. Because of that I had hidden all the wooden spoons in the house.

Mother told me that I would get a spanking immediately and asked for a spoon. I smiled at her, that made her more angry. Quite suddenly she took me over her knee.

I was awaiting a soft hand spanking and relaxed, but suddenly my bottom burned. She had removed her house sandals and spanked me with them.

These were flat wooden sandals with a very flat rubber sole. The flat rubbersole over the hard wood increased the pain on my backside extremly. After only five strokes I counldn't stand it anymore and I tried to protect my hiney with my hand. After a short warning she hit the sole of the sandal on my fingers. It hurt a bit, but I didn't remove my fingers. Then she flipped the sandal and slammed the sharp-edged wooden foodbed on my fingers. In less than a second my fingers were in my mouth, tears were in my eyes and I was screaming. In the meantime she was still spanking my bottom with the rubbersole again.

Since that time these sandals were her prefered spanking tool. The disadvantage for me was that I couldn't hide something that was always on my mothers feet. In later times she called the knock for removing my fingers from my bottom "backhand".


 
One of the 7 grandchildren of my sis misbehaved badly during the marriage of one of her aunts. There were a dozen preschoolers or early schoolers in the church, who were all very nice, so she stood out. Her father took her out of the Church. After a few minutes she was brought back, hiccuping and with a red face and red eyes, her one hand on her bottom. She was an angel for the rest of the service.

Her dad was a bit annoyed, but he got congratulated by everybody. Naughty children sometimes have to feel it.


 
There were two small ditches at the side the road, with little bridges. I was seven, jumped the ditch, but fell in it. These ditches were then open sewers. I stank to high heaven.

Mother was furious. I was not allowed in the house, I had first to undress and to wash me in a tub in the frontyard. When the worst filth was from me, she came with a second tub warm water. I had kept my underpants on - hey, all the neighbours were looking and laughing - but mother stripped all off and sponged me further off.
The more they laughed, the more angry I became, the more everybody laughed. Being washed like a baby in a tile in the frontyard was really too much, so I turned my anger to mother.

I treated her on names I happily forgot, but which you shouldn't use, certainly not in that condition and in the presence of your father. He was red of laughing, but abruptly stopped lauging and became more red, not of laughing. Showing disrespect to your mother had never been a good idea, but showing disrespect to your mother in public was a capital crime.

So within seconds I landed over his knee for one of the better spankings of my young life, in public.

Before age 8, I don't remember many, but that might be due to selective memory. Between age 9 to 14, something around ten - two or three a year till age 11, one or two a year between 12 and 14. The last one was at age 14.

Under age 9, it was with the bare hand, over, it was with the jokari-paddle. At age 14, I got the switch (and that was the last corporal punishment). The average punishment was between twenty or thirty strokes. My father did certainly not hit very hard - he was a big, strong man but the light bruises disappeared soon (I bruise very easily, my sis would have no bruise at all) - but hard enough to "teach a good lesson". You had to cry and squirm to show it hurted - not too little (stubborn - harder smacks till you cried) or not too much (play-acting - harder smacks till you stopped).


 
I am European... My dad was British, my mother French, we lived in Germany and moved to Belgium

In my country, most parents gladly admit they spank their young children.

As a little schoolgirl (the first three years of primary school, 6, 7 and 8), mama spanked me over her lap, sometimes on the underpants, mostly on my bare bottom. When I got older, I got the child whip, one lash over my thigh. I had to lift my skirt, and then mother would give me a quick but burning lash. The "child whip" sounds a bit medieval, ours was a small whip with 14 little leather like shoelaces. Except being very painful, it does no harm.

When I had done something very bad, like stealing or lying, or at secondary school, I got spanked with the martinet. I had to undo my underpants and bend over the stool, she lifted my skirt, grabbed me by it and whipped my seat and thighs until she thought I had had enough. After the first lashes have "enlivened" your skin, it feels as being hit by redhot copper wire (note that if you take the stoics, you won't take me). I suppose the pain is very superficial: the worst burning disappears over minutes. It will smart unpleasantly for a few hours, but after a good night sleep, you feel and see little of it.

The whole exercise took rarely more than half a minute. Something else than "it hurts, IT HURTS, IT HUHUHUHURTS. Ought I to cry harder or not so hard to make her stop." was not on my mind. Reflection immediately after considered my mother the worst of all tyrants. Maybe some days later I had to admit grudgingly that I was not free of all blame.

My poor Teddy bear got spanked when he was naughty since my first memories. Off course, he got spanked with a lot of love and sweet feelings. They threw him away when I was twelve, as it was considered too childish. I still hate my mother for it.

[Once] my mother had given me some extra exercises, as my French tests were poor again. I said I didn’t want to do them, but my mother answered that “wanting” didn’t live in her house. I got upset and said “If you had done some studies yourself, you knew you mustn’t force me to study as it will create aversion.”  That hurt, and I knew it. Mother was the smartest girl of her class, but had to leave school at eleven to help in the big household and the farm. Mother knew I knew it. Seconds later I was pantyless over the stool while the child whip (officially a clothes duster with 14 leather tongues, practically only used for child punishment) was licking my bottom, powered by an angry arm. After five or six stinging strokes – the ends sting like wasps – I howled “you can force me, you can force me, I will do my best.”


 
I went to a Boarding school (girls only), but I didn't live there because my home was only 30 minutes away, so my mom or someone, would drive me and pick me up each day. They had corporal punishment, seeing as it was a private school and didn't have to follow state guidelines. I did receive the "paddle" a couple of times, but for the most part, once I hit high school, I behaved myself and spent my time in class, paying close attention and taking good notes. I rarely stepped out of line there...I loved my teachers and wanted to be friends with them, rather than an annoying student. And please note, the couple of spankings I did get were across my skirt, nothing else. And they still stung and left me in tears.

 
The martinet leaves small red lines. After a beating, my bottom looked like after a medieval whipping with the cat'o nine tails. After one night, maybe a few lines were still faintly visible over my thighs (and that was more the paranoia of "everybody sees I have been spanked", I suppose).  I thought the redness was parallel to the pain. I didn't consider myself as very sensitive to pain, but a spanking hurt too badly and made me cry, of which I was a bit ashamed (and my brothers would tease me). But I thought that a smack on a red buttock hurt twice as badly, and after a few smacks, my buttocks seemed to shine red light.

As a child, I needed my mother to keep me on my toes. Now, I would get psychiatric drugs as a child. Is that better? The martinet hurt my bottom, but didn't change my soul.

A martinet is called a "child whip", but its leather tongues are light. The dreaded sting is caused by the scratching tongues over the skin, not by its impact. Even underpants would take away most of the dreaded sting (why it is used over the thighs if the underpants are left in place).

When I got older, it was obviously very humiliating for a girl, to have her bottom bared for the martinet. It rubbed it in: you are still my naughty little child, and you have to obey.


 
I, together with some other girls, had been quite mean to one of the girls in our class. She told her parents and they called my parents who got really upset and asked them to come over together with their daughter so I could apologze to her.
Well, they came and I was extremely embarrassed about the situation and I wasn't able to say a word. Then my dad grabbed me and pulled me to the sofa where he sat down and pulled me over his knees, pulled up my skirt, pulled down my panties and started to spank me very hard and very long in front of that girl and her parents. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment! I was forced to say "I'm sorry" to this girl. I never was mean to her again!!!!!!

 
When I was being spanked, like many others, it seemed like I got hit a hundred times. My mom has sworn she only smacked us a few times (smacks, not number of occasions). I think she's delusional, but it's probably somewhere in the middle. I know for a fact dad only gave you a dozen smacks all the time. It didn't matter your age, gender, what you did wrong, what he used (hand or paddle), it was always the same. Over his knee, pants always stayed up (or skirts down) and spank after spank, only 12 times. They were mild, but stung badly afterwards. My mom definitely whacked my butt more times than 12...I don't care what she says... And in terms of how many a month, I got spanked on an almost weekly basis by my mom from the ages of 5-8. Dad, maybe 4 times a year my whole life (5-12yrs old). When I turned 8, my behavior improved to where mom only spanked me twice a month if that, until I was 10 and developed a mouth...then it was back to weekly. I know it sounds a lot, and I think it is too, but my mom pretty much used spankings as her MAIN correction, and I'll be honest, I misbehaved on a daily basis. Badly enough to be spanked, at least 1 time a week. I was let off many a times I think...I could be a little snot when I wanted to be one:)

During a spanking, I wasn't talked to at all. My parents spanked very quietly. Before I was given the usual scolding for my behavior, and was given an explanation to why what I'd done was serious enough that I needed to be spanked to learn a lesson. Immediately before going over the knee, I was reminded that if I ever did whatever I'd done wrong again, I could expect the same punishment all over again. Perhaps more!

My mom and dad always spanked us, while they sat on our beds, so they'd prop their left knee to the side, place you over their left thigh and your upper body would rest on your bed. I'm sure they had to place their other leg over my ankles to prevent me from kicking them in the shins. Also, their body would turn ever so slighlty to the side, preventing my hands from grabbing anything but their shirt. When my brothers spanked me, it was almost always the same way. A couple of times when they sat on a chair, I was placed across their "lap". This was also the way my grandma spanked me everytime. Across her lap. I MUCH preferred over the thigh, lying on the bed. You could cry into the quilt, and punch and grab as much blanket as you wanted. I never could control my hands when I was across a lap, and I know my grandma spanked my butt harder for reaching back.

My grandma (my mom's mother) who was a bit sterner (some might say meaner), would almost tease us while she spanked. She'd say things like, "well, you knew what would happen when you..." or "now who's the big girl who...lying here getting her bum smacked and crying" and the ones I hated most "well, you knew I'd get my slipper and whack you if you didn't listen to me" or WORSE even "oh come on, when your mum was your age, I would have pulled her over my leg and caned her bare bum for this. You're lucky". LUCKY, I don't think so. She did this to the boys too. We all hated it...and we really hated hearing her do it to the other one.

When I got spanked by a teacher (when I was in elementary school, ages 5-9), it was always when the other students were out of the room. You were held back during recess and spanked by the teacher across her knee with her hand or a small paddle. Afterwards, you were sent to sit at your desk with your head down. (A shaming sort of punishment I think). I would put my forhead against the desk and cry quietly (though hard) and watch my tears fall from my eyes to my knees (My head was at the very end of the desk so my tears didn't hit the wood). I NEVER could take a spanking without crying - hard. Even the times when mom (or dad or whomever) smacked the seat of my pants, once, for something I did wrong, I cried quietly somewhere where no one could see me... I wasn't brave at all.


 
We always got corner time after a spanking. The spanking stool that had served for our punishment was then used to kneel on in the corner, arms neatly folded, to think over your misdeeds. As a young girl, I was very thin, so my knees were hurting soon.

But the "psychological" part was worse, much worse. The coats hung there. You kneeled there like a baby with your nose in the coats. Everybody who came in could see you were punished. Your skirts were covering your modesty, but you were very much aware of your hurting buttocks. And my older brothers teased me silly. If they were not older and a lot stronger, I would have murdered them.

Particularly as a young teenager, I loathed the corner more than the spanking. When I was 11 or so, the parish priest came in for preparation for the Holy Communion while I was kneeling in the corner, likely with a face as red as a tomato. My mother apologised, but the pastor said: "No need to apologise. You are doing only your duty. Children sometimes need to feel it." I could have died of shame, particularly as I was not a child, but 11 2/3 year.


 
I never tried to see a spanking but I did hear one. The neighbor cut a switch from a big maple tree in the alley behind his garage and hauled his daughter into the garage for a session. She was one year younger than me so I guess she was about 10 or 11 then. She was screaming and hollering while he was bellowing in a deep voice. I had been playing very close to the garage but when all that commotion began I ran in our house and stayed there. I didn't want to get blamed for anything. A few days later I saw a few red marks on her legs from some of the swats. I could hardly imagine what her backside looked like.

 
Parental warnings (some not so easy to translate from my mother tongue)
- I think your bottom is cold. If you want me to, I will heat it 
- I'll turn over the pot and heat it
- This ends with red (or) hot buttocks in the corner
- If you need further help with stripping off your pants, tell me, I can help.
- If your ears can't hear it, your buttocks have to feel it

 
We had a family of ten children living next to us at one of our houses. They had a large backyard that was bordered on the opposite side to us on a hillside with some scrub and a few large trees. The friends of the kids often played there and some times there would seem to be a whole army of children playing in the yard and on the hillside.

Their mother a large and formidable lady would keep an eye on the activities from her kitchen window and would quickly appear if there were any sign of dissent or misbehaviour. My parents recall a time when 3 or 4 of the boys began to quarrel and fight. The mother appeared on the top back step arms akimbo with a strap held in one hand.

“ Fight you little beggars,” she shouted, “ and I’ll belt the winner!”

The fight finished as quickly as it began and the combatants dissolved into the distance.

She did appear from time to time with the strap and order one or another of her children inside for a dose of it, quite often encouraged by a whack or two as they went in. One summer holidays one of her daughters, aged between 11 and 12 must have been going through a rebellious stage and was ordered inside at very regular intervals. On one occasion, when we were playing in our own back yard my sister had the idea of eavesdropping on the whacking and suggested we go along the edge of our high picket fence close to the bedroom that the girl shared with two other sisters.

Having done this once we became quite fascinated by the sounds coming through the fence and repeated this on a number of occasions.

In our family being whacked was a fairly restrained if not irregular event. We took our punishment with out too much fuss and it was quickly and effectively executed without very little or no protest.

Next-door was quite the opposite. There was noisy scolding right through to the bedroom, much defiant argument and raised voices. My sister and I were always surprised at the level of answering back that we would never imagine doing. There was refusal to remove underwear and to lie over the bed. The volume would increase and the threats would escalate. Eventually the daughter would stop arguing and then start to plead. The pleading would increase, punctuated by yells of pain as each stroke of the strap connected. Between each whack her mother would lecture about what would happen in future if the behaviour persisted or command her daughter to turn back over. “ I’ve not finished with you yet!” After between 8 to 10 smacks, (my sister and I would breathlessly count each one), the daughter would be left subdued and her mother would leave breathlessly leave telling he that she would stay there till “supper time” or whatever the next meal might be.


 
My parents didn't care that spanking was banned in Sweden. For many years they told me that spanking was allowed but other kinds of 'beating' was prohibited. I am surprised that they got away with it because I'm sure that some neighbours must have known what was going on.

Regarding the birching, the birch usually was put together with a few switches (maybe 6-8) from a birch or a willow or what was available. It was used very rare but I think that no child (or teenager which I was when birching was used) ever deserve a spanking with the birch. The stinging from it can't be described. Even when I was 16 I howled my head off already at the first stroke and try to imagine how I and my sister sounded after 10-15 of those.

Sometimes we were put over the knees but sometimes we also had to bend over a table. Usually my dad grabbed my hands while mom used the birch with full force.

Actually I think that spanking, even in the teens, may be an appropriate punishment but the birch should never ever be used. Being spanked with hands only on the bare stings quite sufficient I think.


 
One time that does stick in my mind as being extremely embarrassing was a conversation between my mother and my third grade teacher at an open house night. She had earlier notified my mother about some misbehavior I'd gotten up to.  When they actually met my mother brought it up again and let the teacher know in no uncertain terms that I'd been soundly spanked for it. The teacher seemed very approving of that, too. Not only was that embarrassing enough, but there were other parents and kids waiting to talk to her, and I was sure that they had all overheard everything. I was mortified and definitely left the room with a red face.

When I was about eleven years old or so, and my mother had already switched over to using a paddle instead of her hand on me, I was promised a spanking for something or other and sent to my room to wait for it. Needless to say, I was nervous, and the longer I waited the worse it seemed, although in reality it was probably no more than twenty minutes. Anyway, I could not get my mind off my impending fate, which was assuming epic proprtions in my mind by then. So I hit upon the idea of folding up pieces of paper and stuffing them down the back of my underwear to try to lessen the sting of the paddle. I used pages torn out of a magazine. If I had used newspaper, I might have even gotten away with it...

As it was, when Mom came up with the paddle I bent over the bed as usual and held my breath, hoping that I'd successfuly pulled it off. And when the paddle landed the first time, it actually seemed to be working - it seemed to hurt only half as much. But after the second one, the crinkling sound of that glossy paper gave me away.

Surprisingly, my mother wasn't really that mad. She just laughed and said "Nice try, but get rid of it." So I had to remove the paper and bend over again so we could start over, but if anything I think it may have even made her go a little lenient on me that time. But all the same, I knew better than to push my luck and never tried that again.


 
One of my neighbor's daughters and one of her friends decided to cut class.   As a result they were supposed to get paddled by the principal.    So according to what I was told, the girl and her friend decided to not only try wearing extra underwear but actually put newspaper between the layers of underwear, and their jeans. Well according to what I was told they got their "licks" (three each) and it still hurt, but not as bad as it would have. However when the girl's father found out about the little deception he decided she needed a little more punishment and gave her about a dozen more with a belt on her bare bottom.

 
Several years ago a friend recounted her experience in a Florida school. She and her sister got into a fight with some other students. Everyone was caught and found equally responsible although my friend insisted that the other girls started it. The sentence was a paddling to be administered the next day.

She and her sister decided to pile on the panties. In telling the story she said they added nine extra pairs for a total of ten layers. I find this hard to believe but what she said next made sense. She and the sister went to the office, bent over and received the first lick. Everyone involved, the Assistant Principal and the witnesses said that "It didn't sound right."

Obviously the sound was deeply muffled by all the layers of cotton. My friend and her sister had to confess to the extra panties and were promptly escorted to a bathroom where they were required to change into "appropriate" attire. I don't think they got any extra licks but she said there was no comparison between the real thing and the padded ones.


 
When I was growing up my brother and I usually had to get the hairbrush. Mom kept it in her top right dresser drawer - oh, I remember that drawer so well I can see it now - and I made the trip often. I remember opening the drawer slowly, hoping that the thing had disappeared since my last spanking. It never had. It was always there mocking me as I slid open the drawer. Memories.

 
While I can see that I deserved what happened to me (my spankings), as a Mom, I will never do that. I will have other options of corrections going into motherhood. But, yes, I can definitely see how wrong I was, and why I would be spanked. What's really interesting to me, is that my brothers who spanked me on occasion all are against it now and would never spank their kids. In fact, I remember 1 of my brothers actually having a talk with me when I was young, where he promised he'd never spank me again. He had become a father and I was playing with his son (my nephew). I misbehaved (as did my nephew) and he spanked me for it. He didn't spank his son. I was really upset about it and told him so. He immediately saw the hypocrisy and promised he'd never spank me again - and he didn't. I have NEVER spanked anyone, so I can see how I'll be able to never do it as a parent, but my brothers that did spank me when they were left in charge, I wonder how they could change so quickly as fathers, but didn't see that when they corrected me. I felt very bad about that for a long time when I was a teenager (way past the age that they would spank me) when they started having families. But I've accepted it now...I can't really talk to them about it, so I've just moved on. But it is something to chew on...I'm curious what others think about that change they made, and if you can understand it. I've always been anti-spanking, but clearly they weren't.

 
In front of the babysitter, my mother asked me if I was told to go to bed, and as soon as I answered yes, she grabbed my arm. Together, my mom we proceeded to head to the living room couch, where my mother flipped me over her lap.

I was so humiliated. My mother was actually going to spank me right in front of the babysitter! I couldn't believe it. Then, to make matters worse, my mother pulled my pajama bottoms and panties down to my knees. I didn't protest because I was so embarrassed, but after my mother began to spank me, I was bawling.

My mother didn't say a word to me. She focused on spanking my bottom as hard and as fast as she could. As my mother spanked, I kicked, squirmed, and helplessly cried my eyes out. My mother's hand failed to get tired, and my bottom was on fire. I could feel it turning redder and redder. My tears of embarrassment eventually turned to tears of pain.

I begged and screamed for my mom to stop. I didn't care anymore that my babysitter heard my pleas. I just wanted this spanking to end. As I was screaming, my dad told me that it was a good thing that he wasn't spanking me instead. He would have used the belt. I was getting what I deserved. How dare I misbehave for my babysitter.


 
 When "The Bad Seed" first appeared in theaters, I was about the same age as the little girl in the movie.

I usually didn't want to see scarey movies, but I did want to see "The Bad Seed" because the idea of a scarey movie where a girl my age was the "monster" so intrigued me.

But my mother forbade me to go. She didn't think a "horror" movie appropriate for a child my age.

After some of my friends saw it and were talking about the spanking at the end of the movie, then I wanted to see it even more. But I didn't dare go against my mother's prohibition. I wanted to SEE a little girl getting spanked, not BE a little girl getting spanked!


 
In my junior high school (grades 7,8 and 9), our principal was a particular fan of paddling, especially girls. There were no rules at all governing paddling as far as I could tell. The number of licks seemed totally at the descretion of the paddler. There were no witnesses required. You could get paddled for any reason the Principal or a teacher thought you should be paddled. A girl's skirt could be flipped up, though that usually only happened when you were sent to the principal, and nobody ever questioned the school teachers' or principal's authority to paddle you however and whenever they pleased. Most of us were scared to death for our parents to learn that we had been paddled at school, because it usually would mean a whipping at home too. I know I never told my parents. This one particular principal would patrol around looking for students he could justify taking to the office for a paddling. I got several from him, as did many, many of the girls who went to school there. He would take us to his office (unless we had been sent there by a teacher in the first place), close the door, tell us we were getting a spanking, make us bend over his desk, flip up our dress or skirt, and lay the paddle across our panties anywhere from 5 to 15 licks. He spanked crisply, and it did sting quite a bit, but he was never brutal about it. In hindsight, I know this was to avoid ever being called on his spanking practices. Especially if you were a pretty girl, you could forget getting through junior high without several paddlings. He'd target us and find a reason to spank us whenever he could. Not a day went by that a few girls didn't find themselves bent over his desk getting their fannies warmed up.

I don't argue that he enjoyed spanking us (particulary girls, and the prettier the better), but I don't think this negates the utility and validity of spanking at school.


 
I was not allowed to go out, but I had glided out through the window. In the middle of the night, I glided back in, quiet as an Indian at war, sure she hadn’t heard it. But my mother had a special naughty girl sonar.

She produced the martinet and took the sheet off me. I had to turn over. It was a hot summer night and I was well dressed for it, wearing only a short nightdress that was quickly turned up. After five or six smarting lashes, she stopped. “These were disobeying me and going out without permission. But don’t you ever dare to lie to your mother or ignore me.” She whipped my seat with that martinet till my sheets were wet of tears and my seat a red burning mess. It still smarted a bit in Mass, but my conscience smarted too.


 
My "prime" spanking years were from age 5-10 when I averaged about 3-4 spankings a year - usually from my mom with the hairbrush. My dad spanked me a few times, not more than 6 in my entire childhood and used his belt. Regardless of who spanked me, they always did it bare.

After age 10 I only got spanked once more - right after I turned 13. My mom used the hairbrush, as usual, and true to form I was bawling like a baby by the time she stopped. She set out to show me that she was still the boss even though I was now a teenager and her point was well noted.

Most of the spankings I got were from my mom with her hairbrush. I only got a few from my dad using his belt. When he spanked he only gave us a dozen or so spanks with the belt and it was over.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't like the belt at all, but when my mom spanked with the hairbrush she had you bare across her lap and she spanked very rapidly for at least a minute. I got far more spanks during a hairbrush spanking than when my dad spanked with his belt.


 
Well my Mother used many words or phrases - but "spanking" was not one of them!
A "seeing to" was one of them as was the more colourful "bottom warming"
A "good seeing too" meant I was really for it and a "right proper bottom warming" meant her wooden spoon would make me truly sorry for what I had done!
If she said - "Am I going to have to smack your bottom?" that was normally enough to warn me off but if I continued misbehaving or showing attitude it was too late - she had me by the elbow and we were heading for the kitchen where her wooden spoon and favourite "spanking chair" (just a solid wooden kitchen chair) were located with her muttering - "that's it! - time for a right proper bottom warming,young lady!".
I look back to those times with affection (from this distance of time) because although my bottom was stinging at the time it soon subsided and I knew that my Mother spanked (or bottom-warmed!) because she loved me and wanted me to make the best of myself.

 
I had a fear of the belt. Daddy's belt. When one of us kids got in trouble we had to sit in the living room and wait for daddy to get home from work. Daddy owned a garage and he worked long hours. He would come home and all he wanted to do was drink the one beer he permitted himself each day and read the sports section of the newspaper. He did not want to deal with us kids, especially if there were problems. Mom would get him the minute he came in the back door and tell him what happened. I can still his heavy steps as he came from the kitchen, through the dining room and toward the living room. Then you would hear the belt buckle being undone. Finally he would appear sliding the belt out of his trouser loops. Of course by them I was totally in tears. His belt used to meet my bare bottom like an electrical charge. He would try to hold me still by an arm but I managed to dance and hop about making him aim for a moving target. That used to earn me a few extras as he called them but I couldn't help it. I just could not stand there and take it.

 
My parents split up when I was very young and till 11 I lived with just my mom. My mom spanked when I did not behave. When I was little it was with her hand but since 9 with the wooden spoon. Spankings were bare bottom over mom's knee.

When I was 11 my mom remarried and I got a step father and step brother. My step brother Peter was about 8 months older than me and was at the next grade at school. My step father was a great man and I quickly bonded to him even before my mom and he married but then even stronger and I was glad to have him. Looking back I now think I was lucky to have him. However I also learned from Peter that his dad spanked with the belt. About two months after my mom remarried and we moved to live together Peter got spanked for the first time in our new house. I saw him taken to his room and heard the spanking and the crying soon. It sounded pretty hard and scary and I just hoped it won't happen to me too.

However soon afterwards I also got in trouble and the issue of discipline came up. I was brought for lecturing before both my mom and step dad and they said that they discussed discipline for Peter and me and decided it will be the same for both of us, same rules, same requirements and same punishments for both, and that if any of us was to be spanked it will normally be my step dad who will give us the spankings.

Few minutes later I found myself being taken by my step dad to my room. When there he took off his belt and commanded me to pull down my pants and underpants and lie down on the bed. It was the first belt spanking I ever got. I thought my mom's wooden spoon spankings hurt badly but I was to find what it means for a spanking to really hurt badly. My step dad's belt spankings were much worse than mom's spankings. Unfortunately I averaged 4 or 5 spankings a year for the next three years and it always was with my step dad's belt on the bare bottom.


 
Mom had a hairbrush (actually it was a pink back brush), that she had purchased from one of her friends that sold Avon or something like that, for the sole purpose of spanking, and that is all it was ever used for.

It was kept in a desk in a corner of the family room where Mom did her sewing, scrapbooking and other crafts. We were strictly prohibited from getting into the stuff in or on that desk.

However, there were a couple of times when I was told to fetch the hairbrush. I can remember being told to go to my room (which was the usual place of spankings unless they were the heat of the moment kind) and told to pick up the hairbrush on the way.

Mom was the disciplinarian in our home, and the handful of spankings I got from Dad were nothing. He didn't like doing it and it showed I guess. The most serious spanking from Dad was once Mom was gone and he spanked me with his belt. I wasn't very old--but it was really nothing. I even faked crying hard so that he would think that he had done a good job of it.

Mom, on the other hand, was an enthusiastic spanker. She spanked often and spanked hard--almost always with the special hairbrush that was only used for spanking and I can not recall ever getting a spanking from Mom that was not on my bare bottom.

I wonder why it is that so often it is Moms that are the most "enthusiastic spankers?"

I used to hate the times I was told to grab the brush and go to my room. Of course, if my sister or Dad saw me with it, that was more than embarrassing. I didn't like having the dreadful weapon in my hand and would always lay it on my desk, while i sat on the bed waiting for Mom. I think that saved me the gut wrenching indignity of having to hand it over to her.


 
Definitely Mum's spankings hurt the most.  I think it comes from Mum getting spanked herself growing up, she knew just where to apply the hairbrush.
I as a Daddy's girl so my father's spanking was light.
I recall when I was 13 Mum demanded he spank me, so in their bedroom he had me over his knee & clapped his hands so Mum thought I was getting a spanking.
Later on she came into my room & I was laying on my bed pretending to sob, she lifted my skirt to see I had white cheeks. She stormed out & there was a big row with Dad, he stormed out to the pub.
And guess who got a real sore bottom?

My spankings always took place in mum's bedroom. I was mostly sent to wait for her, unless she was really angry in which case I was led up the stairs getting my legs smacked all the way into her room.  Then always the same scolding, knicks down & over for her hairbrush.


 
One time my father sent me to stand in the corner between the dining table and a corner wall. My elder sister, when Dad wasn't looking stood behind me and began singing softly 'Abi's getting a spanking, Abi's getting a spanking, Abi's getting a spanking.' I was close to tears when she was teasing me but I was worried about my punishment so I stood there. She snuck away when Dad came back and as soon as he came inside he said 'Abigail come with me'. Dad spanked me in his bedroom and sent me back to the corner. I truly hated my sister for teasing me, it wasn't something I would have done to her.

 
During my school years you were under school rules when you were travelling to and from school, this included waiting at the busstop and when on the bus. This meant that if you misbehaved you were punished at school. I received one paddling for this offence when I was in the sixth grade.

I had been a little too loud on the journey to school and we were a week away from summer break so I was quite excited. The bus driver told me to wait behind and he took my name. Mid morning a monitor came to the classroom and my teacher announced that I had to report to the principal's office.

The principal scolded me sternly for not only for misbehaving on the bus but also for being rude to the bus driver and speaking back to him, which I hadn't done. My punishment was a paddling of five swats and 100 lines. I had to take a letter home to my parents to sign and I thought I would be going to bed with a very sore bottom. Dad gave me a talking too and said I was close to going over his knee but he didn't spank me. He punished me with a week of early bedtimes and no ice-cream after dinner. Mom drove me to school for our meeting with the principal. Girls had to wear either skirts or dresses to school so Mom ironed my thickest skirt, she prevented me from putting two pairs of panties on as our washing machine was broken and we didn't have a lot of money in those days.

We had to wait for a few minutes for the principal and then when the paddle was brought out, Mom left the office and one of the office ladies came in to witness the paddling. I received five swats and the last four I had to go over the principal's knee because I refused to bend over again after rubbing my bottom. After my paddling I had to report to class and Mom accompanied me, she washed my face , hugged me and kissed me telling me I had been a brave girl. I was very well behaved both to and from school from then on.


 
My mom and dad pretty much always whacked me smack dab in the middle of my rear end. But I remember as I got older (between the ages of 9-11), my brothers who spanked me on occasion, seemed to aim at my way upper thighs only. I didn't at the time, but I now suspect it was because they didn't want to hit me on the butt for some reason that has to do with me being a girl. I know when I was younger (5-7) they smacked my butt, but that definitely changed at a certain age. And by the way, the thighs are way more sensitive to being smacked, I would shriek if they spanked me because it stung like fire - even through jeans. Also, my British relatives (uncles, aunts, grandparents) tended to smack the upper thigh every time they smacked one of us. I think it's a cultural thing.

 
While I was at school was always the time my mother would go through my room 'cleaning up' and/or putting away laundry...but she also took the opportunity to scour my room for contraband items. Some of the things she found included a bad progress report from school that was supposed to be signed and returned weeks before.

I could tell I was going to get an 'after school' spanking when I walked into my room and it was all neatly cleaned by my mother...and the leather belt used for spanking was laid out prominently on my bedspread.


 
My best friend, Jilly, and I with two other friends were spanked by Jilly's mother during a sleepover one Saturday night when we were nine years old.

The time came when we were in Jilly's room and we started playing House and making a bit of a commotion. We started jumping on Jilly's bed, Jilly and I were on it and the feet of the bed broke with a loud crack.

Mrs Rourke was upstairs in a flash, Jilly and I had hopped off the bed and when Mrs Rourke came, saw the broken feet beneath the bed and was furious she took Jilly into her bedroom and I heard Mrs Rourke order Jilly over her knee. Jilly was begging not to be spanked and then we heard the familiar cracking of a hairbrush on her bottom she was sobbing and crying.  She was really crying.  Then Mrs Rourke came back for Georgia, Hannah and I.

She marched us to her bedroom and she had her hairbrush on her bed.  She put Georgia over her knee and lowered her pyjama bottoms.  She spanked Georgia over ten times over her panties. Jilly was in a corner rubbing her bottom through her nightie and Georgia was sent to stand next to her after her spanking.

Mrs Rourke called me over to her and I sobbed even louder so she had to put me across her lap. I wore pyjamas and the bottoms came down while I was over Mrs Rourke's lap. It was a fairly painful spanking, she had a bigger brush than what my mother did. I was sent to an opposite corner to Jilly and Georgia.  And then Hannah received her spanking.  She had on a nightie as well.  She received her spanking with a minimum of fuss unlike the rest of us as her father generally used the belt on Hannah and her sister and brothers.

Jilly had a younger brother so god knows what he was thinking.  He was with his father downstairs and was standing at the bottom of the staircase as we were marched back to Jilly's bedroom.

As soon as we had cleaned the mess we had made, it must have been a sight the four us one hand clasped over our stinging bottoms as we tidied the room. As soon as we were in our made up beds and sleeping bags the lights were switched off and we sobbed ourselves to sleep.

All seemed to be forgiven the next morning as we dressed for church as our parents would be taking us home. We had a quiet breakfast.

Mrs Rourke told our parents what had happened and that she had given us a spanking. Georgia's mother didn't seem too impressed with her daughter being spanked, but my mother was fine with it and I had to apologise to Jilly's parents.

Mom told me I would be going over her knee after lunch. Mom gave me her traditional spanking after I had finished my lunch and I had to spend the afternoon in my bedroom.

The next day was school and during recess we were playing hopscotch and it became clear that Georgia and Hannah had earnt a second spanking from their fathers after church.

Hannah didn't feel she deserved it.  I know Georgia was disappointed she had been spanked. As for myself, it was one of my more memorable spankings and I probably did deserve my stinging bottom. As I had been warned previously about such activities my punishment was justified. Georgia and Hannah probably had their spanking while not jumping on the bed they were raucous as Jilly and I were.

We lost Georgia to cervical cancer about ten years ago, but Hannah, Jilly and I are still the best of friends and play tennis together.


 
Group spankings were hinted at when I visited friends but none was ever carried out. The most memorable threat of a group spanking was at a friend's cousin's house. The mom said that she had just obtained a new implement for spanking. Those weren't her exact words and I cannot recall exactly what her words were. The gist of the idea was that she had a NEW object AND if we were very good, none of us would find out just what it was. The threat worked and we were pretty good all afternoon but the level of curiosity was high. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I never learned the identity of the object but we speculated all afternoon. In retrospect, I wonder what it could have been. I had the vague feeling that it had been purchased rather than picked off a bush or received as a gift or made by hand. I guess it will remain one of those mysteries of childhood.

 
Once in 5th grade my teacher made me take home a note because I had not done my homework. Let me tell you all hell broke loose when I gave that note to my mom to sign. She did not even bother to wait for my dad to get home. She dragged me upstairs to her bedroom got out her hairbrush and spanked me wicked hard on the seat of my panties. I was still lying on my bed crying when my dad got home. He got out the paddle he spanked me and my younger brother with and gave me 5 more hard whacks on my bare fanny. I made sure that I never brought home another note again.

 
One night when I got a call from one of my daughter's teachers, when she was nine. The teacher asked me how come I didn't sign the note for my daughter to return. I asked her, "What note would that be?" and she said, Your daughter has failed her last three spelling tests (because she didn't study for them), and I'm willing to give her some make up work to bring her grades back up, but I needed you to sign and return the note I sent by her first. 

I told the teacher that my daughter had told me that you weren't giving them spelling tests for the rest of the year, you were giving them a writing assignment using the spelling words instead (ok my daughter had me wrapped). So after I told the teacher it would be ok to have her do the make up tests and hung up, I called my daughter into the living room for a conversation. 

First I asked her about the spelling tests which and she still held onto her story. Then I asked her about the note from her teacher. She also denied it. Then I told her that I just got off the phone with her teacher and that's what we were talking about. Then she started crying. She finally admitted to lying to me about the tests so she wouldn't have to study. Then to throwing the note away. I asked her why she hid all that from me.. and she told me she was afraid I was going to spank her for getting bad grades. I asked, "Have I ever given you a spanking for failing a test? She said, "No". Then I asked, "So why do you think I would have spanked you this time." "I don't know" I told her I would have made her spend more time studying until her grades were up... She asked if she was in trouble and I said, "You better believe you are.  But it isn't because you failed some tests, it's because you lied to me about the tests to get out of studying, hid the note from your teacher, and then lied to me again tonight." 

So I informed her she was getting a spanking, and after 15 minutes of melodramatics she finally pulled her pants and panties down and lay across my lap. I told her before I started I would give her three swats for lying about the tests, three for throwing the note away, and four more for lying to me tonight (using only my hand). It was all over in less about five or six seconds and she ran to her room crying. About five minutes later she comes out and asked, "Daddy can I have a hug?" I told her "of course you can" and then let her sit on my lap and cry it out. She promised she wouldn't do it again afterward. We did have to repeat the lesson only one other time and that was when she hid her report card when she'd made an F (in spelling).


 
During fourth and fifth grades I had a habit of preferring to play rather than do my homework. My fourth grade teacher caught me for the second time when I had to write the homework on the blackboard. He sent me to the principal and she gave me a letter that my parents had to sign. The letter informed my parents about my homework and that I would be paddled the next day at school. Dad was very strict with our schoolwork and how we behaved at school so he gave me a spanking after supper. I didn't sleep that well and woke early, dressing for school (girls were required to wear dresses or skirts to school).  The next day I put two pairs of panties on and Mom took the bus with me to school. Mom was present in the office when I received my three licks and she took me home afterwards and I had to stand in the corner for about half an hour and I was sent to bed after supper. It sounds funny but I wish Mom or Dad had have spanked me in the morning so my bottom was at least warm when I had my paddling.

The paddle was applied with my skirt raised and it wasn't noticed that I was wearing two pairs of panties for my paddling as I had worn rhumba panties for my second pair, these were larger and covered more of my bottom. I attempted the same trick a year later and was found out so the principal took the second pair down with an office lady present. Mom didn't attend that paddling but she spanked me again that night.


 
An acquaintance got sentences to a paddling and her memory is that she wore ten pairs of panties. Needless to say, they provided a big cushioning effect. However, she was immediately detected because instead of the usual "Crack" sound, the paddle just made a dull thud. She pretended to feel it but the principal and witness both agreed that "It didn't sound right." Her butt was inspected and she had to change into just gym shorts. Her comment to me was: Do you know how thin those regulation gym shorts are!

 
I had a good friend and she was the youngest of three girls. Her dad was an engineer and he had custom made a perfect 7.0 spanking paddle. It was kept in the hall closet near the front door. Gerry, my friend, used to "talk" to it saying things like I am going to make sure you don't land on my bottom this week. She had that same feeling that Lily N. mentions of being mocked by the very existence/presence in the house of the paddle. Its only reason for being was spanking so just hanging there in the closet it spoke volumes. It whispered "Don't you dare!"

 
When I was at school misbehavior at school meant a spanking at home. You had a letter sent home that had to be signed and brought back to the principal when you were going to be spanked with the paddle. I received the paddle five times at school and only four times did my parents spank me. 

One night I practically begged my father not to spank me after my paddling, I had received five swats at school and my bottom was still quite tender.  He put me over his knee and lifted my nightie and I was in tears trying to cover my bottom but instead of spanking me he slapped his hands together and told me to cry out which I did.  He slapped his hands together about 20 times. Mom came up and all she saw was me lowering my nightie and Dad standing up so she thought I had been spanked. Dad sneaked me a hot chocolate before my bedtime and he stayed with me until I went to sleep and that one of the times I felt truly close to him.


 
Despite the prayers of my father he ended up with three girls and I am the middle child of the family. 

The first spanking I remember was with my older sister when we had misbehaved at Church one Sunday morning. My younger sister was still in diapers but she was walking and talking. Dad told the two of us that he was going to spank us when we arrived home and upon our return we were sent to wait in opposite corners of the family room. Dad went upstairs and brought down the hairbrush he and Mom used for spanking, he called me over to him and I began sobbing as he put me over his knee. I had a short dress on so he didn't have to lift my dress too high. 

Mom was holding our younger sister and Dad began my spanking.  After I was sent back to the corner he spanked my older sister and she was sent back to the corner until lunch. We were both spanked fairly soundly and we spent lunch shifting on our sore fannies as we sat at the table.  The tradition of the youngest being spanked first continued when my younger sister had her first spanking.  She and I were spanked by Mom together for not putting our dolls away when Mom had ordered us to. Generally if two of us were in trouble we were spanked in front of each other and the youngest received her spanking first. I really hated seeing her spanked knowing that I was going to be next and I felt the dread that my older sister must have felt when she was watching me being spanked. In typical middle child fashion I was spanked more than my sisters were.

I grew up in the 1950s and 60s and spanking was the main form of punishment for my two sisters and I.  Both of our parents spanked us but I received the most from Mom. We mostly wore skirts and dresses usually with a petticoat and Mom always lifted our skirts and petticoat when she spanked the three of us but she didn't take our panties down and Dad followed her example. Even the big panties we wore in those days didn't offer much protection from the hairbrush we were spanked with and when we were spanked we were spanked soundly and usually sent to the corner to think about what we had done. 

A few of my friends were spanked bare bottom and our grandmother did spank the three of us bare bottomed on one occasion and she spanked me one more time bare bottomed.

I don't know why our parents chose to spank us over our panties and not bare bottom. As a mother I spanked my daughters and son over their underpants as did their father. My grandson has been spanked and my eldest spanked him over his underpants as well.

Maybe it was an unstated family tradition,


 
The first spanking I remember was with my older sister when we had misbehaved at Church one Sunday morning. My younger sister was still in diapers but she was walking and talking. Dad told the two of us that he was going to spank us when we arrived home and upon our return we were sent to wait in opposite corners of the family room. Dad went upstairs and brought down the hairbrush he and Mom used for spanking, he called me over to him and I began sobbing he put me over his knee. I had a short dress on so he didn't have to lift my dress too high.

Mom was holding our younger sister and Dad began my spanking.  After I was sent back to the corner he spanked my older sister and she was sent back to the corner until lunch. We were both spanked fairly soundly and we spent lunch shifting on our sore fannies as we sat at the table.  The tradition of the youngest being spanked first continued when my younger sister had her first spanking.  She and I were spanked by Mom together for not putting our dolls away when Mom had ordered us to. Generally if two of us were in trouble we were spanked in front of each other and the youngest received her spanking first. I really hated seeing her spanked knowing that I was going to be next and I felt the dread that my older sister must have felt when she was watching me being spanked. In typical middle child fashion I was spanked more than my sisters were.


 
The most exciting spanking I ever witnesses happened at my next door neighbors when I was around 9. They were being visited by family friends with 2 girls, one my age and the other 2 years younger. While climbing on their mother's car they broke off the windshield wiper. Needless to say their mother was furious.

First their mother was scolding them (yelling acutally) which attracted all the kids in the neighborhood and soon there was about a dozen of us gathered on their front sidewalk. The mother then took this huge Belt and grabbed the older girl and pulled up her dress. She then proceeded to mercilessly whip her hiney over her panties with that belt as she screamed and cried.

After a long strapping for the older girl she grabbed the younger girl and whipped her in the same manner. All of the kids just stood there spellbound. When it was over, the girls had to sit in their car - of course they were bawling like babies which continued on for several minutes. The rest of the kids just moved on to another yard for bike riding or playing.

For those two it was NOT "a wonderful day in the neighborhood" and for me I just kept thinking how lucky I was that I didn't get spanked that day. Even though my mother spanked me with a hairbrush now and then I was glad that this other woman was not my mother as I would not have wanted to get whipped with her strap.


 
{There was] one teacher during my schooldays who punished a girl in public, and certainly the boys found the event hugely entertaining. The girl in question was spotted talking to her neighbour, and was called out to the front of the class. You could hear a penny drop as everyone wondered if she was going to get the slipper. When she was told to bend over, one of the boys couldn't contain himself and muttered "Cor!", only to be told that he'd get the same if he didn't watch out. But there was more ceremony to come. The girl's position wasn't right, and she was told to bend over more; when this still wasn't enough, she was gently moved into the correct position. And then, to crown it all, the teacher pushed the girl's skirt up to reveal a tightly-stretched pair of navy-blue knickers.

 
I was about six at the time, and my fifteen year-old sister was going to see a movie with her friends that evening. I was as mad as a hornet because I couldn't understand why I wasn't allowed to go with her.

While she was fixing her hair, I jumped up on the vanity next to her and begged and pleaded her to take me along. When she refused, I spit in her hair. She screamed for mom and chased after me, so I ran into my room and hid under my bed.

When she told my mom what I did, she was furious. She reached under my bed and yanked me out by my arm. I knew she was going to spank me, so I started screaming and crying and tried to get back under my bed, but mom had a really tight grip on my wrist so I couldn't move hardly at all.

She reached under my dress with her free hand and pulled my panties down to my ankles, then turned me over her knee and started smacking my naked bottom.

She had just started when my sister's friends pulled up in the driveway and walked up the the screen door. I guess they were a little embarrassed by what they heard, because they just tapped really weakly at the screen door as if they weren't sure what to do. Mom stopped for a second and called out from my room for them to come in, and that my sister would be there in a minute. Then she started spanking me again.

I guess I was yelling and crying too loud to hear them go out because after she was done they were already gone. I thought my sister's friends were cool and I looked up to them, so I was really embarrassed for them to find out I got spanked.


 
I think my parents threatened and used spanking too much. I think my mom agrees and regrets many that she'd given due to her terribly, quick temper. She admits that all throughout her life, she's battled with her temper. I don't think there is anything that will get my dad to change his mind. He still believes that all kids benefit from spankings.

In some ways my earlier experiences with spanking ruined my relationship with my mother. I was a hard-headed, stubborn little girl. I was the youngest of three children. I was a Daddy's Girl for a while, but I butted heads with both my parents. They expected instant obedience, and many times were not understanding of young children and their quirks. In some respects they were unreasonable in their expectations.

I was frequently teased by my older brother and sister, which resulted some retaliation on my part. My father worked long hours as a police officer, and my mother had the mind-set of a 1950s housewife. I grew up in the 70s and 80s by the way. My mother kept our house immaculately clean and organized. She was always busy with cleaning, cooking, baking, church activities, and helping our grandma and grandpa. If I wanted her attention, sadly, I usually resorted to acting out. I was almost always spanked for my misbehavior.


 
In the city, between our neighbours and us was only a small wall, and we could enjoy the spankings of the kids of our neighbours. The mother, of gypsy origins, wielded a mean paddle: they didn’t get beaten often, but very hard. They were actually nice parents with good kids, we listened with a combination of fascination mingled with disgust. All children (at least the ones I know), enjoyed to hear a good spanking (happy not to be the victim), but these spankings were very hard. We could hear the breadboard slamming in naked buttocks, the howls of pain and despair, and that went on for a long time. I admit I fancied the girl, with beautiful dark eyes and curly hair – I couldn’t imagine what she had done to deserve such a brutal treatment.

Off course, particularly in our living room, the neighbours could hear everything we got, too. That was the traditional fifteen to thirty seconds of smacks raining down on your bare seat. Our dad was a big bloke with hard hands, and at older age we got the jokari paddle. I indeed still remember the sound of the very first smack of the jokari paddle: the sound hits your ear a fraction of a second earlier than the real pain, I guess. It was incredibly loud, like a gunshot. It made indeed the pain even worse.


 
Mom spanked me often with the slipper, in summer she used to wear flipflops and in winter leather sole bedroom slippers, so I knew quite well that a slippering was a painful punishment because those kinds of slipper sting good. But then around summer 78, a new fashion came, Dr Scholl's slipper and my mom bought a pair. My GOD! The first slippering I got with them it was really unbearable, I was used to flexible soles but those hard wooden soles made me cry from the first smack (I guess that's the feeling with a paddle, that's not used at Spain).
I tried my best to avoid them but I got about four spankings that summer with DrScholl. And each one was really hard.
Lucky for me, Mom wasn't comfortable with the slippers as she told my grandma and she gave the slippers to her when the season ended. I never thought I would be 'happy' when I watch Mom wearing the usual slippers again.

 
I went to an only girls school.  Teachers didn’t use CP, only the headmistress or her assistant.  It was usually with a ruler on the hands. Paddling was very rare but it did occur. I got my hands smacked several times; I have also received the paddle at school 3 times.  That is only because I was an extra naughty kid, other girls hardly ever got spanked. Paddling was administered in the headmistress office.  I would bend over the desk and grab the edge then the headmistress would lift up my skirt and administer about 3 to 5 strokes.

I received the ruler on my hands from the headmistress and the hairbrush on my bare bottom from my grandma over her knee.  The second time the headmistress had to suspend me for 2 days, she made me kneel in the corner of her office with my hands on my head and called Grandma to come pick me.  After what seemed like an hour Grandma came. I waited outside the office til Grandma talked with the headmistress, then we took off. Grandma didn’t say a word on the way back home. When we got there, she told me to fetch a fresh long switch from the tree before getting in “because she will teach me a lesson in respecting teachers” I was already crying and scared to death when I was picking it, I went inside the house and found her waiting for me in my room, I was ordered to lift up my skirt, take my panties off and bend over the foot of the bed, then she started switching me hard and fast on my bare bottom down to my thighs.  It was very thin and burnt so bad.  It kept landing endlessly and I was wailing, pleading and promising to be good.  After it was finally over she hugged me and comforted me till I stopped crying, then she made me SIT while she talked to me for an hour about my behavior, which was as bad as the spanking itself.

Switching was definitely the worst punishment for me, thank God I only received it twice in my life, I hated it even more because the welts took several days to disappear completely.

I was promised a spanking by Grandma many times, usually for acting up in public or doing something dangerous.  When I was younger and used to throw those big tantrums she used to put me in a time out, but that usually didn’t work and she would give me that look and tell that she will deal with me when we get home.  I always knew what that meant... I remember once I was 8 and I was close to getting it on the spot.  We were at a mall and I was running off here and there and even disappeared few times.  In short I was driving her crazy, she was almost gonna take me to the rest room to spank me but then she controlled herself and promised me the spanking once we get home, and I went over her knee once we were home and received a sound bare bottom spanking.

I had a more embarrassing experience when I was 12 and Grandma had some friends over, I came in to say hello and one of her friends asked or said something to me and I gave her one of my smarting-off rude comments. Grandma immediately said “LEENA COME HERE” I knew that tone of voice meant trouble, I came to her, she slightly bent me and gave me two swats on my clothed bottom, then she told me to apologize to the lady and go my room and stay there cuz I will get a spanking later.  I was so embarrassed, I apologized with teary eyes and went straight to my room. After they all left grandma came up with her hairbrush, I certainly received a hard bare bottom spanking.


 
I usually got my spankings from grandma over her knee with a hairbrush or her hand with the protection of my underwear. If the spanking was for something I got spanked for before or my grandma thought that I did something really bad I earned a bare bottom spanking with the hairbrush. And for the greatest offences such as lying or skipping school, I got the stick or the switch on my bare bottom and thighs bending over the bed.

I only got spanked once for misbehaving in church.  It was memorable enough.  I was about 8 years old and I was really acting up, talking and giggling with a friend of mine, and I didn’t stop even after several warnings from my grandma (very stupid I know). On our way home she was really upset and told me that she owed me a spanking for the way I’d been acting.  I cried and apologized but still went over her knee once we got home.  She pulled down my panties for the first time in my life for a spanking.  The sting was really bad and I was crying long after she was done with me.

I remember once getting spanked before going to school, I was 3rd grade. I gave my grandma a very hard time and wouldn't get out of bed or get dressed.  I kept telling her that I didn't feel well and that I didn't wanna go to school. After several warnings she lifted me up and placed me on her lap, took down my pj bottoms and gave many hard spanks on my panties.  After letting me up again I was ready to go get dressed for school!!

I made the mistake of telling my Grandma once “That didn’t hurt!!”   That was when I received a spanking on my panties for not doing some chores.  Although the spanking was hard and I was sniffing when it was over, I was so mad at her for spanking me for something that I have forgotten to do.  ( I really haven’t forgotten my chores I just ignored them and she was completely aware of that).  So when my spanking was over I wanted to show her that it didn’t matter to me at all. As I said it was a big mistake, because I went right on her lap again, but this time I received a bare bottom spanking with much more swats than the usual, I was a total crying mess when she let me off. That one definitely did hurt!!

As a student I always gave my teachers a very hard time, it wasn’t easy for an active daring girl like me not to get herself in trouble at least once a month. CP was held only by the headmistress or her assistant, which was either a paddling or ruler on the hands. Grandma usually received phone calls or notes from school about my bad behaviors and the punishment I have earned, she also knew about them whenever she attended parents’ meetings. That usually earned me spankings as well as other punishments like groundings or corner times. Grandma never spanked me for bad grades, only for bad behavior. Those spankings were usually done the same way, bare bottom over her knee with the hairbrush. But I did get more severe spankings when I was suspended (which happened twice).


 
Being told you were going to get a spanking and then having to wait for the spanking were by far the most stomach-churning events in my childhood. But I think the reason for that was the fact that I was a fairly sensitive child. No matter what age I was I always thought I was "too old" to get a spanking, even at just 6 or 7 years old. (I think it had to do with the fact that 2 of my siblings were younger so it made me feel juvenile.)

Anyways, the embarassing wait before a spanking was like torture to me! I can remember sitting there and waiting with that anticipation feeling in my stomach, and a slight tingle on my bum because I knew that soon it would be exposed and spanked. For me I think the worst part of the spanking was that waiting! Can anyone else still "feel" that physical anticipation?


 
I think in most families that practice spanking there is a likelihood of at least light teasing among siblings. I mean, teasing is a common interaction among sibs so it is only natural to assume that they may jab at eachother with a "You're gonna get a spanking for hitting me" or "I'm telling Mom so you can get a spanking". I can say that in my house it was less common for us to even mention a spanking after the fact that had occurred to another, as it was a source of embarassment for us.

Although I am ashamed to admit it, one summer when I was around 8 or 9 my 7/8 yr old younger brother (with whom I was very close, but always bickering with!) had gotten a spanking for doing something to me. We were playing outside after dinner and I was trying to impress a friend of ours who was 1 yr older than me and told them "Marky got a spanking from my mom before." I remember the friend giggled and my brother ran into the house. Of course the second I said the statement I felt guilt about "outting" my punished brother to our friend. The guilt wasn't the worst of my problems, though, as my mom came to the back door and called out my full name, telling me to come inside. I knew I was in for it. I was told that if I was so interested in someone else's spanking than maybe I needed to get one of my own. Right there in the kitchen I got a bare-bottom spanking across my mom's knee. While Marky went back out to have a grand old time with our friend I stayed in my room to try to hide from the embarassment of my spanking.

I can say without a doubt I deserved that spanking for blurting out something that was so embarrassing to my brother though.

My mom wasn't one to fly off the handle and spank without warnings normally, but I think she was just having a tough day with us for one, and it was because I was embarrassing my brother by letting another person in on his punishment. It was just kind of a mean thing to do, and we wouldn't even really make fun of each other after spankings alone, so doing it in front of someone else was not tolerated by my mom.


 
There was always some teasing from other kids after one of us got a spanking like "did it hurt?" or "I bet you cried like a baby." Then a lot of times we'd actually show each other our "war wounds". As far as real teasing goes, I remember a few times when getting spanked in front of company, how some of the adults would comment, saying things like "boy your behind sure was red", "your face was as red as your fanny." or "if you'd been mine you'da got it worse than what your mama gave you." It amazed me how childish adults could act.

 
Grandma grew more angry and started scolding me and told me about the phone call she received from school, and asked me about the note she was supposed to sign, I had to admit that I have signed it myself, she said that I was in a big trouble and ordered me to go to m room and wait for her.

After a little while she came in with her ruler in hand, she reminded me again of how disappointed she was in me then ordered me to pull my panties down and bend over the bed. Once I was in position she lifted my skirt up and started spanking me with a steady pace, applying much harder swats on my sit spot, I dreaded Grandma’s ruler so much and I was crying from the first swat. I received about 25-30 with it and when she was through my bottom was hot and very sore, I had difficulty sitting all day and some marks were visible till the next morning.


 
Why do spankings work as child discipline?
- In "European" tradition, getting "a good hard spanking" was a rare event, and the rare events are always the most frightening, particularly for children with limited experience.
- It was cleverly sold as something close to the death penalty. Getting over the knee of your dad was worse than the worst thing that could happen to you as a child, while in fact your parents were very fond of you, and even during "a good hard spanking" watched out to teach you a lesson without harming you. Falling from trees (climbing higher than the boys was my greatest joy, helped by my very light frame) hurted a lot more, but never stopped me (my guardian angel did a good job). A spanking stopped me, at least for a long while.
- Maybe the worst for a dependent child is that your parents are very angry with you (only then you get a spanking).
- It was a very solemn ritual. The spanking itself took seconds, but scolding, preparing, standing in the corner... all made it very impressive

 
When I was nine or 10, I can remember the telephone ringing when I was having the slipper. My stepmother tried to ignore it but the telephone kept ringing so she stopped and answered it as I remained lying over her lap. For the two minutes she was on the telephone she kept her hand on my bare bottom. The only good side to it was that was the end of my punishment on that occasion.

 
When I was 6 or so, I once heard a friend getting a spanking, from inside her house, while I was still at the bottom of the exterior stairs leading to the front door, a distance of probably 100 ft.  Needless to say I didn't bother going to the door to see if she could come out to play.

 
It had been discovered that I had been stealing amounts of money from my mother's purse. I had been doing this over a period of time but eventually got caught out when the amounts missing became noticeable. For the first and most memorable of the two times that she would use the tawse, a legacy from her teaching in Scotland, she gave me the most memorable and uncomfortable spanking of my entire childhood. Spanked bare over the bed I had to call out "one dollar!', two dollars" and so on until I reached $10 dollars, which the amount that had been positively identified as having drifted out of the purse and into my pocket. I stopped counting and my mother gave me two more for what she suspected I had taken.

 
I was about 12 one hot summer day when I misbehaved enough in the yard with a bunch of kids to make Mother forget about her “You wait till your father etc. etc” and enter the shops right away to make Father fulfill his paternal duty on the spot. I immediately withdrew to the far end of the yard, but Father soon emerged and I approached him followed by “a crowd” of people who knew that Anna (the paragon of virtue) was about to get it good. Father and I entered the bedroom on the first floor and he had already grabbed the shoehorn out of the umbrella stand as we passed it in the hall. When I lowered my shorts and knickers hesitatingly and bent over the cold metal foot end of the bed I noticed that the top windows were open and I knew that a bunch of kids including my sister were gathered only five yards below the window to enjoy the show. I remember digging my fingers into the bedspread and closing my eyes and gritting my teeth determined to keep my mouth shut, but after four or five strokes I forgot all about the listening crowd and went WAAAHHH as usual.

I got spanked because I had succeeded my sister in “cheerleading a teasing squad” that “mobbed” a young apprentice that sat in the window of the tailors’ workshop on the ground floor with five or six other tailors and “patronising staff” was a HUGE NO in our family. So after my spanking that had entertained my listening peers below in the yard my father led me downstairs into the tailors’ workshop and I had to run the gauntlet down to the apprentice who was just a couple of years older than me past five or six male tailors who had just heard me HOWL MY HEAD OFF in the bedroom right above the workshop.


 
In the very early 60s I can remember going to church in a very short dress and matching gussies. I had been soundly spanked the evening before for leaving a doll on my father's favourite chair, he had asked me to remove the doll and I had forgotten so he gave me a spanking in front of my sister while he sat on his chair, a spanking in our home was over panties or even if you were really unlucky your bare bottom. One of the girls in Sunday school noticed I still had my father's handprints on my very upper thighs. She pointed the marks out to another girl and they made fun of me for being spanked.

 
At 8, being a smart girl, I moved to the big elite nun-school in the city. The nuns and I never got along very well.. We were poor farmers, second rate citizens. We got our own back by always ending up in top of the class (the poor girls were selected for brains). Our dad didn't expect less. But being outspoken and a bit aggressive, I too often got in trouble. Then I came back with a "bad note", and got spanked for it.

The nuns of my school were not allowed to spank (till their great regret, I believe), but they promoted home spankings for bad notes at school. At primary school, we had weekly colour cards. There were three notes on it: the sum of homework, tests and behaviour that week. Gold was excellent, red was good, orange was mediocre, yellow was poor, green was terrible. So we knew who had done badly, and as girls we were always very curious what had happened to the victims of a yellow card (green was rarely given, implied serious problems).

A second yellow card (for me orange, my parents had been very poor as children and valued good marks highly) meant a "hard spanking". At age nine, ten, eleven, the most common tariff seemed to be between twenty and two dozen stinging strokes with the half yard ruler or the paddle on the underpants or bare bottom applied with moderation. A second session would be a lot worse, so in general, we were very well drilled girls.


 
It had been discovered that I had been stealing amounts of money from my mother's purse. I had been doing this over a period of time but eventually got caught out when the amounts missing became noticeable. For the first and most memorable of the two times that she would use the tawse, a legacy from her teaching in Scotland, she gave me the most memorable and uncomfortable spanking of my entire childhood. Spanked bare over the bed I had to call out "one dollar!', two dollars" and so on until I reached $10 dollars, which the amount that had been positively identified as having drifted out of the purse and into my pocket. I stopped counting and my mother gave me two more for what she suspected I had taken.

 
My sister was about 5 when one day she used toothpaste to paint the bathroom walls.When Mom found out she put her in the corner till she cleaned up the mess. When the bathroom was clean again, she went to the corner to give my sis the spanking she deserved. But when she lifted her skirt to begin the smacking, my sister was wearing a couple of diapers from our little brother. My mom began to laugh and she couldn't spank her after that clever action.
A few days later, my sister got in trouble with dad and she was sent to her room to wait for her punishment. She tried to play the same game with dad, but he knew the story so he smiled too but took out the diapers and gave her the proper punishment.
''And a piece of the one she missed before'', Dad used to finish the story with this joke.

 
I grew up with strict parents. Church was a big thing in my house and my parents expected us to be quiet, respectful, and still while sitting in church. I was the hard-headed little sister, who could also be a little wiggle worm. Looking back on things now, I guess you could say I was a spunky and spirited little girl. 

When I was four, I remember getting bored during one of the services and started acting out. My parents gave me several warnings. I was acting silly and playing around on the floor, which was a no-no. My mother picked me up and whisked me off to the lobby. She said, "You are in trouble and I don't care who sees you getting a spanking." Mom put me across her knee and started spanking my bottom. I started bawling, fussing, and throwing a fit. My mother held me on her lap and was trying to get me to quiet down and behave. I was angry with my mommy and really started throwing a tantrum. I thrashed around and kicked while on my mommy's lap. I heard my mother whisper, "Do you want another spanking?" I paid no attention to her. My mother picked me up and whisked me into the coat closet, a private little room off to the side. Inside with the doors shut and nobody around, my mother flipped up my dress and pulled my panties down. I got a bare butt spanking because I didn't behave after the first spanking. 

I was crying and carrying on because she gave me some hard stinging slaps on the butt. I was also carrying on because I was frustrated and angry with my mother. No kid likes to be spanked. I think if my mother let me sit beside her, rather than trying to force me to sit on her lap immediately after the spanking, I would have settled down. It turned into a battle of wills, and even though I was (still am) stubborn, my mother knew how to let me know who the boss was. My mother once again sat me on her lap in the lobby. This time, I did settle down and behave.


 
Staying in position was not a skill I ever mastered. I found spankings very scary and I thought they hurt. Many years later, I realized that the ones I got didn't really hurt, just as my mom claimed. But, I was a fearful kid and I imagined that they hurt big time. So, I would go into a kind of panic mode and try to squirm out of the way or block the switch or ruler. This would always prompt a firm request to "Move your hand immediately!!" and reluctantly I would comply. In this way I learned who was in charge. There was always the strong hint that it might be necessary to repeat the whole spanking. Fortunately, I never pushed it to the point that I actually got a "do-over." And, I feel very sorry for anyone who did since I bet that second one really made an impression.

I do recall telling the mom of a friend that spanking did not "work with me." She smiled, pulled my pyjamas tight, and gave me a sample spank with her hand, and said, "The second spanking will work." I remember being very impressed with her demo hand spank and thinking "hmmmmmnn, there could even be a third spanking."


 
I never got in trouble for reading [after my bedtime] but my friends did. They would sneak flashlights into their bed and read comics under the covers when they were supposed to be sleeping. This would lead to a quick spank or two and the command to go to sleep. One girl friend said that her dad would come upstairs with the hairbrush and swat her and her sister through the bedcovers. Even they thought it was a joke but they would pretend it really hurt. I kind of wonder if their dad did not know they were faking. In any event, it worked and they would fall asleep right after their "spanking."

 
The Head[mistress at my school] punished us on the 'sit down' part of our bottoms so it hurt a good deal. However it was administered very quickly and we found ourselves being told to stand up very soon after we had been told to bend over, only now we were clutching our smarting behinds and on the verge of tears. I had been brought up to keep a stiff upper lip in the face of adversity but still don't know how I managed it on this occasion. Getting the cane was considered a great disgrace and so embarrassed and ashamed was I that, for many months after, whenever we passed in the corridor I would return Miss Grigson's cheery "Good Morning, Jane" with a "Good Morning, Miss Grigson" mumbled in the direction of the floor with my eyes cast down;I felt I was a marked girl (in more ways than one!).

My mother, on the other hand, liked to cover a rather larger target area.Of course she had the advantage of being able to see where she placed each stroke but I could always expect at least a couple on the 'sit-down' part, depending on the offence. She also liked to take her time and pause for a few seconds after each one, to make sure I felt the full effect of its sting. All the same, I would rather have had six from her in the privacy of my own room than three from the Head in her study in front of the school secretary acting as a witness.

I had to fetch the cane from the umbrella stand in the hall and bring it to my Mum before taking down my knickers and bending over the chair in my room. It felt as though all the eyes in the house were looking at me.  The usual number of strokes for any of us siblings was six on the bare bottom but my last (and worst) was twelve from my father for a serious error of judgement when I was 15. I was allowed to keep my knickers on for that but that didn't really help.  My mother was something of an early feminist and believed strongly in equality in opportunities and discipline for girls.Of course, when she was caning my bottom I did not think of it as advancing her cause. Except on one occasion when my father thought he had to make an exception, Mummy handled all discipline for my sister and I.

Some of my friends parents used the cane at home, some didn't. In one family I knew only the boys got it. Canes were sold in most hardware stores and some toyshops. Ours were specially bought in London and were supposed to 'sting without bruising'. Although my parents were of the 'no nonsense' school of child rearing typical of their class and culture we knew we were greatly loved and accepted their discipline accordingly.We all turned out well.


 
My dad left us when I was pretty young, and Mama used to joke that the only thing worthwhile he left us was The Strap. (It was wide and thick and a half-dozen hurt like heck, the way Mama used it on the back of my legs.) Mama worked hard to get the tuition to send me to a parochial school (it cost extra because we weren't Catholic), so she didn't tolerate my wasting her money.

It was an inner-city school (K-8) in the late 50s and early 60s, and the nuns hit us all the time.

In school, for serious spankings it was most commonly The Dustbrush, which was heavy and wooden and was reserved for very serious offenses. You felt it through your clothing, so they could give it to you in front of the class and make an example of you without any immodesty. It was kept in The Cloak Room with the dustpan and brooms (and our boots and coats and other outer clothing), and Sister would send you back for it and you had to bring it up to her desk and then return it after your walloping was over. It would usually be just three or four, but they would be very hard.

At home, it was just Mama and me in a very small apartment, and Mama was a "do it yourself" type who would get The Strap (which was right there in her bedroom) while I got myself ready, taking my skirt off and tucking my slip up so Mama would have a clear shot at the back of my thighs. It wouldn't be that many, sometimes maybe even just one across each leg, sometimes as many as three or four, but every one smarted.

The thighs hurt so very much more than the behind, which was the purpose of a Strapping, and Mama could also Strap me on the bare thighs without offending modesty, of which both she and the Sisters were always most respectful.

Besides, The Strap didn't really very much mark me, not like the cuts or weals a switching would have left, and I never wore anything like "hot pants" (occasionally jeans, but mostly below-the-knees skirts), so my thighs wouldn't be visible anyway, except in a swimsuit. And a Strapping would be accompanied by GCs (grounding and chores), so I wouldn't be wearing a swimsuit for a week or more anyway.


 
Our best friends at the time a girl Sara and boy Walter about 12 and 13 at the time when Sis and I would have been 11 and 12 slept over with us while their parents were away for some days and the four of us misbehaved big time by going out of boundaries and getting caught shoplifting which made the shop owner call my home.

The minute we arrived home the four of us were lined up in the hall for a gigantic dressing down about going out of boundaries and stealing and quite unexpectedly Mother grabbed the wooden shoehorn out of the umbrella stand and “invited” Sara into the master bedroom. Judging from Sara’s bawling Mother did a very god job when she delivered the only real spanking of her life. When Sara came out and lined up again Father got the shoehorn and led Walter into the bedroom. He was as vocal as his sister and when he was back in line Sis and I were called in together. Father followed standard procedure and told Sis to lower her knickers and bend over the metal foot end of the bed after which he lifted her skirts out of the way and delivered 8-10 stinging slaps with the wretched shoehorn while I stood on wobbling knees watching what was in store for me.


 
I remember being extra extra good when promised "a spanking when we get home," but I am not so sure I can remember this tactic ever working for me. I do remember a couple of such occasions when my mother calmly enjoyed my extra good behavior and addressed me in a pleasant tone for the rest of our errands and all the way home, as if she had forgotten. This encouraged me to continue being extra good, which I am sure suited Mother just fine.

On one occasion I tried to think of something extra good to volunteer to do as soon as we got home. I hoped she would quietly let me do that instead of put me over her knee. Just as we approached home I cheerfully declared that I wanted to polish our best silverware now. Our best silverware really was made of silver and would tarnish and not look its best if not polished from time to time. Mother praised me for offering to do this extra chore without her needing to ask and she told me what a very good girl I was.

Once we arrived I dashed straight in and fetched our special occasion silverware while she got out the polish, a piece of oilcloth and a rag, and together we set everything up for me on our kitchen table. As we did, I hopefully acted eager to begin, angelic well-behaved little helper that I was!

I almost imagined my plan had worked and that I truly would get to polish silver instead of get my bare behind polished. But no sooner did I attempt to sit down and begin than Mother gently restrained me and stooped to my eye level to remind me again how pleased she was with me. She then declared, still smiling, "you may polish the silverware later, Margaret... after you've been spanked." She uttered those terrible words with her same pleasant tone, pronouncing the final four words a wee bit more slowly as if for emphasis.

For me it felt as if our brightly lit kitchen had suddenly gone dark and ominous. Before I'd quite had time to react to this abrupt change of affairs she added, "come with me," took me by my wrist and whisked me straight to my room. There she placed me over her knee, pulled down my panties and spanked me - every bit as soundly as she had earlier promised me she would.

And once I had finished crying and we had prayed together, I still had to go straight back to our kitchen, sit my poor little bottom down, and polish all that silverware!


 
Connie bent over the side of her bed and put her face in her arms, weeping miserably. He sat down next to her and I plainly saw that my new friend was indeed about to get a spanking from her father...

"Connie, darling, you must always tell Daddy the truth," and then gave the seat of her heavy pleated skirt a sharp little swat, firmly enough to be a real spank but not very hard. Connie cried louder, but she still cried an "I'm sorry" cry more than a "that hurts" cry.

If my father had caught me telling him a lie he would have had me over his knee by now with my skirts turned up in back. And he would be giving the exposed seat of my thin little panties one slow, hard spank after another with his big, heavy hand while I bawled and kicked my legs in pain. Indeed, for telling my father a lie at that age, a licking with my father's belt would have been a real possibility.

Connie's father bit his lip and reluctantly drew back his paddle and said, almost apologetically, "No more fibs from now on. Understood?" Again he swatted her, no harder than before. Through her thick woolen skirt and whatever she had on underneath I guessed that her father's paddle probably did hurt her, but just a tiny bit. If he had spanked her any less forcefully it could almost have been a game rather than a real punishment. But Connie was crying deep sobs of remorse and she wasn't faking.

"Only the truth!" he said, and gave Connie another restrained little swat. A pause, then, "Daddy means it!" he added, and gave her one last swat, slightly harder than the others but still not terribly hard. Then he set aside the paddle, sat Connie on his knee and held her while she cried and said she was sorry several more times. When she had mostly quieted down he asked her what she would do next time and she promised she would tell Daddy the truth and ask permission to do her homework later when she had a friend visiting instead of telling Daddy a fib.  And she sounded as if she really meant what she said and wasn't merely reciting what she thought she was supposed to say because her father had just spanked her.


 
I was an easy going and well behaved girl in general and I could easily be talked to and reasoned with and had I been my parents’ only child they probably wouldn’t have used spanking at all. Compared with many others I didn’t get it overly often or overly harshly, but the one or sometimes two times a year were SO memorable that I would always remember the last one as if it were yesterday whenever I considered misbehaving. So I claim that the mere fact that spanking DID exist was more than enough to keep me in line.

Quite unlike my active sister who might get it up to 3 or 4 times a year and who nevertheless seemed to forget about them shortly after and even took the risk of getting one into account whenever she CHOSE to misbehave. I don’t hesitate to claim that I got “half of my spankings” because of Sis’s, “Oh come on Anna, don’t be such a wimp."  So one might ask the question whether CP worked with a tomboy like her? I'm quite sure it did. She would have been even wilder.


 
The school would always call home if there had been what they considered a serious problem. And this always resulted in a spanking when I got home.

The rule in our house was get spanked in school get one at home also. The first time I was paddled was in second grade. And of course, they called and notified my Mom.

When I got home, Mom immediately brought it up. I can still recall the scene. We were in the kitchen. Mom said something like she could not believe it, was disappointed or something like that. Then she was quiet for a bit, and I thought it would pass (even though the rule had been mentioned several times in the past).

After a period of silence she asked me to show her my rear. I thought I had sat on something and turned around. She grabbed me and whipped up my skirt and underwear down. Mom commented "It doesn't look like it was much of a spanking."

I was then sent to my room to await one of her spankings!!!


 
You say that your mother's "debt" of owing you a spanking later was "usually" redeemed once she got you home.  Usually?  So did she ever decide not to redeem?

Now I am merely curious.  But back when I was little this would have been a matter of great importance for me.  I would have listened raptly to any story you might have shared with me about how a Mommy may be successfully lobbied into pardoning her daughter after promising her a spanking later on.  If my mother ever changed her mind or forgot after promising me a spanking when she got me home, I can't remember.  All I can recall are times when I was on my best behavior or lobbying her with mounting urgency all the way home, only to there find myself across her knee with my panties pulled down receiving my payment in full.


 
I remember when me and my sister were small, we were playing the babysitter up by keeping making excuses for coming downstairs. Unfortunately, we did this when Mum and Dad walked in. We fled for our lives as Dad chased us up the stairs!

We'd really been quite bad that evening, keeping coming down with excuses, but when we saw the look on Dad's face we bolted for our lives. I think we thought if we just got to the bed we would be safe. We slept together on bunk beds at the time and I remember my sense of panic as I climbed the ladder into the top bunk. About a second later, Dad arrived quite breathless from the chase. We thought we were certain to have our bottoms smacked, but I think Dad was quite amused by the terrified looks on our faces and just told us off with threats of dire consequences if....... I tell you, after that scare we didn't stir all night!!


 
I only remember Daddy spanking me once, and it consisted of a few swats on my bare bottom (standing up) that didn't hurt at all. On the other hand, Mother's over-her-lap hairbrush spankings hurt like anything. Oddly enough, though, I distinctly remember thinking--after that spanking by Daddy--that I didn't like it when he spanked me, and why didn't he spank me "properly" the way mother did? I don't think I was being a masochist, it was more that I was very aware of Daddy's awkwardness and not really knowing how to spank, which made me uneasy, whereas Mother knew exactly what she was doing and had me under her complete control when she spanked.

 
Spanking a preteener was (is) not considered a big deal, so I witnessed several of them, and had mostly my brothers as witnesses of mine, when I was at primary school. I admit, I loved being a witness, but I hated having witnesses (particularly as they were terrible teases).

The two youngest of my uncle, twins nearly five years younger than I was, were more or less our (my niece and me) own live dolls.  During apple picking, they had climbed one of the big ladders when the adults were resting and watching (these were still tall trees, with very high ladders). That was absolutely forbidden. They got both over the knee of their father. He was a tough but shy man, who didn't easily hit his children, but now he was upset, both because they had disobeyed a strict order and these ladders whipping in the wind in the trees were no child play. They both got around twenty five good hard smacks on their declothed seats, which was for six or seven year olds a punishment they should not forget soon. Their buttocks were as red as the apples they were picking.

They had dozens of witnesses - apple picking you do in large groups, as it makes the work easier. My niece and I sat on the front row of the spectacle, at one meter. I think we had mixed feelings, but still did enjoy it mightily.


 
Here a Story they was told from my father of many Famaly meetings. I was 4 Years old and we are in Holyday in Bavaria and we climp on Alm (have not the word in english, a Place on a Mountain with Cows and a littel retaurant etc).
Wore at that time one bavaria to leather pants and so a merry hat on the head.
We got to lunch at the Restaurant, sitting out and look at the nice Landscape. By the Meal my Eys are very mutch bigger than my month an i Ordered some to eat whos my Parents first say now. I begun to grumble
and my Parens want her peace and they allowed me. After the meal came up the tabel i eat 3 or 4 Forks fully and say than. I dont whant this i want an Icecream. My parents told to me that i hd to id what i has order and they not tolaret this. I dont want this and so i do what sometimes littel 4y old Girls do. After a lot of argue from me and nos and what ever i sayed when i was so sad my Father had enaugh and say to my that i get now a spanking for my bad behavior. He took me on his Arms and go with me to the back from the Restaurant, sit down on a Bank and put me fully clodes over.
In this Moment i say, no Dad it is better you spank me not. I have a Leatherpants on, this hurts on your Hand.
My Father startet louhging and answeret me. You are right sweeti, i will do what you say and protect my poor hand. Than he bared me and give my my firts and only public spanking. When we was readdy with my leasson we turn back to the table and our of the othere Guest says, nice Echo here. I dont was amused*lol*.

Lovly Greetings. Melanie


 
I have nothing but respect for my old headmistress, Mrs Sykes (not her real name) in spite of several painful visits to her office. Although she was strict she was absolutely fair and the few girls who complained about her were usually stinkers anyway. Although (or because) she had no children of her own, she had a deep interest in each girl and wanted the best for us. Her discipline was sometimes severe but she honestly wanted it to be for our own good. I certainly didn't think so at the time but I realise now how much good she did me. I dread to think what might have happened if I had gone to a permissive school.

I now remember her with great affection, despite the number of times I came out of her office with a sore behind!
She used to smack our bottoms with an old leather slipper that stung like anything. During an occasional lesson we had with her we asked her where she got it. She said, "I got it especially for naughty little girls like you!"   I was a naughty girl, so if my parents hadn't used corporal punishment I'd probably have been permanently grounded! It never did me any harm and I'm grateful to parents who took their responsibilities seriously. I always knew I was loved in spite of the smacked bottoms I got. Even at school, looking back, I'm grateful to my headmistress and the staff for the discipline they gave us. 
 


 
While we waited in the lobby, I started getting restless. I started climbing on the chairs in the lobby. That was a huge no-no with Grandma Joan. She was old-school, and expected me to act like a little lady. I got a stern warning to, "Knock it off, and behave myself." I tried my best to behave myself, but I was an active, restless little girl.

Grandma Joan had to discuss some insurance info. with the receptionist which left me with my 15 year-old Auntie Cindy. I started climbing on the chairs again. Auntie Cindy didn't try to stop me. I was also crawling under the chairs. When Grandma Joan came back she clearly wasn't happy. She smacked Auntie Cindy on the arm and said, "Why did you let her run wild?" Next, Grandma Joan pulled me out from under one of the chairs and put me over her knee. I got a spanking right there in the lobby in front of several patients, the receptionists, and other children. I felt especially embarrassed because I was wearing a dress and was sure that my panties were showing when I was across my grandma's lap. I cried and was angry with my grandma, but I listened and behaved myself the rest of the day.


 
I think spankings are far from dead today. I was shopping for clothes for my son, and looking at belts. The store wasn't very busy, and after finding a belt that would fit him, I picked it off the rack and folded it in half so it wouldn't drag or hang so far down to the floor. I turned around with the folded belt in my hand, and all of a sudden, and by chance, there was a girl about 10 yrs old walking down the aisle towards me not ten feet away, and I have this belt in my hand. Her eyes met mine and she looked at the belt in my hand and stopped, and put her hands behind her. I realized what was going on, and I think I scared her and startled her. She just stood there and looked like she was going to cry. I put the belt under the pair of pants I got my son and tried to deaden the impact of her seeing it. I said hello to her and smiled hopefully calming the kid down, because I knew by looking at her, she didn't know what to do. I can only imagine how she felt the poor kid. So, I think there are still kids out there getting spankings that know what other uses a belt has. I can still see that girls face in my mind. She was very surprised to say the least.
I was wondering why she wasn't with a parent, or another child. The store was not that crowded and no one was around me for about two aisles. I can still see that poor girls response in my mind. Her very quick stop after she saw the belt, then she looked right in my eyes, put her hands behind her, and her look of guilt. And it certainly looked to me like she knew she was in for it. Then after I figured out what was going on and said hello, she quickly carried on to where ever she was walking. It was one of those things where you didn't need any words to know what was happening and it happened very fast. I'll never forget that. I'm an older woman, and I wonder if sometimes that makes a difference in events like this. I would think if I were a teen, maybe nothing would have transpired.

 
I remember one year, possibly year 11, during the school swimming trials some of the girls were trying to flick each others legs and bottom with a towel after they had finished one of the heats that I happened to be in. I was not really involved but just happened to be standing nearby when one of teachers who I did not know but had seen before, possibly she was a swimming coach of some kind, called them over and spoke to them. They stopped for a while but when that teacher went away they started again and this time they tried to flick me just because I happened to be standing there. Naturally I started to flick them back with my towel since it seemed like good fun. The same teacher then came back and told us to wait for her in the changing room but to stay in our bathers. We started to get a bit worried because some of the girls had heard about her before and said that she might strap us. I never heard of the strap being used at my school before but was still a little worried. When she came back she did not have a strap so we were quite relieved. She then told the 5 girls (including me) to put our hands on our head. She walked behind us then gave each of us two very hard slaps across the back of each leg just below our swimsuits and four really hard smacks across the bottom. Since our swimsuits were still wet those smacks really stung. We were then told to change. I think I was the only girl who did not cry. I cannot remember ever seeing that teacher again after that and I did not even know her name.

 
I was a very high achiever at school, always at the top or near the top of my class and the competition was very good believe me. I only got punished for playing up in class and the only note that was sent home to my aunt was in the form of a lot of clearly visible smack marks across the back of each of my upper thighs. This made her see red which would result in my bottom being the same color after a very serious otk session or worse.

At school the main target was the top/back of each thigh which was always bare once your skirt had been lifted, so underwear was not an issue.

If you were called out to the front you could usually expect the standard 4 slaps across the back of each thigh. Private sessions by the senior mistress were either 6 or 8 across each. At home all otk sessions always consisted of 12 of the best with either open hand or hairbrush. On the few occasions when my aunt caned me it was 8 of the best.

Attitudes have certainly changed since I attended school in the late 1970s in the UK. If my aunt saw any hand prints on the back of my thighs it was more likely that I was in trouble rather than the teacher. And the only way she would be displeased with the teacher is if I did not receive more than the usual 4 across each leg. My aunt considered slapped legs at school a very mild form of punishment and would often provide a good follow up session on my bottom usually with a hairbrush.

Once my aunt, myself, and a good friend of mine who was staying with us, also about the same age as me, were out shopping and we were kind of playing up a bit and my aunt said "wait till we get home, I will sort you girls out!" or words to that effect. I oknew she was joking and went along with it. At first my friend laughed, because she thought it was a joke but I pretended to be worried and when we were alone she asked me if it was a joke. I was a good actress and convinced her that we were both going to get a very good spanking when we got home. She just went quiet and did not say another word until we got home. When we got home my aunt pretended to be angry and told us to go our rooms and wait. My friend then asked me what my aunt is going to do to us. I casually said that most probably we will be put cross her lap for 12 of the best with the hairbrush, no knickers. She really started to get worried then and pleaded with me to ask my aunt not to spank us. I could not contain myself any longer and burst out laughing and explained it was all a joke. Was she very relieved. She started laughing too. My aunt and I used to play this joke on some of my other friends. It was great fun. My aunt and I were so convincing that almost all my friends fell for it.


 
I knew three families where a wooden stick was always used on a bare behind – my own, my cousins (Fathers brother) and my best friends Sara and Walter. So based on that small reference group I never thought a spanking could be anything but bare bottom with a wooden stick. And the spanker was generally a father – at least in case of serious misbehaviour.
Sis and I both got our last spankings when we had turned 13 but not yet reached puberty. Was it particularly embarrassing to get it on the bare? No. All I could think about was how awfully it was going to sting. Obviously we hoped to keep our knickers up, as we believed it would sting less, but we never got a chance to know. This was the mid sixties with full width knee long skirts and petticoats, so lowering your knickers wearing such an amount of fabric was sort of a “dance of the 7 veils”. Not much to be seen and once we had bent over the foot end of the bed in the master bedroom and Father lifted our skirts out of the way we were so worked up that all we could think about was when the first stroke landed. I do remember one incident when I was about 12 and was wearing my new tightly fitting shorts when Father was going to spank me. Maybe it felt slightly embarrassing to slide my shorts down and stand stark naked from the waist down in front of my father, but my main concern was the imminent pain.

 
I remember one student teacher who was a bit more confident than most who made you stand at the front of the class with your hands on your head with your back to the class until she was ready to deal with you. There were usually about three or four girls lined up like this. When she was ready she just walked up behind you, lifted the back of your skirt and gave the back of both of your upper thighs a very good seeing to. Needless to say she did not have many disciplinary problems in her classes. However this was the exception rather than the rule. Most student teachers I encountered did not have a clue about dealing with naughty girls.

I remember one time, myself and two other girls were really playing up with a new teacher, eventually she got fed up and sent us to see the senior mistress Miss Adams, but she was not available for some reason and one of my other teachers was taking over her duties. This other teacher was not very strict and just gave each of us a few relatively light smacks across our bottoms with an open hand over our skirts. We decided to play a joke on our classmates and when we got back to class we pretended that we had been slippered and were rubbing our bottoms and pretended to cry. The teacher and most of the other girls were completely fooled by the charade and we managed to keep serious until the class finished and the teacher had left when all three of us burst out laughing. Nearly all our classmates admitted that they had been fooled and said it was a great joke. 

I remember on of of my many trips to see the senior mistress Miss Adams, she had her deputy in the office with her when I was called in. They were in the middle of some discussion and seemed very busy. Miss Adams was in a real hurry and decided a quick leg smacking was in order so she lifted up the back of my skirt and started going to work on the back of one of my upper thighs when she got a phone call and had to leave the room for some reason. She simply told her deputy to take over, who without batting an eyelid started to go to work on the same leg. I said that Miss Adams had already smacked that leg. She just told me to keep quiet and gave me a few more smacks on the same leg and was about to start on the other leg when Miss Adams came back and they both got into some discussion again completely ignoring me for a few minutes. The deputy then left but before she went she told Miss Adams that I had been cheeky. Which of course was not true. Miss Adams said "we will see about" that or words to that effect. She then lifted my skirt again and was about to go to work on he same leg when she noticed it had enough hand prints on it and went to work on the back of my other thigh. She was pretty angry and I do not remember how many smacks I eventually got but I am guessing that in total it was probably more than my previous record of 8 across each. There were certainly plenty of comments at PE later in the day since most of the hand prints were clearly visible below my gym knickers. Even Miss Smith who I really liked, took it upon herself to make smart comments in front of the other girls like " I don't think Amanda will be playing up this lesson" or "would you like me to freshen up those hand prints Amanda?" or something similar.I pretended to go along with the joke and laughed with the other girls but really wished miss Smith had kept quiet. Although I really admired Miss Smith, she did have a bit of a mean streak in her and I knew that if I did play up she would not hesitate to freshen up those hand prints.


 
I recall several public spankings in my life. One was when I was very young and was spanked for wandering off to the park. I think I was four. I can't really recall much about it other than being spanked by Mom on the park bench.

I was spanked once in the back seat of the car when we were at a drive in restaurant -- the type where you stayed in your car and your food was brought to you on a tray that hung from your window (Do they have nay drive-ins like that any more?) Mom was spanking me when the food arrived and she paused with me over her lap to fish the money out of her purse.

At age 8 I was spanked in the living room of the lady's house that was above the little mom & pop store that she ran. That was for stealing a comic book. Mom found it on our walk home and took me back there to give it back and apologize.

The second two spankings were bare bottom. I don't recall if the first one was or not, but I assume so because I can't remember any spankings from Mom that weren't.


 
My Mum's best friend, 'Auntie' Jean, used to have two girls roughly the same age as us. We lived quite close and played together often, so we sometimes got in trouble together. We were usually marched back to the respective mothers for punishment, but there was one occasion when Mum and Dad were away for a day and Auntie Jean was looking after us. We went somewhere we shouldn't and ended up over her knee. I felt sorry for my friends as she smacked harder than Mum! I later found out that each mother had the other's permission to spank. Auntie Jean sure used it on that occasion! I can feel it now!

Auntie Jean spanked us on our knickers but I was assured by her daughters that was only by way of concession as we weren't her kids. Usually with her own kids things got down to the bare essentials! I think I was about ten at the time. It wasn't usual but I know her kids got some slaps on the rear from my Mum occasionally.


 
Thankfully, all my punishments at home were kept within the family. Mum considered talking about our spankings to be telling tales out of school. I remember once Dad in company launching into a funny tale of a spanking I had got and Mum cut him really short. He apologised to me afterwards and told me it wouldn't happen again. It didn't, a fact I respected my parents for.

My parents spanked us in private, wherever possible, at least taking us into the next room, etc.
At school, most smacking was done in front of the class. I even remember one school trip being called to the front of the coach and bent over the teacher's knee for a smacking. Most embarrassing with the driver looking on. I hope he had his eyes on the road!


 
I have felt worse and much longer lasting pain at the dentist or when I fell on my bike or roller skates and hurt my knees. Yet the 15-20 seconds that a spanking lasted were what I feared the most and remembered “forever”. It was the whole set up. The expectation how awfully it was going to sting. I can still recall the horrible feeling of SLOWLY sliding my knickers down before bending over and it had nothing to do with embarrassment. It was the feeling of having to let go of the last protection. No wonder it's an effective punishment. It’s definitely “bearable” compared with many other unpleasant incidents in a child’s life and