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.

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.

[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 the teen years, just denial of privileges and groundings.

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 the bare bottom spankings and the 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 litearlly 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).

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 the motel room. So the boys heard much of my fruitless pleading about not taking off my bathing suit for the spanking, all of the 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 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, the most severe I ever received.

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 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.

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 the usual way in the master bedroom. Each and every guest heard it and when it was over he told us to reappear in the dining room to say good night to the 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 the 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.

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.

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.

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 the 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.

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 for looking at her wrong. All three have had problems in their adult lives with substance abuse, relationships and professionally.

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.

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 the 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.

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.

My dad rarely used the belt. When he did, he folded it. The 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 the 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'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 the family. One time daddy threatened to spank to her she said, "Oh, you want to thank me." My dad did not like the 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.

Between the ages of 6 and 7, I seemed to be easilly 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 the spanking.

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 the 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.

* 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 the clothes. If our parents thought what we did was especially naughty, we get our pants lowered for the 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 the belt. He gave us belt spankings over our clothes or underware. 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 occassion). 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 was a police officer and 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.

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?"

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.

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 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.

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 inconspicious. 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 the belt. She was still pretty little, so I remember her spanking didn't last very long. My dad didn't use the 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.

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.

I had skipped several classed 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.

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 the 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 the 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 falsly accusing me and then spanking me.

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. 

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 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 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 the spankings would begin -- usually in order of our ages beginning with the younger, 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.

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 the 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 wimpered 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 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 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 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.

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.

[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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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 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 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.

"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!"

"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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.)

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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.

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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?

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.

"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.

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.

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 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 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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!!!

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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 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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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 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 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 reme