"Suzie! Come into the house this instant, young lady!" 

  I felt anxiety clutch at my insides at the tone of her voice. It was clear that my little sister was in Big Trouble of some sort. After a few moments, I could hear Suzie scurry in the back door. "LOOK at you!" scolded Mom angrily, "You have dirt and grass stains all down your front!" My anxious tension increased. What was going to happen next? "What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?!" Suzie answered in a faint, pleading little voice; I could not make out the words. Feeling a mixture of sympathy for Suzie's plight and a guilty fascination with watching her punishment, if she received it, I crept quietly to the kitchen doorway while Mom continued to scold. When I got to the doorway and peered in, Mom was pulling up one of the kitchen chairs and sitting down to face my sister, still telling her what a naughty girl she had been to soil the  dress Mommy had worked so hard to make. Suzie was standing with her hands pasted across it's seat and squirming with anxious unease. She has blue eyes and chestnut brown hair, which were cut short in bangs in front with the rest tied back that day with a pretty yellow bow. The dress had short, puffy sleeves and a ruffly white bodice, and it was on the lower edge of her bodice that the grass stains and grime were most visible. I never found out what game she and the other children had been playing, but it clearly had involved her being face-down in the grass.

    Suzie was on the verge of tears, her lower lip quivering and her eyes moist. She kept saying "I'm sorry, Mommy. I didn't mean it!  I'm sorry!" while Mom admonished her, until at last Mom said, "Well you're going to be a whole LOT sorrier in a minute!" and hoisted Suzie face-down across her lap. Suzie cried, "NO-O-O!" and began to blubber as she was placed into the all-too-familiar spanking position. Through the back window, the face of the boy next door appeared, peeking in from the back yard to watch what was happening. But our mother noticed and ordered him to go home. He vanished from sight. Turning her attention back to Suzie, Mom said, "You have DISGRACED yourself, young lady," in a terse, clipped tone. Glancing back at the window again to make sure there was no audience, she pulled up Suzie's skirt, adding, "You are going to be spanked severely!" Suzie continued to weep, only able to stammer the words "no" and "please" as our mother turned up her petticoat as well.

    I was almost faint from suspense, wishing this weren't happening, yet filled with a strong need to watch every detail and commit it to memory. Although the spectacle before my eyes was utterly distasteful to me at that moment, I knew that at bedtime that night I would be guiltily scouring my memory banks for this image of Suzie across our mother's lap being bared for her spanking. The intensely pleasurable excitement would fill me with shame, yet I could never resist the temptation to indulge. I always strove to commit to memory every spanking I ever received or watched.

    "Put your knees together!" commanded Mom in a sharp tone. Suzie's legs were spread, which would have made it impossible for Mom to pull her panties down very far. Impatiently, she repeated the command, but still Suzie balked. SMACK! went Mom's open hand against  the inner part of Suzie's bare left thigh. "OW-WOW-OW!" cried my sister as the aftereffect of the slap throbbed and smarted. Again Mom ordered Suzie to put her knees together, and again she slapped Suzie's bare thigh in the same spot when my sister didn't obey. Suzie let out a tearful wail of pain, and I could see the beginnings of a red handprint forming on Suzie's milky skin from the first slap. This time, she obediently clamped her knees shut. With a quick, smooth motion, Mom yanked Suzie's panties halfway down  her thighs, covering the reddening handprint and uncovering Suzie's bare bottom in the process. Then she immediately raised her hand and began swiftly slapping my little sister's small, rounded buttocks.

    Suzie winced and took a deep breath as the first few swats resounded against the pale skin of  her bare bottom. Then she began to bawl with pain. The first couple seconds of her spanking sounded like: SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! WAAAAAAAAAAAH! From then on, Suzie alternated between long howls and deep heaving sobs, punctuated all the while by the crisp, steady cracks of hard palm meeting soft flesh. Mom's lips were still pursed with displeasure, but now her brow was also knit with either concentration or exertion. She did not let up, but continued to slap the little upturned cheeks with the same driving rhythm. Our mother firmly believed that spankings should HURT. And believe me, they did! She slapped Suzie's bare buttocks again and again - five... ten... fifteen... twenty... - driving the sting level  higher and higher, while Suzie wailed with ever mounting urgency. Although no more children tried to spy on the proceedings, they were surely all still out there, listening in hushed silence to every sound coming through the screen door.

     I felt terribly sorry for my little sister. I knew all too well what Suzie was going through, having experienced dozens of our mother's bottom blisterings myself. Meanwhile, Suzie did not need anyone else to tell her what a "spanking from Mommy" felt like. She was squirming and kicking from the knees down as her inflamed, little backside turned deeper and deeper shades of pink. Mom pressed her left hand down on the small of Suzie's back to hold Suzie as still as possible while continuing to swat her scorched little cheeks as relentlessly as before. From my own experiences across our mother's lap, I guessed that by now Suzie was not even perceiving the sensations  of distinct slaps, but rather a continuous searing burn as if scalding liquid were being splashed over every inch of her bottom. She certainly sounded like it. Suzie was crying really hard, her eyes clamped shut, her face flushed, and her mouth opened wide, as Mom spanked and spanked and spanked her sore, reddened bottom.

    Abruptly, our mother stopped spanking, pulled Suzie's little panties back up and smoothed her dress and slip back down into position while she continued to cry. Then, Mom lifted Suzie up, stood up herself, set my bawling little sister down in the chair, and then went to the sink and turned on the faucet. (Perhaps she was running cold water on her hand, but I couldn't see). While she did this, Suzie slouched farther and farther down in the chair as she cried, until she slumped down onto the cool tile floor and lay there on her side, still sobbing piteously and rubbing her rear end. After a few moments, when Mom turned around and saw her like that, she strode swiftly across the room, exclaiming, "You get up off that floor this instant! You bad girl!"  To my dismay, Mom knelt, took hold of Suzie under the arms, and then in a single motion, sat down in the chair and placed Suzie face-down across her lap once again. Suzie wailed with alarm as she realized what was about to happen, and tried to shield her bottom with her hands. But Mom took hold of Suzie's wrists with her left hand and pinned them firmly against Suzie's back. "Now you've gotten your dress even dirtier!" scolded our mother as she angrily whisked my sister's skirts back up and tugged down her panties once again. Suzie's well-spanked buttocks had blushed an even deeper shade of crimson by now, but Mom proceeded to give the two smarting little hemispheres over half a dozen hard, emphatic slaps in rapid succession, while poor Suzie roared with pain. This time, after Mom once again pulled Suzie's panties back up and sat her down in the chair, Suzie remained seated while her crying gradually died down..

    I had crept back into the living room and collapsed into the armchair, feeling exhausted, as the sound of my sister's crying continued to waft in from the kitchen. When Suzie had finally quieted, they had a mother-daughter talk, with Mom  stressing the importance of being a good girl, playing nicely and keeping her dress clean, and Suzie, between sniffles, promising earnestly to do so.