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 my 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 her bare bottom spankings and implements were unneeded at the time, her hand on my pants worked the same magic on my behavior. And as far as dads not spanking a girl's bare bottom, my dad preserved my modesty (as well as my brothers) and I am appreciative of that. The spankings coming from him were terrible enough since I was a daddy's girl and had so much admiration for him. Some men feel the same way, while their wives will spank a bared bottom... which I can understand without the sense of a double-standard. Mom's always feel physically different towards their kids than men do. They are literally a part of your body for 9 months, and that's something men will never get. I can see where the dad might want to not do anything that would seem inappropriate to the girl as she got older. Having said that, I don't think moms should do it either... I am against it... even though I got them. I wasn't embarrassed at the time because it was mom and me alone in my room and I was quite young, but looking back I do feel pangs of humiliation knowing I was in that position of complete loss of control over my physical being. Differently than my pants up spankings (which were the normal ones in our house).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 her spanking, but the me in control chose for us not to react to it. So I didn't.

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

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

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

I 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 my red spank marks. She said, "You must be allergic to spankings. Maybe I need to give you more." I felt like crying right then, but I didn't. I was the one most frequently spanked by my mom. While growing up, we just didn't get along. 

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

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

"I'll put you over my knee."

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

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

"You're itching for a spanking."

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

"I'll plaster your butt."

"I'm getting ready to whip you."

"Don't make me come over there."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 inconspicuous. I remember my sister crying and walking toward dad. Dad put her across his knee and pulled her pants and panties down. I found this very shocking because he'd never spanked me like that. He spanked my sister's bare bottom with his belt. She was still pretty little, so I remember her spanking didn't last very long. My dad didn't use his belt on us until we were around 10, and up until then, I don't remember him baring any of our bottoms for a spanking. He must have saw stealing and lying together as offenses that earned a bare bottom, belt spanking. As soon as my sister's panties and pants went up again, I was out the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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 our pajamas. Appetites and conversation were not great during the evening meal and the three of us would do our kitchen chores in total silence, glaring accusingly at each other in blame for getting us all into this mess. Then we would take refuge in our rooms for what was usually not a very long wait before one of our parents would summon us all to their bedroom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I 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 remember stretching my arms forward and digging my fingers into the crocheted bedspread to stay in place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As other posts have said, the sight of a girl's knickers in those days wasn't particularly rare, as it was standard for games lessons. But the performance here made this something else, and despite the warning there were several more expressions of "Cor!" Then we all watched, captivated, as the slipper crashed down on the girl's bottom. And yes, there were tears in her eyes when she walked back to her desk. So, arousing as well as entertaining? For some of the 7/8-year-old boys, I suspect yes.

Being the only girl and the baby of the family, to a certain extent, I was spoiled rotten, especially by my grandparents and my lovely brothers, and this meant that my behaviour when I didn't get my own way was pretty bad! I was an audacious kid and used to really push my luck, which was dumb when you think how much experience of child-rearing my parents had had by then. Also I think that having brought up all the boys, my parents had a slightly shorter fuse, and knew what worked best on one of their kids when she was really out of line! I do remember getting spanked once with the youngest of the boys, he got it first, and I listened - it was hard not to - and counted the number of spanks he got - twelve. When Dad came down to my room to spank me, I got several more spanks (probably because I was making more of a fuss about being spanked at all, I always did!) than he did. Several minutes later, when I was still howling about the unfairness of it all, my dad came back and told me to calm down now, quite gently, and I glared at him and told him how mean he was for spanking me more than my brother. Surprise, surprise, I ended up back over his knee and got several more spanks! I was furious about that one!

I wasn't ever spanked by friends' parents, but I do remember my mother telling a friend's mother that if I was disobedient or difficult while I was in her charge, that she had my mother's full permission and blessing to spank me. I was furiously embarrassed, hearing her say that!   BUT - as it happened, there was some trouble while I was staying over at their house, the usual sleepover fights, quarrels and rowdiness that comes with being allowed to stay up too late eating chocolate, and the following day, my mother, coming to take me back home asked if there had been any trouble. My friend's mother (I called her Auntie Ruth) was rather embarrassed but she admitted that there had been. My mother then said she hoped I had been punished for it, but Auntie Ruth said no, she had felt sorry for me as I hadn't done anything her twin girls hadn't done and she hadn't spanked them, either. I could tell my mother wasn't all that impressed with this answer, and so when we got home, I got spanked. I probably deserved it, but I was furious that I had been spanked when the other two hadn't.

None of my brothers ever spanked me - it just wasn't allowed, although I'm sure they probably wanted to on occasion. And I remember the eldest did threaten to once. I didn't take it seriously as a threat because we both knew that our parents would never allow it - they were the only ones in our house who were allowed to spank - although other adult relatives had that authority as well - I remember being spanked by my uncle and also by my grandparents a couple of times.

The boys were usually all warmly sympathetic when I was spanked, even if what I was spanked for was some crime I had committed against them. I remember one time though when I had been spanked and one of them came to see me in my room and said he was glad I had been spanked for being such a pain in the neck - what I remember was that devastated me even more than the spanking had. I was terribly upset that he said that and I heard the others giving him a hard time for having been "mean" to me - I did say, most of the time, I was their pet - and he came to apologise for having said it. I had it pretty good from my brothers - they were/are great!

I was spanked as soon as I got home from school only once. I knew it was coming, too! I was nine years old and going through a real smart-mouth phase, and my problem was I never knew when enough was enough. We had a class teacher who was still quite new to us, and she liked me, but one day I went too far. My school did not use CP - I don't know if it ever did, but it was against the law by then anyway - she gave me an after-school detention for the following day, and some lines to write, but she also said she would be phoning my mother. I must have gone white then, because I knew what that would mean. Later on in the day, she did tell me she had called home and that my mother was not at all happy with me. I think I started crying right then.

My school was close enough to walk home from, I usually walked with a few other kids who were going the same way, and if we went slowly enough, quite often, the boys, my brothers, who had to get a bus to their school, might be home before me. This was my one hope of salvation, because a few times, they were able to beg me out of a spanking. That day, I walked as slowly as I could, but of course, eventually I got home. My best friend, who lived further down the same street, Kate, guessed what I was feeling, but she couldn't give me any hope, either. When I did get home, my mother opened the door. We all had our own front door keys, but mine was usually at the bottom of my school bag, and I usually knocked out of laziness, and waited for someone to let me in. Not that day. I was still searching for it when she opened the door, and pulled me inside. I could see the boys' jackets and bags in the hall, but they were nowhere around - they knew what was coming and had gone upstairs. My mother pulled me into the living room - this was unusual because I was usually spanked upstairs in my own room or in my parents' room. But the first thing I saw in the living room was the hairbrush on the table. My mother was absolutely furious that a teacher had had to call home about me, and that was all she said before she put me over her knee. She never had any trouble lowering my underwear however much I was wriggling, and then of course she spanked me with the hairbrush. It was one of the most severe spankings she ever gave me, and one of the longer ones.

I suppose it worked like a charm though, I never mouthed off to a teacher or any other adult after that!

I think it would have been to embarrassing for anyone to knock during the spanking. Especially for the10 year old.

Just when I started to cope with my bottom stinging more than it had a moment ago, another slap would come and my behind would sting even more than that, until I was crying hard because it really HURT.

After a hand spanking was over, my sting would fade quickly. I would cry and rub my bottom for a minute or two, but after the first minute I was mostly crying from needing my emotional release, instead of from me being in very much pain still. It never hurt to sit down after a hand spanking. Actually the pressure on my bottom was comforting. My bottom would be pink, but that went away in a few hours or a day.

And if you were stupid enough to get into more serious trouble or just about any trouble close to recess time or the end of the day it was worse. I'll bet once or twice a week some boy (usually -- though girls weren't exempt) was kept in from recess or after school to be spanked. And these were delivered bare bottom... This was back in the early 50s.

All the while, Dad was yelling at me, "Don't you EVER do that again! Do you hear me?" Through my sobs,I said,"Yes!" over and over, but to no avail.

After about 25 paddle swats,Dad threw the paddle down and began spanking me with his hand. Man, he hit harder with his hand than the paddle! By now, he had pulled me so that my legs dangled off the side of the bed and my feet touched the floor.

After several spanks, he picked up the paddle and gave me several more swats, ignoring my shouts that he stop. Finally, he said something about how he hoped that I had learned my lesson. While rubbing my sore backside, I assured him that I had. The pain of that lesson stayed with me for the rest of the day.

After moving to Kentucky, my dad bought one of those aluminum storage sheds, and even though my brother, sister and I were never "taken to the shed" for our spankings. Both my sister and I both used it for spanking games with our friends.

20 minutes later my wife said she felt fine after she had spanked his bare bottom over her knee - don't think he did

Once, I was going to knock on the door and see if they wanted to play, but as I approached the screen door (it was summer and only the screen door was in place), I heard my friend crying and could partially see her across her mom's lap, getting the wooden spoon on her bare butt. I could also clearly hear the sound of the wooden spoon as it connected with her bottom. I felt kind of bad for my friend, but couldn't help linger and listen before taking off.

Another time I was over playing and the older sister did something to get into trouble. I saw her dad pull her over his knees and begin taking her pants down while he ordered us out of the room. She was probably 10 or 11 at the time. We could overhear the spanking and crying from my friend's room. She got the belt that day, on the bare as spankings were always given in that household.

He says that when he came into my room a few minutes later, I was kneeling beside my bed praying hard. While he lifted me across his lap and tucked up my skirt in back, he says I loudly protested that God had just forgiven me for being naughty and so God had just told me I didn't need to be spanked!

Daddy replied that God had indeed forgiven me. But that God just told HIM that I DID need to be spanked. 

And Daddy then carried out God's wish.

Mother told me that I would get a spanking immediately and asked for a spoon. I smiled at her, that made her more angry. Quite suddenly she took me over her knee.

I was awaiting a soft hand spanking and relaxed, but suddenly my bottom burned. She had removed her house sandals and spanked me with them.

These were flat wooden sandals with a very flat rubber sole. The flat rubbersole over the hard wood increased the pain on my backside extremly. After only five strokes I counldn't stand it anymore and I tried to protect my hiney with my hand. After a short warning she hit the sole of the sandal on my fingers. It hurt a bit, but I didn't remove my fingers. Then she flipped the sandal and slammed the sharp-edged wooden foodbed on my fingers. In less than a second my fingers were in my mouth, tears were in my eyes and I was screaming. In the meantime she was still spanking my bottom with the rubbersole again.

Since that time these sandals were her prefered spanking tool. The disadvantage for me was that I couldn't hide something that was always on my mothers feet. In later times she called the knock for removing my fingers from my bottom "backhand".

Her dad was a bit annoyed, but he got congratulated by everybody. Naughty children sometimes have to feel it.

Mother was furious. I was not allowed in the house, I had first to undress and to wash me in a tub in the frontyard. When the worst filth was from me, she came with a second tub warm water. I had kept my underpants on - hey, all the neighbours were looking and laughing - but mother stripped all off and sponged me further off.
The more they laughed, the more angry I became, the more everybody laughed. Being washed like a baby in a tile in the frontyard was really too much, so I turned my anger to mother.

I treated her on names I happily forgot, but which you shouldn't use, certainly not in that condition and in the presence of your father. He was red of laughing, but abruptly stopped lauging and became more red, not of laughing. Showing disrespect to your mother had never been a good idea, but showing disrespect to your mother in public was a capital crime.

So within seconds I landed over his knee for one of the better spankings of my young life, in public.

Before age 8, I don't remember many, but that might be due to selective memory. Between age 9 to 14, something around ten - two or three a year till age 11, one or two a year between 12 and 14. The last one was at age 14.

Under age 9, it was with the bare hand, over, it was with the jokari-paddle. At age 14, I got the switch (and that was the last corporal punishment). The average punishment was between twenty or thirty strokes. My father did certainly not hit very hard - he was a big, strong man but the light bruises disappeared soon (I bruise very easily, my sis would have no bruise at all) - but hard enough to "teach a good lesson". You had to cry and squirm to show it hurted - not too little (stubborn - harder smacks till you cried) or not too much (play-acting - harder smacks till you stopped).

In my country, most parents gladly admit they spank their young children.

As a little schoolgirl (the first three years of primary school, 6, 7 and 8), mama spanked me over her lap, sometimes on the underpants, mostly on my bare bottom. When I got older, I got the child whip, one lash over my thigh. I had to lift my skirt, and then mother would give me a quick but burning lash. The "child whip" sounds a bit medieval, ours was a small whip with 14 little leather like shoelaces. Except being very painful, it does no harm.

When I had done something very bad, like stealing or lying, or at secondary school, I got spanked with the martinet. I had to undo my underpants and bend over the stool, she lifted my skirt, grabbed me by it and whipped my seat and thighs until she thought I had had enough. After the first lashes have "enlivened" your skin, it feels as being hit by redhot copper wire (note that if you take the stoics, you won't take me). I suppose the pain is very superficial: the worst burning disappears over minutes. It will smart unpleasantly for a few hours, but after a good night sleep, you feel and see little of it.

The whole exercise took rarely more than half a minute. Something else than "it hurts, IT HURTS, IT HUHUHUHURTS. Ought I to cry harder or not so hard to make her stop." was not on my mind. Reflection immediately after considered my mother the worst of all tyrants. Maybe some days later I had to admit grudgingly that I was not free of all blame.

My poor Teddy bear got spanked when he was naughty since my first memories. Off course, he got spanked with a lot of love and sweet feelings. They threw him away when I was twelve, as it was considered too childish. I still hate my mother for it.

[Once] my mother had given me some extra exercises, as my French tests were poor again. I said I didn’t want to do them, but my mother answered that “wanting” didn’t live in her house. I got upset and said “If you had done some studies yourself, you knew you mustn’t force me to study as it will create aversion.”  That hurt, and I knew it. Mother was the smartest girl of her class, but had to leave school at eleven to help in the big household and the farm. Mother knew I knew it. Seconds later I was pantyless over the stool while the child whip (officially a clothes duster with 14 leather tongues, practically only used for child punishment) was licking my bottom, powered by an angry arm. After five or six stinging strokes – the ends sting like wasps – I howled “you can force me, you can force me, I will do my best.”

As a child, I needed my mother to keep me on my toes. Now, I would get psychiatric drugs as a child. Is that better? The martinet hurt my bottom, but didn't change my soul.

A martinet is called a "child whip", but its leather tongues are light. The dreaded sting is caused by the scratching tongues over the skin, not by its impact. Even underpants would take away most of the dreaded sting (why it is used over the thighs if the underpants are left in place).

When I got older, it was obviously very humiliating for a girl, to have her bottom bared for the martinet. It rubbed it in: you are still my naughty little child, and you have to obey.

During a spanking, I wasn't talked to at all. My parents spanked very quietly. Before I was given the usual scolding for my behavior, and was given an explanation to why what I'd done was serious enough that I needed to be spanked to learn a lesson. Immediately before going over the knee, I was reminded that if I ever did whatever I'd done wrong again, I could expect the same punishment all over again. Perhaps more!

My mom and dad always spanked us, while they sat on our beds, so they'd prop their left knee to the side, place you over their left thigh and your upper body would rest on your bed. I'm sure they had to place their other leg over my ankles to prevent me from kicking them in the shins. Also, their body would turn ever so slighlty to the side, preventing my hands from grabbing anything but their shirt. When my brothers spanked me, it was almost always the same way. A couple of times when they sat on a chair, I was placed across their "lap". This was also the way my grandma spanked me everytime. Across her lap. I MUCH preferred over the thigh, lying on the bed. You could cry into the quilt, and punch and grab as much blanket as you wanted. I never could control my hands when I was across a lap, and I know my grandma spanked my butt harder for reaching back.

My grandma (my mom's mother) who was a bit sterner (some might say meaner), would almost tease us while she spanked. She'd say things like, "well, you knew what would happen when you..." or "now who's the big girl who...lying here getting her bum smacked and crying" and the ones I hated most "well, you knew I'd get my slipper and whack you if you didn't listen to me" or WORSE even "oh come on, when your mum was your age, I would have pulled her over my leg and caned her bare bum for this. You're lucky". LUCKY, I don't think so. She did this to the boys too. We all hated it...and we really hated hearing her do it to the other one.

When I got spanked by a teacher (when I was in elementary school, ages 5-9), it was always when the other students were out of the room. You were held back during recess and spanked by the teacher across her knee with her hand or a small paddle. Afterwards, you were sent to sit at your desk with your head down. (A shaming sort of punishment I think). I would put my forhead against the desk and cry quietly (though hard) and watch my tears fall from my eyes to my knees (My head was at the very end of the desk so my tears didn't hit the wood). I NEVER could take a spanking without crying - hard. Even the times when mom (or dad or whomever) smacked the seat of my pants, once, for something I did wrong, I cried quietly somewhere where no one could see me... I wasn't brave at all.

But the "psychological" part was worse, much worse. The coats hung there. You kneeled there like a baby with your nose in the coats. Everybody who came in could see you were punished. Your skirts were covering your modesty, but you were very much aware of your hurting buttocks. And my older brothers teased me silly. If they were not older and a lot stronger, I would have murdered them.

Particularly as a young teenager, I loathed the corner more than the spanking. When I was 11 or so, the parish priest came in for preparation for the Holy Communion while I was kneeling in the corner, likely with a face as red as a tomato. My mother apologised, but the pastor said: "No need to apologise. You are doing only your duty. Children sometimes need to feel it." I could have died of shame, particularly as I was not a child, but 11 2/3 year.

Their mother a large and formidable lady would keep an eye on the activities from her kitchen window and would quickly appear if there were any sign of dissent or misbehaviour. My parents recall a time when 3 or 4 of the boys began to quarrel and fight. The mother appeared on the top back step arms akimbo with a strap held in one hand.

“ Fight you little beggars,” she shouted, “ and I’ll belt the winner!”

The fight finished as quickly as it began and the combatants dissolved into the distance.

She did appear from time to time with the strap and order one or another of her children inside for a dose of it, quite often encouraged by a whack or two as they went in. One summer holidays one of her daughters, aged between 11 and 12 must have been going through a rebellious stage and was ordered inside at very regular intervals. On one occasion, when we were playing in our own back yard my sister had the idea of eavesdropping on the whacking and suggested we go along the edge of our high picket fence close to the bedroom that the girl shared with two other sisters.

Having done this once we became quite fascinated by the sounds coming through the fence and repeated this on a number of occasions.

In our family being whacked was a fairly restrained if not irregular event. We took our punishment with out too much fuss and it was quickly and effectively executed without very little or no protest.

Next-door was quite the opposite. There was noisy scolding right through to the bedroom, much defiant argument and raised voices. My sister and I were always surprised at the level of answering back that we would never imagine doing. There was refusal to remove underwear and to lie over the bed. The volume would increase and the threats would escalate. Eventually the daughter would stop arguing and then start to plead. The pleading would increase, punctuated by yells of pain as each stroke of the strap connected. Between each whack her mother would lecture about what would happen in future if the behaviour persisted or command her daughter to turn back over. “ I’ve not finished with you yet!” After between 8 to 10 smacks, (my sister and I would breathlessly count each one), the daughter would be left subdued and her mother would leave breathlessly leave telling he that she would stay there till “supper time” or whatever the next meal might be.

Regarding the birching, the birch usually was put together with a few switches (maybe 6-8) from a birch or a willow or what was available. It was used very rare but I think that no child (or teenager which I was when birching was used) ever deserve a spanking with the birch. The stinging from it can't be described. Even when I was 16 I howled my head off already at the first stroke and try to imagine how I and my sister sounded after 10-15 of those.

Sometimes we were put over the knees but sometimes we also had to bend over a table. Usually my dad grabbed my hands while mom used the birch with full force.

Actually I think that spanking, even in the teens, may be an appropriate punishment but the birch should never ever be used. Being spanked with hands only on the bare stings quite sufficient I think.

When I was about eleven years old or so, and my mother had already switched over to using a paddle instead of her hand on me, I was promised a spanking for something or other and sent to my room to wait for it. Needless to say, I was nervous, and the longer I waited the worse it seemed, although in reality it was probably no more than twenty minutes. Anyway, I could not get my mind off my impending fate, which was assuming epic proprtions in my mind by then. So I hit upon the idea of folding up pieces of paper and stuffing them down the back of my underwear to try to lessen the sting of the paddle. I used pages torn out of a magazine. If I had used newspaper, I might have even gotten away with it...

As it was, when Mom came up with the paddle I bent over the bed as usual and held my breath, hoping that I'd successfuly pulled it off. And when the paddle landed the first time, it actually seemed to be working - it seemed to hurt only half as much. But after the second one, the crinkling sound of that glossy paper gave me away.

Surprisingly, my mother wasn't really that mad. She just laughed and said "Nice try, but get rid of it." So I had to remove the paper and bend over again so we could start over, but if anything I think it may have even made her go a little lenient on me that time. But all the same, I knew better than to push my luck and never tried that again.

She and her sister decided to pile on the panties. In telling the story she said they added nine extra pairs for a total of ten layers. I find this hard to believe but what she said next made sense. She and the sister went to the office, bent over and received the first lick. Everyone involved, the Assistant Principal and the witnesses said that "It didn't sound right."

Obviously the sound was deeply muffled by all the layers of cotton. My friend and her sister had to confess to the extra panties and were promptly escorted to a bathroom where they were required to change into "appropriate" attire. I don't think they got any extra licks but she said there was no comparison between the real thing and the padded ones.

I was so humiliated. My mother was actually going to spank me right in front of the babysitter! I couldn't believe it. Then, to make matters worse, my mother pulled my pajama bottoms and panties down to my knees. I didn't protest because I was so embarrassed, but after my mother began to spank me, I was bawling.

My mother didn't say a word to me. She focused on spanking my bottom as hard and as fast as she could. As my mother spanked, I kicked, squirmed, and helplessly cried my eyes out. My mother's hand failed to get tired, and my bottom was on fire. I could feel it turning redder and redder. My tears of embarrassment eventually turned to tears of pain.

I begged and screamed for my mom to stop. I didn't care anymore that my babysitter heard my pleas. I just wanted this spanking to end. As I was screaming, my dad told me that it was a good thing that he wasn't spanking me instead. He would have used the belt. I was getting what I deserved. How dare I misbehave for my babysitter.

I usually didn't want to see scarey movies, but I did want to see "The Bad Seed" because the idea of a scarey movie where a girl my age was the "monster" so intrigued me.

But my mother forbade me to go. She didn't think a "horror" movie appropriate for a child my age.

After some of my friends saw it and were talking about the spanking at the end of the movie, then I wanted to see it even more. But I didn't dare go against my mother's prohibition. I wanted to SEE a little girl getting spanked, not BE a little girl getting spanked!

I don't argue that he enjoyed spanking us (particulary girls, and the prettier the better), but I don't think this negates the utility and validity of spanking at school.

She produced the martinet and took the sheet off me. I had to turn over. It was a hot summer night and I was well dressed for it, wearing only a short nightdress that was quickly turned up. After five or six smarting lashes, she stopped. “These were disobeying me and going out without permission. But don’t you ever dare to lie to your mother or ignore me.” She whipped my seat with that martinet till my sheets were wet of tears and my seat a red burning mess. It still smarted a bit in Mass, but my conscience smarted too.

After age 10 I only got spanked once more - right after I turned 13. My mom used the hairbrush, as usual, and true to form I was bawling like a baby by the time she stopped. She set out to show me that she was still the boss even though I was now a teenager and her point was well noted.

Most of the spankings I got were from my mom with her hairbrush. I only got a few from my dad using his belt. When he spanked he only gave us a dozen or so spanks with the belt and it was over.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't like the belt at all, but when my mom spanked with the hairbrush she had you bare across her lap and she spanked very rapidly for at least a minute. I got far more spanks during a hairbrush spanking than when my dad spanked with his belt.

When I was 11 my mom remarried and I got a step father and step brother. My step brother Peter was about 8 months older than me and was at the next grade at school. My step father was a great man and I quickly bonded to him even before my mom and he married but then even stronger and I was glad to have him. Looking back I now think I was lucky to have him. However I also learned from Peter that his dad spanked with the belt. About two months after my mom remarried and we moved to live together Peter got spanked for the first time in our new house. I saw him taken to his room and heard the spanking and the crying soon. It sounded pretty hard and scary and I just hoped it won't happen to me too.

However soon afterwards I also got in trouble and the issue of discipline came up. I was brought for lecturing before both my mom and step dad and they said that they discussed discipline for Peter and me and decided it will be the same for both of us, same rules, same requirements and same punishments for both, and that if any of us was to be spanked it will normally be my step dad who will give us the spankings.

Few minutes later I found myself being taken by my step dad to my room. When there he took off his belt and commanded me to pull down my pants and underpants and lie down on the bed. It was the first belt spanking I ever got. I thought my mom's wooden spoon spankings hurt badly but I was to find what it means for a spanking to really hurt badly. My step dad's belt spankings were much worse than mom's spankings. Unfortunately I averaged 4 or 5 spankings a year for the next three years and it always was with my step dad's belt on the bare bottom.

It was kept in a desk in a corner of the family room where Mom did her sewing, scrapbooking and other crafts. We were strictly prohibited from getting into the stuff in or on that desk.

However, there were a couple of times when I was told to fetch the hairbrush. I can remember being told to go to my room (which was the usual place of spankings unless they were the heat of the moment kind) and told to pick up the hairbrush on the way.

Mom was the disciplinarian in our home, and the handful of spankings I got from Dad were nothing. He didn't like doing it and it showed I guess. The most serious spanking from Dad was once Mom was gone and he spanked me with his belt. I wasn't very old--but it was really nothing. I even faked crying hard so that he would think that he had done a good job of it.

Mom, on the other hand, was an enthusiastic spanker. She spanked often and spanked hard--almost always with the special hairbrush that was only used for spanking and I can not recall ever getting a spanking from Mom that was not on my bare bottom.

I wonder why it is that so often it is Moms that are the most "enthusiastic spankers?"

I used to hate the times I was told to grab the brush and go to my room. Of course, if my sister or Dad saw me with it, that was more than embarrassing. I didn't like having the dreadful weapon in my hand and would always lay it on my desk, while i sat on the bed waiting for Mom. I think that saved me the gut wrenching indignity of having to hand it over to her.

My spankings always took place in mum's bedroom. I was mostly sent to wait for her, unless she was really angry in which case I was led up the stairs getting my legs smacked all the way into her room.  Then always the same scolding, knicks down & over for her hairbrush.

I had been a little too loud on the journey to school and we were a week away from summer break so I was quite excited. The bus driver told me to wait behind and he took my name. Mid morning a monitor came to the classroom and my teacher announced that I had to report to the principal's office.

The principal scolded me sternly for not only for misbehaving on the bus but also for being rude to the bus driver and speaking back to him, which I hadn't done. My punishment was a paddling of five swats and 100 lines. I had to take a letter home to my parents to sign and I thought I would be going to bed with a very sore bottom. Dad gave me a talking too and said I was close to going over his knee but he didn't spank me. He punished me with a week of early bedtimes and no ice-cream after dinner. Mom drove me to school for our meeting with the principal. Girls had to wear either skirts or dresses to school so Mom ironed my thickest skirt, she prevented me from putting two pairs of panties on as our washing machine was broken and we didn't have a lot of money in those days.

We had to wait for a few minutes for the principal and then when the paddle was brought out, Mom left the office and one of the office ladies came in to witness the paddling. I received five swats and the last four I had to go over the principal's knee because I refused to bend over again after rubbing my bottom. After my paddling I had to report to class and Mom accompanied me, she washed my face , hugged me and kissed me telling me I had been a brave girl. I was very well behaved both to and from school from then on.

I could tell I was going to get an 'after school' spanking when I walked into my room and it was all neatly cleaned by my mother...and the leather belt used for spanking was laid out prominently on my bedspread.

The time came when we were in Jilly's room and we started playing House and making a bit of a commotion. We started jumping on Jilly's bed, Jilly and I were on it and the feet of the bed broke with a loud crack.

Mrs Rourke was upstairs in a flash, Jilly and I had hopped off the bed and when Mrs Rourke came, saw the broken feet beneath the bed and was furious she took Jilly into her bedroom and I heard Mrs Rourke order Jilly over her knee. Jilly was begging not to be spanked and then we heard the familiar cracking of a hairbrush on her bottom she was sobbing and crying.  She was really crying.  Then Mrs Rourke came back for Georgia, Hannah and I.

She marched us to her bedroom and she had her hairbrush on her bed.  She put Georgia over her knee and lowered her pyjama bottoms.  She spanked Georgia over ten times over her panties. Jilly was in a corner rubbing her bottom through her nightie and Georgia was sent to stand next to her after her spanking.

Mrs Rourke called me over to her and I sobbed even louder so she had to put me across her lap. I wore pyjamas and the bottoms came down while I was over Mrs Rourke's lap. It was a fairly painful spanking, she had a bigger brush than what my mother did. I was sent to an opposite corner to Jilly and Georgia.  And then Hannah received her spanking.  She had on a nightie as well.  She received her spanking with a minimum of fuss unlike the rest of us as her father generally used the belt on Hannah and her sister and brothers.

Jilly had a younger brother so god knows what he was thinking.  He was with his father downstairs and was standing at the bottom of the staircase as we were marched back to Jilly's bedroom.

As soon as we had cleaned the mess we had made, it must have been a sight the four us one hand clasped over our stinging bottoms as we tidied the room. As soon as we were in our made up beds and sleeping bags the lights were switched off and we sobbed ourselves to sleep.

All seemed to be forgiven the next morning as we dressed for church as our parents would be taking us home. We had a quiet breakfast.

Mrs Rourke told our parents what had happened and that she had given us a spanking. Georgia's mother didn't seem too impressed with her daughter being spanked, but my mother was fine with it and I had to apologise to Jilly's parents.

Mom told me I would be going over her knee after lunch. Mom gave me her traditional spanking after I had finished my lunch and I had to spend the afternoon in my bedroom.

The next day was school and during recess we were playing hopscotch and it became clear that Georgia and Hannah had earnt a second spanking from their fathers after church.

Hannah didn't feel she deserved it.  I know Georgia was disappointed she had been spanked. As for myself, it was one of my more memorable spankings and I probably did deserve my stinging bottom. As I had been warned previously about such activities my punishment was justified. Georgia and Hannah probably had their spanking while not jumping on the bed they were raucous as Jilly and I were.

We lost Georgia to cervical cancer about ten years ago, but Hannah, Jilly and I are still the best of friends and play tennis together.

I told the teacher that my daughter had told me that you weren't giving them spelling tests for the rest of the year, you were giving them a writing assignment using the spelling words instead (ok my daughter had me wrapped). So after I told the teacher it would be ok to have her do the make up tests and hung up, I called my daughter into the living room for a conversation. 

First I asked her about the spelling tests which and she still held onto her story. Then I asked her about the note from her teacher. She also denied it. Then I told her that I just got off the phone with her teacher and that's what we were talking about. Then she started crying. She finally admitted to lying to me about the tests so she wouldn't have to study. Then to throwing the note away. I asked her why she hid all that from me.. and she told me she was afraid I was going to spank her for getting bad grades. I asked, "Have I ever given you a spanking for failing a test? She said, "No". Then I asked, "So why do you think I would have spanked you this time." "I don't know" I told her I would have made her spend more time studying until her grades were up... She asked if she was in trouble and I said, "You better believe you are.  But it isn't because you failed some tests, it's because you lied to me about the tests to get out of studying, hid the note from your teacher, and then lied to me again tonight." 

So I informed her she was getting a spanking, and after 15 minutes of melodramatics she finally pulled her pants and panties down and lay across my lap. I told her before I started I would give her three swats for lying about the tests, three for throwing the note away, and four more for lying to me tonight (using only my hand). It was all over in less about five or six seconds and she ran to her room crying. About five minutes later she comes out and asked, "Daddy can I have a hug?" I told her "of course you can" and then let her sit on my lap and cry it out. She promised she wouldn't do it again afterward. We did have to repeat the lesson only one other time and that was when she hid her report card when she'd made an F (in spelling).

The paddle was applied with my skirt raised and it wasn't noticed that I was wearing two pairs of panties for my paddling as I had worn rhumba panties for my second pair, these were larger and covered more of my bottom. I attempted the same trick a year later and was found out so the principal took the second pair down with an office lady present. Mom didn't attend that paddling but she spanked me again that night.

One night I practically begged my father not to spank me after my paddling, I had received five swats at school and my bottom was still quite tender.  He put me over his knee and lifted my nightie and I was in tears trying to cover my bottom but instead of spanking me he slapped his hands together and told me to cry out which I did.  He slapped his hands together about 20 times. Mom came up and all she saw was me lowering my nightie and Dad standing up so she thought I had been spanked. Dad sneaked me a hot chocolate before my bedtime and he stayed with me until I went to sleep and that one of the times I felt truly close to him.

The first spanking I remember was with my older sister when we had misbehaved at Church one Sunday morning. My younger sister was still in diapers but she was walking and talking. Dad told the two of us that he was going to spank us when we arrived home and upon our return we were sent to wait in opposite corners of the family room. Dad went upstairs and brought down the hairbrush he and Mom used for spanking, he called me over to him and I began sobbing as he put me over his knee. I had a short dress on so he didn't have to lift my dress too high. 

Mom was holding our younger sister and Dad began my spanking.  After I was sent back to the corner he spanked my older sister and she was sent back to the corner until lunch. We were both spanked fairly soundly and we spent lunch shifting on our sore fannies as we sat at the table.  The tradition of the youngest being spanked first continued when my younger sister had her first spanking.  She and I were spanked by Mom together for not putting our dolls away when Mom had ordered us to. Generally if two of us were in trouble we were spanked in front of each other and the youngest received her spanking first. I really hated seeing her spanked knowing that I was going to be next and I felt the dread that my older sister must have felt when she was watching me being spanked. In typical middle child fashion I was spanked more than my sisters were.

I grew up in the 1950s and 60s and spanking was the main form of punishment for my two sisters and I.  Both of our parents spanked us but I received the most from Mom. We mostly wore skirts and dresses usually with a petticoat and Mom always lifted our skirts and petticoat when she spanked the three of us but she didn't take our panties down and Dad followed her example. Even the big panties we wore in those days didn't offer much protection from the hairbrush we were spanked with and when we were spanked we were spanked soundly and usually sent to the corner to think about what we had done. 

A few of my friends were spanked bare bottom and our grandmother did spank the three of us bare bottomed on one occasion and she spanked me one more time bare bottomed.

I don't know why our parents chose to spank us over our panties and not bare bottom. As a mother I spanked my daughters and son over their underpants as did their father. My grandson has been spanked and my eldest spanked him over his underpants as well.

Maybe it was an unstated family tradition,

Mom was holding our younger sister and Dad began my spanking.  After I was sent back to the corner he spanked my older sister and she was sent back to the corner until lunch. We were both spanked fairly soundly and we spent lunch shifting on our sore fannies as we sat at the table.  The tradition of the youngest being spanked first continued when my younger sister had her first spanking.  She and I were spanked by Mom together for not putting our dolls away when Mom had ordered us to. Generally if two of us were in trouble we were spanked in front of each other and the youngest received her spanking first. I really hated seeing her spanked knowing that I was going to be next and I felt the dread that my older sister must have felt when she was watching me being spanked. In typical middle child fashion I was spanked more than my sisters were.

First their mother was scolding them (yelling acutally) which attracted all the kids in the neighborhood and soon there was about a dozen of us gathered on their front sidewalk. The mother then took this huge Belt and grabbed the older girl and pulled up her dress. She then proceeded to mercilessly whip her hiney over her panties with that belt as she screamed and cried.

After a long strapping for the older girl she grabbed the younger girl and whipped her in the same manner. All of the kids just stood there spellbound. When it was over, the girls had to sit in their car - of course they were bawling like babies which continued on for several minutes. The rest of the kids just moved on to another yard for bike riding or playing.

For those two it was NOT "a wonderful day in the neighborhood" and for me I just kept thinking how lucky I was that I didn't get spanked that day. Even though my mother spanked me with a hairbrush now and then I was glad that this other woman was not my mother as I would not have wanted to get whipped with her strap.

While she was fixing her hair, I jumped up on the vanity next to her and begged and pleaded her to take me along. When she refused, I spit in her hair. She screamed for mom and chased after me, so I ran into my room and hid under my bed.

When she told my mom what I did, she was furious. She reached under my bed and yanked me out by my arm. I knew she was going to spank me, so I started screaming and crying and tried to get back under my bed, but mom had a really tight grip on my wrist so I couldn't move hardly at all.

She reached under my dress with her free hand and pulled my panties down to my ankles, then turned me over her knee and started smacking my naked bottom.

She had just started when my sister's friends pulled up in the driveway and walked up the the screen door. I guess they were a little embarrassed by what they heard, because they just tapped really weakly at the screen door as if they weren't sure what to do. Mom stopped for a second and called out from my room for them to come in, and that my sister would be there in a minute. Then she started spanking me again.

I guess I was yelling and crying too loud to hear them go out because after she was done they were already gone. I thought my sister's friends were cool and I looked up to them, so I was really embarrassed for them to find out I got spanked.

In some ways my earlier experiences with spanking ruined my relationship with my mother. I was a hard-headed, stubborn little girl. I was the youngest of three children. I was a Daddy's Girl for a while, but I butted heads with both my parents. They expected instant obedience, and many times were not understanding of young children and their quirks. In some respects they were unreasonable in their expectations.

I was frequently teased by my older brother and sister, which resulted some retaliation on my part. My father worked long hours as a police officer, and my mother had the mind-set of a 1950s housewife. I grew up in the 70s and 80s by the way. My mother kept our house immaculately clean and organized. She was always busy with cleaning, cooking, baking, church activities, and helping our grandma and grandpa. If I wanted her attention, sadly, I usually resorted to acting out. I was almost always spanked for my misbehavior.

Off course, particularly in our living room, the neighbours could hear everything we got, too. That was the traditional fifteen to thirty seconds of smacks raining down on your bare seat. Our dad was a big bloke with hard hands, and at older age we got the jokari paddle. I indeed still remember the sound of the very first smack of the jokari paddle: the sound hits your ear a fraction of a second earlier than the real pain, I guess. It was incredibly loud, like a gunshot. It made indeed the pain even worse.

I received the ruler on my hands from the headmistress and the hairbrush on my bare bottom from my grandma over her knee.  The second time the headmistress had to suspend me for 2 days, she made me kneel in the corner of her office with my hands on my head and called Grandma to come pick me.  After what seemed like an hour Grandma came. I waited outside the office til Grandma talked with the headmistress, then we took off. Grandma didn’t say a word on the way back home. When we got there, she told me to fetch a fresh long switch from the tree before getting in “because she will teach me a lesson in respecting teachers” I was already crying and scared to death when I was picking it, I went inside the house and found her waiting for me in my room, I was ordered to lift up my skirt, take my panties off and bend over the foot of the bed, then she started switching me hard and fast on my bare bottom down to my thighs.  It was very thin and burnt so bad.  It kept landing endlessly and I was wailing, pleading and promising to be good.  After it was finally over she hugged me and comforted me till I stopped crying, then she made me SIT while she talked to me for an hour about my behavior, which was as bad as the spanking itself.

Switching was definitely the worst punishment for me, thank God I only received it twice in my life, I hated it even more because the welts took several days to disappear completely.

I was promised a spanking by Grandma many times, usually for acting up in public or doing something dangerous.  When I was younger and used to throw those big tantrums she used to put me in a time out, but that usually didn’t work and she would give me that look and tell that she will deal with me when we get home.  I always knew what that meant... I remember once I was 8 and I was close to getting it on the spot.  We were at a mall and I was running off here and there and even disappeared few times.  In short I was driving her crazy, she was almost gonna take me to the rest room to spank me but then she controlled herself and promised me the spanking once we get home, and I went over her knee once we were home and received a sound bare bottom spanking.

I had a more embarrassing experience when I was 12 and Grandma had some friends over, I came in to say hello and one of her friends asked or said something to me and I gave her one of my smarting-off rude comments. Grandma immediately said “LEENA COME HERE” I knew that tone of voice meant trouble, I came to her, she slightly bent me and gave me two swats on my clothed bottom, then she told me to apologize to the lady and go my room and stay there cuz I will get a spanking later.  I was so embarrassed, I apologized with teary eyes and went straight to my room. After they all left grandma came up with her hairbrush, I certainly received a hard bare bottom spanking.

I only got spanked once for misbehaving in church.  It was memorable enough.  I was about 8 years old and I was really acting up, talking and giggling with a friend of mine, and I didn’t stop even after several warnings from my grandma (very stupid I know). On our way home she was really upset and told me that she owed me a spanking for the way I’d been acting.  I cried and apologized but still went over her knee once we got home.  She pulled down my panties for the first time in my life for a spanking.  The sting was really bad and I was crying long after she was done with me.

I remember once getting spanked before going to school, I was 3rd grade. I gave my grandma a very hard time and wouldn't get out of bed or get dressed.  I kept telling her that I didn't feel well and that I didn't wanna go to school. After several warnings she lifted me up and placed me on her lap, took down my pj bottoms and gave many hard spanks on my panties.  After letting me up again I was ready to go get dressed for school!!

I made the mistake of telling my Grandma once “That didn’t hurt!!”   That was when I received a spanking on my panties for not doing some chores.  Although the spanking was hard and I was sniffing when it was over, I was so mad at her for spanking me for something that I have forgotten to do.  ( I really haven’t forgotten my chores I just ignored them and she was completely aware of that).  So when my spanking was over I wanted to show her that it didn’t matter to me at all. As I said it was a big mistake, because I went right on her lap again, but this time I received a bare bottom spanking with much more swats than the usual, I was a total crying mess when she let me off. That one definitely did hurt!!

As a student I always gave my teachers a very hard time, it wasn’t easy for an active daring girl like me not to get herself in trouble at least once a month. CP was held only by the headmistress or her assistant, which was either a paddling or ruler on the hands. Grandma usually received phone calls or notes from school about my bad behaviors and the punishment I have earned, she also knew about them whenever she attended parents’ meetings. That usually earned me spankings as well as other punishments like groundings or corner times. Grandma never spanked me for bad grades, only for bad behavior. Those spankings were usually done the same way, bare bottom over her knee with the hairbrush. But I did get more severe spankings when I was suspended (which happened twice).

Anyways, the embarassing wait before a spanking was like torture to me! I can remember sitting there and waiting with that anticipation feeling in my stomach, and a slight tingle on my bum because I knew that soon it would be exposed and spanked. For me I think the worst part of the spanking was that waiting! Can anyone else still "feel" that physical anticipation?

Although I am ashamed to admit it, one summer when I was around 8 or 9 my 7/8 yr old younger brother (with whom I was very close, but always bickering with!) had gotten a spanking for doing something to me. We were playing outside after dinner and I was trying to impress a friend of ours who was 1 yr older than me and told them "Marky got a spanking from my mom before." I remember the friend giggled and my brother ran into the house. Of course the second I said the statement I felt guilt about "outting" my punished brother to our friend. The guilt wasn't the worst of my problems, though, as my mom came to the back door and called out my full name, telling me to come inside. I knew I was in for it. I was told that if I was so interested in someone else's spanking than maybe I needed to get one of my own. Right there in the kitchen I got a bare-bottom spanking across my mom's knee. While Marky went back out to have a grand old time with our friend I stayed in my room to try to hide from the embarassment of my spanking.

I can say without a doubt I deserved that spanking for blurting out something that was so embarrassing to my brother though.

My mom wasn't one to fly off the handle and spank without warnings normally, but I think she was just having a tough day with us for one, and it was because I was embarrassing my brother by letting another person in on his punishment. It was just kind of a mean thing to do, and we wouldn't even really make fun of each other after spankings alone, so doing it in front of someone else was not tolerated by my mom.

After a little while she came in with her ruler in hand, she reminded me again of how disappointed she was in me then ordered me to pull my panties down and bend over the bed. Once I was in position she lifted my skirt up and started spanking me with a steady pace, applying much harder swats on my sit spot, I dreaded Grandma’s ruler so much and I was crying from the first swat. I received about 25-30 with it and when she was through my bottom was hot and very sore, I had difficulty sitting all day and some marks were visible till the next morning.

I got spanked because I had succeeded my sister in “cheerleading a teasing squad” that “mobbed” a young apprentice that sat in the window of the tailors’ workshop on the ground floor with five or six other tailors and “patronising staff” was a HUGE NO in our family. So after my spanking that had entertained my listening peers below in the yard my father led me downstairs into the tailors’ workshop and I had to run the gauntlet down to the apprentice who was just a couple of years older than me past five or six male tailors who had just heard me HOWL MY HEAD OFF in the bedroom right above the workshop.

The nuns of my school were not allowed to spank (till their great regret, I believe), but they promoted home spankings for bad notes at school. At primary school, we had weekly colour cards. There were three notes on it: the sum of homework, tests and behaviour that week. Gold was excellent, red was good, orange was mediocre, yellow was poor, green was terrible. So we knew who had done badly, and as girls we were always very curious what had happened to the victims of a yellow card (green was rarely given, implied serious problems).

A second yellow card (for me orange, my parents had been very poor as children and valued good marks highly) meant a "hard spanking". At age nine, ten, eleven, the most common tariff seemed to be between twenty and two dozen stinging strokes with the half yard ruler or the paddle on the underpants or bare bottom applied with moderation. A second session would be a lot worse, so in general, we were very well drilled girls.

When I was four, I remember getting bored during one of the services and started acting out. My parents gave me several warnings. I was acting silly and playing around on the floor, which was a no-no. My mother picked me up and whisked me off to the lobby. She said, "You are in trouble and I don't care who sees you getting a spanking." Mom put me across her knee and started spanking my bottom. I started bawling, fussing, and throwing a fit. My mother held me on her lap and was trying to get me to quiet down and behave. I was angry with my mommy and really started throwing a tantrum. I thrashed around and kicked while on my mommy's lap. I heard my mother whisper, "Do you want another spanking?" I paid no attention to her. My mother picked me up and whisked me into the coat closet, a private little room off to the side. Inside with the doors shut and nobody around, my mother flipped up my dress and pulled my panties down. I got a bare butt spanking because I didn't behave after the first spanking. 

I was crying and carrying on because she gave me some hard stinging slaps on the butt. I was also carrying on because I was frustrated and angry with my mother. No kid likes to be spanked. I think if my mother let me sit beside her, rather than trying to force me to sit on her lap immediately after the spanking, I would have settled down. It turned into a battle of wills, and even though I was (still am) stubborn, my mother knew how to let me know who the boss was. My mother once again sat me on her lap in the lobby. This time, I did settle down and behave.

I do recall telling the mom of a friend that spanking did not "work with me." She smiled, pulled my pyjamas tight, and gave me a sample spank with her hand, and said, "The second spanking will work." I remember being very impressed with her demo hand spank and thinking "hmmmmmnn, there could even be a third spanking."

My mother, on the other hand, liked to cover a rather larger target area.Of course she had the advantage of being able to see where she placed each stroke but I could always expect at least a couple on the 'sit-down' part, depending on the offence. She also liked to take her time and pause for a few seconds after each one, to make sure I felt the full effect of its sting. All the same, I would rather have had six from her in the privacy of my own room than three from the Head in her study in front of the school secretary acting as a witness.

I had to fetch the cane from the umbrella stand in the hall and bring it to my Mum before taking down my knickers and bending over the chair in my room. It felt as though all the eyes in the house were looking at me.  The usual number of strokes for any of us siblings was six on the bare bottom but my last (and worst) was twelve from my father for a serious error of judgement when I was 15. I was allowed to keep my knickers on for that but that didn't really help.  My mother was something of an early feminist and believed strongly in equality in opportunities and discipline for girls.Of course, when she was caning my bottom I did not think of it as advancing her cause. Except on one occasion when my father thought he had to make an exception, Mummy handled all discipline for my sister and I.

Some of my friends parents used the cane at home, some didn't. In one family I knew only the boys got it. Canes were sold in most hardware stores and some toyshops. Ours were specially bought in London and were supposed to 'sting without bruising'. Although my parents were of the 'no nonsense' school of child rearing typical of their class and culture we knew we were greatly loved and accepted their discipline accordingly.We all turned out well.

It was an inner-city school (K-8) in the late 50s and early 60s, and the nuns hit us all the time.

In school, for serious spankings it was most commonly The Dustbrush, which was heavy and wooden and was reserved for very serious offenses. You felt it through your clothing, so they could give it to you in front of the class and make an example of you without any immodesty. It was kept in The Cloak Room with the dustpan and brooms (and our boots and coats and other outer clothing), and Sister would send you back for it and you had to bring it up to her desk and then return it after your walloping was over. It would usually be just three or four, but they would be very hard.

At home, it was just Mama and me in a very small apartment, and Mama was a "do it yourself" type who would get The Strap (which was right there in her bedroom) while I got myself ready, taking my skirt off and tucking my slip up so Mama would have a clear shot at the back of my thighs. It wouldn't be that many, sometimes maybe even just one across each leg, sometimes as many as three or four, but every one smarted.

The thighs hurt so very much more than the behind, which was the purpose of a Strapping, and Mama could also Strap me on the bare thighs without offending modesty, of which both she and the Sisters were always most respectful.

Besides, The Strap didn't really very much mark me, not like the cuts or weals a switching would have left, and I never wore anything like "hot pants" (occasionally jeans, but mostly below-the-knees skirts), so my thighs wouldn't be visible anyway, except in a swimsuit. And a Strapping would be accompanied by GCs (grounding and chores), so I wouldn't be wearing a swimsuit for a week or more anyway.

The minute we arrived home the four of us were lined up in the hall for a gigantic dressing down about going out of boundaries and stealing and quite unexpectedly Mother grabbed the wooden shoehorn out of the umbrella stand and “invited” Sara into the master bedroom. Judging from Sara’s bawling Mother did a very god job when she delivered the only real spanking of her life. When Sara came out and lined up again Father got the shoehorn and led Walter into the bedroom. He was as vocal as his sister and when he was back in line Sis and I were called in together. Father followed standard procedure and told Sis to lower her knickers and bend over the metal foot end of the bed after which he lifted her skirts out of the way and delivered 8-10 stinging slaps with the wretched shoehorn while I stood on wobbling knees watching what was in store for me.

On one occasion I tried to think of something extra good to volunteer to do as soon as we got home. I hoped she would quietly let me do that instead of put me over her knee. Just as we approached home I cheerfully declared that I wanted to polish our best silverware now. Our best silverware really was made of silver and would tarnish and not look its best if not polished from time to time. Mother praised me for offering to do this extra chore without her needing to ask and she told me what a very good girl I was.

Once we arrived I dashed straight in and fetched our special occasion silverware while she got out the polish, a piece of oilcloth and a rag, and together we set everything up for me on our kitchen table. As we did, I hopefully acted eager to begin, angelic well-behaved little helper that I was!

I almost imagined my plan had worked and that I truly would get to polish silver instead of get my bare behind polished. But no sooner did I attempt to sit down and begin than Mother gently restrained me and stooped to my eye level to remind me again how pleased she was with me. She then declared, still smiling, "you may polish the silverware later, Margaret... after you've been spanked." She uttered those terrible words with her same pleasant tone, pronouncing the final four words a wee bit more slowly as if for emphasis.

For me it felt as if our brightly lit kitchen had suddenly gone dark and ominous. Before I'd quite had time to react to this abrupt change of affairs she added, "come with me," took me by my wrist and whisked me straight to my room. There she placed me over her knee, pulled down my panties and spanked me - every bit as soundly as she had earlier promised me she would.

And once I had finished crying and we had prayed together, I still had to go straight back to our kitchen, sit my poor little bottom down, and polish all that silverware!

"Connie, darling, you must always tell Daddy the truth," and then gave the seat of her heavy pleated skirt a sharp little swat, firmly enough to be a real spank but not very hard. Connie cried louder, but she still cried an "I'm sorry" cry more than a "that hurts" cry.

If my father had caught me telling him a lie he would have had me over his knee by now with my skirts turned up in back. And he would be giving the exposed seat of my thin little panties one slow, hard spank after another with his big, heavy hand while I bawled and kicked my legs in pain. Indeed, for telling my father a lie at that age, a licking with my father's belt would have been a real possibility.

Connie's father bit his lip and reluctantly drew back his paddle and said, almost apologetically, "No more fibs from now on. Understood?" Again he swatted her, no harder than before. Through her thick woolen skirt and whatever she had on underneath I guessed that her father's paddle probably did hurt her, but just a tiny bit. If he had spanked her any less forcefully it could almost have been a game rather than a real punishment. But Connie was crying deep sobs of remorse and she wasn't faking.

"Only the truth!" he said, and gave Connie another restrained little swat. A pause, then, "Daddy means it!" he added, and gave her one last swat, slightly harder than the others but still not terribly hard. Then he set aside the paddle, sat Connie on his knee and held her while she cried and said she was sorry several more times. When she had mostly quieted down he asked her what she would do next time and she promised she would tell Daddy the truth and ask permission to do her homework later when she had a friend visiting instead of telling Daddy a fib.  And she sounded as if she really meant what she said and wasn't merely reciting what she thought she was supposed to say because her father had just spanked her.

Quite unlike my active sister who might get it up to 3 or 4 times a year and who nevertheless seemed to forget about them shortly after and even took the risk of getting one into account whenever she CHOSE to misbehave. I don’t hesitate to claim that I got “half of my spankings” because of Sis’s, “Oh come on Anna, don’t be such a wimp."  So one might ask the question whether CP worked with a tomboy like her? I'm quite sure it did. She would have been even wilder.

The rule in our house was get spanked in school get one at home also. The first time I was paddled was in second grade. And of course, they called and notified my Mom.

When I got home, Mom immediately brought it up. I can still recall the scene. We were in the kitchen. Mom said something like she could not believe it, was disappointed or something like that. Then she was quiet for a bit, and I thought it would pass (even though the rule had been mentioned several times in the past).

After a period of silence she asked me to show her my rear. I thought I had sat on something and turned around. She grabbed me and whipped up my skirt and underwear down. Mom commented "It doesn't look like it was much of a spanking."

I was then sent to my room to await one of her spankings!!!

Now I am merely curious.  But back when I was little this would have been a matter of great importance for me.  I would have listened raptly to any story you might have shared with me about how a Mommy may be successfully lobbied into pardoning her daughter after promising her a spanking later on.  If my mother ever changed her mind or forgot after promising me a spanking when she got me home, I can't remember.  All I can recall are times when I was on my best behavior or lobbying her with mounting urgency all the way home, only to there find myself across her knee with my panties pulled down receiving my payment in full.

We'd really been quite bad that evening, keeping coming down with excuses, but when we saw the look on Dad's face we bolted for our lives. I think we thought if we just got to the bed we would be safe. We slept together on bunk beds at the time and I remember my sense of panic as I climbed the ladder into the top bunk. About a second later, Dad arrived quite breathless from the chase. We thought we were certain to have our bottoms smacked, but I think Dad was quite amused by the terrified looks on our faces and just told us off with threats of dire consequences if....... I tell you, after that scare we didn't stir all night!!

The two youngest of my uncle, twins nearly five years younger than I was, were more or less our (my niece and me) own live dolls.  During apple picking, they had climbed one of the big ladders when the adults were resting and watching (these were still tall trees, with very high ladders). That was absolutely forbidden. They got both over the knee of their father. He was a tough but shy man, who didn't easily hit his children, but now he was upset, both because they had disobeyed a strict order and these ladders whipping in the wind in the trees were no child play. They both got around twenty five good hard smacks on their declothed seats, which was for six or seven year olds a punishment they should not forget soon. Their buttocks were as red as the apples they were picking.

They had dozens of witnesses - apple picking you do in large groups, as it makes the work easier. My niece and I sat on the front row of the spectacle, at one meter. I think we had mixed feelings, but still did enjoy it mightily.

Lovly Greetings. Melanie

I now remember her with great affection, despite the number of times I came out of her office with a sore behind!
She used to smack our bottoms with an old leather slipper that stung like anything. During an occasional lesson we had with her we asked her where she got it. She said, "I got it especially for naughty little girls like you!"   I was a naughty girl, so if my parents hadn't used corporal punishment I'd probably have been permanently grounded! It never did me any harm and I'm grateful to parents who took their responsibilities seriously. I always knew I was loved in spite of the smacked bottoms I got. Even at school, looking back, I'm grateful to my headmistress and the staff for the discipline they gave us. 
 

Grandma Joan had to discuss some insurance info. with the receptionist which left me with my 15 year-old Auntie Cindy. I started climbing on the chairs again. Auntie Cindy didn't try to stop me. I was also crawling under the chairs. When Grandma Joan came back she clearly wasn't happy. She smacked Auntie Cindy on the arm and said, "Why did you let her run wild?" Next, Grandma Joan pulled me out from under one of the chairs and put me over her knee. I got a spanking right there in the lobby in front of several patients, the receptionists, and other children. I felt especially embarrassed because I was wearing a dress and was sure that my panties were showing when I was across my grandma's lap. I cried and was angry with my grandma, but I listened and behaved myself the rest of the day.

At school the main target was the top/back of each thigh which was always bare once your skirt had been lifted, so underwear was not an issue.

If you were called out to the front you could usually expect the standard 4 slaps across the back of each thigh. Private sessions by the senior mistress were either 6 or 8 across each. At home all otk sessions always consisted of 12 of the best with either open hand or hairbrush. On the few occasions when my aunt caned me it was 8 of the best.

Attitudes have certainly changed since I attended school in the late 1970s in the UK. If my aunt saw any hand prints on the back of my thighs it was more likely that I was in trouble rather than the teacher. And the only way she would be displeased with the teacher is if I did not receive more than the usual 4 across each leg. My aunt considered slapped legs at school a very mild form of punishment and would often provide a good follow up session on my bottom usually with a hairbrush.

Once my aunt, myself, and a good friend of mine who was staying with us, also about the same age as me, were out shopping and we were kind of playing up a bit and my aunt said "wait till we get home, I will sort you girls out!" or words to that effect. I oknew she was joking and went along with it. At first my friend laughed, because she thought it was a joke but I pretended to be worried and when we were alone she asked me if it was a joke. I was a good actress and convinced her that we were both going to get a very good spanking when we got home. She just went quiet and did not say another word until we got home. When we got home my aunt pretended to be angry and told us to go our rooms and wait. My friend then asked me what my aunt is going to do to us. I casually said that most probably we will be put cross her lap for 12 of the best with the hairbrush, no knickers. She really started to get worried then and pleaded with me to ask my aunt not to spank us. I could not contain myself any longer and burst out laughing and explained it was all a joke. Was she very relieved. She started laughing too. My aunt and I used to play this joke on some of my other friends. It was great fun. My aunt and I were so convincing that almost all my friends fell for it.

I remember one time, myself and two other girls were really playing up with a new teacher, eventually she got fed up and sent us to see the senior mistress Miss Adams, but she was not available for some reason and one of my other teachers was taking over her duties. This other teacher was not very strict and just gave each of us a few relatively light smacks across our bottoms with an open hand over our skirts. We decided to play a joke on our classmates and when we got back to class we pretended that we had been slippered and were rubbing our bottoms and pretended to cry. The teacher and most of the other girls were completely fooled by the charade and we managed to keep serious until the class finished and the teacher had left when all three of us burst out laughing. Nearly all our classmates admitted that they had been fooled and said it was a great joke. 

I remember on of of my many trips to see the senior mistress Miss Adams, she had her deputy in the office with her when I was called in. They were in the middle of some discussion and seemed very busy. Miss Adams was in a real hurry and decided a quick leg smacking was in order so she lifted up the back of my skirt and started going to work on the back of one of my upper thighs when she got a phone call and had to leave the room for some reason. She simply told her deputy to take over, who without batting an eyelid started to go to work on the same leg. I said that Miss Adams had already smacked that leg. She just told me to keep quiet and gave me a few more smacks on the same leg and was about to start on the other leg when Miss Adams came back and they both got into some discussion again completely ignoring me for a few minutes. The deputy then left but before she went she told Miss Adams that I had been cheeky. Which of course was not true. Miss Adams said "we will see about" that or words to that effect. She then lifted my skirt again and was about to go to work on he same leg when she noticed it had enough hand prints on it and went to work on the back of my other thigh. She was pretty angry and I do not remember how many smacks I eventually got but I am guessing that in total it was probably more than my previous record of 8 across each. There were certainly plenty of comments at PE later in the day since most of the hand prints were clearly visible below my gym knickers. Even Miss Smith who I really liked, took it upon herself to make smart comments in front of the other girls like " I don't think Amanda will be playing up this lesson" or "would you like me to freshen up those hand prints Amanda?" or something similar.I pretended to go along with the joke and laughed with the other girls but really wished miss Smith had kept quiet. Although I really admired Miss Smith, she did have a bit of a mean streak in her and I knew that if I did play up she would not hesitate to freshen up those hand prints.

I was spanked once in the back seat of the car when we were at a drive in restaurant -- the type where you stayed in your car and your food was brought to you on a tray that hung from your window (Do they have nay drive-ins like that any more?) Mom was spanking me when the food arrived and she paused with me over her lap to fish the money out of her purse.

At age 8 I was spanked in the living room of the lady's house that was above the little mom & pop store that she ran. That was for stealing a comic book. Mom found it on our walk home and took me back there to give it back and apologize.

The second two spankings were bare bottom. I don't recall if the first one was or not, but I assume so because I can't remember any spankings from Mom that weren't.

Auntie Jean spanked us on our knickers but I was assured by her daughters that was only by way of concession as we weren't her kids. Usually with her own kids things got down to the bare essentials! I think I was about ten at the time. It wasn't usual but I know her kids got some slaps on the rear from my Mum occasionally.

My parents spanked us in private, wherever possible, at least taking us into the next room, etc.
At school, most smacking was done in front of the class. I even remember one school trip being called to the front of the coach and bent over the teacher's knee for a smacking. Most embarrassing with the driver looking on. I hope he had his eyes on the road!

My father used to briefly hug me and pat my head once a spanking was over and I loved this sign of the slate having been wiped clean. If I did have a grudge against my parents after a spanking (I rarely had as I didn’t get spanked unjustly) it would be Mother who decided [I should be spanked] rather than Father who spanked.

I too remember my spanked child sticking closely to me for some time after a spanking. I’m sure anti spanking physiologists can get something negative out of this like unhealthy submission or whatever but I choose to see it as a healthy situation where boundaries and a natural mother/daughter relationship and who is in charge have been re-established and the child wants to show that she appreciates being forgiven and back in the flock or herd.

I was a "Daddy's Girl." When my daddy would come home from work, I'd run to him. He'd pick me up and love on me. Well, that day was no different. I ran to daddy for some loving. I didn't see my mother talk to my father, but she probably did when I was being rambunctious with my brother and sister.

I heard my daddy call my name. He was in his chair. He sounded calm, so I thought he was going hold me, or talk to me. When I went over to daddy he picked me up and put me over his knee. He lowered my pants to spank me on my underwear, so it really hurt. I was really angry, because I felt tricked.

I think my father actually had more discipline quirks than my mother. While growing up, my dad would occasionally thump our heads to get our attention. Daddy was an ear grabber. OUCH! My father was also quite formal in some ways. He insisted that we call him, "Sir." We were not allowed to get up from the dinner table, until we asked to be excused. In certain non-spanking incidences, my dad had been known to give my brother push-ups or sit-ups. When it came to my sister and me, he would assign some extra chores around the house. We didn't like being thumped on the head, but I think all of us absolutely hated having our ears grabbed. Luckily, that didn't happen too often. Both got our attention.

I grabbed a cereal box off the shelf when my mom wasn't looking. My mom met someone she knew in the aisle as I threw the cereal box in our cart as well as a few other things that I wanted. That aisle had a lot of things designated for children!

As we were checking out my Mom noticed 'additional' groceries and whispered to me 'You young lady, will get a spanking when we get home'. And sure enough she did just that. 

Embarrassment had little to do with it, especially when I was young. While all spankings hurt, I particularly feared one on the bare bottom. These would have an intense, constant pain both during and shortly thereafter. When I was nine or ten, I think embarrassment and loss of dignity played a part, bare or clothed.

I had a note from one of my teachers that needed to be signed by a parent. I was around 8 or 9. It wasn't that bad of a note to bring home but I decided to forge my mom's signature on it. It would have worked but unfortunately at the next parent/teacher conference the issue on the note came up and my teacher was quite surprised when my parents couldn't recall the note! When they got home my dad had me bend over my bed for a dose of the paddle. It wasn't bare but my panties weren't any protection! I never even thought of doing that again!

The last bare bottom spanking I got was age 11 with the wooden spoon. It was exactly five whacks. I checked a short time after and it had left oval shaped pink-ish-red marks. I checked again a while later and there were just a couple of faint, light browning marks. I also checked once when I was 11 or 12 after getting the belt over jeans and there was just a slight bit of pinkness.

Always we heard a loud 'QUIET YOU TWO' from dinning-room, it was our one and last warning. A single noise, giggle or thump that could reach Dad's ear, it would mean that in a few seconds he'd open the room door already holding his slipper. And a brisk spanking was delivered to each of us.

Of course, a deathly silence would follow the punishment and it's a fact that going to bed with a red and hot bottom helps you to sleep.

There was never any embarrassment about it, spanking were just a matter of fact that kids were spanked.

My sister and I were almost always spanked on our panties, a couple of times over clothes, never bare bottom.  The thin cotton that made up my panties did nothing to protect my bottom, it hurt a lot.  I saw her get spanked, and she saw me get spanked. We usually saw each other spanked by Mom.  She was more likely to spank us then and there, no matter who was around. Dad was more likely to take us to our bedroom to spank us, but even he spanked then and there a few times.

I remember stealing a candy bar from a neighborhood store when I was 8, the man who owned it was friends with my dad. I felt so guilty about it I went home to where I kept my money and went to the store and confessed to the owner, in tears. I went home to wait for Dad to come home, when he did I ran to him in tears and confessed to him, telling him I knew I needed to be spanked. He smiled at me and told me he already knew, as his friend had called him to let him know. He said he was proud of me for doing what was right, and that he would try not spanking me this time. I never stole again.

Only once did I get spanked wrongly. I turned in a major report that my teacher said I didn't turn in, and since it was a major part of my grade, she called my parents to let them know. Mom and Dad asked me about it, when I insisted I turned it in they thought I was lying. Dad spanked me for not doing my homework and lying. An hour later my teacher called back and said she was sorry, she found it in her brief case.  When she called to let my parents know she found my report Mom said something like, "oh no, she was just spanked for that." Mom and Dad did apologize for not believing me, and spanking me when they shouldn't have. My teacher also baked me cupcakes as an apology for getting me spanked. I did forgive my parents, it was an honest mistake.

True to his word, he came running out the door and gave me a well-deserved stand-up hand spanking. It was over my clothes - but it still hurt and of course I was crying and blubbering. I'm sure it wasn't more than ten smacks - and probably actually less, but of course just as it is for any kid while getting spanked, it seemed to go on forever and couldn't end soon enough for me.

It was the first (and only) time he ever spanked me - although he threatened it with me on a few occasions. My "test" had proven that he meant business, so I didn't set out to repeat that experiment!

This was in the backyard, and in the middle of summer, so no doubt neighbors in their yards or even in houses with the windows open could have seen or heard it - and I'm sure at least someone(s) must have, but no one ever said anything, and no kids/friends that I knew lived around there at the time. But really, all that wasn't even on my mind at the time. I was too busy feeling pain and feeling sorry for myself and most of all crying and trying to get my breath while wondering when it would be over (since I was unfamiliar with his spanking style) - the possibility of "witnesses" was really the furthest thing from my mind.

However Dad was more subtle when we screwed up in public, he usually bent down to whisper to us 'Preparate cuando llegemos a casa' 'Get ready when we came home.'  And he would go on like nothing had happened, it was really scary because he never forgot about it. Indeed, our behaviour after that single sentence was best of the best so I guess his way was better than mom to keep us in line outdoors.

When i wasn't being paddled i was very doted on. I was loved and well taken care of. Mom was too strict but her love was excessive as well. When i was a child i never remember feeling rejected. I did fear her paddle. I was a very well behaved child, respectful, and self-controlled. The most important lesson i learned from countless paddlings was self-control. I was truly spanked too often but I have always known how to wait and how to control my emotions - maybe too much.

My mom was very liberal on how much she spanked. I was raised very strictly and paddled for any and all transgressions. Never was i spanked excessively at any one time but if i didn't "toe the line" that paddle was used. My manners were impeccable as a child and i was brought to gatherings and performances from a very young age. My mother would set up training sessions so I could practice proper behavior and if i slipped during these sessions i would be spanked.

My mom had this flexible plastic paddle. It was the size of a wide ruler but about 1/4 inch thick and sturdy but flexible enough to cause a wicked sting. She also spanked slowly, a few seconds between each swat. She only spanked 1-5 times in any one session but it hurt more than any quick 10 swats guaranteed.  I can never remember her not using that paddle. It was plain, white, with rounded edges, very smooth, and somewhat flexible.

My mom's paddle was kept in her purse. When we were home and i did something to warrant being paddled she would sit in her wingback chair that had a small matching ottomon and say "go get my purse." I knew i was in for it. My mom's only form of discipline was that plastic paddle. I would have to bring her her purse, hand it to her, then i knew to lay over the ottomon so my backside was in perfect spanking position. Quietly mom would tell me why i being spanked lift my dress and slowly land 1-5 hard swats on my backside. She would spank the same spot, this was torture after the second swat. Then i would be sent to the corner to think about behaving.

Mom didn't remove clothing, she didn't have to as i wore dresses and she liked to spank my outer thigh just below the hip.  It is a very sensitive area.  If i was over the ottomon i was spanked on my cotton panties which was no relief as mom just spanked harder as the angle was perfect for a slow, precise lesson. The clothing that i wore left my outer thigh always available - always dresses, and i never wore tights, only knee socks that had better be pulled up.  Up to about seven, my dresses were short, worn with matching bloomers. Her paddle would leave a red raised welt for a couple hours. 

My family expected much obedience from us children. If we were told to wait while my parents conducted business it meant sitting still and quiet. I don't know how long we had to sit but it seemed like hours. When i was young this lesson was learned after frequent spankings.  Mom planned this to get me to a place of obedience so she could bring me anywhere; which was true she could bring me anywhere without worry of mischief.  This is because of these practice sessions. I would be taken to her friend's beauty shop and sat down on a chair and told to sit quietly. My mom would go about her business and if i began to squirm or get up she would quietly escort me to the car, tell me i was being spanked for not obeying, then pull up my dress and soundly smack my bare leg with her plastic paddle she always carried. Then while i was crying she would return me to the same chair with the same instructions. Anyone in the waiting room could see my red leg and see my tears but mom always acted as though she was doing her duty. But by the time i started school i could be brought to any store or meeting. I remember wanting to get up or speak out but the knowledge of mom's paddle was enough for much self control.

At home i was spanked lying over an ottomon on my panties. Out of the house I had to place my hands on my head. Mom would reach her left hand around my torso gathering up my dress and preventing me from reaching my thigh, then with her right hand paddle my outer thigh. This prevented me from moving too much but in reality i was far too disciplined to resist my mother's chastisement. Frequently i would be sent to the corner if we were at home or in my mom's office. If we were shopping or out i would be required to stand quietly beside my mother. If my crying became excessive in my mother's estimation the procedure would be repeated.

Public spankings did not bother my mother: department store lounges, parking lots, pool sides.  The only place my mom made me wait is if we were at the theater i think because we went to live performances and she didn't feel it would be appropriate and the car was too far.  The few times i transgressed some rule the anticipation of her paddle as soon as we reached our car ruined any joy the performance could provide.

The pain was the worst. At first you would hear the smack then just a second later the pain would start and it would get more intense. Then about the same time the pain was the worst the next smack would land right on top of the previous by the third spank. Your whole self is on agony mode. If i was receiving five spanks it was torture. Now standing in the corner after being spanked was embarrassing if we had a guest or if i was at my mom's office. In the corner i had to stand with my hands folded in the small of my back facing the corner but not touching the walls.

Our school didn't use CP, but my mom, i'm certain, liked to spank. My third grade teacher i think liked it too because i got a lot of poor reports from her. All my teachers were told by my mother that a poor report would be quickly dealt with at home with a paddling. Some of my teachers gave me a little extra grace but not my third grade teacher. She was like my mom, any little thing and i would get marked down. If i got a poor report from school or anyplace i would receive all five swats.

Our panties were always taken down whenever we got a spanking.

1) The threat. This could be anything from a threat of a slapped hand to a bare bottom spanking with the belt.
2) A slap or two to the bottom or hand.
3) A more formal spanking. This involved bending over something and taking 5-10 swats with an implement. It was meant to cause tears and cries of pain.
4) A bare bottom spanking. My mom saved these for when we had been especially bad, got in trouble at church or school, or repeat offences. Usually around 10 swats with an implement, often the belt, these were meant to be considerably worse than #3. They were.

Marks from being spanked at school were generally looked upon with admiration as 'war wounds'. Most people knew you'd been spanked anyway as most spankings were in front of the class. However, if your parents had spanked you at home, then you didn't want other people to know as that marked you out as a 'little girl'. I know Mum used to make sure she shut the windows before giving me a spanking! She used to say, 'I don't want the whole street to hear you've misbehaved.' I always appreciated that, though not what followed!

I don't think my Mum really thought about it beyond it hurting more. I never got a set number of smacks or anything like that, she just smacked until she thought I got the punishment I deserved, and I think she just viewed spanking on the bare as a way of getting to the deserved punishment point more quickly. Maybe she thought having protection just wouldn't give the same impact but I never asked.

We never made much of a big deal about bare bums in our family, so I was never embarrassed by it. My parents never spanked in front of anyone though. Nor did they ever even really consider the bare bottom part of it I guess - whenever we were going to get a spanking they would pull down our pants. It wasn't even an issue to them, a spanking always meant on the bare bum. I never even thought that other kids got spanked on anything but their bare bottom until I talked to a few friends.

And they never held back with that awful wooden spoon. I think pretty much every one of my spanking had me shrieking in pain. Frequently the spoons broke on my bum, come to think of it they must have gone through a lot of them.

All part of growing up with fundamentalist christian parents I suppose.

I remember I was talking with my sister, who slept on the bunk below mine, when we were supposed to be sleeping. My Mum came in, and since I was the oldest, I got the spanking (I don't know how that works?) She just pulled me over one side of the bed and smacked and smacked my bottom. Now, this was very painful as it was, but she decided a few minutes later that since I was still yelling and not going to sleep that she'd give me another one, though all it made me do was yell and cry even louder and for longer, putting off my sleep till later and later. Fortunately she decided that spanking for crying over a spanking was probably not the best idea and never did it again.

When we reached the porch Auntie looked at me and said "corner!" I quickly went inside and stood perfectly facing the corner that was by the coat closet wondering if I was next. I could hear Cathy getting her backside repeatedly whacked, it seemed to go on forever. When i heard Cathy being sent to her bed i remember the sinking feeling right before you know your gonna get it. But nothing was said to me. The house got quiet as Cathy stopped crying in her room and Auntie took care of the groceries. I stayed in the corner until my mom arrived to get me and then Auntie told her what happened. Mom called me over and scolded me then required me to apologize and ask Auntie if mom could spank me at her house. (?) As was Mom's custom, five really intense spanks. i had to lean over the arm of the couch then back to the corner until the adults finished chatting.

Once i was being babysat, and i was excited about new clothes that i had been told to save for summer camp. Well my mom being gone i thought i could wear them for a little while then put them back. Well my babysitter had been informed. She made a deal with me; if i spent the afternoon in the corner she wouldn't tell my mom. (I think she just didn't want to mess with me). A little while before my mom was to arrive home i was put to bed. The next day mom told me i was getting spanked for disobeying her -- i complained "she said she wouldn't tell! i stood in the corner all afternoon!" Mom assured me the babysitter didn't tell but i know she did. Mom said "go get my purse" this meant to put her purse by her chair, lean over the ottomon and wait. whenever i got into trouble by anyone other than mom it was an instant five. True to form, five intense swats over my thin panties all landing on the same spot about five seconds apart. This doesn't sound as painful as some of you others but mom's paddle was dreadful.

Disobeying comes in degrees. I could be spanked for kicking my feet agianst a chair because i was bored while waiting for my mom in a meeting. This happened frequently when i spent boring days while my mom worked. I could be taken to the ladies lounge at Macy's for touching things while shopping with my mom. I remember one christmas i must have been seven or eight and we had been shopping trying on Christmas dresses etc. Mom was looking for matching socks and I was looking at stuffed animals. I took one to hold which caused a few to fall. My mom said "please pick those up." She then calmly walked to the counter to ask the saleslady to hold the items she had choosen, gently took me by the hand down the escalator through the women's department where we entered the women's lounge. There were chairs and a couch. I knew i was going to get spanked and tears welled up in my eyes. Mom didn't say a word. She just took the paddle out, lifted my dress, and spanked my outer thigh really hard five times pausing between each swat only to land the next right when the sting from the previous was at its worst. I remember i cried really loud by the third spank and mom stopped, instructed me to cry softly, then gave me two more smacks. My dress covered the welt that was raised. We returned to our shopping, my leg throbbing, while i was measured for dress shoes that i wore to The Nutcracker.

Her parents were much more strict then mine, but she also had lots and lots of material things. I was jealous of her. I also envied how calm her parents were when they spanked her.

My most memorable spanking was the only time I ever got spanked by my step-dad.  My step dad was a really big, loud, gruff, talking man, but was very gentle and caring, and for the most part I had him wrapped around my finger, cuz I was his little angel... But this one time, I was about 8, and I was at a birthday party with my older sister. My older sister was teasing me and picking on me so I decided to leave and walk home across town by myself.

Well then on the way home, I got sidetracked playing with some people from school, and didn't get home until about four hours after I had left the party.  My dad was sooooo mad at me...and he was lecturing me...for a really long time.  I would of probably gotten off being grounded, but after about a half hour of listening to him, I rolled my eyes...and that was it.

He said, "Don't you roll your eyes at me!" and that he was done talking, and took me in my room and used his belt on me, probably about 8 times.  I don't remember it hurting, but it was very traumatic for me, and I was bawling from the moment I knew what was going to happen. I never did roll my eyes at him again.

True to his word, he came running out the door and gave me a well-deserved stand-up hand spanking. It was over my clothes - but it still hurt and of course I was crying and blubbering. I'm sure it wasn't more than ten smacks - and probably actually less, but of course, just as it is for any kid while he's getting spanked, it seemed to go on forever and couldn't end soon enough for me.

It was the first (and only) time he ever spanked me - although he threatened it with me on a few occasions. My "test" had proven that he meant business, so I didn't set out to repeat that experiment!

This was in the backyard, and in the middle of summer, so no doubt neighbors in their yards or even in houses with the windows open could have seen or heard it - and I'm sure at least someone(s) must have, but no one ever said anything, and no kids/friends that I knew lived around there at the time. But really, all that wasn't even on my mind at the time. I was too busy feeling pain and feeling sorry for myself and most of all crying and trying to get my breath while wondering when it would be over (since I was unfamiliar with his spanking style).

It was kept in a desk in a corner of the family room where Mom did her sewing, scrapbooking and other crafts. We were strictly prohibited from getting into the stuff in or on that desk.

However, there were a couple of times when I was told to fetch the hairbrush. I can remember being told to go to my room (which was the usual place of spankings unless they were the heat of the moment kind) and told to pick up the hairbrush on the way. And I hated it.

When the spankings were not spur of the moment, Mom was actually kind of clinical about the whole thing. At times it even seemed eerily cold.

All the investigation and lecturing was over, and I sat for a few minutes knowing what was coming. Mom would come in with the hairbrush, and I was expected to pull out the desk chair, bare my behind and bend over the back. Nothing was really said, except my cries and sobs. It ended when Mom said "ok you can get up." She almost always then told me I could go wash up.

But after that she was always there to hug me and talk gently about hope I learned something, or etc. So I do think I felt closer to her at that time. And would often make an extra effort--like asking if there was something I could do to help, etc.

The "clean slate"--that is one of the great things about spanking--compared to drawnout things like time-outs and grounding--or incomplete things--like yelling, lecturing.

Mom still has her hard plastic pink back brush, and it is still kept in the bottom side drawer of her desk in the family room--as her grandchildren are very aware of!!!

After she'd finished I'd be left to pull up my pants and cry it out on my own, while she acted as if nothing had happened.
I'd usually be grumpy for awhile, but then eventually I'd come out of it and usually go up and talk with her or hug her.
Pretty much anything that involved being close to her.

One reason it was never used for anything else was if one of us took it out of the drawer, Mom would say. "That better get back in there when you're through, or I'll assume you want me to use it."

When corporal punishment became more of a "formal event" in our household, about the time I was 9 years old, we were told that if we chose to fight our punishment it would result in a second spanking for that defiance of their authority. I was spanked on a few occasions for my original offense and a second time for resisting or fighting the first. (Fighting the punishment meant that I refused to get into the proper position initially or remain in the position for the duration of my punishment.) This would sometimes take place with two separate instruments -- a switch and the belt were the favorites of our parents.

Once when I was getting spanked with the switch by my mother, I knocked her in the face while trying to escape the lashes from the switch. Mama stopped and send me to my room while she called my dad to come home. He whipped me with his belt for not cooperating and accepting my punishment from her.

During these years, formal spankings took place in our parents' bedroom. Sometimes my parents (both were usually present) would leave the room and return a few minutes later after we calmed down from the first to administer the second spanking. There was always a definite end of the first and beginning of the second so that we were clear on exactly what we were being spanked for.

If he wasn't using his big hand to warm my bottom, my dad either used a large wooden bath brush or the implement he made himself. It was a strap---a three-fingered tawse to be precise---that he fashioned out of an old well-worn garrison belt. He cut the belt into an approximately 15" strip then cut 6" fingers into the end. When applied, it was applied vigorously.

I hid my father's strap and bath brush once...almost threw them in the trash that was (during that era) burned in a fireplace in the backyard. Before setting them ablaze, I came to my senses and realized that they were easily replaced and the spanking I would get for burning them would be one I would rather avoid.

In my neighborhood growing up, just about every kid got spanked for misbehavior. Sometimes you would hear one (especially in Summer with the windows open) and sometimes you would actually get to see one. I also had a lot of cousin and it would not be unusual to see or hear a cousin get a spanking. I sometimes got spanked with one particular cousin with whom I would get into mischief.

I wouldn't say that any spanking I ever got was particularly useful in any long term way. They served their purpose at the time which was to punish me for a particular misbehavior (if I happened to get caught). I don't think any of them had any strong effect on my development into adulthood nor on my behavior as a kid.   My parents may have thought that my behavior improved but what really happened was that I just got better and better at not getting caught after doing things that would have gotten me spanked. As I got older the spankings decreased but that had more to do with my age and the fact that I was clever enough to avoid getting caught.

There was no doubt that they were partners and in agreement with the way our punishment was administered.

I got it with a belt by my father for signing his name to a math test with a poor grade when I was in maybe 4th or 5th grade. Another time I had a note from the teacher to have a parent call her, regarding my misbehavior in class. I called the teacher myself thinking she would believe it was my mother. I might have been in 6th or 7th grade at that time. My plan did not work and once again my butt was on the receiving end of a blistering by my father.

I ran for my life outside and around the corner of the house. I was quite confident that I had avoided a spanking. Suddenly my mum appeared in the driveway. I had no idea that she could run that fast,

In a matter of seconds my mum had my pants and under pants down around my ankles. I was put over one knee and spanked soundly on the bare bottom. My spanking didn't end until I was screaming with tears rolling down my cheeks, my bottom a deep shade of red. I'm sure if the neighbours had been home they would have enjoyed witnessing my spanking from their second story window. Maybe they were watching. I will never know.

I remember getting made fun of a few times, because my dad would threaten to put me over his knee and people heard him say it. Once during my 13th birthday party he put me over his knee in front of all my friends. it was a pool party too so it really hurt! I didn't live that once down for awhile. I don't even remember why I deserved the spanking.

I think my Dad spanked me a lot harder if I had panties on even though they were thin. He only ever spanked with panties when we were in public. If we were home, it was skirt up and panties down. Both hurt equally as bad.

After that we still played school but we never used his cane, just a bamboo stick we found.

There were many of my relatives in the town and a great deal of time was spent in each other’s houses. We witnessed and at time were subjected to punishment, “ a guid skelped backside” by aunts and uncles and our own parents. The interesting thing was that although my mother administered the ‘usual’ type of spanking, ‘spanked bare”, as was the phrase, over the knee, the right hand rapidly descending from above her shoulder straight down, upon the bare behind, her sister, my aunt, put the miscreant over her left knee and smacked with her right hand crossing her body. This way the tops of the legs and the bottom on each side felt her hand.

My aunty Agnes, my father’s sister, lived on a farm and many holidays were spent there with cousins. Frequently she had to spank one or more of us for being too ‘adventurous’ or just plain naughty. She swung her hand rapidly in a semi circle, smacking on one cheek and getting the other on the return swing. I swear her hand moved so quickly it was almost a blur! It hurt but seemed over in a flash.

The mother next door to us spanked her daughters with their panties on but she pulled up their skirts and smacked the very tops of their bare legs.

I would of probably gotten off being grounded, but after about a half hour of listening to him, I rolled my eyes...and that was it.

He said...Don't you roll your eyes at me...and that he was done talking, and took me in my room and used his belt on me, probably about 8 times...I don't remember it hurting, but it was very traumatic for me, and I was bawling from the moment I knew what was going to happen. I never did roll my eyes at him again.

When the command to go and await your punishment came, you knew that no amount of pleading and sorrow or crying or promising to be good would stop or delay your spanking. I had to go to my parents' room and sit next to the "spanking chair." (Yes, there was a specific spanking chair just for the purpose of punishment.) After waiting a few minutes, my mom or dad would come in, sit in the spanking chair and discuss their reason for my punishment with me. They were always direct and allowed no excuses or way out. It always came down to, this is what you did, it was wrong, you deserve to be punished, you are going to get a spanking, it will hurt, I don't want to hear you argue that it hurts, it's supposed to hurt, instead you need to think about what you did wrong and how you will correct it so you don't get another spanking. Then I had to stand up, pull down my pants and bend over their lap. They always pulled up my panties at the waist band, tight over my bottom. 

Then my spanking began. They always spanked with their hand or a small paddle with holes. I remember that position well, being held firmly in place and not being able to wiggle free or cover my bottom for protection. It felt so helpless and painful. It usually started with me trying to endure it without crying or struggling, then becoming desperate to struggle away as the pain built, then giving in to the inevitable - just laying there crying and feeling the painful punishment, not being able to avoid the spanks that kept landing over and over again. The entire ordeal is burned into my memory. It's true that my pain from those spankings, as much as they hurt, was not as bad as other pain from accidents like falling off my bike and breaking my teeth, but the memory of it hurts more. I guess their spankings were effective because while I lay in that position I had to think of why I was getting spanked and how I could avoid another one. 

After my spanking, I had to sit back in the other chair for a post-spanking discussion on that topic. They would ask what I had learned while I was over their lap getting spanked. If I didn't respond as I should, I went back over their lap for more because they said that apparently the spanking hadn't been effective. That only happened a few times, but it was horrible when it did. If my spankings were so effective though, I don't know why I got so many. It seems like both my parents really thought spankings were the best and even the only punishment. I got them pretty often when I was in elementary school. Then I started getting fewer in junior high and less in high school. Even then, it seems like I got spanked a lot.

There was always a buzz of excitement when someone was getting a spanking. I can distinctly remember this one girl who would always silently count them out--waving her arm with the number of fingers showing how many "spats" had been given up to that point.

The teacher was this old nun who was really big on spanking, and there were often a lot of spats. There was one girl who was always getting in trouble,and I remember her getting something over 20 one time.

When she grabbed the hairbursh she asked if I wanted to come with her--and I was quite enthusiastic of course. She got the spanking in front of me, and when she was through asked her if she had anything to say to me--and she whimpered out an "I'm sorry."

But I didn't make fun of her!

Almost everyone at church spanked their kids and there was no social stigma to doing it. In fact it was very approved of and not spanking a misbehaving child could earn disapproval. I can remember being spanked by my mom in the restroom and in the car in the church parking lot by dad. When I was about 6 my mom told me and my sister that if we were really bad at church we'd be in for a bare bottom spanking with the belt when we got home. She reminded us of this from time to time, and we each got to find out a few times she wasn't joking. One of the worst spankings I ever remember was for misbehaving in church.  I was about 8. My mom was so furious and embarrassed and there was a long wait driving home and then waiting in my room. That time she gave me a few extra spanks for not cooperating and jumping up and grabbing my butt during the spanking, it burned so much that I felt I just couldn't take any more spanks but got even more than planned for making so much fuss.

However when I was 11yrs old I had been invited to go away to a amusement park with my best friends parents for the weekend. The day before we were supposed to leave I got caught in a lie. My mother who was starting to phase out spanking my twin sister and I had initially said I was grounded and could not go to the park. About 30 mins later she came into my room and gave me a choice...She knew how much I wanted to go the park so in lieu of being grounded I could accept a spanking instead.

I was not thrilled with option B either as my mother spanked hard and I had enough memories of a red bottom to know this time would not be any different but the thrill of riding roller coasters was worth it. I said I would take the spanking. At which she then pulled me across her lap and spanked by bare bottom very hard. I am sure the neighbourhood heard me wail but in the end it was worth it!

Everybody usually has at least one that they will never forget. For me it was when I was 9yrs old...My twin sister and I were fighting, more bickering actually, at the top of the stairs that led down from our bedrooms to the main level. She said something that I guess upset me (I don't remember now what it was) and I shoved her a little. I did not intend for her to fall on her side and tumble down the stairs. I also did not intend to do that with both of my parents standing right below. It all happened in a flash. She was crying..I knew I was in for it but I was worried I had hurt her..My father who up until that point had never layed a finger on either my sister or I (mom did all the spanking in the house and even that was only a few times) checked on my sister to see if she was ok. When he saw that she was he grabbed me and carried me like a football over to a big leather chair where he sat..pulled me across his knee..lifted my dress..pulled down my underwear and spanked me about 4 or 5 times..I jumped up..more surprised at what he had did and then realised my bum was sore..my mother must have saw the look on his face like I can't believe I just did that because she came over and told him to tend to my sister and she dragged me into the kitchen where my bare bum was spanked with a wooden spoon.

That was the only time in my life that my father had ever spanked me. I will never forget it.

About five minutes later, my dad came in and turned the music off. I had barely looked up before he came over, grabbed me, put me over his knee, pulled my panties down, and gave me about twenty smacks with his hand. I protested and he lectured me about not listening to him and not turning down the music when he asked me the first time.

Afterwards I complained that I was going to turn it down (even though I probably wouldn’t have), but he said that I was supposed to do things the first time I was told and he hated always having to remind me. He told me not to turn the music back on and then he left.

Usually I was pretty reasonable after a punishment, but I spent the rest of the day in my room and would hardly speak to my father. Later that night before bed he came in and said that he was sorry he had gotten so angry with me about it. It turns out he had been very stressed about something with work (he did a lot of work from home and he had an office just a couple doors down the hall) and the noise had irritated him more than it normally would have. I apologized too, but I remember still thinking it was unfair. It was so out of character for my dad to punish me out of anger, and it hurt me not just physically.

A friend recently confided to me that her small son was not only more obedient after a spanking but was also more loving and affectionate. That made me recall how I often felt after a spanking when I was hugged by my mother and forgiven. I know that I responded to this by hugging her back and feeling a rise in my spirits which was then translated into the behaviour of a much happier little girl. However, this seemed to have happened only after really sound spankings that reduced me to helpless sobbing with a hot and smarting bottom and a tear-stained face. Other times when my spanking was not so thorough I sometimes felt resentment instead.

We used to have to 'run the gauntlet' in gym sometimes if we were late or not paying attention. You had to run between two lines of girls while they smacked your bottom. It was great fun - if you were not the spankee!!  As a variation, I once had to crawl through the other girls' legs while they smacked me. It hurt more but was still fun. I didn't know I could crawl so fast!!

It was the policy of many schools to administer punishments during Physical Education sessions, when the pupil was already undressed. Taking a child from the showers at the end of a P.E. class and spanking them for earlier misdemeanors would still be considered "Reasonable Chastisement" within the framework of the law, because no clothing had been removed for the purpose of the punishment.

I remember the same feelings as a child for my granny. I could barely imagine her "spanking spoon" doing educational duty on the backside of my young mum, but I wanted to know all about it.

From then on, we were punished wherever we played up. I was spanked three times by Ashley's mum and once by Ashley's dad. Ashley got it twice by my mum and once by my dad. We both agreed that our mums were equal but that my dad spanked harder.

Another time, after a spanking, I remember telling my mom, through tears, that she hated me. She seemed more hurt than mad, and took me in her arms and explained that she spanked me because she loved me, because if I did bad things as an adult the consequences would be a lot worse than a spanking, so it was better if I learned to be good when I was still young enough to spank. Afterwards, I felt really bad about saying that too her.

Our neighbours were more fervent adherents of corporal punishment as we, and as my sleeping room touched their living room, I regularly heard their children getting a spanking. I only heard the (considerable) noise, but the average spanking involved several dozens of smacks per child. I had mixed feelings. The two girls were little beauties I fancied, and they got smacked hard.

As a young kid, I saw a few times my older sisters getting a spanking. Somewhat older, it was the turn of my younger ones. Spankings were quite rare though, and if my mother saw I was trying to get a better view of the proceedings, she would close the kitchen door with the kind of look of 'try that again, and you get the same thing'.

For little things she'd sometimes reach back from the front passenger seat and smack our legs with her small plastic brush she usually kept in her purse. I think I said before that we never got spanked on our legs but that's not quite true. One time I remember really well my sister was wearing shorts and I was wearing long pants. She thought it was so unfair that she got it on her bare skin and I didn't. She was teary after and I felt happy about my luck even though it probably didn't hurt enough to make her cry by itself and I probably did smart a bit. Usually I was the bigger crybaby when it came to my spankings.

One of my better friends was a girl who was on the bus with me. She had the best story: she got from her dad the breadboard on her bare bottom. Being a girl, that was tough. I was dead curious. When playing in our garden the wednesday after, she showed me her buttocks (underpants pulled away), that had all fading colours of yellow and blue. Gosh! Her parents seemed rather normal people to me, but I was shocked. 

We were out driving, and I don't remember exactly what happened but my sister said something that was a big no no. Mom asked Dad to pull into a rest area.

First she asked Dad for his belt, and then changing her mind, asked me to go get a switch off a nearby tree. I didn't know what a switch was, and she told me a good sized end of a branch--I certainly knew what its intended purpose was. She hauled my sister up to the women's bathroom. I came up with a stick. She stripped off the leaves gave them to me to throw away and I was told to wait in the car.

My sister came back bawling uncontrollably. And then I saw Mom come out with another woman, and she was still holding the switch. Apparently my sis was whipped bare bottom in front of this stranger. After chatting a bit, she came back. The switch was kept in the car for a long time---but never used again.

Later I saw my sister's butt---and it, and her upper thighs were covered with welts. She told me that the "helpful good Samaritan" had even helped Mom by holding her in place during the beating. I was used to sometimes getting spanked bare bottom with Mom's hair brush--but this was much more.

In fact, it is so much more that I really think that swiches are a really bad idea.

Switching often encompasses a uniquely unpleasant ritual aspect--"the harvest"--in which the recipient must objectively participate in a process whose very raison d'etre is pain. And unlike situations in which a parent may instruct a child to "fetch the brush" or some other implement, picking a switch usually involves a significant choice about the particular implement to be used--thick or thin, whippy or rigid, privet or redbud, etc. Secondly, switches grow on trees, which are outdoors in public. Thirdly, switches are ineffective on clothed skin. And finally, on properly bare skin, a switch imparts a searing sting with localized intensity surpassing just about anything else imaginable. This combination of compulsory participation, public exposure, bared anatomy, and unsuppressible pain and loss-of-control defines the "switching" experience. Parents, no matter what James Dobson might tell you, please don't switch your kids.

I still recall the Fuller Brush-man and his black suitcase filled different sized hairbrushes. Each one had an elastic loop that held it in place and it seemed like there were dozens of them, each one more scary than the next. The salesman was well-known to the moms in the neighborhood and he was not the most popular guy with us kids.

Back to the length issue, leverage allowed a short, sharp wrist flick to yield a very meaningful spank. My mom used the yardstick which was a bit longer than a bath brush but not a true yard long. The length of it enabled her to spank "emphatically" as she liked to describe it without, again her words, "it really hurting." I emphastically (lol) disagreed about whether it really hurt but she was convinced that I was getting off easy. She herself got it with a belt. Her mother was a wrapper not a folder so maybe I did get off easier than she did. But, when that yardstick ruler connected, I felt it. I didn't even try not to cry or shriek. The only thing that kept me from crying more was the desire to promise to be good and to "never, ever" do it again. Probably some originality and true sincerity in the wording would have made it sound more convincing. It never worked. I am sure my mom thought, as a good friend used to joke, that it was just "my heinie talking."

This one that we both received was one where if I had kept my mouth shut we would not have gotten spanked. We were 10 and 11 yrs old and it was a Sunday afternoon. My mother had finished making a 'brunch' for us before our father left for work. It was my sister Teresa's responsibility to do the dishes and I was supposed to vacuum the family room. Come 1 pm we still had done nothing and my mother was leaving to drive our father to work since his car was in the shop. She announced before she left 'Teresa.. Ruth.. I want the dishes done and the family room vacuumed before I get back. I am dropping daddy off at work then going to the store for a few minutes. I shall be back in one hour. You both have laid around enough today. If the work isn't done when I get back you both will be getting a spanking on your bare backside.' We both kind of chuckled when she left because we both had heard the threat so many times in the past. My mother did not like to spank and left it mostly up to our father unless she had to. Anyway while she was gone I talked on the phone to friends and my sister who was the youngest watched tv. Sure as sugar.. my mother walked in the door at 2:30 pm or so and saw that nothing was done. She looked at my sister and me and said, 'I can't believe you didn't do what I asked...just go to your room.' As we were walking down the hall I said to my sister, 'I told you she wouldn't spank us,' and laughed. Little did I know that my mother was right behind me when I said that. The next words I heard were 'oh don't worry.. you will be getting spanked.. now' Needless to say my big mouth caused us both to get spanked bare bottomed over my mother's lap with a woden spoon.

If only I kept my mouth shut...

One of my good friends got it with what her mom called a "keen little switch." If the keen little switch broke and apparently they did fairly often, her mom would always say "Don't worry dear, we'll get another one." I always thought it was an unusual use of "Don't worry!"

My grandma McNeil, my father's mother, gave me the other one. My grandma was watching me as my mother ran a bunch of errands. One of my aunts, who was only about fifteen at the time, wasn't feeling well. We went to the health center. While we were waiting I decided to climb on, over, and under the lobby furniture. My grandma Joan wouldn't stand for that. She grabbed me by the arm, and sat me down. I was threatened.

Grandma Joan left me with my Auntie Cindy while she went to take care of some insurance thing, or to get the medication from the pharmacy down the hall. I decided to play around while my grandma wasn't watching. Auntie Cindy wasn't paying attention to me.

I remember hearing, "Cara Andrea McNeil! Stop that at once!" I know people in the waiting room were looking at us, especially me. Grandma Joan smacked Cindy on the arm and said, "Why did you let her act out? You could have stopped her." Before I could think, or even try to get away; I found myself over my grandma's knee. I was four years old and beginning to understand modesty. I was mortified that my grandma lifted up my dress for the spanking. I was pretty young, but I didn't like the idea of other people watching me get a spanking over my bloomers. Grandma Joan really whipped me because I remember trying to squirm away, and getting some extra swats for that.

A couple of years ago, I reminded my Aunt Cindy, who has kids that are practically grown, about the experience. She said that I was lucky. She said that if I had been her child instead of grandchild, she would have probably bared my bottom. I don't know if my auntie realizes that Grandma Joan has given me a couple of bare bottom spankings. They were in the privacy of home though.

I think spankings can have both physical and psychological effects. Of course you have the pain, stinging, and/or burning. In my opinion it can be summed up like the introduction to, "The Twilight Zone." "A dimension of sight, sound, and mind." I would make up my mind to do something. Many times I would willfully disobey my parents. My mom or dad would threaten, or would take the spanking implement out or off. Mom would grab the wooden or plastic spoon. My dad would take off his belt. If I continued or really misbehaved, I would find my self over the knee, feeling the implement on my bare bottom or scantily clad tush. It hurt, and I would bawl my head off. My parents were not abusive, but boy could they spank! Afterward, I would rub my burning bottom. A couple of times I looked at it. I am fair-skinned, so my bottom would be red for a while.

I was a headstrong little girl, so I had my share of spankings. When I would get sassy or stubborn my mother would say things like, "I'm going to blister your butt." Many times the threat was enough to jog my memory to, "A dimension of sight, sound, and mind." As I got older, I learned not to push my limits.

We ended up goofing around with some other kids at the playground at the school across from the store. But, I did not think it was all that long.

Upon returning, her Mom grabbed a wooden spoon off the wall (which I had previously been told was not just used for cooking).

Without a word, right there in the kitchen, my friend pulled her shorts down and bent over. No one seemed to care that I was standing there stunned.

Her Mom just silently smacked her bare butt--I could see the red circles forming--and my friend started quietly sobbing and making that noise you do when trying to hold in tears.

At the end the mother just said--"ok, next time you better take your watch."

I suppose the spanking was justified--but it was one of the weirdest things I'd ever seen.

My grandma McNeil, my father's mother, gave me the other one. My grandma was watching me as my mother ran a bunch of errands. One of my aunts, who was teenager at the time, wasn't feeling well. We went to the health center. While we were waiting I decided to climb on, over, and under the lobby furniture. My grandma Joan wouldn't stand for that. She grabbed me by the arm, and sat me down. I was threatened.

Grandma Joan left me with my Auntie Cindy while she went to take care of some insurance thing, or to get the medication from the pharmacy down the hall. I decided to play around while my grandma wasn't watching. Auntie Cindy, who was only about fifteen at the time, wasn't paying attention to me.

I remember hearing, "Cara Andrea McNeil! Stop that at once!" I know people in the waiting room were looking at us, especially me. Grandma Joan smacked Cindy on the arm and said, "Why did you let her act out? You could have stopped her." Before I could think, or even try to get away; I found myself over my grandma's knee. I was four years-old and beginning to understand modesty. I was mortified that my grandma lifted up my dress for the spanking. I was pretty young, but I didn't like the idea of other people watching me get a spanking over my bloomers. Grandma Joan really whipped me because I remember trying to squirm away, and getting some extra swats for that.

A couple of years ago, I reminded my Aunt Cindy, who has kids that are practically grown, about the experience. She said that I was lucky. She said that if I had been her child instead of grandchild, she would have probably bared my bottom. I don't know if my auntie realizes that Grandma Joan has given me a couple of bare bottom spankings. They were in the privacy of home though.

My brother followed in my father's footsteps and is also a police officer. He's married and has two children a 4 year-old boy and 2 year-old girl. There was talk about having a third child. My sister graduated with two majors English/Psychology. My sister and her husband live in Washington State, where she works in a psychiatrists office. She may eventually become a shrink. She and her husband have no children, but they do want to have them soon.

I originally wanted to be a nurse and am close to my bachelor's of science in nursing. I decided I liked working with children more and went into teaching. I am currently teaching second grade. I married a sweet southern Irish man (He's also 100% Irish) from North Carolina. He works for the Department of Homeland Security. We will be welcoming our first child in July. We don't know if it's a boy or girl, but we'd like to find out.

I graduated from high school in 1990, and have become progressively nostalgic for the days gone by. I was really lucky that I never got spanked in high school. I'm sure I gave my parents plenty of reasons, but for some reason, they were a little easier on me, than they were on my older brother and sister.

My brother and sister were the two examples of who most kids want to be like. My brother was a varsity hockey player, wrestler, good-looking, and popular with the girls. My sister was the typical blond cheerleader. She was out-going, pretty, shapely, and very popular! I was "Plain Jane," girl next-door type. I was in the gifted program, the honor society, high school band, and very involved with my church youth group.

My parents had plenty of struggles with me when I was little. They thought I was just being willful and hard-headed, but later found out that I needed to be challenged. Once my parents and teachers discovered this, school became enjoyable for me.

I could take a sick day whenever I wanted, because my parents didn't have to worry about me falling behind. My brother and sister really had to be sick, to stay home.

There are several instances that are school related that I honestly can not believe that my parents didn't spank me for. When I was a junior in high school, I used to catch a ride to school with my sister, who was a senior. I could only catch a ride, if I was on time. I hated mornings! I was the hardest person to get up in high school. It didn't help that school started at 7:15. My mother told my sister to leave me behind, so she wouldn't be late. I usually ended up riding to school in my father's patrol car. My dad would mutter things like, "Why can't you get up on time? What ever discipline they decide to hand out to you, you've earned Missy."

I was disciplined at school. My teacher's gave me numerous lunch detentions for being late. The vice principal Mr. Stansel would say, "It's the McNeil kid again! Another tardy, Cara? I wouldn't think of you as the detention type." I would take my homework with me and sit through the lunch detention. I'll admit, I was able to complete my homework.

During the second half of my junior year, I had a real witch for a teacher. Mrs. Schadbolt was a known bitch to most students. I was unlucky enough to have her as an English teacher. Her class just happened to be at the beginning of the school day. From the beginning, Mrs. Schadbolt loved sticking it to me. She would draw a lot of attention to my tardies, and tell the other students not to be like me. She critiqued my work to the most minute of details. I knew she didn't like me. She told the vice principal that detention didn't seem to be doing me any good, and felt that I should be given work detail. I ended up getting "Mr. Clean" for a few days after school.

Things really came to a head, and Mrs. Schadbolt wanted to meet with my parents. I was asked to leave the room. I was in the little room next door and was able to hear just about everything. Mrs. Schadbolt was very huffy over my tardies, and my lack of remorse. My mom stepped in and said, "Well, how late is Cara?" Mrs. Schadbolt said, "She is always about five minutes late." My mom said, "Well we try to get her up on time. That kid is very hard to budge in the morning." My dad said, "Cara is a very good student and enjoys school. My wife and I are very strict with our kids, but I don't want to discourage her, and have her start hating school. We never have to get after her over grades or homework. She is a very responsible child. She also has an after school job. It is partly my fault, I didn't think being late five minutes, is that big of a deal."

I was asked to enter the room to join the conference. Little did they know, that I could hear most of what they were saying about me. My dad made me promise in front of Mrs. Schadbolt that I would be on time. When we got home, my dad said, "I recognized your teacher. I think your uncle Mark used to date her in high school?" Oh, so that's why she doesn't like me. LOL!

My dad and I both love food! He told me that if I made it to school on time every day for a week, he'd take me to "Red Robbin" for supper. I was on time every day.

To this day, I am surprised that my parents didn't spank me for being late, getting all those detentions, and work details. I would have been on time, had spankings been involved. I'm extremely thankful that my parents didn't know that, and decided to keep my school experiences very positive.

Does anyone else have a situation(s) in which they are still amazed that they didn't get spanked?

my older brother and sister were spanked more often by my father, than I was. I think it was because I was the youngest (his baby), and the most serious, responsible child. I'm not sure if my dad spanked Brad or Wendy more. I think they received about the same amount of cp, because their offenses were very similar: staying out too late, getting caught partying, disrespect, lying, etc. They both took more risks than I did. I do think my father was harder on Brad though, being the oldest, and a boy.

Both Wendy and Brad have been caught cutting school, and have gotten in trouble for it. My parents didn't trust them with excuses to get out of school after those experiences. Brad and Wendy both had to keep their grades up to participate in sports and cheerleading. I believe they would have gotten in trouble if they were late, and had the numerous tardies that I had. I don't think they resented me for getting off easy because; after all, who would want to be a nerd like Cara?

I'm 36 years-old and can still vividly remember the fear and pain from waiting and the actual spanking itself. For me it stung and burned.

I know it's hard for guys to compare sensations and emotions to labor. It is a terrible pain, but I think women are psychologically equipped to forget the pain once the little bundle arrives. If I had remembered, I probably wouldn't have had baby number two. The second labor jogged my memory; however, once again, after seeing the baby, the memory of the pain left.

I think spankings can have both physical and psychological effects. Of course you have the pain, stinging, and/or burning. In my opinion it can be summed up like the introduction to, "The Twilight Zone." "A dimension of sight, sound, and mind." I would make up my mind to do something. Many times I would willfully disobey my parents. My mom or dad would threaten, or would take the spanking implement out or off. Mom would grab the wooden or plastic spoon. My dad would take off his belt. If I continued or really misbehaved, I would find my self over the knee, feeling the implement on my bare bottom or scantily clad tush. It hurt, and I would bawl my head off. My parents were not abusive, but boy could they spank! Afterward, I would rub my burning bottom. A couple of times I looked at it. I am fair-skinned, so my bottom would be red for a while.

I was a headstrong little girl, so I had my share of spankings. When I would get sassy or stubborn my mother would say things like, "I'm going to blister your butt." Many times the threat was enough to jog my memory to, "A dimension of sight, sound, and mind." As I got older, I learned not to push my limits.

She used to do her cheerleading routines in the yard with her outfit on so people could see her. It wasn't practice, you could tell she wanted attention instead and usually moved into our backyard so more people could see. Now, I didn't mind her doing cheers in anyone's backyard, it was the attitude and the way she did this is what annoyed me. This particular summer, I had heard her off and on being very critical and sassy towards both her parents. Her parents by the way are now retired teachers. I did notice a big difference in her behavior towards her mother and father after she got spanked, and she was much more polite, she still is. She still did her cheering, very rarely in her outfit, and not as often, and it looked and felt more like practicing. That is one spanking I felt good about hearing. I was about ready to give her one myself! When I have seen her since she is grown, she is very polite to me and her parents are very proud of her.

I began to get good at listening to half a phone conversation. I would hear things like, "yes with the paddle," or "she's due for one." It didn't take a genius to realize that the conversation was about me. I would strain to hear better to figure out whether the spanking referred to was past or future. It always annoyed me how casual mom would be on the phone referring to my bottom being blistered. Was it really the other person's business?

I had a brief conversation with my Mom on this and her reply was " I don't think you're too old.  And do they still paddle in school"? Yes they did and so would she was the result.

So on my next time of misdeeds and facing Mom's paddle I resolved to resist and show her how "uneffective" it was.

I did not protest or plead but obediently got into position and waited. Well I was very misguided it had been quite a while since I had been spanked and maybe Mom remembered our talk. But she wielded that paddle on my bottom like a champion.

After some smacks and great effort on my part not to cry out I broke and began to sob. She made very sure I was not too old for her paddle. I cried and cried as she "tore" my bottom up. Afterwards she asked me if I thought I was still too old. My reply through my sobs "No Ma'am". She clearly had broken my resistence.

I inherited the nasty shoehorn and on one occasion I spanked my two youngest children (girl/boy) with it when they were about 10 and 11. Once they had calmed down we sat down and talked and I told them how it had been used on me and my tomboy sister – their aunt Edith - and the stories of her misbehaviour and subsequent punishments did interest them quite a lot.

Dad used his hand & a paddle too. Never in anger, which I guess was why I was sent to my room to wait & cry anticipating a promised spanking.

I put my head around the door. Mom pointed to the corner "put your nose in that corner and don't you dare move until I have time to deal with you" she said.

This was serious!!! The only times I ever got stood in the corner was as a prelude to getting a spanking. I racked my brains to think of anything which I had done, or had failed to do, which might account for my predicament but my behaviour had been, by my standards, exemplary of late.

After a period which seemed only marginally short of an eternity my mom gestured to the dining table and told me to sit, the clothes brush which was usually hanging on the hallstand and had often been pressed into service as an instrument of correction, sat on the table between us.

She asked me about my whereabouts the previous day, where I had been, who I had been with, who else I had seen. She wanted Names, Times and Places.

I recounted my movements (truthfully). She then asked me if I had seen certain people, some of whom I had seen and others I hadn't. My story must have satisfied her because she said I could go and get changed out of my school clothes.

I never found out what crime I had been suspected of and I have recently asked my mom about it but she has no recollection of the incident at all. Such a close encounter with so powerful a deterrent, however, has fixed the event indelibly in my memory and I have absolutely no doubt that had my mom deemed it necessary I would have found myself dangling, face down, across her lap renewing my acquaintance with the flat side of that brush.

Mom did warning swats, but Dad was primary spanker/paddler at our house. Those were always bare, and usually waist-down bare followed by corner time.

After my paddle was made I still got hand spankings, and still did even after my paddle was first used. My paddle was reserved for lying and stealing. As I got older, my transgressions more frequently included elements of lying/stealing so its use grew more frequent as I grew.

I waited for a long time and as I kept waiting I felt more and more guilty about it. It was agony having to sit there with nothing to do but think about how terrible I’d acted. After about an hour, both of my parents came in. Immediately I began to apologize. Dad said he was glad to see that I realized how out of line I was, but that he still had to punish me. He told me to take my jeans down and lie over my bed. As I did so I could see him remove his belt. I was really nervous since I’d never gotten that before. I began to cry immediately after he began, due to the intense pain and the guilt I felt. I ended up getting about twenty cracks with his belt.

I remember feeling absolutely awful as I pulled my jeans down and got into position. I hated getting spanked and I knew this would be one of my worst ones I would ever receive. Even though I got to keep my underwear up, my dad swung his belt really hard and it stung. Between that and my guilt, I was a sobbing mess when he was done. 

Afterwards I cried for a bit and then finally managed to compose myself. I went over to my mom and told her I was sorry and that it would never happen again. She hugged me and said she was glad I was sorry. Then my dad suggested that I go to bed early. I remember lying there awhile, rubbing my sore backside and feeling incredibly ashamed.

While I don’t think I would have ever said that again even if I hadn’t been spanked, this was probably one of my most deserved spankings. Respect is very important and too many kids today would not even be scolded for saying something like that.

Normally I was quite obedient but the fifth grade was a tough year. It was my responsiblity to do the dishes but for some reason i thought i could slide off to bed w/o finishing the silverware---more than once! Mom would notice and call me to the kitchen and tell me I had ten minutes to finish then she would spank me for my irresponsibility. My mom could make three or four swats last a minute or two then i would miss ice cream while i stood in the corner.

On my 8th birthday I complained about the cake Mom had made me having wanted a real pastry store bought cake.
This was before my party and MOm took me into my room and gave me a hard spanking with her paddle.
After I settled down she came in and I hugged her and apologized. I was an angel at my party.

My mom would really spank me with her paddle. I was around 7 or 8 and had gone down the road without her permission.
She took me into the bed room and bent me over the end of my bed and padlled me some over my jeans. Then she made me lower them and no matter how I cried she made me lower them.
She burned my seat really good/bad. This was one of my worst spankings. Sometime later after I had settled down and she had made me lunch I asked her "Mommy" ( being so submissive and brokenly cute?) "I don't ever want another spanking please tell me how?"
"Well you have to be good and obey Mommy always, and maybe I will not have to spank your back side. I was serious at this time and I guess she knew I was. But also, being Mom, she knew she would be spanking me again.

We were at a church picnic function and I disobeyed Mom in going into an area I was told not to. She sent my sister to get a switch (which she did gladly) neither one of us never having been switched before. Mom prepared the switch and took me behind the back of the pavillion and whipped me with the switch. I was screaming as if I was having my leg cut off. I cannot describe the pain. Thankfully she did not keep it up more than a couple of minutes But my butt had red raised stripes on it. My sister was even shocked at the after effects. Needless to say everyone knew I had been switched.

I'm interested in this thread because I have always wondered why my parents always took down our underwear and punished us on our bare buttocks. It made the whole experience much more intense in so many ways: the scary ritual of the baring itself, your embarrassment of being taken over their lap with your buttocks completely exposed and upturned, and of course the greater intensity of pain when the slaps or licks of the belt began.

It does make me think that my parents had a very unsentimental approach to corporal punishment. They were completely comfortable with the idea of straightforward physical chastisement for us (I was one of five children) and had no qualms about baring our buttocks in order to make our spankings as efficient as possible. They must have known how intense an experience it must have been for children to be punished in this ritualised way, but at the same time I think from their own upbringing they thought it was their most straightforward and direct way of disciplining us. Baring our buttocks was just part of the traditional way they expected to go about it.

I was in the 4th grade. I had learned how to spell cuss words by that point in my life. I wrote as many cuss words as I could think of on a sheet of paper and placed it on the teacher's desk. I did this same thing for close to a week. I would sneak in our classroom right after recess before our teacher and other kids got back and would put the paper on her desk. Each day I wrote out a different set of cuss words. As I said, this went on for several days. It drove our teacher crazy, and she got very mad. Of course my classmates thought it was funny.

Nobody suspected me, and everyone wondered who was doing the mysterious act. Each day our teacher would say it better not happen again, and each day I would continue to do it. Each day I did become more nervous and afraid of getting caught. The teacher didn't recognize my writing because by 4th grade we had to write everything in cursive, and I made the cuss words in very neatly printed letters. Finally our teacher warned that if it continued that we would go back to handwriting until she caught the culprit. That scared me, and I stopped.

If I had been caught doing that I would have most certainly gotten a licking. I grew up in the southern united states so I expect I would have gotten a paddling at school and then a spanking at home. It would have been one heck of a spanking too along with a very serious lecture. I expect my dad would have spanked me. He rarely spanked me, hardly ever did. My mother usually did the spanking, but I think that stunt would have meant a spanking from my dad.

I still get nervous sometimes when I think about what would have happened to me if I had been caught. My parents still don't know about it to this day, and I am a grown woman. Obviously I wouldn't get a spanking if I told them now, but I still wouldn't want to tell them. I know I deserved a spanking for that, no doubt about it. If I were a parent I would spank my kids for it. It hurts to sit just thinking about it.

Almost nothing ticked my mom off more than misbehaving "in God's house." The same seemed to go for a lot of other parents. Our church openly promoted spanking and it wasn't uncommon at all to see a kid in tears getting dragged or carried out of the sanctuary to get the hand, hairbrush or belt in the restroom, a sunday school room or parking lot. I can remember one little girl yelling out "no daddy, not a spanking!"

Around the time we started grade school my mom informed us one Sunday morning before church that from now on if we were really bad at church we'd be getting the belt on our bare bottoms when we got back home. This was considered the supreme punishment in our house and getting in trouble at church or school meant an automatic bare butt spanking with the belt. We got the same lecture our first day of school every year for our first few years of grade school.

I managed to avoid ever getting a dreaded misbehaving at school spanking but in church where I was under my parent's watchful eyes I wasn't so lucky. One of my worst spankings I ever got was when my Sunday school teacher complained to my mom about my behavior. First I had to wait through church and the ride home and then in my room. Finally my mom came into my room with one of my dad's belts, made me bend over my bed and gave me a spanking that felt like it went on forever. I'm sure that I wasn't the only kid in my church who had an experience like that on arriving home on Sunday.

Jenny was worried because she was supposed to go to her friend’s birthday party that evening, and she thought that our parents wouldn’t allow her to go after they found out. She had been looking forward to that party for weeks. I tried to comfort her, but nothing I said made her feel better. We were very close and I hated to see her so upset. Finally I offered to take the blame for her. At first she refused but eventually agreed.

Right before our parents got home I was nervous about their reaction and began to regret my offer a bit. But I wasn’t going to take it back. Of course when they came home and discovered the lamp they demanded to know what had happened. I admitted to fooling around in the living room and breaking it. My dad lectured me about my carelessness and took me to my room for a spanking. He bared my bottom, put me over his knee, and spanked me with his hand. It wasn’t too severe, but it still hurt a lot. Afterwards Jenny came in my room. She felt really bad once she saw I had been crying. She hugged me and kept thanking me and saying how sorry she was. Usually I was humiliated after being spanked, but that time I felt very heroic.

Recently at a family gathering the incident came up, and Jenny finally confessed to breaking the lamp (about ten years after it happened) and said that I had kindly offered to cover for her. My parents laughed and thought what I did was sweet. My dad said he had wondered why I had acted so much more mature and apologetic than I usually did when I was in trouble.

Dad spanked slower. He always spanked me bare bottom with a hairbrush, he didn't lecture between spanks but waited for 2 or 3 seconds before delivering the next swat.

My sister (she was 22 years older than me and took a big role in disciplining me growing up) was the slowest, because she lectured and asked questions between the swats.. But always ended the spanking with furious fast round of spanks that made howl.

Although mom's cane always hurt the most, the fear and anticipation of when the next spank is going to fall, and feeling the burn building up made the whole thing plain awful.

I was spanked unjustly at the age of 10. My brother was playing some real loud music on the recorder, which was forbidden by mom especially during her afternoon nap. I went to his room to get a book at the same time he went down to the kitchen. While I was looking for my book mom came in with the cane in her hand, and started yelling at me for being too loud.. Before I could even explain she pushed me on the bed face down and started whacking my bottom and thighs with the cane while I screamed and cried my eyes out, I was wearing thin shorts that were no protection at all..

Later that day when she knew it wasn't me she told me to consider it a spanking for something that I have done but not punished for, I wasn't upset from the unjust spanking as much as I was upset from her not apologizing for her mistake.  A simple apology from mom would meant so much to me at that time. In my case, as a kid I always tried to behave myself not only to save my butt but also to please my parents.  And being spanked (or even yelled at) for something I didn't do made me think that my efforts were no use at all. It happened several times to me and it always made me so frustrated

It did not take me long to discover what a spanking from my stepdad was. Couple of weeks after we moved in together I skipped three last classes at school because I did not prepare my homework. Same evening I got a royal scolding from mom and stepdad, and after the sentence of spanking my stepdad took me by my elbow and led me to my bedroom. My first spanking came as quite a shock. But my behind and stepdad's belt were to come to know each other closely over the next several years. I have to admit though, my behavior did improve compared to before my mom remarried. I think living in full family and firmer overall discipline were the major reason, but perhaps spankings played a role too. They surely drew a line that I was not particularly eager to step over.

Once when I was almost 11 my sister and I were running late for school but our room was mess! We decided that if we locked it and took the key with us then mom wouldn't find out and we could clean it when we came back.

When we came back in the afternoon, we found that mom had placed a chair right in front of our bedroom and sat on it with the cane in her hand, and asked us to unlock it "to see what we're hiding"

And of course she saw what she expected.. She immediately ordered us to raise our skirts, lower our panties and bend over the edge of our bed, she caned us both really hard that day and of course we never did such a thing again. It was one of the rare times mom caned me bare bottom.

My younger sister Gabrielle was a good one for that. I remember her running from mom one time when she got into trouble for something (I don't remember what). She ran upstairs to the bathroom slammed the door & locked it before mom could catch up to her. Mom warned her that the longer she stayed in there the worse her punishment would be. I think she stayed in the bathroom for a couple of hours it seemed before she figured the coast was clear. I guess she thought mom had cooled down enough by that time so she wouldn't get spanked. Boy was she wrong! I was in the family room with some of our other siblings when Gabrielle came downstairs. Before we could warn her mom appeared from the laundry room, grabbed Gabrielle's hand & practically dragged her into the kitchen. I can remember her crying "no, no I'm sorry!" She got pulled over mom's knee & got one hell of a spanking with the paddle. Then she got to go back upstairs to her room for awhile. I recall she walked very quietly up the stairs & didn't slam any doors but she cried the whole way.

Stomping up the stairs & slamming your bedroom door or just general temper tantrums always earned you a spanking. Mom would follow upstairs & practically kick the door in. Then it was over her knee for paddling.

"Just you wait until we get home young lady."

When I was younger it was "Do you want a spanking right here in front of everybody?" Like I was going to say yes. Of course, she would sometimes carry out that threat.

"If I hear any more sass coming out of that mouth you're going over my knee!"

"I've just about had it with your attitude young lady. Get into the kitchen right now!" That is where she kept the paddle of course.

I know there were others but these are some that I can remember. That last was was especially effective. You knew at that point you were getting spanked. Sometimes though she would just let you have right then & there with her hand, usually on your bare behind.

One of my younger sisters, Julie, got into trouble one time when she was 11 or 12. She was pretty mouthy as a kid (still is) & got sassy with mom about something. She was helping mom with the laundry & said something to mom who told her to go get the paddle from the kitchen. I clearly heard Julie tell her "go & get it yourself" in a very snotty tone. Boy I'll tell you I never saw my mother so angry before & she got pretty mad at me plenty of times. She took Julie by the ear to a nearby chair & told ME to get the paddle for her. What a dilemma! I didn't want to contribute to my sister's spanking but if I didn't obey I would probably have gotten it too, so I went & got the paddle. Mom had gotten Julie's pants & underpants down by this time. I'm sure it wasn't easy because she squirmed and resisted the whole time while pleading with mom to not spank her. I think she said "I'm sorry" about 20 times at least. I didn't stay & watch, mom made me & our other siblings who were there leave the room. I didn't count the whacks but it was probably over 10. You could hear them from the living room which was on the other side of the house. I'm sure you could hear the crying & screaming down the street.

When I was back mom grabbed me by the arm and took me to the library room, she stood me in front of her, sat on a sofa and scolded me for a long time before putting me across her lap and baring my bottom. She started spanking me with her hand first but then grabbed a flower from the arrangement of fake flowers that were in a vase placed on the side table, and started spanking me with it. I remember her saying something like "The more it hurts the more you will behave," it did sting a lot and I was bawling but I don't think the pain lasted for that long afterwards. I remember that day so vividly that I even remember the skirt I was wearing and the kind of candy I bought!

Similarly, I was spanked a couple of times at my aunt's house, once by her, and once by her husband. When they told my parents what had happened, I was terrified that I would get punished at home as well, and I remember feeling absolutely mortified when my aunt informed my mother about my behaviour. My mother asked, "So you spanked her, I hope?" and my aunt confirmed that she had. In the car on the way back home I very timidly asked my mother if she was going to spank me again. I was scared to ask, because I didn't want to plant the idea, as it were, but I had to know. But she just shook her head.

"No. Just early to bed. You've been spanked, that's enough." 

What a relief!

Mom would more often than not let one of us have it right then and there after a warning or two. She usually had 3 or 4 kids she was dragging around with her when we were younger. Spanking me or one or more of my siblings in public was much more effective on the rest of us. Seeing a brother or sister get spanked usually got the rest of us to behave better.

As soon as our car stopped, I opened the back door of our Greyish Blue four door car and I bolted toward the overlook. Only as an adult have I understood what really was happening. I ran UP the rocky surface and then, what appeared to the adults back in our car, OFF the edge. In reality, there was a long flat stretch out of sight of the adults. They panic and shart yelling and chasing after me. I am in no danger and I am many feet from any potential fall. It appears totally different from their position. Of course, they promptly catch me since there is no place for me to run to. I have no idea what their problem is so I don't know what to apologize for other than for doing what we all came to do, namely look out at the sights below. A confusing "we are so glad you are safe, but we are furious with you" conversation takes place and I am hauled back to the car. Someone has a small hairbrush in her purse -- I don't think it was my mom's; it is produced; and I get a short but memorable spanking in the backseat of our car from my mother, with my uncle's and grandmother's strong approval. When retold at family gatherings most of the details of how I was never in any danger were omitted and their summary version was "Remember the time you almost fell off Community Mountain!" Ah, family spanking legends! Got to love 'em.

A good friend in third grade and I played together often. This enabled our moms to talk and to share spanking tips. My mom once mentioned that my friend "gets spanked with the hairbrush." I made a mental note but did not ask any followup questions. I had felt the hairbrush once, at least. It was part of that family spanking legend involving my running off a mountaintop. Cartoon kids almost always got it with the hairbrush. The cartoon character "Nancy" was always getting in trouble with Sluggo and getting a spanking from Aunt Fritzi with a hairbrush. So, the hairbrush had a big reputation. In the states I don't think the slipper is known for its spanking potential or efficacy. This is strange since the slipper is really just an oval shaped rubber paddle and we know that paddles are a virtual institution in the States!