This archive features choice exerpts from the
Childhood Spanking Memories forum at
http://www.voy.com/221942/



I couldn't hide Dad's slipper, it was part of a pair, he wore them every day, they were always kept in the same place and he would have known it was one of us if they weren't where he had left them.
A hairbrush, also used for brushing hair, can move around a bit, wasn't going to be instantly missed, and if mislaid temporarily, there were a few other brushes lying around for hairbrushing purposes, while only the one was used for spanking. So yes, one day I took it, and dumped it in the kitchen rubbish bin. My sister saw me, and decided to be a snitch - never could work out why, since the disappearance of that hairbrush would have been to her advantage as well, but I guess she couldn't resist an opportunity to get me into trouble.
She told Mum, or rather brought Mum to the kitchen and showed her where Briony had put the hairbrush. Luckily, that too, was seen as sort of cute, I remember Mum laughing, then grabbing the thing and chasing me upstairs with it to give me a playful swat.
Never did it again, anyway.
Actually, what Mum said was, "Darling do you think we're too poor to afford a new one?"


An "official spanking" from my father was rather rare but meant to be a deterrent not soon forgotten. He used only his hands, but he was a strong man with heavy hands.
If our mother had complained about us, we would get spanked together and go to the mirror in the girl's room and compare "red bottoms". We'd back up to the mirror to see whose buttocks was the reddest. My sis has pale skin, that was seriously unfair. I am dark skinned and easily suntanned. While she sported a nice flaming red pair of buttocks, my dark skinned bottom showed at most a bit pink. We counted strokes, but I thought, no, I was convinced I got harder strokes.


Given that the pain of a spanking is obviously of far less magnitude than that of giving birth, breaking a limb or even burning yourself on the oven door, it must really be all to do with state of mind.
Emotions are running high on both sides, so everything is heightened. The kid being spanked knows perfectly well that DELIBERATE pain is about to be inflicted and there is absolutely nothing he/she can do about it. I never knew how many spanks I was going to get - neither did my parents, I don't think, there was never that calculated an air to it - but knowing it was coming and that it was going to be repeated x times, and I could do nothing to prevent it, lessen it, or soothe it was the key.
I never felt bad because they were disappointed in me, I felt scared because they were angry with me. After it was over, they usually left me on my own for about half an hour to calm down and pull myself together, then whoever it was had spanked me would come back to talk to me - this always ended up with a cuddle and more tears because I was so relieved to be forgiven by then.
So for me, I think Little Bri was mainly horrified that they wanted to deliberately hurt me, even if, it was, as they would have said, probably, "for my own good".


The only position we were ever spanked in was over the knee. I never got spanked laying over a chair or standing up. It was always the lecture, pants and panties to my ankles over my parents lap with his hand from my dad or her hand or wooden spoon from my mom. I never felt embarrassed about my pants coming down or my dad especially seeing me naked from my waist down. I was always only concerned for my soon to be sore bare bottom. I suppose because I never got spanked past 12 years old and never after puberty it was not something I thought about. Over the knee was the only method I knew for spankings. My friend got it the same way so at the time that's how I thought spankings were done.

My last spanking occured two or so weeks past my 12th birthday. I had not been spanked in probably six months but I got caught stealing with my friend at the corner store. An angry phone call and a long walk home knowing what would probably happen to my little tushie had me almost crying. When I did manage to make it home my dad was waiting and without saying hardly a word he took my arm and led me downstairs where all our spankings occured. He told me how disappointed he and mom were and how he was going to make sure I never pulled that stunt again. In a heart beat with me howling he had my little summer dress up and over my head. I still clearly remember it was a pale yellow. At 12 I was barely showing signs of maturing so had no bra or sports top on so there I stood with just my shoes socks and underpants on. It didn't take long to get those down to my ankles and over I went. I think it was probably the worst spanking I had ever got with his big hand crashing on my little bottom so many times. Looking back I probably got around 15 or 20 but who was counting. I know for sure when it was over I was howling and hopping all over the rec room. My dad said little after but gave me that look of disgust that only parents perfect. It took me a good half hour to recover and I finally put my clothes back on and went upstairs to confront my sibs and parents and apologized up and down with promises not to do it again. It must have worked as I don't ever remember taking anything not mine again. Sometimes such a lesson does work and for sure it was the last time my dad ever spanked me. My parents strongly believed in not spanking pubescent children or teens so I was careful to not get into that kind of pickle again.


I don't know why my dad took us downstairs to the sofa in the rec room. I guess it was private and was a routine he started with my older sisters. On the sofa he would take our pants and panties down and then bend us over his lap but with the top of our body resting on the sofa and just our legs hanging down so it was more comfortable then hanging down face to floor I suppose. Anyways, that's how he did our spankings when we earned one.
My sisters and I would sometimes compare our red bottoms and decide who got it the worst lol. My dad was equally fair and did not pick favourites but I'm sure we disagreed on occasion. Memories sometimes make that past spanking worse then it was and of course for some wierd reason it was bragging rights on who could take it the best. I was pretty much a coward so seldom earned that title.

My best friend and I both got spankings as a major discipline tool by mostly our dads growing up. I got the hand with one exception and she got the belt usually. Both would talk occasionally about our last spanking or two we got on our sleepovers trying to decide whose hurt the most. It sounds like the belt should win hands down but I usually got three times what she got in total with my dad's iron paw. In the end it was kind of fun and interesting to hear your friends accounts of her punishment. I honestly believed that every kid got spanked in those days for being naughty so it seemed almost normal to talk about it to a friend.


The brush Mum used to spank us when I was little was very old, she must have had it for years, and it may even have been one of her mother's. I do remember when I was about seven or eight it started to look a bit ragged round the edges (afer years of use on both sides!), and one day when Mum was brushing my hair before school the handle came away from the brush. By the time I got home from school that day it had been replaced with a new brush. This one was a flat-backed oblong shaped brush which looked very sturdy indeed even though it was made of plastic. I remember looking at it and wondering if the fact that it was made of plastic not wood would make it feel less heavy and/or sting less when it came to be used for spanking. Answer, a short time later - no. Just as bad, and possibly worse since it had a bigger surface area than the old one.


I initially thought of bringing my children up without the need of spanking - perhaps in reaction to the way I'd been brought up. However, by the time my daughter got to six her behaviour was really bad (she takes after me) so I had to admit my parenting methods weren't working and she went over my knee. The improvement in her behaviour was considerable so I continued with it.
I must say I found spanking my kids much better for family relationships. I remember once my daughter (about nine) had been a real pain on a shopping trip so when we got home she got a spanking over my knee. After a cooling off period we had cuddles and a talk and she was delightful the rest of the day. I think without the spanking we might have had endless conflict the rest of the day.


I was eleven and my parents left me and my best friend at our cottage while they went shopping with my little sis and bro. We had promised not to go swimming or get in any trouble while they were gone as we were now considered big girls able to stay on our own. Unfortunately we could not live up to that age level and before we knew it we were in the water off our dock. I think it all started innocently running around but once one of us jumped into the water the other followed. We swam out to the raft and just had some fun. Then to top it off when we got out we climbed the old tv tower to the roof and sat up there for awhile looking over our domain. When my parents got back they asked if we had fun and were good and of course we told them it was wonderful and thanked them for letting us stay alone. All went well for an hour or so when my dad suddenly called us into the living room and asked us point blank if we had gone in the water when they were away. Foolishly we lied, but all of a sudden my intuition told me we were dead when he asked us if we went up on the roof ..so taboo. I knew my parents history about what happened to liars and before my friend could say anything I admitted to both betrayals of their trust. My dad thanked me for telling the truth finally but he knew it was only because I caught on that he knew. He told us to go to our room downstairs and he would be down shortly. My friend Anna and I scampered down and sat on the bed waiting. She asked what would happen next and I told her we were going to get spanked for sure. She started freaking out and asked all the normal questions about how and how many and with what. I couldn't really answer cause my parents spanked usually with the hand but on occasion I got the thick ruler and it really stung a ton. In awhile my mom came down and said she had talked to Anna's mom and that she was given permission to spank Anna along with what for me was a sure spanking. I honestly felt fortunate that it was mom and not dad as I know Anna would have died of embarrassement and my dads hurt like heck. After the lecture on disobeying, danger and lack of trust my mom took our bathing suits down (so totally embarrassing) and proceeded to spank our bare bottoms (Anna first) with her hand till we were howling. Then just as quick it was over and she pulled up our bathing suits and left us to compose. After a few minutes both Anna and I went up and apologized to mom and dad and told them we would never do that again. For the rest of the week we were angels and we had a ton of fun. To this day Anna and I are very close and she loves my parents almost as much as her own I think. At the time I couldn't figure out how my dad knew we were so disobedient and lied. Later on when the subject came up when I was a bit older he laughed and told me the neighbour had been asked to keep an eye on us. His report after caused us an embarrassing and painful spanking I probably won't ever forget. Getting a spanking at 11 is hard enough but in front of a best friend with your bathing suit at your ankles is as embarrassing as it gets.


I was about ten, my friend Lara and I climbed up onto the roof of my parents boathouse. This was, obviously, stupidly dangerous, if we had fallen from there, we might either have broken our necks or drowned, and the roof itself was so flimsy we could equally have fallen through it. When my dad came storming down the garden yelling at us both I knew I was in trouble, but this was worse than usual. When we got back up to the house he called Lara's house and spoke to her mother, and I remember bursting into tears when he announced, "Briony's got one hell of a spanking coming up - do you want me to spank Lara as well?" I remember Lara gasping next to me, but evidently, Lara's mother said no, she would do it herself, because when my father put the phone down, he told Lara that her mother was coming over to take her home for "a good hiding", and Lara burst into tears as well.
It was one of the few occasions I remember having to wait more than about three minutes for a spanking, it took about twenty minutes for Lara's mum to arrive, and after hugging Lara a tearful goodbye I was sent straight upstairs. Dad followed - with the slipper.


I met Jenny in at school and we have been friends ever since. We often got into trouble together at school with consequences, most of which our parents didn't find out about. However, one weekend when I was twelve I went camping with Jenny and her parents. She had a little brother so they thought we'd be good company for each other. We were told not to go to a certain area as it was boggy but as it was a short cut we decided to risk it the next day. We got stuck in the mud and Jenny lost one of her shoes. We came back covered in mud having both fallen over. Jenny's Mum was really mad and put Jenny over her knee and spanked her behind. She then looked at me and after a pause said, "You deserve one too," and so I got one as well. It was quite a spanking. We still remember it all those years later.


My younger sister, Matty, and I used to fight and argue quite a bit, especially in our early teens. One day in the school holidays she was in a real mood and wound Mum up over lunch so got herself spanked and sent to bed for an hour. She got up still in a mood and later on in the afternoon picked a fight with me (she swears to this day it was the other way round!) and so both of us made the journey over Mum's knee to the land of sore bottoms. That made me really mad but I was wise enough to know Mum was on the warpath. Not so Matty - after Dad came home she was really rude to Mum after tea. Dad, who had been informed of the misdemeanors, took her out to the other room from where we heard the sounds of 'No, I didn't mean it!' followed by the howls as she got her THIRD spanking of the day. That was a record for any of us and still stands! I must confess as I heard my pesky little sister being spanked I felt very smug indeed!


I was paddled at school at least once a year. My parents always signed a form at the beginning of the year indicating approval for their daughter to be spanked at school.

In elementary school. paddlings were typically given in the hallway, and could range from 2 - 5 swats, depending on the teacher. Most teachers gave 3, but a couple only gave 2 and one teacher was notorious for always giving 5 swats if it was your second time being paddled by her.

Of course my mom would always find out about my being paddled at school, and that meant another spanking at home. These spankings were usually given just like any other, except I got double the amount of swats I had been given with the paddle at school. In other words, a 3 swat paddling at school meant a 6 swat spanking at home. They were always given right after dinner, while I still had my regular clothes on, before changing into my pajamas. I always cried after these spankings, and inevitably wound up going to bed that night with a very warm and sore bottom.

When I got spanked at home, my mom would make me bend over a piece of furniture, or sometimes bent over the bed. I was always spanked with a wooden paddle, over my clothes, but it really didn't do much good because my mom spanked hard, always leaving me in tears after a spanking. 

What would happen when I got a spanking is that I would always be lectured first, then told to come to where mom was, if I wasn't already. Then I would be told to bend over, and get however many swats mom felt the offense warranted. Most times it was only 3, but a few times I got 5 or 6 swats, depending on what I had done to earn the spanking. Mom would always wait about 10 seconds between swats, and she spanked pretty hard, so I was almost always crying either during or especially after a spanking.

After my spanking mom would always give me a hug and let me know everything was OK again and I was forgiven for whatever it was I had been spanked for.

I remember finding mom's paddle in the closet one day and had the same reaction just being next to it as I did when mom was going to get it out to spank me with it.

What had happened was that I had gotten out of school early (I believe it was for spring break). Anyway we had horrible weather, and I was home alone. My dad was at work, and mom was out of town. I had taken the bus home and walked from my neighbor's house just down the street. 

I had the TV on and the weather people were talking about spotting a possible tornado in the area. I looked out the window and saw that the sky was really black, so I ran into mom's bedroom and hid in the closet. My arm hit something next to the wall, and when I felt around to see what it was, I could tell from the shape that it was the paddle.

Anyway my stomach started turning itself in knots and I started to feel a kinda tingly feeling in my behind. After a half hour or so of hiding, I climbed out of the closet, realizing that if there wasn't a tornado by now, we were never gonna get one. 

I was kinda curious about the paddle, so I got it out and held it for a minute. It was lighter than I thought, and very smooth. I reached down and pressed it against my bottom, and gave myself a swat, trying to see if I could spank myself as hard as mom spanked me. Turns out I couldn't, so I put it back in the closet and went upstairs to my room. I watched the news for the rest of the day, keeping an eye on the weather.


Mine happened one summer when my mother had taken me, my brother and sister and four of my cousins on a day trip to the seaside. It was a very hot day and the train trip was hellish so everyone was a bit crotchety by the time we reached the beach. As I was the oldest my mother expected me to help look after my younger cousins which I was not happy about.

The was a funfair near the beach and I wanted to go there but I was told I couldn't which put me in an even worse sulk than before. I then bumped into two school friends of mine who were going to the funfair and had what passed for a cunning plan. I asked mum if I could go and get us some ice creams and she gave me some money to get them, when she was distracted I sneaked off to the funfair with my friends.

We had only been there about quater of an hour when an announcment was made over the tannoys that Mary Lee had got lost and would she go to the entrance where her mother was waiting for her. My friends found this very funny but I felt mortified that I was being treated like a missing toddler.

We were seen by a policeman who having realised I was the Mary in question escorted me to the entrance where mum was waiting with a face like thunder.She then began scolding me at length and at some volume about my sulky attitude, running off, stealing her money, etc. After several minutes of this there were quite a few passerbys who had stopped to watch and my friend were standing there trying not to giggle too much. My temper got the better of me and I shouted "Shut up you old cow!" at mother. BIG MISTAKE.

Mother grabbed me my the arm and marched me over to the nearest bench. The was an elderly lady sitting there and mum asked her. "Do you mind if I sit here? My little brat is long overdue a good spanking." I was stunned I hadn't been smacked in public since I was about seven.

I was hauled across mums knee and my summer dress fell forward exposing my white knickers and she then launched a flurry of slaps to my bottom. I howled and begged and struggled all to no avail. My flip flops had fallen off and mum picked one of them up and began her conclusion.

"How dare you speak to me like that you in-so-lent child."  Each syllable followed by a full strength spank to my sore bottom with my hard plastic soled sandle.

My bottom was red but I'm sure my face was redder especially when the policeman who had found me complimented mum on her technique!


I was also spanked by someone other than my parents on two separate occasions.

The first time happened when I was 8 years old and staying with a neighbor while my parents were out of town. Anyway one night I was up really late and was reading a book out loud to the neighbor's daughter (who was already asleep). Next thing I know, the lady is yelling through the intercom system in their house for me to come downstairs right this minute!!! I knew I was in trouble, but was not expecting what was coming next. I didn't know that my parents had given the neighbor permission to spank me if she thought I needed it.

When I got downstairs, I got yelled at a little more, then told I was going to get spanked. My neighbor got out the paddle she used on her daughters (one of those paddleball game type paddles) and tells me to bend over. The next thing I know, the paddle is setting my bottom on fire. I lose count of how many swats I ended up getting, but it had to be around 20 - 25 or so. Finally the spanking ends and I stand up, tears running down my face. I am then ordered to go to bed and stay there. 

My bottom was still sore the next morning, but to make matters worse, my neighbor tells my parents what happened when they got home a couple of days later, so I ended up getting another spanking from my mom for having to be spanked by the neighbor.

The other incident occurred when I was 11 and mom had left me with a babysitter because she and dad had to go out of town for the day and wouldn't be back until late that night. 

Anyway what happened was that I was irritated because a TV show was on that I wanted to watch but my babysitter wouldn't let me. Finally after a few minutes of fighting over the remote, she asks me if I wanted a spanking. I ignored her and changed the channel on the TV set. Mom had shown her where she kept the paddle that she used on me, and told her to use it if she needed to.

Next thing I know, the babysitter leaves the room, but little did I know she was going to get the paddle. She came back into the den a few seconds later and says that in so many words she's had it with my brattiness and she had permission from my parents to spank, and she was gonna give me a spanking. I still didn't believe her, despite the fact that she was holding mom's paddle in her hand. 

A few seconds later, the babysitter tells me to come to where she is standing, in the middle of the floor, bend over, and put my hands on my knees. I come over there, realizing by now that I'm gonna get spanked regardless of how I try and get out of it. The babysitter tells me again to bend over, then proceeds to take aim at my bottom and give me at least 10 swats with the paddle. Luckily she didn't drag out the spanking like mom did, or I would have been really sore. Still I was spanked hard enough to leave tears in my eyes.
 


When I was 8 our family visited Washington D.C. to see the sights & being the early 60's there were a lot of tacky gift & novelty shops to look in. In one I saw a bunch of novelty paddles hanging like "Attitude Adjuster" & "Board of Education", they also had the classic "For The Little Deer With The Bear Behind" with the Deer & Bear being cartoons. My behind had always been paddled with a Classic "Fli-Back Mustang" paddle from the kids game with the ball on the elastic string. My Mom bought the "Little Deer" paddle to give to my Aunt as a gag-gift. Anyway, time passed & I decided her Fli-Back paddle should disappear from her desk drawer where it resided between uses & I slipped it into the can on trash day. As bad-luck would have it my mother was looking for it a week or so later to apply to my bare fanny, unable to locate it she remembered the spare she had bought in D.C. & used it instead. Boy! I never thought I'd miss her old paddle. Her new one was like sitting on a hornets' nest. That became my enemy for the next 5 years.


I was had not been spanked for sometime when I got caught stealing form a local store. As the store people were talking to me a policeman walked in and asked what was going on and the store clerk told him I had been caught stealing. The policeman offered to take me home and explain to my parents. When mom was told what had happened, she thanked the policeman and said she would deal with me. The officer smiled and left. Mom put her hand on my shoulder and led me to their room where she pulled the chair from her dresser into the center of the room. She got the hairbrush from the top drawer and sat down in the chair. She looked at me and said "Susan Leigh pull down your pants." When she was really upset with me she used my middle name to. She than told me how upset and dissapointed she was with me and that she had called dad at work and he told her to be sure I got a good sound spanking. After a long lecture about stealing and my behavior she finally said to me "Get over my knees." I was spanked long and hard and when it was over and I was let up she continued the lecture as i stood there tears rolling down my cheeks and my butt absolutely on fire. When she was done she told me to pull up my pants and go to my room.
That was my last and worst spanking that I can remember.


My memory of that day is very, very clear, probably because, though it was not the hardest spanking I ever got (though I think it might have been my sister Janna's worst memory), it was the only time I was spanked without having been guilty as charged. I think in order to explain fully I have to give the background on this one.
So, briefly as possible, here is what happened - for Christmas a few weeks earlier, Janna had received a set of crayons but they weren't just ordinary ones, these were fabulous, glow-in-the-dark fluorescent crayons - she adored them immediately and I had no sooner clapped eyes on them than I wanted some of my own. But they were Janna's, not mine, and hers to lend or withold. She quickly got so tired of my asking to borrow them that eventually she said 'no'. A couple of times I executed a raid on her bedroom behind her back and used the things anyway. She was furious both times, and eventually hid them in a hiding place I still don't know where - it was a very good hiding place, wherever it was.
We had both gone through a phase at about the same time, though earlier than this story, of using our coloured pencils, crayons or markers to decorate the walls with - obviously this was absolutely forbidden, we had both been spanked for it in the past, and I don't know what prompted Janna to do it again - she used her fabulous crayons to crayon the wall behind the sofa in the living room. It was a place that would never normally have been seen, except that we were having a problem with mice at the time, Mum had put some traps down, and one afternoon moved the sofa to check the traps or vacuum the mouse-evidence or something - and Janna was with her. I think Janna was just thinking fast on her feet, when Mum saw the wall, and what she thought was, "if there's going to be a spanking, it would be better if it's not mine!" - so being a consummate actress (actually, all this time later, I do have a sort of reluctant admiration for her presence of mind!), instead of instantly saying, "Briony did it!" she just howled, "But she used my crayons!" - I heard her from the next room.
Next, Mum was yelling for me, and I came, and looked goggle eyed at the wall, and when Mum asked me point blank if I was responsible, of course I denied it. The trouble was as all three of us knew, I would have denied it whether I had done it or not, I would say the sky was green and grass was blue to get out of a spanking so denial didn't help my case and was taken as proof of guilt rather than the opposite. So I was hauled off to my room where Mum gave me a spanking with the hairbrush. I screamed and shrieked throughout as usual, but after it was over, it was almost worse, even once the burning sting had died down the injustice hurt worse. Mum arrived back in the room a bit later to begin the comforting reconciliation part of the ordeal as was usual, but she didn't find me even remotely calmer than I had been when she had left me, if anything I was in a worse state. She sat down on the bed, and let me crawl into her lap as normal - though confused and hurt I was even more desperate for cuddles than usual - and she said,
"Oh come on Bri, it's really not the end of the world!"
But to me, it was. I carried on bawling incomprehensibly trying to show my innocence, into her shoulder, and was utterly inconsolable. Mum grew still, and after a minute or so of this, she muttered,
"Oh God. You didn't do it, did you?"
I was so relieved she had got the point that I managed to stop sobbing for long enough to howl, "But I don't even know where she hid them!"
I remember her hugging me very tightly for a few seconds, saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" then she kind of pushed me away and said, "I'm coming back but I have to go and deal with your sister right now!" and she left the room yelling for Janna.
This is one time I remember Janna, who would have been seven at the time, being at least as terrified as I was before a spanking, because as Mum was dragging her off to her room, I heard her tell Janna that she was going to get lots more spanks than I had had, because not only had she done the original crime, but she had also lied, and let me get spanked for it. I was still so upset on my own account that I couldn't possibly feel sorry for my sister that time, but it did sound like an extra long spanking that she got.
By the end of that afternoon, all three of us were as wrung out as a set of dishcloths, and later that night was one of the few times I remember seeing my mother cry. She felt horribly, terribly guilty. We were supposed to be in bed, but I wasn't sleepy, and I went and sat on the stairs and saw my mother crying to my dad, and my dad trying to make her feel better, saying things like, "It's OK, Bri will survive!" - and of course, I did.
Epilogue - it took Janna a couple of years to tell me freely that she was sorry about that day, but she did in the end.
One unexpected effect of having been spanked when innocent, was that I felt I had won a sort of get-out-of-jail free card as far as being spanked was concerned, needless to say, if indeed I had, it wasn't all that long before I found it had expired!


I know it was a long time ago, but now today, it leaves me wondering if I might not be alone with my childhood experiences.
My mother was sickly when I was a child and the local parish priest was the closest trusted male in my life. My mother was unable to deal with me as a youngster(7-12) and thus began sending me to a man of authority.
The priest was a friend of the family and community and a feared and respected figure. My mother would send a note for me to take to him when I was caught misbehaving.
It was an agreement between them that he could and would punish me in ANY way he felt or though appropriate, in any way he wished. He chose spanking and that's all he used. There was no negotiating or reasoning and no amount of pleading and promising ever lessened the punishment.
In those days girls only ever wore skirts or dresses and it was always across his lap. I was to pass him the note and after a short discussion about the offence he would take me gently by the hand and lead me to a private room for the punishment.
At first it was just on my clothes but over time it progressed to him lifting me over his lap and then raising my dress followed by him hauling my panties down. He only ever hand spanked. It was very painful. I was so ashamed. Looking back I would say there were times when he slapped my bottom very hard, too hard, maybe as hard as he could.
I dont remember counting but he would say that this offence deserved this amount etc. and proceed to put me over. Usually around 30 whacks was enough to render me crying and sorry. Nothing inappropriate, just a spanking.


I did get to witness my preacher's daughter (her name was Stephanie) get a bare bottom spanking from her mother out in their car. She and I were in the same Sunday School class (we were both 11) and she was spending too much time giggling with her girlfriends to pay attention to the lessons and her mom was the teacher of our class. She made her sit in a corner and told her she would deal with her after the class. I had to go out to my dad's car after Sunday School was over and while I was outside I got to see what her mom meant by "dealing" with her. I heard Stephanie's voice pleading "no Mommy not here" and looked over and saw her mother sitting on the passenger's side with the door open. She was sitting with her legs outside of the car and Steph was standing in front of her I watched her reach under Stephanie's dress and then her panties were down around her ankles. I hid in the backseat trying not to be seen while I watched the drama unfold. Steph was bent over her mom's knee and her dress raised. I was shocked to see her pale chubby bottom and then her mom started spanking her hard and fast, scolding her the whole time about acting like that in God's house. A few moments later she let Stephanie up and she rubbed her bottom through her dress with her panties still down crying. Her mom told her to put her panties on and get ready for church. After they went in, I finally slipped out of our car and went in as well. She never knew what I witnessed.


I was spanked by my parish priest once it was when I was at primary school and I was part of the choir. On a friday afternoon we had a benediction service at the church round the corner. School finished after that so we took our bags with us to church and mine had a football in it. As we were leaving the ball fell out of my bag and started bouncing down the spiral stairs of the choir loft. Myself and a couple of friends set off after it and as I rounded the last corner the ball had come to rest next to our headmistress. She was a very fierce woman and our looks of fear at the expression on her face were taken as proof of our "guilt" of playing football in church and we were in a world of trouble. I was handed over to my mother who was waiting to collect me with threats of punishment to come on Monday morning. I spent the weekend in disgrace and was sent to bed early each night with a well-spanked bottom from mum. On monday the three of us were called out in front of assembly by our headmistress who scolded us so fiercely we were almost in tears by the time she finished.
We were then taken to her office where we had bend over her desk for 12 whacks with a plimsole on our bare bottoms. We then dressed again and were escorted by our headmistress to the priests house where we were given a personalised sermon on sin and damnation he told us he was going to punish us and produced a strap we each got 4 strokes on the backs of our legs - 4 strokes on your bottom and as the "ringleader" I also got 2 whacks on each hand.  I don't think I had ever cried so much.


This would be one I got when I was seven and we had another family, friends of my parents', staying for the weekend. They had kids, two girls and boy, much of an age with Janna and I and we all loved it when they came to stay, or when we went to stay with them.
It was Sunday lunch time, we were having a very traditional meal, the Sunday Roast, normally delicious, and one of the accompanying vegetables happened to be steamed cabbage. Green vegetables had recently become a bit of an issue with me, my mother could not be bothered to try and make me eat them, and as long as I ate plenty of fruit would let that go, my father believed not only that children should eat whatever was put in front of them, but also that they should have no say about what was put in front of them. I muttered quietly that I didn't want any cabbage thank you, he glared me into silence and heaped a pile of cabbage on my plate. I decided not to make a fuss, but there was no way I was going to eat it, the smell of it was making me feel like gagging. I could hide some of it under my plate, under the table mat, if there was enoug gravy on it, I could sneak it under the table and the dog would eat it - I thought I was being incredibly subtle and creative about making the bloody cabbage disappear, but my dad had his eye on me, saw me dropping some on the floor for the dog and then discovered where most of the rest of it had gone. He did not say anything, just grabbed me by the shoulder and marched me up the stairs. I knew where I was being taken and what for, but this was one time when I didn't start creating merry hell on the way up there because I didn't want the other family to know what was going on - although obviously, they did! Up in my bedroom, of course, he put me over his knee and gave me a spanking. I lost all my silent resolve as soon as I was over his knee, and did my usual performance during the spanking itself. Afterwards, presumably because we had company he gave me a choice - I could either come downstairs and eat all of my dinner including some more cabbage, or I could go hungry, and stay in my room until he told me I could come out. I could not face the cabbage or my friends, I was so mortified that they had heard the entire spanking from the dining room where they were sitting was directly below my bedroom. So I elected to stay upstairs and the others were forbidden to come and see me. I had to listen to them playing in the garden, but my father and I had reached a stalemate on this one. He could not believe I would choose to eat nothing rather than eat a meal that included cabbage and as far as I was concerned, I would rather have starved. Eventually he came up and let me out of my room so I could play with the others, but I'd lost a couple of valuable hours by then, their sympathy embarrassed me, and I was furious with my father. I didn't dare be rude to his face, but he was angry with me too, I avoided him and he had no desire to talk to me either. It was a really miserable day.
That's the only time I remember being spanked for refusing to eat something, but as it wasn't the only time I refused, there were lots of stormy rows, and other punishments, having to stand in the kitchen for hours staring at a plate of cabbage I wasn't permitted to leave until I had eaten - I remember quietly dropping some cabbage in a pair of wellington boots once and disposing of it later, also dropping some behind the washing machine on another occasion. I also remember being scared when we went to other people's houses as guests or to restaurants as a family in case some unannounced vegetable was going to be sprung on me and my dad would be coldly furious until I had choked it down. Being scared of food hung on until long after I was in my teens.


I had an "interest" in spanking for as long as I can remember. My earliest memory is from age 4. I don't think I understood it (not that I do now either!) back then, but I knew enough not to discuss it openly and to be discreet about it. One of the things I used to do to satisfy my curiousity was at sleep-overs. There is always this time when everyone finally settles down and is ready to sleep when we all would talk about whatever- I guess more serious subjects. So I always asked the other girls, "What was the most trouble you ever got into and what happened?" That was my subtle way of trying to find out if they were spanked and how. I still remember every single answer from every girl who was spanked.


I remember pleading to keep my panties up when I was going to get a spanking and mom said "Your panties didn't do anything wrong."
One of the first times my mom used that line I felt like I had no answer for it and as I went over her knee I had a real duh-oh feeling????


I was one who had to 'try out' the teachers to see how they would react. My friend Jenny was often an accomplice. On one such occasion when Jenny and I were sent out of the classroom for generally baiting the teacher. We got a fit of the giggles and were sent out. We were in a very silly mood and played around in the corridor. Unfortunately we were caught by the head who happened to be on her rounds and we both got the slipper. Now we'd only had a slippering from the games teacher about a couple of weeks before for messing around in the changing rooms when we were not supposed to be there so here was another painful experience. As we left the head's office rubbing two sore bottoms Jenny said to me, 'Ouch! I think I'll order an armour plated bottom for Christmas.' I thought that was so funny I started giggling and we both giggled our way back to the classroom in spite of the fact we had just been spanked. We were still giggling when we came back into the classroom but our teacher said, "Do you want to go back for some more?" so we thought discretion was the better part of valour and stopped.


I had several public spankings growing up. I was spanked in our car at a drive in restaurant (the kind where a girl wearing roller skates brought your order). I was 6 I think.
I was spanked in the outer area of the ladies restroom in a department store in Traverse City MI when I was 6 or 7. I was spanked in the living room in a small apartment over a small mom and pop type store after I stole a comic from the store when I was 9. Each of those spankings was from my mother with non-family witnesses, and like virtually all of my spankings, were bare bottom.


Oh yes, a grandparents' job is to spoil not parent. I remember when our daughter threw a fit at the table when my folks were visiting, my husband marched her off to the bedroom from whence came the sounds of a much-deserved spanking. My father murmered, "Don't be too hard on her!" I thought back to the sore bottoms I'd had from him in my youth and thought, "You hypocrite!"


My most memorable public spanking was at a church picnic when I was 7. It took place at a lake and we kids had been warned about horsing around near the lake shore. I don't remember exactly how it happened but I and the minister's daughter fell into the water. It was only knee high so we climbed out easily but our clothes were muddy and soaked. I got the blame and mom marched me to an open picnic table, stood me on the top and began removing my wet clothes. I begged her not to remove my underwear but to no avail. When those came off, she sat herself on the table top, put me across her lap and spanked me soundly. I remember looking around during my spanking, most parents diverted their eyes, but the kids were transfixed staring at me being spanked.
When my spanking was over, she grabbed my arm and took me to our car which overlooking the picnic area. She put me naked in the backseat of the car and then laid my wet clothes on the hood of the car to dry in the sun. I spend the rest of the time watching the picnic from the backseat of our car. 
A boy came up to the car at one point and I slid up against the door so he couldn't see me below my shoulders. He had brought me a cupcake and we talked a bit. Other kids then came up, but they came to tease me and came up both sides of the car, making it impossible for me to block their view from both sides at the same time. Finally their parents saw what was going on and chased them away.


My mom had "For the Cute Little Deer with the Bear Behind" Paddle as well, but it was almost never actually used for a spanking. It showed a picture of a fawn being followed by a bear cub and perhaps because of this, I didn't get the pun (just as you said, BD). Mom got it as a gag baby shower gift when my younger brother was born (I was 6 -- almost 7 then, my little sister was 4). I suspect one or both of us had been pestering Mom or our aunt about all the presents being for the baby. My aunt gave another wrapped present to my mom and said, "This one can be for all of you." I may not have got the pun, but I certainly recognized the paddle when it was opened, and I didn't laugh like the other guests.


Did anyone else have a very different feeling when you were around a spanking implement that had no other "reason for being" than spanking? As a kid we knew that there were many implements used for spanking but somehow when we were in the presence of a single purpose implement we noticed it. It induced an eerie presence. A more or less similar reaction occurred when we were around an instance of a multi-purpose implement that had been "dedicated" to spanking only. Usually these implements were referred to as THE slipper, or THE hairbrush or, in my usual case, THE yardstick.

The mom of a slightly younger neighborhood girl had acquired one of the souvenier spanking paddles and hung it up in the kitchen. Soon the word spread and a bunch of us stopped over to see it. We were looking at all the drawings and the silly puns and nervously giggling. We even offered to sign on the back under the Victim Sign Here line. I remember so well the reaction to our comments by the girl whose mom owned the paddle: "If you guys had ever felt it, you wouldn't be laughing."


I got a spanking off my piano teacher when I was ten. I had a habit of being late for her lesson and forgetting my music and she threatened me if I did it again she'd put me over her knee. I didn't take the threat too seriously until one day I was late because I had stopped to talk with some other girls on my way from school and had also forgotten my piece of music I was praticing. She said, "I think you need another sort of lesson today," and put me over her knee and prodeeded to warm my bottom. The lesson continued with me sitting on a sore behind. I never forgot my music again. As my mum used to say, "Children have their brains in funny places!"

My friend Jenny's Mum was a very good spanker. I went camping with her and her folks when I was about 12.  We went somewhere we shouldn't and got covered in mud.  And Jenny lost a shoe which her father had to go and find. Jenny's Mum was real mad at us and put Jenny straight over her knee and spanked her. Then she looked at me and said, "Well, I supposed you'd better have one too!" So I got one as well!


My neighbour Anna and I would copy the spankings we got from our parents as a game. It must be exact, so with bare bottom and same number of smacks but of course not too hard but enough to make a sting. We also with two other friends from our block played games of mama and naughty children, we took turns to be mama and we gave and received spankings usually on bare bottoms but sometimes with underwear. We were girls only and we played from age of about to 6 to 11 years old. I liked our games and would always be the naughtiest so I would get most spankings!


My cousins and I played "house" or "family" as kids. My boy cousin was the oldest, so he made the rules. I was next youngest and his two sisters were younger than me. Somehow no matter what went on in our play, we girls always managed to get spanked for some often very flimsy reasons! He didn't spank hard, I suppose for fear his sisters would tell on him, but as for me, I would never have told! He often spanked us on our bare bottoms. I don't recall that he was EVER on the receiving end.


It was not 'completely' unfair, although still very much unfair. I remember it as the day of yesterday, while it is more than fifty years ago. I don't know my exact age anymore, somewhere between five and seven. It was past "good spanking age", but it was one of the first ever I remember.

I hated chicory (French endives) with a bitter hate. We had to eat all that was served, but were allowed to take our own portions, within the margins of the reasonable. But I literally could not stomach my chicory. I was fuzzing and fuzzing, slowly the food was deminishing on my plate, leaving those hateful sordid leaves behind. Everybody had a long time finished eating, while I was still struggling with the leftovers of my chicory.

It was the first of two times ever, my dad lost his patience with me. He had known hunger, real hunger, as a child, he was very sensitive to 'spoiledness' when it came to good food, cooked lovingly by my mother who he (rightly) adored as a kitchen queen. 

Suddenly he rose from his chair, saying something I forgot. He grabbed me, put his foot on my chair, pulled me over his knee, stripped off my underpants and nearly in the same movement, gave me some of the very best spanks ever given in the world. He was truly angry, and did I feel that. Still in the same fluid motion, he grabbed me again in my waist with both his hands, planted me with a smack on my burning seat in the chair, as I was, with my poor little panties halfmast in my knees. "And now, you eat your chicory, and fast, or it will hurt". It will hurt??? I can still feel it, every bit of it, my bottom felt like being skinned alive, as if I had sat inadvertently on a hot stove. I retched and gagged my chicory in, being very aware of the fire spitting eyes of my father, watching every antic. Think about living cockroaches on your plate, having to take these one by one, crush them between your teeth and eat them slowly. Chicory is worse. 
I was very much aware of my poor naked and suffering bottom, and I was even more sick of fear that my dad would give me a repeat session than sick of disgust. I ate my cockroaches, excuse me, chicory. 

I never forgave him that spanking. But, I admit, when my husband makes chicory in cheese and ham, I can eat it. With loads of cheese to hide the bitter taste, but I eat it: a well educated little girl who learned to eat everything that is served to her... even cockroaches.


The only time I can recall being unfairly spanked when I was 11 or 12..I had not been spanked in some time as my parents were moving towards more age appropriate discipline. However this one evening I had wanted to go out with some friends but was told I could not as I had not finished the dishes. My parents went to the store for 30 mins to pick up a few things and left me instructions to complete the dishes. When they came baqck they walked into a mess. I had not done the dishes yet and more so the pot of homemade pasta sauce was not on the kitchen floor and its remains splattered all overthe walls and ceiling of my mothers dream kithcen. I was ushered upstairs without a chance to explain and quickly find myself over my mothers lap with my bare backside exposed and getting spanked with a wooden spoon. Some time in my room later with my feelings hurt, my backside on fire it was discovered the family dog had jumped onto the counter and knocked said pot over...

Totally unfair and humiliated I was.


Well, it wasn't me getting the spanking that was unfair, it was my little brother and by my Aunt. We were at her house for a week and were told a million times not to cross the small river behind the house. One day after being bored beyond belief, my brother and I decided to go under the bridge. We had to wade into the river a little, then go under it. We were looking for who knows what. I don't remember. While under there, and playing around, like we shouldn't have, some kid was on the bridge and dropped a not too big, and not too small of a rock off the bridge on purpose. It landed on my brothers head and caused a gash along with him crying. Well, I figured we're both toast on this one. It's hard to hide blood gushing out of a head wound. Anyway... a long story short. The kid had to get stitches in his head, and when he got home, my Aunt hauled him over her lap and spanked him bare with a hairbrush. Now, why she didn't haul me over her lap too, I'm not sure. I don't think that was fair for my brother to get punished after getting his head bashed and having to get stitches. She should have let it be. Why I never got a spanking or even got a lecture is beyond me. Since that day, I don't talk to that lady beyond a hi..and it's been like 48 years.


When i was 10 years old i toke my 4y old Sister in trouble and a totally wrongfully spanking. A week before my Mum told me that i have to "babysit" my Sister and play with her while Mum and Dad recondition a room in our house. I dont have desire to it and let my littel sister play allone look at a TV show and ignored her when she ask me to play with her or whatever. Our parents have a rule about inside and outsite games there we now exactly but my siser was boringly and so she walk in our room, pic up a tennis racket and throw with a tennisball. First only in our room and than in the floor. I hear it in this moment but it was to late, she throw the ball in the mirror and broke him in thousend pieces.
Oh what a fright, i run out of the livingroom but to late, mum and dad were first at the place of this happening. OK a long writing for a simple fakt, we got it both and not only a mum or dad spanking. No we got it both from Mum and Dad.
I felt it totaly unfar that i got a spanking to and not only my sister i was the opinion that she have the debt alone but nothing what i say could protect my bum. Oh i was so angry about my littel sister and so mutch self-pity with myself.
I want rage and so one week later i see a opportunity to sold her back was she broke me in.
At this day my sister play with a friend in the garden in the backyard from our house. Dad was in his sports club and mum was in the kitchen. My sister ask my mum an hour early whethere it might drive by scooters with her friend. Mum allowed is togethere with the warning not to drive with the scooters in front of our carport. You must know that at the left side beside the carport we have a littel place to ride bike or scooter enclose from a small fence. Our car parket in an open garage under our house and the way there was steep. Ok i hear was mum say and wait for a while, mum goes in the kitchen and let me in allone and so i see my chance. I go out, look at my sister and see that both she and her friend was deep concentrated in her games. I was very evil on this day, i go in the front of our house, grab the scooter from my sister and pressed and scratched him at the front from our car, than i do the same with the trycicle who was used from her friend. I put both back at the fence and walk back in very quietly.
Later on this day ou dad come home and he see what was happend. It was a Drama, he shout at mum, mum shout at my sister. Than both shout at my sister and told her not to lie than it was clear that she was it. Than dad pomise my sister the slipper and told mum that she spank her first with the wooden spoon wich mum did and not to less. Dad in this time walk down the street to tell the parents of my sisters girfriend (she was at her home at this time) whats going on and that both girls have damage our car.
As he came back he grab my crying littel sister and carrie her without a word in the sleeping room from our parents. Than she got her first spanking with a slipper from our dad and she cry soooo loud :-(
We dont got it often from both mum and dad and two double spankings i one week. My poor littel sister. I had a bad certain but i hold my mouth closed. A couple of days later has i experiences that also the friend of my sister got a spanking. I feelt so guilty but i dont say a word.


As a little kid, I remember I didn’t believe I would get a spanking, even till I was bare bottom over the knee. When my mother’s hand hit me sharply, I howled at her first stroke as a little pig brought to the slaughter. 
With increasing age, spankings became rare. I was acutely aware that my older sibs had no vision, but good sound. You didn’t want to be a cry baby, but when giving the rare spanking, dad was a strong man with a hard hand, determined to teach a painful lesson. I was a wiry girl, well built, not squeamish and quite resistant to pain. But on my bare bottom, the sting kept building up and his hand kept hitting me always harder till it got me and it hurt, excuse me the language, goddamn too much. More than I could take.
So at first, I clenched bottom and teeth, as the pain increased I changed to “Ooh! Ouch! Ahh!” and as my spanking went on, I had to give up and ended with “Oww howw howw howw howwwww —”, my yells conflagrated to the uninterrupted howling of a kid that gives up to a good spanking. Then my spanking finished at full “little girl spanking strength” “to rub it in”.


When my sibling's spanking was over and if necessary mom had them turn to me and she told them to "Tell you sister your sorry for.....". With hands on their freshy spanked bottoms they would turn and through tears and sniffles tell me they were sorry. I always felt that it was truly spoken. Although I never really thought too much about it, having witnessed them get it and hearing their apology seemed to make it right. I know when it was my turn and I apologized, I felt sorry for what I had done.

I felt that a spanking I got was for my misbehavior and it did not correct the fact that I had done it, but rather I did not want to do it again in the future. The fact that at that point I had a well spanked bottom I felt that it was over. I believe I felt that way because that was how my parents wanted it to come out. 

There were times when what I had done disappointed my parents and they told me about it as part of their lecture. I felt they were disappointed with me. Other times was not that they were disappointed with me, but upset with what I had done. It depended on what my misbehavior was. Usually when told I was going to get it, like my siblings I would tear up and start to promise to be good. When I saw the hairbrush is generally when I started to think about how much it was going to sting and then to the point of no return when my panties went down.

Yes I did mind my spankings and as it went on I would squirm and wriggle trying to escape the hairbrush and it would earn a reminder to be still or my spanking would be longer and finally waiting for the hairbrush to finish it's work. When it was over I was let up and did my hot bottom dance for a few moments then my panties were pulled up, there were hugs and it was over. The sting lasted for awhile after and depending on what time of day I had been spanked was pretty much gone by bedtime. More than once though I would sit at my school desk in the morning and remember my previous day's spanking.


Did anyone else have a very different feeling when you were around a spanking implement that had no other "reason for being" than spanking? As a kid we knew that there were many implements used for spanking but somehow when we were in the presence of a single purpose implement we noticed it. It induced an eerie presence. A more or less similar reaction occurred when we were around an instance of a multi-purpose implement that had been "dedicated" to spanking only. Usually these implements were referred to as THE slipper, or THE hairbrush or, in my usual case, THE yardstick.

The mom of a slightly younger neighborhood girl had acquired one of the souvenier spanking paddles and hung it up in their kitchen. Soon word spread and a bunch of us stopped over to see it. We were looking at all the drawings and the silly puns and nervously giggling. We even offered to sign on the back under the Victim Sign Here line. I remember so well the reaction to our comments by the girl whose mom owned the paddle: "If you had ever felt it, you wouldn't be laughing!"


I attended a small parochial school (one class per grade).My eighth grade teacher was an ardent anti smoker. During one of his diatribes he stated that after he caught one of his daughters smoking, he pulled her panties down and spanked her. Mr. Williams had three daughters, Susan and Sally, twins aged 8, and Janet age 12 and a classmate!
Janet turned beet red as all eyes focused on her. She was teased unmercifully for days. I felt sorry for her and told her I was also subject to spankings as did several others. This little clique of "still spanked kids" formed and we were all close even when we went to high school.


The neighboring farm kids had a switch available. There were 4 boys and two girls at their farm. Well, being spanked with my mom's hand on the bare was nothing like these kids got with that switch. I was always frightened to go there after witnessing one of the younger girls about age 8 get a whipping with that thing. I was shocked and very scared at the time. To this day I still don't know what Karen did. Her dad just grabbed that switch and her and whaled on her backside about ten times. It had to have hurt. It was summer and she was wearing shorts.

Yes, I saw the whole thing. I hadn't noticed before, but the switch was leaning against the wall near their fireplace. Their farm had no inside running water, no inside bathroom. You had to go to the outhouse and pump your own water from a pump outside. I was about six years old at the time, so that switch looked rather large when their dad held it. But in comparison to their father, it was probably about two feet long and all its leaves had been stripped off. It was pretty thin looking. The only thing I can think of is, his daughter did something before that he found out about, or, she didn't do something that maybe she should have because it was a farm and I'm sure there were chores to be done. They had chickens, crops, pigs, and a cow for milk. 

Her dad came in the room which didn't even have carpet on it. It was a wooden floor and not finished. I remember because we were playing jacks. If you don't know what jacks is, its a game with a little ball and these metal pieces. You bounce your ball, then pick up a certain amount of jacks and catch your ball with the same hand as the jacks you just picked up. I don't think they sell that game anymore. But, we were playing that game, her dad walked in from outside through the open door very fast, went and picked up the switch and looked at Karen. She got up quick and tried to make a dash for the back door. He was too quick, grabbed her and held her under his arm bent over and whaled on her backside. She howled as I sat there still on the floor with the jacks in my hand. I didnt know whether to run myself or if I was going to get that switch too. My mom wasn't around for me to go to for comfort from being scared, so I just sat there dumbfounded watching this girl in plain agony yelping with each whip of that switch over her shorts. I think her parents were babysitting me for the day or something I'm not sure. 

Every time I drive by their farm, I remember that incident. The farmhouse has been torn down for many many years and there are condos there now, but I remember that farm as plain as day in my mind and I remember each and every one of their names. Their mom looked like a farm woman and wore a house dress like you'd see in the 1930's dust bowl photos. I had a very big crush on the younger brother of hers who was my age.


There was only one time I got a spanking that "didn't really hurt", which was the one time in my life that my grandmother spanked me. I would have been quite little, maybe six or seven, I'd been left with my grandmother for the morning while my mother took my younger sister to the clinic, I think, and I was behaving like an absolute brat.
It had never occurred to me that my cuddly grandmother, who usually spoiled me rotten would lose her rag, and spank me, and when she did scoop me up and put me over her knee in the living room I was shocked and outraged more than anything. It was so sudden I didn't really have time to go free-falling into the usual panic I got into when I was told I was going to be spanked. 
This was also the only time I wasn't spanked bare bottom, she spanked me on my knickers, and gave me a few spanks with her hand and then a few more with her hairbrush. Of course it stung, but not as much as it did when my parents spanked me, and though I burst into tears with the first smack, and wailed as usual, I had to reflect, seconds later, when it ended as abruptly as it begun, that actually, compared to what it could have been had it been Mum or Dad wielding that hairbrush, that I had got off easy.

Did I let on? No, of course not, I carried on as if I'd been the victim of an attempted murder. There were three main reasons for this - first, I didn't want to admit that it hadn't been that bad and tempt Grandma to maybe go for seconds. Second, it hadn't occurred to me that I would ever have to feel scared that my grandmother would spank me, so now I was wary, and third, I wanted to make her feel guilty. I've no idea if she did or not - probably not!

Yes, I did learn from it - I learned not to be a bad girl for Grandma again!


I was about nine yo. and in front of four friends, Mom grabbed me and turned me over for about 20 swats on my jeans. She stood me up and said "Now what have you to say?" "That didn't even hurt" I sniffled. Wrong answer. 
She tugged my jeans and underwear down and repeated my spanking. From then on all my spankings were on my bare bottom!


My best friend growing up (we still communicate over Facebook) got a lot of spankings from both her parents. I don't think they were abusive but she just got spanked for doing anything wrong. She didn't seem to fear her parents but did get scared if we did something "bad" or were "disobedient" that she might get caught. I was only at her house once when she got spanked by her mom. I didn't see it but my ears told me it was bare bottom with her mother's hand. It didn't go on for long but I could hear her crying so I knew it hurt. She didn't really like to talk about them too much even with my urging but she would say at school or playground she got a sore bum last night or today so I knew she got them way more often than me.


I think my friend Sara's parents spanked her and her siblings a lot. 
Anyway, Sara and I were very good friends in primary school (up to age 11 here in the UK).  

The two of us got into trouble for climbing up onto the roof of my parents' boathouse. Once we had been ordered to get down, and were escorted rather forcibly back into the house, my father telephoned Sara's mother and told her he was about to spank me for what I had done, and actually asked her if she would like him to spank Sara too. At this point, knowing what was in store for me, I was already crying, but when my dad came off the phone and announced to Sara "I'm not going to spank you, your mother's coming up to take you home for a good hiding!" Sara burst into tears. One of the things she sobbed during the next few minutes before her mother arrived, was "Oh no, not again!" 

Once Sara had been collected I had my own bottom to worry about, but later I did remember about her "not again" reaction, and a day or two later, the next time I saw her, I asked her how bad it had been. She said it had been "the same bad, like usual", and on talking more, it seemed that she and her siblings got spanked much more frequently than we did. A couple of times after that when I was over at her house, I could hear a commotion upstairs when one or both of her younger siblings was getting a spanking, and Sara's reaction to it was just a shrug - as if it was so usual, it was hardly worth bothering about, very different from my own reactions at home when my sister was getting spanked, which I always found scary and painful to listen to.


One time when I was little I finally got my friend and my friend's sister to talk about how they got spanked. They said their mom spanked them with a belt and their dad with his hand, always on their bare bottoms. They said that their dad's spankings hurt more. I found it hard to believe that a hand spanking could hurt more than the belt. But I guess their mom was kind of small and weak. She sure didn't strike me like that when I was little though! She was usually very nice, but if she was ticked off she could be the one of the scariest persons I knew. When I met her years later she seemed like such a nice kind church lady and if you met her you'd probably think "she couldn't hurt a fly." Well, she'd think nothing of tanning a girl's bare little bottom with a belt, I can tell you!

It did make me relieved that even though I got spanked I didn't get it nearly as often as my friend and my friend's sister. Their parents even kept a weekly checklist on their fridge for minor infractions. If they got more than 10 marks they got a spanking. I always tried to sneak a peak at the two lists on their fridge to see if one of them was on the verge of getting it. 

We moved neighborhoods and who should live across the street but another mother who was also a very frequent spanker. Their mom wasn't that religious, just a control freak. Her favorite method was her wooden spoon to their bare bottoms. My last bare bottom spanking I got was with a large wooden spoon, it was only about five really hard whacks but stung and made me scream out loud and cry for a long time after. I remember thinking what it would be like to get spanked like that up to your early teens almost every week. It did make me feel thankful that things could be alot worse.

Doing something really bad, getting in trouble at school, misbehaving at church, doing something bad and then lying about it, or repeating the same misbehavior too often, usually meant getting it on your bare bottom. Maybe about 20-25% of our spankings were bare bottom ones. My mom often threatened us with spankings, but if she really wanted to make sure we understood she'd threaten us with a bare bottom spanking.


One of my girlfriends had a younger sister who was a brat and she was always getting into some kind of trouble at home. She was about 9 when we were about 12 or 13. I remember more than once my friend telling me her sister had been spanked. One time I was at her house and her sister was told to do something repeatedly and did not do it. Finally her mother said your getting spanked and told us to come into the kitchen with her where she pulled a chair away from their table sat down on it and took my friend's sister to her side.  With her promising to be good and saying she didn't want to get spanked, pulled her pants down and took her over her lap and gave her 12 smacks with the paddle. When she was done she stood my friend's sister up, pulled her pants up and made her go stand in the corner.
My girlfriend told me her sister got spanked a lot. My girlfriend also told me that she too got the paddle but nowhere near as often as her sister.


I started getting paddled I believe around age 7 or so. 

Until I turned 13, I would be given 3 swats with the paddle, but when I turned 13, my mom decided that her daughter needed a more substantial spanking, so I would usually get 5. Of course when I got paddled at school, I would always get double at home, so that meant paddlings could range anywhere from 4 to 10 swats, depending on how many I got at school. Most of the time I only got 2 or 3 swats at school, but there were a couple of times I got 5, which meant 10 swats with mom's paddle when I got home. 

Before mom started using her paddle she would usually take me over her knee and spank with her hand, probably about 10 or 20 spanks over my clothes. When mom started using her paddle, she would take me in her room, get the paddle from her closet, and tell me to bend over. I usually bent over and put my hands on my knees. Then mom would tell me exactly why I was going to get my paddling and how many swats I was going to get. Then she would spank me.

Honestly looking back on it, I think I got to the point where spankings didn't even faze me. Sure my mom spanked hard and it really did leave my bottom sore, and most times I cried from not only the pain, but from having done something or having enough of a smart mouth attitude that I had deserved a spanking. In a way though it seemed like getting spanked was nothing more than getting my punishment for some misdeed over with. 

As for whether my mom was spanked growing up or not, I have heard plenty of stories about my grandmother's red belt that led me to believe she and my uncles all got spanked once in a while.


Once when I was at the age when parents used the term "your getting a little too big for your britches" I was expected to dry the dishes while my Mom washed them but I protested to this with just a touch of sass. Mom's response "you have been slacking on your chores, you left your room a mess and I have heard too much attitude from your mouth as of late, what you NEED is a spanking with my paddle" I was stunned and straightaway apologized and said I would gladly dry the dishes. But my fate was sealed and she believed without any doubt I needed a spanking. So she got her big paddle and ordered me to place my hands on the counter. I hesitated and she said " now or you'll lower those blue jeans" I obeyed. She welded that paddle well, using both hands and after 3 smacks I was with tears in my eyes and she asked me if I was learning a lesson. Yes I replied and another smack landed. I got maybe 8 or 9 and was crying good. When she stopped she said "I think you will be fine for awhile but you sure needed that " 
I felt really put in my place to stay. I did not "need" a spanking for some time after that.


A spanking should be hard enough to cause "genuine tears of pain". I remember reading those words in a parenting book my mom got from church. When my parents spanked us, which my mom did most of, I know that this was their desired effect. If your spanking wasn't producing the desired reaction their spanks would get harder until it did. I knew there was no point in holding back and sometimes I tried to exaggerate how much it hurt me. But I think they had a good idea of how much pain they had to inflict to make us cry for real and feel very sorry about what we did. Usually I didn't have to exaggerate and once my spanking started my cries and tears of pain were 100% involuntary.

This was just for a regular spanking. If my mom wanted to increase the severity of our spankings she'd she'd spank just as hard or harder on your bare bottom. These sort of spankings were saved for things like repeated disobedience, doing something wrong plus lying about it, misbehavior at church, or anything really really bad or dangerous. Maybe 20-25% of our spankings were done bare. This was meant to be a big step up in pain and it usually was. 

No two spankings were ever the same, but my mom generally had two levels of spankings she used. How hard was down to how serious the crime was and her mood.


The only teacher who spanked me at school was ... MY DAD!! He was headmaster at my primary school and me and 3 other girls were sent to him for the slipper. We each got 4 whacks and we all cried. I'm sure he whacked me harder than the other girls but that's probably just my imagination. It was the only time he ever spanked me, at home it was always mum who gave me my spankings.


It was my Mum we had really to look out for and who set the tone of discipline in our home. I never resented this (not for long, any way) as she was always utterly fair (or tried to be). We could always get away with more with Dad so I used to look on him somewhat as an ally when Mum was on the warpath. This all fell apart one day when he had us for a weekend when Mum was away. I wanted to stay out late and we had an argument and I was so rude that he lost it and I ended up over his knee for a right bottom warming. There were hugs and kisses after but Mum was rightly triumphant when she came home. I heard her say to Dad: "So you STILL think she's too old to spank?"


In primary school I think most of my teachers smacked me as I was quite naughty. The one who spanked me most was Mrs Hyde as she was the one naughty girls were sent to. She'd usually send you to her small office and tell you to get her slipper out and stand and wait for her in the corner. After what seemed like ages, she would come in, give you a lecture and then make you bend over her knee for her slipper on your bottom. Then she made you stand in the corner for a couple of minutes with your hands on your head, after which you'd get a hug and told to be a good girl in future and then sent back to the classroom rubbing a sore bottom. Sometimes if she was teaching she'd just stand you in the corner of the classroom and then you'd go over her knee in front of the class for a few smacks with her hand. It had the advantage of not hurting as much but the disadvantage of numerous eyes on the event! Of course, when we had her as a regular teacher, it wasn't that uncommon to see a child over her knee in front of the class, me included!


 One girl at my primary school seemed to get a couple of spankings every week and would always tell us about it. I slept over at her house once and witnessed one spanking, it was mild, maybe four slaps over her bathers. I would have got the same but I lied to her mum and said my parents didn't believe in spanking ... stupidly I related this to my mum and promptly got a much longer spanking for lying.

Full co-operation was an expectation and I was always totally compliant when I was going to get spanked. There didn't seem any point in doing otherwise so I'd take my knickers off and crawl across my mum's knee - or, in later years, bend over my bed - without protestation. When my spanking actually started and it hurt, I would involuntarily wriggle my bottom and kick my legs but I think my main objective was to get the whole painful business over as quickly as possible. It was usually about a dozen sharp smacks, more than enough to make me cry loudly.

When I was older, 11 or 12, and I was threatened with being grounded (or 'house arrest' as we called it) I would ask to be spanked instead and my request would be granted more often than not. These were more serious spankings, her hairbrush on my bare bottom and I never knew exactly how many smacks I got as I couldn't keep count, being too busy squealing and howling.

I don't think I was spanked any harder on these occasions but I once overheard my dad tell my mum to "Make sure she feels it!" - which was quite unnecessary, as mum had a powerful forehand with her hairbrush and always left my bottom pretty much scarlet all over and excruciatingly sore.



I used to look up "spanking" and its synonyms all the time as a little girl in dictionaries and thesauruses. I thought I was possibly the only one who did so.

I saw one parenting book on my Mom's nightstand and would sneak in to look at it. It had a drawing and description of a method much worse than what my parents did - which was hand over clothes. Her book advocated over the knee with your parent's right leg over your legs to pin them down in such a way that you would be completely immobilized. Very scary looking. It recommended the hairbrush. (I think bare, but not 100% sure).

After seeing that, I worried that my parents were going to change to that method. So I definitely worried about that and did my best to behave. My Mom didn't have a hairbrush with a flat back, but my Dad did have a clothes brush with a long handle that I would get a nervous feeling when I saw it, even though I was never so much as threatened with it. I can't help but wonder if Mom left her parenting book where it was easy to find so that I would behave better. I wasn't banned from entering their room. I was an advanced reader who often borrowed her Reader's Digest Condensed books as young as age 9.



At my private girls school in the UK during the early 1980's any teacher could smack any girl in front of the class if that girl was misbehaving. The smackings did not have to be recorded or witnessed by any other teacher. As for the maximum number of smacks that could be administered at any one time I do not believe there were any limits set.

However at my particular school teachers (females only of course) were only allowed to smack girls with an open hand. No implements of any kind were permitted. The most smacks I ever received at any one time was 6 across each leg. Some girls were also smacked across their bottom (skirt raised).

There is no doubt that my senior gym mistress would win the gold medal when it came to sorting out naughty girls.  She did not need much encouragement to leave her hand prints on the back of your bare upper thighs. My senior gym mistress was very strict and anybody playing up would almost certainly receive her standard 6 of the best across each leg. Stangely though, she was very popular with most of us girls because she had a very outgoing personality and cracked a lot of jokes during our lessons.




I was pretty uncooperative during my spankings, but my parents demanded a degree of cooperation anyway. By the time I was seven or so, I was being told to lower my own underwear whenever I was to be spanked, even though I still had to be more or less dragged into position afterwards.
During the spanking I would kick and struggle at least to begin with, although my father in particular was usually quite quick to make kicking impossible by pinning my ankles down with his leg.
I always tried to cover my bottom with my hand. If I did not "move that hand!" when required to, they would spank my upper thighs instead. If I still did not move it after a few more spanks there, I would be told "One warning Bri!" - that was the threat of a second spanking later. Like most kids I had to test that one out to make sure they meant it - they did, and like most kids, once I discovered that they meant it, I didn't test it again, so after that, when I heard that warning, I always moved my hand.
My parents never really required that I lie still and docile when I was spanked, they more or less expected that we would struggle, which was I think why they always spanked us otk, as it was the most immobilising position.

The time I got a second spanking later the same day for not heeding the "one warning Bri" to move my hand, I could hardly believe it was going to happen. It was hours later, close to bed time, so my bottom wasn't still hurting from the first one, but I was a wreck when I was told to go upstairs to my room.
I think my mother felt that she could not go back on the 'promise', maybe she felt that I wouldn't respect her if she did, I don't know. It wasn't a hard or long one, I know she went easier on me, she did tell me years later that on the one or two occasions when she spanked me twice in one day she always felt miserable about 'having to' do it.
I have to say that I didn't find that very comforting! I think she found being a mother to a lively tomboy who seemed to her very defiant, very difficult.
With regard to "the second spanking always works!" - well on that occasion, I suppose it did - it was the first and only time that I got a spanking for not paying attention to the warning about what would happen if I didn't move my hand - after that I always did, because I knew the threat was not an idle one.



I never was required to bare my own bottom. But, one of my girl friends used to pull her underpants back up each time her mom would pull them down. She got extras for this but, according to her, she couldn't help it. I thought that was strange but she was very uncooperative. She once got it with a belt and when the time presented itself, she took the belt she was spanked with and cut it into short segments, each one too short for spanking. I was impressed with her nerve. I can sort of imagine doing that with a switch since they were free but doing it with a purchased item of clothing -- amazing. But, most kids were less intimidated by spanking than I was.

I think answering back is why I so love so-called difficult or spoiled children. They have a "mouth." Admittedly polite children are easier but I thrive on the brats.

I feel deep solidarity with them and what I admire in anyone is often labelled "rebellion" but in my mind it is just legitimate application of the "Question Authority" recommendation. So much of human progress, especially in business, and even in golf, comes from innovation and the rejection of the "conventional" wisdom. Maybe we are all writing in this forum in English rather than in German because of a couple of innovations in the design of the Hurricane and the Spitfire aircraft! Their guns were sighted at 450 yards rather than 750 and their engines used the higher octane fuel. Two radical engineering decisions that gave them critical advantages in dogfights with the Messerschmidts and Heinkels. So, before parents paddle their brats, reflect on where innovation comes from. It doesn't come from obeisance to tradition and convention. Even obedience has its limits -- remember our complaints about the officers on trial at Nuremburg. We charged them with not rebelling.



I was pretty cooperative when I got spanked, especially when I was older because I usually asked mom to spank me instead of being grounded. When I was younger though I would try to run away when mom got the paddle, because I knew how much it hurt. It never worked and I still ended up getting spanked, but I did try to get away.



My last spanking came near the end of the school year. I came home one day from school with a detention slip. Detention at school meant spanking at home.

So, I went for Mom, thinking she would take it easy on me.
While I felt I was too old, I did not feel like getting into an argument with her over the issue. So, I went to her and said, "Mom, I have a problem. I got detention in school and we both know we that means. I guess I deserve it." Back then, I did not feel that way. However, I was hoping that it would put her in a gentle mood.

We went up stairs and she sat down on the bed. I did my best to cooperate. I dropped my skirt and got over her knee.

I thought it was going to be an easy spanking. It was not - she gave me a hard bare bottom spanking.



I never got spanked at Sunday school nor heard anyone getting it there. But the Sunday school class where I went was, like the whole church, very spanking promoting.
My folks got involved with one of these charismatic fundamental parishes. There was even a paddle for parental use in a church back room and I remember some parents taking their bad behaving kids down there in the middle of the service for "a correction". I never saw the paddle because that time dad was travelling on weekdays and at home practically only on Sundays. I ususally got spanked on Sundays - after church dad drove me home where my correction was administered - with a belt. Then we joined the others at church picnic and then I had my Sunday class to go.

So I became a regular church goer. There was a Sunday school class on afternoons that my parens wanted me to participate. I hated the class and wanted to be somewhere else instead of sitting for hours in a boring class room wearing a white dress discussing about subjects like "how to be a better person and how should parents correct by not sparing the rod" - I guess the teacher there was spanking-curious: I never shared my spankings with outsiders, It was too embarrassing. But I do remember some kids sharing almost some details of their spankings with a whole class, when the teacher kept on asking. Pretty inappropriate from this teacher!

I only went there about a dozen of times or less, fortunately my parents did not force me to.



I was at my Aunt's house a few weeks ago, and she told me a story of her and my mom when they were kids. And yes, my Grandmother spanked bare and with a paddle. Apparantly they were out past dinner time. They were warned like three times before already. And my Aunt said that they were playing and lost track of time. When they realized what time it was, they were nervous to go home. My Aunt said that my Grandmother was waiting for them with the paddle in her hand with her arms crossed. Then, she took each one at a time, raised their dress, bared them and paddled them good. My Aunt is 85 years old and was laughing while telling the story. She brought it up, I didn't even ask. We were talking about some dishes of her grandmothers that she had and had broken one. That's how the story came up. No, she didn't get a spanking for breaking the dish. It was an accident.



At least three times growing up I accidentally was present right after a friend had been spanked. In one of the three cases, I was actually in the room but in the other two cases, I came upon the recipient right after the spanking.

It was such a feeling of helplessness. There was nothing you could do. And, equally hard, there seemed to be nothing you could say. In all three cases, I could so identify with the person since all three were rubbing their bottoms through their clothes. We knew that it was considered impolite to touch your bottom but somehow having just been spanked trumped that rule of ettiquette!



If anything, the last two spankings I got were scarier now that I was older, because what I was being spanked for was direct, conscious disobedience, and both I and my mother knew it. When I was 13, and got my ears pierced after weeks of arguing and stressing about it, I knew, as I walked out of the shop with my earlobes smarting that once I got home they were not going to be the only things that were smarting! As I sat on the bus on the way home with my friend, I knew exactly what was going to happen, and was already regretting having done it - not the actual piercing, I thought the earrings looked great, so at least I was happy about that; but I had the whole bus ride to get myself into a state of panic about what was going to happen to me for what I had done. By the time I got home I was feeling almost sick. And of course, because every spanking was pure hell, it was exactly as bad as I had thought it would be.
With the spanking that turned out to be the last one I ever got, a few months later, just after my fourteenth birthday, that I have posted about elsewhere on this forum (when I went to the arcades at the beach where I was forbidden to go just in order to flirt a bit and hang out with the kind of boys my parents didn't want me to know) I was feeling pretty happy because I thought I had got away with it, until the mother of the friend I had gone with, who drove me home mentioned that my mother had called. At that point I knew I was doomed and again, there was that freefall into aboslute terror. I knew how strongly my mother felt about it, and that the spanking I was certainly about to get would illustrate the strength of her feelings! It did, of course, and I think that was the hardest and longest one I ever got. I suppose there are those that would argue that since it was the last one I ever got, that it worked...!



The summer I turned 12 a family with 6 kids moved next door to us. They had a girl my age with two older and three boys younger. My mom commented to the neighbor how well her kids behaved and asked her how she managed to keep so many in line. Of course, the answer was consistent rules with follow through with spankings if the rules were violated. Later that same day, she spanked Vivian, the girl who was my age while I was over there.

My "last" spanking (swats with my mom's hand on my pantied seat) had been declared by my mom to have happened when I was 8, so I was pretty sure that I would never "get it" again. I was a bit on the mouthy side and lied to my mom frequently.

I believe on some level I wanted to see if my mom still cared.

Within a week of my mom's conversation with our neighbor, I started getting spanked again. She talked about it openly and never threatened without carrying out my spanking. My bottom was always bared and she used first her hand then followed up with a leather strap. So, families that spank alot can be contagious!



When my sister got spanked and I didn't, I would usually feel sorry for her while it was happening and right after. I knew from my own experience that the pain afterwards didn't really last all that long, but in my house the person being spanked was always left on their own afterwards for a while to calm down before the parent who had given the spanking went back in to talk and hug better. During that time, no one else was allowed to visit - when they emerged, the episode was deemed to be closed, but the 'victim' always remained emotionally fragile for a couple of hours at least (if it was my sister, longer if it was me!). So when my sister was allowed back downstairs and it was all over, I would try to be nice to her without mentioning the spanking. Most of the time, when it was the other way round, she would try too, but because she was an irritating little pest, her 'sympathising' took the form, as Alan, Laura and Clem mention, of asking me whether it hurt! Once I remember yelling at her, "Of course it did, you moron!" - which caused my mother to snap, "Watch your mouth young lady or I'll think you need another one!" But she told my sister off as well, so I felt slightly vindicated!



My dad had no problem to put a disobedient son over his knee, but for his little girls, that was a lot more difficult. We were his little darlings, and experienced in winding him around our little fingers...
But my mother was still higher in the rankings, and she was seriously strict with her girls. In theory, she was my father's humble servant (sorry girls, that's the way it was), in practice she ran the family and was the undisputed boss. If my mother 'proposed' a spanking, my dad considered it his holy duty to give that spanking.
He was rarely directly concerned in the misdeeds, and therefore not angry. But he was a warm, passionate man, deeply in love with my mother. It was wonderful to be a cherished girl of two loving parents. But when getting spanked, this turned seriously sour. By scolding us and trying to explain why we needed that spanking, he got upset and convinced of the need 'to teach us a good, hard lesson', as every childish misdeed became an insult to our mother. For his girls he only used his hand, but it was a heavy hand and he was a strong man. Till the day of today, I still ask myself if he knew how much his spankings hurt. I could stand a lot, but sooner or later it hurt too much, I couldn't take it anymore.

 
 

I got most of my spankings from my mother, but i got a fair few from Dad as well. I think that most of the time he did it because he felt it was expected of him, but sometimes just as a response to direct disobedience or irresponsibility - there are two occasions I remember him being particularly angry - one when I climbed onto the roof of the boathouse with my friend - it was dangerous and I think the other thing that angered him was that I endangered my friend as well. We never thought about the fact that the flimsy wood beneath us could have given way at any moment, as he said, both before and after spanking my bottom with the slipper.
Another time that really made him mad was when I decided to try my new roller skates inside the house because it was raining outside. He told me not to, in the kitchen, and I was on my way to take them off when I decided to give it a go in the living room, which had a beautifully smooth polished wooden floor to skate on, but was also full of my mother's most precious ornaments. If I had broken any of them she would have been beside herself, and what Dad said when he caught me red-handed was "You're lucky your mother didn't see you doing that!" - I have to say I didn't feel very lucky as he dragged me upstairs to my bedroom. That time I got the spanking with the hairbrush while still wearing the roller skates - a bit of a one off, that one!



I always thought my dad was a bit of the reluctant to spank in our house - maybe it was having girls. However, he did his duty when required albeit reluctantly. One of the most memorable spankings I got from him was when he was really angry with me when I was about 10. I had been told not to go to a certain place as it was dangerous, but I went anyway with a bunch of young children as part of a gang. Unfortunately I had a bright red dress on and was easily identified. When I got home, mum and dad questioned me about where I'd been and told me that a young girl in the red dress had been seen in this forbidden place that afternoon. I had never seen dad so angry and I bolted up to my room and hid under the bed. He followed closely and grabbed me and pulled me out by the foot. I then got the full treatment over his knee - my bottom was red as my dress by the time he finished spanking me and I had to sit on a cushion to eat my tea. I think it sticks in the mind because there was real fear for my safety as well as anger that disobeyed him. In spite of a very sore bottom I somehow knew I was loved!

Another most memorable spanking I got from my dad was one weekend mum was away and dad had to look after us. I thought that would be an easy touch and proposed I stayed out much later than usual. However, he was firmer than I thought and we had a big argument in which I ended up being rude to him. To my horror he grabbed me and took me to the chair which was used for spanking. I plead with him to spank me but he said, "You're getting a spanking right now so let's get it over with!" So I went over his knee and got a right good bottom warming. Funny, but we had hugs and kisses afterwards and I spent some time sitting on his lap, sore bottom and all! When mum came home she was quite smug that dad had spanked me. I think she felt vindicated. Dad spanked me a few more times after that. I must say I deserved them all!



When I was growing up, we lived down the street from my aunt and uncle and their 4 kids. All but one of these cousins (all girls) were older than I was. They all got spanked. (I was not spanked from 8-12 but started getting spanked again at 13 after a new neighbor and my mom had a talk about the necessity of spanking sassy teens.)

At age 8 I was teasing my oldest cousin (14) about getting a spanking that morning when I was over at her house. She grew tired of the teasing and said I must need a spanking myself if I was so interested in hers. I kept teasing hoping she would spank me. Finally, she took me behind their garage, held me over her lap, pulled down my shorts and panties and spanked me "like she got it." She kept talking about how naughty I was and that naughty girls get their bare bottoms spanked. Her sis (12) heard us and came over to see what the noise was about. She spanked me a few spanks. By then I was crying and said I would be good since I got a spanking.

There were times I knew I deserved a spanking and would ask to play the game so I could get one. Once I had broken a special family heirloom plate and had lied to my mom about it. I felt very guilty about it and knew I should be punished. I confessed about the plate and the lie to my mom. I really needed her to spank me, but she sent me to my room and took away privileges for two days.

Two days later, when I was allowed to go out, I acted like a brat "asking" for a spanking from my cousin and she paddled my behind hard with lots of witnesses. That helped with the guilt over the plate.

We played these games for a few years. Other friends joined in. Only girls were allowed to spank girls but there was a time boys watched me get spanked bare with my aunt's paddle. No one ever caught us since we were always careful to pick private spots and were left on our own to play outside for large amounts of time.

The spanking games with my friends were best when I was between 8-11. All 5 of us were about the same age, but we played games where the losers of games were spanked and "house" where the "naughty kids" were spanked.

I was always one of the kids and used to lose games on purpose so I would be on the receiving end of a bottom warming. The spankings were over the knee with panties down and were actually hard enough to make me cry in some cases.




I am having a good grin over a mental image of a parent testing a spanking implement on themselves - I also think that people who decide to spank their kids with whatever it was they were spanked with twenty years or so down the line after they were last spanked themselves, might give it a try, too - it might given them a different perspective about what, and how much is necessary!
My sister has spanked her kids, but while she and I were spanked with the slipper and the hairbrush, she has insisted that she will only ever use her hand, as she believes that is enough. Our mother disagrees! But then, she would...!

I don't think my mother would have classified a spanking AS a real spanking unless it had been bare bottom - and yes, of course, that was how she had been spanked herself as a kid.
I don't think I ever really thought there was any other way myself, until the day my grandmother spanked me (just once in my whole life) and was kind enough to leave my knickers in place!

The day it happened, I was only about six, and my grandmother had never even hinted before that day that she might ever spank me. I must have been driving her nuts that day!
What was mainly different was the absence of the fear factor, and that was because of two things, firstly the fact that the spanking was unannounced and more or less took me by surprise, and secondly because my knickers stayed up, which I thought was saving my bottom a great deal. When one of my parents spanked me at home, I was always sent upstairs to my bedroom. There was hardly ever a wait of more than a few minutes, if that, and sometimes virtually none at all, if I was being 'escorted' (read: dragged, kicking and screaming) up there, but the time it took to get up to my room was enough to send me into hysterical panic. With my grandmother no such order came, she merely left the living room for a few moments and returned with hairbrush in hand and a meaningful look on her face! I had no idea I was about to be spanked until she grabbed me, sat down and hauled me over her lap, and therefore no time to get hysterical, and that made a big difference. At that point, I started creating merry hell as usual, of course, but though she raised my skirt she didn't lower or remove my knickers, and I had a nano-second for the thought "phew, at least I've still got my knickers" to flash across my mind before the first spank landed. She gave me a few spanks with her hand and a few more with the hairbrush and then it was all over. She spanked hard (my mother had to have learned from somewhere!) at least by my six year old standards, and I definitely had a hot bottom afterwards, but it all seemed to be over in a trice, probably because there was no shrieking and begging beforehand while my parents had to more or less wrestle me into the position they wanted me in - I never came quietly.
So the difference IS mental, but in those spanking situations, the psychology was a huge, huge factor.




Even when my mother's hairbrush was doing nothing but brush my hair, I still hated it every time I looked at it.

The other day I was in the local pharmacy in the 'hair' section choosing some pony-tail bands for my daughter and saw a rack full of hairbrushes that looked very similar to my mother's "Mark 2" version and couldn't help shuddering!

Most of the spankings I got from my dad were with either his hand or the slipper (or both,if he was really mad), but there were a few occasions I can remember when he used my mother's hairbrush instead. I don't know why though. One time I remember him spanking me with the hairbrush was for roller skating inside the house - my skates were new, but it was pouring with rain outside and I couldn't resist it. He found me skating in the kitchen, told me off and told me to go and take the skates off as well. I was on my way to do that when I passed the main downstairs room, which was a sort of large sitting-dining room combined. All the furniture had been pushed back against the wall because the wooden floor had just been polished, and it was so inviting. I was a pretty good skater, it wasn't my plan to go tearing round the room crashing into things and breaking my mother's ornaments and I was completely confident that I wouldn't crash. We never found out whether I would have or not, because I'd only done a couple of rounds when he caught me at it. Still in the skates, I was half dragged up the stairs and he kind of propelled me into my room with an instruction to "stay there!" while he went into his to fetch the implement - he returned in seconds with my mother's horrible hairbrush.
I don't know why he sometimes used the hairbrush instead of the slipper, maybe he was just mad and in a hurry and it was the first thing to hand - I suppose I will never know.

I got the spanking still in my skates too, which made the usual thrashing around and kicking thing more fraught than usual, as well, so it's a very clear memory for me - I've sometimes wondered if it is for him too!



I only got it with the hand or hairbrush and I did not like the hairbrush. Mom knew how to use it and my bottom got deep heat from it many times and my panties were always pulled down, my sister and brother got it bare too. Every time I saw the hairbrush I would cringe and start sniffling and pleading not to be spanked, to no avail though. I got spanked.

 

Mum did most of the spanking in our family, but sometimes she'd insist dad take on the responsibility for dealing with my sister and I, so that she wouldn't always be the big spanking ogre in our family. Dad usually did it the same way as mum - across his knee, bare backside, with his hand or the back of a brush. On the rare occasions when his belt was brought into play, for our most serious offences (and only as teenagers) that was always dad.

Dad certainly spanked harder than mum, but it also always felt as though we'd hurt his feelings, having to punish his little princesses. With mum, spanking was just another routine chore, like doing the ironing.




My best friend Jenny and I often used to share sleepovers together. We would discuss our latest spankings before we went to sleep. I remember one time we had both gotten a detention that day and had been duly spanked by our respective mothers. We compared to see who's bottom was the reddest.

We also played a spanking game when our school reports came out where she who came first in a subject could give the other one three smacks on her bottom and an extra smack for each 10 marks she'd beat the other by. Detentions were also mentioned on the report and they got us three smacks each although we'd already have been spanked by our mothers. We thought it was great fun but I can't think why.

If my cousins stayed the night we often talked about being spanked, epecially the girls. We sometimes ended up playing a spanking game too. My friend Jenny and I found sleepovers at her house a good time for playing our end-of-term spanking game so we tried to time them accordingly. I don't know whether our parents knew what was going on but it was all very innocent.

Getting spanked over the knee was quite a natural thing in our house. All my friends who I knew were spanked tended to be spanked that way too. (Even at school, it wasn't unusual to be put over your teacher's knee and have your bottom smacked, often in front of the class). I don't think it occurred to us that you could be spanked any other way except over your parents' knee.  With three lively girls in our house, rarely a week went by without someone being inverted over and her bottom well warmed.

I think CP in school is a good thing when it is used properly as children know there is a consequence of misbehaviour. One problem today is there are no consequences, only a lot of talk and form filling by teachers. Years ago it was solved by a whack with the slipper on the bottom. I was very high spirited little girl and could be very naughty but the knowledge my bottom would suffer when I'm misbehaved did keep my behaviour within certain bounds.




To my utter surprise I was made a prefect. I was shocked the Head had faith in me as I'd been quite naughty in school and even had the cane once. The head I think saw some leadership qualities in me and appointed me on that basis. She said to me with a twinkle: "You can best sort the naughty girls out!" As prefects we were allowed to give lines and report girls to the teachers. Unofficially we also used to give the younger girls the occasional smack on the behind.



I was 12 and my sister was 10....my mother dropped my father off at work and before leaving, gave my sister and I instructions that she would be gone 2hrs.  When she got back she expected the dishes done (sister's job) and our rec room cleaned and vacuumed (my job) When she got home almost 2hrs later neither of us had done our required jobs. She sent us each to our  bedroom for 20 minutes and then called us out to our dining room where she was waiting. My sister went over her knee first and I followed. I got 12 swats with her wooden spoon on my bare backside.



I was enlisted into spanking games at age 7 with my older sister and two of her friends. There were various cards and dice games which ended with the loser getting spanked as well as 'families' with naughty kids. It started with being smacked on your underwear but they talked me into 'going bare' and after that we always spanked bare bottoms. It was never really hard but if you had a losing run in one of the games you could get a pretty sore bottom. One of my sister's friends was the best spanker and I always liked going over her knee to be spanked, she gave my bottom a really nice sting.



Personally I got spanked at leat 10 times for the same issue. Saturday morning was "clean your room day." Mom would come into my room and if she didn't like it she'd say "I'll be back in ten minutes. No need to tell you what you'll get if it isn't clean!" When she returned, she looked around - if she didn't like it she'd take her hairbrush sit on my bedroom chair, take me over and would give me a proper taste of her brush - then corner time, then punished for a few days. This scenario was repeated at least one a month until I got it right.

A good spanking on the bare with a hairbrush was the worst spanking experience there was. Mom hung a hairbrush behind my door in my room, where I got most of my spankings. I started crying the minute she took it from its place behind my door, not to mention my endless crying when she took it to my bottom.

I can't recall ever being spanked without crying. I recall it didn't take more than 6 or 7 smacks with her hairbrush to make me cry - after that it was all a blur. There's noting to do, you're across her knees and you are going to stay there until she's satisfied you've learned your lesson. As far as the red bottom, I remember, on several accasions, mom saying she was going to give my bottom a good reddening. After my spanking she would let me off her knees and all I could do was jump up and down,rub my bottom - still crying.

I always tried to keep my spankings a secret.  But once, after being disobedient and rude, my mom spanked me in the guest room at the rear of our house. A girl from my class happened to be playing in HER yard which was right next to mine. Mom gave me a good taste of her hairbrush, over her knee and with my panties down, after which I was punished & put to bed.

The next day in class I was having trouble sitting and was squirming in my seat. The teacher asked what was wrong and I made some feeble excuse. The girl  who had been in the backyard stood up and told the teacher the reason I was having trouble sitting was that I been spanked with a hairbrush over my mom's knee the day before. I was crying, not from pain but embarrassment, and my teacher took me out of the room and let me stay in an empty classroom.




My memory of that day is very, very clear, probably because, though it was not the hardest spanking I ever got (though I think it might have been Janna's worst memory), it was the only time I was spanked without having been guilty as charged. I think in order to explain fully I have to give the background on this one.
So, briefly as possible, here is what happened - for Christmas a few weeks earlier, Janna had received a set of crayons but they weren't just ordinary ones, these were fabulous, glow-in-the-dark fluorescent crayons - she adored them immediately and I had no sooner clapped eyes on them than I wanted some of my own. But they were Janna's, not mine, and hers to lend or withold. She quickly got so tired of my asking to borrow them that eventually she said 'no'. A couple of times I executed a raid on her bedroom behind her back and used the things anyway. She was furious both times, and eventually hid them in a hiding place I still don't know where - it was a very good hiding place, wherever it was.
We had both gone through a phase at about the same time, though earlier than this story, of using our coloured pencils, crayons or markers to decorate the walls with - obviously this was absolutely forbidden, we had both been spanked for it in the past, and I don't know what prompted Janna to do it again - she used her fabulous crayons to crayon the wall behind the sofa in the living room. It was a place that would never normally have been seen, except that we were having a problem with mice at the time, Mum had put some traps down, and one afternoon moved the sofa to check the traps or vacuum the mouse-evidence or something - and Janna was with her. I think Janna was just thinking fast on her feet, when Mum saw the wall, and what she thought was, "if there's going to be a spanking, it would be better if it's not mine!" - so being a consummate actress (actually, all this time later, I do have a sort of reluctant admiration for her presence of mind!), instead of instantly saying, "Briony did it!" she just howled, "But she used my crayons!" - I heard her from the next room.
Next, Mum was yelling for me, and I came, and looked goggle eyed at the wall, and when Mum asked me point blank if I was responsible, of course I denied it. The trouble was as all three of us knew, I would have denied it whether I had done it or not, I would say the sky was green and grass was blue to get out of a spanking so denial didn't help my case and was taken as proof of guilt rather than the opposite. So I was hauled off to my room where Mum gave me a spanking with the hairbrush. I screamed and shrieked throughout as usual, but after it was over, it was almost worse, even once the burning sting had died down the injustice hurt worse. Mum arrived back in the room a bit later to begin the comforting reconciliation part of the ordeal as was usual, but she didn't find me even remotely calmer than I had been when she had left me, if anything I was in a worse state. She sat down on the bed, and let me crawl into her lap as normal - though confused and hurt I was even more desperate for cuddles than usual - and she said,
"Oh come on Bri, it's really not the end of the world!"
But to me, it was. I carried on bawling incomprehensibly trying to show my innocence, into her shoulder, and was utterly inconsolable. Mum grew still, and after a minute or so of this, she muttered,
"Oh God. You didn't do it, did you?"
I was so relieved she had got the point that I managed to stop sobbing for long enough to howl, "But I don't even know where she hid them!"
I remember her hugging me very tightly for a few seconds, saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" then she kind of pushed me away and said, "I'm coming back but I have to go and deal with your sister right now!" and she left the room yelling for Janna.
By the end of that afternoon, all three of us were as wrung out as a set of dishcloths, and later that night was one of the few times I remember seeing my mother cry. She felt horribly, terribly guilty. We were supposed to be in bed, but I wasn't sleepy, and I went and sat on the stairs and saw my mother crying to my dad, and my dad trying to make her feel better, saying things like, "It's OK, Bri will survive!" - and of course, I did.
Epilogue - it took Janna a couple of years to tell me freely that she was sorry about that day, but she did in the end.
One unexpected effect of having been spanked when innocent, was that I felt I had won a sort of get-out-of-jail free card as far as being spanked was concerned, needless to say, if indeed I had, it wasn't all that long before I found it had expired!
The following morning my father took my sister and I aside and said, "What happened yesterday is finished and we are never going to talk about it again. Briony you're probably still angry with Janna and I'm not going to tell you to kiss and make up but I want to see you two being friends again by the end of the day. Understand?"
Of course, we said "Yes Daddy," but friendship between us took more than a day to be restored! Although not too many days. But until the day Janna actually took a deep breath and told me she was sorry, there was a sense of something 'pending' in our relationship.




When I was 11 our family had a hard time. My mom was a single parent and had to work two jobs for a while to meet ends. I did not have enough supervision and I guess it contributed to my behavior getting worse at this time and also my school work sinking down. It was decided by mom and my uncle and aunt (uncle's wife) that I will go live with my uncle for a while. Uncle's house was about 150 miles from my mom's place. This "awhile" ended up lasting 2.5 years and I spent most time during this period at my uncle's house.

My uncle had two sons. One my cousin was older than I, another younger. Both my uncle and my aunt spanked. My mom did not.

When my uncle brought me to his house, uncle and aunt sat with me to explain the rules and expectations and also talked about discipline and said it will be the same for me as for the boys in their house and explained that my punishments included spankings. My uncle also said that my mom agreed that rules and discipline for me should be the same as for my cousins, and then he also talked quite sternly about my recent poor behavior and warned that things like that would earn me a spanking from then on. He also said that my mom also had had enough of my misbehavior and thought too that firmer discipline including spankings were in order for me.

It was not too long before I got in trouble again and my pants came down for my uncle's belt across my bare bum.

My first belt spanking was quite a shock and was a real eye-opener and eyes-crier-out. Belt hurt almost unbelievably.

But it was far from being my last. Over the next 2.5 years my behind grew intimately familiar with my uncle's belt, especially during my first half-year to a year staying with my uncle and aunt.

Uncle was the chief disciplinarian for me and my cousins, but my aunt occasionally spanked too and I got the hairbrush from her several times.

I also think, but not too sure, that in an odd way spankings added to my feeling of belonging to my uncle's family since I was treated equally with my cousins and as a member of their family in all aspects, including the unpleasant per se aspect of punishments. Thus perhaps in a narrow sense it might be possible to say spankings made me feel loved, but not spankings per se, but the fact I was treated equally with my uncle's and aunt's sons and as one of their own.

Incidentally when I returned back to my mom spankings traveled with me. When at the end of my stay my mom came to pick me up, my uncle handed her a paddle he got some place and warned me that if I ever resisted my mom's paddling he would come over and I would regret I did. I never did resist my mom's paddlings she instituted after I came back from uncle's and aunt's house, even though my mom's paddlings hurt every single bit as bad as my uncle's belt spankings and worse than my aunt's hairbrush. Would not say mom's paddle made me feel more loved or secure, but perhaps in the end it kept me out of some trouble at the cost of sore bum and shed tears.




When Jenny and I had a sleepover we'd often talk over the spankings we'd had as both our mothers were very enthusiastic at dishing out sore bottoms to naughty girls. One sleepover we had a friend called Alice come along as well. During our talk before we went to sleep Alice told us she had never been spanked and asked us what it was like. I told her it was better demonstrated so she lay across my knee while Jenny and I alternately smacked her bottom until it was bright red. She took it very well even though her eyes were somewhat tearful and I noticed she went to bed face downwards! Well she did wonder what it was like.......



My family was at my Brother's house yesterday and we were all at his pool. His adopted daughter Whitney was being a real brat and splashing the other kids who were in the pool. My Brother finally had enough and ordered Whitney out of the pool and he took her into a small changing room that is right next to the pool.

We heard some muffled discussion and then the clear sounds of a hand spanking a bare and wet bottom. He gave her about 25-30 good smacks and then exited the changing room. Whitney came out a few minutes later with puffy eyes from crying and red marks below her swim suit. Needless to say, she was good the rest of the day.




The second spanking you got at home, after being bad at school, was always a bit more painful. Not that it ever changed mom's idea about the spanking she was going to administer. If I had talked back to the teacher, my mouth would get washed out w\soap at least three times and then I'd be sent to my room. She'd come up a few minutes later, got her hairbrush from the closet and would scold me and tell me I was getting exactly what I needed " a good, proper spanking, across her knees with the hairbrush" and that's EXACTLY what I got.



I went to school in Canada. The school policies on the use of the strap varied from province to province, school board to school board and among schools. The first time I remember a girl getting the strap was in grade four. My luck ran out in grade 8. My god, that strap hurt. None of us left that office with anything near dry eyes. The news was instantly all over the school, which girl had been strapped, how many times, by whom, etc. Then, we had to take a note home for our mom to sign.

My mom was of the type that thought that she should never interfere with the school and its policies. If the school strapped me it was my fault for deserving it. There was no sympathy. On the bright side of things my mom was not one of those that believed that a strapping at school merited another strapping at home. She had gone to the same school since coming to Canada at the age of 12 and had also been strapped. She knew once was more than enough. I had a girlfriend that was not so lucky.




My most embarrassing spanking, shared with my younger sister, happened on a shopping trip when I was ten. We usually loved shopping for clothes with mum, but on this particular day,she seemed to be taking forever, constantly returning to the same shops to look at the same dresses. Eventually, my sister and I started to get bored and, inevitably, began to act up. Mum's resultant warnings were surprisingly low key, but we still should have heeded them. Of course, we didn't.

In one large department store, my sister and I decided to pass the time by posing one of the mannequins, as though it was a giant doll. The mannequin, of course, decided to fall apart, crashing into the two neighbouring mannequins and bring the whole lot down with a crash that could be heard right cross that floor of the shop.

For a moment, you could have heard a pin drop. Then mum's voice boomed out, no doubt audible to everyone in the building - "naughty girls get their bare bottoms smacked!" None of the usual "wait 'til I get you home" - we were marched past dozens of customers and shop assistants to the changing rooms, taken inside one at a time, turned over her knee and our bare bottoms tanned. Probably the whole shop heard the slaps, squeals and sobs.

On emerging with her two miscreant daughters, mum was given nothing but approving looks and smiles from staff and customers, while our faces were as red as our backsides. To make matters worse, of course, one of the girls from my class was there with her mother and heard the whole thing. Fortunately, she kept quiet at school, later admitting that her own mum would have done exactly the same thing.




At primary school we used to play a game called witches and fairies. The boys were the witches and used to chase us girls who were the fairies. If we got caught we got taken back to the witchs' den where one of the boys put us over his knee and spanked us. We thought this was great fun until one day our game was discovered by a member of staff who reported us. We all got told off and told that if we played this game again we'd be for it. We took the warning and the game was abandoned for the time being.



One friend's mom from church spanked with a plastic vacuum cleaner nozzle. It was bare bottom and really hurt. I knew someone else whose parents bent the end of some kind of wire implement into a heart so that it would leave heart shaped marks on her and her siblings' bottoms.



Early on my pants and panties were pulled down to my ankles and I was lectured on why I was going to be spanked and then pulled over her knees for the hairbrush. When it was over I was let up and immediately started to rub my just spanked bottom. When I was 8 or so mom started making me pull my panties down, as I did this I was sniffling and crying, when they were down mom lectured me and then told me to go over her knees, she moved me if she felt it necessary, placed an arm over my back - and then the hairbrush. When my spankings were over I was let up and after a few moments there were hugs and I was left to compose and go back to what I wanted to do.

There was one issue that I learned somewhere early on and that was that if I was told to pull down my panties, I did so without much hesitation. I got spanked over my panties a few times and on a few of those occasions I had nylon panties on. Any girl who has been spanked with nylon panties on knows that for some odd reason the sting is mutiplied. So I learned that if I was going to get it and had nylon panties on, I pulled them down without being told to!



I got several good bare bottom spankings from my paternal Grandma Joan. Grandma Joan raised eight children, my father was the second to the oldest, and she was known to be a no-nonsense mother.

My mother was a stay at home mom, but Grandma Joan lived close by and she watched us kids when mom had things to do or errands to run. It was in the winter and I was four or five years old at the time. We had fresh snowfall and the three of us kids were anxious to go out and play in it. My mother told Grandma Joan that I was to stay in because I was getting sick. I didn't feel sick, and instantly started to protest.

Once mom was off, Grandma Joan was helping Brad and Wendy dress to go outside. I spent that entire time crying and begging to go out. I did not want to be left out. My grandma wasn't really known for her patience. I got sent to my room, which made me even more angry. I started yelling on the top of my lungs and I decided that I was coming out of my room any way, permission or not.

I ventured back into the living room. By then my brother and sister were already outside. Grandma Joan looked at me and said, "I didn't give you permission to come out yet. You go right back into your room young lady!" I dug in my heels and refused to listen. I knew I was making my grandma angry. She ordered me back to my room again, and I stubbornly held my ground. Before I knew it my grandma picked me up and started to carrying me off to my room. I started thrashing and kicking. My grandma smacked my bottom a few times, that only made me more angry.

When we arrived at my room, I decided to let Grandma Joan know exactly how I felt. I said, "I hate you! You're so stupid! Big, dumb meanie!" Big mistake on my part. My grandma put me over knee, took my pants down, and wrote a story on my bottom with a hairbrush. I remember her saying things like, "You had better learn to watch your mouth, Missy! You will not talk disrespectfully to me. . ." She pretty much scolded me through my entire spanking, which seemed to last forever. I bawled and it hurt to sit down for a while. I gladly lounged around in my room after my spanking.

Later on, I was pretty subdued and listened to my grandma. I learned that she didn't tolerate disrespect or youthful rebellion.




I grew up with strict parents, so meal time was no exception. We had to eat what was on our plates before asking to be excused from the table. My mother was a little more understanding when it came to picky eaters. My mom let me get away with being picky more often than my father did.

There were several times that my dad gave me spankings at the dinner table for refusing to eat what was put before me. My mother stood up for me a couple of times. She would say things like, "You're going to ruin eating and food for her, Steve. She'll grow out of it."

Well I did grow out of it. I started eating everything and really enjoyed food until my stomach problems started. In my junior year of high school, I started feeling sick after eating. I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease when I was a young adult. For those who are unsure of what that is, it is an autoimmune disease that causes chronic inflammation in the intestines. It can be very painful at times. I have had to cut certain foods out of my diet, and eating in general can be unpleasant.

I am a mother of three and have never punished my children for refusing to eat. My father has changed his views toward children and eating. My middle son was giving us a hard time at the dinner table during a family get together. My mom told my son that I sometimes got spanked for refusing to eat. My dad was present and I could tell he felt very bad. He quietly said, "I didn't know eating would turn out to be such a nightmare." It turns out that some of the foods that my father tried to make me eat are now restricted from my diet.

My father saw me go through some pretty terrible pain, weight loss, and emergency room visits. I'm guessing that if he could take those spankings back, he would.




I know I've mentioned this before at another time. I've given birth three times. My labors were fast and furious. I had no time for the epidural. I remember labor hurting. I can't recall any specific sensations with it. It's almost like afterward, it was erased from my memory. LOL! I might not have had three kids if I fully remembered the intensity.

I am 37, and I can still vividly remember the feel of a couple of my worst spankings. The stinging, sharp pain, still comes to my mind. My husband finds it strange that I can remember the unpleasantness and pain of a couple of spankings, whereas, my labor pains were largely forgotten.




My father was a police officer who came from a long line of fishermen. You can imagine the tough, macho, crude surroundings that he was exposed to. One of my aunts made a comment to our grandma, that Steve (my dad) ran his home like a boot camp. We had chores and were expected to tow the line both at home and at school. My aunt wasn't that far off. LOL!

My brother, sister, and I are all very close in age. My brother and sister both look and act like our mother. My mother is a social blond with a sharp tongue and quick temper. Both Bradley and Wendy were adventuresome, social, rebellious, mouthy, and high strung. They put mom and dad through the wringer. LOL! I was the only one like my father, brunette, intense, quiet, and careful. I was also very strong-willed and stubborn.

My dad had no problem spanking either my brother or sister. Since we are on the topic of fathers and daughters, I'll just mention my sister. My father seemed to have no problems spanking Wendy when she deserved it. My theory is she because she was a smart-mouth. I've witnessed her getting some pretty good (or bad, depending on how you look at it) spankings. She would try to argue or justify her case which would make dad even more angry. Dad not only spanked her more than he did me, but also showed more tough love toward her. She got many good tongue lashings as well. She got her last spanking at the age of 17. She stayed out all night after partying and drinking. I'm sure you can imagine the rest. I heard that spanking from my room.

People often said that I was, "The apple of my father's eye." Dad never admitted to playing favorites, but I know in my heart that I was his favorite. I think mainly because I looked and acted more like him than the other two kids. I was also quieter, more of a homebody, and generally more obedient and respectful. I never gave my dad a hard time after a spanking and when he scolded me. After a spanking, I would go to, or stay in my room and cry. During a scolding, I would basically shut my mouth and listen. I noticed early on that there were a few times when my dad would hesitate before, or feel bad after giving me a spanking.

My sister and I are only a year apart in age, but my dad spanked her up until she was 17 years old. My spankings stopped when I was a week away from turning 13. For me the threat of a spanking was pretty much enough to keep me on the straight and narrow, but my sister was always pushing the limits.

I guess my point is, fathers with more than one daughter may view and apply spanking differently. My dad was more gentle over all with us girls, but it didn't stop there. I think my father took our personalities into consideration as well. I don't mean to offend any women or feminists, but my father was (I should say is) a little chauvanistic in his views. He wanted his little girls to be ladies. My personality and nature is closer to what he sees as lady like behavior. He therefore, was more gentle and even hesitant when it came to punishing me. My sister was (is) the classic cheerleader, popular, drama queen, feminist female. Dad didn't seem to have problems when it came to punishing her.




I still feel embarrassed even thinking about it. It happened on one of my dad's days off. I remember him being home all day. I was nine years-old and acting very bratty. I also dared to mouth off. I was threatened and warned several times to straighten up. My dad even sent me to my room until I could behave.

I didn't listen or take his warnings seriously. When dad finally had enough I saw him taking off his belt. Before I could run away, I was over his knee with my pants around my knees (my panties were on though). I was bawling after just a couple of licks from his belt.

Even through my crying I heard talking and people entering the living room. My brother and several members from his hockey team were standing in the entry way staring at me getting a spanking. I know they didn't stand there very long, but I know it shocked them. What a sight for a bunch of 12 and 13 boys. My dad was shocked because he said, "You're home early." My dad quickly finished up. After pulling up my pants, I ran to my room. I had to pass Brad's room to get to mine. Oh the embarrassment! The guys giggled when they saw me. I did hear Brad say, "Come on don't tease her."

I will never forget that spanking. I know my father, brother, and his friends won't either. When I started high school, my brother and his friends were seniors. I remember one them used to try to flirt with me. He even said, "Can I see another spanking?" How embarrassing!!!


 

When I was little my father expected us to act like wax figures at church. We were to be seen and definitely not heard.

When I was six, I decided to pester my brother during a service. My brother actually thought that what I did was funny and soon we were both laughing. My dad was angry. He let us know that when we got home we were going to get a spanking.

I got sick of getting spankings after church. My brother and sister were the sneaky ones. I was usually the only one caught misbehaving or being silly. True to his word, I found myself over my daddy's knee. I decided that I wasn't going to give my dad the satisfaction of punishing me. I made up my mind that I wasn't going to cry. My dad spanked me over my dress and it hurt plenty, but I managed to hold in the tears. My father is also very stubborn; a trait that I inherited from him. He must have thought that because I wasn't crying, his spanking was ineffective and wasn't driving the point home to me. My dad lifted up my dress and spanked me over my underwear. I was crying in no time. I must have ruined it for my brother, because he was spanked the same way.




I was out in my garden this weekend and heard the unmistakable sound of an 8 year old little girl being spanked coming from my neighbor's house. A few minutes later my neighbor came out and looked a little upset, then saw me and looked embarrassed. I smiled at her and said, "Anna really is a good girl, good thing for her she has a mother willing to do what it takes to keep her that way." My neighbor smiled back at me.
She is really a good kid, and her mom is nice, she just looked embarrassed that someone knew she spanked her daughter, which I think is a shame.




I was visiting a good friend of mine and his 8 year old daughter came up to me with a big smile on her face and says, "Uncle Jake, I can scream really loud, do you want to hear me?" Before I could answer her mom says, "If you want, I could make you really scream for Uncle Jake." To which she clutched her bottom, smiled and said, "I changed my mind Uncle Jake."



I always thought my dad was a bit of the reluctant to spank in our house - maybe it was having girls. However, he did his duty when required albeit reluctantly. One of the most memorable spankings I got from him was when he was really angry with me when I was about 10. I had been told not to go to a certain place as it was dangerous, but I went anyway with a bunch of young children as part of a gang. Unfortunately I had a bright red dress on and was easily identified. When I got home, mum and dad questioned me about where I'd been and told me that a young girl in the red dress had been seen in this forbidden place that afternoon. I had never seen dad so angry and I bolted up to my room and hid under the bed. He followed closely and grabbed me and pulled me out by the foot. I then got the full treatment over his knee - my bottom was red as my dress by the time he finished spanking me and I had to sit on a cushion to eat my tea. I think it sticks in the mind because there was real fear for my safety as well as anger that disobeyed him. In spite of a very sore bottom I somehow knew I was loved!



I think I was usually good for a time after a spanking although they sometimes came in bursts - you'd go for quite a time without one and then get a couple within a couple of weeks or something like that. I think mum knew when we were building up to one as she'd say something like, "I think the slipper will have to come out in a bit, young lady!" Of course, with three rather naughty girls in the house it was quite a common occurrence for one of us to be over the parental knee. But our behaviour did improve as a result, I'd say. Mum had a way afterwards of providing a time of chat and intimacy where we would talk things over and I'd so often feel close to her during those times I quite missed being spanked when I went to University. There were times when a session with mum's slipper followed by one of her talks would have been helpful. But by that time I knew I needed to grow up.



I would have to say that for me, spankings were very effective. I was the youngest child in my family, and a natural introvert at that. I had a very popular and outgoing older brother and sister. They were the kinds of kids that run the school, and that others admire. I was the shy, honor student.

I think my older brother and sister saw spanking as just a part of their childhood. They hated it, but it didn't seem to stop them from taking risks, or being sneaky. They turned out to be good upstanding citizens, and both also have families of their own. They love our parents and even though they were spanked more often than I was, they don't seem to begrudge my parents for it.

I was always a very private and modest child. I did my share of naughty things, though they were usually of a different nature than those committed by my older siblings. I was spanked by both of my parents. When I was little, I was spanked more by my mother because she was a stay at home mom, and my father worked some strange shifts. My mom always seemed to spank bare bottom. I really hated those. Even though I received my spankings in private, or on occasion in front of my older brother and sister, I remember feeling humiliated. I learned from a young age, which things would result in a spanking, and I tried my best to avoid them the best that I could. I also learned of ways to get out of them, though it only worked with my father.

My brother and sister were 16 and 17 when they received their last spanking. I was almost 13 when I received my last. The embarrassment factor kept me in line. I couldn't imagine being a teenager and having to go over mom or dad's knee, possibly with my panties down. I must have been successful because I quit receiving spankings when I was relatively young (by my family's standards). However, from a philosophical stand point, my personality and nature may have been the reason why I didn't receive as many spankings, and wasn't spanked as long as my older siblings.


 

My sister and I were terrible ones for receiving spankings around bedtime. We shared a room for a while and when you have two girls in one room, you end up with plenty of bickering, fighting, and giggling. We regularly alternated between the three.

If we were bickering and mom and dad heard us, we were told to, "Stop it!" If we were physically fighting, that usually meant that either mom or dad, whoever, caught us would give us a spanking. My parents didn't tolerate physical fights. If we were giggling, we were told to, "Stop it and go to sleep!"

Even though my sister and I were as different as, "Day and Night," we still found plenty of things to laugh and giggle about. We would occasionally get down right giddy. My mother who had more of a temper was surprisingly more tolerant of our giggle fests. She had sisters and understood the situation. She mainly gave my sister and I warnings. If our father was working the night shift, we often got away with being silly. My mom's theory was, "They'll get tired of it. I'd rather hear laughter than crying. If they are tired the next morning, I'll remind them about the giggle fest that kept them up."

My father was definitely not as understanding. He wanted instant obedience, and didn't find humor in children testing and pushing limits. If we got silly when daddy was around, he would give us a stern warning. Usually we listened. If we chose to ignore the warning, daddy didn't hesitate to spank us. He would oftentimes say things like, "Who's laughing now? You two were just itching for a spanking weren't you?"




My older sister Marisa got a quick swat on the bottom one day (don't remember why) and as she was walking away she turned around and stuck her tongue and said "that didn't hurt". Mom was on her in flash and pulled her over the knee and gave her a pretty hard spanking with a wooden spoon. Marisa was bawling pretty good by the time it was over. Mom just said,"I'll bet that one hurt." Marisa just nodded and went to her room to finish crying.



The game that we used to play as children was sort of a spanking game. My brother invented it when he was in the second grade. He must have been around age 7, my sister was 5, and I was 4. He called it "Bottom Eater," or "Butt Blaster."

The game is definitely not as bad as it sounds. The game had to be played in the room that my sister and I shared because our beds were directly across from each other. Whoever was it was the, "Bottom Eater," or the "Butt Blaster," For a change we alternated between the two types of monster. The one who was it, guarded the pit which was the area between the two beds. The other two players had to run or hop between the two beds being careful to avoid the, "Bottom Eater," or "Butt Blaster." If the person who was, "it," was the, "Bottom Eater," he/she tried to pinch the bottom of one of the other two players. When that happened, that person automatically became the, "Bottom Eater," and a new game began. If we were playing, "Butt Blaster," the it person had to smack the bottom of one of the two players, and then that person would become the, "Butt Blaster."

As children we loved both games. We usually played the game around bedtime when we were all in our jammies. It was especially risky when we decided to play it after we were ready for bed and tucked in for the night. My brother would sneak in the room and we'd play our game. We tried being quiet, but that went by the wayside as we got into the game; what with all the jumping or hopping and then the giggling. I was the youngest, so I was usually the first one designated to be, "it."

My mother caught us playing the game a couple of times and laughed when she found out what we were doing. We were all surprised that mom didn't spank us, scold us, or get mad. She just said between her own giggles, "You rascals need to go to bed and stay in bed, or else."

We weren't so lucky when our daddy caught us. We were playing our game when we should have been in bed. I remember hearing a warning, but I can't remember if it was from our mom or dad. We decided to ignore the warning and continue with our game. I happened to be the, "Bottom Eater." All my attention was focused toward my brother and sister. I didn't hear my dad until he entered the room. Before I had time to scramble away to try to hide, I found myself over my dad's knee. My dad pulled my pajama bottoms down, but left my panties up. He gave me some very hard slaps on my bottom. I was bawling in no time.

After spanking me, my dad started yelling at us. I remember him saying, "I don't like your game. When your mother and I put you to bed, you are to stay there!" My brother and sister were both hiding under the sheets. My father ordered them out so he could give them their spankings. They didn't budge. This made my dad even more angry. He told them that if they didn't come out and accept their punishment he would give them a bare bottom spanking. Both my brother and sister reluctantly came out and obediently went over daddy's knee. We were all in tears and as I recall it took a while for us to play our games again.




My Mother was really strict about lateness. You had to be in from playing at set times and in for dinner at 6.30. For this it meant sat at the table with your hands washed at 6.30 on the dot. I got smacked quite a few times for disobeying this rule. Dinnertime smackings were bad because it would happen in front of whoever was at the table - usually my Dad and brother but sometimes relatives. I'm so glad smackings were not on the bare. God knows why I ever dared repeat it.

We also had a set bedtime and she expected you to have brushed teeth and be in bed by then but seeing as she was there monitoring it this tended to get obeyed. What made her more cross was morning punctuality. She was very stern in the morning, I don't recall a smile! She drove us to a friend's at 7.45 and we went to school with them as she went off to work then. Dad was long gone to work by then. She expected you at the front door for an inspection of your hair, bag, uniform etc at 7.40 sharp. Both of us were regularly smacked for being late for this. One day she was mad with me for being later than 7.40 several times recently and she told me I would be spanked with her paddle-hairbrush after school. That meant I waited all day for it. Aaaa! She spanked my bare bottom hard that night and I learnt and was on time for her almost always after that. I don't even turn up late to visit her now!




When my mother's ancient wooden hairbrush came apart it wasn't while she was using it to spank with, she was actually brushing my hair out for school one morning. I was about seven years old and I remember her exclamation of surprise as the brush part clattered to the floor while she was still holding the handle. It was old, I think it had been one of her mother's, and it had had many years of use on both sides!

By the time I got back from school that day, it had been replaced with a very solid, heavy looking plastic one, and when I looked at it, I remember thinking that it had been bought with more than just brushing hair in mind. I wondered with a bit of a shiver what it would feel like and of course it wasn't all that long before I found out.

Her new hairbrush never broke, unfortunately, and stayed until long after my sister and I had both stopped being spanked - it would have given its last spanking to my sister when she was about thirteen, I think. But even once I knew my bottom was out of danger (no one ever said it was, by the way!), I never liked the sight of it - it had a Presence in my mother's room, and that was a feeling I could never shake off!




When I was in the first grade I went through a phase of crying and whining to get out of going to school. My mother didn't pay me much attention when I started in. She would say things like, "Too bad, you're going anyway." Mom was so busy getting three kids ready for school, making dad's lunch, etc. that she often tuned my crying and whining out.

My father absolutely hated whining. He often said things like, "Stop the crying before I give you something to cry about." I was his baby, so I often got away with the crying and whining. My poor dad would drive me the whining/crying daughter to school, and then drag me to my class in tears on several occasions.

One morning I woke up and my dad was trying to hurry me up. I sat in my nightshirt refusing to budge. I whined a little, but I didn't start crying. Before I knew it I felt my dad's belt smack my bare thigh several times. Dad said, "You've been asking for it." My nightshirt was short and the way I was sitting, my legs were exposed. The belt on the bare thigh really hurts. I started crying instantly. I think my dad realized what he'd done because he threw his belt out the door and looked at me with his icy, blue eyes before saying, "Now see what you've done! Get ready now, Missy!"

My dad hit me pretty hard and I had a couple of red marks on my thigh. I felt a lot of hurt and anger toward my father. I cried quietly all the way to school and refused to kiss him goodbye. I also never cried or whined about going to school in front of my father again. I was actually afraid of my father for a while in the morning.

I know my father loved me and always had my best interest in mind. I truly believe that at that moment he was too mean to his six year-old daughter. His usual smacks with the hand to my bottom would have been enough to sink the point in. In my opinion, getting spanked on the thigh, hurts much worse than on the bottom.

I am a teacher and when I see or hear kids crying about not wanting to go to school, I think of that incident with my dad and the belt. I believe that spanking was completely unfair.




I feared every single spanking I ever received. My parents believed that to keep my spankings rare they needed them to be memorable. For them, making my spankings memorable involved a whole series of practices that were only unique to my punishments:
saying yes maam or no sir during their lecture, not being allowed to ask for explanations, not being allowed to offer my opinion at any point, having to strip from my waist down and then bend over so that my entire bottom was exposed to them, and having my movements (kicking and hand blocking) limited.

However, while all of these actions made for an uncomfortable situation, they all paled in comparison to the fear I felt each time I felt his belt tap my bare behind before dad gave me my first lash. It always took my breath away and then the pain of the lash was always incredible. I always thought I'd get used to it but each time the pain seemed as bad as ever.



I never had to wait too terribly long. For better or worse, my father never told me that I had done something so wrong outside of the house, that it would warrant me receiving a spanking when we got home. I sometimes suspected that I was going to be spanked after I did whatever it was I did; because my daddy would certainly make it clear to me that he "was not happy with me". That should have been my first clue that I was in for a spanking. But to directly tell me to expect a spanking when we got home was, for him, a difficult thing to do. He told me (now that I've grown) that he didn't want me to fret or worry between the time of my misbehavior and the time when my bottom was going to pay the price for my misbehavior. But, when we got home, he would make it very clear that we were going to have a "discussion" about whatever it was that I did. And then he would direct me to go to my room, remove my pants and panties, and stand in the corner and wait for him to come give me my spanking. But he never made me wait long. Two minutes, max.

When I think back on it, I believe he was truly concerned about my mentally obsessing about the spanking that I would be receiving. If I had known about my spanking-to-come ahead of time, I guarantee that I would have been a miserable wreck, almost to the point of making myself physically sick with worry, even though Daddy's spankings were not that severe by any stretch. By waiting until we got home, and by not making me wait too long between sending me up to my room and coming in to spank me, was one of his ways of taking care of me. He hated to see me worry myself into a snit.

After the lecture, he would spank me until I just started to cry, give me a few spanks past that point, and then stop. It didn't dawn on me until my adult years that, if I had just started crying earlier, the spanking would have stopped earlier. But I held on, trying to brave the spanking out. I wish I had known his method then!



My mom always strapped me in our kitchen and the strap was kept handy in a kitchen drawer. As soon as she let me go after my strapping I ran off to my bedroom to cry and recover. During that time the strap was always left out on the kitchen table until I returned, hugged my mom and made up. At that time I was then allowed to remove the strap from the table and return it to the drawer. Our house was tiny and the kitchen table was immediately visible when you entered our house. Anybody who came to our door during that interval would easily see the strap and know exactly what it was for. It was also left out if there was some reason I was to get if when I returned home. I hated walking through the door and seeing it there. I knew I would soon be in tears.

The strap had no other purpose whatsoever and could never be used as a belt, etc. It was too short and firm, plus it had no holes or buckle. How did I feel handling it after I had been strapped? It was awful. I wanted to get it back in that drawer as quickly as possible before my mom found another reason to use it on me. It always had a menacing look to it and evoked great associations in me. However, it was far worse when I was ordered to the drawer to get the strap for my mom. Then I was devastated, crying and knew what was to come.



I never felt loved by or after a spanking. I always knew Mom loved me. But hated being spanked it hurt and made life hard ( in my view then). I saw it as part of life as everyone was spanked. Mom many times reinforced her love for me after a spanking but the burn & throbbing only caused me to see frustration whether at my self or her not sure. I really disliked when after a spanking Mom may come to me and give a little hug and pat my throbbing bottom and say soomthing to the effect as lets move on. Sure she saw the whole process as needed & good for me and this was love. I saw it it as keep away you just caused this searing hot throb and I want nothing to do with you right now.



While growing up, my father gave me one public spanking. I was around 4 years-old at the time. My paternal grandfather was a fisherman and daddy took us kids down to the harbor. He had to run an errand for his father and we wound up on Grandpa McNeil's Crab Boat. Think of the crab boats on the popular show, "Deadliest Catch," and you'll get an idea as to what my grandpa's boat was like. I can't remember what I was doing, but I do remember playing where I shouldn't have been. I was scolded several times, and then started whining. I was a hard-headed little girl, and I started to throw a fit. It was too much for my dad and before I knew it, he was dragging me off the boat, as I was kicking and screaming. When we got off the dock my daddy put me over his knee and spanked me in front of the other fishermen who were preparing for the season, all the young deckhands, wives, girlfriends, and others visiting the harbor. One of my dad's fishing buddies still affectionately refers to me as, "The little handful." I'm sure he was part of my audience that day, as he did work on my grandpa's boat.

The spanking was in public, so my dad didn't remove any of my clothing, but that spanking made an impact on me, and I have found spankings, both public and private to be embarrassing after that.

I tried my best to behave myself when I got older because I didn't want to lower my pants for the belt. I managed to escape spankings after age 12, but my older brother and sister weren't so lucky.



I was usually taken or sent to my parents bedroom. Mom would come in, pull out the chair from her dresser and hairbrush in hand, sit down. She had me move to her side where she pulled my pants and panties down and then as I sniffled, promised to be good and pleaded not to get a spanking, she told me about my wrong doing. That done she guided me over her lap, made sure I was in the right position and then I was spanked. When I was crying enough my spanking was over, she helped me up and I did my just-spanked dance, rubbing my bottom. After a few moments of this she pulled my panties and pants up, there were hugs and she sent me to my room to compose myself. My spanking had been given, the issue was over, except for my warm bottom.

Some spankings were longer than others and I was probably sorrier for getting caught and also probably feeling somewhat stupid for knowing full well what the consequences would be and still doing what I did. There were times when being naughty and getting away with it brought a rush. Then when you did get caught your spanking that followed may have been longer because mom felt you had gotten away with a couple of things and now it was time to get a longer spanking.

I tried to get out of my spankings. I cried and pleaded not to be spanked. Promised good behavior and all. It made no difference, my panties were pulled down, I received a talking to and then my spanking. I cried and pleaded and tried everything I could think of to not get it. In the majority of cases it did not work and I found myself unceremoniously draped over the parental knee looking at my panties around my ankles through tear stained eyes.



My parents' method was to teach us that certain actions have consequences, and you can't really argue with the logic of that. Case in point: my older sister and I were taking a bubble bath and got into a bubble throwing war with one another, causing the bathroom to be soaked. When my mother came in and saw the mess, she made us both clean it up and told us in no uncertain terms that if that ever happened again, we would be spanked.

Later that week, we decided (on our own) to take another bubble bath together. The temptation to throw bubbles was too much for us and, before we knew it, we got carried away. My mother heard the ruckus we were making, came in the bathroom, and saw suds all over the floor. That time, we had to rinse off immediately, clean the bathroom, and wait in our respective rooms for her to come escort us to our parents' bedroom and give us our respective spankings. Yes, I suppose I could have argued (and maybe I did) that we were simply having fun; and others may argue that kids will be kids and that as long as we took responsibility for cleaning up the bathroom, that should be it. However, we had been told that if we did it again (the action), we would be spanked (the consequence). So it's hard to argue with the logic that goes like: what did you do wrong - I soaked the bathroom; why was it wrong - because I disobeyed you; why is it wrong to disobey - because it's disrespectful; what happens when you disobey me or are disrespectful of your father or me - we get spanked. So although my bottom was very well warmed on that particular night, I can't honestly say that I hadn't been warned.



The worst implement that I was ever spanked with was my own plastic hairbrush. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I "sassed" my mother in front of other adults at an evening school function -- and my mother was not happy with my behavior at all. She told me on the way home that she was going to give me a spanking once we got to our house, and I remember crying in the backseat of the car, much to the consternation (or delight?) of my older brother and sister.

Like unto our normal procedure, I was sent to my room, told to get ready for my spanking (which meant taking off my pants and panties), and to stand in the corner and wait for her to come. But my mom and dad never made me wait for my spankings for too terribly long.

Shortly afterwards, my mother came into my room, pulled a chair into its center (I was still standing in the corner), and sat down in it. She then directed me to come to her and to pick up my own plastic hairbrush which sat on my dresser. My hairbrush was pink, as I recall, but I had no doubt that my bottom was going to be much richer in color by the time my mother was done with me.

Since my pants and panties were already dispensed with, my mother proceeed to lecture me at length, and went through the routine of asking what I did wrong, why it was wrong, and what my punishment was going to be. All this time, the pink hairbrush was still in my hand. After I confessed my crime, and acknowledged that a spanking was in my immediate future, she guided me over her lap. I was still holding the hairbrush. My mommy then warmed the cheeks of my bottom with her hand, one after the other, as well as the middle of my bottom, until the point where I had just begun to cry. (I thought, stupidly, that I could hold out for a long time. If I had just started crying sooner, my punishment would have been shorter.) But very shortly after I had started crying, she stuck her hand out to me, and I knew she wanted the hairbrush. I put it into her hand, and she proceeded to spank my bottom, as well as my "sit spot", with it.

I remember that particular spanking very well. The sting was enormous and I howled. My mother did not spank me with my hairbrush for very long -- I am sure that I received more hand spanks than hairbrush spanks -- but it certainly made its impression on me in several ways. I remember thinking afterwards that I never, ever, wanted to be spanked by it again, and I even considered throwing the implement away the next morning when I went to brush my hair. But I didn't, fearful, perhaps, of what my mother would think or say. She only spanked with me a hairbrush one time after that (for telling her an outright lie), but I remain convinced to this day...being spanked with a hairbrush was the worst implement that my bare bottom ever met.



I remember playing a prank on my babysitter during a sleep over with a few of my friends from school. We pretended to have cut our hands with a sharp knife (Using red food coloring as blood) and on impulse I decided to squirt one of my friends on her bottom.

When Jessa came in she saw us and about had a panic attack, (Of course at that point we were laughing so hard she figured it out) so with an evil grin on her face she took turns chasing each of us, put us over her knee (I was about 10 at the time) and pulled down our panties and said "My, that bottom must heal very fast!" and would swat us with her hand just enough to make us giggle and buck a bit. afterwards she told us that if we ever pulled that stunt again she would spank us hard and long with her hair brush.... (Of course 3 weeks later we did the same thing and she just did what she did the first time without the threat).

   

We were at the lake one day and my friends and I were sitting on beach chairs sunning ourselves, just enjoying the sun and the fact that we had the day off from work. I kept watching this little girl being a brat, throwing sand, splashing younger children and the like. Well her mother apparently had had enough. She pulled the girl around the back of the bathrooms and pulled her suit down and put her across her lap and gave her a good dose of hand spankings. The girl was screaming and crying and her mother just kept spanking her. After that they came out the girl kept close to her mom's side. I was kinda glad she got a spanking b/c she was being a bratty little girl!



I have seen or overheard a lot of spankings in my lifetime many clothed, almost as many were bare bottom. A couple of months ago I was grocery shopping and when going out to my car with my cart I heard the unmistakible sound of a child crying and a hand slapping a bare bottom. Sure enough parked just a couple of cars away from me, a flustered young mother was sitting on the passenger's side of the front seat of her car, with her daughter (I assume) over her knee with pants and panties down around her knees, swatting her bare bottom. I couldn't help but watch but didn't say anything. She gave her a few more sharp swats and then pulled the little girl's pants back up. She saw me and was obviously embarassed. She apologized and was trying to stammer an explanation. I just smiled shook my head and said, "It's ok, I got the same thing growing up, and so did my kids".



I don't think I had any feelings about the hairbrush before I first got spanked with it - back then, it was just a hairbrush, used to brush my hair in the mornings.
I remember vividly the first time I was spanked with it, when I was either seven or eight years old. I had been sent to my room and I was already crying because i knew a spanking was imminent. Up to that point I had been spanked only with a hand, apart from one time my dad had finished off his hand spanking by giving me a few smacks with his slipper. When my mother came into my bedroom holding it, I knew right away that she intended to spank me with it - what else was it doing there otherwise? - but even amid all my tears and panic, I do remember a small thought that ran something like, "that's just a hairbrush! Can't hurt that much!" - but like I said, that was before it started spanking me.
It quickly, along with my dad's slipper, became my very worst enemy!



I was spanked with the hairbrush growing up - last time when I was fourteen. My mother was a spanker and really believed that spanking was a "must" for keeping up discipline in her house, and she used her hairbrush a lot on her two daughters. God we were spanked sometimes! Bottom cheeks deep red and with those oval bluish marks from that awful brush. And the STING! If you have not been spanked with a hard heavy wooden hairbrush/clothesbrush you don´t know what a spanking can really feel like. All spankings were given over our mother´s knee, with your bottom well bared. And we were not let up until lots of tears, crying and bawling and promises to be good.



I was an only child & Mom handled most of my spankings, until she passed away when I was 9. Dad was the last resort or extra bad behavior spanker. Mom believed deeply in spanking, Dad did it almost to honor her way & memory. He hated spanking me & I never gave him any trouble or argue if he deemed I needed a spanking. He never went past my skirt or pants, (leaving my panties up) & only used his hand. He only made it smart & sting most of the time. I would just do what he said & take my punishment. He cried more then I did half the time.



I remember making the mistake one time of daring my mom to spank me. I was about in a foul mood for some reason or another, and my mom was getting fed up with me. Anyway she had told me that I was coming very close to getting a spanking. Anyway I made the mistake right then of saying "well why don't you?" in a really sarcastic tone. That did it. Mom sat down on a chair at the kitchen table, grabbed me and unbuttoned my jeans and yanked my jeans and panties to my knees. Then she told me to bend over her knee and gave me a good hard spanking. When she finished my bottom was very sore and I had tears streaming down my face. Mom rubbed my back and hugged me like she always did after she gave me a spanking. I cried on her shoulder for probably 5 minutes or so, getting my back rubbed the whole time.

 

My wife told me a story about when she was about 14 years old or so and she and her younger sister, who was about 12, both got in trouble. Her father went to get a switch. She thought that she was way too old for a switching so she hatched a plan. She talked her sister into agreeing that they would show him that it did not hurt by not crying during the switching. He got back and said, "OK, who's first?" My wife told her sister to go first and reminded her of their deal. But, as you might expect, as soon as the first stroke was laid on, her little sister stared wailing! Well, my wife said this just made her all the more determined....so when it was her turn....she dropped her pants and underpants as she was told and laid across the bed. Her dad started switching her but she refused to make a sound.....in fact...she said that she even started laughing!! In response, her dad started really laying it on long and hard...but to her credit she gritted her teeth and held on and did not make another sound until it was over. She still talks about that and takes pride in it. She really hated those switchings and said that was the last time it happened.



In grade school you were sent to the office to be paddled, I got sent down in 3rd grade. I had to give a punishment slip to the secretary sitting outside the principal's office. I was so embarrassed because I knew that she knew why I was down there. She told me to sit down and she knocked and took my slip into the principals office. A few minutes went by and I remember her just sitting at her desk doing her work and having a cigarette. She just looked at me a couple of times and smiled and I thought, easy for you to smile... What made it worse was that she had to witness my paddling and I knew my parents had told the principal that if I ever had to be spanked it should be on my bare bottom! Probably one of the most embarrassing times of my life.



I remember one time when my sister was in the kitchen over our mother's lap and she was really getting it. At about the time I thought her spanking should be about over, the doorbell rang. My mother put my sister down and told her to stay there, that she'd be back. It was my grandmother at the door, and as soon as she walked in, she could see my sister in the kitchen, standing next to a chair in the middle of the floor with her pants off and she was crying. My grandmother said to my mother not to let her interrupt what she was doing. My mother walked into the kitchen and with my grandmother standing in the doorway watching, my mother put my sister back over her lap and gave her another full length spanking. When she was done, she put my sister down and she ran to her room. I really felt bad for her, she got two serious spankings for only one offense. I think my mother was just trying to show her mother that she could give spankings just like the ones she had been given.

 

I resisted, and it took various forms, from merely vocal to very physical. I would start crying, sobbing, begging and pleading the moment the "S" word was mentioned in connection with me, and I would cry all the way to my room, whether I was being taken there or just sent there to wait. I never just went without protest. When my mother or father arrived I would do the begging and crying thing even more. Their most difficult task was in getting me into the required over the knee position and then in keeping me there, because I wriggled, kicked if I could, and naturally shrieked and wailed throughout the whole thing. If I put a hand back - which I almost always did, there was the usual "One warning!" - the threat of another spanking later on - I found out that they really meant it, so I would almost always move it but that didn't stop me doing it in the first place. So yes, I resisted. A lot!

I don't know if they really expected me not to resist, but now I can see that they saw it as real defiance, and I think it annoyed them, and probably made them much more determined to carry the thing out properly. They were always going to over-power me, which we both knew, and they KNEW I knew, so it was only a battle of wills, not of strength - and they were going to win that too.

The time I got a second spanking later the same day for not heeding the "one warning Briony" to move my hand, I could hardly believe it was going to happen. It was hours later, close to bed time, so my bottom wasn't still hurting from the first one, but I was a wreck when I was told to go upstairs to my room. I think my mother felt that she could not go back on the 'promise', maybe she felt that I wouldn't respect her if she did, I don't know. It wasn't a hard or long one, I know she went easier on me, she did tell me years later that on the one or two occasions when she spanked me twice in one day she always felt miserable about 'having to' do it.

I have to say that I didn't find that very comforting! I think she found being a mother to a lively tomboy who seemed to her very defiant, very difficult.
With regard to "the second spanking always works!" - well on that occasion, I suppose it did - it was the first and only time that I got a spanking for not paying attention to the warning about what would happen if I didn't move my hand - after that I always did, because I knew the threat was not an idle one...


Even as a child, I was not a morning person. Getting me up and ready for school was a challenge for my parents. I am actually surprised that I wasn't spanked more in the mornings. My hunch is, they weren't completely awake themselves either. LOL!

My mother was always busy in the morning: getting three kids ready, lunches made, bed making, making sure that everyone had everything for the day, etc. When I was six years-old, I went through a stage in which I refused, whined, and cried when it came to school. I graduated as Valedictorian of my senior class, and SMC in college, so this is a big joke in my family now. My mother was so busy that she was able to tune me out completely. If she did hear me, her typical response was, "Too bad, you're going anyway." The resistance, whining, and crying really bugged my dad. He hated whining almost as much as willful disobedience. When I would start up with the crying and whining about not wanting to go to school, my father would usually say, "Do you want me to give you something cry about?" I usually stopped after that, as my dad never made idle threats.

My father tried his best to be patient with me. I know I didn't make it easy on him. My mother did in home child care off and on, so our dad was usually the one who dropped us off at school in the morning. Daddy usually wore the police uniform and my older brother and sister really got a kick out of riding in the squad car. I didn't like school so I didn't care either way. Instead of being reasonable and cooperative, there were times when my daddy had to walk me to my class in tears. The kids who didn't know me would look at me and stare at my tear-streaked face and were in awe of me being escorted into the building by a policeman. They would have a look of concern or curiosity. My classmates and some other kids knew he was my dad, and it wasn't a big deal. Daddy got pretty sick of fighting with me one morning and after I put up a good fuss that continued in the coat room of my classroom, my father grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. There within eye and earshot of my classmates my father said, "If you don't straighten out right now Missy, I am going to flip up your skirt and spank you right here in front of everybody." Even though I was only six, I was mortified! I stopped fussing and got ready quietly. I did refuse to kiss my dad goodbye.

There is an incident that ended all the morning battles. It's one that even today, I can vividly remember. I didn't want to get up as usual. I don't remember my mother being around that morning which was unusual. She may have been with one of my sick grandparents. Dad did his best to take over the morning routine. I ignored my dads order to get ready for school and sat lazily on the sofa. I may have whined a little bit. Before I knew it, my dad grabbed me and whipped me with his belt. I struggled, so he mainly got my bare thighs (I was still in my large night shirt). I couldn't do anything but cry. After thrashing me daddy said, "You've been asking for it young lady. [email protected]#$% Oh, just go get ready for school!" It hurt so bad! I didn't argue, and I did get ready for school. He didn't need to struggle or coax me out of the car, I ran out without saying, "Goodbye." I remember crying on my way into school. My legs and bottom still hurt. After that, I was afraid of my dad in the morning, and didn't give either of my parents grief about going to school after that.



Being a policeman, my father has always worked slightly odd shifts. Daddy did his best to keep lights low and to be quiet, as the rest of the family slept. From the time I was a little girl, I could remember smelling my father as got ready for work. He didn't have much of a sense of smell, and usually used too much after shave and cologne.

It was a few days after Christmas and I remember laying in my bed suffering with my throat. After noticing the familiar fragrance in the air, my father entered my room to check up on me. The after shave made me a little queasy, and I noticed that his hair was still wet from the shower. Daddy spoke in soft, gentle voice and said, "How are you feeling today Kitten? Is there anything I can get you?" While my daddy was asking me those questions, I noticed that he was fastening his belt. Instead of concentrating on what he was asking me, all I could think of was "spankings." When I misbehaved daddy, used his belt to spank me. My father was a good man who didn't punish me harshly or excessively, but I still learned to hate my father's belts. The sharp burning pain isn't easy to forget. I was 9 or 10 when I got a spanking with the belt that I hid from my father. So much for hiding an implement!

Part of me still finds it odd and I even feel kind of bad over the thoughts. My father was a good daddy, and he was deeply concerned over his sick baby. Instead of thinking of the love and concern, I noticed the belt and thought of spankings that I received from the belt. I would never admit to anyone in my family, especially my father. I know he would feel bad. When I see belts, even the ones that my husband uses, I think of spankings.



I will never forget watching my brother's bare butt get whipped with the spoon and seeing his legs kick out behind him as his upper body threw itself upward. Watching intense bright red circles appear on his bare cheeks instantly after the wooden met its mark was agonizing for me, especially when I knew I was next and he was going to be watching me do the same performance on our dad's knee. I literally cannot look at a wooden spoon without thinking about the horrid blisters it raised on my butt. The irony of all this is that I have chosen to use the spoon on my kids too. It's not the same one, but it is a hefty one just like my parents used. I know first hand the efficacy of the wooden spoon. When I wash my wooden spoons after cooking with them I often think of how my dad would send me to the kitchen with the spoon in my hand after he finished blistering me so I could "wash the spank off", as he would say. Of course washing the spoon didn't happen immediately. I was allowed to cry and dance for a good 20 minutes before my dad would tell me to pull up my panties and go wash the spoon.



I don't remember paying attention to how red my bottom was after my spankings. I am sure that it was very red because I still remember how intense the lingering heat was afterwards, to the point that it felt like my pants were literally on fire. However I saw how red my sister's bottom became after getting spanked by our mother on her bare bottom right in front of me, and it was bright red, almost purple, after a long fast hand spanking.

I only remember getting four bare bottom spankings in my life, and three were because I got in trouble while in the bathtub or in the bathroom. When I got the belt from foster parents that I stayed with for a year, I always had to get it in my underwear. But one time I got the belt on my bare bottom. That time I was getting spanked with their kids (all of us bent over the bed in a row) because we had told a collective lie as a group. When their mother was ready to spank us we were ordered to lower our pants, when their youngest daughter said "underwear too?", and the answer was yes, underwear too. So I got an exceptionally painful spanking that day.

It happened when I was six and was staying with one of the foster families that I grew up with. We were riding to the mall or the grocery store in the Country Squire station wagon when their mother asked us from the front of the car if we had our seat belts on. After a series of clicks, we all said "yes" in unison. She simply responded by saying: "You are all getting the belt when we get home!" because we had been caught lying.

The remainder of the trip to the store was depressing, because we had that to look forward to. After we got home, she herded us upstairs to their bedroom and ordered all of us to pull our pants down and bend over the water bed. Their typical punishment was getting the belt in underwear (or shorts if I happened to be wearing them), so that was normal, but usually I would be by myself or just with either my younger foster brother or my real sister, but this time one of their daughters was there as well, and she was the one who asked if we needed to take down our underwear as well.

I must have gotten twenty or thirty, but I was not counting. It stung real bad. Despite how thin the cotton underwear or shorts that I was normally spanked in were, they were still were able to absorb some of the wicked sting of getting the belt.



When my sister and I were in our pre-teen years we shared a bedroom. We always found things to giggle about. This didn't bother my mother too much as she had sisters. My father would get annoyed at these nightly giggle fests. He would shush us, and threaten us with a spanking. We even were spanked a few times. There was this time that daddy came in after the threats. My sister and I dove under the sheets to hide from him. He yelled, "I told you two to knock it off." He smacked the sheets on both of our beds. I think he got our legs but it didn't hurt. He left and we quietly continued to giggle. I think daddy may have been too tired, or lazy to really spank us. Needless to say, my sister and I both found that to be funny.



A neighbour recounted how she and her sister were both in trouble and scheduled to get it. They quick ran to the baking supply drawer in the kitchen and retrieved small pie tins and stuffed them down the back of their slacks. Then then went back to get their spankings. Of course, mom noticed but she pretended not to notice and started banging away on the pie tin, while laughing more less hysterically. Both kids got their bottoms banged and everyone ended up laughing and in a good mood.

Another stuffing story had a less funny and less happy ending for the stuffer. Again a distant friend was involved. Her sister stuffed a comic book down her pants. I asked what happened. The answer, and now I quote, "One whack and then she got it on her bare butt."



I got a few of those "just wait until we get home" spanking sentences and it was always dreadful. Especially if we still had shopping or visiting to do, the whole time I was thinking about how bad my spanking was going to be.
More common and just as awful was the "wait until your father gets home" pronouncements. Mother actually spanked us more often, but for serious misbehaviors we had to wait for Father's belt. That could mean hours of fretful waiting :-(
Once I recall at 12 yrs old I got into school trouble and Mom had to pick me up in the principal's office. The principal lady and mom talked about me and then mom said, "Don't worry, Marci won't do this again after the spanking she's going to get at home."
I was so embarrassed and when we got home I expected to be spanked but mom sent me to my room to do my homework. I shyly asked "what about my spanking?" and she laughed, saying "I'll spank you right now if you want but you're still going to get your father's belt when he gets home."
I quickly declined.



Personally I was always sensitive about the "spanking subject" - any reference made me feel queasy, even watching a tv show with my family, a mention of spanking made me blush.
Even younger I would not discuss my own spankings with anyone and as a teen still being spanked bare bottomed I would NEVER mention it to my friends, even though most of them knew I still "got it" and some of them did also.
My younger sister dreaded her spankings also, but she would openly admit to others that she "got her rump roasted" and such and I cringed in shame hearing her say that.
Once when I was 12 (she was 11) she admitted to two of her friends "Me and Marci got our bare butts spanked last night" and I was so humiliated I ended up getting into a big fight with my sister and screaming at her.
I actually got spanked AGAIN! for that, right in front of my sister!, but then my parents talked to her and she never mentioned my spankings again (in public) though she still admitted to others that her behind was red!

But that didn't stop my mother from threatening/sentencing me to spankings even when people could hear her say stuff!



Two neighbor kids lived next door for a year. The boy was a bit older than me and the girl my age and the kids and their parents were very open about the frequent spankings in their house.

They all knew about spankings we got from my mother and because often we all could hear each other's crying and such from next door. But I was still very shy and not willing to discuss any such thing!

The boy Clint and the girl Kasey had no problem talking about spankings. "Dad really let me have it with the belt last night," Carl would admit or Kasey would complain "I hate it when mom uses the hairbrush that sucker STINGS!" and I would cringe and blush.

I hated when they would question us, like - "Dang Marci, was it you or your sister who was bawling this morning? We could hear someone gett'n their butt spanked!?"

I always deflected, but my stupid little sister sometimes chimed in, like - "Ya we always get it with our panties pulled down too" and I'd stare daggers at her cuz it was nobody's business that I was still spanked bare bottom at 13 years old!



Mother often spanked us with her evil wooden hairbrush and it was common for her to send us to fetch it for a spanking.
One time Mom asked us to "go find my hairbrush!" as she was searching all over.
My sister and I were petrified! As we looked in drawers and cabinets for the dreaded brush we whispered to each other, "I didn't DO anything! You must be in trouble!"
"No! It was not ME I've been good!" we couldn't figure out which one of us (or both) was in for a hairbrush spanking. We were both on the verge of tears, my behind was tingling, when we finally found Mom's hairbrush in the car, where it had fallen out of her purse.

As oldest, I had to hand the scary spanking brush to Mom, both of us covering our behinds with our hands, visions of hot bare bottoms...
Only to have Mother sigh, "Oh thanks girls, I'm late for a meeting!" and she proceeded to quickly brush her hair while we stood quivering and grateful - later we laughed nervously about it all.



One night my parents had a business party at our house and I was about nine and much too young to attend legitimately. I tried to go to sleep but the house was a loop and closing off the bedroom part of the loop didn't really keep the noise out. After resisting for a while, I decided to check out what was happening. I wandered out into the living area and promptly sat down in a big chair with short armrests. The mom of two of my friends saw me first and came right over. She told me to go back to bed or I would get a spanking. I replied that "spanking doesn't work with me!" She then pulled my pyjama bottoms very tight, skin tight would not be an exaggeration, and gave me this demo hand spank on my right bottom cheek. It was the stingiest hand spank I had ever felt. I was shocked that she would give me a spank and that it would be so intense. Right before or after the demo spank, now I can't remember, she said, in reply to my bragging that spanking didn't work, the following and of this I am 100% sure because it really got me thinking: "The second one will." I didn't cry or even say ouch from her hand spank but it was a most impressive sample. I was certain I didn't want even the first spanking from her, much less a second. As I was mulling over my stinging bottom and her talk of a second, I realized "What was there to prevent a third?" This was clearly a war that kids could not win. Off to bed I went.

I never forgot that brief conversation but I always behaved whenever I played with her kids! In her defense of giving me a demo spank, I was up late and out in the adults' room when I should have been in bed asleep so she may have thought she was saving me from getting the real thing from my mom.



I howled plenty, but it never did any good, and basically just alerted the neighbors to the fact that I was getting a spanking. My protests had usually been lodged--loudly--before I got to my room, and when my dad came in with the strap in his hand my crying would probably be a combination of one and three. I think I most often reached that moment you refer to as "giving in" as I was being put over his knee and having my underpants taken down. From then on it was just sobbing and the usual begging him to stop and the promises to be good. Even though I kicked and squirmed somewhat--always to no avail--I knew that real resistance at that point was futile, and that I just needed to get through it. I don't think I ever felt true remorse until after the spanking was over. I think that remorse is at least partially a product of reasoning, and reasoning was something I just wasn't capable of while I was over my dad's knee with the strap landing on my bare bottom. At that point I was all emotions; reasoning came later.

Being spanked made me angry of course, but it was often anger that brought about my spanking. In other words it was cause as well as effect. I was not raised by parents who instilled in me a lot of confidence, a feeling of self sufficiency. Spankings exacerbated my general feelings of helplessness, and I even felt helpless a lot of the time in preventing or interrupting the process that led to them. I'd mouth off, things would escalate, I knew what I needed to do to prevent the inevitable but for some reason just couldn't do it, and the whole thing would culminate in me being over my dad's knee with my bottom bare. And yet, the spanking would help me cry enough to sort of "clear" myself emotionally, at least of that deep seated thing that often seemed to be running the show. I think that there was some sort of existential grief at the heart of it--where it comes from I do not know--and the experience of my spankings perhaps helped me reach it and touch it somehow.  As an adult I'm still emotional, I still cry easily, but getting to that deep place is not something I can do easily or often. So as odd as it might sound, for me spankings in a way were a good thing, as much as I didn't like them.



I remember having a competent father that knew all the secrets of spanking me... I never seemed to learn. I was a stubborn girl, and grit my teeth. So first, one heard nothing but the loud ringing sound of his hand that kept hitting me, every other second. My burn was building up, and I had at least the impression he was hitting harder. Even my stubbornness and high pain threshold couldn't cope anymore with his now fierce stings and I started to plead and yell “Ooh! Ouch! Ahh! Please dad! Ouch! It hurts OUCH! too much!" My bottom was now really terribly hot and terribly sore, with every smack it became even more hotter and sorer and I had to give up. "Oww howw howw howw howwwww —” My yells conflagrated to the uninterrupted, desperate howling of a girl that is competently and effectively spanked. Between my snot and cries, I discovered I was really very terribly sorry that I had ever done the thing that had brought me in this terrible situation - which was generally the moment dad would stop. I was just crying and howling and trying to say sorry, but it hurt too much. If then my spanking had continued, I suppose I would get exhausted of the pain and emotions - a feeling I am glad I never had as a kid.



Spankings in our house, always given across their knee except on those rare occasions when the belt was used, were almost invariably carried out in the naughty daughter's bedroom, though occasionally mum or dad would simply pull up a chair in our kitchen and do it. My bedroom was slightly more comfortable (if you discount the spanking part), in that the bed supported both my legs and upper body.

Either way, with both my sister and I the ritual was always the same, regardless of our age. Mum (or occasionally dad) would tuck up our skirt/dress, then our underpants would wind up around our knees or ankles before we were guided into position. Then their hand or hairbrush began its work and always continued until we were crying properly. Our spankings always concluded with a hug, but if we sulked or appeared to be holding a grudge, then it was back across their knee again.



One summer afternoon when I was 11, I was staying with my dad and stepmom Julie. Julie had just given birth to my half sister Katie and was tired from getting up twice each night to breastfeed. Julie and I got along very well - she was truly a second mom to me, but I guess having to share attention with Katie, I snapped on Julie that afternoon.

Julie was obviously hurt, and I genuinely felt bad. I knew I deserved a spanking and after getting brave enough, went in and apologized to her and asked to be spanked. Julie agreed that it was warranted and reminded me I would need to be more patient for a month or so.

Julie pulled my pants down and then took me over her lap for a spanking with her hairbrush. She spanked hard, I had a good cry and afterwards she commended me for stepping up as I did and that she would not mention the incident to my dad.



My big sis was two years older, my little brother two years younger. We were spanked together, face down over the kitchen table.

In our neighbourhood lived an old lady with her husband, who was paralysed after a stroke. Her temper was vile, she was always cursing us, kids, for a nothing. We decided she was a witch, and to give her something to curse us.

In sunny days, older people laid out the wash on the green, to bleach in the sun. From over the wall, we threw clods of earth on it. With little brother on the lookout, we were far away when she came out her door, old and limp. It was a great game.

But we underestimated the powers of a new technology: the telephone. The witch rang her sister, who suddenly fell upon us. We ran away, but she knew us very well, and much worse: she knew our mother, too.

In theory, our mother was a great supporter of ‘save the rod, spoil the child’, in practice she was a sweet and patient mother, mostly. But when anger prevailed, you were in for a chastisement of biblical proportions. Did we suffer. Our mother was deeply aggrieved by our unworthy behaviour, and gave us the breadboard.

We were laying on our belly over the table, with our heads on our folded arms, “everything off” , our naked legs dangling in the air, our bare bottoms well presented to get hurt badly. She scolded us a long time, stressing the important points of her lecture with mighty whacks of that board, one by one. You felt the burn till in your hair. Big sis, little sis (me), little bro, back again big sis. Then I knew it was my turn, listening in fear to when the scolding would reach a peak, to be stressed by a hard bang and a hot rush of pain.

While it was a few hundred metres till the house of the “witch”, she must have heard us, we did not suffer our ordeal in silence. The whacks sounded like gunshots on our bare skin, the hot burning made us scream like little pigs at each stroke, this all commented by loud and angry scolding.

Immediately afterwards, our bottoms still painful and our faces thick with tears, we had to go with our mother and apologise to the old lady AND her paralysed husband, in his smelly, dark bed. That was even worse than the beating. Not only our bottoms felt bad.



At the first good, hard, over the knee, partially remembered bare bottom spanking I was five. I was alone at home with my mother, ill but obviously recovered, very bored and very likely very naughty. It is a black and white movie with no sound and even no remembrance of pain: only remembered scenes and emotions.

There had been warnings before, the tension was rising.
The first scene is one of me, confident in the couch, probably giving a very disrespectful answer.
The second scene is my mother wrestling, pulling my pants off and getting me over the knee.
The third scene is fury: beating a sick little girl, how dared she!
The fourth scene, I am howling at full force and kicking my legs as hard as I can, to no avail.
The fifth scene, I am bawling in misery, snot and tears, promising as convincing as possible I will be good. Very probably, my mother is still expertly heating my bottom.
The final scene is me, promising to be good, trying to rub the hot burn from my smarting buttocks with my both hands, standing before my mother, who is smiling gently. Yes, smiling gently! I was shocked for a lifetime. But I learned then and there that if she warned me, I'd better heed that warning.

   

My sassy little sister afterwards joked about her 8th summer being very short. When she went biking, she'd promised to stay inside the development where we lived.

There were about 5 miles of sidewalks in continuous cul de sacs.

She decided to visit a friend, and got out on the road that ran through through the development and connected up to another major street.

She and the friend went wading, and she came home wet up to the waist.

When she came home, Dad gave her a strapping right at the front door,and she got grounded for a month besides.

She behaved herself for a month when she was finished being grounded, but ended the summer being strapped and grounded for repeating the whole scenerio!

She must've really loved that friend!



We had a creek a little ways from our house. It really wasn't safe. There were snakes and illegal aliens (ha ha!! Yes! Illegal aliens) and what not, but it was always fun down there. There was almost always water, and swings on the trees, and all sorts of neat stuff.

There were usually 3 or 4 others that would go down there. I most definitely wasn't allowed down there. They were allowed, for the most part, or at least never said that they weren't.

Same thing. If my parents found out, as soon as I walked in the door, over the couch I went and I was strapped like nobody's business. They were never much for grounding so I didn't miss much of my summer, but it was certainly a painful summer. That was probably 6th or 7th grade...right around there.

The last time I ever went down there was when my friends found out I punished for going there. We were all walking home to my house, and I had just gotten a new bike a few months before. Was a really nice mountain bike. Well my bike and a boulder had a little disagreement in the creek (ha ha!) and the tire and fork were just bent to hell. I guess my Dad had been looking out the window when we came walking home (my bike was not rideable), came out, and informed my friends that they would need to go home because I was going to get my bare behind strapped. One of my friends told me a few weeks later that as they were walking down our driveway, they heard my entire spanking right down to the lecture. All the windows were open, of course. They even told me how many swats I got. LOL!

Never went down there again after that, until I was much, much older.



I grew up in a suburb, and there was a field about three quarters of a mile long between our back fence and the main artery of our city. A creek bisected it at about its half way point. I was allowed as far as the creek, but absolutely no farther. I'm not well coordinated physically, and the one time I illicitly tried to cross it I slipped (naturally!) and got both legs wet partly up to my knees. As soon as I walked in the door my mom knew the explanation for my wet pant legs. It was the weekend, so my dad was home which meant she turned me over to him. He applied his strap to my bare bottom. Vigorously. I thereafter avoided the creek.



I was spanked along with my sister for getting our clothes dirty outside after we had been warned to NOT get them dirty. Of course, we had no control over this. We went down the road to talk to some kids and did not play and told them we couldn't because we would get spanked if we got dirty.

The two boys thought it would be funny to get us in trouble and they threw mud at us. I still remember what I was wearing--I had pretty pink jeans on with a striped pink and white shirt. My pants were full of mud.

My sister and I went home bawling our eyes out. We were greeted by our very angry father, who did not care why we were full of mud. He reiterated that we were NOT to get dirty and we did not follow that rule!!! When we tried to explain that we didn't play that these boys wanted us to get in trouble and threw mud at us---he said we should have known they would do this and he proceeded to prepare us for our spanking.

He usually pulled our pants down, but this time I remember that he kept tugging at my jeans and they would not come down. By this time, I was pretty hysterical and I remember him yelling at me to "pull your pants down". I was crying and shaking so bad. To me it was one of the worst spankings I got due to the humiliation of having to pull my own pants down.

It seems I was spanked the most around 5-7 years old. I was 7 when my step father left our house and truly feel this was a turning point for discipline in our house. I have no memories of being spanked after he left.

As stated in a previous post, I was spanked for wetting the bed each and every single time it happened. I wet the bed until he left the house. If that doesn't say something, nothing does!!! It stopped as soon as he left. He was a truck driver and I remember he had Wednesdays off and I hated Wednesdays, because my sister and I were always spanked when he was home. We never had a Wednesday where it wasn't painful.



Many times my parents would make me and my sisters pronounce our own sentence for a spanking.

My Dad especially was big on this. He'd say things like "What happens to naughty girls who don't do as they're told Jennifer?" and I would go mute only to get "I need an answer from you..." and I'd have to say "They get spanked". Then I'd get the "I didn't quite hear you....what happens?" and I'd have to say it louder. Then he'd say..."That's the right answer...so you know what you need to do. Get your pants down and get over the bed young lady".

Both he and my Mom were also big on saying "What did I say would happen if you did that again?" and it would go the same way as above.

I found these instances particularly humiliating because it was almost like having to ask them to spank me.

I grew up with two sisters and we were all fairly close in age. I am the middle with one sister three years older and one two years younger than me. The shame of being spanked was always magnified exponentially when either one or both of my sisters was there to witness my being sentenced to one or, barring that, being within earshot when one was delivered. Neither me nor my two sisters were very stoic when undergoing a spanking and, although generally given in private, it was nigh on impossible not to know when one was being handed out. I hated knowing that my sisters could hear me getting spanked and they often loved to tease me about having been spanked as well. Making fun of how I cried and how much I carried on and the like.

For the most part it seemed that one or the other of us would be told by our Dad at the dinner table that we were going to be spanked right after dinner was through. This was almost always the result of some kind of arguing or name calling or whatnot while at the table rather than for anything that we may have done before dinner and usually the two non sentenced of us would grin at the one who was to be spanked or kick them under the table and such. Many times this would be picked up on by my Dad and be met with a "If you think it's so funny Jennifer,then you can get spanked too and we'll see if you think it's so funny then" and he would do it. This happened frequently but still did not stop us.



I was 5 and my sister was 3. We were up quite early that morning and we were playing house before our parents got up. In the process of playing, we were pretending that she was a baby and was sick. I got the St. Joseph's Baby Aspirin and gave her almost the whole bottle. It was discovered, thankfully, when my mother got up and the bottle was on the counter and almost empty.

I remember her being very upset and she grabbed both of us and went to our neighbor's house to find out what to do. They proceeded to make my sister vomit and felt they had succeeded in getting all the aspirin out. I remember them discussing my punishment openly. The neighbor offered to give my mother their "paddle to paddle her fanny good". Having never been paddled I remember being so afraid. My mother said no --to my relief. I was afraid and knew that I had a spanking coming and that it would be severe.

As stated in other posts, my step father was very liberal with his discipline and we were spanked quite often. He did not hesitate to spank. I just knew he was going to be spanking me. I was still in my pajamas and remember wishing I had jeans and underwear on to help my poor behind. My mother never spanked us on our bare bottom. However, my step father always spanked on the bare bottom.

I remember coming into the house and my mother going to her bedroom. I followed at a safe distance, not wanting to be caught spying on what she was doing or getting in regards to my impending spanking. I heard her tell my step father, who was in the shower what had happened. I remember him telling her that he was getting out of the shower and he would "take care of" me. I was petrified, I remember tears filling my eyes and the shaking beginning. She said no that she was taking care of it. I immediately ran down the hall to the living room,again not wanting to be caught spying.

She came down the hall to get me and when she entered the living room I was beyond petrified. She was holding my step father's belt doubled over in her hand. I had seen almost all of my friends spanked with the belt, most times out in the road or in the yard (it was the 1960s life was completely different). I knew by the screams of my friends that this was a lethal instrument. I remember her calling my name and telling me to come to my bedroom. I started to cry and shake my head, begging her "No, Mommy....No, I can't.....don't.....I am so sorry....No, no." I was told in no uncertain terms that I needed to move or my father would be giving me The Belt!!! That got me moving.

I ran to my bedroom and she told me to lay on the bed. Once again, in childish resistance, I laid on the bed on my back -- by this point I was hysterical. She said, "Roll over, Tracey, NOW!" I just knew I was going to die. I rolled over and she did not hesitate to start. As stated previously, I had on thin summer pajamas with no underwear. She did not require that they be pulled down. I have not a clue how many licks I received. I remember putting my hands on my bottom to protect it. She told me to move my hands, which I didn't. She then hit my hands with the belt. I moved them very quickly. The whole spanking didn't last long I am sure. But to this day I still get butterflies when I see someone holding a doubled over belt in their hand. It was truly the most painful thing I had ever endured.

I was never hit with the belt again, but it was definitely used as a deterrent to unwanted behavior in my house. My sister never received the belt, she said it was enough hearing it and seeing the evidence on my bottom.



We were at the annual picnic they called it that it was actually a barbecue. It was held annually every third week in July. I hadn't wanted to go that year and begged to be allowed to stay home to no avail. I kept going to my dad while he was at the grill begging for him to take me home. He kept saying things like. "Stop bothering me." "Go find something to do" "The grill is going to make you sick" "If you keep coming over here you wont be able to have any watermelon" The fact being they used charcoal not gas like we used at home. The charcoal always gave me an asthma attack as did watermelon but for this picnic I was always allowed a small piece of watermelon. I must of went back and forth to the grill about twenty times maybe more always begging to go home. After awhile I gave up.

I went over to where my twin and her friend were playing they were witches and started to throw gravel at my sister she started screaming at me to stop. I told her witches got stoned and burned at the stake as a tom-boy I really did not understand their game and thought it was childish and silly. Her friend started to scream at me to stop too, since I hadn't threw anything at her I started throwing the gravel at her too. This was just tiny little pieces of gravel not nothing deadly by the way and it wasn't like I was aiming anywhere that would hurt them. To my sisters friend it must of been deadly because though the adults all heard they weren't going to intercede between us until the girl marched herself over to my father and demand he make me stop. He of coarse was now dragged into the middle of it. He moved from the grill called me to him and since i had been being difficult all day he said "Do you want me to fire you up!" I was horrified how could he say that in front of all those people? I looked at him and with all the bravery disrespect and sarcasm I could muster I said "Yes sir I do want you to fire me up!"

He grabbed my arm and yanked me across the lawn taking the shortest route possible to his office instead of taking me to the front he took me into the courthouse out the back door down the short sidewalk and down the four steps to the back door into the station. It was the reverse walk they took prisoners when they had brought them in for their court hearings. During this whole walk I kept shouting. "You don't have to drag me I can walk!" Why in the world this wasn't as embarrassing as what he said to this day and it has been almost 19 years I do not know. No one stopped us to say anything but they sure came to stare.

Once in his office he removed his belt and I knew what he was going to do instantly as I had a friend who was whipped. I sort of backed into the wall a very bad habit I had as if the wall was going to open up and swallow me to prevent the unpreventable. He didn't seem to notice he ordered me to bend over the desk. I did not. I shook my head no. He ordered me to do it a second time I shouted no! He ordered my hands behind my back and gave me the two finger slap to my mouth and ordered me over the desk for the third time and I managed to tell him I couldn't do it.

I was raised punishment was something you could prevent and you brought on yourself by not doing what you were suppose to so crying and any other form of resistance wasn't taking lightly but since he had promised himself he'd never use the object he held on any of his children and had successfully raised three without doing so he didn't force me over the desk he yanked out the desk chair and pulled me over his knee where he flipped up my jean skirt slid my panties down just enough and begin to "fire me up" with the belt. I don't remember if it hurt I remember the sound that echoed off the wall like no sound I'd ever heard and I remember crying the whole time and begging him to stop. Behavior that had he been paddling me would of gotten me worser punishment. As I mentioned he must of not whipped me hard though at the time in my mind he did. I was left with only a few light pink welts that disappeared by that evening though I had cried myself into hysterics and once it was over and I was back on my feet he hugged me and said "Look at us crying like babies, it wasn't that bad you delinquent turkey" And I stole a quick look at him and realized he was indeed crying and I had never saw him cry in my entire life and that is when I really started to cry and feel terrible. I was still very mad at him for embarrassing me but by that point I was mad at me too for making him cry too.

That is my one and only experience with a belt and yes I know I deserved it or worse probably and I had acted like a complete baby. It was an eye opening experience for me and I managed to go at least two to three weeks before my disrespect got the better of me once again. Which it did that whole year as I mentioned before, however it was usually directed at mom who would inform Dad as soon as he came home that his daughter "needed" a paddling.



The first time I got spanked with the belt was when I was seven. My older sister was 10 at the time and she had been getting spanked by my Dad with the belt for a couple of years and I had seen the awful stripes on her bottom from it and hoped to never experience it on my own behind. Until this point Dad had only hand spanked me over his knee, which hurt plenty enough.

My older sister and I shared a bedroom until we moved a year later and each got our own. We were in bed one night and were carrying on giggling and talking after repeated warnings to go to sleep. My Dad had even given the dreaded "If I hear one more sound out of there you'll both be sorry". We tried to be quiet but then my sister repeated what he said in a silly voice and I burst out laughing. Well, true to his word Dad burst into the room and I pretended to b e asleep. He yanked the covers off me and started whipping my butt with his belt. I think I got whipped about ten times and it stung so bad on top of the shock of it actually happening. He did it over my nightgown so thankfully it was not on my bare bottom...all subsequent strappings from him were though.

My sister then got it and she was already hysterical from having seen me getting spanked. Hers was more formal though. She was told to lay on her stomach and she got whipped, also on her pajamas, around 20 times. Then Dad said "Now go to sleep or I'll be back to give you more!"

We were both weeping like mad and I kept worrying that our crying was going to summon him back into the room. Neither my sister nor I dared utter a word though.

The next morning I expected Mom to comfort us and I was whining about how Daddy had spanked me with the belt and we were told that we had plenty of chances to behave and chose to ignore them.

I'm glad we each got our own bedrooms shortly thereafter which probably saved a repeat of that scenario playing out again. It was not however the last time we both got strapped together though. That was always terrible, especially if I had to go after my sister because seeing her, or my younger sister, going through the throes of spanking agony made me acutely aware that I'd soon be doing the same.



Both of my parents made me pull down my pants on my own. I was always spanked on the bare bottom and I would always beg not to be. I'd even go halfway and beg my Mom to let me keep my panties on and she would say things like "Your panties didn't misbehave..YOU did. Now take them down" or "Naughty girls get their bare bottoms spanked dear".

I was never one to go willingly and every time if I was in pants I would take them down and leave my panties up only to get told "Panties too...you know better" and such. I never would because I'd always hold out that glimmer of hope that maybe this once I'd be allowed to keep them on.

For that matter I'd have to pull them down while standing (Dad thankfully would let me pull my panties down while facing away from him or when I was already lying on the bed) and I'd try to cover myself with my hands and be told "Put your hands at your side" as I got the finishing touches of Mom's pre-spanking lecture before being told to bend over her knee. As much as I hated being spanked I was almost longing for that moment so I would only have my bottom on display. Maybe she did this as further punishment to add humiliation into the mix. I don't know.

I would resist and refuse and be told that I had to the count of three or I'd get extras or else Mom would smack my thighs until I obeyed and the like. Most times I'd whisk them down at the "two and a half" point but some times I would stubbornly (and foolishly) hold out till three. I'd also get told that if she had to pull them down I'd get spanked and sent to bed after dinner (or sundry other punishments like loss of TV privileges or being grounded).

I think I kind of needed her to say those things because I was almost paralyzed when it came to having to bare my bottom knowing how bad the spanking to come was going to hurt and I would try to postpone it for every second I could



I got spanked a couple of times before school and it was wretched. One time I remember was in fifth grade and I was throwing a tantrum because my younger sister had taken my hair ribbon that I was going to wear that day and I threw a fit over it. I was calling her names and yelling and just being a little brat. My Mom told me that I had a right to be upset but that she was not about to condone the way I went about expressing my anger and that she "was going to turn my attitude around pronto". We were in the kitchen and she grabbed the wooden spoon out of the drawer and told me to pull down my pants and bend over her knee.

She was right. My attitude made an abrupt turn for I immediately became a very remorseful little girl and started apologizing to my sister, to my Mom and to anyone I could think of! I begged her not to spank me but it was too late. She set my bottom on fire and I had to shuffle to school with a very sore butt that day and it hurt sitting at my desk. I felt like everyone in my class might somehow know I had been spanked that morning and the idea scared me badly.



I hid my Mom's hairbrush once and the act was discovered when she was in need of it to tan my little sister's fanny. I had to confess and retrieve it and I got spanked as well. Not too many swats but as a reminder to respect others' property and to show what would happen if I did so again



I can recall twice that I got my Mom's brush a second time and they were my fault. Once I was dumb enough to tell her that the spanking she just gave me didn't hurt (although it stung like fire!)and she then said "Well, this will change that then you smart aleck!" and made sure I was really howling.

The other time was along the same lines where I had just gotten my butt blistered by her and I jumped up rubbing my bottom and yelled "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" which got me dragged back over her lap for more of the same with her lecturing me how I was not allowed to say that to her and emphasizing each word with a hard smack to my bottom.

I never made either one of those mistakes ever again. In the instances where she would ask me if I wanted another dose of the hairbrush (which she did NOT ask in the two aforementioned instances where I actually got them!)I would most emphatically tell her that I did not.

You are right about the hairbrush...it was ferocious. Mom had a big oval heavy wooden hairbrush and I could not even ever look at it without it bring to mind vivid memories of it being used on my bottom. My mom would often spank me in her bedroom and she would lecture me while I stood before her with her seated in the bed and the brush would be alongside her. The second she would pick it up I'd start begging not be be spanked with it...the whole "Please Mommy! I'll behave...I'll be a good girl...I promise!" routine and start to cry. Other times when I'd be sent to my room for a spanking and I would see her walk in the door with her brush in her hand it would be the same way...I'd start blubbering and saying "No Mommy! Please...not the brush!" I might have just as well saved my breath because she could not be swayed.

To this day when I see a brush like hers it brings back memories of my being spanked and I only have round, cylindrical hairbrushes.

Mom would also spank with a wooden spoon sometimes and it too stung like you wouldn't believe. It may not have been quite as awful as her hairbrush but pretty darn close. She spanked hard and always till me and my sisters were bawling like mad and every spanking was given on the bare bottom. They did not always START that way but they always ended that way. Most times when I was spanked over my skirt or pants it was as I was being marched to my room or if I was slow to obey the order to pull down my pants and she'd loose a volley on my thighs and bottom until I'd comply.

My Dad used either a razor strop or his belt on my bottom and they too were horrible. I don't know which was worse...the strap/belt or the hairbrush...all would reduce me to a blubbering mess and stung like mad. Dad kept the razor strap hanging on the inside of our bathroom door upstairs and I'd have to look at it every time I was in there. Once not too many years ago I was at my parents' house and some friends of the family were over and I heard my Dad telling the man about how my Mom once bought him a straight razor and whenever he attempted to shave with it he looked like he came out on the losing end of a knife fight but that he did get a lot of use out of the strop in "keeping his daughters on the straight and narrow". I thought I was going to die I was so embarrassed!



From the ages of 11 to 14 were the years where I was uncertain whether or not I would get spanked... In today's world there is no doubt that 14 hell even 11 would be considered too old for a girl to be spanked. But in 1981 when I was 13 it was I guess borderline... In my situation the last spanking I received was when I was 1 week past my 13th birthday... I was caught swimming (actually skinny dipping) with a group of girls in a quarry we were forbidden to go to because of the danger there. I came home and walked in the front door and was met by my father who wanted to know why I decided to go swimming in a place that was forbidden. Before I could answer I was over his lap with my backside bared for the whole family to see and got one of the hardest spanking I had ever received. After a few smacks I was already in tears and promising to be good... Although it was the last spanking I received there were a few more times where the outcome was up for debate...



Our granny was a sweet Mother Earth, but our grandfather was a gloomy man with an enormous moustache as big as a broom. I was very scared of him, and with good reason. His rules were strict, his patience with naughtiness or disobedience absent and he considered all us city girls as spoiled brats. He was from 1883, 69 when I was born, but he remained in great health till he was 96.

He only used his hand, but that hand was hard as concrete. He always spanked “on the bare bottom, otherwise you do not care”. After the spanking, he put me with my nose against that kitchen wall (literally), to make me ponder my terrible misdeeds that got me there (such as cursing or using the Name of the Lord in vain). I never was better behaved and with "a clean mouth", than there.
I watch the old wall, finding back the scratches that danced close to my teary eyes. They are still there.



I was always scared to death when I knew I was going to be spanked. My fear grew in stages. Being sentenced to a spanking was stage one. Getting the pre-spanking lecture was stage two because I knew I was moments away. Lots of times...and I see it today like it was happening right now, Mom would be sitting on the bed telling me off as I stood before her and the hairbrush would be lying alongside her. I heard what she was saying to me and responded to it but I was focused in on that awful brush and just dreading the moment it was going to start its awful rain of misery on my bare bottom. Stage three was the order to "pull down your panties and bend over my knee". I'd fight that every time...begging, pleading, crying. and when I saw Mom pick up the brush elevated my fear even higher. When I finally was over her knee and before the first smack fell I'd be twisting side to side and just in terror and that continued all through my actual spanking.

Some times, and I found this particularly cruel, Mom would make me go and bring her the hairbrush from her dresser after she lectured me. I knew better but some small part of me hoped that maybe this once I was going to get off with just a hand spanking only to get the "Now go and bring me my hairbrush and do it quickly".

The same held true for spankings from my Dad. Seeing him with his God awful razor strop in his hand or removing his belt made my knees buckle and sucked the wind right out of me. Just the threat of a spanking from him would have me on edge all day even if he did not deliver it. Just knowing that one was in the wings if I stepped out of line kept me on my toes and made me so very nervous and cautious around him.

Unfortunately for me none of my parents' spanking implements ever broke on me or my sisters. Mom still has the hairbrush she used on our behinds 29 years after it last visited my bottom. Dad's razor strop has vanished and I don't know...and will never ask...what became of it.To my knowledge the strap never wore out but it sure wore out my bottom!

The only thing that broke during a spanking in my house was my defiance and my voice!

I do remember wishing that Mom's brush would break and I also remember hiding it from her once. She was going to spank my younger sister when she saw it had gone missing and it was ferreted out that I was the one who had hidden it so I got my butt spanked along with my sister.



I think I started telling both my parents that I was too old to be spanked starting at around the age of ten and I continued doing so right until I was last spanked at the age of 17. I would do so after being told I was getting a spanking however and never as a sit down and discuss my punishment regimen with my parents type of thing. This latter scenario never occurred to me and if it did it might have reminded them of some recent infraction that might have merited a spanking owed!

I also tried the "none of my friends get spanked" line of reasoning and would get told "Well, they're lucky not to live in this house because here naughty little girls who misbehave get their bare bottoms spanked!".

I was also highly embarrassed from about the age of 11 onwards of having to bare my bottom (especially for my Dad) and would plead to keep my panties up. I'd be told that if I wanted to keep my panties up then all I had to do was to do as I was told and I wouldn't have to worry about it.


 
Mom:
"You just earned yourself a date with my hairbrush young lady"

if we were out in public she would generally say "I'm going to give you a dancing lesson when we get home" (in reference to how I'd hop around and rub my bottom after she lit it on fire with her hairbrush!)

"That's it...it's time for a spanking"

"Since you didn't listen when I told you to do (or not to do) XXXXX I am going to deliver the message to your bottom and maybe that will get your attention"

"I'm going to paddle you purple!"

"You're going over my knee young lady"

"We're going upstairs for a discussion..."

"I'll straighten you out Missy!"

Dad:

"Do you want to get your butt whipped?"

"Let's go get you spanked"

"You're getting your butt whipped"

"You're getting the strap young lady"

"I'm gonna whip your little butt!"



When I think back spankings were generally connected with fathers although most mothers worked at home. I grew up in a two family house at the end of a dead end road with maybe 12-15 houses. My father spanked my sister and me.

In the house across there were two girls. One evening when we were skipping rope with one of them her sister called her home revealing she would get a spanking from their father. The whole bunch followed the poor girl home and she did get it. Their windows were open.

The only spanking mother I ever knew was our neighbour opposite who had only one child – a girl. She spanked a lot and used to call her daughter in with a big clothes brush in hand and wallop her behind all the way up to the front door. Of course the poor girl was embarrassed and defended herself by claiming that she was glad she got a good upbringing (as opposed to the rest of us).



Spankings were preferably given 'over the knee', even in school (with the ruler, which was outlawed but did happen). It was a typical children's punishment, and as such reminded them they were still a child.

My mother would grab my ear, and drag me tiptoeing to the sofa, me holding her arm that held my ear. On the sofa, she would take my panties down and then bend me over her left leg, with the top of my body resting on the sofa. Her right leg went over my legs to prevent kicking.

My father would lose his patience (I had the best daddy in tne world, but not yet perfect), put his foot on the chair, put me over his raised leg and flip up my skirt (they were shortening every year), to give me few but phenomenally hard spanks on my underpants.

My granddad sat himself on a stool in the kitchen, and bend me over his one knee, so that I hung nearly upside down, his hand in my back pushing me down and his other leg over the back of my knees, pushing these down to stretch the naked skin over the target area properly. I don't know if it increased the sting, but you thought so, so it felt so. His old, callous farmer's hand stung very keenly.

As a mother, your child's bottom is at your disposal, kept well in place, ideally placed to punish it properly, at the right place and with the right force. The child over your lap and her upturned backside, in its naked state, promotes a sound but a careful spanking. You see, hear and feel your child, your flesh and blood.



I attempted on more than one occasion to cover my bottom, and would get my thighs spanked, which stung even worse than having my bottom spanked. One would think I'd learn after the first time this happened, but not so. My Mom's hairbrush felt like molten metal being poured on my buttocks and I simply couldn't help myself.

When my Dad would strap my bottom my hands would fly back to my bottom and I'd jump up. He did not strap my thighs but would tell me to "Get back down if you know what's good for you" or say things like "If you put your hands back there again Jennifer you're going to get five more when I'm through do you understand?" And more than once that threat was carried out.

I do not recall a spanking where I did not end up in tears and in fact most often I'd be crying before the first smack hit my bottom. I would fight the order to pull down my panties, and beg and plead for a reprieve that almost never came.

I hid my Mom's hairbrush one time. I was ten years old when I did it. I thought that if it was gone then I would not get my bottom spanked or if I did then I'd get a hand spanking instead of the evil brush.

My plan backfired however. Mom was going to spank my little sister and discovered it missing and demanded to know where it went and who took it. I had to confess and retrieve it from where I had hidden it (in the back of the vanity cabinet in our upstairs bathroom).

So not only did my sister get spanked but I did too as my lesson to respect other peoples' property. There were two crying little girls in our house that day, with throbbing bottoms.



We started getting over the knee spankings when were around four years-old. Both of my parents received bare bottom spankings while they were growing up. My father hated them and decide to reserve those for the worst offenses, or when he felt he really needed to make a point. I know my mother didn't like them either when she was young; however, almost all of the spankings that I have received from my mom were with my panties pulled down. I hated them! I asked mom why she decided to bare our bottoms when daddy saved those for the really bad offenses. My mom said it was easier and she knew her spankings would be taken seriously.

Evidently, my brother who is the oldest child, got stubborn or wouldn't cry from some of her spankings when he was little. I personally can't imagine not crying as a four year-old, to any spanking. That upset my mother, so she started taking his pants down. He cried and would submit after her bare bottom spankings. Mom continued to bare bottom spank after that.


 
The first time I remember getting spanked was when I was 4; I'm sure I had been given a few smacks before then but this was the first time I was dragged upstairs to my bedroom, hauled across my mother's lap, had my knickers pulled down and was properly spanked. Fully deserved, as were the many similar occasions that followed - I had spat in my younger sister's cereal.


 
The first good, hard, over the knee, partially remembered bare bottom spanking I was five. I was alone at home with my mother, ill but obviously recovered, very bored and very likely very naughty. It is a black and white movie with no sound and even no remembrance of pain: only remembered scenes and emotions.

There had been warnings before, the tension was rising.

The first scene is one of me, confident in the couch, probably giving a very disrespectful answer.

The second scene is my mother wrestling, pulling my pants off and getting me over the knee.

The third scene is fury: beating a sick little girl, how dared she!

The fourth scene, I am howling at full force and kicking my legs as hard as I can, to no avail.

The fifth scene, I am bawling in misery, snot and tears, promising as convincing as possible I will be good. Very probably, my mother is still expertly heating my bottom.

The final scene is me, promising to be good, trying to rub the hot burn from my smarting buttocks with my both hands, standing before my mother, who is smiling gently. Yes, smiling gently! I was shocked for a lifetime. But I learned then and there that if she warned me, I'd better heed that warning.


 
When I was around the age of eight or nine my mother had established boundaries past which I was not allowed to ride my bike, for various reasons. They weren't unreasonable. One day I rode past her limit, and when I returned she asked me where I'd been. I lied, and told her that I hadn't been far. She asked me if I was being truthful and I assured her I was. She said how happy she was that I told the truth, and actually gave me a present I'd been coveting. She assured me she was not rewarding me for telling the truth, but it just seemed like a good time to give it to me. A massive black cloud of guilt enveloped me, and stayed with me for days.

A few days later my grandmother and I were alone together in our house, and I told her I had done something really bad (I wouldn't tell her what it was), and I asked her to spank me. She thought it was a game, because she'd been around when I'd been spanked and knew that it was definitely something I did NOT enjoy. I finally managed to convince her that I was serious, asking her not to tell my mom about it. She consented, pulled down my pants and put me over her knee. I was starting to cry (as usual) but still asked her to take down my underwear. She did, and spanked me. I think it was a bit half hearted, but it hurt, and I cried. When it was over my guilt had dissipated and I felt such relief it was almost physical. That was the only time in my life I ever did something like that, and basically spent the rest of my childhood and youth trying to avoid punishment at all costs. A guilty conscience can be a powerful thing.



I was never spanked on Christmas day but I do recall getting spanked when I was 12 on Christmas eve. I got into a fight with my younger sister and I was pretty much going back and forth with her most of the day. We were in our living room at the time and I forget what brought it on but I pushed my sister and she fell over the side of the sofa. My mom had just come into the room in time to witness this and she draqged me to her bedroom and spanked my bare bottom super hard with her hair brush. I had to go down and apologize to my sister and was then sent to bed while my two sisters got to stay up late. This for me was almost as bad as the spanking and I pretty much cried myself to sleep that night.



The "real" paddle started to get used when I turned eight and I got paddled right on my eighth birthday. My twin sister and me had gotten lunch boxes as one of our gifts. Mine was a soft sided purple one and my twin got a pink strawberry shaped one that was Strawberry Shortcake and I liked hers better but wouldn't admit it because it was a "baby" lunch box. I picked it up to look at it and she grabbed it back but doing so she pinched her fingers in it and said I did it on purpose and my dad was in a bad mood anyway cause I acted like a brat at the skating ring to my friends and he was like "Get upstairs, Get the paddle and get to your room! And remember young lady, get the big girl paddle." Needless to say it wasn't a happy birthday for me after that.

   

I remember getting a bare bottom hairbrush blistering when I was in the 1st or 2nd grade. School was about a mile away and the route to it went by a large pond in back of a berm. It was unfenced and in the Spring, had several sand pits that turned "quick." My Mom had visions of her little girl falling into one of them and being swallowed up by the sand so she warned me repeatedly, not to go near the pond.

One lovely Spring day I was going past the berm and I decided I'd just go up and have a quick peek. When I got there I saw not only the pond but also the top of a phone pole that had fallen down into the water. I decided I'd run out on the pole and see if I could make it dip down into the water where it had broken the ice when it fell over. It dipped nicely. I lost track of time running up and down the wet pole until I heard my Mom's voice gently calling me.

I hurriedly ran back to the shore and over to where she was standing in a willow patch cutting a long switch. Unfortunately I was wearing short pants that day and she and I started home at a very smart pace, me catching a swish about every second step. We got home and she told me to go upstairs and get undressed and ready for bed and that I was going to miss dinner that night. I made a streak and had gotten everything off but my t-shirt and one sock when she appeared with her large oval backed flat wooden hairbrush. She turned me over her knee and proceeded to wear me out, I don't know how many swats but I know I was crimson when she let me up. It worked though as I never went back to the pond.


 
My mom always said that a spanking just wasn't a spanking without real tears. I was not a brave girl, when it came to spankings, and I learned not to hold back. I was usually in tears, or at least smiffling, from the moment Iwas told I'm getting a spanking. My Mom knew me very, very, well and knew when I transitioned from "poor me" tears to the truly remorseful please, please, I'm sorry....bawling that comes from the heart. I don't think it was humanly possible not to cry during one her spankings.


 
Mine always started off with me begging for forgiveness (or more begging that I not be spanked), then begging that I not be spanked bare, which of course never worked. It then progressed to "owwws" when it started, and I was most definitely crying at the end...very real tears and very real apologizing for what I had done.

My parents definitely believed that I should be in tears by the end of my  spankings, and I certainly didn't disappoint. Just a theory (I never asked, ha ha!), but when I got to the point when I could take a spanking without crying, that's normally when the implement was upgraded, or their spankings got longer. That wicked brush and belt were plenty to keep me crying well into my teens.


 
I almost always, after realizing that my tears from knowing I was doomed to be spanked were futile, resolutely vowed not to cry when my mom or Dad would actually start to spank my bottom. But that vow always went the way of the wayside very quickly.

Mom almost always spanked with her hairbrush and I don't know if I ever made it past five swats with that horrendous thing before I started bawling. The same goes for Daddy's razor strop or belt...except in that case I pretty much cried from before it even struck till long after he stopped. For some reason it was always much worse for me being spanked by my Dad. I don't think it's because he spanked any harder than my mom or anything. Maybe it was just that I was more scared of being spanked by him. Either way I don't think I was ever spanked where I didn't end up crying my eyes out.

I don't know if it's a girl thing or not...I know my sisters (one older and one younger) were the same as me. In fact I wonder if ever a week went by that wasn't punctuated with the sobs of at least one well- spanked sister, or the three of us, filling the house.

I recall one time in particular where I was in my room with My Mom and about to get the hairbrush. Mom told me to pull down my panties and I refused. She did so again and I said "No". Mom then said "I'm not going to ask you a third time..." and I said "Good...then I'll just go downstairs then".

My Mom failed to see the humor in this. She yanked down my panties and spanked the daylights out of me and lambasting me all the while with things like "How does it feel to be a smart mouth now Jennifer?" and "Do you want to make any more sassy comments young lady? Because I'll be more than happy to show you what will happen if you do."

Oh, I wish I could say that this was the only time a scene like this played out but alas I cannot. Now with an un-sore bottom years later I can say I thought my remark was rather clever but that day I was made to feel otherwise!


 
Personally I don't think I am "naturally" modest, I've always been outgoing and active, but I was "taught" to be very modest about my body which led to some resentment concerning discipline.

My very religious family - especially mother - harped on proper attire and deportment, especially for girls, so that even accidental "flashing" of underwear was discouraged.

But the hypocrisy came during spanking time as we were most always spanked bare bottomed. Both my sister and I got spanked fairly often and frequently in front of each other and sometimes in front of other relatives.

At first it confused me - all the preaching about maintaining modesty, only to have my panties pulled down for my spankings - and later I resented the idea - that my parents considered the added "shame" of panties-down discipline as "part of the punishment."

During puberty it became extremely embarrassing to be bared and spanked, especially in front of others - as along with the "being seen" part I always ended up bawling and kicking which was it's own humiliation.

Sometimes my spankings ended with bare, red-bottomed, sobbing corner time - insult to injury.



Having my panties pulled down didn't seem like such a big deal at 8 or 9. But when I got to be about 11 I started hating having my panties pulled down. I would cry and plead to keep my panties on and tried a few times to hold onto the waistband as mom was pulling them down, only to be told that I would get a longer spanking. I was crying loudly and felt like a littler girl after having my panties pulled down and being helped over mom's knee to be spanked with her dreaded hairbrush. Once the hairbrush was felt my cryies turned to howls and promises to be good along with ow's and ouch's.

When it was over and she stood me back up, I didn't care at all about the fact my panties were down around my ankles, I just wanted to rub and sooth my just-spanked bottom.



Because I was a girl, Daddy never took down my panties when he punished me. I certainly got my skirts raised, though. Because my father was a man, this embarrassed and shamed for me in a way my mother's panties-down, bare bottom spankings in the privacy of my bedroom never did.

I'm sure Daddy never meant deliberately to humiliate me. He just wanted my chastisement to be effective - for his hand or belt to make good contact with my bottom so I would learn my lesson and behave myself. In those days, full skirts were the rule for little girls, and I was required to wear an additional petticoat or two underneath for warmth in winter and for modesty-enhancing, added fullness year round. His spankings couldn't have made a sufficient disciplinary impression on me through all that fabric.

Still, I felt humiliated, resentful and confused. My parents taught me never to let my upper thighs, much less my panties show, especially when boys or men could see. This included Daddy himself. But whenever he spanked me, up came my skirts - I had no say in the matter. And thus, for a brief while both my bare thighs and the seat of my panties lay exposed in his sight, with his undivided, punitive attention focused upon the latter.(!)

As I lay across his lap, tearfully begging him for another chance, and I felt him tuck my skirts up above my waist, my feelings of mortification at being exposed to his gaze competed with my fear of how badly my punishment was about to hurt. These emotions grew worse the older I grew. But whatever my age, once he began to administer my spanking I was aware only of crying from pain, of resisting my impulse to cover my bottom with my hand, and of praying he would stop. But afterwards, sniffling on my bed, those icky feelings of offended modesty would advance back into my consciousness while the smarting of my behind retreated.



I got spanked at bedtime several times. There are 2 specific times I can remember.

One night, I was making fun of my brother just teasing him a little bit. My brother told my dad and he grabbed me a spanked me over my nightgown like 15 times. It hurt. Worst of all he just kept spanking me until my bottom was red hot and I was in tears and crying. I held out to about 10 spanks w/o making a sound but at 15 spanks I couldn't take it anymore. I always tried to hold out and avoid making a sound during a spanking. It worked for my mom but my dad would just keep spanking me until I did cry. I slept with a hot, stinging bottom that night.

My brother felt so sorry for me that he recanted his accusation. I was so mad at my dad that we didn't talk for a couple of days. My dad hated the silent treatment and would try to get out of it by being extra nice. I was so stubborn that I usually would give him the cold shoulder/silent treatment for a couple of days if I was really mad at him and there was nothing he could do to change that. Once, I was mad at my dad and I told him I wouldn't talk to him again for 100 years. He got so mad that he immediately smacked me in the head. The silent treatment pushed his buttons sometimes.

Another time my brother and I were supposed to be in bed. Instead we were just fooling around and making noise. My mom finally had enough. She came into our bedroom and held me down first and spanked me about 5 times. Then she went after my brother. I had a "weapon" I had made out of tinker toys. It was basically a stick with about 10 wheels on it and a removable wooden cap in each end that held the wheels on. Once I removed one of the caps the wheels could easily slide off the stick. I removed one of the wooden caps and flung the stick at her as hard as I could. The wheels went all over the place and some of them hit my mom. The effect was pretty lackluster. My weapon didn't quite have the punch I intended. After she was done with my brother, mom gave me second spanking of about 10 spanks this time. I asked my brother if my "weapon" helped and he said "Nah, it didn't work at all." That was the last time I tried using that "weapon" to avoid a spanking. It was more like a weapon to promote a harder spanking.



I guess 8 or maybe 9yrs old. We were having a family (relatives from both sides of the family) BBQ in the summer. We had a pool growing up in the backyard. Anyway on this day my younger cousin Kelli was being a total brat and I had complained to both my mother and my aunt (Kelli's mother) about her behaviour...I was told ' Lori..you are 4yrs older...act your age' still not sure what meant to this day. Anyway As I was coming down the slide into the pool Kelli jumped up onto the slide and blocked my way from hitting the water....I kicked her...hard...I meant for her bum but somehow kicked her in the face which then caused a bloody nose and her screaming. Both my aunt and my mother saw it all. However her behaviour was ignored and instead I found myself dragged out of the pool and was then smacked twice on my wet bathing suits backside with the order to 'GET UPSTAIRS NOW MISSY' once upstairs (with the bedroom window wide open and facing the backyeard with the pool) I soon found myself (and my now bare backside) over my mothers lap where in between a lecture about how immature I was she proceeded to turn my little bum a solid pink. The entire family cousins and all got to hear both her lecture, the sound of my backside get tanned and my cries, pleas and promises to be good. After I was spanked I was then told to put my suit back on and head back outside to entertain. Within two minutes of being outside my sister announced to all of my cousins ' Look you can still see mommy's hand print on Lori's bum'


 
Once when I was around ten I was in the den watching TV with my younger sister who could have won an Academy Award for her acting skills and I was making her mad and she decided to get me in trouble. Mom had already come by a couple of times and told us we needed to play nice and get along.

Well, I was teasing my sister and she kept telling me to quit and that if I didn't I was going to be spanked. I laughed at her and kept it up. Then all of a sudden Laura yells out OWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! and Mom came running in asking what happened. Laura then says "Jenny punched me in the stomach!" Meanwhile I am vehemently denying having done this because I most certainly did no such thing.

Mom then says "I've had it with you Jennifer...You are never to hit your sister and I told you to be nice and you didn't listen so now you're getting spanked!" I started yelling and calling my sister a liar and that I didn't do anything. She replied with "You're two years older than her and you've been going at her all morning so you certainly have done way too much now get up those stairs". I refused to go. It was like one of those protest rallys you see on TV where the people need to be carried off by the police because Mom had to yank me off the couch and she pulled me by the ear which then got me moving pretty quickly.

I got my butt slapped all the way up the stairs with admonitions such as "When I tell you to do something you are to do it! You'll see what refusing to obey gets you." and "You're going to regret talking to me in that tone of voice young lady!". Still I was pleading and saying I didn't hit her and that she made it up but my Mom did not believe me. I think at some point my spanking had switched from being about what I may have done to Laura to disobeying and yelling at my Mom. She brought me to her room and made me pull down my pants. I was crying so hard and saying "Please Mom! I didn't hit Laura, she just wanted to get me in trouble...I'll be good I'll even go to my room...I'll leave her alone and just play by myself....Please don't spank me!" This was met with "Jennifer Lyn...You get those pants and panties down this instant. Not ten seconds ago I told you to do what you're told when you're told and hear you go again...now I'm going to count to three..."

I had no choice. I had to bare my bottom and bend over her knee and she spanked me so hard because I put up such a fight. I got sent to my room afterward and just cried and cried. I couldn't even retaliate against my sister because then I'd get spanked again. I wanted to run downstairs and beat her up!

Later Laura opened my door and said "Ha ha! I told you I'd get you spanked!" and then ran away before I could do anything.

I hated her for that. I would be nice to her around my Mom but when we were alone I wouldn't talk to her or I'd call her a vicious little liar and swore I'd get her back.

I would often tattle on my sisters for stuff knowing and maybe even hoping they'd get spanked but I never made up a lie about anything to get them spanked!

This is what led to my throwing away my sister's favorite stuffed animal. I waited several weeks so the suspicion would not be centered on me. Now thinking back on it I should not have done that but then I was glad to and I think she got off much lighter than I did. Losing a stupid stuffed tiger doesn't hurt...getting your butt blistered by your Mom and not having her believe you does!



I actually had a unique experience in that my mother, who primarily raised me alone after my parents divorced, did not believe in spanking. However, when I was 11, she started dating my future stepdad and agreed that I would be punished the same way his two children were, with thorough bare-bottomed belt spankings.

I can still remember the 1st time, I think I had spoken back to my mom or something and was sent to my room. I thought I was simply going to be grounded or something like that but was in for quite a shock when I was informed as to what my new reality was going to be. The sight of my stepdad removing that belt from around his waist and my fear that it would soon be whipping my behind was intense. I remember that I started bawling right away promising to be good and thinking I was having some terrible dream. Before long though I was ordered to bare my behind, bend over the edge of my bed, and keep my hands on my comforter.

I thought that he would feel bad for me since I had never even been hand-spanked before but being that he already thought I was spoiled and blamed my lack of spanking for it, he laid it on me and hard. His first lash was incredible. I honestly thought I had some idea as to what his belt would feel like but the pain was incredible. I was screaming and bawling from his very 1st stroke. I'd say he gave me a solid 20 or so all over my bottom and my upper thighs.

My hope was that this would be a rare occurrence but my parents from then on both believed in having a strict well-spanked household.



I was 12 yrs old and feeling rather "grown up" - except when my mother found reason to hand and/or spoon spank my bare bottom. Father rarely spanked for real, usually just a look from Dad did the trick - aside from a few HARD hand swats on my skirt or jeans.

But at 12 I got "way too sassy" for my mother and came the day she announced I had to "wait until your father gets home."

I remember feeling hopeful, maybe I was "too big" for mom to spank me anymore? And I could maybe get away with a lecture or grounding from Dad?

Sadly, I ended up pulling down my pants and panties while Dad took his belt off! I had NO idea how much his belt could hurt but I was scared enough to plead for "one more chance please not with THAT!"
But Father was determined to teach me to "mind/respect your mother...or else" as he scolded while doubling his evil leather belt.

Daddy draped me over his lap with ease and OMG! those first few slow, hard belt licks caught me by surprise.
OWW OWWW I yelped, shocked and amazed at the SHARP STING of his belt across my bare bottom.
Each WHACK felt like his belt was taking a bite out of my bare skin and quickly I was wiggling like mad, screeching NO STOP PLEASE STOPPP" only to be held down tightly for more and more searing straps.

My buns felt swollen with firecracker hot burning and I burst into high pitched squeals and babbling  loud enough I'm sure the neighbors could hear.

I got about 25 licks, enough to leave me howling and dancing and ready to "respect mom" AND take any spanking she wanted to give me if it saved me from Daddy's belt!


   
I had sort of forgotten the times I (and my sisters) would be spanked after church for misbehaving. We girls were supposed to be silent during mass (except when the congregation was to speak) and often one of us would be fidgeting and making the others giggle with making faces and eye rolling and the like.

My parents, and especially my Dad, did not take kindly to this and there were times when he'd lean over and whisper "You are getting your butt whipped just as soon as we get home Jennifer and if you keep this up it'll be even worse". My face would turn crimson because I was sure the folks in the pew in front and behind would have heard me being sentenced to a spanking and to me that was close to being as bad as the spanking itself.

He was always, always true to his word and the second we walked in our door he'd calmly say "March up those stairs...you and I have some business to take care of" and we'd stop at the bathroom, retrieve his razor strop and I'd be one very, very sorry girl!

There were times when one or the other of my sisters got spanked that made me very happy. Usually if it was for something they had done to me or if the sister who got spanked and I were on the outs with each other at the time. We were almost always sent to our rooms after being spanked (unless of course we were already In our room when we were spanked...in which case we were told to stay there until told we could come out) to "think about what we had done and what we were going to do to make sure we didn't do it again". Often I would go to my sister's rooms and open the door and say "Ha ha! you got spanked!" and then run away before I got caught taunting them. They would often do the same.

Other times it was unbearable knowing one of them was being spanked and hearing it because we were all alike...the pleading, the sobbing, the shrieks. I would cringe hearing my Mom or Dad saying the dreaded "Pull down your pants young lady!" and often followed by "If you don't get them down by the time I count to three it'll be even worse" and the "Bend over my knee!". The sound of the hairbrush or the belt smacking their bottoms made me jump and remember every time that sound was caused by contact with my own bare bottom.

Finally, there were many times when I was not happy to hear one of my sisters getting spanked because my Mom or Dad had either just finished spanking me first or I was next in line to be on the receiving end.



My sister Karen was 10. She was getting ready to start 5th grade, and I took her to meet her new teacher who lived a street over from us. We hung out at her house for a couple of hours not paying attention to the time. When we got home it was dark and mom was standing in the kitchen waiting for us with a flyswatter in her hand. Also our dinner was on the table and cold.
Mom imediately started on us, "Where have you two been, why didn't you call" etc... After our initial scolding was over, she ordered my sister to pull her pants down and lay across the chair she had pulled away from the table. My sister dropped her pants and panties and stood crying. Mom told her "I'm gonna give you something to cry about young lady, now get across the chair"! Karen lay sobbing across the chair then mom pulled up her shirt and started swatting her bare bottom with the flyswatter. Karen kicked and bawled, crying she was sorry and wouldn't do it anymore. She literally kicked her pants and panties off while she was being spanked.
I was totally transfixed watching as that red flyswatter made my sister's chubby bottom redder with each smack. I also started shaking knowing I was gonna get it next. Mom finally stopped and let her up. Karen stood up, naked from her waist down rubbing her butt and crying. Mom made her stand against the wall so she could witness my spanking and then pointed the swatter at me and told me to pull my pants down and bend over. I don't know what possesed be to do it, but all I pulled down was my jeans, letting them drop to the floor. Then looked at her defiantly. My mom got even more angry then she already had been, grabbed me, pushed me over the chair. Then she started blistering me with the flyswatter in my underwear. I kicked and yelled as my underwear offered me no protection from the flyswatter.
After wearing me out, she dragged me up by my collar with me holding my butt and eyes tearing up. She got in my face almost nose to nose and told me. "When I tell you to pull down your pants. I want to see your bare ass! Now drop 'em!" I slowly pulled my underwear down letting them drop and at her instruction, lay across the chair. She began my spanking again. As I hollered and kicked, I had tears streaming down my face and was yelling, no! Stop! I'm sorry, and so forth. After what seemed like forever, she finally let me up, and told my sister and I to pull up our pants. After taking a few in our bedrooms to compose ourselves as much as possible, Karen and I sat down with some difficulty to eat our cold dinners.



When my sister was ten and I was nine we shared a room and would often fight and have disagreements. One day we hadn't been getting along, and I was quite annoyed with her. That evening before bedtime she got into an argument with our parents and said something nasty. They were really angry, and right away my dad grabbed her and put her over his knee. She received a bare bottom spanking and was crying and making a fuss afterwards. I wasn't in the room, but I watched the entire scene take place from the top of the stairwell. A couple days later, I smugly mentioned to her that I'd witnessed the event. She was angry and embarrassed that the punishment she thought was private had been viewed by her younger sister.

Even just hearing about a spanking could be a delight. When I was twelve, there was a girl, Faye, with whom I shared several mutual friends but personally couldn't stand. She was mean to me for no apparent reason. One night I was at my church group with our friends when Faye arrived with a friend who had been staying at her house. Right when they saw us, her friend eagerly started telling the group about a spanking that Faye had received earlier that day. Faye laughed nervously and glanced at me, completely embarrassed, while several of our friends teased her. I tried to be polite and hide my smirk, but I was definitely amused. Knowing that my enemy still got her bottom spanked when I hadn't in nearly four years actually made me feel better that she was.



I always liked it when my sister or brother were being spanked. I would sit in the living room and pretend to be watching TV after hearing the spanking announced. I would sit there and listen as brother or sister pleaded all the way down the hall to not get spanked. The door to their room would close. There would be quiet as their pants were pulled down and than mom or dad would lecture them on their misbehavior after which came the words "Get across my knees." There were usually a few words of promise to be good and please don't spank me and than the sounds of the hairbrush as the spanking started. Shortly thereafter came the howls and crying. When it was over there was quiet while they were helped up, she spanking dance was held and then their pants were pulled up. There were hugs and mom or dad left the room and the hairbrush was put away until next time.
There sat I smuggly feeling happy that it was not I that felt the hairbrush.

When I was in jr.high at a slumber party, I found out that all 6 of us girls,had been spanked at least once. We talked and found out that 5 of us still got spanked, at least once in the last year. My self getting the hairbrush panties down sometimes.

We talked long enough to find out how each of us got spanked,and about how often. I and my best friend got it more often than the others.When "the worst" spanking stories came up,I was pleased to find out that the girl I did not get along with quite as well as the others,got her worst after she got caught smoking.

Then a couple of weeks later we tried the smoking thing are selves at school, and almost got caught. We got out of the locker room just in time. The teacher knew what had just been going on, but after "eyeing" the whole group over,did not see any one that looked guilty. I don't know why she just blew it off,but she did.

I for some reason saw a great chance to get even with "that" girl. I knew if her parents quizzed her,she would get caught. So I left a note in the in box at school, that she was the one. It worked the next day on the bus I found out she got it. Bare with the hairbrush, a NEW worst ever.



My mom used to babysit our neighbor's daughter who was about 7, and she was a BRAT! My mom and our neighbor were just having coffee one evening and us kids were playing in our basement. I remember the girl had gotten several warnings about her behavior, and she wasn't listening which was totally common for her. I remember we all came up to the dining room table for something or another, and the brat slapped my sister right in front of both of our parents. I remember her mom getting up, grabbing her daughter by her arm and marching her directly to the bathroom which was just around the corner from our dining room.

I knew she was gonna get a spanking, but I distinctly remember being shocked when through her screams and her mother's scolding the unmistakable sound of a bare hand spanking a bare butt. I remember us kids stopping dead in our tracks and looking at my mom who just had this little smirk on her face with her arms folded, just saying aloud "it's about time!" My mom wouldn't spank anyone else's kids, and she used to tell that lady that she spanked us, and that she really thought that lady should start spanking that girl. I don't know if it ever continued for that girl from that night on, but I will never forget that due to the fact of how deserved her bare bottom spanking was and how happy I was that she got it.

   

I must admit, as a kid and even as an adult I have been fascinated with witnessing or overhearing spankings. If I were actually witnessing one, particularly when given on the bare bottom, I would not be able to look away. Or if I heard the unmistakible sound of a bare bottom being spanked I would stop what I was doing and listen. There are times when I would witness someone getting a spanking when I felt they really deserved it I had a guilty fascination. The only time I ever derived any real satisfaction without guilt was when I saw a girl who had gotten me in trouble (and she witnessed my own bare bottom spanking) getting a spanking of her own. I was coming home from a friend's house and happened to take a shortcut along their carport. I overheard her mother fussing at her about "knowing better than to wear a wet swimsuit in the house and sitting on the furniture". Then I heard her say "take it off now and get over my knee." I couldn't resist, I snuck over to the window and trying to see, and there she was, over her mother's knee completely undressed with her swimsuit on the floor, and laying across her mother's lap. I smiled from ear to ear, remembering her getting me a spanking and laughing about it just a few weeks before, while I watched her mother burn her bare bottom with her hand. She kicked, screamed and cried with every smack. When her mother let her up she jumped up and down, bawling and holding her very red behind. I took off running for home, before I got caught. I thought about teasing her about it like she did me when she saw me get spanked. But I figured that would just get me in trouble.



I had one friend in particular who would always lie about things. If there was some trouble she caused, the blame was always shifted to me or someone else. I don't know that she was particularly out to get anyone punished, just for the sake of having them punished. I think she was simply out to protect herself.

I remember one time in particular, we were at her house. Her parents' workout room was absolutely 100% off-limits to us, because of all their expensive gym equipment I guess. There were weights, and a treadmill, trampoline, etc.

Well their main TV wasn't working, so she had told me that we had permission to go into their workout room and watch TV. It made perfect sense to me at the time. While we were sitting there watching, she started jumping on the trampoline. Her foot got stuck between the springs, and she fell into the wall putting a huge hole in the wall with her shoulder.

I didn't think much of it (except that she was going to be in some trouble) and went home later for dinner. During dinner, we got a phone call from her Mom, saying how I HAD PUT A HOLE IN THE WALL from jumping on their trampoline. Of course, she told her Mom that I had done it.

Though I explained that it was not me, I was spanked and spanked quite well. I still remember my spanking quite vividly to this day, since it was one of the very few where I was given the number of strokes in advance and was required to count them. 20 swats for disobeying her Mom and another 20 for lying and for other "general misbehavior lately", with the added warning that I should be getting it in front of her Mom, but they didn't feel the daughter deserved to hear or see my strapping, since she was partially at fault. I was certainly thankful for that. It was about 10 more swats than what I would normally get for a pretty severe spanking for me at that age, but I guess they wanted to prove a point.

Almost immmediately afterward, I was marched over to their house, still quite teary eyed, was forced to apologize, and help her and my Dad repair their wall. My butt was absolutely sizzled. My friend was simply grounded for 2 weeks for going into the room.

To make a long story short, during that friend's grounding several months later (for something completely different), I had learned from a mutual friend that they were planning on going down to the creek after school. I said I couldn't go, because I feared being punished. Everyone was well aware of the spankings I got for visiting the creek. We all got them. Firstly, the dreaded creek was purely off-limits, and secondly, my friend was grounded. Made for an extra bonus.

I rode my bike to the creek area, Polaroid camera in hand (digital camera?? Yeah...they weren't even thought of yet, ha ha!), and took pictures of their bicycles down in the creek. They were nowhere to be seen, but the unmistakable white and purple bike with stupid little tassles hanging off the handles were clearly visible. Put the picture right in my friend's mailbox so her Mom would see it when she got home from work and checked their mail.

The next day, I discovered from the two friends talking on the bus, that she had been given "the wooden spooning of her life" and had a hard time sitting down on the hard bus seats. Unfortunately, my other friend ended up being spanked as well, for going down to the creek. I guess their two moms had spoken. I certainly hadn't intended for that to happen to her, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity.



I wasn't made to wait very long. All my spankings from my mother were given pretty much immediately - or at least immediately after telling me I was getting spanked. I'm not sure she even always announced it, just picked me up and put me over her lap. She always spanked my bare bottom and would pull down my panties while I was over her lap. The worst part was her resting her palm on my bottom while she scolded. It was never more than a sentence or two but as I was little at the time (she died when I was 7) it felt like forever.

Daddy spanked me on the spot until I got to be older. Since I was an only child it wasn't a big deal as there wasn't anyone else to see. As I got older, he started sending me to my room first though he followed me up. The worst with Daddy was the rare times he used the hairbrush and seeing it in his hand made my tummy sink.



I was 11. I had been 11 for two whole days.  And at the back of our uncle's property was an old shed.  My aunt kept old flower pots in there and some top soil, but besides that it wasn't used. There was a water faucet that worked, so I decided it would be cool to play "fire girl" with the old shed. I got the hose from their house and a gas can from their new shed, and some matches from their kitchen. Long story short, an 11 year old girl with a garden hose can not put out a shed that is on fire.

After my uncle and my Dad put out the fire, which mostly burned itself out, Dad took me to their family room and really spanked me, with his hand and his belt.  And I knew even then that every single swat that landed on my behind I totally deserved.



I got caught stealing at the local drug store. Oddly enough just after I got caught and the store owner was talking to me a member of the local police department came into the store. Overhearing the conversation the officer asked the owner if there was a problem, to which he replied he had caught me stealing and was about to send me home. The officer replied that he'd be glad to take me. I was given a ride home in the police cruiser and the officer informed my mom about what had happened. He told mom there were no formal charges, but that the store owner thought I should be taken home.

Mom was embarrassed out of her mind. She apologized to the officer, called the store and apologized to the owner and called dad at work and told him. They talked for a few moments and she said to him "yes I was planning to." She hung up the phone, turned to me and said "You're getting a spanking and your father says to make it a good one." With that mom took my arm and led me to our den. She left me there and went to find her hairbrush.

She came into the room, pulled the desk chair out and sat down on it. She pulled me over in front of her and in one quick motion pulled my pants and panties down.  She told me to get over her knees. I cried and promised never to do it again and pleaded not to get a spanking. She again told me to get over her knees, bawling and pleading I slowly went over her knees, she positioned me a little, her hairbrush did it's work. When it was over I was let up and ran from the room to my room, pants and panties around my ankles. I threw myself over my bed and cried amd cried.

Later when dad came home the 3 of us sat and had a talk and I promised never to steal again.



One that comes to mind was when my Mom forbade me to go over to one of my friends' house because she did not approve of her. I waited a bit and then said I was going to the Library to get a book for school. I did go there and get the book but was in and out in no time. I then made a beeline to my friend's house and was only there for around 20 minutes when her mom said "Jenny, your mother is on the phone and would like to speak with you."

My heart started pounding in my chest and I knew I was in deep trouble. I picked up their phone and acted all cheery so my friend and her mom would not know anything was wrong. My Mom told me I had "five minutes to get your bottom back to the house" and then hung up on me. I talked for another 30 seconds into a dead phone saying things like "Oh, yeah...I forgot. OK Mom, I'll be right over then...Love you...bye" and then told my friend I forgot we had to go out and I had to run.

I had my bike and my friend lived close by but I wished she lived miles away since I knew my Mom's hairbrush awaited me when I got home.

She met me at our door and marched me to the bathroom where I had my mouth soaped for lying. Then I got my bottom positively blistered with her hairbrush and was made to stay in my room till dinner. I was told to come down in my pajamas since I'd be going to bed right after dinner too.

So 20 minutes of disobedience earned me hours of pain and suffering. It was not worth it!

This was not the only time I got spanked for hanging out with this friend. She was always getting in trouble and me with her so that's why I was forbidden to play with her in the first place.

I remember another time when my younger sister tattled on me for playing with her and I got the hairbrush for disobeying my Mom again. I then punched my sister later for telling on me so I got the razor strap from my Dad. This was the next day and my butt was already sore so it was even worse than usual because Dad's spankings were horrible but to be whipped on an already sore bottom was unbearable. I got the "You might want to be on your very best behavior from now on unless you want to find yourself in this position again tomorrow, Jennifer!".

I was "nice" to my sister in front of my parents but otherwise did not talk to her for a few days after that.



From the ages of 11 to 14 were the years where I was uncertain whether or not I would get spanked. In today's world there is no doubt that 14, hell even 11, would be considered too old to be spanked. But in 1981 when I was 13 it was, I guess, borderline...

In my situation the last spanking I received was when I was 1 week past my 13th birthday.  I was caught swimming (actually skinny dipping) with a group of girls in a quarry we were forbidden to go to because of the danger there. I came home and walked in our front door and was met by my father who wanted to know why I decided to go swimming in a place that was forbidden. Before I could answer I was over his lap with my backside bared for my whole family to see and got one of the hardest spankings I had ever received. After a few smacks I was already in tears and promising to be good.  Although it was my last spanking I received there were a few more times where the outcome was up for debate.



When I was little, when it came to my spankings, "good" meant "bad," meaning "hard." Why "good" should have this odd meaning never made sense to me. But I didn't feel comfortable asking my mother about this.

But once when a little friend and I accompanied our mothers on a shopping trip, my friend kept behaving sullenly and mouthy to her mother - sassier than I would have dared act with my own mother. When my friend's mother's patience began to wear thin she warned her daughter, "Young lady, I ought to give you a good spanking right here in the store in front of God and everybody!"

Then my friend fired back with the question I had never dared ask my own mother aloud, (although I had certainly thought it): "What's so 'good' about a spanking??" I held my breath, afraid my friend's mother really would spank her right then and there, but nothing happened.

So my mother answered in my friend's mother's stead, telling my friend, "What's 'good' is how YOU will BEHAVE... AFTER you've been spanked!" Both our mothers laughed and tension dissipated. My friend didn't get a spanking that afternoon that I can remember, but I'm pretty sure she also didn't sass her mother so much for the remainder of our errands either.



I usually cried that I was "sorry" repeatedly before each of my spankings. But usually I was really just "sorry" I'd gotten into trouble, "sorry" I was about to be spanked, and hoping if I said "sorry" enough times maybe my mother or father would be just a little less severe with me than otherwise.

But in a minority of cases, my behavior had broken something or hurt someone, and I really did feel stricken with remorse. Now that I think back, those were occasions when I may not have said "sorry" again and again during the moments leading up to my chastisement. I just felt too crushed inside and too overwhelmed by events.

Those spankings when I genuinely felt sorry didn't serve any sound disciplinary purpose I can see. They just made me feel like a horrid, unlovable little girl. But my parents, my father especially, believed that no matter how sorry I felt, I still needed to pay for my childish sin.



If I got a really bad spanking I'd end up on our floor. By the end of it the only thing keeping me off the ground was Mum or Dad holding my arms, and when they'd finished smacking me they'd just let me drop to the floor and roll around kicking and screaming. I usually ended up kicking off my panties then too. Nothing concerned me except my burning bottom
.
I remember once after I'd finished yelling, I was still so upset by my spanking that I didn't even realise I was still bare-bottomed while I was lying on the kitchen floor, sobbing into my sleeve for a good ten or twenty minutes.

My bottom was lined with dark welts in rough, partial outlines of the wooden spoon where my bottom hurt the most. I never saw any trace of the spoon handle, but I could see slightly darker, puffy spoon shapes in amongst a larger area of splotched red covering the middle of each cheek with a few, smaller 'off-target' splotches of lighter red spread over the rest of my bottom and on my thighs.



When my sister and I got spanked together we were stripped to our knickers and vest and sent to wait in the front room corners. When mum was ready she would stand us in front of her,make us put our hands on our heads, pull our knickers down and start lecturing us. It seemed like for ever she would talk, especially as we were standing there half naked, hands on head and although we didn't want the inevitable spanking that was for sure coming my sister and I just wanted to get it over with.

Eventualy she wold finish our scolding and then ask OK whose first, then before we could even answer she would say Trish get over my knee. Then a good hard spanking would start and continue until tears flowed.
After she had finished with either me or my sister that one would be dispatched to the corner and the other one would be dealt with in the same way.

After we were both put in the corner sore and crying for what seemed like ages but was probably 10 mins then we were sent straight to bed no matter what time it was.

One Sunday we were spanked and put to bed at 3 in the afternoon and had to stay there till morning. Our mum was very strict and would stand no nonsense.



When I had been very naughty, my father, when he came home, even before he had hung his jacket in the locker room, was greeted with the words, “your daughter should tell you something.”

I had to explain why I deserved a punishment. I never lied, my mother was watching that I told the truth and nothing but the truth.

Then we went to the kitchen, where I already knew what would follow. With an irritated sigh, my father went to the kitchen, and took from the drawer the wooden spoon. I bent over a kitchen chair, my dad pulled away my skirt and I got a few stinging strokes against my panties, not more than four. They hurt, but not so badly.

A few times, I got severely punished, "on my bare.".It was a frequent threat, but fortunately it happened rarely. I had been very bad (lying, cheating, taking money or sweets), my mother was upset, my dad got in a real bad mood. That was much, much worse. The spoon swung a lot harder against my bare bottom, and many more times, till my dad found that I had been punished properly. That did a lot more pain.

Nevertheless, I was a loved child and had a - for the 50's and 60's - normal and happy childhood.



Corporal punishment wasn’t frequent in our family - maybe a couple of times a year till it stopped at the age of 12/13. My sister (two years my junior) got at least the number I got. She was a tomboy and would climb trees and play football (soccer) though always wearing skirts.

We were a team – we against them (parents) and never told on each other – at least not in serious matters. Though spankings were relatively rare the awful experience exercised our minds. Father’s spanking stick hung visibly in our wardrobe and we always hoped that it would be our lenient Mother next time or at least be over underwear and NOT on our thighs. Wishes were never fulfilled. We got it together if we misbehaved together and if one of us got it without the other being in the house he or she would share information.

My sister volunteered when we discussed how much protection underwear would provide and bent over the chair while I got Father’s stick out of his wardrobe. However, the guinea pig – aged about 10 jumped off the chair and the experiment after 2-3 very realistic whacks on her knickers. We compared “damages” when Father had organised two switches and he dealt with my sister while I got Mother. The inequitable discrimination upset my sister and we compared our clearly visible tramlines afterwards.

Father disapproved of Mother’s leniency and not doing her share of discipline, so one day a second stick appeared next to his. It was shorter and thicker and evidently a handy ladies’ implement meant for Mother. We compared the two after bedtime when our parents had gone to the cinema’s late show. In turn we lowered our pyjamas  just enough to reveal the target and bent over the spanking chair and each of us took a realistic whack from either sticks. I don’t remember if we reached a conclusion as to which was worse.



At about the age of ten I had gone probably nearly two years where my behavior was generally good, and I earned no spanking. But as summer break started just a month or two after tenth birthday, my parents sat me down and told me my behavior was deteriorating, and that it seemed several recent groundings had not worked to correct my behavior. They told me that I had better start paying more attention to my own behavior, because they decided together that the next time my behavior needed punishment, I would get an "old fashioned spanking." That warning did not come with a definition.

However, I recall vividly a few weeks later, I missed dinner time (a big no-no in our house) by a half hour because I was with some friends. When I got home, my dad sent me straight to my room. About ten minutes later, he came in, clutching what looked like a new, slightly bigger paddle than the one used before I was nine. He pulled up my chair from my desk, and lectured me. His lecture included a reminder that I was going to get an old fashioned spanking.

My dad basically told me that before then, all of my spankings were pretty tame, and that an "old fashioned spanking" was a spanking like kids used to get all the time when he and my mom were growing up.

He went on to add that he thought I was nearing an age when I was old enough to know right from wrong, and from now on if I needed a spanking, ALL of my spankings would be "good old fashioned spankings." Finally, just after my pants came down and I bent over his knees, my dad got a good hold on me.

That was without a doubt my worst spanking of my life up to that point. I still managed to earn about five or six more "good old fashioned spankings" (about two per year until I was about twelve).



When I was nine, my sixteen year old sister was babysitting me. Even though I knew our parents had given her permission to spank me, I thought I could do whatever I wanted with her in charge. I was sitting on the floor playing and my sister told me to help her with the dishes. After I ignored her command three times, she dragged me over to our couch and pulled up my skirt as I pleaded with her to not punish me. She then pulled down my panties and gave my bare bottom over thirty smacks with her firm hand. I never disobeyed my sister again.



If I was spanked at home it would be: "go get ready for a spanking" which meant I was to bare my backside and perch myself over the arm of our overstuffed couch and wait for mom to come and administer my spanking. Sometimes if that wasn't convenient she would take her paddle to my bare thigh while I stood beside her with my hands on my head. These spankings on my bare thigh hurt a lot. Anyone could see I had been spanked because the marks took most of the day to fade and I was mostly in dresses or summer attire when my legs were spanked. If we were not at home mom would find the most appropriate place and administer my spanking--these were always harder than the ones at home. Mom did not like me to misbehave in public and if I did she would discipline me in public.

There were times when our station wagon was pulled over and I was none too gently escorted to the side of some rural road and spanked with the hairbrush that was in my mother's purse (for brushing hair). These spankings were different from her painful swats at home. For one thing her brush was a flat back plastic one and Mom was usually very fed up with me. Her swats were harder and my spanking much longer. By the time I was back in my seatbelt I was hiccup crying with very sore buttocks and legs. I would be instructed to put my hands in my lap and not utter a word for the rest of our trip. I remember how much the sting lingered because I didn't dare move my hands to rub the sting out and there was no time between my spanking and being put back into our car. I knew if I moved my hands an inch our car would be pulled over a second time and I would be spanked worse. We lived in a small town and even in town getting spanked along the side of the road was not a huge public affair.

I only remember fighting a spanking once. I was very young. I remember being over the knee of my mother and  I kept reaching back and squirming so my mother grabbed both of my wrists and spanked me for a very long time until I quit resisting. I remember I had kicked off my red shorts and panties and my bottom and my thighs really hurt. All my spankings after that I remember doing exactly as I was instructed.



When I was 12, I made the very bad mistake of calling my mom the "b" word when she pestered me about my homework after dinner. As soon as it was out of my mouth I wished I could take it back, but knew I couldn't. My mom got very upset and ran in her bedroom. I lived with my mom and aunt, and my aunt was basically my full time babysitter who gave me all my spankings. My aunt wasn't home when I said it, so I went to bed early pretending to go to sleep, but knowing I was probably in for it. As soon as my Aunt got home, I heard her and my mom speaking to each other in hushed tones, and then my aunt walking quickly to my room. She pulled down my cover said "how could you!" to me, pulled down my pj bottoms, over her lap with more spanks from her hairbrush than ever before. But she wasn't done. I then stood in front of her and she grabbed my chin. I was a blubbering mess but she made me promise I would never speak to my mom that way again and then she pulled me over her lap again and gave me at least another 10 sharp smacks with her brush. It was my most painful spanking I ever, but I never called my mom that word again.

   

Before age ten or so i was spanked alot. Almost always on bare skin. In the summer my shorts or sundresses were short enough my legs would take the spanking But many many times it was over the couch arm waiting-waiting-waiting with my bare behind ready for the paddle. I think the dread was much of the punishment. My mom would say "spankings should hurt" and they did- they were awful. Marks never lasted for more than a few hours. I really hated when I was spanked on my legs with shorts or a dress so everyone knew.



Our paddle ball paddle was made of transparent orange plastic and it had a decal on it with the cutest little teddy bear you ever did see. He was wearing a cute little baseball cap sideways and playing with his own paddle ball and the decal said "Welcome to Branson". The plastic was heavier than wood and it absolutely set your bottom on fire when mom swatted your panties with it. And God help you if she pulled your panties down! My sister and I used to talk about getting bitten by Spanking Bear. It was never used for paddle ball. Dad bought it on vacation in Branson, tore the rubber band off and handed it to mom.  Spanking Bear helped mom teach us a lot of lessons.



More than once this happened to me. I'd be so angry at having been sent to my room that I'd slam my door and more often than not I'd hear Mom's stomping tread on the stairs and she'd burst into my room and spank me silly. She would start by spanking me over my pants or skirt and then yank me over her knee and really let me have it with her hairbrush on my bare bottom.

One would think that having this happen once would dissuade me from repeating this behavior but not so. If memory serves there were at least a dozen times where this scenario played out. On top of being spanked I'd then have to stay longer in my room or get additional punishment such as being sent to bed after supper or being grounded or losing TV privileges or something.

I can remember one of my fiercest hairbrush spankings I ever got from my Mom was from me slamming my door. I was sent to my room for something that I thought was unjust and slammed my door repeatedly. She stormed into my room from downstairs, grabbed me and started smacking my bottom where I stood. She then pulled me to my bed, yanked down my shorts and panties and positively blistered my bottom.

I ended up being sent to bed after dinner that night and grounded for the weekend as well. My Dad also told me off that night when he got home but fortunately my Mom said I had been "spanked enough" so I was spared an additional spanking from him as well.

And to think...if I just went meekly when first sent there I would have been able to stay up that night and play with my friends that weekend.

Sadly, that was not the only time I was spanked for slamming my door. I was also punished for pounding on my walls and drumming my feet on the floor after having been sent to my room.

There were more than enough occasions where I knew I had erred or disobeyed and merited a spanking but more often than not it was my anger that got me spanked in the first place. More so with my Mom for I was far more apt to smart off to her than I was to my Dad and as I grew older and my vocabulary broadened I would end up getting my mouth soaped frequently along with having my butt spanked because I would have been sent to my room and in lieu of going quietly I'd stomp up the stairs cursing only to have my Mom follow saying "What did I just hear you say?!" and dragging me into the bathroom to soap my mouth and then spank me.

I probably got spanked most often for backtalk to my Mom than for any other transgression.

In looking back I was quite disrespectful and it's a wonder my Mom didn't hold my head under water till the bubbles stopped coming up!!!

Yes, one would think in light of how hard my Mom spanked that I would have learned my lesson and been a good girl but I had a short memory and would soon find myself doing the same thing that had recently gotten me spanked not long before. I forget who said it or the exact wording but the quote comes to mind "The definition of madness is repeating the same behavior over and over and expecting a different result" or words to that effect. That definitely held true for me.




My mother hated slamming doors and it usually ended in a spanking for the offender. My sister Marisa was the worst. When she got sent to her room she would stomp up the stairs & down the hallway to her room then slam her door as hard as she could.

Mom would always shout from the bottom of the stairs "Marisa Anne come down here right now!" That was often followed by "if I have to come up there you are really going to get it!". I should mention that she usually had her paddle or wood spoon in her hand by this time.

It sometimes took a few shouts to get Marisa to finally come down, usually very contrite & begging not to be spanked. Her begging didn't work and Marisa would get her butt smoked & then told to walk back up the stairs quietly and then quietly close her door. Marisa always did as she was told after a spanking. She was stubborn though, & had a temper. I think we all did that at one time or another but Marisa was the biggest offender. What's funny though is she hates it when her kids slam doors too.



Once we were at a water park, I think I was 7-8, I accidentally splashed another little girl, maybe 3-4 and just as my mom was going to tell me to be careful, the girl's mother said, very nicely, "Sweetheart, could you please be careful, I am trying to get my daughter to like the water as much as you do." To which my response was, "Oh in that case, I love to get splashed," and I splashed the little girl. At some point my dad had come over and before I knew what was going on, I was pulled out of the pool and he handed me to mom with a, "Please, I am afraid what I will do to this girl."

Mom walked me to a wooded area behind the picnic tables, swatting my behind the whole way until she thought we were secluded enough, pulled out her hairbrush from her purse, and spanked me until I was good and crying and my behind and upper thighs were red.

Mom took me back to our picnic table and told me to sit. I asked if I could do one thing first. She gave me a look like, it better not be something you know you shouldn't when she said, "if you think it is important." I walked up to the lady and apologized, to her and her daughter and then went back to sit down. Mom and dad both told me they were proud of me for doing the right thing without having to be told to. The lady even came over and asked mom if I could help her with her daughter. I thought that was nice of her.


 
In the grocery store I was to hold on to the cart with one hand and walk quietly while my mom shopped. The deal was this: I would get a dime for the machine when we left or a spanking when we we got home. In order to get the dime I could not ask for things, touch things, interrupt if mom was talking with someone she ran into, and certainly never wander away, or anything else that was not walking sedately beside the cart.

If I got too bored and started to skip on the black tiles or begged for the million of things which a little girl might want in a store all mom would say is "you lost your dime." This was enough to make make me quite somber and start behaving as perfect as possible while I held back tears in anticipation of being paddled. I knew without any doubt that after helping carry in the bags Mom would say "go get ready" and I would have to go bare my backside and drape myself over the arm of our couch then wait until Mom came with her rubber paddle. I don't think Mom's words were as much a threat as a promise because I knew that a spanking or a dime would be the outcome from shopping for groceries. I normally got a dime because I did not like being spanked.



My wife has two sisters, one older and one younger. Her parents used a wooden paddle on the girls when they misbehaved. They were taken to their parents' bedroom, bared from the waist down and soundly paddled. If more than one of them misbehaved at one time, all the offending girls were sent their parents' bedroom so they could all get their bare bottoms paddled in front of one another. My wife has spoken to me a number of times about her experience of watching her siblings get their bare bottoms paddled.

I am thankful to be married to a woman who has not only received a good sound spanking on her bare bottom more times than she will admit to some of her closest friends, but a woman who understands that kids appreciate a good sound bare bottom spanking more than some think.

It wasn't until I had my own kids, and began to really understand the psychological benefits of a spanking for a child. Children don't understand complicated psychology, or emotions. They appreciate clear cut responses to their actions. They also appreciate having their guilty feelings taken away. A good hard spanking on their bare bottoms helps them feel that a price has been paid for their wrongdoings. Things have been set right. There is no need to fret, feel guilty, or hang on to the past. The pants and underwear come down, the paddle is vigorously applied, the pants come back up, and life moves on. Of course I'm leaving out the part about the screaming, the dancing and the rubbing, but that is all circumstantial to the real goal of raising healthy minded children.

We are very involved in their lives, but when they misbehave, there are consequences.



Mom had taken me into town to shop for school clothes. We were in JCPenny's where we had been for a very long time. I had been trying on lots of dresses and shoes and finding matching knee socks...

I was going into the second grade and felt panicked when mom was looking at panties with ruffles on the backside. I had worn those all my life and knew second graders were not supposed to wear them as they were for babies. When mom showed them to me I said defiantly "no way I'm not wearing those!"

She answered "you will if I tell you to!" I think if I would have let it drop I would have stayed out of trouble. Instead I shook my head "no."

Now my mother was not to be defied. Even if she didn't buy the ruffle panties she did walk across the store to the ladies room and I of course followed hoping she just needed to use the bathroom. In those days the women's bathrooms had lounges with vinyl benches. The toilets and sinks were through another door. Well, mom carried a hairbrush which she did use on both of our hair but it worked very well for a paddle in a pinch. That is probably why she used a flat-backed one. Like I said my mom was not to be defied. The lounge was empty as mom sat down on that pink couch, took out her brush and without a word to me pulled me over her lap, lifted my dress, took down my panties, and let me know without any doubt that she was in charge.

I of course cried and hollered so most people in that area of the store knew someone was getting spanked. When she was done spanking me and my panties were back in place we exited the lounge with me crying and mom returning to her shopping tasks. On our way home we stopped at my auntie's house so mom could show her what we had bought and I was told to stand in the corner. Mom then told her sister all about having to "paddle my backside" in the store. Auntie asked if she needed to borrow her spoon to "finish" the job? But much to my relief and agreement Mom said she had done a good enough job. After a while I was released from the corner and got to go play with my cousin.



We didn't live on a farm when I was little, but my mother grew up on one and she couldn't imagine childhood without chores. So I got chores and plenty of them. And if I neglected my chores, or took too long to complete them, or if I did them poorly, my mother never hesitated to turn me over her knee and give me a good spanking.

Once when I was hanging laundry out to dry, a couple of my friends came into our yard to play. I meant to join them just for a minute or two, then finish hanging our laundry. But I quickly became so caught up in our frolicks that I entirely forgot about the basket full of wet clothes. When I heard my mother shout, "Margaret! You come in this house right now, young lady!" I immediately felt my insides contract with fear because I instantly knew why I was in trouble.

When I ran in, promising her I would finish hanging up our laundry right now, she sternly informed me that I had been a bad girl and I was going to be spanked for disobedience. While she marched me to my room I begged her not to spank me, saying I really really really had forgotten my chore by accident and I hadn't meant to disobey her, which was true.

Once she had me in my room she sat on my bedside, her customary spanking-giving spot, and stood me in front of her, with me still promising never to forget my chores ever again and pleading with her not to be spanked. She asked me several times if I was sure I would never forget my chores again, and did I promise never to forget. And for a few hopeful moments I thought perhaps she might forgive me just this once. But then she declared that I had forgotten my chore, hence I might just as easily forget my promise too. So, she concluded, I needed something to help me remember my promise - something I would never forget.

And without further ado, she turned me across her lap, pulled down my panties, and spanked my forgetful little behind with her customary soundness.

After I had finished crying and we prayed together, she sent me outside to finish hanging our laundry. My friends were still there and I tried to act like nothing had happened. But hearing my mother call me inside with such sternness and then seeing me later with my eyes all puffy and red, I'm sure they knew I had been spanked. But they were kind enough to pretend not to notice and not to say anything.

She was right that I would never forget my spanking from her - I never did. Unfortunately, this discipline didn't make me remember my promise forevermore. And I earned myself several additional bottom-warmings from Mommy for similar forgetfulness about chores after that.



When I was a little girl, slamming my door in anger was not tolerated. I would definitely get a spanking. So I generally never dared do it on purpose. But on a few occasions I felt so furious inside that my slammed door just seemed to happen on its own. Then when my mother or father stormed up our stairs to discipline me, I would try my stammering best to convince them that it had been an accident and I hadn't meant it - which was sort of true but also sort of not true.

When my daughter was growing up and I told her to go to her room for a time out, I permitted her to stomp up our stairs and slam her door if she felt inclined. Although I didn't appreciate this sort of behavior from her, she didn't get spanked for it. But if instead of obeying and going to her room she just stamped her little foot and shouted, "NO! I WON'T!" that was a different matter entirely.

If my daughter directly defied me when she was little, she earned herself a pink bottom spanking, given just the way my mother would have done. I was a firm believer in spanking back in those days - firmer than I am now.

With all but the most compliant children, I think if you use any kind of non-physical punishments like time outs, you will probably have times when you will need to resort to giving your child a spanking or at least to threatening her with one to get your child to cooperate with her non-physical punishment.

I do know one young mother who has never spanked her little boy, though. But she never punishes him in any way, or rewards him either. I think this is why she is able to never spank. She believes in "attachment parenting" and "cooperative discipline." Some of his behaviors fall a bit out of my comfort zone sometimes, but overall he is not a bad kid and she is doing a terrific job raising him. And watching how she handles discipline issues with him makes me realize I probably could have avoided many of the spankings I gave my daughter when she was his age, if only I had known how.



Mom kept the paddle on a shelf in our kitchen. It really wasn't "on display."  As a child I knew the paddle was in our kitchen but didn't know where because I was always told to "go get ready" before the paddle was taken down and standing in a corner when it was put away. i found out where it was when I was in early elementary school when I was climbing on the counter to put plates into our cupboard. Now at one of my auntie's house's she kept a flat wooden stick on a nail that was on the inside of the kitchen window. She was a much more of a threatener than a spanker in fact she never spanked me that I can remember but on a few occasions she did inform my mom of my actions and mom used that stick at her house or many times we would be visiting and the stick would be used on me or a cousin.

I was an only child but I did have two cousins which i spent time with. One was my best friend but the other was annoying. Once when I was in the sixth grade I was helping around her house and made it seem like I was doing all the work but in reality I wouldn't let my cousin help. Her mom (my wooden spoon aunt) took the spoon to her. Through her sobs she said I wouldn't let her. When auntie asked me if this were true I said it was. (I never really lied) She didn't spank me but told my mom and Mom gave many more than my normal five swats, which is what I got at home. My dress was lifted and my bare backside and legs wore those round red welts that wooden spoons leave.



I was 9 years old and the school teachers were on strike which meant there was no school... every child's dream...

My best friend and I along with a few others played every day in the church parking lot next to my house...I came one day and was confronted by my very angry mother who wanted to know why I was letting the air out of tires in the church parking lot..This was news to me since I along with my friends had not done that...I denied it...yet a lady who was our neighbour and an important member of our church board had told my mother she had seen us do this...As soon as I denied it I was pulled over my mother's lap and soon found my backside bared where I got the spanking of my life for something I did not even do...I had no proof that I was innocent...even years later when I was in my 20's when my mother would tell my girlfriend (now my wife) what she had spanked me for she mentioned that incident...I still deny it to this day which is the truth....I was angry/hurt/sad then but well over it now...there are things that I got away with growing up that I should have spanked for but wasn't so I guess it all balances out.



In my family, mom was the spanker, but she had dad's full backing. Normally dad did not comment, or just said things like "I'm sure you deserved that" or "I hope you have learned your lesson." But I remember one particular time when mom had spanked me, and in the evening when dad came home I ran to him complaining how "mean" mom had been and how I hated her. He took me to the kitchen, where mom was preparing dinner, and dryly said to her "I think this young lady has not learned her lesson yet. I would recommend another one after dinner." Sure enough, mom followed his advice, and I felt her hairbrush once again on my well-spanked behind. That was the last time I complained to dad about getting spanked!

I did not feel much sympathy when my older sister got it. We never really were the closest of friends, and she teased me mercilessly when I got a spanking, so the times when the words "You will get it now, young lady" were addressed to her (which happened much too rarely, if you asked me), I did not hide my satisfaction. Spankings in our home were given in our kitchen or our living room. Siblings were not normally present (unless they were next in line, which definitely lessened the pleasure), but a spanking could be heard all over our apartment. And I have to confess that i often listened with glee when Brigitte got the hairbrush or the wooden spoon.

Bedtime was the typical "spanking time" in my home. Mom often wanted to discuss our misdeeds with dad before she took action, or she found it impractical to spank us right away, so the saying was, "Wait till bedtime, we will have a little conversation then." Only that the conversation was to be rather one-sided, and the wait for it was less than pleasant. Us children wearing only a pyjama or night gown also made it easier for mom to get to the bottom of our problem, plus a hairbrush was within easy reach.

Going to bed on time also was a big issue especially when I was between 6 and 10, and a few hard smacks on my hiney often were mom's final argument in our discussion about when it was "lights out" time.

Those swats in some way helped me fall asleep fast. As opposed to her hairbrush spankings - those created great discomfort, and I often lay in my bed crying softly and with my little bottom hurting.



In my days girls were expected to behave nicely and “drop curtseys” and were embarrassed if they had been naughty enough to earn a spanking. We were skipping rope when a girl was called home by her older sister who didn’t disguise the purpose. A “friend” led the way shouting: “Come and hear Lisa will get a spanking from her father!” – which we did as those were the days when windows were open during summer. Later the poor girl claimed that she was lucky to get brought up so well! A position we didn't share.



Spankings away from home many times would take place at my mother's friend's houses. I would be told to play quietly while Mom and her friend's visited. I would have brought things to do and normally would be quite obedient but a few times I remember making poor choices.

One time we were visiting and I remember I was wearing a summer romper.  It tied at my shoulders and had elastic around the leg openings so my legs were exposed but I would have had to be fully unclothed for a bottom spanking. I was told that I could play on their front porch but was told to stay away from the sprinklers which were watering their lawn.

It was warm and mom was not watching me i thought. I went to "just" put my hand in the sprinkler which was one of those that turn in a circle to water a large area. Well as it was rotating. I touched something and it swiveled and sprayed me. I was somewhat wet and my shoes were really wet, which was my doom. I quickly ran back to the porch and willed my clothes to dry before Mom noticed.

Shortly after I returned to the porch Mom came out and saw my wet shoes then gave me a quick lecture about doing as I was told. She then took me by my arm and brought me into the kitchen where the ladies were, asked for a wooden spoon and swatted my thigh for what seemed a long time. Then I was escorted to a corner and made to stand there, I think until we left.

The spanking my thigh received was tough but listening to the ladies cackle about me being punished was not fun. But I did not want my other leg spanked so I stood there with my sobbing hiccups that always followed being spanked.



As I got older my spankings became more ritualistic. I believe her rationale behind this was that as I was older my mother felt she could defer them and later remind me why I was being punished. Whereas when I was younger she'd perhaps want to punish me as close to the event as possible.

Often by the age of six or seven, she'd tell me that after dinner I was to go and have a bath and get into my pjs. This was ominous code that I was due a spanking.

After my bath, my mum would come up and sit on my bed and discuss why she was unhappy with me. It was almost like a mini-trial! There were occasions where I even talked her round. My earnest expression was, presumably, enough to convince her that my cause was just.

Then there were of course my real smack bottoms - pjs down, over her knee and a thorough spanking.

   

One of my younger sisters, Julia liked to tattle on us older kids. I think it was a way to get attention. She was the 6th of 9 kids and seemed to enjoy getting the rest of us in trouble. And she would get in trouble for that usually with a mouth soaping and corner time. There were a few times she got spanked for it. But she risked retaliation too when she tattled on one of us.

She told on me once when I snuck a piece of cake one night after dinner. It was cheesecake and I love cheesecake. My mom made great cheesecake. But I was being fussy at supper that night & was told I couldn't have dessert. So later that evening I sneaked into the kitchen and got myself a slice & took it to my room. I think I was 11 or 12. Well Julia saw me carrying the cheesecake to my room & says "oh, you aren't supposed to be eating that. I'm telling." And she did. I just ate the cheesecake as fast as I could before mom yelled for me to come downstairs. I lied about it at first but mom didn't believe me. And Julia is just standing there with this sly grin knowing I was going to get in trouble. Well, I got spanked for disobeying & lying about it but Julia got it for being a tattler. I rather enjoyed that, seeing the look on her face when mom smacked her bottom. No matter how many times she got in trouble for tattling she never seemed to learn, at least not until she got older. She still did it but not as often. But despite that, I still loved her and would do anything to protect her. It's just the way we were as a family.



If I was told that I was going to get a spanking when we got home, it most commonly occurred at church. I was brought up catholic and went to catholic grade school. When I was little, maybe ages 5 to 10, I found going to church to be insanely boring. My brother and I would often goof around. We would get a warning or two to settle down. A third warning always carried with it the promise that we were going to get spanked when we got home. I would feel queazy for the rest of church.

Sometimes, my parents would make me and my brother agonize even longer by choosing to go over to "coffee and donuts" after church. This was a little gathering of the parishioners that took place in the basement of the parish grade school across the parking lot from the church. Normally, my brother and I would join most of the other kids up in the school gymnasium where there were all sorts of things to play with, but if one us, or both of us was promised a spanking when we got home, we had to stay downstairs and sit next to our parents. This, of course, brought questions from the other adults. My parents were not one bit ashamed to tell other parents that I, or my brother and I, were going to get a spanking when we got home. I would get all sorts of looks and comments from the other pro-spanking parents. For ten minutes the adults would talk about how they spank their kids, who received one recently, what with, how hard, etc.



I was spanked the one time I smoked and I never smoked again. A friend of mine stole a pack of her Mom's cigarettes and then we went back in the woods behind her house and we each smoked two of them. We were in 4th grade at the time and I went home smelling like an ashtray. My Mom grilled me as to whether I had been smoking and I, as was my nature, claimed I had not. She smelled my fingers and they reeked of smoke so she knew I was lying. I had to tell on my friend because Mom asked where we got the cigarettes and she got in trouble too.

My friend asked what happened to me for it and I told her I was grounded for a week. I was grounded for a week but what I didn't share with her was how I got my mouth soaped, my bottom blistered with Mom's hairbrush and then a further strapping from my Dad's belt in front of my two sisters so they would see what happened if either of them ever got to thinking that they could smoke. So he made my bottom smoke as an example.

My Mom would not allow me to hang out with this girl and I got spanked a few times for disobeying her because I stayed friends with her but I never touched cigarettes again in my life. I think it was a combination of not liking them and the memory of how badly I was spanked for the time I did smoke that kept me from ever going back.

The girl I smoked with went on to be a smoker. I don't know if it's because her Mom smoked that led her down this path but even though I continued to hang out with her and she actually did try to get me to smoke again I would not. I think the punishment I got for that one time stuck in my head and helped keep me from trying it again.



After a spanking, I'd try to avoid catching it again for a few weeks, but then my memory would fade and I'd be back across mum's knee again.

As for implements, sometimes there was an "upgrade", sometimes not. It depended on how mum was feeling at the time, how naughty I'd been recently (and I could be a little brat at times)and what the nature of my offence was.

In our house, particular methods of spanking only came into play at different ages. Hand-spanking on your clothes until we started school, then bare bottom. About age eight or nine, the slipper and hairbrush made an appearance. Then from about twelve, dad very occasionally used his belt. No method was ever dropped from their list of options - my second to last spanking at seventeen was with mum's hand and I still bawled like a five-year-old!

As a child and teenager, I was spanked by both parents, but mainly by my mother. Probably about ninety percent of our spankings were by mum, with dad an unwilling participant when she grew tired of being the disciplinarian in our family. My little sister and I were both his little princesses and even at a young age, we could see that it hurt him more than mum to tan our bare bottoms, though he certainly never held back and probably spanked harder. When the belt was introduced from about age twelve as an ultimate option, dad was the only one who used it (except once, when mum tried - she was pretty inaccurate, missed and bruised my back with her first stroke, which made me scream my head off and mum ran off crying at what she'd accidentally done).

Anyhow, spankings from dad always felt like a special event, whereas mum's felt more routine. I think this was probably because we always felt bad, as dad seemed more upset before and after the event than mum.



Were we girls spanked for tattling?  It depended if it was for merely mischief making, or for something more important. If it was the former, then my sister and I were both spanked. On other occasions, however, the tattler got off with it.

My sister had a habit of doing dangerous things, like taking a short-cut home from school along the local railway line and main road (which had no pavement, just a slippery grass verge). One boy in our class had been killed on that road, and I was terrified it would happen to her. So at first I tried to reason with my sister, but eventually started to tell mum. I was never punished for that sort of tattling and I hated hearing my little sister getting spanked, but even though she didn't talk to me for days afterwards, I didn't want to see her getting herself killed.

I really hated telling my mother what my sister had been up to, knowing what the consequences for her would be. However, my sister seemed to be going through a stupid patch - she didn't even stop taking that walk along the railway line when a neighbour spotted her with three friends and told mum. That resulted in a meeting between four mothers, ending with four little girls with sore backsides - and still my sister kept scaring me witless!

She tried to get her own back a few times, but mum's "no-tattling for mischief-making" rule simply got her spanked again, especially since mum was quite adept at seeing through fibs.



My siblings & I always had chores to do around the house every day. Mom kept a chart on a wall inour kitchen where she kept track of who's turn it was. Boys had chores only boys did, like yard work or cleaning our basement or garage, or in the winter time, shoveling tour driveway. Girls helped with laundry & sweeping & mopping & other stuff like that. We all had to wash & dry the dishes. That was the one chore that we seemed to argue over most. None of us liked doing it but every night 3 of us were assigned that chore.

I can remember one night my brother Tony, our sister Claudia & I were assigned kitchen duty after supper. Tony is 4 yrs older than me & Claudia is about 1 1/2 yrs younger so I was around 10 at the time & Tony would have been 14. He was grumpy about having to do the dishes that night. We started to argue about everything. He got mad because Claudia wouldn't put the dishes on our counter in the "right order". Then he would yell at me because I wasn't drying fast enough. He had to wait for me to empty the dish rack before he could put more in. Then he lost it and splashed dishwater on me. Well one thing led to another and pretty soon there was water all over our kitchen floor. We all contributed. I grabbed the sprayer on the sink & sprayed him & Claudia. Claudia filled a glass with water & dumped it on me in retaliation. But we were laughing after awhile. That is until mom came in the room. I mean we really made a mess. Plus we were soaked. When my mother got really angry she reverted to Italian. "Che cosa sta facendo? Che cosa e tutto questo acqua sul pavimento? Che cosa e errato con voi?! Lei e stupida in testa?" We all understood perfectly. "What are you doing? What's all this water on the floor? What is wrong with you?! Are you stupid in the head?" That last one was what my grandma would say quite often.

Then she ordered Tony to get the paddle. "Get over here right now Anthony"! We all got a some pretty red bottoms. Claudia was classic Claudia, telling mom, "I didn't do it mama, I was good. It was their fault". Mom knew better & she got a worse spanking for lying. Then we had to clean up our mess of course. Me & Claudia got sent to bed when we were done. Tony had homework to do first. But we all went to mom and apologized before going to bed. By that time she had calmed down & we all got hugs & forgiveness.



I have given quite a few spankings as a babysitter. I began babysitting when I was 13 and I recall giving a spanking to a 7 year old girl not long after I had started babysitting. Her mom had told me to spank her if she gave me any trouble but did not say how to spank her. I decided to spank her the same way I got it except I did not take down her panties.

I had told her to turn off the TV because her Mom had said to make sure she did her homework before watching TV. She turned it off for a moment but then put it back on. I decided she was directly disobeying me and that she deserved a spanking.

I sat down on their couch and pulled her over my lap. I lifted her skirt and spanked her panties until she was crying nice and hard. I figured that if I had disobeyed my mom, she would have taken down my panties for my spanking but I was not her mom; I figured I was giving her a break. I could see her butt turning red through her panties. I figured she had enough so I let her up.

I was about to give her a hug when she ran to her room and locked her door. I could hear her crying but she refused to open her door.

A few hours later her mom came home and I told her what happened. She said that I had done fine but she usually spanks with a ping pong paddle; I apparently gave her child the sort of spanking she got when she was in preschool. She said her daughter probably felt as if she were being treated like a baby.

I was called to babysit again BTW. But next time her mom showed me where they kept their paddle.



I was spanked with the razor strap starting at age seven. It was a Friday night at that, when my ten year odyssey of being spanked with that unholy piece of wickedness began. My older sister and I were sharing a bedroom and we had flouted repeated warnings to "knock it off and go to sleep." I remember my sister at one point mocking my Dad and I burst out laughing. We heard our parents' door open and my Dad coming down the hall. I rolled over and pretended to be asleep and our door opened and Dad strode to my bed, yanked the blankets off of me and whipped my butt like 7 or 8 times with the strap. It was such an explosion of pain and I did not know what caused it till I saw my Dad holding it and heading over to my sister's bed. She was sitting against the wall on her bed at this point with her knees to her chest and crying from what she had seen and in the knowledge of what was coming her way. My sister's spanking was more formal than mine. She was made to stand up and pull down her pajamas and panties and bend over her bed...this was to be my standard method of being spanked by my Dad up till High School when for some reason he switched to having me lay atop my bed. This was the only time I was ever strapped where it was not on my bare bottom. Both me and my sister cried ourselves to sleep that night and neither one of us said a single word...I think we were both too scared of a repeat performance.


  
When my father spanked me, he would turn up my skirts but he never pulled down my panties like my mother always did.  I was a girl and this was out of respect for my maidenly modesty.

But when his big hard hand walloped my panty-covered bottom I didn't feel like I had anything on back there.  His spanks were slow and forceful.  My impression when his first swat landed was of how strong he was and of how hard he had just smacked me, followed an instant later by that awful OUCH! sensation.  If I wasn't already in tears, I would burst into tears after his first spank.  And while I was still reacting to the sting of his first spank, another impact would come, followed by an even worse OUCH!  Then another impact and another OUCH! This continued until well past the point when I was bawling with pain across his lap, until he finally decided Daddy's little princess had learned her lesson.

My mother didn't have my father's upper body strength, but she didn't need it.  Her style of spanking used repetition rather than force: crisp stinging slaps, given in rapid succession.  Her slaps weren't as powerful as Daddy's but she gave you more of them.  When getting a spanking from my mother, I think my thin layer of panty fabric probably would have provided me with some small measure of protection if I'd had it.  My mother seemed to think so too, because she pulled my panties down whenever she spanked me, to make sure my bare skin fully experienced every slap.

According to my mother, my most-spanked age was four.  She told me this when my daughter was that age and I was confiding to my mother that I feared I was doing something wrong because I was spanking my daughter so often. She assured me this was normal and that I'd been no different.

My mother said at age four I rarely made it through a whole week without getting a spanking.  I was stunned when she told me two or three spankings a week was typical for me at that age.  I don't remember any of this. Yet if her recollection is correct, I must have received over a hundred spankings from her that year.

And judging by my mother's discipline advice to me when my own daughter was a preschooler, her idea of a "spanking" for a little girl that age meant being pinned across your mother's knee and getting 8-12 solid slaps on your bottom with your panties pulled down.

I wonder, how could I have received so many soundly-administered, formal spankings at that age and forgotten them all??




I could become so distracted by my own daydreams that I would forget a chore.  Once I had a big bucket of potatoes to peel and I peeled one or two, hating how boring and dumb my job was and wishing I didn't have to do it.  Then I sat, with half-peeled potato in hand, gazing out the window lost in my fun stories inside... until many minutes later when a wave of fear whipped through me at the sound of my mother's reprimand. 

"Margaret!" she exclaimed severely, "You should have finished those potatoes by now and you've barely even started!"  She wouldn't hear any excuses from me: "I forgot, Mommy!" and "I didn't mean it, Mommy!" didn't move her in the least. I'd been a bad girl for disobeying her and that was all there was to it.  So she marched me to my room put me over her knee and spanked me.

Getting punished so soundly for a disobedience I had never consciously chosen to commit was part of why I preferred my make believe world so much, because such catastrophes never happened to me there. 

My mother meant well. She loved me and raised me as she thought best. But her efforts to spank away my day-dreaming problem ended in failure. Instead she only reinforced it further by making me want to escape further into my inner dramas, where I was in control instead of her.

My make-believe world would take hold of my mind most intrusively when I wasn't happy with my life in the here and now - such as having a whole pile of potatoes to peel.  You couldn't have swept away my imaginary worlds with a hair brush if you had raised me, not permanently anyhow.  If anything, you would have given me further reason to want to escape into Make-believe Land where I never got spanked.

If you'd had me to raise, my day-dreaming might have worn out your patience, though, like it wore out my mother's patience.  My day-dreaming took up time when I was supposed to be doing constructive things, and made me a poorer listener.  And although I usually didn't form a conscious intention in my heart to not do as I'd been told and to day-dream instead, there was an unconscious element of willfulness there.  I don't think my mother was wrong to see this latter element in me as a matter for discipline, even though her way of disciplining me for it backfired. 

With those potatoes, if my mother had peeled them with me, I wouldn't have day-dreamed so much - Mommy would have seen to that.  When I seriously neglected chores due to day-dreaming, usually they were chores I was assigned to do alone.



  
When I was little, if promised "a spanking when we get home," I would be an extra, extra good girl, hoping my mother would forget to spank me, or change her mind, or maybe just pretend to forget.  I never asked her if I had been good enough to cancel my spanking because I didn't want to remind her.

But I can't recall a single time when being extra good saved me from my promised spanking.  If it ever did, I've forgotten, and I think I would remember.  But I always tried anyway, because I really feared my mother's spankings, and I had no other hope of escape except extra good behavior.  We would get home and I would eagerly help Mommy put our groceries away and then chirp, "Mommy? May I go outside and play now?" hoping to put myself out of sight and out of mind.  And she would say something like, "Yes dear, you may go play... after Mommy gives you your spanking. Go to your room." 

With my own child, I tried to avoid promising her a spanking when we got home, but I sometimes did when I didn't know how else to handle her misbehavior in public.  Sometimes she would be extra good like I was when I was her age, but other times she would completely melt down: "NO MOMMEE!! I DON'T WANNA SPANKING!! NO NO NO!!" and every head would turn our way. If there was a "right" discipline formula for her, I certainly never discovered it.  I just muddled along, parenting her the best I knew how.

And sometimes, when my daughter had been extra good rather than melting down, I would excuse her from her spanking once we got home, or pretend to forget.  (My mother was very critical of me for things like this).

Once, years ago, I tried to convince my adult daughter during one of her visits that I had never "hit" her when she was a little girl, merely "spanked" her.

She stormed out of the room and stormed back in with our dictionary, plonked it down on the table and furiously turned pages until she came to the definition of "spank."  It said to "spank" meant to "strike" the buttocks with the open hand or something flat, as punishment.  Then she looked up "strike" and triumphantly read aloud that to "strike" meant to "hit."  She literally held the book right in my face, her eyes full of fire: "If spanking is striking and striking is hitting then spanking is hitting, MOTHER!"

She won that argument.  How could I argue with my own dictionary? 

I avoid this subject with her whenever I can manage.  Frankly her anger intimidates me.  She takes after my mother in temperment.  When she thinks she is right she doesn't listen to anything you say. (When she was preschool-aged and sometimes at older ages too, she was this way, and she sometimes got spanked for it.  Back then I thought it was just a phase.  It wasn't!)

Both my mother and my daughter are stronger-willed than I'll ever be.  And when she gets angry at me, she reminds me so much of her grandmother that in my gut I half-expect at any moment to be put over her knee!



 
It did seem to me that boys had greater freedom than we did.  I was expected to play nicely and keep my dress clean. A grass-stained or mud-soiled frock meant I had to scrub it by hand until it was spanking clean, but only after I'd first been spanked myself. If I'd been a boy I think I would have been permitted to play rougher and get dirtier without getting in so much trouble. 

I would probably have been permitted to climb trees if I'd been a boy, since boys all seemed to be allowed to do so.  But when my mother caught me up a tree she marched me straight home and gave me a good spanking for that.  So when boys climbed trees, I could only look upwards with envy, wishing I could join them.

For Biblical reasons, my mother and I always wore dresses or skirts, which meant I dared not play some games boys enjoyed, like turning cartwheels or hanging upside down from the monkey bars or doing head stands.  Allowing my panties to show meant I was being unladylike and needed firm discipline to teach me to proper deportment.  Boys never had to worry about their underpants showing.

Speaking of ladylike, if I'd been a boy and another child hit me, I think my father would have wanted me to "be a man" and stand up for myself: hit the other boy back.  But I was taught that nice girls never hit, not even to fight back when someone hits you first.  In our family, a little girl who hit for any reason got her little bare bottom warmed by her Mommy for that. Instead I was supposed to run and tell on the child who hit me.

And in my teens, if I'd been a boy, I imagine I would have been permitted to go out on Friday night and carouse with my peer group.  But as a girl I was forbidden from leaving our house or yard after dark unless I had specific permission to attend a church or school activity.

Despite their greater freedom, I did perceive when I was growing up that boys in general seemed to get spanked a good deal oftener than we did.  But boys in general misbehaved oftener than we did too!



Did anyone else have childish takes on those special adjectives grown-ups in our lives would employ as modifiers for the "s" word?

When I was little, when it came to my spankings, "good" meant "bad," meaning "hard."  Why "good" should have this odd meaning never made sense to me.  But I didn't feel comfortable asking my mother about this.

But once when a little friend and I accompanied our mothers on a shopping trip, my friend kept behaving sullenly and mouthy to her mother - sassier than I would have dared act with my own mother.  When my friend's mother's patience began to wear thin she warned her daughter, "Young lady, I ought to give you a good spanking right here in the store in front of God and everybody!"

Then my friend fired back with the question I had never dared ask my own mother aloud, (although I had certainly thought it): "What's so 'good' about a spanking??"  I held my breath, afraid my friend's mother really would spank her right then and there, but nothing happened.

So my mother answered in my friend's mother's stead, telling my friend, "What's 'good' is how YOU will BEHAVE... AFTER you've been spanked!"  Both our mothers laughed and tension dissipated.  My friend didn't get a spanking that afternoon that I can remember, but I'm pretty sure she also didn't sass her mother so much for the remainder of our errands either.

Despite my unexpected glimpse into my mother's view of the word "good" I still thought of "good" as simply meaning "hard," self-centeredly viewing it in terms of how a "good" spanking affected me rather than from my mother's perspective.

I knew the word "sound" from an early age, of course.  It meant noises, things you can hear, like being scolded.  But a "sound" spanking?  A spanking, after all, was something you FELT.  Yet I never heard my mother tell my father, "I gave our daughter a sound scolding this afternoon."

I knew nothing of the word "sound" referring to "healthy and wholesome."  So I wondered if maybe "a sound spanking" referred to the sounds you made while in the throes of getting your bottom smacked.  If you had to cry very loudly, did that make your spanking a "sound" one?  But maybe it really meant those sharp, slapping "sounds" of their palm or brush whapping across your behind? Perhaps it meant both?

And why would your parents threaten you with "old-fashioned" spanking?  Had grownups somewhere invented a new method??  If so, why did you never hear parents promising their misbehaving children "an up-to-date, modern spanking?"  Perhaps "old-fashioned" meant "bare?"  This was my best guess, but I wasn't sure I was right, and I didn't feel the least bit comfortable bringing up such a subject with my mother (who was the parent who spanked me bare) so I never asked.



An achey, bruised bottom can make your child's school performance suffer if they can't sit comfortably in their chair at school.  I experienced this myself on certain occasions when my mother spanked me particularly hard with her hair brush. It didn't make be better behaved, but just embarrassed me when my teacher would say, "Margaret! Don't be such a wiggle worm!" because I kept squirming in my chair, and the other children would all laugh at me.

I don't think my teacher gave any thought to why I might be squirming, she just wanted me to stop.  And I suppose she thought enlisting some peer pressure on me might help.


Sitting on those hard wooden schoolroom chairs with an achey bottom from your mother's hair brush felt bearable at first.  But as your school day dragged on, you had a harder and harder time finding a comfortable way to place your weight on your bottom. You wished you didn't have to sit at all but you had to because you were in school.

My mother's attitude was, "you should have behaved yourself."

   

Speaking of instant unthinking obedience, this reminds me of something I read by a certain parenting author whom I won't name because I don't want to give him free publicity. He believes in spanking children with a flexible length of whippy, quarter inch plastic tubing on their bare skin. I've held one and tried it on my leg; it was like one of my mother's willow switches, but permanent and unbreakable.  (I'm glad hardware stores didn't have these when I was little!)

One day he was driving his vehicle with two of his daughters in the back seat, whom I think were 8 and 10.  He had stopped when he noticed that a battery behind the seat where his girls sat was arcing.  He yelled at both of them to get out of the vehicle. 

He said both girls literally dove out their respective passenger windows, landing painfully on the road - so instant and unthinking was their obedience to their father's command.  They were both a bit bruised and banged up from their head-first dives into the road, but they didn't feel they'd had any other choice when their father gave them an order like that, except to obey at once and worry about the consequences of their actions later.

He tells this story to show off how well-trained his children are.  It would be just his luck to be giving one of them a driving lesson years later, doze off, wake up to find his daughter driving roughly along the shoulder, command her to get back on the road. And thanks to all those whippings he gave her, she instantly steers them both into a head-on crash with a semi.



When I was 5 or 6 I kept pestering my mother to go up for communion. But not having made my first communion yet I obviously was not allowed. My mother finally told me to sit down and be quiet and gave me the look. I guess I did not see the look since I sat down and picked up a hymn book and tossed it over the pew where we were sitting and it landed in the main isle. My mother leaned over and said 'Lori pick up the book now and sit down because when we get home I promise you sitting will not be an option for you young lady' and it wasn't. As soon as we got in the door I found myself and my backside exposed and bent over her lap where I was soundly spanked.



I clearly remember the first time mom told me to take off my skirt, rather than taking it (or my pants) off for me. I must have been 8 years old, and she didn't explain her change from the routine before, but I clearly felt that this was a sign of me growing up to be a "big girl". Unfortunately, being a big girl also meant that I'd no longer just get it with her hand but with the house slipper or even with her dreaded hairbrush. In that regard, I would have much preferred to be a "little girl" again. Undies, by the way, were always pushed down by mom when I was over her knee.



I wouldn't say I was a fussy eater as a kid, in fact my mom was a terrific cook. But there were some foods I really didn't like. I hated peas & I still do. So anytime mom made something with peas in it I was going to do my best to avoid eating them.

Mom made a fantastic lamb stew. I loved her lamb stew except for one thing: she always put peas in it. She did this even though me & my sister Marisa both hated peas.

So I would fuss about eating the peas. My parents insisted that I eat them or at least most of them. More often than not I would have to sit at the dinner table long after everyone (or most everyone) else was done & finish my dinner including the peas.

And if I fussed too much I would sometimes get a spanking for it.

I remember one night when I was around age 10. We were having lamb stew & I was being difficult about eating the peas. I hunted them down and scooped them out of the stew and put them on the plate my bowl was on. I thought I was getting away with it, then dad noticed what I was doing. He told me to stop picking out the peas & eat them. I said, like I had told him a thousand times before that I didn't like them. He said that I had to eat everything that I was given. So I said "well tell mom to stop putting them in there then." He rapped the table as he often did when he was getting angry and told me to stop being difficult and eat. "Don't disrespect your mother. Peas are good for you. They make you smart & strong. I love them." So I said "well you eat them then. I hate them & I'm not eating them." The rest of my family started to focus on my battle of wills with our father, knowing what the outcome would be. My mom pitched in, "You stop being so fussy & eat. No dessert for you tonight." I think I said something like "fine, I'll just go to my room then cause I'm not eating these stupid peas!" With that my father stood up and said "come with me then." I know I started to cry a little but I got up and followed dad to our living room where he yanked down my pants & underwear, pulled me over his lap & gave me a hard spanking with his hand. Dad spanked hard & long when he spanked me & I know I was howling & crying loud enough for our neighbors to hear. When he was done he told me I was going to eat all of my dinner including all of those peas then I was going to bed. I didn't argue and went back to the table still crying. So I sat there for another hour I think, still sobbing & eating those wretched peas & my now cold lamb stew.



Once when I was 7 or 8 I even hid in a closet for a while thinking mom would forget about the spanking I had earned. Mom patiently waited till I came out again, took me over her knee and spanked me, and then quietly explained that I would get an extra spanking at bedtime for trying to evade her. And yes, I did get an extra spanking that I was not to forget!

Bedtime was our typical "spanking time" in my home. Mom often wanted to discuss our misdeeds with dad before she took action, or she found it impractical to spank us right away, so her saying was "Wait till bedtime, we will have a little conversation then." Only that the conversation was to be rather one-sided, and the wait for it was less than pleasant. Us children wearing only a pyjama or night gown also made it easier for mom to get to the bottom of the problem, plus a hairbrush was within easy reach. "Us children" were my big sis, little brother and me. I did not wear undies under my PJ but did wear panties under my nightgown. If I was to get spanked, those had to go too.

Going to bed on time also was a big issue especially when I was between 6 and 10, and a few hard smacks on my hiney often were mom's final argument in the discussion about when it was "lights out" time.

Those swats in some way helped me fall asleep fast. As opposed to the hairbrush spankings - those created great discomfort, and I often lay in my bed crying softly and with my little bottom hurting.

We were almost always spanked in private. I shared a room with my sister till she was 11 and I was 8, but even then the girl who was not going to get spanked was told to wait outside. (And I have to admit that I did not go too far away when my sister was going to get her behind smacked!) I remember only very few occasions where sis and I got it together because we had messed up (literally - we had turned our bathroom into a mess) together. Then my sister went over mom's knee first, but I was much too nervous to concetrate on watching her getting spanked. Soon enough, it was my turn!



We were literally lined up when we got it together – like for whispering together after lights out and Father’s: “Can we have QUIET please” without realising that he listened at our door. He would open our door and turn the light on and tell us to get out onto the floor. We would “line up” on the floor quietly – maybe one trying to get behind the other one – while Father would pull out one of our two high-backed chairs, turn it 180 degrees and pick his spanking stick from our wardrobe. My sister was then ordered to step forward and lower her pyjama bottoms and bend over the seat. When she was finished she would step back in line and I would step forward for my turn. Then it was back into bed.

The next morning we might discuss who whispered the last word and triggered our mishap. If our misbehaviour didn’t happen at bed time we would stay in our room afterwards sulking and arguing who was to blame. One of the last times when we were about 9 and 11 and got it on a Sunday afternoon shortly after 3 p.m. when afternoon tea was finished. We had been on forbidden paths (watching the royal yacht arrive at the harbour) and Father found out and announcedour spanking after tea. There was plenty of time to sulk about the hardships of childhood our stupid parents etc. etc. and pity ourselves.



If my sister or I did any of the following, it generally resulted in a little girl's bottom being bared and thoroughly spanked:

1. Telling lies
2. Getting into trouble at school (somehow, mum always knew)
3. Bickering with my sister (that was usually a double session)
4. Excessively late home from school (she didn't mind a little dawdling, but anything beyond twenty minutes or so was a no-no).
5. Disrespect to our parents or any other adult
6. Misbehaving on shopping trips
7. Fighting with the boy next door (we had a hate-hate relationship and I took advantage of the "boys shouldn't hit girls" unofficial rule and usually won the fight).

My sister and I would get one warning for minor bad behaviour. If we were out in public, more serious transgressions (fighting, running off, tantrums) were dealt with on the spot with a slap on our backsides. That simply meant that our knickers would be coming down as soon as we got home, for a proper dose.

Only once were we punished bare bottom while out shopping. My sister and I, messing around in a clothes shop, managed to knock down a row of mannequins. We were dragged into a changing room one at a time, taken over mum's knee, and her hand was applied to our bare backsides until the whole shop could hear us squealing.

Once we reached the bare-bottom age of spankings (after starting school) even if we'd been in trouble together, my sister and I usually received our spankings in private. Usually, that meant the offender being taken up to her room and pants pulled down for the main event. Initial scoldings were, however, given in front of the sibling, so that the message could be shared.

On occasion, if my parents (usually mum, as the main spanker) decided to do it in the living room, the other sibling would be told to make herself scarce, with an explicit warning not to listen at the door.

I was twice caught eavesdropping when my cousin Ruth was being spanked. I hated her with a fiery passion and she was always trying to get me into trouble. Usually she succeeded, as she was a very credible liar and had a butter-wouldn't-melt expression - especially around my mother. So when I was visiting my Aunt and Ruth was told to "go upstairs and get your bottom ready" (ie to take her knickers down prior to a slippering), I sneaked upstairs to listen. The first time, my uncle caught me and simply delivered one swat to my clothed backside, laughed and told me to run away. The second time, my Aunt caught me (I stepped on a creaky floorboard) and I was sent to their guest room, to "get my bottom ready".

My sister and I were spanked by mum until we cried. I was pretty stubborn and usually tried to hold out as long as possible, so as not to give mum the satisfaction. In any case, she knew my usual threshold and could also tell fake and premature tears a mile off - that earned a lot of extra spanks (my sister never figured that out). Once your crying started, mum kept going for a while longer, just to make sure.

The hand never fell out of favour in our house. Before starting school, my sister and I were smacked with a hand over the clothes. Thereafter, it was on your bare-bottom, into our late teens. Other implements were introduced at various stages - slipper, hairbrush - belt - but we probably got more with mum's hand than any other method.

Swat for swat, it obviously wasn't as bad as the slipper or hairbrush, but mum spanked for a LOT longer when she was using her hand. Every square inch of our backsides would be slapped hard multiple times, until we were just as red as if an implement had been used. By the midway point, our bottoms were so sore, it actually didn't make much difference whether she was using the slipper or brush. The belt, of course, was another matter...

Only once did I ever ask for a spanking, when mum tried something different one summer. I can't remember my offence, but it was particularly serious and she decided to ground me rather than tanning my backside. Two weeks of absolutely glorious sunshine, while my friends played outside. I was begging her, with tears in my eyes, to take my pants down - I'd even fetched the hairbrush and slipper, to give her the choice.

I was simply told that my grounding was obviously hurting me more, so it was working, but if I wanted a sore bare bottom in addition, then she'd give me one. And if I asked again, then that's exactly what would happen to me. Needless to say, I backed off and just had to tolerate being shut up in our house.



The occasion was a big family event. If my memory serves me right, I was ten and it was to celebrate my grandmother's 70th birthday. My grandparents, uncles and aunts had all assembled at our house for three days, together with my cousins, one of whom was the same age as me, the others all younger.

Mum had spent all the previous day baking cakes for the main event and my sister and I were forbidden, on pain of a spanking, from even thinking about stealing any. I nevertheless spent the day plaguing her for some of the most wonderful-looking chocolate cake, only to be refused each time and eventually threatened with her hand across my bum and getting none the next day, if I didn't desist.

On the day of the party and before the meal, mum placed all the cakes out of reach of the kids - except for me, who was tall for my age. The inevitable happened, of course. Mum went into the kitchen, to find a big lump of the chocolate cake I'd been eyeing had disappeared, and all of the adults denied knowing anything about it.

I knew differently - my oldest cousin, who was same age, was licking her lips and looking very smug - but I couldn't figure out how she'd reached the damned cake. Mum decided I was the guilty one, on the basis of available evidence (bugging her for a piece of that particular cake and the fact only I could reach it).

With my cousin smirking in the background, I was marched off to the bathroom, the only available spanking spot in an otherwise full house, and sentenced to a slippering. I, meanwhile, was crying at the injustice even before my knickers were pulled down, which was unusual - normally it took half the spanking before I gave mum the satisfaction. I was over mum's knee, backside bare, having already taken four whacks with her plimsoll, when one of my uncles knocked on the door (he'd been away walking the dog). He admitted that my cousin had been trying to reach the cake - in spite of her being told that it was off-limits until tea-time - so he'd given her a boost.

My aunt was promptly summoned, while mum apologised and gave me a big hug (she was always fair about things like that). My aunt decided that my cousin ought to get two spankings - one from mum, for stealing the cake, and another from her for standing by and allowing someone else to be punished for nothing. My uncle (her brother) meanwhile had his ears bent for complicity. And I at least was given the previously unheard of satisfaction of watching my cousin (who I hated) going over the knee twice for a hard slippering. Normally, spankings were given in private, but I was considered a very wronged party, so I was allowed to spectate and also spoiled rotten by my Aunt for the rest of the day.

Of course, any moral advantage I'd scored over my cousin was lost two days later, when I was caught red-handed rubbing her face in the mud. So out came the slipper again...



I was born and raised in Germany during world war two. I can rightfully say that just about all children and teenagers were spanked with the “yellow uncle”, the “Rohrstock”. Rohrstock stands for bamboo cane. The German bamboo is light, flexible and very painful. Those spankings were traditionally given on the bare bottom which raises colorful welts but do not cause permanent damages. A spanking consisted in the average of ten forceful blows, but could reach as much as twenty. We were spanked not only by our parents but from everyone who felt that we deserved a spanking without prior parental consent. They were given from all family members, teacher, principles and even from police officers and total strangers. That could lead to more than one spanking on a given day. Spankings were strongly promoted from the government, demanding that the German youth need to be ”hardened up” to become brave soldiers. Rohrstocks were produced for that very purpose and sold openly in every grocery and hardware store for Two Marks each. They came bundled up at a variety of lengths and sizes. They had a warning attached to prevent hitting the kidney area. Store keepers even assisted buyers in making the right selection depending on the individual child’s physic, often even with the child present which led to tears and embarrassing begging’s right there in the store for everyone to witness.



I was out to dinner with some old childhood friends of mine and one mentioned how her mom once spanked her in front of her younger cousins and how embarrassing that was. One of my best friends when I was growing up mentioned that I got spanked lots in front of her and it never seemed to bother me. I was shocked, as I couldn't remember ever being spanked in front of any of my friends, and rarely in front of my brother. After a bit of discussion I figured out she was talking about all the times mom or dad "swatted" me once or twice as a warning, I laughed at her and told her those weren't spanking those were swats. To me a spanking meant being taken over mom or dad's lap and having them use a hairbrush or small paddle on either my panties or bare bottom. If I was standing and my panties were covered then I didn't count it as a spanking.



Twisting wriggling and reaching back is a human reaction to a spanking. My Father had me lie with my arms stretched forward on the seat of a high-backed chair that he pulled out from our table and turned 180 degrees, so that he could put his left foot on the small of my back to prevent me from moving and reaching back.

However on one occasion I managed to stay in place without help.

Our lenient mother never spanked my sister and me except when Dad was away and we always hoped it would be her next time we were caught misbehaving. Dad must have “twisted her arm” that afternoon when they brought home two switches. We were 9 and 11 and saw them by mistake so Mother quickly lied: “Flower sticks." That same evening she appeared with a stick in our bedroom when we had exceeded our bedtime. She pulled the chair out and told me to drop my pajama pants and my sister to go and report to Father in the living room.

I was SO relieved having “drawn” Mother in this unexpected “division of labour” and quickly did as told, while Sis fearfully refused to leave and had to be pushed out. Being inexperienced Mother didn’t turn the high-backed chair around so that she could pin me down and I just lay down with my arms alongside believing I could cope! However, it went like this:

WHACK: Both hands jerked back to protect my naked rear end.
WHAK: Both hands jerked away when hit by her switch.
WHACK: I jumped my feet and clutched my buttocks on the verge of crying only to be told I would join my sister if I didn’t cooperate. That was the last thing I would do, so I lay back down, closed my eyes grabbed the cross bar between the chair legs with both hands and
WHACK: – WAAAHH.

Believe it or not and I managed to stay in place for my worst spanking ever without any support out of fear for the alternative.



When I was 6 and my sister was 4 we got spanked twice--one right behind the other.

We were sent outside to play, but were told emphatically--"Do not get dirty." Of course, back in those days, no one took circumstances into account. If you got dirty, you got spanked. Period, end of story.

We were at a friends house and told them we couldn't play because we couldn't get dirty. Being the naughty boys that they were, they then started throwing mud at us. I had pink pants on and a pink and white shirt---I was full of mud.

We cried the whole way home, knowing our fate was sealed. Today, I would have never spank my children because of something other children did. But in those days, it didn't matter. We were told not to, we did and therefore, we were to be spanked.

Per the normal we were told to bend over between his legs and he pulled our pants and panties down and spanked us with his hand until I was crying uncontrollably. However, my sister, who was always stubborn. Refused to cry--even at that young age. She would hold it in. I still don't know how she did that. I was spanked first and was sitting on the couch with my stinging fanny watching her spanking. She did not cry. When it was done, she sat next to me--silently.

He walked away but was infuriated that she did not cry. He came back saying, "well, I guess I just didn't spank you both hard enough if your sister can't cry. So, we are going to do this again." Now wouldn't you think, since I was still crying I would have been left alone. Nope. He grabbed me and spanked me again on the bare bottom until I was completely out of control with sobbing. He then spanked my sister again and finally she cried.

I wasn't very old, but I was so upset at how unfair it was. First, it wasn't even our fault that we were dirty and then to spank me twice for her not crying. Amazing.

   

I was 11 yrs old when I first felt embarrassed at others knowing I got spankings. This was because of a family change. My single mother had raised me alone.  And she had always punished me with bare bottomed spankings and all my cousins were spanked so I just assumed all other kids got spanked as well.

But when my mother remarried (to a man I really liked and now love as my dad) I suddenly had two new siblings, a boy one year younger and a girl one year older. It was a major adjustment for me, in many ways good and some not so good, as it had always been just my mother and me "against the world."

The most dramatic "not so good" part of having a new brother and sister was when I found out that their father did NOT believe in spanking his kids so they got grounded or lost allowance and such. Though she tried, my mother couldn't change his mind but neither could he change her mind so mother continued to spank me like she always had!

Suddenly, I found myself the only "spanked" kid in our house and that added greatly to my usual shameful discomfort. Thankfully, mother only spanked me in private, with my door closed (usually) but I remember my new siblings being very shocked at what they heard coming from my bedroom - the loud SLAPS and even louder crying.

We actually had a VERY embarrassing "family meeting" about it so my new Dad could explain to his kids that they would still not be getting spanked but also my mother promising to keep spanking MY bare bottom whenever I deserved it.

So that first year, when I was 11, was when my full humiliation of others knowing, even hearing my spankings, began. And it lasted until I turned 16 and mother stopped spanking me for good.

To their credit, my new brother and sister were pretty nice about it. They felt sorry for me and didn't really tease me or anything - but for a few instances when one or both of them was really mad at me - like siblings get sometimes.

But I can't forget some of the resentment I felt when I got into trouble with one or both my siblings, as for doing the same things wrong they got lectured then grounded or such while my mother sent me to my room with orders to "take off your skirt and wait for me to come up and spank you."

I guess at least my punishment was over quicker than their groundings but I'd have gladly trading being on restriction for being the ONLY one getting spanked!

At first it was extremely humiliating just for the fact that my new dad and sisters knew I got bare bottomed spankings at all. But I accepted it as mother had always spanked me and at least she did it in my room (but for rare times).

At first actually I didn't care/want my step sisters to be spanked also. I didn't want to be around ANY spanking and I was scared that if their Dad started spanking them he might end up spanking ME!

But older - in puberty - I began resenting the fact that I was still spanked at all and realizing I was facing teenage bare bottomed spankings with everyone hearing was awful.

Like I said, it was wonderful that my sisters never teased me and showed sympathy but that led to some embarrassments like once I came home from school and my oldest sister had a friend over. She sent her friend home and told me, "Don't worry, I made her go home so she wouldn't hear."
I didn't know what she was talking about. She blushed and explained that she had heard my mom say that she was going to spank me when my mom got back from shopping!

In a way it was very nice of her to send her friend home but having to hear my sister announce my spanking and make open reference to how easy it was to hear the sounds of me being spanked embarrassed me greatly.

On the other hand, there were times we all got into trouble together, I got spanked, then felt sorry for my sisters as they suffered a week or more of being grounded while was free to have fun. Though once when they complained I "joked" that maybe they should just ask for a spanking instead.
They both looked horrified! "No WAY" the youngest blurted, "spankings sound terrible!"....



I knew a girl growing up who lived in a blended family. I believe the other parent had 4 or 5 kids (all girls), and my friend was an only child. It was a very small house, so there was really no privacy. There were 3 girls per bedroom, basically. Anyway, the I knew girl had to do all the chores...the dishes, and lawn mowing and such, because I guess the other parent didn't believe in giving her kids those chores. And she was the only child who was spanked. She was spanked quite severely, bare, and definitely not in private (there really was no privacy in their house) when she misbehaved. The other girls were not spanked at all.

She ended up being pretty emotionally devastated by the whole thing. She almost felt like a slave (that's how she described it), since she had to do all the chores, was beaten, etc. I was a few years older than her and just a friend, so I guess she felt she could discuss her situation with me. I don't know what ever happened to them, as they moved away, but I hope for the girl's sake that they got everything straightened out.

I also dated a girl back in high school who was spanked, while her sisters weren't all that often. She was the oldest of 3, and while they were all spanked at some point in their lives, when the girls would get in trouble, her mom would normally spank her in front of the rest of the sisters (to make an example of her), while they would get sent to their rooms and were maybe or maybe not grounded or such. Often times, nothing happened to them. When she got in trouble by herself, she was spanked in front of them, and when they all got in trouble, she was spanked in front of them. Really didn't matter. She was the oldest, thus was supposed to know better, and act more responsibly. All the girls would be called into the living room, she would be stripped nude, bent over the ottoman in the middle of the room, and spanked.

I can remember many a night that she would come over and be in tears for hours because she had been spanked and humiliated in front of her sisters. It greatly affected her. She was a wonderful girl too. She was always really good, polite, sweet. I'm all for punishing kids, but she certainly didn't deserve any of that.



My strict religious parents fully believed spanking our bare bottoms was their Christian duty and they were proud of that fact.
My mother, especially, was keen on telling people that we got spanked. Even when we got complimented on our good behavior, Mother would announce that her daughters behaved OR ELSE...adding that taking us over her lap for a spanking kept us in line.

Mother would share this with complete strangers - me standing there cringing - and with relatives/family friends Mother was more direct, often describing spankings we'd recently received or were about to get. I recall standing in the corner, waiting to be spanked, with Mother on the phone telling my Aunt  that she was about to roast my bare rump with a wooden spoon.

And teacher/parent conferences were shameful as Mother would assure all my teachers, in my presence, that any reported school trouble would mean a panties-down punishment for me at home!



I watched one of my neighbors getting a bare bottom spanking. I was amazed watching her pale skinned bottom, which was in sharp contrast to the brown skin on her legs and back, turn pink and then red as she lay kicking and crying over her mother's knee. From that point on, I couldn't help but be curious as to how red my skin got when mom spanked my bare bottom. So whenever I could, after getting a spanking, I'd go back to my room, stand on my chair, turn my back to my dresser and look at my bottom in the mirror. I was amazed to see how different I looked after each spanking. Depending of course, on what was used, how hard I was spanked, and the severity of my spanking. My butt ranged from a few pink splotches and prints from a hand spanking, to deep red stripes from a belt or even being red all over from the paddle, hairbrush or flyswatter. My flyswatter spankings, while painful almost made me laugh when I looked at the red "waffle" patterns covering me.

 I often was involved in spanking games with kids of both genders as a kid and into my mid-teens. Sometimes, those games were nothing more than taking turns spanking each other's bare bottom and then comparing to see who's butt was the reddest.



When I was 8 or 9, my Aunt switched from her hand to a hairbrush (she used a strap once but that left a welt, so she switched to a brush). When she decided I needed a spanking from that age on, if I begged to try to get out of it entirely and promised to be good, it would rarely work and she would use her brush. But begging for her to not use her brush on me worked better and I would say after she used that brush for the first time, maybe I got maybe a dozen more with her brush and half dozen with her hand (my last spanking was a few months before I turned 13). Every single spanking she ever gave me was bare bottom. Her response to my protests about that (I would usually be wearing pajamas at that point) was "your pajama bottoms didn't misbehave - it's the child inside them who did!" Hard to argue with that.

   

Once the crying started, whether before or during the spanking, my mom would say, "I'm gonna give you something to cry about." One time while spanking my sister when she was seven or eight. Mom had her over her knee and had already given her several swats on the bare bottom and my sister was crying. Mom used the "give you something to cry about" line and my sister sobbed, "You already did." Mom stopped for a second, grabbed the hairbrush off the end table and REALLY gave her something to cry about.



My friend Caroline and I used to occasionally play spanking games when I was staying at her house for a weekend, or vice-versa - turnabout to pull down our pyjamas and take an over-the-knee bare bottom hand-spanking from the other. From what I remember, we were aged about eight to ten. We were only caught once, when another friend, Lorraine, was staying, too. Caroline's mum caught us in mid-game, me over Lorraine's knee and her daughter laughing. She told us something to the effect that, if we were so fond of spanking, maybe she'd play too, and went away to fetch her slipper.

She also decided to make a phone-call. Caroline's mother and mine already had an agreement that they could spank each other's daughters when it was deserved, and now Lorraine found herself part of the club. We were then taken one at a time through to Caroline's parents' bedroom,and very thoroughly slippered on our bare backsides. It was wasn't the last time we played our game, but we were always careful not to get caught afterwards.



I played spanking games from the time I was three or four up through my teens. I played them with both girls and with family members (including my brother, sister and a couple of cousins) and friends (boys and girls). For the most part until my teens they involved role playing games like house or school. Sometimes I was the adult giving the spankings, other times I was the child being spanked. The spankings were always administered bare bottom.

The only times I was ever "caught" was when I was four. My brother and I were playing house in our bedroom with the girls who lived next door. They, like my brother and I, were seven and four. My brother and the oldest girl would be the parents and the younger girl and I would be the kids. I was over the older girl's knee with my pants and underwear down getting a spanking and she was scolding me for being a bad boy. My brother was spanking the younger girl also bare bottom over his knee. Then hearing the noise, our dad walked in. He asked what we were doing and the older girl said, "We're playing house and Gary's been a bad boy." I was scared laying over her lap with my bottom bare already, thinking we were about to get some real spankings." But dad just chuckled and said, "I see. Well after this maybe you should think about playing something else." Then he closed the door and went back downstairs." Nothing more was said about it.

The second time was when the four of us were playing in the shed behind our apartment building. We had turned it into a playhouse of sorts and were in their playing with the neighbor girls. That time their mom caught us. She wasn't quite as understanding and decided to spank her daughters. Mom heard the commotion and saw her with the youngest girl over her knee getting ready to spank her. She told mom what she caught us doing, and mom actually talked her out of spanking us. She said, "when they are bad we spank them that way. It only makes sense they would do it the same way. They're just imitating what we do." So their mom let the little girl off her lap and as she was pulling her panties up, she suggested we find other games to play. By the way, we continued playing spanking games with them until we moved to Kentucky in 1965.



The only time I got caught eavesdropping on a real spanking was at a cousin's house (one of my dad's neices). My cousin Margaret who was twelve at the time was misbehaving and back-talked her mom. My aunt (dad's sister) announced she had earned herself a bare bottom spanking and took her to the master bedroom. I was ten at the time and couldn't resist trying to see. I went down the hall saying I needed to go to the bathroom. Well on the way to the bathroom, I stopped by my aunt's bedroom where I could hear my cousin pleading to keep her panties up. The door was ajar, so I was actually able to peek in.

Sure enough I watched as Margaret pulled her pants and panties down and lay across my aunt's lap. I got a very good view of her bare bottom as the hairbrush hit it over and over. I was so engrossed in what I was seeing and hearing, I didn't notice my mom came down the hall until she yelled "Gary Steven, what do you think you're doing"? I was so started I literally fell through the door. My aunt, totally shocked, stopped spanking my cousin and let her up. Margaret was standing rubbing her bottom and crying while my mom chewed me out for being a peeping tom then said maybe I need a good spanking for peeping.

I started crying as she asked my aunt if she could borrow the brush. With my aunt and my still crying cousin watching, mom made me strip from waist to knees and lay across the end of the bed. She blistered my butt good and scolded me between swats. After what seemed like an hour she finally stopped and let me pull my pants up. I ran outside bawling and went out to the car. While I was out there, my cousin who was still sniffling from her own spanking came out to talk with me. She asked me why I was peeking in on her and we ended up talking for a little while. We even shared some of our spanking stories with each other. Then went out back to talk some more. While out back, we each pulled our pants back down to compare how red our butts were.



My daughter did play spanking games with her little girlfriends. Starting at about seven or eight and going until they were twelve or thirteen. I know from times when I had overheard them or walked in on them while they were playing, they often did spanke each other bare. On the couple of occasions when I walked in on them, they would look frightened at being caught. I would apologize for interrupting and tell them just be careful and don't really hurt each other. Then I would just go about my business.



It happened to me the Christmas I was 9 or 10 and my sister was 6 or 7. Sometime before Christmas my sister came to me and started questioning Santa Claus. I don't recall the conversation, but she said something like "I hope he'd not real because I [and I can't recall what it was she did, but I think maybe she didn't tell me except that it was something she'd been forbidden to do] and Santa won't bring me presents."

Now Mom had enlisted my help in trying to keep the secret alive particularly since our 2 or 3 yer old brother definitely still believed. So on Christmas morning I sneaked down early and put a switch into Maggie's stocking so she'd think Santa must have done it because Mom didn't know.

On Christmas morning, Maggie didn't even know what it was in her stocking, and I the smart big brother told her. Whereupon I was hauled out of the room by my mother since who else could have played that horrible trick.

I told her the story and she decided that my motives were good so I didn't get the spanking I thought I was going to. Mom went back and told Maggie that Santa had left the switch as a reminder to all of us to behave ourselves.



I must have been around 8 or 9, and I had 'embarrassed' Mum in front of her friends by playing too loudly I think it was. She rushed me home and gave me the 'wait 'till your father gets home' speech, but later on in the day she instead just burst in on me in the bath, yanked me out and wailed away on my bottom right there. Being spanked with a wet bottom was agonising.

I remember later on my Mum mentioned that she knew from first hand experience how much worse it was, and I think that's what changed her mind that day. She saw an opportunity to really get me for embarrassing her so she took it.



Most times growing up when I did something wrong I could usually predict what the punishment would be. From the ages of 5 to 11 or so I knew most serious offenses would end up in my backside getting bared and spanked. That is just the way it was in our house. My mother was like a mini version of Roosevelt in her belief of 'walk softly but carry a big stick' With that said there were certain offenses like bickering or making a mess that would result in a lecture or some room time However I guess one Sunday afternoon my younger brother and I pushed our mother too far with our constant bickering and threats of what we were going to do to each other. She burst into the dining room where we were clearing the table after a Sunday brunch and proceeded to spank my younger brother in front of me all the while we lecturing that she had had more then enough of his/mine fighting and acting up.Once his backside was crimson she told him to stand by the dining table and then she took me over her knee while flipping my skirt up and my knickers down to my knees and began the combination of a lecture while turning my bare bottom crimson. After she was done and we were both in tears she left us to finish our chore of clearing the table with a promise that one more argument today would result in a very very difficult time in sitting down for school Monday morning. I guess we learned that mother had her limits even for the most childish of behaviour that day.



For my ninth birthday I got a pocket knife with the usual cautions about how and where it was to be used. Some time that summer the first three letters of our last name got scratched into the side of the house.

My mother ordered me to turn over my knife to her. I insisted I hadn't done the defacing, but got convinced to retrieve the knife. I couldn't find it in my dresser drawer where it was kept, but my mother didn't believe me and I got a spanking.

The next day or perhaps a couple of days later, I found my knife in my sister's room. I got my revenge by partially chewing some bubble gum and stomping it into the living room rug. Since I didn't like gum, and my little brother was too young for it, my sister naturally got the blame and I felt vindicated when she got spanked.



One time one of my daughter's friends asked if she could borrow my paddle (a paddle shaped cutting board). I asked why and she told me that she her sister and my daughter were playing house and my daughter needed something to spank them with. I didn't let them borrow it, because I didn't want any of them to really hurt each other. I did overhear my daughter telling her friends, "You've both been bad and I'm going to spank you. Pull your panties down and bend over the bed." I heard what sounded like bottoms being smacked and fake crying. Rather than interrupt them, I just went about my business.



my first school paddling in kindergarten another girl pushed me and i pushed back. the teacher sent us to the office. some older boys and girls were waiting for punishment it was a busy time in the office. i went to a christian school the went from k4 to 12th grade. we heard a lot of paddlings we were in k4 and scared. finally it was our turn the ap was nice to us he explianed that we would get 2 licks with a ping paddle not a big paddle. he called in the witness. i had to go first i had to bend over and put my hands on the hands on the wall the two licks hurt like a spanking my parents would give i cried i had to stay in the room while the other girl got her licks. the ap gave us tissue to dry our eyes and sent us back class. we became friends later best friends still best friends. we earned other spankings together but never for pushing.



One of my friends knocked over an entire rack of clothes. She and her sister were trapped in the center of this giant heap. What a riot if you didn't have to sort it all out. True slap stick comedy. Unfortunately for my friend, no one found it funny. She knew she was in big trouble and when her mom and the store authorities all arrived, she had the dumb idea to deny that it was really HER mom who was claiming to be her mom. This lead to an identification crisis but her mom had photos in her wallet and that settled whether or not it was really her child. Then the clean up. And, once home the promised "such a spanking that you will never forget it!"



When I was about eight, I had my first - and well-deserved - spanking from my friend Caroline's mother. Caroline's family were spending the whole summer by the seaside in a rented cottage and I was allowed to stay with them. The first few days, the weather was terrible and Caroline and I were tired of playing board games in the house or wandering around the beach in our raincoats. So we decided to hitch-hike into the nearest town, which had lots of amusements.

We'd only been standing by the side of the road for a few minutes, when a Police car stopped. Caroline and I found ourselves in the Police station, nervously waiting for her mother to collect us. When she arrived, she asked a policewoman to have a word, just to tell us how dangerous hitch-hiking had actually been. This very stern faced woman promptly sat us both on a table and gave us a very scary lecture on what might happen to little girls who took lifts from strangers. By the end, we were both in tears and so was Caroline's mum.

That, of course, wasn't the end of it. When we returned to the cottage, Caroline's mum phoned mine and asked if she ought to deal with me - and if so, what was mum's favoured punishment - or should she take me home. Predictably, mum said that I ought to be dealt with exactly the same way as Caroline - and that I could expect a sore bottom at the end of the holiday. What was more, from that point on, Caroline's mum was told she should feel free to punish me any time I was at their house.

So I found out that Caroline's mum had similar ideas to mine. Two pairs of knickers came down, the slipper was produced and two little girls were very sorry. It wasn't the last time that holiday - or afterwards - I found myself bare-bottomed over her knee, either. Caroline, in turn caught a few good spankings from my mum over the years. Our last shared experience was aged fourteen, I think, when my mum caught us with a can of beer and that was a big no-no...

Another friend, Lorraine, was also spanked bare bottom on occasion by both my mum and Caroline's. I never fell foul of Lorraine's mum, however (I'm glad, because she favoured a wicked-looking over-sized wooden spoon).



Was anyone ever spanked on their birthday? I don't mean the traditional, ritual sort (which isn't very common in the UK), but a proper punishment?

It happened to me once, during my 11th birthday party. Mum had insisted that my cousin, who I roundly hated, should be invited for the sake of family harmony. That was a very bad idea, as each time we met, we'd invariably quarrel or just plain fight, and both ended up with a smacked bottom.

Sure enough, on the day of the party, we argued as usual and started fighting. Lynn was a hair puller, I was more likely to punch her on the nose, but mum quickly separated us and dragged us upstairs. Then it was into her bedroom one at a time, and across her knee, for a long, hard bare bottom tanning with her hairbrush.

My friends could probably hear us getting spanked downstairs, but it wasn't a big issue. Most of us had our backsides warmed when we misbehaved and had often been around when one of the other girls got spanked. What really annoyed me at the time was the fact that I'd been punished because mum asked my cousin to the party, when a moment's thought should have told her what would happen - or so my child's mind thought.

Years later, Lynn is actually one of my best friends and we still joke about the many spankings we received together.

   

I always liked it when my sister was being spanked. I would sit in the living room and pretend to be watching TV after hearing her spanking announced. I would sit there and listen as she pleaded all the way down the hall to not get spanked. The door to their room would close. There would be quiet as her panties were pulled down and then mom or dad would lecture her on her misbehavior after which came the words "Get across my knees." There were usually a few words of promise to be good and please don't spank me and than the sounds of the hairbrush as the spanking started. Shortly thereafter came her howls and crying. When it was over there was quiet while she was helped up, and then her panties were pulled up. There were hugs and mom or dad left the room and the hairbrush was put away until next time.
There sat I smuggly feeling happy that it was not I that felt the hairbrush.
I could never admit that the reason I was in the living room was to hear her spanking. I'm sure that many if not all siblings quietly listen to a spanking being given in their house and being happy in the fact it was not them. To me now it probably had something to do with sibling rivalry knowing that miss smartypants was over a parents' knee and the hairbrush was busily warming her bottom and not mine.



Mum didn't only discuss her daughters' discipline with like-minded parents. I was informed, in detailed terms, of my impending fate in front of my Girl Guide leader, shopkeepers, the priest and any number of people. Mum always made a point of stressing the fact that it was a bare-bottom spanking I'd get, regardless of age.

One occasion I particularly remember was being dragged along to a Parents-Teachers Evening, where the old dragon (who didn't like me, or me her) informed my mother that I often misbehaved in her class. To my horror, my mum turned to me and said "it's pants down and a red bottom for you when we get home, young lady".

That meant pants in the UK sense of underwear, of course, and I was mortified. It was one thing being spanked on my bare bum by mum, dad, assorted Aunts, or even my friend's mothers. It was quite another to have the teacher know that I was punished that way. On a few occasions when I pushed the limits after that, all the teacher had to say was "I'll phone your mum, and you know what you'll get!" Then my other cheeks instantly turned red.



I was about five and had been at school for about two weeks. I arrived home about an hour late, after playing with friends. In those days, it was quite common even for the youngest children to make their own way to and from school and it was only about a twenty-minute walk.

I arrived home to find a worried and also angry mother, who sent me to my room with the words "I think you're old enough for a proper spanking now, young lady", or something to that effect, while my little sister was sent out to play in the back garden. I was sitting nervously on my bed waiting, while she phoned around, having asked various neighbours and friends to keep an eye out for me. I, meanwhile, had a good idea what she meant, having seen two of my slightly older cousins go across my Aunt's knee, for a bare bottom spanking.

Sure enough, that's what she had in mind. Mum sat down on the bed, lifted my school skirt and pulled down my panties, while I pleaded for mercy. Later, I became much more stoic, but this was anew and scary experience. After the a lecture on how naughty I was to maker her worry, she then proceeded to turn my little backside a very pretty shade of pink. Afterwards, I was told that this would now be the norm when I did something wrong.



I was 4 or 5. Mom and I were at the grocery store the day after I'd been to the circus for the first time. I saw a rather large woman standing in the check out line, and not knowing any better, made some wise crack like "Mommy, the Fat Lady is here!" Mom and the lady both turned beet red. "I'm so sorry, ma'am," my mom apoligized. Mom apologized, scolded me, made me apologize. She then told me that that was a different woman and that I was going to get a good spanking when we got home. True to her word, when we got home I was bare bottomed, put over mom's lap, and spanked - 8 or 10 licks (mom's tradition-two swats per age).



I know as a toddler I got lots of swats on my bare bottom, but my first real spanking I got that I can remember was when I was 5 years old. I stripped my shorts and panties off and ran over to the neighbors' backyard sprinkler and was playing in it naked. Mom came over and grabbed my hand and walked me home spanking my wet, bare little bottom all the way with a ruler. By the time we got to my room my bottom was stinging and I was crying but mom just laid me on my tummy and added a few hand spanks. I was one very sorry little girl but as I lay crying and talking to my dolly the sting went away and my bottom had a nice warm tingle to it. From then on I was scared of her spankings but hoping to get that nice warm tingly feeling afterwards.

   

Anyone ever say something to their parents that you knew would end in a spanking, as soon as the words were out of your mouth?

Once when I seven, I remember having a mild argument with mum about something (I think she wanted me to wear a dress to visit a neighbour, while I wanted to wear something more suited to playing outside and getting mucky, as usual). I'd heard an older boy a school telling another to f*** off and, having no idea what it meant, told my mother to do exactly that. For good measure, I also flipped her the good old-fashioned British two-finger salute.

From the look on mum's face, I immediately knew I'd done and said the wrong thing. Two seconds later, my knickers were around my knees, and I was across her lap getting a lecture about language and signs little girls should never use. Then her hand came down on my bare backside - a lot.



My older sister Eliza and I both had the view that if you do things that you know would get you in trouble and your sibling doesn't say anything, you owe your sibling that same courtesy. Those things were pretty minor, usually stuff like reading under the covers with a flashlight or sneaking around the house late at night, taking a bit of junk food from the kitchen without permission, or disobeying a punishment (i.e. watching tv after having the privilege taken away for a period of time). I might have tattled on my sister a few times out of spite, but most of the time we had an understanding and permitted each other to get away with small stuff as long as it wasn't too often.

My younger brother Chris was the total opposite. He would expect Eliza and me to cover for him, yet he would frequently tattle on us girls for things, even after promising that he wouldn't say anything. He was completely obnoxious about it, smirking and doing a dramatic telling of whatever misdeeds my sister and I had committed. Sometimes we would try to retaliate by mentioning things he had done, but my mom did not care since it was in the past. Not only did he tell on us, but he also took pleasure in hearing us get spanked or grounded. My mom would even reward him sometimes for coming to her with information on what we had been up to, which only encouraged him to be worse about the whole thing.

One incident that was particularly unfair was one summer when the three of us walked to a nearby lake to go swimming. Eliza and I were old enough to go without a life jacket, but Chris was still supposed to wear one. Even though he had basic swimming skills, it was deep where we were swimming. After taking the fifteen minute walk to the lake, Chris realized that he had forgotten the life jacket. He was distraught and I was angry with him because we only had a bit of time that day and couldn't go back for it. Eliza calmed us both down and said that he should just go swimming without it, and we would all stay together and watch out for him. We all went swimming and had a great time, absolutely no problems without the life jacket. During the walk home, it was agreed by the three of us that no one would mention Chris not having a life jacket. I was hesitant to trust Chris's word, but I decided that he probably wouldn't tell since the incident was his fault.

Well, he kept his word for about a day. The next night my mom called Eliza and me into the living room to talk to us. She said that Chris had come to her and said we told him to swim without a lifejacket. He had given her the impression that swimming without his lifejacket had scared him and that we forced him to, even though he was fine and had agreed to it. Eliza and I protested and said that Chris had been in on it too, but in the end we both got a spanking, and Chris got nothing.



When I was a little girl, I didn't really care about whether my dad or my mom spanked me. A spanking was a spanking, and it hurt either way. After about age eight, I started to feel self-conscious around my dad when it came to matters involving my body. I did not want to change my clothes in front of him or have him spank me on my bare bottom. He would threaten to spank me, and all I could think about was how uncomfortable it made me (and not in the way intended). I was fine around my mom, but I felt embarrassed or even resentful anytime my dad mentioned spanking.



Back in the 60's particularly parents had NO problem with spanking their kids and most of the spankings I saw and nearly all of them I got were done on the bare bottom. I even saw a few done that way in school (and got one bare bottom spanking in school myself). Also games with other kids both relatives and friends included spankings (often given bare). I didn't like getting the real thing, and I don't know if I can say I enjoyed watching other kids getting spanked, but when it did happen, I couldn't take my eyes off of it. My real interest started at 8 when I watched my older cousin Carmen get a spanking from my aunt. We were all in the bedroom together and my aunt told us it was bedtime. Under her breath my cousin muttered "shoot" and my aunt thought she said something else. She grabbed her off the bed, sat down and right in front of all of us, took Carmen over her knee, raised her skirt, pulled her panties down and gave her a long hard spanking by hand. I was standing on the bed when it happened and literally had a "spanker's eye view" watched totally fascinated as her chubby bottom turned pink, to red to dark red. Carmen kicked and cried like a baby as my aunt spanked her and literally kicked her panties off.  The image of that spanking was forever "burned into my mind's eye." After that I would watch spankings I saw with total fascination, even if I was going to get one too. I began to watch for them on tv shows and in movies, reading spanking references in books etc.. My interest was set in stone when I got a bare bottom spanking from a teacher I had a crush on at eleven.



When I was about five or six a girl my parents got to babysit me spanked me for misbehaving, she mustn't have been older than fifteen or so at the time. I was arguing with her about something, and after a few minutes she just gave up and told me "your parents said I could smack you if you didn't listen to me," and then gave me a spanking over my panties with her hand.

It didn't really hurt, but I was so shocked that it made me cry my eyes out and listen to her for the rest of the night.

The next day I asked my Dad why he let that girl spank me, and I found out she lied to me and my parents had never given her that permission. Mum and Dad never asked her to babysit me ever again, but other than that I don't think she was ever punished for it.



One of the recollections that I have where my mom blabbed to my friends mom that she spanked me happened when I was about 6. My friend and I had a play date after we got out of school. I had been looking forward to it all day long.

When I got home, I noticed that my younger sister had a bag of candy which she received from a nursery school party. I asked my mom if I could have some, but she said no and explained that it was my sister's. When my mom wasn't looking, I grabbed the bag of candy and began to eat some and share some with my friend. While I was in the process of opening the 5th candy wrapper, my mom caught me. She dragged me over to the big living room chair, and she quickly flipped me over her knee. She lifted up my dress and yanked off my panties and threw them on the ground. Then, right in front of my friend she gave me a long hard bare bottom spanking with her hand. When she was finally finished, she stood up, carried me to my room, and threw me onto my bed. She told me that my play date was finished. My sister would get to go play and go swimming in our pool with my friend, but I could not. I was being punished, so I had to stay in my room.

With my pants and panties still off and my dress still up and exposing my sore red bottom, I sobbed into my pillow. I could hear my sister and my friend laughing. It sounded like they were having a great time.

Later on that evening, my friend's mother came over to our house to pick her up. I overheard my mother apologizing on my behalf for not being able to play with my friend. She explained that what I had done. Then, my mom announced, "I'm afraid I gave Kimmy a hard bare bottom spanking for disobeying me." My friend's mother laughed and stated that she understood. I was embarrassed!

When my friend and her mother left, my mother entered my bedroom with my panties in her hand. I was tearstained and still clutching my stinging bottom. My mother helped me put my panties back on, and then she told me that my punishment was over and that I could come out of my room.



I remember begging my parents not to take off my panties, but they almost always did. I remember telling my mom not to take them off, that I was too old. My mom explained to me that it wouldn't be a real spanking unless my pants and panties were off. She said that she wanted my bottom to be sore, and with my pants up, I wouldn't be less likely to feel the effects. I offered to let her spank me over my panties instead, but my mom added that the more embarrassed I was the better because she wanted the spanking to have a big impact on me.

A little after that spanking, I earned another spanking for getting a bad progress report. My mom had me over her knee, and when she was attempting to take my pants down, I was putting up too much of a struggle with my mom, and my mom kind of relented. She told me that she would give me the choice. She would give me a bare bottom spanking with her hand, or she would spank me with the hairbrush with my pants up instead. I chose the hairbrush. (Normally when my mom spanked me with the brush, she would spank me on the bare bottom, but I guess getting a bad progress report was bad enough for a bare bottom spanking, but not enough for a bare bottom spanking with the hairbrush.) I was in tears after my mom spanked my clothed bottom with the brush, and sure I was embarrassed by being over my mom's knee getting a spanking like a little kid, but I definitely wasn't as embarrassed before, during, or after the spanking.

I was spanked up until I was in college. Whenever my parents spanked me with their hand, they always had my pants and panties down or off. If my parents used an implement it varied. I think it depended on how bad I was. The spankings that were always the worst for me were the bare bottom spankings. I was definitely ashamed and embarrassed after.



The majority of outdoor spankings that I was given were while we were on car trips traveling. There was a time when I was 10, and I was fighting in the car with my siblings. I was the last one to throw a punch after getting several warnings not to fight. I should've listened, but I didn't. As a result, when we got to the nearest rest area, my dad slammed on the brakes, hauled me out of the car, and dragged me over to a picnic bench. He pulled down my pants and panties, and he told me that he didn't care who could see because he was sure that everyone would agree that I deserved the spanking. My desperate protests fell on deaf ears. When my dad was finished with me, my bottom was on fire. I stood up briefly forgetting where I was. It didn't take too long before I realized that I was in an area infested with a bunch of strangers, so still bawling, I finally pulled up my pants and panties, and I ran to the car as quickly as I could, trying to avoid eye contact with any strangers who were nearby.

Another spanking happened for swearing at my parents during a disagreement. My dad veered the car to the side of the road. He took off his belt, got out of the car, opened the door to where I was sitting, and he yanked me out of the car. My dad escorted me into the woods behind some trees. He tugged my pants and panties down to my ankles, and he leaned me over a large log. He held me down firmly in place while he whipped my poor bottom soundly with his belt.

There were other outdoor spankings that I got that weren't on the road. When we lived in Florida. We had a pool in the backyard. My sister and I were playing in the pool. I was 8, and my sister was 6. We had a splash fight that got a bit too carried away. I dunked my sister, and my mother witnessed me. When she told me to get out of the pool, I dunked my sister again. My mother sternly told me to get out of the pool, so I did. Before I knew it, she grabbed a hold of my arm and marched me over to the pool chair where she had been sitting. Soaking we bathing suit and all, my mother turned me over her knee. Before I knew what was happening, my bathing suit was off. My mother proceeded to giving me a well deserved spanking right then and there. Fortunately, the backyard was fenced in, but I'm sure the neighbors could have heard the sound of the spanking and the cries.

Another outside spanking happened when I was 11. I was told to go inside, but I refused. My dad informed me that if I didn't get inside right away, he would pull down my pants and spank me right in the front yard. I didn't heed his warning, so he carried me kicking and screaming like a baby to the front steps. He sat down on the second step, pulled down my pants and panties and gave me a spanking just like he had promised.

Once I got mad at my sister, so I went to the tool shed where our bikes were stored. (We lived in Maine at the time.) I found my sister's bike, so I purposely slashed her bike tires with a saw that I discovered in the shed. I ran inside to tell my sister that she wouldn't be going anywhere because her tires were slashed. She went crying to my parents. My dad went out to the shed with both of us trailing behind him. Of course, I was denied everything the whole way there. My dad knew that I was the culprit. He told my sister to get go back into the house, and not to worry because he would buy her new tires. Then he scowled at me, "Your backside will be paying for those tires, young lady!" Then, without another word, he lunged toward me, forcing me all the way into the shed with him. There was an old card table chair inside of the shed, so he sat down on it. Normally, my dad would be screaming, but this time, he didn't say anything. His actions were plenty! I was crying, but I didn't want to be too loud because I didn't want the neighbors to know what was going on. My dad tossed me over his lap, and to my horror, he took my pants and panties off and angrily threw them on the floor of the shed. I was wearing flip flops, so it made it easier for him to take my pants and panties completely off. The minute I heard the sound of my dad's belt clicking and then going through the belt loop of his pants, I began to cry. Soon after that, my dad and his belt were hard at work. After the spanking my father told me get my clothes back on, and then I had to sit on the chair where my spanking had occurred and think about why he had spanked me. I sat out there for a few until close to supper time.

My other sister, who was about 10 at the time came out to get me. She told me that my dad said that I could go back inside the house. I didn't want to discuss the spanking, but she was very happy to talk about it. "I could hear it from my room. I could hear you crying. Did Daddy spank you with the belt? I could hear whack sounds. It didn't sound like he used his hand. Did he pull down your pants, too? Mommy was listening to it, and she shut her eyes tightly every time she heard a whack sound. I asked Mommy if she felt sorry for you, and she said she did in a way, but in a way she didn't." Still teary eyed, I told my sister to shut up while we were walking into the house.



We were on a road trip, and my sister Katherine and I got into a shouting match which led to pinching, hitting, and kicking. I was 11, and Katherine was 13. My parents warned us to cut it out, but we didn't. My dad gave us several more warnings. The last warning was, "I'm going to pull this car over and spank out of next one who I hear or who your mother sees fighting!" We were both quiet for about a minute, and then out of nowhere, my sister slapped me across the face and pulled my hair.

My dad swerved the car over to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. "Katherine, you'd better keep your mouth shut. I'm going to whale the living tar out of you! Don't you dare hit your sister or pull her hair! I warned you, young lady! Didn't I? My dad angrily got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He opened the back door on the side where Katherine was sitting. He yanked her out of the car.

My sister was loud. I could hear her yelling. "No! Please! No! I'm sorry! Please. I won't hit Charlotte again! Please! I promise! NO! Not here! Please, I'm too old!" This was too good to be true. Happily, I looked outside of the window. I saw my dad taking off his belt. Oh, Katherine was going to get just what she deserved!

I tried to watch, but my dad took her too far back into the woods behind a bunch of trees. I could only hear faint sounds of my sister's screams! "NO! NOT THE BELT! NOT THE BELT! PLEASE! I'M SORRY! I'LL BE GOOD! I PROMISE!...Please! I'm too old! No! NO! Please! Keep them up! No! Not here!" Then screaming became howls, and then loud cries, which meant that my dad's belt was probably hard at work.

After what seemed like an eternity, my dad and my sister returned to the car. My dad still had his belt in his hand. "Katherine, I don't want to hear a peep out of you! You'd better knock those tears off right now, young lady!" my father warned her as he put his belt back on. "Now get in the car, young lady! You're not going to get away with trying to ruin our trip!" My sister was tear-stained and sniffling as she entered the car door. Her neatly brushed blonde hair was now a wild mess. I could see some pieces leaves from the trees embedded in her blonde hair. She had snot running out of her nose. Her cheeks were stained and wet from crying. Her hair was also damp. With one hand my sister opened the door and with the other, she was clutching her tender bottom. I noticed that my sister's pants were still unbuttoned and her zipper was down, but I thought I should wisely keep my mouth shut. Katherine closed the door behind her and sat down shifting from side to side like she was having a hard time getting comfortable. After Katherine buckled her seat belt, my mother loving looked over at her. "Katherine, I'm sorry that you were spanked at your age, but you were warned several times." Yep, I thought to myself, my big sister got exactly what she deserved.
 
 

Our Church teaches parents to spank for errors of the heart, but not errors of the mind. Meaning, in this case, that poor grades for genuine difficulty with the school subject matter should result in the parents helping their child with extra tutoring, etc., but never a punishment. But, if a teacher reports that the child is not handing in homework or goofing off in class and this behavior persists after a pointed discussion with the child, then a good spanking is in order! I was lucky as a youngster and never had any issues with learning/academics, but I once got a really hard hairbrush spanking from my mother after misbehaving in class and I never forgot that "lesson." Out of hundreds of disciplinary spankings growing up, that is probably the only one that left some light bruising. I also had to write an apology to the teacher and tell him that I had been spanked. One of my worst spankings ever - but well earned.

None of the schools I attended used corporal punishment. In elementary school the usual discipline was missing recess or standing in the corner. But, for really bad behavior (especially for students sent to the principal's office) then parents would be called. In most families this meant a spanking would be coming. This only happened to me once but it was memorable. Sharp lecture then pants and panties lowered by my mother (not off, just down to the knees or so), then over her lap for a good long spanking with the back of a hairbrush. It was the most sound spanking I had ever gotten up to that point (4th grade) and it felt like my bottom was on fire. When it was finally over and my pants were pulled back up by mom, I was made to sit (OUCH!) at the kitchen table and write an apology to my teacher. I remember that I was instructed to add a line to the effect that "I got a spanking and I promise I will not misbehave in class again."



My spankings always came after a short lecture about my misbehavior. My mother would be sitting on a chair or on the side of the bed depending on where I was going to be spanked, and I would be standing in front of her with panties still up. When the time came for my actual spanking is when my panties would come down. Unfortunately I was not always very cooperative with my spankings. I would try to pull away and so my mother would wind up trying to hold me in place with one hand while lowering my panties with her other hand. My protests never succeeded however and soon enough I would find myself over her lap getting every inch of my bare hiney lit on fire with her hand or hairbrush. I was usually very well behaved for a good solid week or so after one of those paddlings!

My parents read and implemented books like "Dare to Discipline" and in this philosophy if a child does not cry during a spanking that is considered to be defiance. Meaning, more spanking until the child shows an obedient heart. Actually, all of my spankings were plenty hard to induce tears and I was always crying after the first spank or two and promising to be good. Just about all spankings were bare bottom, over a parent's lap, and given with a sturdy wooden hairbrush or wooden spoon. Typically about 15 or so REALLY stinging smacks. So tears were a natural result, even up to my last spanking at about 13. Tears did not interfere with carrying out my deserved punishment. They just indicated that my spanking was having its desired result.

When I was very young I was sometimes spanked in front of others - for example if I misbehaved while one of my morher's friends was visiting, I would have my panties pulled down and go over my mother's lap the same as when we were alone. It didn't embarrass me too much at that age because in my experience all kids got spankings and it was just usual discipline for naughty behavior. I was spanked for discipline until about age 13 and around ages 10 to 12 I did begin to feel quite embarrassed at the idea of others knowing I had gotten a spanking, I think because I was beginning to feel too grown up for this type of punishment. Of course by that age I was only spanked in private and only by my mother (I got plenty of bare bottom spankings over daddy's lap as a younger child though!). However, the embarrassment would come when my mother would recount my misbehavior and punishment over the phone with her own mother. My mom and gramma were quite close and spoke by phone almost every night. My mother would use phrases like "Well, I had to paddle Emmie's fanny again this afternoon... If she wants to act like a 5 year old I'll keep spanking her like a 5 year old... There's nothing like a hot bottom to cite a hot head" and so on. Back then, being a good parent was considered being a strict parent and that meant administering a good hard spanking when needed. So my mother was proud to show her own mom that she was being a firm disciplinarian with me and my sister. But oh the embarrassment at overhearing those conversations, especially since my father and sister could also hear!

My sister and I weren't really sent to the corner after a spanking. We pretty much spent several minutes after each spanking bawling our eyes out and clutching our red bottoms, but not in a corner. On rare occasions however my mother would decide to stand us in the corner instead of a spanking, sort of the like the more modern "time out". If we ever dared to leave the corner without permission we would receive a good bare bottom spanking and then marched right back to the corner to finish out our punishment. I have to laugh when I hear friends complain that their children won't stay in time out. My mother would have fixed that problem easily with a dozen licks of a hairbrush on the offender's fanny.



My parents were staunch believers in corporal punishment as were just about all parents I saw growing up in "the old days." However, my father was a pediatrician and he taught that only the hand or a small paddle like a hairbrush or wooden spanking spoon should be used, especially on girls. My sister and I experienced all three many times on our bare rumps and all could be quite effective in imparting a red stinging bottom! Daddy mostly used his hand on our upraised bottoms after flipping up our dresses and turning us over his knee. Mother's favored behavior-correcting implement was her flat wooden hairbrush and for sure this hurt the most of all, both while the spanking was in progress and for a good part of the same day. But I think in terms of "stinginess" the wooden spoon was smaller than both hand and hairbrush and so produced a more stinging whiplike pain. Very rarely I received a few licks with the spoon on the backs of my legs and nothing ever compared to the sting of those extra spanks!

For me and my sister it was, "You're getting a spanking, young lady!" We didn't have to fetch the paddle or anything. If we were downstairs my mother would just take us by the arm to the kitchen and with her other hand she would pull out the wooden spoon. Or sometimes she would march us upstairs for a good dose of the hairbrush. She didn't put up with any nonsense and I don't think more than a week would go by without a spanking.

My mom or occasionally dad would sit on the edge of Their bed or sit on a kitchen chair while we stood in front of them and got a really brief lecture. Usually about 30 seconds or so, as in "sassiness in not acceptable in this house! You are getting a spanking!" My mom usually pulled our pants and panties down just enough to expose our bottom, about mid thigh. They believed in modesty but also believed in the power of a good bare bottom spanking. My father used to just tell us to pull down our own pants especially as we got old enough. After a good dose of the hairbrush or spoon we would be lifted of our spanker's lap and told to pull up our pants and finish crying in our bedroom. Sometimes I would just quickly pull my pants back up but not fasten them, just hold them up as I ran to my room. I would take them off completely once in private, take a look in my oval floor mirror to see how red my bottom was, and then dive under my bedcovers and let the cool sheets soothe my fanny a little bit while I finished my wailing.



One summer when I was 12 one of my friends came on vacation with us to the seashore. The two of us woke up early and left the motel room for the beach that was right outside while my parents and younger sister were still asleep. We were playing in the waves when my father got up and caught us. I was worried that we would both be spanked but when we got inside but my mother and father instead gave us a long scolding and banned us from the beach for the rest of the day. They said nothing about spanking and I was feeling relieved that we apparently weren't going to be spanked. But the next thing I knew my father pulled out the desk chair into the middle of our (the girls) room, took me by the arm, and pulled me over his lap. I got a serious whacking across my still-wet bottom (thankfully clothed). As always it ended with me crying like a baby and promising to behave if only he would cease the spanks that were raining down on my backside. Not only did my best friend see me spanked like a little girl but I'm sure the whole motel and beach heard the spanking and my sobs too. Embarrassing!! My friend didn't get a spanking but my father made sure she told her mother what had happened when they spoke on the phone later that night. My friend hung up the phone looking a bit scared and told me that her mother had promised her the licking of her life when she got home.



There was an older grandmotherly woman from our Church who sometimes babysat my baby sister and me, starting when I was in nursery school. My mother had given her permission to spank me if I was naughty and had warned me so. This lady was quite patient and I had never actually been spanked or otherwise punished by her, but that ended one day when I stamped my foot at her and told her to go home. I was probably 4 years old at the time. She looked shocked (kids in our Church did NOT talk back to adults) and then went into action, pulling my dress up and panties down and putting me over her lap for my first spanking by a grown up who was not my mother. She only used her hand but thoroughly blistered my fanny to the point that I was howling almost hysterically. When my mother got home she was given the bad report about my behavior and told the babysitter that I would be getting another spanking from my mother that would be so hard I would never dream of sassing her again. My mother pulled a wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer and right there and then bared my bottom and paddled my already red rear end so soundly that I have never forgotten it. These days such a spanking would likely be considered abusive and I admit I never once spanked my own children so hard. But, it sure did the trick and I don't think I sassed another adult for years afterward.

One time a new family with a girl and her two brothers joined our Church and the girl wound up in my classroom. She acted quite spoiled and her younger brothers were pretty unruly in Church and Sunday School. Some of the mothers in the congregation must have counseled those parents about discipline and spankings because about a month later the father marched one of the little boys out in the middle of a sermon when the boy refused to stop kicking the pew in front of them. A few minutes later they returned and the boy's face was red and he had both hands covering his bottom. I imagine his bottom was red too. Anyway, the boys started to behave themselves and made friends with the rest of the kids. Their older sister never really became close friends with me but we would talk on occasion, sometimes in school and sometimes after Church. She told me that she wished they had never joined our Church - she was happy for her younger brothers to finally be disciplined but in her mind she was too old for spankings and should have been immune. I think we were 9 or 10 years old. Apparently her mother had taken the wooden spoon to her bare bottom on several occasions as well as using it frequently on the backsides of her brothers. I was not sorry for her at all!



This incident I experienced during the summer of 1968, between 5th and 6th grades. I was vacationing with my cousin who is my age.

One early morning without thinking we went swimming in the ocean without telling anyone. This was a major offense that I now fully appreciate as an adult. We were having fun in the surf when my uncle appeared on the scene furious and yelling for us to come out of the water and to get in the cottage. Once there we were in the cottage, he sent us to our shared bedroom and told to wait for him there. My cousin was super scared and said she knew she was going to get a spanking. I could hardly believe my ears.

My uncle arrived a few minutes later with a ping pong paddle in his hand and I knew we were in big trouble. He scolded us for having gone swimming in the surf without permission. It was especially bad because there was no life guard on duty and the beach was officially closed. After a long scolding he proceeded to move a desk chair to the middle of the bedroom, grabbed my cousin by her arm and brought her over to the chair. He sat down and in one motion swept my cousin over his knee and quickly pulled down her swimming suit. My frantic cousin squealed loudly as my uncle proceeded to administer a sound stinging spanking to her bare bottom with the palm of his hand. I'm not sure how many swats she got but I would guess 20 to 25. Her butt was bright red when he was finished and my cousin was let up to dance around the room.

My uncle then turned his attention to me and commanded me to get over his knee. I felt totally helpless and simply did was I was told. When I was in place my uncle administered a much shorter spanking over the seat of my swimming suit. The spanking was still hard enough to deliver the message and it left me sobbing. I thought for sure we were both going to get paddled but my uncle left the room with the paddle in hand and told us not to leave the room until he said we could. My cousin and I cried our eyes out. About an hour later he returned to our room and we all spoke about the situation and my uncle made it clear that the next time we pulled a stunt like that, we'd both get a paddling on our bare fannies. He gave us both a hug and said he loved us and the spanking was never mentioned again until I returned home and my parents were told the whole story.

My parents apologized for my behavior, but they didn't punish me further figuring that the spanking I received was enough. I know my cousin received several more spankings from my uncle, including a couple with the paddle, but that is the only spanking I ever witnessed. It sure left a lasting memory. My cousin and I still laugh about that day. Ouch!

At that age I had not outgrown the possibility of getting spanked if my behavior warranted it, but I was generally a good kid and was spanked (aside from an occasional swat) a grand total of 4 times in my life. My cousin, on the other hand, was rather mischievous and got into trouble and was subsequently spanked many more times than me. I was vacationing at her family's cottage and going swimming that morning was her idea. I simply tagged along not paying attention to The RULE that permission was needed to swim in the ocean. So when I wrote "I couldn't believe my ears" I was referring to learning I was in big trouble and earned a spanking without really realizing that I had done something that bad. In my uncle's eyes, I was only an accomplice to the crime and thus received a rather light spanking compared to what my cousin received. My spanking was scary but not particularly painful, but I definitely got the message. Thankfully, neither one of us felt the ping pong paddle on our bare butts that morning. My uncle must have brought the paddle into the bedroom for dramatic effect or maybe to have it available if needed.



I'll never forget it...I got in a huge argument with my Mom over not being able to spend the night at a girlfriend's house. I called her a bitch and she dragged me by my ear into our bathroom. I was wearing a pair of elastic waist shorts which she whisked down along with my panties and she lit up my butt with her hairbrush. I was saying "I'm sorry!" with every other breath but that did not stall her in the least. She paused briefly to soap my mouth and then smacked my bottom maybe another 20 times super hard and lightning fast. I was then told I was grounded for the weekend and sent to my room after being allowed to rinse my mouth. When my Dad got home from work she told him about it and he came to my room with his belt and despite my pleas and protestations that I had already been punished proceeded to whip my already sore bottom. I think he took pity on me because he only gave me about ten licks but on an already stinging butt they still felt horrendous. He then made me come with him blubbering my eyes out and apologize to my Mom. I felt terrible for having called her that but at the time I think my poor bottom might have felt worse!



I went to a private Baptist middle school. The first time I got paddled was about a month after I started school there. I had a habit of talking in class and the teacher had warned me several times to stop doing it. One afternoon she told me to be quiet and asked me if I knew what happened to students that talked repeatedly in class. I just looked down but she said that they might have to go to the principal's office. Later that afternoon, at afternoon announcements, the school secretary called my name along with some other boy to report to the office after classes.

When I got there, there was another boy waiting and I was told to have a seat. The secretary took the boy into the principal's office and after a short time, I heard the sounds of the paddle being given. That's when I realized how much trouble I was in.

After she showed him out and gave him a note to take home to his parents to be signed, she took me in. The principal talked to me about paying attention in class and not talking out of turn. Finally he said that he was going to have to paddle my bottom. I started to cry but he told me to step over to a table across the office and remove my skirt and panties. I hesitated but the secretary told me not to keep him waiting. I went over to the table where I noticed two different paddles. I took off my skirt and panties and then he got up from his desk and came over and told me to bend over the table shoulder width apart and stick my bottom out.

I got three very painful swats with the smaller paddle that I later learned was from a paddle ball game called Jokari. I was bawling like crazy.

I had to take a note home to be signed which earned me a grounding for a week followed by another spanking from my father. Needless to say I kept my mouth shut in class after that.



The worst I have witnessed was probably when one of my friends was caned. They were from England (cool accent and all! ha!) and she was caned for more serious offenses. I had never heard of a cane, except from when she mentioned it very briefly.

We were probably 8 or 9 years old at the time, and her parents went shopping. She was not to go out, have friends over, etc., until she finished her chores and yard work. They had a very beautiful and well-kept yard, but she hated doing the work out there. When her parents came home, they were greeted by half-finished chores, and 4 friends in the house. Her parents were absolutely livid and started yelling at her.

Her dad told her she was going to be caned and she immediately burst into tears and begged. We all offered to help her with her chores, and he said the time for that was 2 hours ago.

While her dad went to get the cane, her mom had her strip, pulled a chair into the middle of the room, and bent her over the chair back, with her hands on the seat. Her dad came back, spent a couple minutes lecturing her, and absolutely tore into her with his cane. I have no idea how many times he whipped her with the cane, but she had welts from the top of her behind all the way to the back of her knees. Never saw anything like it in my life. She was sent to her room and we were sent home.



Our mom never hesitated to spank us. If we were out, she would find the nearest rest room or dressing room and hand spank our bare bottom. We were also told that when we got home to expect getting the brush. I will never forget the time I was getting tired of walking from store to store. I told mom several times that wanted to go home. Finally after enough times of saying I want to go home, mom turned to be with a solid swat to my bottom and said, if I hear that one more time, you are going to be sorry young lady. Well after thirty minutes I did say it, and mom drug me into the ladies rest room, sat down on a chair, bared my bottom and hand spanked me right there in front of whoever was in there. After my spanking I was told that was just the starter, that I could expect a worse spanking at home. Mom held true to her words.  After she had finished putting things away, she escorted me to her bedroom, with me pleading, and spanked my bare bottom good with her brush.



I got a paddling in first grade. I was 6 years old at the time. This was Texas, a time and place when teachers could still paddle kids themselves, and all the teachers had paddles in their desks. There was no need for paperwork and/or a lot of formalization. Teachers could do "on the spot" correction.

Like all schools, we had a rule against running in the hallway. We all knew the rule and received proper warning. One day, I got caught running in the hallway. I can't remember why I was running, but it wasn't for any good reason such as an emergency or anything. A teacher caught me. Apparently I had been warned a day or two before about running. I can't remember the exact words that were said because this was 30 years ago, but something to the effect of, "You have been warned and have continued to run in the hallway, and you have to get a paddling".

The teacher took me into an empty classroom and took out her paddle. When I saw the paddle, my stomach tied up in knots, and I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg her not to paddle me, but I remained silent. She told me she was going to give me one swat to help me remember not to be a bad girl and run in the hallway. She said something like, "I want you to bend over and put your hands on your knees". She even demonstrated for me by bending over herself and said, "like this".

I bent over and felt very nervous. She came over and said, "Keep your hands on your knees because I don't want to hit your hands". I braced myself. She then gave me one good swat across my little 6-year-old rear. It stung, and I cried a little bit. However, the pain was gone within a minute. It really didn't hurt that much. It was mostly my feelings that were hurt just because of the fact that I was in trouble. I stood back up, and the teacher told me that she better not ever catch me running in the halls again. She said if I did it again, that it would be *3* good swats. And I remember her saying, "And they will be good, hard ones too".

I never ran in the hallway again, and this was my only encounter with a wooden paddle at school. Fortunately, my parents never found out about this.



I was spanked at school once in 5th grade for cheating on a math test. The teacher sent me to the principal's office. The principal had me bend over and she spanked me with a leather strap and then sent me to stand in the corner in her outer office. After I stopped crying, she sent me back to class with a stern warning that if I cheated again, she would spank me even harder. I had no intention of telling my parents that I had been spanked at school and did not realize that the principal had called my mom. I got home and my mom was waiting for me with the belt and told me to go to my room immediately. When I asked why, she cracked that belt across my butt and told me that I knew exactly why and if I asked again she would take me back to school and spank me in front of the principal. I ran to my room crying knowing what was coming.

I got a very sound, very serious spanking on my bare buttocks and put to bed without supper for cheating on my test.



My mom once walked me home and spanked me all the way home. I had disobeyed her (again) and went to play in a construction site about 2 blocks from our house. When I didn't get home in time for supper, she came looking for me around the neighborhood. And she found me playing exactly where she had told me never to go--the dangerous construction site. She grabbed my arm and started dragging me home all the while telling me that she was so worried when I didn't get home for supper and that she was going to spank the daylights out of me for not minding. She stopped by a tree & I thought she was catching her breath and getting a grip. Instead, she broke off a tree limb, a switch and whacked me across my butt telling me to get moving. We walked home--I was in front crying and moving fast; Mom was behind moving equally as fast spanking my butt and legs with that switch. I will never forget that all the way home spanking with the switch. My dad did give me another spanking with the belt, but it was nothing compared to the switch!

When I got home, I was sobbing and saying I was sorry and would, of course, never disobey again. My dad was there waiting for supper and he was grouchy. As I recall, he asked my mom what happened. She told him that she'd found me playing at the construction site and that I needed a spanking for not minding. Just as I was going to say that I'd already had a spanking, my dad told me to go to my room, but I insisted on telling him that I'd already been spanked. He took my arm and propelled me into my room, took his belt off, and pulled my jeans and panties down, put me over his knee, and proceeded to spank the daylights out of me on my bare buttocks. It was one of the worse spankings he ever gave me. Mom was always more of a spanker than Dad.



Heard "don't make me stop this car!" many times growing up and our car was pulled over several times for one or more of me and my sisters to get spanked. Obviously this was on road trips; if anything happened in our car locally we were made to wait until we got home. But when we were in our car for long trips, if a rest stop was close by, someone would be promised a spanking and then the dreaded silence with a whimpering little girl would commence as we waited to pull off the road. Those spankings often happened in the bathroom by mom or right there at a picnic bench by either parent. If not then sometimes they would pull off on an exit and find a good place to stop but if we were on a back road my dad had no shame spanking a naughty bare behind on the side of the road.

Whenever we went on road trips it was known that mom's hairbrush was easily accessible but a hand spanking or worst of all a belt whoopin' from dad were all on the table.

The most memorable of these road trip spankings for me was when I was about 11. I was grumpy, anxious to get out of the car, being lippy. I was sitting behind my dad and we were on one of those back roads and I finally pushed him over the edge. He pulled our car off of the road and I knew I was in for a spanking, so when he got out of the car I locked the door, which did NOT help the situation. He unlocked the door and I stupidly locked it again. At that point he took off his belt and promised to spank me so hard to I'd be sore for the whole vacation if I locked the door one more time. I smartly did not but he yanked me out of the car and started wailing on my behind. I must have gotten a dozen licks before he slammed the door shut, yanked my shorts and panties down to my feet and had me put my hands on the door and bend over for the rest of my spanking. I think one of the reasons that sticks out to me is because an hour or so later we stopped at a gas station and we all got out to stretch our legs and I still had red welts on the back of my thighs and I was still made to get out and go to the ladies room with my mom and sisters and I was so embarrassed.



I would have to say my most memorable public spanking was at the swimming pool. My parents and sisters and I were at the pool on a hot summer day. I had some friends around and we weren't doing a good job listening to the lifeguards or our parents. I remember one of the lifeguards (who wasn't on the stands) talking to us twice and the second time my mom came over and the bratty teen girl lifeguard told her that we wouldn't stop running and being too aggressive around other kids and that we just wouldn't listen.

Mom had already spoken with me about calming down so I knew it was going to end badly. She grabbed my arm and promised the lifeguard I would not be a problem for them for the rest of the day and the rest of the summer. Mom swatted my wet one-piece-covered behind back to her chair to get her pool bag and she kept smacking my butt and legs all the way into the changing room lecturing me the whole time. She wasted no time yanking my suit down, pulling her hairbrush out of her bag and situating me over her knee for a sound spanking. She did not hold back at all. Afterwards I had to put my suit back on but no matter how hard I tried to cover my red behind there was red popping out on my rear and thighs. I had to sit out of the pool for the remaining time we were there (maybe an hour and a half) and I still remember the smug look on that lifeguard's face when mom and I left the dressing room.



One morning when I was in third grade I was waiting at the bus stop with my mother, baby sister, and several other mothers and kids. I stuck my tongue out at my mother for some reason. Well normally that would have earned me a trip across her knee right away, even in public. However at that moment the bus was pulling up. Mother gave me a good swat on my backside and promised me a panties-down, bare bottom spanking after school. Everyone at the bus stop saw her swat me and heard her promise. A couple of the boys teased me about my upcoming spanking all the way to school and on the way back home as well. What with the sting of that quick swat, the bouncing of the bus, and the sorry anticipation of my promised spanking, I certainly felt like I was being spanked all the way to school, and back home!! (And I sure did get that spanking... I knew full well that I deserved it...).



My grandma used to babysit us everyday as both my parents worked and she thought a wooden spoon (applied often) was the best way to discipline her unruly grandchildren. Now she very rarely would be the one to get a spoon from the kitchen, there were two situations that were much more common.

One would be she would make you go get a wooden spoon from the kitchen and bring it to her. I remember the dread of opening the drawer and how heavy even the lightest spoon felt as I carried it to my expecting grandmother. Of course when I was picking out my own I'd desperately try to convince myself that I had picked the best choice possible but it really didn't matter which one I handed over, they all ended with a crying girl.

The other scenario which was more common was that my grandmother would send one of my siblings to get a spoon for her. If I or one of my siblings was due for a spanking she would take the naughty one, put him or her over her knee and bare their bum. As she was doing this she would ask one of the other kids to get her a spoon. Even if more than one of us was going to be spanked, she picked someone at random to lay over her lap. It was the worst feeling ever, there I was, my bare bum on display with no doubt in my mind (or anyone else's for that matter) exactly what was going to happen. I remember one particular time when I was going to be spanked, she asked my brother to bring her one. I guess I was being extra naughty or the inviting target of my bare bum was too resisting and she began spanking me with her hand while she waiting. I swear my brother took an extra long time to go from the living room to the kitchen and back. When he finally got back I already had tears in my eyes and I'm sure my bum was turning pink. He smugly handed our grandma a plastic spoon with a notoriously nasty bite to it and then gleefully stood there and watched as she went to work on me all over again, as if I hadn't just been given a good warm up.




It started at the rehearsal dinner just before my sister's wedding. My two youngest cousins were unhappy with their mom (my aunt) because she made them share one meal (fancy restaurant had no children's menu). My aunt said they'd be getting a spanking when they got home if they didn't end their protesting.

It had always been the plan that I'd be spending that night with my cousins (to get me away from the chaos of wedding preparations at home). When we arrived at their home, my aunt ordered her girls upstairs to get ready for bed. Meanwhile, my aunt went out behind their house and returned with a switch. Then she called to my cousins to come back downstairs. They burst out crying when they saw their mother holding the switch.

With my cousin Jimmy and I both watching (we were 12 at the time), my aunt called the older girl (age 9) over to be punished. My aunt reached under my cousin's nightgown and lowered her panties to her ankles. When positioned over her mothers lap, my aunt removed the panties from my cousins ankles and lifted her nightgown up to her daughters shoulders. Ten or so rapid swooshes of that switch left my cousin screaming as red welts formed across her butt and upper thighs. She was then ordered to stand facing the wall while holding her nightgown over her head. My younger cousin (age 7) was next. My aunt lowered her pajama pants and then lifted her across her lap. She received 6 or 8 rapid whistling lashes across her butt and thighs before being relieved of her pajama pants and sent to stand next to her sister facing the wall.



My sister and I were staying with my aunt who lived two houses down from while my mom went on vacation with some friends. I was about 8 then and my sister was 11. My aunt had a daughter (our cousin) who was about 9 years old then. My cousin had gotten in trouble at school and at the dinner table my aunt told her she was going to get a spanking before bed.

When the time came, I was told to get ready for bed and to stay in my bedroom and not to come out. I had put on my pajamas and was in my bedroom and heard my aunt coming up the hallway with my cousin. I peeked out the door and saw my aunt dragging my cousin by the hand with my sister following behind them. They all went into my aunt's bedroom which opposite my bedroom but down the hall a bit. My aunt did not completely shut the door and I could hear just about everything. My aunt continued scolding my cousin who was quiet as a mouse. My sister was in the bedroom with them. There was silence for about 30 seconds or so, maybe more, can't be sure exactly, then I heard the sound of my aunt slapping my cousins bottom. I could tell from the sound that it was on bare skin on not over her clothes. All I heard was the sound of my aunt spanking my cousin at first, but after about a half or minute or so could hear my cousin starting to cry. After a little more time her crying became louder and louder. I think my cousin didn't want to cry at first in front of my sister and trying to be a big girl about getting spanked. After the spanking, my aunt came out with my cousin and told her to wash her face and put her pajamas on and go to bed.












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