A firm hand

When I was nine or 10, I was something of a brat – but my mom hadn’t spanked me in a couple of years. Then one day, something happened to change all that!

I was playing in the front yard with my friend Cheryl and my mother was talking to our next door neighbour. A young woman was walking down the street with her little boy. She stopped to chat with them and the little boy, who was about four or five, wandered around the yard.

As his mother was talking, the boy decided to relieve himself. He dropped his pants and happily urinated against the side of our house.

His mother was horrified, and ran over and grabbed him. She dragged him over to our front steps, sat down, pulled him across her lap and proceeded to administer a good, hard spanking.

The boy’s pants were yanked down around his knees. She held him on her lap and soundly spanked his blushingly bare bottom right in front of us all. He screamed and kicked wildly, losing a shoe in the process. She grabbed his flailing hands and pinned them behind his back and continued the punishment.

I watched in utter fascination as his bare buttocks jiggled under the blows from her indignant palm and grew redder and redder. He screamed ‘no, mommy, no!’ over and over, and cried loudly.

Watching breathlessly, I found myself becoming excited, wanting it to go on and on, but all too soon it was over. She stood him up, pulled up his pants and made him apologise to us. Then she left, dragging the still crying child with her, loudly promising him another spanking with her hairbrush when they got home.

I was shocked and deeply aroused by what I had seen. I became aware, as I watched the spanking, of a deep desire to be shamefully punished, just like that, by my own mother. I thought about laying across Mom’s ample lap with my pants around my knees, being thoroughly spanked on my little bare bottom.

My mother looked strangely at me and I could swear that she was reading my thoughts at that very moment. I blushed deeply at the thought, and at the realisation that I had sprouted an erection.

The neighbour left and Cheryl went home soon after and I went inside with Mom. She looked knowingly at me and commented about the boy’s spanking, and how I seemed rather impressed by the example his mother had made of him. She added that maybe I would benefit from some real old-fashioned discipline. I found myself agreeing with her, almost as though someone else was speaking for me.

Her eyes widened in surprise and I blushed furiously again, horrified at what I had just blurted out. Unbidden, an image of a pants-down shellacking over her knee came into my mind and I began to get a hard-on. As I turned away in embarrassment, Mom remarked that she might have to put me over her knee if my behaviour didn’t improve.

I was rather subdued for the next few days. Mom probably thought it was because I was afraid of being spanked, when in fact it was my increasingly-obsessive desire to be spanked that occupied my thoughts. I wanted a good, long, hard, sweaty, noisy, bare-bottomed spanking over her knee with all the kicking, screaming and carrying on that we both could muster!

About a week later, I finally got my wish. I had gotten quite bratty again and she warned me about my behaviour, but I ignored her. She finally got fed up and decided to use the method that worked so well for that young mother on me. She told me that I was going to get a spanking I would never forget – and she was right!

Grabbing me by the arm, she marched me upstairs to her bedroom and sat down on the bed. She undid my belt and took down my jeans, then pulled me across her lap. I was excited and fearful at once, and I immediately got an erection. As she pulled down my underpants, the waistband caught on my burgeoning little hard-on and I had to squirm a bit to free it so she could get them down to my knees.

“You’ve been asking for this for a long time, young man!” she said as I wriggled on her lap in anticipation.

She got a good grip on me and began the spanking, smacking my childishly bared buttocks with her firm hand. I instinctively tried to protect my butt with my hands and she grabbed my wrists and held them together.

She spanked me harder, slapping each tender cheek slowly and deliberately. It hurt more than I remembered and I began to yell and squirm. “Ow! Ow! Mom! Don’t!” I cried, but she kept on spanking me. I started sobbing. “Mama! No! Mama! MAMA!”

Soon I was conscious of a pleasurable feeling in front as well as the burning pain in my rear, as the spanking continued. My penis was rubbing against her lap as I squirmed and protested and the stinging smacks that were landing on my bottom were no longer unpleasant.

Her dressing table was across from the bed and I could see us both in the mirror. I watched as my mother spanked my bare behind to a deep, rosy red.

Like the other spanking, it was over much too soon for me. She rubbed my burning bottom gently and lectured me on my bad behaviour, occasionally smacking one cheek or the other for emphasis.

“Yes Mama,” I said. “I’ll be good!” As she talked, I tearfully apologised – punctuated by yelps of pain as she continued to spank me sporadically. Finally, she stood me up and told me to go stand in the corner. I pulled up my pants, turning away so she wouldn’t see my erection.

Mom grabbed me, led me to the corner, and tugged my pants down again, telling me to leave my spanked bottom exposed until she said I could go. Still sniffling, I stood there, rubbing my burning behind and savouring the memory of my mother’s loving discipline.

That was the first of many wonderful spankings that I would enjoy in the next few years. I can still see in the mirror an utterly defeated young boy, a spoiled brat getting a richly deserved (and sincerely desired) comeuppance.

My pants are down and my underpants are bunched at my knees. My naughty little bare butt has been royally reddened, both cheeks bearing the imprint of Mom’s firm right hand. I am smarting from an old-fashioned humiliating spanking over my mother’s knee.

She was right about it being a spanking I’d never forget. I don’t know if Mom really read my mind that day but I’m awfully glad that she turned me over her knee and spanked my bare bottom, just like that little boy!

Contributor: Joe

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