When I was in my early teens (in the early 1960s), my mother was required to move out of town for employment and it was determined that I would stay with my aunt. I cannot say that I was overjoyed at first as she was older and seemed stern (how right I was!) but I really had no choice. Little did I know that it would be the beginning of a real ‘spanking adventure’.
I had had my bare heinie spanked by my mother, but not like what was to come. I had been living with my aunt for about 10 days when I was late for dinner. I apologised but I could tell that she was not appeased. After dinner, she told me to take my shower and come to her room after drying off. I was specifically instructed to leave my pyjamas in my room.
I bathed with great trepidation but knew that I would only delay the inevitable. I dried off and walked slowly to my aunt’s bedroom. When I arrived, she was seated on her vanity chair with an evil-looking paddle in her hand. She was wearing only her girdle and her brassiere.
My aunt called me over to her side, and I had to stand before her and get a lecture on my behaviour. After about five minutes, she laid me over her lap. She placed her arm around my waist and commenced to lay the paddle on with a vengeance.
No matter how much I squirmed, I was still subjected to the stinging rain until I tearfully counted 50 licks from the paddle. By the time my aunt told me to get up and stand in the corner I was beet red and swearing my eternal apologies to her. After 15 minutes, she called me from the corner and again laid me again over her lap – fortunately, this time it was only to examine her handiwork.
As I tearfully rose, she hugged me to her ample bosom (that’s another story) and kissed me. She told me that she was only trying to keep me on the “right path” and loved me. I had to thank her for the spanking and was then allowed to go to bed. I did not sit comfortably for several days.