I can remember very vividly one of the last spankings I got from my mom. I was about 13 years old and hadn’t been spanked in quite some time. I am the middle child, with an older sister and a younger brother. My older sister is four years older than me and still lived at home at the time.
She had stopped receiving spankings at around age 10 or 11. With her, it seemed my parents didn’t need to enforce the rules with their hands.
When one of us was spanked, it was usually quick and on the spot. Our clothing was always left on and a hand was the only thing used – except for this time.
I was kind of a wild and rebellious child who preferred to get dirty playing outdoors than to dress up and play with dolls. My parents had me taking ballet lessons in the hope that it would help refine my wild nature.
I happened to be in a class with one of my sister’s friends. This girl would often report back to my sister about what kind of havoc I wreaked in ballet class. She was a snotty girl and I considered her to be one of my biggest enemies. I tried to torment her whenever I could.
The one thing that infuriated my parents the most about me was my thick, unruly hair which I often refused to keep brushed and tidy. Most days, I would make a half-hearted attempt to tame it before dashing out the door. My mother and father had scolded me numerous times for not brushing out these tangles. One day, I remember deciding not to both with my tangles at all before going to dance class, but just put it up in a ponytail.
Of course, my sister’s friend was there that day and spent much of the class staring at me and whispering to another girl. I didn’t care – I simply made faces at them and went about my business. Little did I know what was going to happen!
When I got home that day, my mother was waiting for me. She pulled me into the bedroom that I shared with my sister and angrily began yanking the big heavy hairbrush through my tangled curls. I was whining and protesting because it hurt like hell. My sister was hanging around in the hallway, watching and smirking. I remember screaming at her to mind her own business.
This outburst sent my mom over the edge. She took the hairbrush and whacked my jeans-clad bottom with it. “Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a stranger complain about the way your daughter looks?” she yelled and smacked my left cheek. We were standing in front of my dresser which has a huge mirror attached to it. She was addressing me in the mirror and I was able to see my sister standing behind us, with her hand over her smirking mouth.
I remember feeling enraged that this was happening all because of her and her stupid friend. “I’m sorry!” I pleaded as I watched my mother’s anger gain momentum.
“You’re a slob! I’ve warned you over and over about keeping yourself looking presentable!” my mother shrieked, lowering the brush on my right cheek. My bottom stung and I remember hopping away from her to try and protect myself.
At that point she lost her temper completely, took me by the wrist and bent me over the dresser. I was pleading with her not to spank me. I was promising to be good and brush my hair. She wasn’t about to let me off. She roughly unzipped my jeans and yanked them down to my knees, leaving me clad only in my with flowery cotton panties. I let out a howl of indignation and she began paddling my bottom immediately.
She went from cheek to cheek mercilessly – I was dancing around and howling as she spanked me. Finally she stopped and when I looked up, all I saw in the mirror was my sister laughing at me. I stood up and screamed at her. “I hate you!” I yelled, clutching my red bottom.
Mom didn’t like this show of defiance. She pushed me down again and yanked down my undies, fully baring my red backside. I began begging and crying in earnest then. I was very modest about my body. I was plump at that age and didn’t like to be undressed in front of anyone, so this was a big embarrassment. There I stood, bent over, with my pants around my knees for anyone to see. I heard my sister gasp and saw her try to stifle her laughter.
Then my mom began paddling my bare bottom. The hairbrush came down directly in the middle of my bottom with a loud splat. I hopped from one leg to the other and howled in indignation. I tried clenching my cheeks but this just made mom spank me harder. I remember feeling my red buns bouncing when the brush hit them, and the shame burning my face.
What made me more ashamed is that I knew I deserved this bare bottom spanking. No-one in my family had ever received a bare-bottomed spanking and the fact that I was the first and only one to get it like that was (and still is) very humiliating. I was forced to watch myself in that mirror getting the paddling I so richly deserved.
I can still picture my red, shame-filled face as my mother smacked me with the hairbrush. What’s worse is that my sister still brings this spanking up now and then. She thinks it’s hilarious and knows it still causes me to squirm uncomfortably some ten years later.
When my mom was finally done, she made me shuffle over to the corner and stay there with my beet red bottom on display for 10 minutes. This was another thing she had never done before.
I remember hearing her explain all this to my father that night and telling him that they needed to take a tougher hand with me because I was more defiant and wild than my siblings (which I pretty much was. My father began to use the belt on me occasionally after that, but only when I really was bad.
I remember, after my corner time was over, standing in front of the mirror fingering my welted, red buns and burning with humiliation and shame. I was fascinated by how hot and blistered my rear was, and I was angry too. The next day in class I had to eat crow and be a perfectly-behaved girl, despite the fact that I wanted to kill that stupid girl. My sister had obviously told her about my spanking because I clearly heard her giggling and whispering about it to her little clique of friends.
Needless to say, my hair was in perfect condition from that day on!