Shopping day

Both of my parents, especially my Mum, were lovely and broadminded – but they also believed that a stern punishment should be handed out when necessary.

They felt it was necessary quite often, so my siblings and I were quite experienced in getting a sore bottom from Mum or Dad. Some I forgot after my bottom cheeks cooled down; some I remember even now.

One of the most memorable ones was on one of the first warm spring days, just a week after my 12th birthday. My mother decided that it was necessary for me to have new clothes for school. So instead of playing outside with my friends, I had to go with my mother, my 10-year-old sister and my seven-year-old brother to town. I was very annoyed and it was a very long and stressful procedure to find new trousers for me, because I hated nearly everything I tried on.

When we finally found some, I had to watch my younger brother while Mum looked for some clothes for Ann or herself. When I was far enough away, I sent Tommy back to my Mum and went my own way, looking around in other departments of the shop.

It took a long time until they where ready, but when they were ready they had to search for me. Then I was in trouble. When Mum found me, I was scolded for not watching Tommy and causing trouble.

Then she said those familiar words: “I think your bottom needs a good tanning, Peter.” Although I was very ashamed to be scolded like this in public, I felt also guilty and tried my best to apologise and cool Mum down. Eventually she said: “OK – but this is the last warning!”

I was relieved – but I got in a bad mood again when Mum announced that before going home, we would have to go into the town’s biggest food store. None of us three children wanted to go there – we wanted to play outside. But Mum wouldn’t change her mind.

Anyway, all three of us started to fool around. Ann and I had more and more fun, and Tommy enjoyed it too. Mum shouted a few times at us not to be so silly, but this cooled us down only a little bit.

Then, the catastrophe happened. I pushed Ann and she pushed back. I pushed her again, Tommy laughed and then Ann pushed Tommy and he crashed into a pyramid of boxes or parcels. With a great crash, they fell down.

Mum grabbed us, shouting: “That’s enough!” Staff and customers began to gather around. I don’t remember the conversation between Mum and the shop staff – but I do remember the words she spoke when she turned to us.

“We’re going home straight away and there all three of you can be sure of a good hiding and a really tanned bottom.”

I was so ashamed at that moment! Just opposite me stood a boy my age with an awful grinning face. On the way out to the car, I started trying to cool Mum down again, telling her that it wasn’t my fault and that there was no reason for giving me a spanking. Mum said nothing and walked straight back to the car, with Ann and I still trying to get her attention.

When we reached the car, she turned to us with a very angry and stern face and said: “I won’t hear another word from you – until we get home.” Then she turned to me and shouted: “And especially you! Shut up and be absolutely quiet! You are the one who started all this!”

Of course, I was quiet when I saw how angry she was. But riding back in the car, I got very angry at the thought that again, it was me who was responsible for everything just because I was the oldest.

Presently my anger displaced the fear, and I resolved that I would not get a thrashing at home So I sat there in the car, quiet and full of anger beside my sobbing sister while we drove home.

Once there, Mum marched us straight into the house and ordered us into the kitchen. Still I hung in the doorway, arguing. Then, to my utter surprise, I got a slap in the face. Now my tears flowed – not through the pain of my burning cheek; it was my anger and rage which made me cry.

In the kitchen, we had to line up on one side. Tommy nearly howled: “Mummy, I have to pee!” So he was sent to the toilet, while we stood there and watched as Mum placed the wooden kitchen chair in an appropriate position. Then she opened the kitchen drawer, grabbed the wooden spoon and placed it on the kitchen table.

I think Ann and I pressed our hands simultaneously on our bottom cheeks when we saw this well-known implement. Our fear grew but I withdrew further into anger and said to myself: “You won’t give me that spoon today – there’s no reason for punishing me!”

When Tommy came back in, he started crying at once when he saw the spoon on the table. Mum ordered him to come to her and while she opened Tommy’s jeans, she said: “Tommy, you know what happens if you do not obey and today you disobeyed very much.”

With these words, his pants and underpants were taken down and soon he was in the over-the-knee position. Then, without further ado, Mum started to spank his little naked bottom with her hand – he got it really good.

We watched wide-eyed as his little bottom twisted over Mum’s lap while it got more and more red, and Tommy cried louder and louder. He really got a lot of swats and when Mum had finished, his bottom and upper thighs were deep red. Pressing his hands on his burning bottom, he jumped up from Mum’s lap, still crying a lot. Mum made him stand beside Ann, his pants still down.

Then Mum went back to her chair, this time picking up the wooden spoon from the table. Then she ordered Ann to come to her. Ann, already sobbing, made no attempt at any excuse, only saying: “Oh Mum, I am so sorry, so sorry.” But Mum only said: “Ann, put down your jeans – you deserve a bare bottom spanking too.”

Starting to cry even more, Ann opened her jeans and peeled her trousers and panties down. Then she went over Mummy’s knee to have the wooden spoon on her bare buttocks.

Under other circumstances it would have been a pleasure for me to see Ann get a bare bottom spanking, because this was really a rare event. But in this situation, it was very clear that this meant a bare bottom thrashing for me too.

I felt that it was really Ann who had caused the problem – she needed the spanking, not me. And Mum had no reason for giving me a spanking and I wouldn’t let her take down my pants. With lips and bottom cheeks pressed together I watched Ann’s behind become more and more red while Ann pleaded again and again not to get any more swats with that wooden spoon on her burning bottom.

But Mum wanted every part of her daughter’s behind deep red and when her bottom was fully covered, the spoon worked on her thighs, which caused Ann to scream even louder.

Somehow, I didn’t realise when Ann’s punishment was complete but suddenly I heard Mum saying: “Now it’s the turn of the young man who played the worst role this afternoon. Come here and bend over that table – but before you do, down with those shorts!”

“I did nothing,” I shouted. “Come here,” said Mom sternly. She got hold of me and started to smack my legs with the spoon. It really hurt. The thin material of my wide knee-length wide shorts didn’t afford much protection.

I started to cry really loud: “It’s not fair, it’s not fair…you have no reason to spank me – no, no, no!” This made Mum even more angry.

Suddenly she let me up, put the spoon on the table and ordered me to wait. She stood on the chair and fetched from the top of the cupboard the rattan stick. I had only experienced it once before – from my dad over the seat of my cord jeans. Now Mum had this stick in her hand.

I started really to cry as loud as I could, full of fear and of anger, when Mum again came towards me. Thinking she was going to hit me again, I protected my bottom with my hand. But instead Mum got hold of my waistband and unbuttoned my shorts, which then fell to the floor. When I tried to pull them up again, my underpants were pushed down and I suddenly found myself positioned over the kitchen-table.

While Mum held me with one hand she used the other to let the flexible rattan stick dance over my naked bottom cheeks and thighs.I struggled for a while but finally resigned myself to the punishment and lay over the table, crying hard, as she punished me.

Then there was a moment of silence – me bending over the table, Mum pinning me down and trying to get her breath again while I was out of breath too and in a flood of tears. When she had recovered, she said: “Young man, something like this will never happen again – you will learn your lesson today!”

With that, she again took the stick to my bare buttocks, my body dancing more and more under the increasing pain from the rattan stick on my bare buttocks. When she finally stopped, I couldn’t stop crying and every inch of my bottom was burning and hurting – a lot of the stingers hit my thighs too.

I was ordered to pull up my pants and to bring all the stuff from the shopping trip from the car into the kitchen. On the one hand I was really glad that I could disappear. But I had to walk three times to the car on the street and then back to the kitchen to get all the stuff in. And I couldn’t stop sobbing and touching my burning behind.

I was embarrassed, but the neighbourhood knew what had happened anyway because of our loud crying. When I had carried everything in, my siblings where already sent to bed in the children’s room which we all shared.

I too was ordered to change into my pyjamas and go to bed. I thought about arguing but Mum only looked at the stick which was still lying on the table, and off I went to our bedroom.

I was just undressing when Mum came in too. She told me to carry on. When I was totally naked, she handed me the top of my pyjamas. I put it on and then reached for the pants. But Mum grabbed me be the arm and turned me around, so that my brother and sister had a good view of my backside.

“Look at Peter’s bottom. Such a disobedient boy deserves a red bottom!” And a long lecture began. At the end of this lecture she asked me a question. Clearly a yes from my side was required, but for some reason I started to answer back.

Mum became furious again and one swat after another fell on my already burning and striped buttocks. Holding me with one arm and spanking me with the other, I was dancing around her like the planets around the sun. Then she stopped and said: “You stay where you are!”

It was clear she was going to get the stick again. At this moment I forgot everything around me. I only felt my stinging backside and the fear of getting the stick again.

When Mum arrived again with the stick in her hand I started telling her how sorry I was and nearly fell on my knees. I thought Mum had enough too. So I didn’t get the stick again. Instead, I had to put on my pyjama pants and was sent to bed too.

After an hour, Ann and Tommy got permission to get up again but I had to stay in bed. Only for dinner in the evening was I allowed to get up, but had to go to the table in pyjamas.

After dinner, Dad took down my pyjama pants too and examined my chastised bottom. I got another lecture. My bum was still red and I feared to get more smacks so I gave the right answers and spared my bum another thrashing.

Looking back, this was the beginning of quite regular use of the stick in our family. Until I was 15, it was really rare that I went more than six weeks without a visit of the cane on my bottom. Fortunately most of them were on my trouser seat – and very often from Mum.

Contributor: Peter

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