Cow pie

I can’t believe I’m actually telling someone this story! Although this happened a good 40 years ago, I can still remember it as being one of the more pleasurable times of my life back then.

My father worked long hours and was a very easy going man and doted on us children as much as he could, which left my mother to be the disciplinarian in our household.

I am the youngest of four children, with a brother and two sisters older than I am, my brother by about eight years and the next in line. He always enjoyed picking on me and doing mean things to me behind my parents’ backs, so they couldn’t check him on it. This story happened when I was around five and my brother was 13.

We were spending the usual visit at the farm of friends of my parents who had five children of their own – two older daughters in their late teens and two boys and a girl who were right around my brother’s age, making me the youngest and the one who got picked on the most.

Since we didn’t have the chance to visit them as often as we wished, our visits always called for a picnic with all the trimmings, including me dressed that day in a very fancy, frilly lavender dress edged with white lace.

When we got to the farm we had the usual admonishments from our folks to be on our best behaviour while visiting with our friends but as things go, when children aren’t properly supervised things can and will go wrong.

Mother and the other ladies unpacked the containers of food from the car while Dad did his usual thing of wandering over to the menfolk for a chat and beer until lunch was ready. We children had been told to keep away from the barn (always a source of interest to me, an animal lover who couldn’t have pets because of various allergies), at least while dressed in our good clothes.

As usual, that warning set me up for one rip-roaring rotten trick! As soon as the adults were off doing their own thing, my brother and the other children started to tease me for being a chicken and not wanting to go in the barn. I didn’t want the other kids to start picking on me, so I joined my brother and the other children and investigated again that wonderful place that had more animals in it than we two had ever seen in one place!

What a heaven for me! The barn always stunk, which was always the first thing we commented on, but the absolute worst was seeing the occasional ‘cow pie’ in our path that had to be avoided at all costs. It was a very sunny day so when the barn caught our interest, it was almost dark going inside.

My brother knew what was ahead of him right away, but my interest was not on my feet, but on the huge cows and horses lining each row of stalls. I no sooner stepped a few feet inside the big barn when I came in contact with something totally odd!

The first thought I had was of something incredibly warm, thick and stinky that I, with my new shiny white patent leather shoes on, had just stepped into. The next was the most horrible feeling a little girl could ever have – I lost my footing in the middle of that fresh ‘pie’ and went right down in it! I was horrified and so embarrassed because all I could see were the faces of my brother and the three farm children laughing themselves sick while I struggled to get off my back and out of that rotten mess!

I should have known that my brother had planned this as an evil trick on me – but he was soon to find out that the trick was on him! Even before I was able to right myself I was in tears, and I immediately ran to my mother for comfort.

She and the lady of the farm, along with the two eldest daughters, were unfortunate enough to be in the kitchen preparing the picnic feast when I ran in. Since the damage was done on by back half, no one noticed my predicament until the smell followed me in from outside and caused all hell to break loose!

Holding her nose and trying hard not to gag, my mother grilled me on what had happened. I was crying so much I could barely speak. I could see the fire in her eyes as soon as she realised what I had gotten myself into and I knew I was in for it. All food preparation in the kitchen stopped while the women bustled around, finding towels and soap to wash off the dirty little girl in their midst.

I was so covered with the stuff my mother could do nothing but strip me right there in the kitchen so none of it would get anywhere else. I felt totally ashamed, standing there stark naked, but not as much as when my mother was given a metal wash basin filled with soapy water and preceded to wash me down right there.

I was blubbering the whole time and not just from the shame. I knew that soon I would be feeling the heat in my bottom along with the redness in my cheeks! After she cleaned up the mess and my beautiful dress was taken away to be cleaned, she pulled one of the kitchen chairs out to the middle of the floor and stood me before her.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at my mother, who was also feeling the embarrassment of such a disruption as this! I felt like I had destroyed the entire trip.

“Debbie, look at me!” she commanded. I looked, but the sight of the fury in her face made more tears come. “What did I tell you to do? You were not to go into the barn until after the picnic and you had a chance to change out of your good clothes! What were you thinking?” All I could say around my sobs was that I was sorry for what happened and just who had done it to me.

“I’ll take care of your brother later. Right now, you are my main concern. I’m going to spank you for not obeying me, young lady! This disaster has really gotten you in trouble – you should feel darn lucky that you have a spare change of clothing here or you would have been eating your picnic lunch naked!”

With that, she pulled me across her lap and rained the most powerful series of smacks to my bottom that I had ever experienced. Gone from my mind was the fact that I was totally vulnerable in front of all our family’s friends; all I was concerned about was trying to prevent my already hot butt from being scorched some more. I can remember crying so hard from the pain, and the weight of my mother holding me in place, that I could barely breath.

Finally the spanking was over and I was dressed in my old clothes. I was made to apologise to the ladies in the kitchen and did some pretty lengthy corner time, which didn’t bother me as much as trying to sit down would have!

My brother’s punishment was a little more shocking than mine. Being 13, he naturally had it in his head that he was too old to be spanked anymore, so I guess that might have had a hand in his decision to play his prank.

The men, by this time had heard my cries and certainly smelled the odour and had gathered in the kitchen to find out what had happened. Of course, none of the other children were around. They had all scattered for their lives when they saw me running to the house covered in cow poop.

It took several minutes to find them, but all four were soon collared and dragged into the kitchen to explain themselves. Since it was my brother’s idea, the other children were grounded to their rooms upstairs until lunch was ready. I suspect that they got their penance after we had gone home for the day. My brother, however, was to get his in full that afternoon.

I had never witnessed my father explode the way he did! By the time he and my mother were through with tongue-lashing my brother, his tears were just about as numerous as mine and was I excited to see it. For once, he was going to pay for all the nasty things he ever did to me.

The matron of the farm knew how to handle naughty behinds and offered my parents the use of her favourite paddle for the occasion – one about a foot long, from what I remember of it, and about 4in wide. I could see that it had gotten its years worth of use.

While I was peeking out from my corner, I couldn’t help but notice my brother’s face go red with shame and then white with fear when he was ordered (in front of all the people in the kitchen) to drop his pants and underwear. He had just started the procedure but couldn’t get any farther than unbuckling his jeans before his pleading for mercy took control of him.

“Richard – now!” my father ordered. “Dad, please don’t – I’m too old to get a spanking! I’ll be good, I promise! I won’t do it again! Please, Dad!” To me, it was like looking at a totally different person. When my brother refused and tried to back away, it took my father no time at all to grab him and bend him over.

My mother, however, had enough fury to vent that she felt she could handle this 13-year-old as well as her daughter of five.

What happened next was a display that I have never forgotten in the 40 years since I first saw it. Here was my usually laid-back father, holding his bent-over, struggling to get free and crying 13-year-old son, and my mother pulling her boy’s underwear down and making quick work of his behind with the paddle.

She must had landed a good 20 swats on my brother’s butt with that thing. She was sure tuckered out enough by the time she was through. Desperately trying to rub out the sting in his behind and pull up his pants at the same time, my brother danced a complete circle in front of his captive audience, including me.

He was made to apologise to everyone – and me first – but all I could do was smile. I could see that being older had nothing to do with being too old for you-know-what!

Contributor: Debbie

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