As a young lady growing up in a home with a very loving, supportive yet strict mother, I can relate to your stories and am very happy to have found this place.
Briefly, I’m now 19 and appreciate how my mother always gave my siblings and I everything she could to make us happy, better people – even if that included giving us spankings.
Mom was raised under her mother’s hairbrush and strap and the family tradition was passed on to my own behind. Bare-bottomed spankings, usually over her lap, were frequent for us.
As a girl, it was quick lesson – spankings over Mom’s lap with my skirt flipped up, or pants and underpants pulled down, for long, steady hand spankings which left me in breathless tears and a very hot ‘sit spot’.
Further along, we “graduated” to more structured spankings from Mom’s old wooden hairbrush (the same one she’d felt as a girl). The humiliation of spanking built as I matured and the whole baring process became traumatic for me.
Spankings as an early teen taught me I was not ‘too big’ to be bared and blistered, but in high school the really shameful scenes felt drawn out – long periods of waiting to be spanked and then the unavoidably awful order to ‘take your skirt off’ or ‘jeans off’.
At that age, it was a toss up over which was worse – the sick tummy feeling of stepping out of my panties or the assault of the brush or belt across my bare buns. No matter – I endured both experiences until I turned 18; about once a month, I’d say.
My younger siblings are still spanked and I dread the sights and sounds of bare-bottomed spankings to this day, just praying that my own fanny is never again bared and blistered!