Lying over her knee

That my mom was very good at administering a spanking had lots to do with the fact I presented her with many chances to practice the art of correcting a naughty boy’s behaviour.

Mom’s spanking were always painful yet never abusive. I read some of the stories of kids being spanked till they couldn’t sit for days after and I can’t quite see how the adult doing the spanking could be that rough.

I gave my parents many a reason to whip me good, yet neither ever bruised me or caused me to be hurting for days, even at times when I was spanked a couple of times in one day, as in this next memory I shall recount; nor when I was spanked on consecutive days, as happened on many occasions.

They spanked to punish, and therefore it was painful, but also to teach lessons: that they loved and cared enough about me to take time to spank; that the world had rules, limits and penalties for breaking those rules. Responsibility for actions and the idea of having a duty; them as parents and me as a growing-up boy.

One of the top crimes for which I could count on having my pants taken down and my bare little bottom warmed by hand and stick was for lying. I look back on it now and I cannot believe some of the lies I told – and told with the full if naive belief that I was going to get away with it! That I ever sat down was a miracle, almost as big as that mom never left me at someone else’s doorstep and ran.

Mom’s patience is probably best shown by the fact that she did not beat me bloody when she did spank me; God knows I tried her patience and love enough.

It was the day after Halloween. I was happy with my loot and trying mom’s patience with my pouting, whining, and general nagging her to let me have more of the candy from the night before than I needed. She’d set the limit and this I knew, but I was a self-centred kid to the end (usually, literally, my end).

I was in the middle of one of my pouting binges when the phone rang and mom started to listen to someone on the other end. When mom’s glance turned towards me something told me trouble was coming. The words ‘yes, Mrs. Miller, I’ll take care of it’ froze my blood – I knew what this was about.

“Mrs Miller tells me you stole candy from her last night?” “No, mommy, I didn’t – really!” I was making like a carpet and praying like a priest to get away with the five extra candy bars I’d pinched from Mrs Miller. She couldn’t know I stole them because she wasn’t looking when I took them. “You’re sure, Michael?” Mom asked, dialling a number on the phone. “Yes mommy.”

Mrs Miller had thought my sisters and I were so cute, she’d gone to get a camera to take our pictures, and as she was out of the room I loaded up. I was so smart I didn’t even empty the dish, I left two candy bars so she wouldn’t know any were gone. So went my thought process as mom called Steve Boxer’s mother. Steve had been with us.

To make a long story short, Steve had given me up and Mrs Miller had known by the number of bars I’d removed that either I or my sisters had done the thieving. I broke down when confronted with the facts and was marched from the kitchen to my bedroom.

Mom slipped the suspenders off my shoulders, unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall to my ankles. Underpants were then pulled down to my knees and over mom’s knee I went. Thwack, thwack, thwack! The stick, an 18in long heart of redwood, made red stripes across my little naked seat.

“Those are for stealing.” Smack, smack, smack! “Those are for lying. Now, you go lie on your bed and think about what you’re going to say to Mrs Miller when we go over there.”

My butt really stung. I lay on my stomach and rubbed the fire out while thinking about how embarrassed I was going to be at Mrs Miller’s – I really liked her and she was always really nice to all us kids.

Boy, was I going to get Steve for getting me in trouble! (Ah, the thought process of a nine year old!) Needless to say, I beat Steve up after mom and I’d gone to Mrs Miller’s for me to say how sorry I was. It wasn’t bad enough that I beat Steve up, for saving his own behind because he’d been accused of the crime first, but when his mother called mine, I lied to her again.

I was called into the house, confronted with my misdeed and denied it right to mom’s face. What was really dumb was there were many witnesses, including my own sisters. Mom’s face got really red and her mouth barely opened as she told me to go to my room and get my clothes off – all of them.

Boy, was I in for it! Mom came in with the stick and my diapers. I knew it would be a spanking and then to bed for me. She made me lie on my stomach on my bed and she gave me five spanks for the fighting and 10 for the lying. She powdered me roughly and her hand on my hot little bottom was almost like another spanking. She pinned my diapers, pulled up the waterproof baby pants and put me to bed.

When I was called for dinner, I had to go in just a T-shirt and my diapers, which was embarrassing, but also told my dad I’d messed up. It really hurt to have to tell my parents I was a liar or thief, but then I had done the behaviour.

I learned and believe I have succeeded in life, raised good children and helped others because of the lessons taught over mom’s knee. I also know that many others would have been much more violent towards me and my outcomes might not have been so good. I don’t believe in beatings, but I know being spanked did wonders to save my life.

Contributor: Anonymous

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