I have warm memories of childhood spankings. At first I was terrified of being spanked and then later, when my father was away on military service, I suffered extreme humiliation and embarrassment at having my bottom exposed and dealt with over my mother’s knee.
It was more the embarrassment than the pain. The pain I really don’t recall. And then I gradually found that I began to enjoy the experience and occasionally went out of my way to provoke it.
And so I continued to receive the occasional spanking right into puberty until one day, my mother felt my erection pressing into her lap. She was more embarrassed than I and she pushed me away, saying: “I can see you’re too old for this treatment. Pull up your pants and behave yourself in future.”
And that was the last time I received the exciting ministrations to my buns. Such are the innocent memories of a lost childhood.