The candy bar

I was all dressed for Sunday School with my younger brother Jeff. My father gave us each a quarter for the collection basket in Sunday School, and off we went.

Mom was home with the new baby. I was seven and Jeff was six. I told Jeff I had an idea. “Why don’t we go to the classes part, and then leave before chapel starts? That way, we can keep the quarter and go get some candy.” Jeff thought that was great.

We were having a wonderful time when Nanny came into the store to get something that mother had sent her to pick up. She saw us before we saw her, and that was very unfortunate. Home we were marched, candy bars and all.

My father saw us first. He said we were both in trouble, asking how long this had been going on. When we promised that this was the first time, he agreed to believe us but sent us up to let nanny prepare us for a spanking. Jeff started to cry immediately. Why do boys do that so soon?

Nanny took us to the nursery and she took our good clothing off, leaving us in undershirts and socks. We thought daddy was going to come in and spank us, but he didn’t. In came mom – and she had fire in her eyes.

She looked at me and told me that she knew that I had masterminded this whole thing, because I was older. Why does older mean guilty? I always asked myself that.

She took Jeff into his room, leaving me in the playroom. She shut the door. I heard slapping sounds, and Jeff was crying. She opened the door, and I saw him in his bed. She turned to nanny and told her to put my brother into pyjamas for a nap, and we could have lunch later in the playroom.

Then she took me by the shoulder and marched me into the bathroom. My mother had never done this before. There was a chair in there, where we used to put our bathrobes.

Mom ran water in the sink and dropped a washcloth into the water. Then she took off my panties and socks. She put the chair near the sink and sat in it, putting me over her lap. Then she took the wash cloth with its warm water and wet my bare buttocks thoroughly. She dropped the washcloth back into the sink, and what followed was a nightmare.

I was always spanked on my bare behind but I had never been spanked on a wet one before. I can tell you that the hurt was enormous. I just started screaming. Mom spanked and spanked and spanked. She told me that everyone out there knew that Jeff and I had not attended chapel. It would be all over town. Here she was with the new baby, Randolph, and I had done this to her.

She just spanked and spanked and spanked. When she thought I was drying off too much, she wet my bottom all over again and set to it once more. I thought I would die! I tried to get free and I remember slipping off her lap. Boy, was she mad! She just hauled me back and spanked my bottom some more.

I didn’t count, but it felt like a thousand spanks. It probably was nowhere near that, but to a seven-year-old this was dreadful.

I went to chapel the next Sunday with Jeff, and no-one seemed to look at me in any strange way. In fact, the teacher said that it was good to see me back.

Contributor: Gigi

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