The tricycle

My mother took me to visit the daughter of one of her friends. We were the same age. Sarah and I liked each other right away and her mother suggested that since it was a lovely day, Sarah might like to take me outside to play in the garden.

Sarah showed me some outside toys, and I asked her if I could use the tricycle. She said Yes, and went to get the carriage for her dolls. There was a wonderful driveway area for me to ride in and since there were gates, I didn’t have to worry about cars.

Sarah’s mother came out to tell us that Darla and her mother were coming by for tea, so that Darla would be joining us. I was upset, for although I did not know Darla well we were usually in competition when we were together. You can read elsewhere about the scrape we got into when we were in school at an older age.

Sarah said that Darla could play dolls with her when she came. I kept riding around and around, singing songs to myself – happy as a little bird. Then Darla came out.

Everything changed. Darla demanded that I get off the tricycle and give it to her. She was not going to play with Sarah’s dolls. I told her that I would get off very soon and that I would just ride around once more.

Darla didn’t buy that at all. As I rode off, she ran up behind me, stepped on to the riding platform on the back and tried to stop me. Instead of stopping the tricycle safely, she flipped me over backwards. The tricycle landed on top of me, and I was bleeding from my lip and nose.

I started to cry and Darla ran away. Sarah went in to get our mothers, who promptly ran out to us. My mother picked me up and, led by Sarah’s mother, took me into a bathroom where my face was carefully cleaned. Ice was applied to my forehead, where a bump was rising, and I was carried to a couch in the back parlour to lie down.

Sarah’s Nanny and a maid came to help my mother, as Sarah’s mother and Sarah watched. Her nanny was also a nurse. Meanwhile, Darla’s mother had located her outside and brought her into the back parlour to apologise to me. Her six-year-old apology had every bit of ‘I better say this or I’ll get killed’ in it!

There were folding doors between the front and back parlours of this town-type house, and Darla’s mother took her into the front parlour, where the mothers had all been having tea prior to the crisis. I could see everything in there, for the work on me had all but ended, and I was just to rest with the ice.

Darla’s mother called for the maid and spoke quietly to her. I couldn’t hear what she said, but the maid nodded as Darla squatted down and cried out: “No, mama!” The maid turned and left.

Shortly after that, she returned and handed Darla’s mother a belt. I was really scared now. My heart was pounding and Darla was crying loudly. My mother and Sarah’s mother looked embarrassed but I think they knew that Darla’s mother wanted them to see that Darla was not going to get away with this.

Darla’s mother sat on a straight-back chair that was near an old oak desk and she unbuttoned the dressy overalls Darla was wearing. She pulled down her pink lace panties, which left her standing there in only her pink, lacy blouse.

In a swift and decisive motion, she pulled Darla over her knees and told her not to move. Darla was crying and squeezing her buttocks together tightly. Her mother made a short ‘strap’ out of the long belt by folding it and wrapping it around her right hand. She left a piece out that she felt was just the right length, and then she put her other hand on Darla’s back.

Sarah turned around and put her face in her mother’s dress, so her nanny took her out of the room. I didn’t want to look either but somehow, I just had to. Sarah’s mother left too, but my mother didn’t want to leave me. I was still under the care of the ice, so I couldn’t be moved yet.

Darla’s mother rubbed her bare bottom a few time with the leather wrapped palm of her hand, talking softly to her. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but I imagine that it was a lecture or an explanation of why she was about to be punished. With that complete, she raised her hand and brought the strap across Darla’s buttocks with a sharp slap. Darla jumped and cried out.

Again and again, her mother flicked that strap over Darla’s bare bottom, covering most of it from what I could see. Darla was jumping all over her mother’s lap but she had nowhere to go.

The spanking ended and Darla did not move. She must have been used to the routine. Her mother unwrapped the belt and placed it on the desk near her. She rubbed Darla’s bottom slowly and then began to hand-spank her lightly for a brief period of time. She was talking to her while she was doing this, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Darla was nodding in agreement and crying.

In just a few minutes, Darla was on her feet and put back together. Her mother took her hand and brought her to me. “All right, tell her!” Silence and crying. “Tell her!” Still crying.

A smack on the fanny brought Darla’s speech back to her. “I’m sorry, Gigi – I didn’t want to share.” I think Darla was truly shocked when she saw my face, and maybe that is why she didn’t reply right away. I told her it was OK.

Darla’s mother thanked Sarah’s mother for the tea and said that she was going to take Darla home now. She hoped that things were taken care of and that they could be invited another time. Sarah’s mother assured her that it was fine.

I carried a small scar from that day until I was about 12. It disappeared after that, somehow, but Darla and I continued to have our difficulties.

Contributor: Gigi

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