I am a UK-based father of three boys, and regularly smacked their bottoms when they were growing up. While I always had a genuine reason for smacking them, such as disobedience or lying, when the opportunity did arise to dish out corporal punishment, I must admit that I enjoyed the experience.
Of course, I would say all the things many parents tend to say their child in such circumstances, such as ‘this hurts me more than it hurts you’ or (a personal favourite) ‘do you think Daddy likes having to smack your bottom?’
There was always something so beautifully innocent about the instant tears of shame that particular question was able to trigger – the boy clearly believing that I was upset to be smacking him, his childish display of guilt and remorse. All this just deepened the thrill for me.
I have read many of the stories on your website and suspect that I am something of an anomaly. While many of your contributors say they’ve loved all things about spanking since they were themselves young children or teenagers, I had no interest in corporal punishment (certainly, none that I was aware of) until I became a father. Indeed, I remained unaware of thos interest until I actually smacked my eldest son for the first time – and I was honestly gobsmacked at the effect it had on me.
Simon was around two and a half when he first felt my hand across his bottom. My wife Polly and I had agreed prior to his birth (with that characteristic naive optimism of first-time parents) that spanking was old-fashioned and unnecessary; in fact, frankly, we felt that it was cruel and barbaric.
Then Simon entered the ‘terrible twos’ and we very quickly began to reconsider our views! Public tantrums, biting other children at nursery and throwing food from his plate were just some of the problems we had to contend with. We tried to explain to Simon what was wrong with his behaviour; we tried to ignore the naughty behaviour and reward the good; we even tried a ‘Supernanny’-style naughty step. Of course, none of these things worked!
We were at our wits’ end with him, when one day he bit Polly’s wrist and she instinctively grabbed him and slapped the back of his thighs three or four times. Immediately following the punishment Polly was utterly distraught – but then, as we saw the improvement it had on Simon’s behaviour in the days that followed, we began to realise that a smacked bottom or legs might be the answer to our prayers.
Even after witnessing this event, I still felt no arousal about spanking. However, a few weeks later I had what can only be described as an awakening. Polly was away for the weekend with an old university friend, and Simon and I were at home alone.
He had been acting up all day, clearly taking advantage of Mummy’s absence. Simon hadn’t been spanked since the incident with Polly a few weeks previously – but when I caught him out of bed and using a kitchen chair to climb onto the worktops, I knew I had to act. I lifted him from the kitchen counter and immediately he began to scream and squirm, and then managed to kick me hard in the stomach.
I saw red. Before I had time to even think about what I was doing, I had sat down on the kitchen chair, lowered my son’s pyjama trousers and flipped him over my lap. Obviously, up until this point Simon had no experience of this type of formal punishment but he still could sense the trouble he was in and was already wriggling around, trying to get up from the confusing and frightening position in which he found himself. I simply wrapped my left hand around his slim waist, raised my right hand and brought it down hard on his little bottom.
As soon as I heard the cracking slap sound of my hand meeting his bot, followed immediately by his deep crying and unsuccessful straining to get up from my lap, it just felt right. It felt so natural, so instinctive to be punishing my boy this way, using the same method that had been used on countless generations of children.
I gave Simon another three or four hard smacks, turning his little bare bottom from white to pink. When I stood him up, I felt my penis hardening at the sight of his bright red face, tears and snot streaming down it, as he cried heartily.
I drank it in for a few seconds, feeling utterly confused by the effect it was having on me, before coming to my senses, pulling up Simon’s pyjama trousers and ordering him straight to bed. He didn’t have to be told twice, and ran from the room with both hands down the back of his trousers, trying to rub the sting out of his sore little bottom.
I sat for a few seconds, feeling confused and shocked at the reaction I’d had to this punishment. As I say, spanking was not something that had ever even registered on my sexual radar with either my wife or former girlfriends, let alone with my own son. I listened to Simon crying loudly in his bedroom, and thought about how I was the one who had brought about those tears, who had tanned his little bottom, who had lowered his trousers and pinned him across my lap.
By this time, my erection was straining against the fabric of my trousers and I stumbled from the kitchen to the bathroom, dropped my pants, grabbed a handful of lotion and within seconds had shot a massive load of semen into the toilet.
I was utterly gobsmacked by what had happened. I sheepishly cleaned up, washed my hands and left the room, trying to convince myself that it must be down to missing Polly. But later that night, I again thought of all that had happened with Simon, and again had to relieve myself. I know I should pretend I felt ashamed of what had happened, but honestly I simply felt more confused than anything.
The next day, Simon was as good as gold and clearly the smacked bottom had achieved the desired effect on my young son – as well as the surprising effect it had had on his dad!
When Polly returned later that night, I told her about the change in Simon’s behaviour following the smacked bottom he had received, and we agreed that we would no longer hesitate to spank when necessary.
Children of that age need a lot of discipline and between Polly and myself, Simon must have received a sore bottom roughly every week around that time. In the evenings after Simon had been tanned, Polly and I would make incredibly passionate love. Often Polly would initiate this herself, so I suspect that she too got a certain something from watching me smack our son, or doing it herself.
We have never had a discussion about this, but this pattern continued after our other two boys arrived and began going over Mummy or Daddy’s knee for discipline. Harry, our second boy, was conceived during a passionate post-spanking lovemaking session, so he owes his life to Simon’s naughtiness! I can’t be sure about James, our youngest, but no doubt his naughty big brothers contributed to his own conception.
I suspect that the reaction Polly and I experienced from spanking the boys’ bottoms is actually far more common than most people would dare to admit. I still don’t think of myself as a spanking fetishist, as I only enjoyed the experience in the context of my own sons being disciplined. I’m unsure about Polly – as I say, I don’t think it’s a conversation we will ever have – but certainly she has never shown any interest in spanking in the marital bed, for example.
Finally, I must make it perfectly clear that neither of us ever acted inappropriately with the boys. As I said at the start, they only received smacked bottoms when they had thoroughly earned them. I guess the way we saw it was, we were raising three polite, obedient and respectful little boys – and if Mummy and Daddy had some fun in the process, then so be it.
Contributor: Mike