The plastic paddle

When I wasn’t being paddled, I was very doted on. I was loved and well taken care of. Mom was too strict but her love was excessive as well. When I was a child, I never remember feeling rejected. I did fear her paddle, though!

I was a very well behaved child, respectful and self-controlled. The most important lesson I learned from countless paddlings was self-control. I was truly spanked too often but I have always known how to wait and how to control my emotions – maybe too much.

My mom was very liberal on how much she spanked. I was raised very strictly and paddled for any and all transgressions. I was never spanked excessively at any one time, but if I didn’t toe the line, that paddle was used. My manners were impeccable as a child and I was brought to gatherings and performances from a very young age. My mother would set up training sessions so I could practice proper behaviour and if I slipped during these sessions, I would be spanked.

My mom had this flexible plastic paddle. It was the size of a wide ruler – about a quarter of an inch thick, sturdy but flexible enough to cause a wicked sting. She also spanked slowly, a few seconds between each swat. She only spanked between one and five times in any one session but it hurt more than any quick 10 swats, guaranteed.  I can never remember her not using that paddle. It was plain, white with rounded edges.

My mom’s paddle was kept in her purse. When we were home and I did something to warrant being paddled she would sit in her wingback chair that had a small matching ottoman and say: “Go get my purse.” I knew I was in for it. My mom’s only form of discipline was that plastic paddle.

I would have to bring her purse, hand it to her, then I knew to lie over the ottoman so my backside was in a perfect spanking position. Quietly, Mom would tell me why I was being spanked, lift my dress and slowly land some hard swats on my backside. She would spank the same spot all the time – this was torture after the second swat. Then I would be sent to the corner to think about behaving.

Mom didn’t remove clothing – she didn’t have to, as I wore dresses and she liked to spank my outer thigh, just below the hip. It is a very sensitive area! 

If I was over the ottoman, I was spanked on my cotton panties. However, this was no relief as mom just spanked harder as the angle was perfect for a slow, precise lesson. The clothing that I wore always left my outer thigh available to spank – always dresses, and I never wore tights, only knee socks that had better be pulled up.  Up until about the age of seven, my dresses were always short and worn with matching bloomers. Mom’s paddle would leave a red raised welt for a couple hours. 

My family expected much obedience from us children. If we were told to wait while my parents conducted business, it meant sitting still and quiet. I don’t know how long we had to sit but it seemed like hours. When I was young, this lesson was learned after frequent spankings.  Mom planned this to get me to a place of obedience so she could bring me anywhere. This is indeed what happened – she could bring me anywhere without worry of mischief, because of my many ‘practice sessions’.

I would be taken to her friend’s beauty shop, be put on a chair and told to sit quietly. My mom would go about her business and if I began to squirm or get up, she would quietly escort me to the car, tell me I was being spanked for not obeying, then pull up my dress and soundly smack my bare leg with the paddled.

Then, while I was still crying, she would return me to the same chair with the same instructions. Anyone in the waiting room could see my red leg and my tears but Mom always acted as though she was doing her duty.

The discipline paid off – by the time I started school, I could be brought to any store or meeting. I remember wanting to get up or speak out but the knowledge of Mom’s paddle was enough for much self control.

Although, as I mentioned, at home I was spanked lying over the ottoman, while out of the house I would usually be spanked standing up. I had to place my hands on my head, then Mom would reach her left hand around my torso gathering up my dress and preventing me from reaching my thigh, and paddle my outer thigh.

This firm grip prevented me from moving too much while I was being done but in reality, I was far too disciplined to resist my mother’s chastisement. Frequently I would be sent to the corner if we were at home or in my mom’s office. If we were shopping or out somewhere else, I would be required to stand quietly beside my mother. If my crying became excessive (in my mother’s estimation), the procedure would be repeated.

Public spankings did not bother my mother at all, and she dished them out freely in department store lounges, in parking lots and at pool sides.  The only place my mom made me wait is if we were at the theatre – I think because we were at a live performance and Mom didn’t feel it would be appropriate to spank me there and then, and the car was too far away.  However, the few times I transgressed at such an event, the anticipation of Mom’s paddle as soon as we returned to our car ruined any joy the performance could provide.

The pain was the worst thing. At first, you would hear the smack then just a second later the pain would start and it would get more intense. Then the next smack would land right on top of the previous one. It was complete agony, and if I was receiving the full five spanks, it was torture.

Although not painful, standing in the corner after being spanked was very embarrassing, especially if we had a guest or if I was at my mom’s office. I had to stand in the corner with my hands folded in the small of my back, face to the wall but without touching it.

Contributor: Clarice

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