Lighting a fire

I wanted to share a story of a situation where both my younger brother and I learned from a good old-fashioned spanking.

We were both in our backyard, in our swimsuits. I think I would be nine years old and Stevie was five. Stevie was wearing my hand-me-down Speedo and I was wearing my new racing version. Dad lit the fire on the grill to cook supper, and while he went into the house to get some stuff, we messed with the fire in the grill, using sticks to spread the coals around the hot, open fire.

Dad came out of the house and when he saw what we were doing, let out a firm: “No!” He walked over to us, gave me ‘the look’ and I knew I was in for a sore bottom. Sure enough, he grabbed me under my arms, put his leg up on the picnic table bench, placed me over his knee and gave me a very hard spanking.

All the time I was receiving my punishment, I was looking right at Stevie. He had started crying – I don’t know whether he felt bad for me, or was just scared he would be next to go over Dad’s knee. In the event, he wasn’t.

I should say that in our neighbourhood, it was pretty common for boys at least to get spanked in public. The sons of our close neighbour got it even more than I did. I remember once Dad going to spank me in the front yard, and I ran back into the house to receive my punishment because no matter how hard it would be, getting it in private was better than in front of everyone.

Anyway, on this occasion Mom came out of the house and ran out to comfort Stevie, who was screaming and crying like a baby. She wasn’t at all bothered that I was getting my bottom warmed, I should add! She asked Dad what happened and he told her we were playing in the fire and could have been really hurt. Mom was comforting, hugging and cuddling Stevie, trying to calm him down, while all the while I’m getting my bum tanned!

When Dad had finished spanking me, he put me down and I started walking over to the pool. On previous occasions when I had been spanked, I had found the cool water very helpful on my sore butt. But Dad saw what I was up to and told me to sit right down on the hard wooden bench, which was very uncomfortable on my newly-sore bottom. Dad then grilled some meat (other than my butt!) and we ate outside once everything was cooked.

I don’t know why, but Stevie never got spanked by our parents. Mom would not even let me give Stevie a play spanking. Once I playfully swatted him two or three times in front of her and I was told: “No – don’t you ever do that to him again!” 

I wonder what she would have thought if she had known that many years later, when I was 12 and Stevie eight, I did in fact get to give him a proper sore bottom.

I was home alone with him and we were again by the pool. Stevie absolutely refused to listen to anything I said.

I waited for him to come into the house, then followed him into his bedroom. Once there, I pulled him on to his bed and over my lap – I pulled his Speedo down in the back and spanked his bottom around 30 times.

The spanking came as a complete shock to him. Once I had finished punishing him, I sat Stevie on the bed and I could see how uncomfortable he looked. Both his face and his behind were bright red. I told him that I was in charge while Mom and Dad were gone and that he had to listen to me. “No problem,” he replied. Having been so used to being spanked myself, it seemed very natural to give one. I think Stevie was secretly glad I had cared enough to warm his bum, and he always listened to me afterwards.

I’m not sure why I was the only one in our family that my parents spanked. Mom and Dad themselves never got spanked as kids, so I guess they had no idea how much it physically hurt. However much it hurt my behind, though, it did no lasting damage and every single spanking I received was justified. 

Contributor: Eddie