Aisle be a good boy

I got my first public spanking when I was about three or four. I had been spanked at home before with and also received a swat or two on the wrist if I misbehaved when we were out, but this was all about to change.

I was in the supermarket with my mother, which I usually found quite boring as she would insist on going down every aisle, taking the time to read the product information, that kind of thing. There were clear rules for her children when we were shopping – no whining, no means no, no tantrums, and no walking further than a metre or two from mother.

This one time, I remember seeing a box of cereal that had candy inside and I knew I just had to have it. I begged my mother for it but she said firmly: “No – we are not buying that. It has too much sugar – it’s not real food.” I was desperate so I grabbed a box and threw it into the trolley anyway. My mother took it out, put it on the shelf, and gave me a look as if to say ‘do not dare do that again’.

I was bored, my feet hurt and I was now frustrated that I couldn’t have what I wanted. So I whined and grabbed the box of cereal and threw it hard on the floor. I was about to go and grab another one, still whining, when suddenly I felt my wrist being grabbed and a hard swat land on my bottom. Another soon followed and I was so startled by the impact that I went silent. 

Suddenly, I felt my pants and pull-up being pulled down to my knees. I was tucked under my mother’s arm and she landed a welter of smacks on my bare bottom with her hand.

The smacks echoed off the walls like gunshots, and I burst into tears. Smack, smack! I could see the box of cereal through my tears on the floor and wished that I had never thrown it. Smack, smack! I cried and howled and promised to be a good boy – I’d do anything! Smack, smack! I kicked my legs, wiggled frantically, starting to squeal and shriek that I’d never do it again. Smack! The last swat landed on the bottom of my thighs, then I suddenly felt my clothes being put back into place.

My mother released me from under her arm but kept a firm grip on my wrist. She looked me in the eyes and said: “Misbehave again, and you will get a smacked bottom! I don’t care where we are!”

I continued to cry as we walked around the store, my mother now having a firm grip on my hand so I wouldn’t be able to grab anything further off the shelves. I remember the other shoppers, so much taller than me, looking down at my red and sulking face, while my free hand was behind me rubbing my bottom. The grown-ups all smiled and laughed at this freshly-spanked little boy, which made my face go as red as my bottom with the embarrassment. 

Eventually, mother put me in the seat of the shopping cart. It was uncomfortable against my sore bottom and I remember wriggling about as we finished the shopping. Mother saw me squirming and used it as a teaching moment to remind me that I must behave or I would find myself in the same position again.

I’m not sure what happened afterwards this because the memory cuts out. However, I do remember mother keeping a wooden spoon in her handbag after that and she didn’t hesitate to use it on either my own bottom or those of my siblings. And it certainly wasn’t the last time I was spanked in public. 

Contributor: Henry

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