The old remedy

I hadn’t been spanked for quite a few years but when I was about 15, I had quite a few months of being mouthy and disrespectful. I would get grounded, along with other privileges taken away, but that made me so upset that I just got worse.

My parents were at their wits’ end. They discussed the matter privately, I believe, and decided that the best thing was to go back to punishing me as I had been as a small child. So, the next time I had a fit – on this occasion, because I wasn’t being allowed to stay out late with friends – my mother simply gave my father a look, which was obviously his cue.

Without further ceremony or debate, Dad grabbed my arm and put me over his lap like a naughty little child. He pulled up my skirt and began spanking me very harshly on the seat of my panties.

Quite apart from the pain, I was hugely embarrassed at being over my father’s knee again, having my bottom smacked like a little girl. As he spanked, I kicked and screamed and begged him to stop.

The only response came from my mother. She came over to my dad, saying: “Perhaps this will work better, then.” With those words, she pulled down my panties to reveal my naked bottom.

Now I was really beginning to take notice. Dad vigorously spanked my bared bottom over and over again, and I could feel the burning heat building up in my bottom and upper thighs. As he spanked and scolded, I sobbed like a much smaller child. Eventually, I had the sense to apologise and once again begged for the punishment to stop.

However, my mother had clearly had quite enough of my behaviour lately and was in no mood for immediate mercy. Instead, she went and got a ruler that was close by and handed it to Dad, who proceeded to finish my punishment with a sound application of 12in of wood to my already sore bottom. In retrospect, I don’t suppose the spanking lasted more than five minutes, if that, but it left my bottom a deep shade of crimson.

Afterwards, Mother had me go stand in the corner, with the back of my skirt tucked up into its waistband, panties at my knees. “If you’re going to act like a child,” Mum told me sternly, “you will be treated like one!” I had to stay like that for an hour, my sore red buttocks on display, while my parents sat in the same room, each of them reading quietly.

The spanking was a horrible experience but it certainly improved my behaviour and I never had to be given another one. Even 40 years later, I still blush with shame when I remember that punishment, not only the humiliation of my father seeing my bare bottom, but mainly the fact that I was naughty enough to need the spanking in the first place.

Contributor: Lilly


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