Playing with fireworks

My daughter and I spent the recent New Year holiday with my mom and dad, and while we were staying there Dad reminded me of a spanking I got from him when I was 12 years old.

It was New Year’s Day 1997, and I had been allowed to visit one my friends – a boy named Thomas. While I was at his house, we found some small fireworks that were left over from the night before.

We began to light some of them. Then, because they were quite modest in scale, we tried tying some of the fireworks together to get a bigger explosion. In this, we somewhat succeeded – but the extra noise alerted Thomas’s mother, who came out to see what was happening.

She went crazy with us, scolding us about the dangers of fireworks. When she was done yelling, she sent Thomas to his room and ordered me to go home.

What I didn’t know was that as I walked back, Thomas’s mom had called my parents and told them what her son and I had got up to.

They were naturally very angry with me and when I got home, I got a thorough telling off about how dangerous fireworks were, and how at 12 years old I should know better than to play with fire. Finally, Dad said: “Sarah – go to your room. Once I’ve calmed down enough to do it properly, I’ll be up to give you a good spanking.”

I rushed upstairs and sat down on my bed, crying quietly at the thought of what was about to happen to me. Around 20 minutes later, Dad came into my bedroom. He sat down on the bed and stood me in front of him, adding a further lecture to make sure I understood how dangerous my behaviour had been.

“Your mom and I both love you very much, and we want you to be safe. I need to make sure you realise how serious this is, and so you’re going to get your bottom spanked now – do you understand?”

I bit my lip and nodded, tears rolling down my face. As you probably remember from my other stories, Dad didn’t believe it was right for him to see my bare bottom or genitals, so he always spanked me on my clothed behind. Nevertheless, he had a large, hard hand which was quite capable of making my bottom very sore.

He put me over his knee and began to spank me firmly. After about three or four stinging smacks I began to cry properly, like a little girl getting her first time over daddy’s knee.

Dad usually gave me double my age in smacks. However, because he regarded this as a very serious matter, this time I got three swats for every year old I was, and I was sobbing like a much younger child by the time he’d finished with me.

When the spanking was over, Dad helped me up off his lap and held me while I cried. He told me it was all over and done with, and I was forgiven. Nevertheless, my bottom was so tender I had to sit on a pillow as we ate dinner later that night.

While dad and I were reminiscing about this punishment, more than 20 years on, my own daughter was silent but wide-eyed as she listened to the story. Hopefully, I will never catch her misusing fireworks as I did, but if she does, she will go over my knee to be punished, just as I was all those years ago.

Contributor: Sarah