The maid and her children

I’ve already written elsewhere about my experiences of being spanked by our family maid. What I haven’t mentioned before was her name, which was Ingrid. She was a Jamaican with three children of her own, who she had raised in her home country before coming to work for my parents.

With that sort of background, you can imagine that Ingrid was both an experienced mother and spanker – and when she warmed my bottom, she would often mention that her own children had been treated in exactly the same way as I had.

As I grew older, and began to sexualise spankings (even if they hurt a lot at the time), I became more and more curious as to how Ingrid had disciplined her own offspring. In my bed at night I would touch myself, and images of those three children, draped bare bottom over Ingrid’s lap, would fly into my head. I would imagine the sounds of sharp slaps on buttocks echoing around the room as she turned their little black bottoms red and sore.

I began trying to question Ingrid about her disciplinary methods in the home, but initially she just chuckled and refused to go into any details. However, there was a knowing smile on her lips and a few pleadings (and some sore bottoms of my own) later, she eventually assented.

Ingrid sat down in an easy chair to talk to me, where I could clearly see her broad lap and large hands. Both were intimately known to my own bottom, of course.

My first, and only, disappointment was to hear that her daughter was never spanked. I didn’t think to ask whether that was a deliberate policy or because she had generally been a good girl for her momma.

However, Ingrid then began to talk about her two sons – Winston, the eldest, and his younger brother Gilbert, who was evidently the naughtiest of the three. “He needed his bottom warming more often than not,” Ingrid told me. “And believe me, when it was time to tan his hide, he got it good”

She raised her right palm to face me. “This is what I used most of the time. You know yourself how much it hurts, young master, particularly on a boy’s bare bottom, and I took Gilbert’s pants down every single time he needed a hiding. He had a pretty nice little butt to spank too!

“If he’d been a really bad boy, though, I would cut a switch and whip him good – like the time the cops brought him home for causing mayhem in the town when he was just 13. He didn’t sit down for a few days after that!”

As Ingrid reminisced and talked about her boys’ misbehaviour and well-deserved smackings, I was aware of a hard lump forming in the front of my underpants as I got an erection, imagining my carer dishing out the discipline. I could not have been happier.

I masturbated to that mental picture for years afterwards, and still do occasionally to this day.

Contributor: John

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