Bottled up anger

My mom and dad have always been practising Christians, and every Sunday morning my brother and I would be dragged off to the local church with them.

I hated it – religion meant nothing to me then, and means nothing now, and having to kneel and pretend to pray was so uncomfortable on the knees! This particular incident occurred when I was about eight or nine, my brother being four years younger.

For church, we had to dress up smartly. I’m sure you can imagine me in my jacket, shirt, tie, shorts, grey knee-length socks and well-polished black shoes.

This particular morning we were all dressed up as described. Dad had a suit on, while Mom wore a plain matching skirt and top. We were having breakfast, all sitting at the dining table doing as families did in those days, before we shortly had to leave.

My brother and I were larking about and for some reason I can’t recall, I picked up a tomato sauce bottle and shook it quite hard in his direction. Unfortunately the lid was only very lightly sitting on the top of the bottle and a large dollop of the red sauce flew out and landed all down his front! I laughed out loud, thinking it hysterical, but he (at his young age) started to cry, as young children do.

I’m not sure if Dad saw the funny side of this, or whether he could show it if he did, as Mom was very much the dominant parent in our house – and she was furious! She jumped out of her chair and came round to me. Grabbing my arm, she pulled me from my chair and dragged me towards the kitchen, my laughter replaced by fear as I suddenly knew what was coming.

I tried to plead for her not to smack me, saying it had been an accident, but she was in no mood to listen as she grabbed the armless wooden chair that always sat next to the fireplace (a nice place to sit and warm up when you’ve been out in the cold, but also Mom’s spanking chair) and swung it into the centre of the room. I knew that Dad could see what was happening through the open doorway, but he was busy dealing with little brother.

Sitting on the chair, Mom pulled me in front of her as she undid the belt on my shorts, unzipped the fly and tugged them down hard to my ankles. My pants followed and within seconds I was naked from the waist down. A few seconds more and I was hauled over her lap and staring at the kitchen floor.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Mom flipped up my shirt tails to expose my bottom fully, then held me down tightly in the small of my back with her left hand whilst starting to spank with her right.

A flurry of spanks landed all over my bottom, and suddenly I was on fire. It may have been just her hand, but believe me she knew how to spank very hard indeed! I tried to wriggle, kick, bang my fists, plead through my tears, all to no avail. Mom was angry, and she was going to take it out on my bottom. At the time, it seemed as if she spanked me forever, but in reality it was probably only about five minutes.

Her anger spent, and my bottom and upper thighs now bright red, I was told to stand and wait by the fireplace (my clothes still around my ankles) whilst she replaced the chair back to its position and went off to help Dad get little brother changed.

Whilst some children get spanked more frequently than others, there are some particular instances that stay in the mind, and this was one such instance. As you can imagine, sitting in church was not a pleasant experience that day!

Contributor: Ralph

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