My parents didn’t believe in spanking, in a time when most parents had no hesitation in warming their kids’ bottoms if they stepped out of line. So that made my one and only encounter with the sanction even more memorable.
It happened at my friend Craig’s Taylor’s [name changed – Ed] house. I was totally in love with his mom – she had married and had her children young, so she would only be in her late 20s when this happened. She had glossy, long black hair and boobs to die for – not that, at nine years old, I knew much about sex, but hey…
Craig and I were goofing around in the lounge some, and began throwing a mini football around the room in a fairly haphazard manner. Eventually, Craig’s mom came through the room and saw what we were up to. “Boys, take that football outside, please – you might break something in here.” She carried on with her housework but we didn’t go outside – we were having too much fun using the furniture to bounce the ball off to each other.
On the walls of the lounge were several decorative plates, and – just our luck – Craig threw the ball at me, I missed it and it hit the plate behind me, rattling it against the wall. I turned around instinctively and was just in time to watch a big chunk fall off it onto the carpet.
Craig’s jaw dropped, and his face turned white as a sheet. I felt the colour drain from my own face and felt a bit sick, as we both stood there motionless, wondering what on earth to do. That choice was quickly taken away from us as Mrs Taylor came back into the room and observed the damage.
“Didn’t I tell you boys to go outside? Now look what you did! That’s it – you’re both getting a spanking!” She turned around and walked out of the room. Craig now looked like a ghost and I didn’t feel much better – I was so scared I almost felt like I would poop my pants.
We heard a rattling noise of a drawer opening in the kitchen, then Craig’s mom returned carrying a spanking paddle. It was the sort you saw in novelty and tourist shops, with the slogan ‘The Board of Education’ on it.
“Craig, you might as well be first,” his mother said. Without a word, my friend came over to where his mother was standing, then bent over obediently to take his punishment. Mrs Taylor looked on with grim approval, then put the wood against her son’s buttocks. She swung it back with practised ease and brought it back down smartly on the target. Craig let out a little grunt.
A thorough spanking followed. It wasn’t just a few swats, and I lost count of how many times the paddle stung my friend’s behind. It was obviously a punishment Craig was fairly accustomed too. He let out a few yelps as he got done, but there was no babyish crying, although his eyes had tears when he was finally allowed to stand up again. “In the corner.” Again, very obediently, Craig took his place against the wall, hands on his head.
Now his mom looked across at me. “You’re my next customer, young man.” Again, I felt a quiver in my bowels. “Please, Mrs Taylor, I don’t get spanked.” “Then it’s high time you were. Naughty boys get spanked in my house. Come here, Daniel.”
I reluctantly shuffled forward. “I need you to bend over, put your hands on your knees and stick that bottom out for me, understand?” I nodded and assumed the position I just seen Craig in. I felt Mrs Taylor’s firm hand on my back to keep me down, then the paddle was placed against the seat of my pants.
I didn’t have any time to think of anything else because at that moment, I got my first ever swat. The paddle easily covered both buttocks and they were suddenly on fire. I let out a yell you could have heard in the next county, but before I could even catch my breath, the next swat descended on my backside.
The next couple of minutes were like my worst nightmare. I soon lost control and began to cry like a little boy. I suppose it was some mercy that Mrs Taylor didn’t spank bare bottom but through thin pants and briefs, it barely made any difference. Mrs Taylor held on to me firmly as she spanked me and gave me the same sound chastisement that she had just administered to her son.
After what seemed an age, I finally felt her hand leave my back and I was allowed up. I was bawling like a toddler, really and truly upset as well as hurting behind.
Mrs Taylor’s expression softened, and she got down on one knee to cuddle and comfort me. For a few precious moments, I was held against her soft breasts and allowed to have a damn good cry. Mrs Taylor shushed me like a much smaller child, then said: “I won’t tell your parents you’ve been a naughty boy, but you can tell them yourself if you want to.” I didn’t want to – I was so ashamed.
She took my hand. “Come on – come and stand against the wall next to Craig, and think about what you did, and how you’re going to make better choices in future. Hands on your head! No rubbing that bottom!”
I was one well-spanked little boy, and when I got home about an hour later, I dropped my pants and peeled back my briefs to look at my bottom in my bedroom mirror. It was still bright pink from the paddling, and I was careful to make sure my parents didn’t see it for a day or so afterwards.
Not long afterwards, I began to replay the spanking I’d received while I lay in bed and touched myself, and the fantasy grew to Mrs Taylor taking down my lower clothes and giving it to me on the bare bottom. However, in real life, I didn’t want to experience pain like that again, so in future I was always careful to be on my best behaviour at the Taylor house.