The little hooligan

This happened when I was 10 years old. As a child, I loved to play soccer and also liked to go with my daddy to watch our local team play at the stadium.

Unfortunately, I was also something of a sore losing. When we watched our team and they lost, it would put me in a bad mood that would often, even as an older child, escalate into a tantrum.

One day, our team was playing against one of the better teams. They had won the championship many times and their team was so much better than ours. Nevertheless, we managed to get the first goal.

Unfortunately, as the game went on, our opponents came back strongly. I started to get frustrated, and began to kick the seat in front of me. At that, my dad gave me a scolding about my temper and ordered me to behave.

For a few minutes I did calm down a little, but then the referee disallowed a penalty for our team. I lost my temper – as did a few adults, I might add. Some threw their beer at the referee. I thought this was a great idea and lobbed my hotdog in the same direction.

Eventually, a security guard came up to us and ordered us to leave the stadium. “And if I was your daddy,” the guard said to me, “your pants would be coming down for a sore bottom when I got you home.”

On the journey home, Daddy said to me: “That guard was right, young lady. You need a good, hard spanking and I’m going to make sure you get just that.”

When we got home, Mom was shocked to see us back so early. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Ask this little hooligan here,” Daddy said. Of course, I then had to tell my mother what happened. She was naturally extremely displeased with me. Daddy sent me to my room, accompanied by a sharp smack to my behind. “I’ll be up to spank you properly once I’ve calmed down a little,” he said.

It was about 15 minutes later that Daddy came into my room. He sat down on the bed and lectured me some more about losing my temper.

“As a punishment, Sarah, not only are you going to be spanked, but you will not be allowed to go to soccer matches for the rest of the season. Now, get over my knee!”

I bent over and Daddy guided me into position. As I’ve mentioned before, he never took my pants down to spank me but he had a good hard hand and even through clothing the spanking was extremely painful. I got double my age in smacks and I was bawling and sobbing like a naughty little four-year-old by the time the punishment was over.

After the spanking, I got a hug, then Daddy talked to me for a little while longer, making sure I understood why I had been punished. He then told me that I was to stay in my room until dinner.

I lay down on my bed and cried into one of my pillows, my bottom still sore and stinging. It wasn’t very comfortable to sit at dinner time but the spanking taught me a good lesson, and it did teach me to keep more calm when watching football.

Contributor: Sarah

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