My mother spanked me and my younger sister when we were growing up, but while they did sting a bit, these punishments were not especially painful. She would spank us with her hand, mostly over our panties, although a few times when we were very naughty girls we got it bare bottom. I don’t think we ever got more than a dozen or so swats, and we would cry crocodile tears and that was pretty much it.
But as I turned 14 and my sister 12, those spankings were being less and less effective in quelling our bad behaviour, and finally my mother seemed to have enough and consulted with my grandmother when she came to visit. My grandmother was appalled that we were being spanked the way we were and told Mom that has to come to an end.
One evening, my grandmother summoned me and my sister to the living room where my mother was already sitting. She explained that it was time that we learned what a real spanking was all about, and for her to show my mother how to properly discipline us. I was shocked at what I heard and more than a little nervous at those words and the look on my grandmother’s face.
Then, to my horror and embarrassment, she took hold of me and my sister and pulled our nightgowns completely off, leaving us standing there naked. We were ordered to put our hands behind our back. My grandmother explained to my mother that no matter what our age, spankings should always be given with the offender totally undressed, so that our clothing would not be an impediment to punishment.
Then my grandmother picked up a solid, wooden square hairbrush and tapped it against her hand. She told my mother that hand spankings were worthless and that a good hairbrush applied to the bare backside was necessary to make an impression on children of our age.
I began to get really worried at this point and my sister began to sob a bit as my grandmother went on to explain that all smacks should be given with maximum force and all pleas and crying from the child should be ignored.
With that, she grabbed my sister’s arm and pulled her over to the couch. My sister looked terrified as she was hauled over my grandmother’s lap and my grandmother instructed my mother to grab her daughter’s arms to keep her in place.
Then my grandmother tapped my sister’s bare butt a couple of times, and told her that she was about to learn what a real spanking felt like. With that, my grandmother raised the hairbrush and began to smack my sister’s bare bottom as hard as she could, all in roughly the same spot. My sister erupted into screaming, wriggling and kicking her legs – none of which had any effect on my grandmother.
My sister looked up pleadingly at our mother, saying that it really hurt. Mother merely looked down at her and said it was only beginning to hurt, and that she was going to learn a goof lesson tonight.
The fast, hard rain of spanks continued to land on my sister’s buttocks, turning them pink, then red, then crimson. The center of each butt cheek soon began to take on a white shade as small blisters began to develop on her behind. Her screaming became hoarse and kicking lessened but the spanking went on for a good four minutes or so more.
Finally, my grandmother stopped and made my sister stand up and she showed her bottom to my mother. “That’s what a good spanking looks like!” My sister wailed as she tried to rub the pain out of her butt while she jumped around, and snot, tears and drool fell down on her developing tits.
I begged and pleaded not to be spanked but my grandmother said that I had had this coming for a long time. As I lwas laid over her lap, my mother grabbed my wrists, as she had with my sister. She held me tight and told me it was time I learned my lesson.
I felt the taps of the brush on my butt and then searing pain as the spanking started in earnest. It hurt beyond anything I could imagine and I was soon screaming and crying, begging for it to stop as the fire in my poor bottom quickly built. My kicking and wiggling had no effect as the spanking went on and on. I thought that my grandmother was killing me, but nothing I said had any effect as the smacks landed hard and fast.
My eyes blurred with tears and I started to hiccup as I cried – but the punishment continued. My mind was ablaze in pain – I never knew anything could ever hurt so much. Finally it stopped – and I found myself dancing around, rubbing my butt to sooth the incredible pain. Then I realised my boobs were bouncing up and down as I jumped and everyone was staring at me. I stood there, bawling like a baby, for a few minutes until I was able to regain some composure, standing naked next to my sister.
Then my grandmother said it was time for my mother to try it. At that, both us children began to cry harder and we begged not to be spanked again. Our mother took no notice of our pleas – she picked up the hairbrush, tapped it against the palm of her hand and pulled my sister over her lap. My grandmother then produced a bottle of baby oil and told my mother to spread it all over my sister’s bottom and thighs, to make the sting more effective. At first it looked like the baby oil might be soothing on my sister’s deep red bottom – but that was soon to change.
My grandmother poked at my sister’s upper thighs and lower butt and told my mother that these spots deserved the most attention by the brush. “That way they’ll feel it better when they sit down.” She then grabbed my sister’s hands and told her: “This is going to hurt!”
My mother brought the brush down on my sister’s lower bottom and my grandmother called out ‘harder!’ This was repeated for each of the next six or so smacks and my sister was frantic with pain. Judging from her howls and screams, I thought for sure she was being killed.
Again and again, the brush hit the same spot several times before Mother moved on to a new target. As the spanking brush struck my sister’s thighs, the pitch of her screams and howls increased, as she thrashed back and forth on our mother’s lap. The point came when my sister just could not cry anymore, and just lay there with her mouth open and face scrunched up in pain, rolling her head from side to side.
Then Grandmother told Mother: “That will be enough for now – but if they really break the rules, you should keep it up a little while longer.” My sister slowly crawled to her feet. Her buttocks were now almost purple and her thighs a deep red. Her legs trembled as she tried to stand, and she winced as she gingerly touched her well-punished backside.
Then it was my turn again. I was terrified as Mother put me over her lap and my grandmother held my wrists. I felt the baby oil being applied to my bottom and began crying hard, knowing full well what was to come. I felt the tap of the brush, and then the first proper swat. My grandmother instantly shouted at my mother: “Use the brush like you mean it!”
My mother’s following smacks had to be two and three times harder. I begged her to stop but my grandmother said that I seemed to be learning my lesson. On and on the spanking went. My thighs and the centre of my butt crack were consumed with blinding pain. The agony seemed never-ending and soon I found myself in the same place as my sister – so hoarse I could not make a sound as tears and snot and drool soaked the couch where I was being spanked.
My mother stopped and asked my grandmother if that was enough and when my grandmother said I needed another minute more I let out a shriek that probably woke the dead. My mother started up again and I thought she now was spanking me even harder. After what seemed to be a lifetime, my mother stopped and my grandmother inspected my backside. “That’s not a bad start in learning how to spank naughty kids,” was her verdict.
I slowly got up. I was barely able to see through the tears as I looked at my grandmother and mother and screamed: “You bitches!”
Not a good move! My grandmother grabbed me by the hair and said that she would now show my mother how to deal with bad language. She dragged me off to the bathroom, telling Mother to bring my sister along.
I stood bawling my eyes out as Grandmother ran hot water in the sink and put a bar of soap in to soak. I tried to apologise but got a couple of hard swats to my already incredibly sore butt and was told be quiet.
Within a few minutes the bar of soap was soft and gooey, and my grandmother picked it up and pushed it against my lips. I would not open my mouth. My grandmother then asked my mother if she remembered how to make a girl open her mouth, and with a very determined and stern look my mother reached out with her thumb and forefinger and pinched and twisted one of my nipples. As I screamed in pain, Grandmother shoved the soap into my mouth.
My grandmother held me by the hair by the back of my head and pushed the bar of soap in and out of my mouth. I gagged several times but that did not stop her and I knew I was going to puke as the taste of the soap permeated my mouth and throat. She finally took the bar of soap out of my mouth as I gagged over the sink with a session of dry heaves. I was given one small glass of water to rinse, which had little effect except to slightly dampen the taste of soap.
Then my grandmother asked my sister if she had anything to say – which, as you might expect, got a quick negative reply. We both were escorted back to our rooms and my grandmother and mother left and shut the door, leaving us to cry in our beds. I tried all sorts of things to get rid of the soap taste in my mouth, from spitting in the garbage can to sucking a mint, but nothing worked. Eventually, I cried myself to sleep.
At about 3am I awoke with horrible stomach cramps. I made a mad dash to bathroom where I sat for over an hour as my bowels erupted time and time again. When I slowly went to breakfast the next morning and complained about my stomach issues, my grandmother said that was the second part of the punishment of a good mouth-washing.
My sister and I were both sore for days, although the throbbing of the spanking stopped and the bruises on our bottoms eventually faded. However, the memory of a real, severe spanking was burned indelibly into our brains.
I was given three spankings from my mother after that until I moved off to the dorms at college. Each punishment was an increasingly worse experience as my mother gained experience in the application of the hairbrush to her naked daughter’s bottom. I’m just glad my grandmother didn’t provide our mother with such lessons earlier, as most of our childhoods would have been spent sitting on a good sore bottom.
Contributor: Erin