I should begin my little story by telling you about a recent discussion I had with my now very elderly mother. Apparently, when I was quite young, she had reason to smack my legs as a punishment. I responded with a curt ‘didn’t hurt!’
This was not a smart move, as Mum apparently promptly pulled my knickers down, turned me over her knee and spanked my bare bottom thoroughly until I cried. I was then asked: “Does that hurt enough?”
You may be surprised to hear that I personally don’t recall this momentous event. Quite how someone who even as a young girl thoroughly enjoyed the thought of having her bottom smacked cannot remember such an event is beyond me, but I have a complete blank.
Moving on to my school days, I daydreamed my way through one teacher’s class for a year. He was a middle-aged gentleman, smartly dressed and smoked a pipe. I suppose he had that ‘uncle’ aura about him.
Quite often, I would daydream about him giving me a terrible scolding before turning me over his knee for a sound spanking. I was often quite wet and horny after his class.
I did receive four whacks of the plimsoll (aka slipper) during senior school. The punishment was not particularly painful, although I didn’t let on, just in case the person administering it decided to follow my mother’s example. Sadly for me, the teacher wielding the slipper was a woman. I would have much preferred a man to administer my punishment – especially the uncle-like teacher with the pipe!
As I got older, I dated a few boys – however none were very much interested in smacking my bottom. Eventually I met Paul, who became my husband. He was happy to spank me, and did a fine job. His only requirement was that I dressed up as a St Trinian’s-style schoolgirl. White knee socks and flat shoes do nothing for him – stockings and heels are more his thing.
I was happy to oblige, because Paul spanked me so very soundly. He would turn me over his knee and smack my bottom hard for 10 or 15 minutes. Goodness me, it stung! However, the resulting corner time and sex made every smack so worth it. I wish I had a pound for every time over the years that I’ve stood in the corner, hands on my head, with a glowing, hot backside. I find it quite therapeutic – it clears the mind when the only thing you can concentrate on is the scorching fire spreading through your bottom.
After one such session, early on in our marriage, I questioned Paul about any spankings he had received as a boy. He remembered two. The first was really just a playful smacked bum from his aunt and mum.
Paul thinks he was around six at the time. He was wearing a ‘Lone Ranger’ style mask and told his aunt to ‘stick ’em up!’, pretending to rob her. In reply, his aunt told him she was an undercover policewoman and that he was under arrest. She took him by the ear to see ‘the judge’ – Paul’s mum, sitting nearby.
The aunt told the judge what the naughty little robber had done. Paul’s mum said he would have to go to jail for 10 years, but his aunt suggested a spanking instead. The judge agreed and Paul had his bottom smacked by both his aunt and mum.
Both women turned him over their knee and gave him a few smacks. Paul said it was all good fun but it didn’t turn him on. He laughed when his aunt took her turn and smacked first. When it came to his mum, she scolded him and told him that robbery was a very serious crime and that his bottom should be smacked very hard. Paul says his mum smacked a little harder than his aunt but it didn’t really hurt – just stung a little.
Paul’s second spanking was for ignoring his mum after she had told him to sit on the naughty chair. He had been forbidden from moving off the chair until his mother gave him permission to do so.
Anyway, Paul turned on the television (because sitting on the naughty chair was boring), then his mum came into the room and asked how the television had come to be turned on?
Paul explained innocently that he had turned it on because he had been bored – his mother replied that that was the point! He was not supposed to leave the chair, and he had disobeyed her.
She pulled his trousers down, put him across her knee and – sitting on the very same chair – proceeded to smack his bottom hard. Paul said he cried more from the telling-off than the actual spanking, but admitted it really did sting for some time after. For some reason, he had expected his punishment would be the same as the playful spanking he had received from his aunt and mum earlier. So when his mum smacked him hard and fast, it was a shock.
Even worse was the length of time the spanking took – Paul recalled thinking that 0his mum would never stop. He admitted it was extremely painful and he learned his lesson that day – if his mum told him to do something, he did it. So, obviously, the spanking he received did its job – spankings work!
Finally, I want to tell you about the one and thankfully only spanking that I have ever administered. I say ‘thankfully’ because it’s really not a nice thing to smack your own son’s bottom – but I did it, and this is why…
On this particular day, my son came into the lounge and proudly announced he had fed our dog Digger his dinner. What my son had actually done was feed Digger our dinner – the meat I had left to cool on the side was now inside a very content looking pooch!
I was furious. I instructed my son to go to his room because I was so angry. Instead of obeying, he asked ‘why?’ Well, that was a mistake rather like me saying ‘didn’t hurt’ when I got my legs smacked as a girl!
I saw the red mist – I know you should never spank a child when angry, but I was prepared to make an exception in this case. I took my son by the arm over to a chair. I pulled his trousers right down to his ankles, his pants followed and I manhandled him across my knee. I smacked him very hard and was determined to make him cry – he had to learn that he had done wrong.
My son held out longer than I had expected but eventually the tears started to flow. I smacked him until I was quite sure he would never want to repeat the exercise. His little bottom was bright red and he howled the house down.
Once I was satisfied my son had been punished sufficiently, I stood him up in front of me and warned him with my most serious face. “You will go to bed without supper because you fed supper to Digger. If you come out of your bedroom before tomorrow morning, I will put you back across my knee and smack your bottom even harder and longer!”
I turned him towards the door and helped him on his way with a final hard slap to his bare behind. He struggled to pull his trousers and pants up as he staggered away. I followed up behind him with another hard smack before his bottom was covered by his trousers.
Afterwards, I felt upset but justified. When Paul came in, I told him to go and fetch some fish and chips. I explained later what had happened – Paul looked a bit surprised but backed my decision to spank. His only comment was: “You do know that if he comes out of his room before he’s allowed, you’ll have to tan him again? Otherwise, you’ll have lost all your authority.”
Luckily, our boy heeded my warning and stayed in his room. When I went up to bed later, I stood outside his door for a little while. I was sure I could hear sniffing and grizzling, and was content that the sore bottom was doing its work. The following morning I made my peace with him – I explained his ‘crime’ and he clearly understood he shouldn’t have done what he did.
In later years, our son has occasionally mentioned this one and only spanking, and comment that it had a positive deterrent effect on him throughout his teenage years. I told him that I hated to do it at the time, but he understood my reasons.
Occasionally, he will tell off his own daughters and warns them that if granny hears of their naughtiness, she will smack their bottoms. So far, the threat alone has kept them in check! Actually, I sincerely hope I am never in the position where I am called upon to smack them – I’m not sure that I would, except for a few playful smacks.
All in all, I prefer to receive rather than give. Our sex life is still very good and my bottom is smacked, very hard, regularly.
So there you have it – I am the one in our family with the spanking fetish. I have been spanked soundly as both a child and a wife, and I have unfortunately had to spank our son – just once, but that was once too many for me.
Today, I very much enjoy reading stories online of naughty schoolgirls being spanked across their daddy or uncle’s knees – it is my fantasy. However, I do read the stories where other mums have had to spank their sons or daughters – they at least make me feel better, knowing I’m not the only one to have smacked my child’s bottom.
I have noted several stories recently on Maman where sons have asked their mothers for a spanking. I sometimes try to put myself in those mums’ shoes. On balance, I think I would grant the child their wish. A smacked bottom isn’t the end of the world and if my son had asked, I would have spanked him until he had had enough.
For most, I suspect that once their curiosity is satisfied, they may well realise that a proper smacked bottom stings and hurts, so they may be less inclined to misbehave – unless, like me, they really enjoy a good sound spanking!