My husband Dave showed me some stories that you have published where sons have requested a spanking from their mothers – my own story is also along those lines. I should add that as a mum, some of the stories on Maman have moved me greatly. It is a strange feeling when a young boy asks you for a smacked bottom and, I agree with previous contributors, very emotional.
I take my hat off to any mum who has complied with their son’s request, playful or otherwise. I do wonder why young boys always seem to approach their mums for a spanking rather than fathers – the psychology fascinates me.
Dave tells me he tried this very trick when he was five years old – he wriggled across his mother’s lap and encouraged her to playfully smack his bum. She didn’t take the hint, though, and he felt hurt and rejected. Indeed, the first time he experienced a proper spanking was early in our own relationship, when he confessed these desires to me.
I must admit, I had no idea what I was doing at that time – I had zero experience in spanking, or any interest in the subject at that point. However I was in love and his desire seemed pretty harmless, so I agreed to spank him one afternoon. We have kept it as part of our sex life ever since, and I am now a very experienced spanker.
The subject of my story is a boy called Tony. He and his parents moved in next door to us some years ago, and he was just a year younger than my own son. Shortly after the family arrived, Tony’s mother was killed in a road accident. It was an awful time for everyone, especially for Tony and his poor father.
We did the best we could to help and Tony became an extended member of our family – he is like a second son to me and I love him dearly. His father did his best and was a good dad, but threw himself into his work to cope with the loss of his wife. More often than not, Tony would eat with us after both boys returned from school, then would return to his own home when his dad returned after work – which was often quite late.
There came a time when I noticed a change in Tony’s mood over several days. Suspecting possible bullying at school, I questioned him one evening – and he explained his feelings quietly, and with the odd tear.
Apparently, Tony’s class had been learning about the Victorians, and one part of the lesson had been about workhouses, crime and punishment. Their teacher had explained in particular how children were treated very differently back then. They also discussed classroom punishments and how they had changed over the years.
Then the teacher asked for a show of hands. “How many of you have ever had a smacked bottom off your parents for being naughty?” According to Tony, most of his classmates raised their hand – it transpired that only Tony and three of the girls had never been smacked at all. Tony said he felt embarrassed by this revelation – it kind of reminded him that he didn’t have a mum any more. It made him feel different, the odd one out, and this had greatly upset him. Tony’s big thing was to be considered ‘normal’ – difficult for a boy who has lost his mother in such tragic circumstances.
I gave Tony a hug and did my best to cheer him up. I pointed out that here in our home he was perfectly normal, as I had never spanked my own son either. That seemed to reassure him a little but he still took himself off to bed earlier than usual. I felt for him – he hated to be thought of as the odd one out.
During the course of the next day or two I kept my eye on Tony. He was still a little downcast, and being the only boy in his class never to have been spanked was clearly bothering him. So I resolved to help!
I mulled the situation over for a day or so, then came up with an idea. I spoke to Tony’s father about my plan (which I had dubbed in my head ‘Operation Normal’) and he gave his permission. Dave was also in on the plan, and approved. The one person we kept it from was my own son.
As discussed and planned, the following Saturday morning Tony’s father made himself scarce, then I found the boy and called him to me – the poor lad had absolutely no idea what was about to happen!
I put on a stern face. “Tony,” I said, don’t you remember that I told you to sweep the leaves up from your patio this morning?” Tony looked confused – not surprisingly, since no such request had ever been made!
I kept my stern face on, and put a finger under his chin to make him look me in the eye. “You’ve been a very naughty boy!” I continued. “Get sweeping right now! And when you’re done, come and see me for a smacked bottom, trousers and pants down!”
My husband often compliments me on my role-playing skills, and they certain paid dividends that morning. Tony went white as a sheet – he was terrified. I’ve never seen a boy turn so pale before. He hesitated, unsure of what to say next, and I shouted sternly: “Out!”
He flew out through the back door. I had to smile – I’d never seen that boy move so fast! My plan was that, given time to think things through while he collected the leaves, Tony might ‘twig’ that I was playing a game with him, to help him feel ‘normal’. He would then be able to say he had joined the massed ranks of the spanked members of his class. That was the most important thing for Tony – he just wanted to be treated equally for better or worse.
I watched him on and off as he worked. He looked over at our house now and then, possibly to see if I was watching him. Eventually he finished the sweeping – the patio had never looked so tidy!
He disappeared for a bit while he moved the bags of leaves and sweepings, then suddenly he appeared at my door. He offered the most profuse apology that any boy of his age could possibly muster. He even offered to sweep our own patio to make up for his ‘misbehaviour’. I stood as stony-faced as I could, arms folded, and listened to him. It was perfectly clear he had accepted he was going to be spanked – there was no indication of trying to wriggle out of his ‘punishment’.
“Well, young man,” I said at last, “I think we will have you sweeping our patio too – but not before we’ve gone back to your house to give you that sound spanking I mentioned. Maybe you’ll remember better if you have to do your second job with a good sore bottom!” Tony nodded obediently, eyes cast down. I took the boy by the hand and marched him over to his house.
We went into the dining room, and I slammed the door behind us to make him jump. The next step would be tricky, and I had thought it through quite carefully. I had no intention of really hurting Tony, but a mild sting in his tail wouldn’t do him any harm. Striking the right balance would be key – I was used to spanking my adult husband quite soundly, so I knew I would need to show considerable restraint.
“Take down your trousers!” I ordered. As he complied, I turned a dining chair around and sat down it, my arms folded and glaring at him sternly. So far, my plan had worked perfectly.
I raised a stern finger and said: “Tony, you are no different to any other naughty boy, and so you are going to get the spanking you deserve – right now!’
It was then that Tony threw a massive spanner in the works – he burst into tears! Huge sobs, drawing deep breaths, in a totally emotional outpouring. This threw me – I was all set to spank the boy, but instead he fell into my arms and sobbed like I had never heard a child cry before. He wept for a good two minutes, then finally stepped back and tried his best to compose himself. He gulped back the tears and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
“Thank you for treating me like a normal boy,” he said, and my heart melted at the word. “Please…make it hurt.”
At those words, I hardened my resolve (which had thoroughly collapsed during his emotional outburst). “Tony, tears are not going to get you out of a sore bottom! Come here, let’s get you across my knee.”
I took his hand and placed him face down on my lap. He went without a murmur of protest but another round of crying began as I adjusted his position and pulled his pants down, exposing his little white bottom. Tony was bawling like a baby and I hadn’t even yet laid a hand on him – it was difficult to feel anything but deep sympathy for the lad. It was a very emotional moment, something Tony must have been building up to for a long time.
For myself, I had expected him to be in this sort of state after his spanking, but not before. Clearly, the way he was being treated – like a naughty little boy being punished – was having a deep emotional effect on him.
As hard as it was in the circumstances, I set about smacking his bottom. I had planned to go slowly at first and scold him, but there seemed little point in rebuking a boy who was sobbing uncontrollably. I had barely given him a few mild ‘starter’ smacks when he had flopped like a rag in defeat and just lay there crying. There was no howling or protesting because I’d given him nothing to get animated about, so I took my time and smacked at a steady rate that he could absorb and accept.
It was certainly a very different experience to spanking my husband for his – and ulitmately my own – sexual pleasure. Tony’s bottom was tiny by comparison – my hand pretty much covered both buttocks each time I struck him, but I kept my smacks steady and alternated from cheek to cheek as best I could. After perhaps a minute his bum was a uniform light pink.
Interestingly, I noticed he had stopped crying – perhaps the spanking was beginning to take effect and had concentrated his thoughts? I smacked a little faster, though no harder, and the characteristic bum clenching and toe pointing began. Tony began to suck in air between his teeth and hold his breath.
Then the squirming started, and there was no doubt now that he was being made to feel like a real naughty boy. I recognised all the emotions that my husband goes through, albeit after a more thorough spanking, but the sequence was essentially the same.
Tony’s hand waved about and after a couple of false starts came back to protect his bottom. I was expecting that and dealt with it easily. He wriggled a bit more, and started with the apologies and the promises – always a sign that a spanking is beginning to have the desired effect!
However, as I stated earlier, this was not really a punishment – it was an exercise in making Tony feel ‘normal’ – that there were no special rules or exemptions for him He had been ‘naughty’ and was being spanked like a regular little boy.
I felt that my hand had made its point, and there was no reason to smack Tony further, so I stopped and gave him a breather. I think his bottom was stinging suffiently!
Now I spoke up. “You will be going to sweep our patio straight after your pants come back up, and if it’s anything less than perfect, they will be coming down again and you will be going across my knee for a second time. Is that what you want?” “No, no!” Tony begged. “I’ve learned my lesson, honest!” “Well, let’s just make sure, shall we?”
That last phrase is one my husband has come to dread over the years. He knows it means I’m about to apply the small wooden paddle to his bare backside. I thought that too harsh for Tony, but I did give him a final 15-second burst of enthusiastically applied smacks to that little bare bottom. His protests and yells rose around an octave as I did so.
By the time I had finished, that bottom was dark pink – enough to sting nicely but not overly painful. It looked like a reasonably well-smacked bottom. There were more tears but once more, the emotion of the moment was more responsible for these than the sting of my hand.
I pulled Tony’s pants up and helped him to his feet, helping him regain balance as he pulled his jeans back up. I took him by the hand and we went back over to my own home. As we walked, I felt a tiny squeeze from Tony’s hand and he said in a low voice: “Thank you.” I nearly cried myself then.
My husband asked how things had worked out and I gave him a detailed account. “The lucky little sod!! was Dave’s reaction. Actually, my husband had no need to be jealous as I sorted him out properly later that evening!
Of course, I also spoke to Tony’s dad afterwards. He told me that Tony now seemed somehow much happier in himself – and he gave me permission to spank his son again if it ever became necessary.
The following day, Tony bought me a box of chocolates and thanked me so much I once more almost burst into tears myself. “I just wanted to be treated like any other boy, you know?” I nodded. “I understand. How’s that little bottom of yours?” He blushed a bit at this reference to his private place but managed to reply in a small voice: “It did sting a bit afterwards, especially when I sat down for dinner later, but it was just warm when I went to bed.”
Then he looked me in the eye. “If I ever need to be spanked again, can I come to you?” I hugged him. “You can – but please, Tony, never give me a reason to spank you for real.”
As for me, well it was certainly emotional. So I fully understand some of the other stories you have published, and I tip my hat to those mums who have stepped up when their sons have asked them to smack their bottoms. For me, that is true motherly love – it’s something my husband missed out on and he still bears the scars of neglect. He didn’t have the best relationship with his mother, and he traces that back to the day he tried in his own way to ask for a few smacks on his bum. Being a mother can be very rewarding, but sometimes it’s the hardest job.
To wrap up, yes my husband got a very sore bottom that night – and still does, regularly. It’s purely sexual pleasure for him, but I get my pleasure afterwards in spades!
And yes, one day Tony came back and asked for another smacked bottom. It went down in much the same way as before – that small, boyish bare bottom over my knee while I made him a dark pink. This time, he was less emotional to begin with – but the tears again started long before my hand had caused anywhere near enough of a sting to make him cry. As before, my intention was only to cause a little discomfort, not to seriously hurt him.
Afterwards, he thanked me with a passion and hugged me – and yes, he bought me chocolates again! These intimate moments became something of a private joke between us. Sometimes, if Tony was being too cheeky or perhaps having an off day, I would ask: “Tony, do we need to discuss sweeping the patio?” That always snapped him out of it!
It was the fact that he could come and talk to me that created such a bond between us. I had his confidence and treated him, in his eyes, without favour. He knew I had never spanked my son and thought it odd that I hadn’t.
One day, when my son was present and we were all messing around, I threatened Tony with a smacked bottom for being cheeky. My husband encouraged me and Tony dared me, so I smacked his bum (over his jeans) half a dozen times, and we all had a giggle when I sent him to the naughty corner for five minutes. I should say that I offered my son a turn that day, in the name of fairness, and he unsurprisingly declined my offer! My husband winked at me but I ignored him. As far as I’m aware, our son still knows nothing about the occasions when I spanked Tony bare bottom.
We are all still one big happy family and see each other regularly. The boys are the best of friends – our son was best man at Tony’s wedding, and vice versa. I am very proud of them both. Tony’s dad is still single and still living next door. He comes for Sunday lunch every week. Tony didn’t move far away and we see him regularly, with his lovely new wife. I think you could say that ‘Operation Normal’ was a spanking success!