I’m probably one of your younger readers, and I’m not entirely sure you will approve of my story as it does not contain an actual punishment. However, it does recall my ‘coming of age’ as regards to spanking – and how I realised that what you wish for isn’t always what you want.
I found the Maman site in a search while trying to help myself understand my feelings and desires. Your site has shown me that those feelings and desires are not that unusual.
I come from a very privileged background – my parents are high-flyers in the city. I had a nanny for a few short years, then went to a private school as a day boy. I have never wanted for anything and feel loved, secure and – for the most part – very content. In short, I have nothing to complain about and know how lucky I am.
Most of the ‘posh’ boys I went to school with were either boarders or lived quite far away from me, which hindered me making friends whom I could play with at evenings and weekends.
However, I did eventually become friends with a boy I will call Tom. We met at a skateboard park – we crashed into each other and became mates. Tom comes from what you might call a ‘normal’ background – semi-detached house and comprehensive school. His parents are cool and his mum particularly is great fun.
Anyway, back to those desires. What I could never work out was my strong desire to have my bottom smacked by a mature woman. Nanny never smacked me as a toddler, and neither did Mum. There was probably the odd playful pat, I guess, as is normal in the bringing up of any child. But overall, I don’t remember anything of note that I could point to as a reason for my interest in spanking.
Actually, what I wanted was rather more specific than ‘just’ a spanking. I ached to be turned over a mature woman’s knee, have my bottom bared and receive a long, sound hand spanking before being sent to bed. As I say, I hadn’t (and still don’t have) any logical explanation for this fetish. What I can tell you, however, is that when I did eventually find myself in the ‘holy grail’ of positions, I found that a fun spanking was more than enough to satisfy my craving.
Back then, of course, spankings were easy enough to find in cartoons and old comics. But these images of naughty cartoon children getting their bottoms smacked tended to irritate the itch, rather than scratch the scratch, if you know what I mean.
One day at Tom’s house, we were sitting in his back garden, having just returned from the skate park, when there was a commotion next door. A woman was scolding a child – she was not shouting but her voice was definitely raised, and I could hear most of what she was saying.
From what I could make out, it sounded like her little boy had done something naughty and she was disciplining him. “Look at this mess!” I heard her say. Tom didn’t take much notice of all this, as he continued to clean his skateboard, but I froze and concentrated on what was happening next door – literally just a garden fence separated me from the incident taking place there.
The next words I heard really excited me. “Don’t say you wasn’t warned what would happen!” the woman said. I didn’t hear anything by way of protest or apology from her child. It all went quiet for a few seconds – and then it happened.
An electric shock ran through me as I heard the sound of 10 distinct, hard smacks – hand to either legs or bottom – ring out. The smacks were crisp and clear, and perhaps applied to the boy’s bare bottom. I imagine the quiet pause was mum taking down his trousers and pants.
It was the first spanking I had ever overheard. There was no screaming or loud crying – just the sound of those 10 smacks, delivered quite quickly and very firmly. I should imagine they stung pretty good for a boy of his age, particularly if his buttocks were bare.
Finally, I heard his mum say in a firm, controlled voice: “When I say no, I mean no. Now, clean that up!” All went quiet on the other side of the fence – apart from the sound of a small boy sniffing and softly crying. I have to say, I found the whole experience an absolute turn-on, and I realised I had a firm erection in my own pants.
Had the boy’s mother smacked him standing up, or over her knee? I have no idea – the stupid fence was too high – but in my fantasy, the little boy’s bare bottom had been draped over his mum’s lap. Tom asked if I wanted to play a computer game, but I made my excuses and left – I had a hard-on to deal with!
I think it was around a week or so later that I was at Tom’s again when we saw mother and son arrive home in their car. She was a regular mum – leggings, trainers and T- shirt with blonde hair tied back in a pony tail. He was a normal kid of about six or seven, wearing shorts and a T-shirt. They couldn’t have been more normal. Both were smiling and waved at Tom and I as they went inside.
The next spanking event in my life was Tom’s birthday. I was one of six boys to attend his party. During the afternoon, I went into the kitchen to ask for a spoon or fork, or something like that.
Tom’s mum bent forward and whispered in my ear: “Did Tom tell you he got a birthday spanking?” This was extremely exciting news to me. At the time, I had no idea why she was telling me but I was nevertheless most grateful!
I had questions, of course.Most of all, I wanted to hear her say that she had put Tom across her knee. I just so wanted to hear her say those words! I asked when the spanking had happened and Tom’s mum said it was a surprise – she had playfully ‘attacked’ him to get him out of bed and smacked his bum while she was at it.
I was gutted – I’d have loved to have seen the incident. I didn’t want to appear too eager. I asked Tom’s mum if he was just lying on the bed, and did she make him count the smacks? I held my breath, a little voice inside my head saying: “Please say you put him over your knee!”
Sadly my little bubble was to burst. It turned out that Tom simply curled up in a ball and tried to wriggle away, although his mum had counted the smacks out loud.
I felt deflated, but all was not lost – I asked Tom’s mum if she would give me a spanking for my own birthday, which was coming up in a month or so. More disappointment – she would, but only with my parents’ permission. My frustration was becoming a problem. I so wanted – needed – someone to spank me!
I remembered that my own mother had always told me that she was there for me if I ever needed to talk. Even though she was very busy, she would make time for me, no matter what.
I began to ponder whether I could really talk to Mum about this. For a growing boy, it was embarrassing. Perhaps if I just asked her for permission to get a birthday spanking from Tom’s mum, it would be a start. But how the hell did you start to ask? Well, it turns out, it was easier than I thought…
One day, Mum and Dad asked me if I would like to invite Tom to join us at our holiday home for a week. Of course, I said yes, Tom was also over the moon and arrangements were made between our two sets of parents.
Later that week, preparations were in full flow for our getaway. Dad came home early – something unheard of. He was going on ahead a day early to do some work at the house before mum, Tom and myself arrived on the Sunday.
Dad cleared off on the Friday and I was home alone with Mum. Tom was to come over the following day and spend the night before the three of us left for our break early on Sunday morning. I was very excited about the whole thing, and that Friday evening I went to bed but tossed and turned. After what seemed like forever, I got up and went to the kitchen for a drink. It wasn’t actually that late – it just felt like it.
Suddenly, Mum appeared, which made me jump. I was sitting there in just a pair of pyjama bottoms, so it must have been warm. Mum asked if I felt unwell and I remember explaining that I couldn’t sleep. I’m rather ashamed to say that it didn’t go unnoticed on my part that my mother had changed into shorts and an old T-shirt – I saw a lot more leg than I was used to, and it was difficult not to look!
Mum got a glass of water and asked if there was something on my mind which was preventing me from getting off to sleep. “If only you knew,” I thought. How about: “Hey Mum, can you put me across your knee, spank me, then send me to bed?”
Finally, I decided to tell Mum about Tom’s birthday spanking. I told her his mum had let me in on the secret, and that it sound like fun. Hint, hint!
Mum smiled: “Well, I can certainly give you a spanking if that’s what you want?” I was gobsmacked – here I was, suddenly having this conversation with my mother about corporal punishment.
Mum asked me where and how Tom had got ‘done’. I told her the truth, of course, but then added hesitantly: “I don’t think I’d want a play fight, rolling around on the bed, before I got spanked. I think I’d prefer my mum to wait until after breakfast and do it in another position.”
I was willing her to to say the words, and suddenly she did: “Well, I’m sure I can manage that. You’re not too big to be put across my knee, you know!” Yes! Yes! Thank you, Mum! She said the words.
I experienced the same rush I had felt when listening to the little boy getting spanked. My inhibitions melted away in the heat of the moment as I asked: “How do you know? You’ve never put me across your knee.” Mum looked at me with amusement: “Well, then, come over here – we’ll soon find out whether you’re too old to have your bottom smacked!”
I went cold with the sheer excitement, my palms were sweaty and my heart was pumping like crazy. I was really about to find out what it was like to be spanked, and even better it was to be over my beloved mum’s knee.
My legs were a bit wobbly, but I managed to take a few steps forward towards my mother. “Go on, then – prove it!” I challenged. Mum placed her glass of water on the table and turned her chair slightly. She then took my hand, turned me sideways and with a tug encouraged me over her knees.
“So,” she said, “let’s see if this naughty boy is too big to be turned over his mummy’s knee!” Well, it turned out I wasn’t! Mum, rather expertly in my humble opinion, had me in position in a split second. She placed her hand on my bare back, then smacked the seat of my pyjama bottoms a few times. It was just a half dozen smacks, but I had a very nice warm, fuzzy feeling in my pyjamas. It was wonderful!
“Well, it seems I was right and you were wrong,” Mum said. I didn’t want it to end there, so I slowly kicked my legs, waved my arms and cried ‘ouch’. I said, in mock dramatic style: “Oh, the agony! I can’t take any more, Mum!”
To her eternal credit, and my eternal gratitude, Mum played along. She continued smacking me, and added some scolding into the mix. I in turn kept up the act, promising never to be ‘naughty’ again and pleading for her to stop because my bum was on fire. I promised I would go straight to bed like a good boy if she would stop spanking me. We were both laughing, however, and Mum continued to add some warmth to the seat of my pyjamas.
Now, here’s the thing. I was 12 years old at the time, and three weeks away from becoming a teenager. It seemed like I had been wishing for this experience forever, and I had found the reality to be nothing but fun.
Here comes the ‘but’. As she continued to smack and laugh, it dawned on me that my young bottom was beginning to feel decidedly warm. Even through pyjama bottoms, Mum’s playful smacks were making themselves felt, and my behind was starting to sting for real.
I stopped wriggling and lay quite still. I remember saying: “I promise I will be a good boy and go straight to bed” but then just lying there and concentrating on the inevitable build-up of warmth in my pyjama bottoms.
My brow furrowed as I came to realise that what I had been wishing for might not, in other circumstances, be not fun at all. If Mum’s hand could sting so much, just playing and through the seat of my pyjamas, how on earth would a proper, sound spanking on my bare bottom feel?
It was at that moment, draped over my mother’s knee being mildly spanked and scolded, that I decided I didn’t fancy the thought of a real spanking quite so much anymore.
We played the game for what felt like ages, and Mum said the ‘magic words’ several times. “Clearly, it’s no problem for me to put you over my knee for a smacked bottom, young man. I think we’ll do this again on your birthday – but much, much harder and at least three times longer!”
She was brilliant at this roleplay, and clearly a very good spanker, making me wonder later in life what she and Dad got up to behind closed doors!
As for me, I had found myself – I had found what I had been looking for. I relaxed, even though my bottom stung a fair bit, and listened to Mum’s telling off and the sound of her hand smacking my bottom.
My erection had disappeared for a while but things began to stir again in those pyjamas. I have no idea if mum could feel it – I don’t think so, because it wasn’t a full erection but I was certainly swollen down there.
Luckily for my modesty, Mum decided the game was up and she began to wind things up. “Have you learned your lesson? Are you ready to be a good boy and go straight to bed?” Of course, I answered in the affirmative. I was indeed ready to go to bed. I had an erection to deal with, and I had some thinking to do.
To cover my ’embarrassment’, when Mum let me up off her knee, I sank into her arms and hugged her. I whispered lots of promises about being being a good boy. “You’d better be,” she replied, “or you’ll be back over my knee in future, now we know you’re not too big for a smacked bottom!”
I hastily bid her goodnight and went to bed. I had a wank, then settled down in my bed. The warm tingling in my newly-smacked bottom was absolute bliss. I remember sleeping very well that night. I was satisfied, content and confident. I was a boy who knew just what it felt like to have his bum smacked.
We had a brilliant week at our holiday home. Mum somehow seemed different. Maybe it was just my imagination, but she seemed more tactile than usual. There was the odd pat on the bottom for both Tom and myself – something mum had never done before. I have to admit, I loved it.
My birthday, three weeks later, was a lifetime highlight. I received two birthday spankings – one from Tom’s mother and one from my own mum. Both were given in the over-the-knee position I loved so much. Tom’s mum made hers fun – but what a spanking my own mother dished out! I will write about that day separately.
I now have a steady girlfriend. She doesn’t know about my spanking fetish yet. I can only hope that when I get the courage up to tell her about it, she will understand.