I come from a large family, where the primary punishment for more serious misbehaviour was to be spanked, and spanked very hard indeed.
When I was younger, my spankings were given by my mother. Sometimes I would be the only child to be spanked spanked, but often I would be punished with a brother or sister. We would all be ushered into my parents’ bedroom, stripped naked and put over Mother’s lap. When we were very young, we were just spanked by hand, but from the age of about seven, our bottoms were introduced to the back of a hairbrush.
My father was always present during the punishments and would encourage my mother during the process. He would say things like ‘you missed a spot there on her backside’, ‘I think they need another minute to let the lesson sink in’ or ‘start spanking them like you mean it’. All such remarks would strike terror into us, as they were invariably followed by a harder and longer punishment.
When I was younger, I was much more concerned with the pain that was about to be inflicted on my bare bottom rather than who was watching my naked body. However, I did notice the smirks that crawled across the older children’s faces and of course the fear on those who were going to be spanked next.
As I entered puberty, and my breasts started to develop and hair started to grow down below, the embarrassment of being naked was a powerful motivator to behave as much as the sting applied to my hind quarters.
Once we reached 12, spankings were no longer given over Mother’s knee as most of us became too big to be effectively punished this way. Instead, we were promoted to the paddle for most offences and the belt for being really naughty.
These punishments were given the family room, and as each of us children grew older, these occasions offered more to see – or, in the case of the victim, dread being on display. I remember my brothers invariably had erections both before their spankings and afterwards, as they were stood against the wall as an additional punishment. Only during the spanking itself, as the paddle or belt set fire to their behinds, would their penises shrink back to the more modest flaccid size of a young boy.
As for us girls, our nipples got rock hard from fear and our breasts bounced around as we too kicked and squirmed while being punished. I developed rather large breasts early, and when the time came that I appreciated the ‘bouncing boob show’ I was putting on for my brothers, well, my face turned much redder than even my bottom.
For those of us who were witnessing the event, a prime viewing spot just behind the victim’s bottom. That offered good entertainment, as everything was visible from that angle, both the boys’ scrotums and penises and the girls’ vaginas.
At this age, for the paddle or the belt you were bent over the arm of the couch, which raised your bottom high and made for a perfect target. As Mother administered the spanking, Father would hold you down in position – you could (and would) kick all over the place as the paddle did its work, but you were not going anywhere.
After my mother had completed the spanking, my father would go behind the child in question and inspect the results. Hopefully, he would say that it looked like you had learned your lesson. However, if he ordered a further spanking, he would go back and hold you down again and the spanking which followed would be truly unbearable.
For the most severe infractions, it was my father’s leather work belt (which hung in the closet) that would be applied to our naked bottoms. Mother would be the one to hold us down for this, as Father thrashed us. He was naturally much stronger than my mother, and tears and screams would start from the very first stroke.
A belt spanking would only end when your buttocks were bruised and your voice hoarse from crying and yelling. Again, there would be an inspection of the child’s bottom and my mother this time would advise on whether more attention was needed. These were usually on the ‘sit spot’ where the crease of the buttocks meets the thighs.
As I grew older, there were other things that I noticed. Boys watching the punishments would develop large bulges in their pants, while for us girls, our nipples were clearly visible, no matter what we were wearing.
As older children, we always had to stand against the wall for about half an hour before being allowed to grab our clothes and run back to our bedrooms to recover.
If there was more than one child being punished – and particularly if they were of opposite sex – eyes would surreptitiously flit over to the other to catch a glimpse of what they had on display. Sometimes, other members of the family would remain to gaze upon the red, bruised bottoms or privates on show.
I must say, however, that I never was given a spanking I didn’t deserve, and there were many times when I should have probably been spanked, but wasn’t. As painful and embarrassing as those punishments were, they were an important learning tool and I am thankful my parents gave me the discipline I needed while growing up.