A sorry little boy

When my son Sam was 11 years old, he got himself into some trouble at school. Sam earned a half-hour of after-school detention for not doing his homework. 

As a mother, I had two big problems with this. First of all, getting into any kind of trouble at school was a big ‘no no’ in our house – we made it a point of principle to always punish the children again in these circumstances.

More seriously, though, I had asked Sam every night that week if his homework was done, and he had basically lied to my face multiple times by telling me it was.

So, as you can imagine, I was not at all pleased with him. When he got home from school, I took his pants and underpants away from him, then put him across my lap and tore into his bottom with my hairbrush until he was howling.

After a few good minutes of paddling Sam’s bare bottom, I made him sit down and do all of the homework he had failed to complete. What’s more, I let him know that we were going to talk about him lying to me after it was done.

He cried, sniffled and squirmed as he sat on a kitchen chair doing his homework. He was still bare bottomed and I could clearly see his well-reddened buttocks pressed against the pale wood of that hard chair.

When Sam had finally got done with both that day’s homework and catching up on his missing assignments, it was already past his dinner time. However, of course there was to be no supper for that naughty little boy. 

Instead, I took him upstairs to the bathroom off my bedroom. I lathered up a bar of soap and thoroughly washed out every bit of that untruthful little mouth.

Once I was satisfied that every bit of my son’s mouth was properly scrubbed, I had him hold the soap in his mouth for five minutes before letting him spit (but not rinse). Then I gave him a few hard smacks with my hand on his bare behind, before telling him to go and sit on his bed and wait for me. 

I took a thick leather belt out of the closet. I had bought the belt a few years before for Sam’s older sister, but it was the first time it was going to be used on my son’s bottom. I felt he deserved it, though.

I went into his room, carrying the instrument of correction. As soon as he saw the belt, Sam began to desperately plead and beg not to be given it (I suspect he may have seen the state of his sister’s bottom after a few encounters with it). However, I told him flat out that lying would not be tolerated in my house, and he was definitely going to be belted.

I put a couple of pillows in the middle of the his bed and ordered him to lie face down with them underneath his bottom, to raise it up properly for the punishment.

Then I belted him. I gave him 25 hard licks across his already-red backside, then added 25 more across his upper thighs. Finally, I left him to cry himself to sleep. 

The next morning, I woke Sam up with a few smacks of my hand on his still very sore bottom. He was very contrite but I didn’t feel at all bad about having disciplined him harshly. Sam was due to serve his detention that afternoon, and I told him he could count himself a very lucky boy indeed if I didn’t spank him again when I got him home that night.

I actually didn’t spank again, but I’m sure that the threat – and sitting all day on a still very tender young bottom – made sure Sam was thinking about that possibility for the rest of the school day.

Contributor: Janice

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