I hesitated to share this with you – my finger actually hovered over the delete button – but I decided to send it after all, as I have felt empathy with some recent stories where mums have been in the same boat as me. I hope my story will help others, as others have helped me.
I’m a Texan girl, born and raised. Circumstances or fate decided at an important time in my life that I should fall pregnant. The father disappeared, and after a painful period of my life I’d rather forget, I left home. I accepted a transfer to London, England within my company and arrived there with a three-year-old daughter and a head full of dreams. It was a brave decision and it paid off – I’ve never looked back.
My company arranged for someone to meet me at the airport to welcome me and show me the ropes. His name was Andy. Andy was kindness personified – funny, cute and had that wonderful English accent. To annoy me, to this day he speaks with a terrible American accent at times. We’ll get to how I deal with that later!
Andy was wonderful. He showed me around the company offices and showed me around London and just plain made me feel welcome. We live in the suburbs now but I love England and the English.
A major figure in this saga is Andy’s son Adam [names have been changed – Ed]. Andy’s wife abandoned Adam as a young boy after the couple divorced. She never harmed Adam, but ignored him for the most part. As a result, the boy became introverted and very quiet, speaking only when he had to. Adam had never been hugged, cuddled, praised or enjoyed a mother’s love – I felt for him deeply.
Andy did the father stuff – he is brilliant with both my daughter and his own son – but from my first meeting with Adam, it was clear he needed mothering. I did my best, but he was hard work – distant and reluctant to trust me. I couldn’t help but love him, though – he was an uber-polite, quiet little boy of six when we met. I moved in with Andy after a few months and we became a ‘family’ unit. I wasn’t homesick in the least – too many unhappy memories back there.
One evening, we had eaten and Andy wanted to watch the rugby on the telly. As we watched the game, out of the blue Andy started a play fight with my by now four-year-old daughter. He called out: “Fe fi fo fum! I’m going to smack a little girl’s bum!” Sarah laughed and ran for her life, which amused me because she had to my knowledge never heard the words before and had certainly never had her bum smacked.
Andy caught her easily, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He then took her off to bed, smacking her bottom gently as he went. She squealed with laughter all the way, clearly enjoying the game. Of course, children being children, the game was demanded the next evening, and the next, and became something of a fixture – the little madam wouldn’t go to bed without the ‘giant’ carrying her there, smacking her bottom as they went.
One evening I was watching this by now familiar spectacle in the lounge when Adam appeared from nowhere. Adam was by now seven years old. In typical Adam style, he asked very politely if he could join in with the bedtime game.
Well, I could hardly refuse, especially given his background of being denied any real fun. So I explained that I would happily smack his bottom for him, and then he must go to bed. I explained that I wouldn’t carry him on my shoulder because he was a big boy now, but instead he was going to be taken to our office, where I would give him a smacked bottom, Texan style! Not that there is any such thing, of course – I just wanted to play around with him.
Adam’s face lit up. You would have thought I had told him he was getting a puppy. So, I told him to march himself to the office (which was really a spare room next to his bedroom). When we got there, Adam looked so happy at just from being allowed to join in a bit of bedtime fun. I pulled out the chair and sat down. Rolling up my sleeves, I threatened him with a sound Texan spanking. He smiled and nodded expectantly.
I pretended to spit on both my hands and ordered him to drop his pyjama bottoms. I rubbed my hands together and patted my knees, ordering to get across my knee. I’m a pretty tall girl, so once in position Adam couldn’t touch the ground on either side. He lay there still, without a sound. No words, no laughing – just typical Adam.
I smoothed his underpants and stretched them nice and tight across his behind. I talked up the spanking and told him he was a very naughty boy for not going straight to bed. I then patted his bottom about eight times. There wasn’t a mark on him, not the slightest hint of pink, nothing. It was a symbolic smacked bottom. It was also my first and it was kind of fun – I took great pleasure in seeing the boy’s face light up as I ‘dealt’ with him.
I returned him to his feet, pulled his pyjamas back, then sent him straight to bed. I followed and as he climbed into bed, Adam thanked me and said he had enjoyed his spanking very much. I kissed him goodnight, wondering whether, like my daughter’s game, this might become a pattern for a while. It was harmless fun – nothing else. It was so nice to see Adam smile, and I was happy to play the game for his sake.
There have been one or two stories recently published here where other mums have reported how a smacked bottom for fun has made little boys in particular very happy. This is something I now understand myself – and urge any mum to grant such a request.
With the children now safely in bed, I waited for the end of the rugby before telling Andy about what I’d just done. He said it was great that I had played the game with Adam. Andy reckoned that if I had tried to talk him the boy out of the experience – or, worse, refused it point blank, he would have been deeply hurt and it would have set back our relationship weeks, if not months.
Andy and I cuddled up and we had a little giggle about spanking the children every night before bedtime. During that conversation, I mentioned that my own mother had once spanked me with a hairbrush so soundly that I thought I would never sit again. I couldn’t remember the exact circumstances. It was something to do with a visit to church – which is probably why I don’t like churches these days!
Andy made me laugh as he recalled a smacked bottom he had received from his own mum. Back in the day, every house had a red doorstep and every Saturday morning, Andy’s mum would use tile polish and clean the step.
One morning, Andy’s mother was distracted – so he thought he’d help his mum by polishing the hallway carpet. He thinks he was five years old at the time. He beamed up at his mum when she returned to find her son, carpet and doormat all covered in red polish. Needless to say, mum wasn’t impressed! She put Andy across her knee and soon his bare bottom was the same colour as the tile polish.
After telling me about that incident, Andy then rather shyly confessed that although he certainly took no pleasure from the spanking at the time, it did have a profound long-term sexual effect on him. He subsequently often wondered about spanking and fantasised about being turned over a woman’s knee. His ex-wife wasn’t the type, not much fun apparently, so he had never discussed his fantasy, but he admitted he was curious.
I cuddled him intimately for a minute, then told him that if he wanted to try a spanking, we could give it a go one evening after the children were safely fast asleep – I didn’t much like the idea of one of the kids catching me with their dad bare-bottomed across my knee!
During the next few days, both Sarah and Adam received playful smacked bottoms before bed. Adam shyly approached me and asked if I could give him another Texan spanking? I told him this time he would get double the smacks because he hadn’t learned his lesson the first time around. He beamed with delight at this news!
I marched him to the office and we followed the same routine – I spat on my hands, rolled my sleeves and had him drop his pyjamas. I scolded him with a smile on my face and he stood there, listening intently. Then I turned him over my knee and smacked his little bottom around 15 times before sending him to bed with a hug and a kiss. Just as before, there was not a mark on him– they were just playful little pats. Afterwards, I tucked him up in bed and he closed his eyes. As I turned out the bedroom light, I noticed the smile on his face – bless.
Andy and I planned to try a little spanking fun ourselves at the weekend. There was no chance of us playing around until the children were both in bed, and we planned to get them off there as early as possible.
However, on Friday evening Adam threw me a curve ball. He returned from school to tell me that his teacher had told the whole class off for talking. She had warned them that the next child to talk in class would be made an example of, and she would spank him or her hard in front of the other children, as a warning to them all. I should add that this was during the days when corporal punishment was legal in British schools.
One boy had apparently ignored his teacher’s warning almost right away. He was dragged to the front of the classroom, put across his teacher’s knee and spanked as had been threatened. The smacking was given over the boy’s shorts but the punishment was no doubt humiliating and the boy cried. Adam described how the unfortunate boy had twisted around and kicked his legs as he was being spanked.
After class, several children had teased the boy for crying like a baby at getting a smacked bottom, but Adam was quick to point out that he wasn’t among them (this is why some of your previous stories submitted by other mums mean so much to me).
To my surprise, after relating this story Adam asked me to smack him a bit harder at bedtime that night – he wanted to know what what it felt like to be smacked like that boy had been.
Now, given Adam’s background, I had to think very carefully about this. I didn’t want to deny the request and upset him – but equally, I really didn’t want to smack him hard, especially as I had known as a girl what a real punishment felt like.
Adam discussed the episode at length and came to an agreement – I would smack him a wee bit harder and for longer. If he didn’t like it, he could ask me to stop and I would. It was a compromise and under the circumstances I still feel I did the right thing. I did manage to get a moment alone with Andy to talk about it and he gave me the green light.
Having read some of the other accounts from other mums, I do understand how they felt. It isn’t necessarily easy, particularly because more often than not, the child has done nothing to warrant a spanking. In one of those other stories, the mother said she felt like she was about to kill Bambi – I got that for sure!
Sarah was bathed and put to bed – funnily enough, no games with her that night. Once I had finished seeing to her, I found that Adam had disappeared. I found him in the office – waiting for me.
I closed the door, and triple-checked he was absolutely sure that he wanted to be smacked harder. He nodded. I wondered whether there was an element of guilt here – had the boy who had been smacked actually been talking to Adam? But apparently not.
I sat down and Adam dropped his pyjama bottoms. That evening, there was no messing about – no rolling up my sleeves or pretend spitting on my hands.
Then I spoke: “Adam, I’m going to smack your bottom just like a real naughty little boy. Now, I want to be clear, you haven’t been naughty, and if you want to at any time, all you have to say is ‘stop’ and I will. Do you understand?” A nod.
With a twinkle in my eye, I added: “If this was real, and you really had been a naughty boy like the one in school, I wouldn’t stop however much you begged me. I would carry on until I felt you had been spanked long and hard enough.”
And so to the moment of truth. I took his hand, pulled him close and whispered: “I love you!” For the very first time, Adam responded in kind – it was a very moving moment. Adam told me he loved me back, and what a time to do it! I did wonder if it was precisely because of what was about to happen that he said those words.
I touched his face and said very quietly: “If you are completely sure, Adam, get yourself across my knees and prepare to have your bottom smacked properly.”
He didn’t speak. He didn’t look at me. He just leaned forward and I helped him into the position. Once Adam was settled across my knees, I composed myself. (I had my ‘killing Bambi’ moment here!)
It suddenly dawned on me that I’d never done this – I’d never really smacked a bottom in my life! The only experience I had to draw on was the hairbrush spanking my mother had given me years ago, and that was no help at all.
Pulling myself together and asking myself ‘how hard can it be’, I prepared myself to smack Adam. I pulled his underwear down because I wanted to see what my hand was doing to his bottom. I had no plan other than to smack Adam and listen intently for him to call ‘stop!’ I patted his little bare bum and asked if he was ready. “Yes!” As I said before, Adam’s not one for words.
I brought my hand firmly on his bottom, and he jerked – more from the surprise that we had started than from any pain. It really couldn’t have hurt that much – as smacks go, it was pretty lame. Still, I got into my stride – I felt that if I went slowly, Adam would have time to ask me to stop.
Bearing in mind he was seven, he stayed quite still across my lap. I smacked him a few times and still there was no sound. I began to wonder if I was smacking hard enough – all at the same time, I was trying to smack Adam bottom but also trying not to hurt him, if that makes any sense? I’m sure it will to some mothers out there.
Nevertheless, I carried on slowly smacking his little bottom. It was now turning pink but there were still no sounds from my boy, although he did start making the odd little movement.
My own curiousity kicked in. Just how hard did you have to smack a seven-year-old boy? I gave him a couple of firmer whacks and waited for a reaction. The little bugger didn’t make a sound.
Then I gave him six what I considered to be quite hard smacks. Adam stiffened, then relaxed when I stopped. Just to remind your readers, at this time I was totally wet behind the ears in the spanking world. I now understand that you can in fact smack a seven-year-old reasonably hard if you really want to punish them.
I gave Adam a few more smacks and he began to wriggle a bit, but settled again after every spank. I was by now thinking that the boy at school would not have suffered this many smacks or been across his teacher’s knee for this long. That spanking was more likely a ‘short, sharp shock’ affair, hard and fast. It had never occurred to me to ask Adam about that aspect – but, after all, the teacher had made the boy cry this was through shorts, so she must have spanked pretty hard.
I gave Adam another dozen or so firm smacks and then, even though he had not called out for me to stop, I decided that was enough was enough – he at least now had a better idea of what his classmate had suffered.
I helped Adam to his feet, telling him the spanking was over. Imagine my horror when I saw his face and realised he had been silently crying throughout. I felt awful – I really had killed Bambi! I had watched and listened intently to my charge, but he had never made a sound.
I drew Adam to my bosom and squeezed the life out of him. He whispered that he loved me and thanked me spanking him. Oh, the emotion! I pulled myself together, pulled up his underwear and pyjamas and walked him, my arm around him, next door to his bed.
I kissed and hugged him for a little while longer, then said ‘goodnight’. As I made to leave him, Adam rolled on to one side and said to the wall: “I have a mum!”
Well, I went to the bathroom and blubbed! When Andy saw my face, he knew I’d been crying and wanted the full story. “You did just fine,” he told me, “and Adam will talk when he’s ready.” And the next day, it was just fine. Adam again thanked me for his spanking, said he was fine and went into the garden to play. He seemed happier than usual.
That evening we got them both off to bed in short order. Then it was another first for me, as I spanked Andy. It was a very different experience having a grown man across my knee – with a full erection between my thighs! We had lots of fun experimenting between two consenting adults, and what followed made it perfectly clear in which direction our sex life would be going.
As I mentioned before, I’m a tall girl (well, I am from Texas!) so in heels I am taller than Andy by a fair margin. Putting him across my knee and spanking him is easy, fun and surprisingly satisfying. I find it quite therapeutic – it’s mesmerising watching Andy’s bottom bounce under my hand, and the way it turns pink then red fascinates me. He wriggles about and passes his hand back, a signal that he would like me to smack harder.
We have tried the three positions relating to over the knee – both knees, one knee and legs crossed. We more often than not include all three in our games. We miss the children now they are away from home – but the plus side is we can indulge in our spanking games freely around the house at any time, rather than sneaking around after bedtime!
I must say, there is something quite decadent about scolding Andy and turning him over my knee in the kitchen or lounge without fear of being disturbed. More often than not, his teasing me with his awful American accent is the trigger. I used to hiss a warning so the children never knew what was going on. However, these days I don’t need to do this.
So there you have it – that brings us up to date. Sarah has never been ‘properly’ spanked but Andy occasionally threatens with the old game when she’s home from university. He only has to start the ‘fe fi fo fum’ nonsense and she’s laughing. He chases her around the house – but never seems to quite catch her these days.
Adam works now. After that momentous day, he had several other smacked bottoms – but all requested and all for fun. Birthday spankings were given and as he grew older, Adam teased me about how he couldn’t feel any of the smacks. Some of those birthday spankings dragged on a bit, until he conceded that his bum did indeed sting.
One in particular stands out – his 12th birthday. I was not going to have a 12-year-old boy tell me that I was rubbish at smacking bottoms! By then, I was more experienced, having had plenty of practice with Andy’s behind, and that was probably the hardest spanking Adam ever received. It was over shorts, with just my hand, but he got way more whacks than 12.
If memory serves, that was the one time I actually had to tighten my grip and got him wriggling like a proper naughty boy. He won’t admit it but he was genuinely trying to escape. We laughed before during and after – which shows how far Adam had come on by that stage. I must confess, I took up the challenge and smacked him pretty hard that day. I would have liked to have seen how pink his bottom was but by then he was a bit old for that. It was a bit naughty of me, but it was fun.
Adam was never spanked for punishment. In fact, he was so well behaved I don’t ever recall having cross words between us. He is a very special young man and will make some girl very happy one day. Andy and I are now married, and we regularly read the stories on Maman together.
I have never been back to Texas, although we do plan to return one day for a holiday. I’m so glad that I accepted that promotion to London – my life has been enriched enormously by England, Andy, Adam and discovering the joys of spanking.
I do hope this is published and other mums find it of use should they ever get the request: “Mum, can you smack my bum please?” Say yes, turn the rascal over your knee and smack that little bottom. You won’t regret it – and neither will they.
Contributor: Cindy