The naughty little goat

This story is about an unhappy little boy who was made to feel very special by a kind, warm and beautiful young woman. I have changed her name.

At five years old, and maybe at that very moment when I felt I needed her the most, Mum gave birth to my sister. For five years I had been the ‘star of the show’ but I quickly became ‘yesterday’s news’.

I was just starting school but Mum was busy dealing with her new baby and I was told that I need to be a ‘big boy’ and walk to school alone. Navigating school and finding new friends was scary, but I suppose it’s part of life and builds character. However, back then I felt, probably without justification, that I had been abandoned. I felt that I no longer mattered because Mum’s entire time was taken up with my sister. I suppose I became jealous.

I eventually made those friends but never really got over that feeling that I was now ‘second-best’ at home. On one occasion, I overheard my mum tell family and friends she had always wanted a girl and was delighted – that remark had me crying myself to sleep a few times, I can tell you.

All of this coincided with me realising that, strangely, I had a strong desire to have my bottom smacked. I assume it was a cry for help or attention. Whatever, sadly mum never answered my call.

When I was 10, in that memorable hot summer of 1976, we had a family holiday on the Devon coast and we rented a static caravan for two weeks. On arrival at the site, Dad and I went to the site office to register and collect the keys while Mum stayed by the car with my sister.

Inside the office, we were met by a vision. An angel. A goddess. Her name was Linda, and I fell in love at first sight! Linda was the daughter of the site owners and in her early 20s. She was gorgeous, with long blonde hair, wearing a yellow T-shirt and white shorts. I was dumbstruck. Oh, those long suntanned legs!

Dad collected the keys and was given directions to our caravan. Linda said she would check on us in half an hour to make sure we were all OK.

We had an almost brand new caravan – it was fantastic. I had a bunk bed, with a little ladder to climb into bed. As promised, Linda did indeed come to check up on us, and she actually spoke to me. She told me there was a small animal petting enclosure in the far corner of the site, and I was welcome to visit whenever I wanted. I managed to say ‘thank you’ and promised to visit. Wild horses couldn’t have stopped me!

We spent the next day at the beach. Mum fussed over my sister by the edge of the water and I built a sandcastle with Dad. I was very proud and wanted to show mum but she wasn’t much bothered. I did get a ‘that’s nice!’ 

I think it was a day or maybe two later that I first visited the petting enclosure. Linda was there and so were three smaller children.
There were chickens and rabbits, long-eared rabbits, hamsters and tortoises. There were also loads of ducks, two sheep and an enormous ginger cat.

However, by far and away my favourites were the goats – I adored them. After a while, I found myself alone with Linda. She indicated for me to follow her, as if she had a secret. In a hut out at the back were some baby goats – they were so cute!

Now, clearly a 20-something young woman isn’t going to be interested in a 10-year-old boy, but I was in love and convinced that Linda and I had a special thing between us. Maybe she just recognised I needed attention, or perhaps she just took a shine to me, or she was friendly with all children – I’ll never know. She made me feel happy because she took an interest in me.

Linda sat me down on a long wooden bench, gave me a bottle and put a baby goat on my lap. I loved it. My host kept an eye on me and bustled about, sorting food and feeding bottles, before coming back to watch over me.

Linda had a T-shirt and shorts on and a pair of sandals. I was also in shorts and her smooth, warm, long leg touched mine. She watched as I fed the baby goat and unbeknown to her, I developed the first ever erection I can recall. When the baby goat had his fill of milk, she swapped him over – I was given another baby and a new bottle and Linda sat beside me, our thighs touching, and she started to feed another.

Linda told me I was very good at feeding – a natural. The goats lay perfectly still on my lap as I fed them. I was beyond happy, I wanted to stay there forever. I felt appreciated.

Meanwhile, the baby goat Linda was feeding began wriggling and struggling. Linda tut-tutted. She scolded the goat and warned it that if it didn’t keep still she would smack its bottom! That was so exciting to hear.

I started giggling. Linda asked me what was funny. I replied: “You can’t smack a goat’s bottom!” We had a little laugh, then Linda said: “Well, just you wait and see, young man. If this naughty little goat doesn’t keep still, you’ll see me smack a goat’s bottom all right, any minute now!” 

So there we were. I was 10. I had formed my first erection because this wonderful, sexy young woman was threatening a baby goat with something I had desired for years – a smacked bum.

It was like a cue. I said: “You can smack a boy’s bottom, but not a baby goat – that’s silly!” No sooner had the words left my mouth when Linda gave the baby goat a light tap on its rear end – the animal settled down to drink its milk.

“There!” said Linda. “A smacked bottom always works – and you’re not too big to be put across my knee either giggle-chops!”

How could she have known? Those words – the threat that I had so wanted to hear from my Mum, right there in a little shed on a caravan park in Devon. Thank you, Linda, thank you! I, of course, replied: “You wouldn’t dare!” Meaning, naturally, please, please do it! Linda replied: “We’ll see about that when these two have been fed!”

I cannot tell you how excited I was. The two baby goats were fed and the bottles were washed and put away. I sat therem hopeful, expectant, waiting. I suppose it was the first time I had ‘flirted’.

“Right,” said Linda slapping her hands together, and rubbing them on her shorts, “that’s the goats sorted. I reckon we ought to sort you out now, cheeky boy!” I felt the butterflies in my stomach, and my head was spinning. “You wouldn’t dare!” I repeated, a wide grin on my face. I was more or less begging her to carry out her threat.

“Oh yes, I would!” Linda shot back. She sat down and said: “Come along, cheeky – you’re not too big for a smacked bottom, not by a long way!”

I half stood, placed a hand on her thigh and with Linda’s help, I settled face down across her knee. She smacked my bottom playfully and gently over my shorts. A few slow, well spaced out, light smacks landed, maybe ten or 12, then Linda stopped.

“How does that feel cheeky?” she asked. I replied that I hadn’t felt a thing. That was partly true – it was all good fun but I would have liked it to have been a little harder. However, in the excitement of the moment, I didn’t really care – I was lying across an attractive young woman’s lap.

Adding a couple of slightly firmer, quicker whacks to my bum, Linda invited me to stand. Reluctantly I obeyed. In desperation, I said: “Didn’t feel a thing!” The most wonderful threat followed. “Careful, or I’ll have these shorts down next time and smack your bare bottom! – I promise you’ll feel that!”

I was deliriously happy and gave my by now stock answer of ‘you wouldn’t dare!’ It was the best I could manage as a 10-year-old boy whose hormones had just been kicked into hyperdrive.

Linda simply replied: “You know I can, and I will if you’re not careful. Now, scoot on back to your caravan, cheeky!” She helped me on my way with another smack, the hardest of the day. I jumped with surprise at the sting, and Linda laughed. “I know just how to sort you out, you cheeky devil!” A big grin on my face, I called back over my shoulder: “Betcha don’t!” A distant ‘betcha I do!’ followed me out through the door.

The whole play spanking could only have taken three or four minutes from start to finish, but it was the most exciting thing I had ever encountered. I scurried back to our caravan. My parents were outside and Mum warned me not to wake my sister. In my head, I thought: “Why don’t you spank me like Linda if I wake her?” But it was just in my head. 

I stayed quiet, changed into pyjamas and sat on my cosy bed. All I could think about was Linda and the threat. Would she really pull my shorts down and spank me on the bare bottom? I wished and wished before falling asleep.

After a few more visits to the pet area, nothing had happened and besides, there were always other children around asking questions. Linda was fun to be with and I thought the sun shone out of her. She seemed to give me a bit more of her attention than the others.

Deep into our second week, we went to a children’s park where there were rides. The day finished early and we went back to the caravan for a barbecue-style dinner. I asked if I could go to the petting area to see if I could feed the goats, and with permission granted off I scampered.

There were other people around, so at first I just hung about, stroking the rabbits. Then Linda put her arm around me and asked if I would like to help clean out the goats around the back? Of course, I said yes.

She took me to the goat shed at the back, showed me what to do and said she’d be back to check on me later. She obviously trusted me with the goats – I was very proud and felt quite privileged. I got to work and when Linda returned, she was very pleased with my efforts. I was praised and blushed at the attention. We talked for a while about the goats – Linda was preparing some more feeding bottles.

I felt comfortable with her, so asked if she had children. She didn’t yet. I told her about my sister and that I felt a bit left out at home, which was why I spent as much time as I could with the goats.

Then, my face burning up somewhat, I confessed that the game we had played the other day had been a lot of fun, and it was the sort of thing I wanted to play with my mum.

Linda obviously twigged that I was trying to get my bottom smacked again, and in the end she asked me straight out. I blushed scarlet but replied quietly in the affirmative.

I must have looked a bit sorry for myself. Linda sat down on a low wooden bench, stood me in front of herm and said: “I know how you feel. My brother can do no wrong in Dad’s eyes.

“If you work hard at school, be a good boy and keep out of trouble, eventually your mum will realise what a very special son she has. If you can promise to do all that for me, I’ll smack your bare bottom right now. Deal?” My head was completely upside down but I found the strength (and good sense) to nod vigorously at the offer.

“You promise me?” “On the baby goat’s life,” I heard myself saying. Linda laughed at that and said: “Well, maybe if your bottom is smacked properly, you’ll stop worrying and wondering what it feels like.”

Linda grabbed the waistband of my shorts and used it to pull me closer to her. “Are you sure about this?” It was a silly question, really – I was 10 years old, in love and seconds away from my first ever bare-bottomed spanking. I also had a raging erection again, I might mention.

Linda slowly took down my shorts to my ankles, then gently put me across her knee. Then I felt my underpants being tugged down gently, one side at a time. Linda put one hand in the small of my back and rested the other on my now bare bottom. It felt so intimate a touch.

I closed my eyes and waited. Then Linda smacked my bottom, and it was everything I had dreamed of. She didn’t speak for a while – she just smacked me steadily and methodically. I think I got about 15 or 20.

Then she paused. “Is that enough, or do you need some more?” My erection was raging and I said in a quiet, little voice: “More, please.” Now she smacked a little harder – it stung, but in the nicest way. I got probably another 15 or 20 smacks, which for a 10-year-old boy was probably just about right.

I was left with a delicious warm tingling in my bottom. My buttocks felt warm to the touch and were a light pink. My penis was stiff as a board.

Finally, I was returned to my feet and we talked for a while, both trousers and pants still around my ankles. Linda simply ignored my erection, or at least she didn’t mention it. I suppose she was used to much bigger penises! She reminded me of my promise, and when I retorted that I had a really bad memory, her face turned a bit stern for the first time. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to happen.” Oh well, worth a try!

That evening at bedtime, I was careful to change into my pyjama bottoms with my backside facing away from my parents, just in case there was any evidence left of my earlier adventures.

When the time came to leave the caravan site for home, I nearly hugged Linda to death, and cried my eyes out most of the way home. When my parents asked why, I blamed my tears on missing the goats. That was partly true – but it was Linda’s warmth I would miss the most.

Some weeks later, a letter arrived from Linda, addressed to me. Inside were photographs of the baby goats, who were getting much bigger, and a note to say how helpful I had been feeding them. That marked the beginning of a lifelong pen-friendship that continued until recently, when sadly I received the news that Linda had passed away peacefully in her sleep.

Over the years, I did occasionally draft an email including references to that wonderful day she smacked my bum, but I always deleted those words before sending. Linda never mentioned the subject either – I suppose in these more sensitive times you wouldn’t want to admit to having smacked a 10-year-old child on the bare bottom, especially not your own.

Linda married and worked at the campsite for a few more years, then retired and moved to Spain, where she lived out her final years in the sunshine with her husband and daughter. We never again met in person. I did consider revisiting the caravan site in later years with my family for nostalgia’s sake but, as they say, you can’t go back. Linda’s family had sold up by then anyway, so it wouldn’t have been the same.

I love the stories on Maman of boys asking for (and receiving) a smacked bum from their mum. It was something I needed and wanted but never managed to get from my own mother. 

So, should any mother reading these stories be in a similar situation, all I would say is that if my own mum had taken just a few minutes to put me across her knee and playfully smack my bottom, it could have saved me years of self-torment. You don’t need to smack hard – a token few spanks across your knee at bedtime and your child’s craving or curiosity will likely be well-satisfied.

After a long dating process with my now wife, I eventually plucked up the courage to ask if we could try a little spanking for fun in the bedroom. She readily agreed and played along. I don’t know if it’s a natural gift, or motherly instinct, but not only is she very good at telling me off, from day one she proved to be an exceptionally good spanker!

After that first time, and my impressively quick finish in her vagina, she must have realised it was just something I needed. We have a routine now – I am sent to our spare bedroom, then my wife comes up to see me. She scolds me and explains that as I have behaved like a naughty little boy, she intends to treat me as such.

My wife generally starts with me across her lap, but I am invariably moved over just the one knee and leg-locked. I have to grit my teeth at that stage – she does have a very firm hand indeed! Sex always follows, and I do believe my wife actually looks forward to our spanking games. She certainly initiates them regularly enough.

As for me, I will always be grateful to Linda for her wonderful kindness.

Contributor: Anonymous

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