This is an unusual contribution as it comes from two people, who we’ll call Liz and Ian. They both have very different experiences of spanking during their childhoods which undoubtedly had a huge effect on their adult lives.
Liz: I grew up obsessed and fascinated by all things to do with spanking. As a young girl, I sought out spankings in cartoons, comics and any other places where I might find even the slightest reference to CP.
I spanked my dolls and my teddy bear. I often smacked my own bottom, and if a friend or schoolmate had suffered a spanking, I would grill them about it afterwards.
So, it’s rather frustrating to tell you that I was myself never spanked by an adult myself. I would sometimes push boundaries and try my best to provoke my parents, but never received a single smack!
The frustration of this made me grow up rather bitter and angry – feelings which which when you write them down seem stupid, I know. I’ll also admit that I might have grown up to have quite different feelings about spanking had I been given one as a child.
Then, one day, I was at a family gathering where there were several children present, including my older sister’s little boy, who was then four years old. She was already pregnant with her second, I remember.
My sister and I were chatting when, for the umpteenth time, a group of children ran past us, screaming at the top of their voices.
As they did so, my sister caught hold of her son and turned him to face her. Very sternly, she told the little boy: “If you don’t go and sit down, and calm down, there’s going to be a smacked bottom!” The little boy obeyed immediately, which made me think he knew mum was serious and he had probably already been treated to a sore bum before now.
Given my predilections, I was rather excited by this turn of events – but also rather surprised that my sister would make such a threat, given that she had never been spanked herself.
To my utter shock, she replied: “You might not have been – I wasn’t so lucky!” It turned out that she was in fact no stranger at all to a smacked bottom. My sister calmly explained that our parents on an ‘experiment’ when I was born. Unlike my sister, I would be raised with no spankings – just other punishments like corner time, removal of privileges etc.
My sister then went on to recount several spankings she had received as a girl, in particular one from Mum when she was 13. Apparently, the punishment was mostly for backchat and general ‘attitude’ rather than a specific crime.
My sister was taken to Mum’s bedroom and given a standard over-the-knee hand spanking. During the punishment, my sister must have made a comment which riled Mum even more – perhaps she said it ‘didn’t hurt’ or something like that, I don’t know.
In any event, in response Mum picked up her hairbrush, turned my sister back over her knee and gave her the spanking of her life. My sister told me it was the most painful experience she had ever suffered. Looking back, even for a 13-year-old girl she felt it was too harsh a punishment. However, she had to concede that it was a very long time before she needed another smacked bottom so the punishment had obviously done its job.
This news of this inequality in our upbringing upset me greatly – in my eyes, by sheer ‘misfortune’ I had missed out on being spanked simply by being the second daughter. It does seem stupid. I know. but I was so frustrated at the time – it really got under my skin.
I was tempted to confront my mother about the revelation – but fortunately came to my senses before I made a complete fool of myself. Can you imagine complaining to your mother at 20-something that she didn’t spank you as a child?
I met Ian not long after that incident. I had asked other boyfriends to smack me before sex and one or two had obliged, albeit rather half heartedly. With Ian, I explained my frustrations from the get-go and virtually demanded that he spank me, or there would be no future in our relationship. (I am embarrassed at myself, reading this through!)
Once I had ‘broken my duck’ as it were, I relaxed a bit. Ian smacked my bottom to my complete satisfaction and it meant the world to me. It was wonderful – but the disappointment of my spankings-free childhood has stayed with me, and I guess always will.
During our spanking games, I fantasise in my head that I am a little girl being spanked for backchat. I sometimes ask for a spanking for that very reason – and request that we delay any sexual play for a while. Ian seems happy to play along, and I must say that the delay makes the sex which follows even more intense for me.
I do also get to spank Ian, which I absolutely love to do. I should say that he doesn’t get turned on by being spanked, but he does get ‘rewarded in other ways’ afterwards, so I guess he endures rather than enjoys a smacked bottom.
I’ve asked Ian extensively about his childhood, particularly his own spankings, so I will now hand over to him to complete our tale…
Ian: I have a brother three years younger than myself. When he was little, my parents insisted I look after him and made me take him everywhere with me. As my brother was younger and smaller, he couldn’t keep up with me and my mates and would fall behind when we were out on our bikes. I then had to wait for him and of course my mates left us behind. I resented my brother for this reason.
Punishment at home was generally in the form of what I would refer to as ‘hard labour’. I was made to work in the garden – weeding mostly, sweeping, that sort of thing. Sometimes my bike would be taken away from me and I would not be allowed out. But I was not spanked – until the fateful day that the travelling fairground came to town.
I was warned not to go to the fair by bike because this would mean crossing a road. It wasn’t that busy a road but I was not allowed to go on account of it being dangerous for my brother. My friends all rode to the fair and I was left behind with my brother, fuming as usual.
Finally, we bumped into a boy we knew who was going to the fair with his parents, by car. His father offered to take me and my brother. He put our bikes in the back of the car and off we went. This seemed perfectly OK to me, because we had not crossed the road.
We had a brilliant time. I saw all my mates, had a toffee apple and sampled all sorts of rides. My little brother won a goldfish in a plastic bag – remember them?
The boy’s father drove us home and dropped my brother and I outside our house. Mum and Dad came out and thanked him for bringing us home. My brother was asked if he was OK and proudly showed off his goldfish. My father took me by the hand and walked me to the lounge, while Mum fussed over my brother and his fish.
It wasn’t until Mum joined us in the room that the mood turned solemn and I realised I was in trouble. My father scolded me for disobeying their instructions regarding the fairground. I tried to explain that we had not crossed the road but had been driven, but my protestation seemed to fall on deaf ears.
Dad turned to my mum and said: “Mother, I’ll leave this to you this time. Don’t let me down – make sure he learns not to disobey us. If there is ever another time, I will deal with it.”
I didn’t like the sound of this at all. There had been no mention of the usual ‘hard labour’. Mum and took my hand. “Come with me,” was all she said.
I was taken to my bedroom and the door was closed. I knew I was in deep trouble – Mum’s mood was stern, severe and dark. Meanwhile, my brother was happily watching his goldfish downstairs.
Mum took me over to my bed, sat down on it and got herself settled. Then, to my horror, she removed my shorts and pants. Even though I had never been smacked, I knew this was how children were generally prepared for a spanking and that I was about to find out what it was like.
Mum pulled me forward and placed me very specifically across one knee. My top half was on my bed, while from the waist down I was between Mum’s legs, my bared bottom high over her thigh. I waited.
No words were spoken, but ten slow, hard smacks followed, five to each buttock. I screwed my eyes up – it hurt, a lot. I didn’t cry – I felt the spanking was totally unjustified.
Then there was a pause – long enough for me to think that Mum had finished. I moved a bit in preparation to stand up but to my shock and disappointment, I was pushed back down across Mum’s knee and 10 more smacks were delivered in the same way – hard and well spaced out, so I could appreciate the sting.
This second round of smacks brought me to the verge of tears. Then, as before, there was a long pause – and then Mum changed her tactics. Ten very hard and very fast smacks were delivered to the backs of my thighs. Due to the lack of padding, these stung far more than the smacks to my bottom and at last I began to cry.
Mum waited again, then went back to my backside. Ten more slow, hard smacks. These rekindled the deeper burning sensation in my bum, so now it stung even more than my thighs.
I waited and waited – crying softly into my bedspread as I did so – and then yet another set of 10 hard slaps were applied to my bottom. These really stung and caused me to cry out loudly and openly into my bedspread. My little hands screwed the fabric up tight and I repeatedly screamed ‘sorry’ over and over again, hoping to make the spanking stop.
Instead, Mum applied another set of ten, this time to my thighs again. My entire backside and thighs was now on fire and I kicked and twisted – but Mum held me firmly. I suffered another two rounds of the slow, well spaced out smacks, followed by a rapid fire finale that covered my thighs and buttocks. I’m sure you could have fried eggs on my bottom once she had finished.
Then at last Mum stood up, letting my legs slide down so I was kneeling on the floor with my head on the bed.
She simply said: “If there is ever a next time, your father will use his belt. I suggest you learn from this and never disobey us again!” She left me alone with my burning, throbbing, scorched bottom and thighs, sobbing my heart out.
I should add that my brother was never punished, and I probably resented him even more after that day. I held a grudge against my parents for years for that spanking, because I felt it was unjustified.
I never received another spanking of any kind from them but even now, after all these years, I feel bitter about what I went through. There have been times when I have felt like bringing the subject up with my parents but, much like Liz, decided not to because it would only reopen old wounds and change nothing.
My parents, I am sure, have realised over the years we are not close, maybe they know why, maybe not. My brother moved away so we rarely see him, I still hold that grudge, much like Liz, but for a very different reason. If I had deserved a spanking, I am sure it would have been easier to accept.
The sex games we play as adults are just that – Liz enjoys having her bum smacked and if it makes her happy, then I’m happy to play along.
Contributors: Liz & Ian