This is a story of my penultimate spanking, one of the worst I ever had. Actually, I had had what I thought would be my last sore bottom when I was 14. Then I sort of graduated to more grown-up punishments, like being grounded or losing other privileges.
I should say that my mom had never said I was finished with spanking – I just assumed I was. Then, in my senior year of high school, aged 17, I did something really stupid. I got drunk at a party. Not just a little bit tipsy, but completely trashed, falling-down drunk.
Fortunately I had a designated driver who got me safely home, but I made enough noise to wake the dead trying to get into the house. My mom was furious. She told me to get to bed and that we would deal with it in the morning. I collapsed into bed and basically blacked out.
I was awakened by my mother at 6.45 the next morning when she snapped open the roller blinds and started pounding a wooden spoon she kept for spanking her children against the paddle (retained for the same purpose) to wake me up.
I had my first ever hangover and the sudden burst of light and loud noises made my head feel like it was going to explode. I realised that Mom was holding the paddle and the spoon and I started to get worried. Then I became aware of something else – I was soaking wet, cold and clammy. In my blackout state I had completely peed the bed. Bad hangover, wet bed and impending spanking – talk about a bad morning!
My mom informed me that she was going to tan my hide, but she wasn’t about to touch me in my current state. She grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me down the hallway to the bathroom. She turned the shower on and ordered me inside it just as soon as I could peel off my cold, wet clothes. The shower itself was still cold when she pushed me inside.
After three minutes she jerked me out and shoved a towel in my face. I dried off, then Mom snatched the towel from me, took my elbow and dragged me naked backed down the hall.
With only one arm available, I decided to cover my pussy and just hope against hope that my brother would not have been woken up and come to see what the ruckus was, and get a free show. Fortunately that did not happen – the only thing to go right for me that morning.
Still naked, I had to bend over, grab my knees and stick my bottom way out. My mom started laying into me with spoon. She probably spanked me around 40 times, all over both cheeks and particularly on the sit spot where your thighs meet your bottom. I managed to stay in position but I was really crying and making a ruckus now. I’m sure my brother was up but I had the relative privacy of my room.
Then Mom made me get up and sent me to the corner. I got a long lecture about how reckless I had been and how disappointed she was in me.. Then I had to stand with my nose in the corner, hands on my head. She left me there for an hour, still naked and with both a pounding headache and a very sore, red bottom.
Eventually, she returned and gave me the customary five whacks with the paddle. Mom had been a school teacher and she had brought her classroom paddle home. She never gave more than five but this time she went harder than ever before.
After I had bent over and stuck my bottom out, the first two cracks felt regular – but then the third was so hard it almost lifted me off of the ground. Mom had grasped the paddle with both hands and was swinging it like a baseball bat.
I jumped out of position and started rubbing my behind. Mom put an end to that in short order and I got two more super-hard swats. My bottom was beet red and it would soon turn into two purple bullseye bruises, one on each cheek.
Mom lectured me a little more, then left the room. I threw myself on to the bed to cry and sulk – and that’s when I remembered that the sheets were completely soaked. What a nightmare!
It turned out that my little brother had heard everything and he pestered me until I told him what happened. I gave him the whole story, minus the part about me wetting the bed. Thank goodness, he never found out about that. However, I did hike up my so he could see the edge of the bruising – let’s just say, he never made the mistake of coming home drunk himself!