Timmy’s only time

I think it’s generally accepted that during the days when children were regularly spanked, boys tended to get it far more than girls. Whether boys are generally naughtier or push the limits more, I don’t know, but none of my female friends at school were hit very often by either parent.

In our home, that situation was pretty much reversed. I was a bit of a hell-raiser child and was absolutely no stranger to my mum’s knee. If I had a pound for every time she took my knickers down and smacked my bum till I couldn’t sit, I’d be quite rich! Mum always took me to my room to ‘get done’, as we used to call it, but even so it was painful and embarrassing, as anyone in the house could hear the smacking being given and there was no doubt about what was happening to ‘that naughty girl’ – again!

By contrast, my little brother Timmy was a mild little angel. I suppose he might have had the odd swift smack on the legs or backside when he was a toddler but while I was still being taken upstairs regularly by Mum to have my arse tanned, Timmy was pretty much never in any kind of trouble at all, and was more or less doted on by our parents.

In fact, he only got smacked the one time I can remember, on a day when he completely went off the rails. Timmy was out with a couple of friends – I think he’d be eight or nine at the time, I can’t remember exactly. I was home, for once reading quietly, with Mum and Dad when the phone rang.

Dad went into the hall to answer it – it was a local newsagent. It seems that both the other boys Timmy was with had been in the habit of stealing sweets, and they egged Timmy into following suit at this particular shop. Needless to say, my brother – a complete amateur – had been caught more or less instantly, and the shop owner had subsequently telephoned my father rather than call the police, for which I’m sure Dad was grateful.

The shop in question was only a few roads away, so after Dad (incandescent with anger) had told my mum what had happened, he walked the short distance to go and collect his son and appease the newsagent.

Mum and I were still in the lounge when they got back – I noticed Mum was looking even grimmer than Dad, who dragged Timmy into the room and began shouting and scolding him.

Then the thing happened which I thought I would never see. Dad grabbed one of his slippers from by the side of his armchair, dragged out a dining chair and without further ceremony took down my little brother’s shorts and underpants. It was the first time I had seen Timmy’s bottom and willy for quite a few years, so I looked on with interest as he was prepared for a spanking.

Then Dad roughly but firmly put Timmy over his knee and began to slipper that bottom like there was no tomorrow. That newsagent could almost have heard the howling, screaming and crying from his shop! My brother’s buttocks quickly turned a deep red as Dad beat them methodically with the slipper. Finally, Timmy was sent to bed with no supper.

As someone who was so often on the opposite end of such a punishment, I have to confess it was something I was delighted to witness!

Contributor: Carol

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