My last time

It was 1991, and I was by now in secondary school. There was no corporal punishment used there, and even most of my mates were getting nothing beyond the odd cuff around the ears from their parents if they misbehaved.

By this time I was getting quite tall, hitting puberty, and I think my parents realised that the remaining time when they could wallop me for misbehaving was getting short.

However, when I got suspended from school for two days for fighting, they were absolutely furious. I’d caused problems before but never been suspended.

Dad looked me in the eye and offered me a choice. “You can either be gated for two months (in other words, grounded – Dad was the product of a public school and it sometimes shows in his language) or you can be spanked like a little boy.”

I couldn’t face being kept in for that amount of time – it seemed like decades – so I chose the spanking. My brother and sister began to tease me after I made my choice – my sister actually ended up getting a hard warning spank across her legs for it too.

I’d been mostly getting the slipper off Dad since I was nine, and was expecting a similar sanction this time. Instead, it quickly became clear that Dad truly meant to smack my bottom like you would a little boy.

He dragged a dining room chair up the stairs and put it in the centre of my bedroom, then pulled my trousers and pants down for me. I was so embarrassed – as I say, I was going through puberty, I was already masturbating and having wet dreams. Having dad pull my clothes down and see my privates just felt plain wrong.

I didn’t have long to worry about this, however, because he immediately pulled me over his lap and began the spanking. He didn’t actually smack as hard as he usually did – but he spanked me for a really long time.

I squirmed with embarrassment as I lay there over his lap for about 10 minutes, my bottom slowly being tanned to a bright, hot shade of red. While he spanked, Dad told me off too – something he didn’t usually do. I didn’t catch most of his recriminations because I tried to zone out and just get through the spanking, but he used the word ‘naughty’ a lot – I think he was trying to emphasise to me that I was acting like a little child.

Once I had been done, it was pyjamas and early bed. My arse burned for a couple of hours – nowhere near as bad as after a slippering, but it really taught me a lesson. I bucked my ideas up a little bit after that, and was never suspended again. I was also never spanked again.

Contributor: John

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