I would like to offer a modest contribution about a bit of fun that happened the best part of 40 years ago. As a youngster I was painfully shy. I was also quiet and obedient. Quite why I was so interested in all aspects of spanking was beyond me, but I was – almost to the point of obsession. But by my very nature, even the most pro-spanking parent or teacher would have been hard put to find a reason to smack my bottom!
The following incident happened on a very ordinary day, with no rhyme nor reason. To this day, I cannot explain why it happened or what on earth got into our mum.
After school, I had to collect my younger brother from a waiting area and walk him home. Infants school finished 15 minutes before juniors, so he and one or two others waited in a room with a teacher until they were collected.
On this particular day my brother, who was the polar opposite of me in terms of personality, seemed hyperactive. We arrived home and Mum greeted us both at the back door. We removed our coats and shoes as Mum walked through to start making our tea,
My brother kicked off his shoes, threw his coat to the floor and ran in behind Mum like a demented whirlwind, yelling and flapping his arms. Mum caught him and lifted him and spun around, calling him her ‘little monster’. I followed him inside, having put my coat on a hook and stacked my shoes neatly!
As she returned my brother to the ground, Mum asked him a perfectly normal question: “Have you been a good boy at school today?” His reply was to jump in the air, wave his arms and shout: “I was baaaad!”
I was unpacking my bag on the table when Mum followed up with a few more questions, until satisfied he hadn’t been bad at all – he was just messing around.
Now here is the inexplicable part: there was no reason for Mum to do this, and it was completely out of character. She sat down on a dining room chair right beside me, then put my my brother over her knee, telling him: “This is what happens to naughty little boys who tell their mummy stories!”
I will never forget what happened next. Mum looked directly into my eyes and asked the rhetorical question: “Isn’t that right, Thomas?”
I was speechless. Mum had my brother across her knee, my face I knew had blushed red and my eyes were wide with expectation. I was going to see a spanking. All I managed, if memory serves, was a nod. There’s no doubt in my mind that Mum knew at that precise moment that I was more than interested in the procedure of a smacked bottom – my face must have given me away.
With a smile, she turned her attention back to my little brother and started to smack the seat of his shorts. It was all in fun – although perhaps, thinking back, maybe there was an underlying warning message for my brother?
I didn’t care, I was watching a spanking for the first time. My legs turned to jelly, my face was the colour of a well-smacked bottom and I didn’t dare blink in case I missed a millisecond of the action. Mum looked up at me more than once, and she would have had to have been blind not to notice my fascination.
My brother’s spanking lasted between 30 seconds to a minute. When Mum had done, she stood him back up and scolded him playfully with a wagging finger. It was pretend, of course – the smacks had been light and my brother hardly reacted, but I do feel mum was making a point.
Once released, my brother ran off, totally unfazed by what had just happened. It was as if this happened every day, water off a duck’s back. For my own part, I just stood there stunned, eyes on my mother’s now vacant knee where my little brother’s bottom had been just a minute ago.
“Thomas!” I heard my name and snapped out of it. Mum repeated her question: “Have you been a good boy at school today?” She sat there with her hands on her knees, head tilted slightly down as if looking over the top of spectacles.
I cannot imagine what shade of red my face was now. Did Mum know how I felt? Was she just being fair and giving me the chance of a few play smacks so I didn’t feel left out? I have no idea – all I can recall is the sound of my blood pounding in my ears as I slowly shook my head.
“Oh Thomas!” Mum said slowly, with a deep, fake sigh. She crooked her finger to beckon me closer. ”You are a big boy, so I’m going to have to smack your bottom for much longer and much, much harder than your brother!” she said.
Quite what had got into Mum, I have no idea. To the best of my recollection there had never been even a threat of a spanking in our house, certainly not to me. Possibly, with my brother being a bit hyper, Mum had spanked him previously and I had been unaware of it, but that’s a stretch – I’m pretty sure I’d have known.
I stepped forward, my eyes fixed on the beckoning finger, and Mum carefully and slowly took my weight and adjusted me just how she wanted me across her knees. I quivered with excitement and anticipation. I was now where my brother had been – and I loved it. I’m sure that had my brother answered that he’d been a good boy at school none of this would have happened – I remain eternally grateful!
The first smack landed. Every sense in my body concentrated on what was happening to my bottom. The smack didn’t hurt much, but I did feel it, then another and another.
I can’t remember much of what Mum said as she delivered the spanking, but there was some scolding along with the smacks. But all I really remember is the tingle in my behind, the sound of Mum’s hand as it made contact with my school shorts and the pattern of our dining room carpet to which my face pointed. I didn’t want it to end!
Mum stopped. I waited, hoping she would continue just a bit longer. “Promise you will be a good boy in school, Thomas!” I nodded and whispered back that I would.
“I should hope so,” Mum replied, “or I shall have to put you across my knee again, you naughty boy!” She finished me off with about another dozen smacks, perhaps a little harder than before but still not so hard that it became unpleasant. There was a gentle, warm, tingling inside my underpants, though.
I was returned to my feet. I felt slightly dizzy, with a wonderful warmth pulsating through me. I felt ecstatic – I’d had my bottom smacked! Mum watched me with a smile as I regained my senses – she knew I had enjoyed my spanking all right. Then she touched my face with the hand that had just smacked me lovingly, and we made eye contact for a second.”Go wash up and change for tea, now!” I was dismissed with a last, firm pat to my bottom.
Mum got up and went into the kitchen, while I went to my room in a daze. I’d been spanked – and it was wonderful.
Mum caught my eye a couple of times as we sat having tea. I blushed to my boots, which must have confirmed her suspicions. I hardly thought about anything else for weeks. Every night after school, I hoped Mum would ask if I had been a good boy at school, but she didn’t. Of course, I was so shy that I couldn’t possibly bring up the subject.
Sadly, that was it – and I was never naughty enough to be smacked for real. Later in my early teen years, Mum threatened to smack me and my brother here or there in jest, but I was too old to be spanked by then and I guess Mum knew that her threat was just that – a bit of fun with her boys.