Fantasy versus reality

My name is Ruth, and this email has been sat in my drafts folder for ages. After much soul searching, I’ve finally decided to send it in, as it may possibly be of some use or comfort to some of your readers. I should say that my husband Alan found your site some time ago, but has only recently shared this ‘little secret’ with me.

I have an interest in your ‘Mothers’ category, driven by a confession my son made some years ago. He had to go into hospital for a minor operation which required an overnight stay. As I was getting him settled into the hospital, and he was having all the usual pre-op checks, my boy seemed very quiet. Naturally, I put this down to nerves.

Finally, we had a moment to ourselves and I assured him he would be just fine. From out of the blue, he confessed to pinching a sausage roll the previous Christmas – literally months earlier! I couldn’t help but laugh. I squeezed his hand as he lay on his trolley bed. “It really doesn’t matter. Why have you decided to confess this terrible crime now, of all times?”

He looked embarrassed, but mumbled: “I felt I deserved to have my bum smacked for it, and I’ve been trying to ask you for ages.” I laughed again: “Don’t be so silly – forget it!”

We couldn’t discuss this revelation any further because at that moment two nurses came in and announced it was time for him to go down to theatre.

As they wheeled my son away, he begged me to promise that we would discuss the ‘sausage roll thing’ when he was better. As the bemused nurses wheeled him away, no doubt wondering what on earth he was talking about, I managed to call out ‘I promise’ as he disappeared through the double swing doors.

Later, at home, I told Alan about our son’s untimely confession, and request for a smacked bum. Alan enthusiastically encouraged me to discuss this request from our son, to talk it through, and spank him if he asked again. At the time Alan’s very positive reaction surprised me a little, I understand his response better now I have been introduced to your website!

We had never used spanking for discipline, and up to that point never used it for fun in the bedroom either. I wasn’t particularly pro or anti-spanking but our two children had rarely, if ever, come close to deserving such a punishment. That really would have been a last resort.

Two days after his operation, our son was home and back to his normal self. There had been no mention of the sausage roll confession. But on the third morning he came into my bedroom, where I was folding washing.

He sat on the end on the bed. “Mum, have you thought about what I said in the hospital about the sausage roll?’ No dancing around the subject – just a straight question. He added that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, and wanted to get it over and done with.

I was half expecting the subject to come up so it wasn’t any great surprise. Although I wasn’t interested in the subject myself, I was aware that many people are sexually interested in spanking. I don’t remember thinking at the time that this may have been the reason my son was asking for a spanking. It may well have been – I’ll never know.

We discussed the subject for a while, me folding and putting things away, him sitting on our bed. He was adamant – he wanted his bottom smacked properly for stealing. I wasn’t entirely sure what he considered ‘proper’! 

I explained that it wouldn’t have entered my head that he would deserve a spanking for pinching a sausage roll – it was hardly the crime of the century! He seemed disappointed by this news, as if I was turning down his request.

Eventually, after a long old chat, we came to a compromise. As it seemed so important to him, I offered to grant his wish and smack him (properly?) for exactly one minute; no more no less. 

My son seemed to think this was going to be a doddle, hardly worth bothering with. He was thinking it would take longer to achieve the results he was expecting. As it turned out, he was quite grateful we settled on just one minute! He clearly felt longer was required, I didn’t really want to spank him at all, so I thought one minute was a fair compromise. At the time, my thinking was, if he complained that a minute had not been sufficient punishment I could always offer to smack him for a second minute.  

Before I go into detail about the spanking given, I have a little challenge for your readers. For those in the know this may not be a surprise, but if you pretend to give a cushion or pillow a spanking, try timing how many smacks you can manage in 10 seconds. Even without smacking away wildly, 15 whacks is easily possible. Based on that, you can potentially administer 80 or 90 smacks in a full minute – that will make quite an impact on any young boy’s bare bottom!

With my washing folded and put away, I asked if he wanted his spanking there and then. He accepted with a ’yeah’ and a nod. He wanted to get it over and done with. The phrase ’so I can move on’ was used more than once, I recall.

I looked at him for a bit, then reluctantly I turned our bedroom chair around and sat down. I invited my son to stand facing me. He had an odd look on his face – not a smirk exactly, but I just thought he was being a little too casual. Maybe, he was just relieved or even pleased that he had persuaded me to give him a spanking?

I should say at this point that there was absolutely no sign of sexual pleasure in his private area. I have read other stories where boys have shown signs of excitement before being spanked. Maybe it’s a nerves thing, or maybe it is sexual? Either way, by the time I had finished spanking my son, even had there been any initial sexual excitement it was long gone by the time he got back up from my lap! 

I instructed him to lower his jeans. As he did so, I turned Alan’s bedside alarm clock to face me. I waited a moment, then asked my son if he was really sure he wanted to be spanked. I wondered if the reality of the moment may have given him second thoughts. He answered clearly that he had thought of little else recently and understood what he was letting himself in for – I had my doubts about that!

He looked quite a sight standing before me with his jeans rolled down to his ankles. I told him I was going to place him across my knees. I would then pull his underpants down and wait until the big hand on the alarm clock reached the 12. I would then begin his spanking, and I would not stop under any circumstances until the full minute was up.

By now, I was sort of ‘in the mood’, if you like. I was mentally prepared to spank him. Strangely, the look on his face irritated me. I was overcome with an odd feeling. Even though he had done nothing to deserve this, my instinct was to put him across my knee and smack him soundly. It may sound weird, but at the time I seem to recall it feeling ‘natural’ – just another mum spanking her son; happens all round the world and has done for probably centuries. 

I took his hand, guided him close to my side and he tipped forward, I settled him centrally across my knees. I pulled his underwear down and slid my right hand (I’m left handed) firmly over the far side of his waist. I shuffled myself, tucked him in tighter and got myself set. I had him perfectly positioned, and he lay still and silent.

I checked the clock – just over 10 seconds to wait. I placed my smacking hand on his bottom, which felt warm and soft. I told him he had 10 seconds to wait. I took measure of my target and composed myself. 

I raised my arm and as the clock’s second hand touched the 12, I smacked my open palm down firmly on my son’s bottom. By the time I had raised my hand and delivered the second smack his head was rearing up, shocked by the first smack. He gasped, dropped back down and inhaled loudly as the first few smacks made their mark. After 10 seconds and approximately 12 to 15 well-placed, hard smacks his bum was already turning pink. He hissed and made a strange ‘whooshing’ noise.

I must say, considering this was my first spanking, I felt surprisingly calm and unemotional. Detached, almost – I just concentrated on the job in hand.

My son was twisting and grinding and sucking in air noisily. His legs straightened, then crooked, as they began to take on an almost ‘breast stroke’ movement. His arms scrabbled desperately around under the chair. I assume he was searching for a something to hold – he found my ankle with one hand and held that, I assumed the other hand found a chair leg.

I glanced over at the alarm clock – 25 seconds had passed, and his bottom was colouring up nicely. My ‘strike rate’ was still around 12-15 smacks every 10 seconds, or thereabouts. His movements were becoming more frantic, grinding and clenching his bottom as the sting built, smack by smack.

I should imagine my son may well have been regretting his request about then – but sadly for him, we were only half way through!

He was now breathing erratically, and although not crying out, he was making some strange noises. As for me, I felt fully in control. He was unable to escape and I had a good firm hold of him. I was spanking hard and steadily, and felt that I could have carried on comfortably for at least a few more minutes, had it been necessary or required. That surprised me. 

I remained calm throughout. I simply placed my smacks from cheek to cheek, methodically and hard. I was never at any point angry because there was no reason for me to be angry. I also took no pleasure from spanking him. I simply went through the motions, applying a minute-long sound spanking as requested.

With just over 20 seconds to go, he straightened both legs stiffly, and held them like that for a couple of seconds, bottom clenched tightly, toes pointed.

He released his breath with a sort of high pitched noise, a bit like a kettle whistling. His legs were spread shamelessly wide open, but at that point I don’t think he much cared about what Mum could see!  

I changed my pattern and landed 10 of the hardest smacks I could muster, all placed on the crease between bottom and thigh. Those really got his attention! The change in tactic – slower, deliberate and much harder smacks – drew the first real verbal indication of how much he was suffering. A hand flew back, which I gathered rather expertly (in my humble opinion!) and seamlessly carried on smacking his bottom. I guessed his hand had come back because the sting was becoming unbearable. Mind you, I did plant those 10 with full force!

A rather strained voice gasped: “How…long?” “Fifteen seconds!” I replied – and wound up for the big finish. I smacked as hard and as fast as I could, and my son reacted by yelling and ‘swimming’ for his life! My strike rate was easily 15 or more each 10 seconds now, so my big finish was at least 20 to 25 of the hardest smacks delivered and he was kicking and bucking for England.

It was, if I do say so myself, a thorough and comprehensive spanking that left my son’s bare bottom a mixture of various mottled shades of red! There were tiny red dots here or there on both buttocks. On the cheek furthest from me, a darker red patch had formed right on the crease between thigh and bottom. I must have landed several smacks on that same spot, as it had a darker tinge along the lower edge. 

I may possibly have sneaked over the minute by a second or two but when I did stop, my boy’s relief was clearly audible. He deflated and hissed like an old engine overheating! He hung over my knees, breathing in and blowing hard as the stinging heat generated from the spanking slowly spread deeper into his now very sore bottom. 

I took a deep breath myself and exhaled quietly, and calmed myself down after my exertions. My son ground his hips slowly from side to side as he groaned and began to regain his senses.

I kept his hands away from his sore bottom and left him dangling limply across my knees for perhaps 10 to 15 seconds. Then, satisfied with my endeavours, I patted his bottom gently and pulled his underwear up. As I did so, I warned him that he was not to rub his bottom. I stood him up in front of me, holding his forearms to help him, and looked into his eyes.

His face was an absolute picture. Shock was clearly evident in those moist eyes glistening back at me. He looked properly shaken, off balance, and he swallowed hard a few times. This was, after all, his first time.

“Well – did that feel like a proper spanking?” I asked. As soon as I spoke, the tears started rolling down his cheeks. Overcome with emotion, he gulped and then broke into real crying. He stepped in close and wrapped his arms around my neck, sobbing into my bosom. I allowed him a few moments there. As he cried, I gave his bottom a couple of loving pats just with my fingers. I didn’t rub it, nor would I allow him to. It was quite an emotional moment, holding my son so close.

He released his hug, stood back and admitted that really stung a lot more than he expected. I then asked him if he was ready to admit a minute was long enough, as he had seemed disappointed that I wouldn’t smack him for longer no so long ago! He nodded, sniffed and fought the next wave of tears currently welling.  I didn’t feel the need to labour the point – he looked like a properly well-spanked little boy to me.

I asked him if he felt that was sufficient punishment for pinching the sausage roll and he whispered a weak ‘yes Mum.’  We then had a 30 second pause, where I sat impassively watching him wipe away tears, rub his legs together and wiggle about to try to minimise the sting. I figured that a little humiliation would do him good – plus it gave that sting a bit longer to work effectively!

“No more pinching sausage rolls, then?” I asked with a smile. A shake of the head and a hard swallow was my answer.

I asked him to turn around, and I lowered his underpants just enough to see the results of my labour. Oh boy, did that looked sore! A deep red bottom was presented for me to admire. I ran the backs of my fingers across one red bottom cheek and it felt warm to the touch. No damage, but I bet it stung like hell.

I confess I allowed myself a few seconds to admire the sight, and approved the result. I slipped his underwear back up and gave him permission to leave the room. He pulled up his jeans carefully and wandered off slowly without speaking. I believe he was genuinely shocked at how much a smacked bottom from his mum could hurt, which was no bad thing.

I replaced the chair and the clock back in their rightful places, took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘That wasn’t so hard after all,” I remember thinking to myself. I may have even allowed myself a smile. I didn’t enjoy it, but I did feel some satisfaction. He’d been spanked properly, as requested, and it would be a long time before he forgot how it felt. I was also confident he would never ask me to do it again.

My son took himself off to his room, where I imagine he eased his jeans down and massaged his sore bottom for quite a while. I left him to his thoughts and went about my daily routine. I confess I thought of nothing else for hours, and replayed the whole episode over and over in my head, mainly convincing myself I had done the right thing by my son. I believe I did.

For most of the day my son was quiet and stayed in his room, but he recovered and surfaced by late afternoon. He asked if we could keep what happened just between us, in particular from his sister. I agreed.

At bedtime that evening, I made a point of checking on him. I gave him a long hug and told him I loved him. He had a few more tears, though not many, and I wiped them away for him. I would add that from that day to this, our relationship became warmer, more tactile and more open. 

He was never spanked again, neither was our daughter. I did occasionally give him a warning to assert my authority, just to keep him in check. “Carry on like that and we’ll be setting that alarm clock for five minutes!” was enough to correct any little attitude problems that arose during the early teen years!   

I told my husband Alan all about our little mum/son chat and it was at that point he made a confession of his own. He had secretly had an interest in spanking. Frightened of losing his girlfriend, he decided to keep his spanking fantasies to himself. Even after we married he couldn’t bring himself to tell me, and it was only after I told him about our son’s sausage roll confession that he finally summoned the courage to confess all. Then later, after the discovery of Maman, he introduced me to his little secret.

We have dabbled with a little spanking in the bedroom since, and I admit it has spiced things up and freshened up our foreplay. Alan’s interest in spanking is general, giving or receiving. I have no preferrence, providing it is gentle and loving, not severe.

Over time, I have found Alan has requested to receive far more than he gives. There is a certain amount of pleasure to be gained from watching your husband’s cute rear end wiggle across your knee as it turns pink. I recommend more girls try this – the effect on what happens afterwards is dramatic! 

I never really got to the bottom of why our son confessed to pinching that sausage roll. If it had been sexual curiosity, you could imagine that as a younger boy he would ask for a few playful smacks to his bum, but that never happened, although I wouldn’t have had an issue with it.

I’m pretty confident he didn’t enjoy the spanking I did give him. As I said earlier, there was no sign of sexual excitement, although perhaps that came after his punishment, rather than before or during. Maybe he genuinely felt a level of guilt he found difficult to live with. 

I sincerely hope that he found whatever it was he wanted from the experience. I assume he did, because he never asked me to spank him again. But I guess we’ll never know.

Contributor: Ruth

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