One of my most memorable spankings was from a young babysitter called Peggy Parker, who warmed not only my own bottom but that of my younger brother Mark.
At the time of this incident, Peggy was 15 and a high school sophomore in the 10th Grade. She was a pretty brunette with medium length hair.
Peggy was a member of the cheerleading squad and a ‘straight A’ student – however, despite her exemplary school work and being generally well-behaved, she was not spared a spanking herself when her parents thought she needed one. I knew this from overhearing conversations my mom had with Mrs Parker. From this, I learned that Peggy got it on the bare bottom and that her mother’s implement of choice – like my own mom – was the hairbrush.
I also gathered from these chats that Mr Parker also occasionally administered corporal punishment to his daughter – he only used his hand, but again this was on Peggy’s bare behind. Mrs Parker told my mom that Peggy’s spankings were usually for answering back, bad attitude, not ‘minding’ and occasional curfew violations.
I should add that in those days, for the most part parents often talked very openly about spankings they gave their children, and often not stinting on the details, either. Parents took pride in and derived satisfaction from being known for their strict discipline, and this attitude had strong societal approval at the time too.
On the evening that Peggy spanked us, Mark and I were aged six and eight respectively. My parents had gone out and my two sisters, Ruth (12) and Sarah (10) were at a sleepover at a friend’s home. Peggy and us boys watched TV for a while, then at 7.30pm it was Mark’s bedtime. He whined a little but went to bed obediently.
My own bedtime was half an hour later. I made a few half-hearted (and futile) protests when the time came, but also went to bed. As I got into bed in the room I shared with Mark, Peggy reminded us both of the ‘no talking’ rule – something both my parents – especially my mother – were strict about.
Once the lights were off, there was to be absolutely no talking, and many a sore bottom had been earned for not observing that rule. For a first offence, we would get half a dozen or so hard slaps on our bare bottoms with either Mom or Dad’s hand. We would have to lie on our beds, drop our pyjama bottoms and our butt cheeks would be warmed. It stung plenty and produced a reaction for sure, but it was not that bad.
If we were caught talking again, it was a different matter – then it was either a proper over-the-knee spanking with Mom’s hairbrush or a session with Dad’s belt! We seldom needed a second reminder, I can tell you!
On this particular evening, I don’t think us boys really took Peggy that seriously. While she was in the living room we were fairly safe, because the volume of the TV masked our conversation. But whenever Peggy left the living room to either visit the bathroom or go to the kitchen for a drink, our voices became audible all right.
Twice she caught us out, each time issuing us with a stern warning. On the second occasion, she warned us: “Boys, next time it’s a spanking!” Even then, I don’t think we took her that seriously.
However, on the third occasion Peggy’s patience finally ran out and we were unceremoniously marched downstairs into the living room. A straight-backed chair – kept in there largely for spankings – was placed in the centre of the room and Peggy sat down on it.
Then we both had our pyjama bottoms lowered and our bare behinds soundly spanked. I was first – as spankings went, it was not a huge deal but it still hurt. Even though Peggy only used her hand, the slaps really stung and my buttocks were thoroughly reddened by the time she was done.
I think I got between 20 or 25 spanks. After the first couple of slaps I merely winced, while the next four or five produced ‘ows’ or ‘ouches’ from me. From then on, my reactions became a lot more animated by the time the punishment was over I was sobbing like a baby.
Peggy let me up, and I hopped from foot to foot, cupping and rubbing my sore and hot butt cheeks! After a minute or so of doing this I was told to stand in the corner, although in contrast to Mom and my Aunt Rose, I was allowed to continue rubbing my bottom.
Next it was Mark’s turn. I’m sure Peggy went easier on him in view of his age, and she certainly dished out fewer slaps, but Mark howled and sobbed from beginning to end. After he had been spanked, Peggy briefly cuddled and comforted him before escorting him to the corner as well.
We then both spent 10 minutes in the corner while Peggy lectured us on our behaviour and the need to show her some respect. I think that at times like these, our teenage sitters must have felt terribly grown up and mature – particularly as they had been in our position many times themselves.
Finally, Peggy escorted us back to our bedroom and saw us both tucked back up in bed. As she was about to return to the living room, we both pleaded with her not to tell our parents about the spankings. Peggy promised that she wouldn’t, provided we both remained quiet and did not start talking again.
In retrospect, Peggy was a good sport and one of the more friendly and nice girls who sat for us. Often, if she had no homework to do, she would play games with us and treat us to cookies and milkshakes.
The following morning, we managed to conceal our naked bottoms from Mom as we got dressed. A quick glance in the bedroom mirror had revealed that there were very faint traces of the previous night’s spanking on my cheeks. Mark’s bottom, I noticed, was slightly more marked than mine – I suppose his younger skin was softer and more sensitive than mine. However, by the following morning any remaining marks had virtually disappeared from both our behinds, and we managed to escape another spanking.
Peggy never spanked us again, though she would occasionally threaten to in a jokey manner. We even got a few playful swats on the seat of our pyjamas. But that one spanking l did receive from her will always remain for me a very special and treasured memory.