The view from the stairs

My parents were firm believers in spanking. I recall hearing my mother tell an expecting younger woman that she was a ‘red bottom mom’. I know that she in turn had received serious spanking from her parents, and she was always quick to give out everything from spur-of-the-moment spanks over our undies to serious bare-bum whuppings when we were older.

Mom was the primary spanker in the house for both me and my three sisters. I was torn over resentment over what I considered unfair embarrassment as the only boy – and relief that my father was sparing with his spankings, as his were always serious affairs.

I don’t think Dad’s parents spanked him, except maybe as a little boy, but when a serious consequence was necessary, he would step up to the plate. This memory, however, is not about a spanking I received from either my mom or my father.

I grew up at the tail end (pun intended) of the great American spanking era, but I had the curse and blessing to find myself in a comparatively rural region of my state that despite some of its more enlightened tendencies still clung to traditional social structures and mores.

My parents were educated professionals, although my mother stayed at home until we were all in school, and my peers’ parents were a mix of other professionals and farmers.

Each group had its own attitude towards child rearing, but the results converged in places: one group of kids needed to have their wills broken in order to meet the rigid expectations of a nostalgic social order, while the other needed the self-discipline to prepare them for a harsh world. Both of these things usually meant that parents spanked – but ‘spanking’ could mean very different things from house to house.

Some of the more progressive parents did not spank. When the topic came up, some of my peers would rub our faces in their luck, while others would try to hide the fact in order to avoid becoming the butt of jokes about weakness.

From a very young age, I felt that ‘spanko’ sense of fascination whenever the topic arose. I hated spankings: at least in my house, they were truly painful affairs that rarely ended without tears and enough pain to remind me of my misdeed and humiliation for at least the rest of the day.

That said, at the least allusion to a butt warming, I felt myself draw in a sharp breath and my heart beat faster. I distinctly remember the first time I encountered a spanking reference in a book, which was before I could read: an older student read a few of us a book about a witch or something that include a variety of school punishments, including a switch. I can still picture the cover.

I will save those early memories of sharing spanking stories in school for another time. Instead, I want to tell you about one of my very early spanking memories. I must have been five or six, but I will do my best to recall as many details as possible.

Jack Jorgensen (name changed) was the same age as me, and he also stood out as one of the quieter kids in our kindergarten class. His parents worked in the same field as mine, and they had a lot of mutual respect for each other. I guess our parents decided we would make good playmates (or maybe my parents just wanted a break from me!) because I was informed before school one day that I would be spending the afternoon at Jack’s house.

Jack lived in a much more modern house than ours. Everything was very new, and there was lots of that weird stuff that I now know to be modern and contemporary art. I was impressed with it all, and I also felt somewhat intimidated.

Jack and I began to play with toy trucks or some other such boyish pastime, when his little sister Lili, who was around a year younger than us, barged into his room. He immediately ran screaming to his dad, but his dad firmly told him to share, and we resumed playing.

Unfortunately, Lili was not out to play – she was out to make trouble. She began to hog all the trucks and fight over them with Jack. This escalated into a physical fight and screaming, which brought their parents running. His father picked Lili up, and after both children wailed their side of the story, Mr Jorgensen turned to me to verify what he suspected – that Lili had not been playing nicely and had started the fight. I nodded, and that was that.

Jack’s mom, a middle-aged lady with big curly hair, wide hips and a solid ‘mom body’, carefully took Lili from her husband. He then warned Jack and I to continue playing nicely and not to venture out of the room while they dealt with his sister. We continued playing quietly as we listened to Jack’s father head back to his office and his mother lead a protesting Lili down the stairs to their living room.

The next thing I heard was some muffled slapping sounds and then loud wailing. Jack’s eyes lit up, and he whispered to me that his sister was getting ‘you know what’. I feigned ignorance and asked what that meant. Rather than explaining, Jack gestured to me to follow him out of his room. Ignoring his father’s warning, I followed him as we crawled along the carpeted hall to the stairs, carefully perching ourselves to look through the banisters at the scene unfolding below.

Mrs Jorgensen was seated on a trendy white L-shaped couch with her daughter bent over her lap. Lili’s yellow dress was turned up onto her back and her thick white tights were in a pile on the floor. My eyes immediately locked onto Lili’s panty-clad bottom.

I had often see my sisters’ panties, which fascinated me, but this was even better. My family (and apparently Jack’s family, given his father’s concern for Lili’s privacy) was pretty conservative around modesty, so panties were a big deal for me. I watched Mrs Jorgensen’s hand firmly smack the white polka-dotted briefs with frilly elastic trim, and I was mesmerised.

His mother paused, then pulled the panties down and off Lili’s kicking legs. I was in awe as I stared at everything on display, and so was Jack. The small round cheeks of her bottom were already quite pink but Mrs Jorgensen nevertheless resumed the spanking. We were so caught up in watching the spectacle that we did not hear or see Mr Jorgensen come up behind us!

Before we could comprehend what was happening, he had grabbed both of us by the back of our collars and was leading us down the stairs. Terror slowly drowned out my fascination even as Mrs Jorgensen continued to spank Lili.

Without even a lecture, Mr Jorgensen pulled Jack over to the other side of the couch and yanked off both his pants and undies. Amid all the chaos, I found it interesting to see one of my male peers in his undies and then naked, as without any brothers I had less of a frame of reference. I was glad to see that he also wore briefs, which I understood to be childish.

A stunned Jack quickly found himself over his father’s lap, receiving a hail of spanks, as I stood torn between watching my poor classmate and his fascinating sister. His father finally spoke, reproving both of us for spying on Lili and not heeding his warning, then asking his wife to ‘call Cal’s folks’.

She stopped spanking Lili, carefully setting her on her feet and giving her a tight hug. As Lili stood there crying, still much to my fascination, her mother left the room – only to reappear a few minutes later, by which time Lili had her panties back on and Jack’s bum was pretty red.

Mrs Jorgensen said: “Cal, I spoke with your mother and she shares our disgust at your behaviour. Please come over here.”

In a trance, I obeyed. Mrs Jorgensen calmly lowered my sweatpants, revealing my white briefs featuring construction equipment. Mercifully, she left those up. She guided me over her lap, and in that moment I felt a thousand conflicting feelings.

That moment also did not last, as her first spank shook me out of my trance. Mrs Jorgensen had a firm hand, and she quickly paddled my bum into a deep burn. I was crying in no time, kicking my legs and howling as Lili stood and watched, beginning to giggle. Soon Jack’s spanking was finished, and I felt even more humiliated as my friend and his sister observed my punishment. Just as I felt I could no longer take any more, I found myself getting a firm hug and then being set free.

Jack and I returned to his room, while Lili fled to hers. Jack and I took turns comparing our flaming heinies, then we spent the rest of the afternoon quietly planning with wooden trains.

When my mom came to pick me up, she briefly lifted the waistband of my sweats and pulled down the back of my briefs to admire her friend’s handiwork. She thanked the Jorgensen’s for watching me and taking care of my misbehaviour, then led me out and buckled me into my car seat.

Mom had just picked up two of my sisters from dance class, so as she lectured me about embarrassing her and getting into trouble at a friend’s house, I was extra humiliated even further.

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