The missing link?

This may be a long shot, and I am not really sure where to begin. I may be completely mistaken, however there are so many similarities…

We recently had a family get-together at my parents’ home – quite a few family members attended over the weekend. When everyone had finally left, I stayed on for a day or so as I don’t live in the same area and wanted to spend some quality time with my parents.

On Monday morning, I asked my mother if I could borrow her laptop to check an eBay sale. When I opened up the computer, someone who had been previously using it had left a tab open at the Maman website. I had a quick, discreet browse of the site before closing the tab and looking at eBay – making sure I had note of your site’s address before doing so!

Later in the day, I asked my mother if she had used her laptop recently. She said she hadn’t, as she’s not much one for technology and rarely uses it. However, she did inform me that that several other family members had borrowed it over the weekend.

A few weeks later, after almost completely forgetting about it, I stumbled across the site address which I had written down and placed in my purse. I began to read one or two stories, without any real interest to be honest – I was more curious than anything. I did question the veracity of some of them – they seemed more like fiction. However, I do appreciate the feeling of a well smacked bum (having received many such punishments myself growing up) so I stuck with it and read a few more.

It was then that I came across an account entitled Seeing and getting. I am almost certain that this account involves me, as there are too many similarities to my own memories, plus the fact that the browser tab was obviously left open on my mother’s computer by another family member. If I am mistaken I apologise – however, I don’t think I am and I would like to give my own take on the account.

I am currently a grown women well into my late 30s. The author of the story went by the name of Mark. However, that is not his real name (if I am correct) but it is the only name that he changed throughout the account. I believe the writer to be my brother and I am the ‘Katie’ mentioned in his story.

Many years ago, I planned and managed to succeed in getting Mark (as I will continue to call him) the hiding of his life and I will explain why. I would also recommend that people read Mark’s account first, if they haven’t already, to gain a better understanding of why I did what I did.

Growing up, I got many sound spankings. I got the occasional one from Dad but they were mostly administered by Mum. I was no stranger to her knee and her spankings were serious and rightly feared by her children.

Sometimes I was spanked alongside my siblings, if we had all been naughty, or in some cases where one of us had done something wrong and refused to own up.

When this happened, we would normally line up in age order – youngest to eldest – for a trip across Mum’s knee. The punishments were always administered on the bare bottom with her hand, wooden spoon, slipper or hairbrush.

Being about two years younger than Mark, I always went in front of him – meaning he always had a good view of my bare bottom and witnessed my spanking while he awaited his. It was very rare that I witnessed his own whacking, as going first I was usually pushed off Mum’s lap and sent to my room. In any case I was in no mood to hang around, nursing a sore bum.

My story really begins in September, a week or two before my 13th birthday. Thirteenth birthdays were a big deal in our house and Mother always wanted to make it special by having a bit of a party and allowing us to invite a few friends over.

At 12, I was rather rebellious and a bit of a tomboy. I was always dirty and messy, and often doing things ‘normal’ girls wouldn’t at that age, such as climbing trees etc.

On this particular day, Mother had told me several times to tidy my bedroom (which was a disgrace, to be fair) and to change my bedding, especially as the party was looming.

At that age, my idea of cleaning my room was to throw everything under the bed. This included assorted rubbish, sweet wrappers, drink bottles, screwed up school work, dirty clothes and even underwear. I thought tidying my room was a bore and time consuming, so I thought by throwing it all under the bed I could make it look tidy.

Well, my downfall came on a Saturday morning – I suddenly had no clean underwear and couldn’t find any anywhere. I went downstairs to look in the clean washing basket and on the washing line but again none were to be found.

At this point I complained to Mother that she had not done my washing and I had no clean underwear. Mother replied that she washed everything she had been given, and I needed to look harder.

I went back to my room, when it suddenly dawned on me that all my dirty knickers must be under my bed. I looked, and to my horror there was a massive mountain of washing that had accumulated. There was no way I could put everything in the wash at once as Mother would have gone mental, so I grabbed a dirty pair, put them on and placed just a few items in the wash basket. I told Mother the panic was over – IO had found my clean knickers, and off I went out to play with a friend.

It was mid-afternoon when I returned and I noticed my father’s car was gone and the house was fairly quiet. I went around the back of the house and into the conservatory, where i found my mother sitting. To my horror, in the chair next to her was that mountain of dirty washing from under my bed. Evidently, after my questioning that morning Mother had realised she had not washed many items belonging to me, so she had gone to my room to investigate.

She immediately told me how disappointed she was that I had lied about tidying my room. But she added that she was even more upset about my lack of hygiene. She pretty much went to town on me, asking what underwear I had been wearing, insisting that I couldn’t have been changing my pants regularly. She told me I was a disgrace and a ‘filthy little cow’.

Now, Mum and I often clashed and I would often find myself slapped, thrashed or grounded – or sometimes all three. Being called a ‘filthy cow’ really hit a nerve, and I yelled and screamed back.

It all escalated quickly. Mum grabbed me by the hair, pulled me into the dining room and before I knew it, I was bent across the table with my skirt raised up high and my knickers yanked down.

Now, being a girl, being bared and exposed in front of Mum didn’t bother me in the slightest – but what did bother me very much was that Mum’s thrashings were no fun at all and she always meant serious business. Naturally I was protesting and crying, trying to cover my bum before the spanking had even started.

I looked up and saw the wooden hairbrush already on the table, so I assume Mum had already decided to spank me for my messy room and lies. I think I just made the situation a lot worse by my reaction. I remember Mother pushing her hand down firmly on the small of my back and proceeding to thrash the living daylights out of me. I was struggling, screaming, kicking, bucking and probably promising the world for it to stop. When it finally did stop, I was sent to my room to clean it – and stay there until further notice.

As I turned around to enter the living room, to my absolute horror I saw Mark sitting there with a big smirk on his face. Up until this point, I had assumed the house was empty.

Now, as I said, I had been spanked in front of Mark before many times – but never to that degree of exposure or intensity. I felt immediately  ashamed and shy as I ran up the stairs to my room. I turned over and over in my mind all the possibilities of what Mark had witnessed and seen as I got my spanking, especially as girls tend to show more from the back than boys.

I wondered whether my brother had been there from the start. It was really upsetting, especially as myself and Mark never got along and we would always try and get each other in trouble. The following morning, my horror was confirmed when Mark made no delay in teasing me and telling me exactly what he had seen, and still so smug about it all.

As previously mentioned, I had never really seen Mark properly punished, and as he was older than me I assumed I never would, especially as Mark was nearing the age when he would be too old for a spanking, although he was sill frequently threatened with a good hiding.

But I wanted my revenge – and no matter what it took, I set out to make his life hell and to get him into as much trouble as I could. At worst, I wanted him grounded. At best, I wanted to see his pants taken down for a good hiding over Mother’s knee.

A week or so later, I turned 13 – so Mark would have been about 14 and half. In my quest for revenge, I deliberately set out to annoy Mark even mor ethan usual, hoping he would react and get in trouble.

The plan began to work. Before long, I had earned Mark a couple of early bedtimes. This naturally led to our relationship getting progressively worse and worse, and we would constantly fight, argue and bicker.

Then, one day, I caught Mark in a really bad mood and he reacted by actually hitting me. This was not unusual – he had hit me many times and I had often given as good as I got – but he had not hit me in a good while.

I looked down and saw a red mark on my arm, so I ran out to the garden where Mother was doing some weeding. With tears in my eyes, I told her that Mark had hit me for no reason.

Mum abruptly walked into the house, grabbed my brother by the ear and asked him why he had hit me. He denied all responsibility, claiming I had hurt myself and was just trying to get him into trouble again. Now, although Mum was firm she was also fair, and to my dismay she told Mark she would give him the benefit of the doubt on this occasion. However, she added that if she ever caught him hitting me again, she would pull his trousers and pants down and thrash him within an inch of his life with the hairbrush.

I must admit, hearing Mother say that to Mark gave me a warm, funny feeling down below. I knew from experience that Mum never made empty threats, so in my mind it was not a question of if this spanking should happen but just a question of when. I if it was a question of when it would happen and I made damn sure it did…I also knew how mortifying those would would have been to Mark at his age and said in front of his sister, I was very smug and immedialety started plotting.

If this was going to work I had to plan it properly and pick my moment. A few weeks later was the school half term holidays – it must have been a Wednesday as Mark had youth club on Wednesdays and on this particular day there was a special event at the club that Mark had been talking about all week and was looking forward to. For my own part, it was my intention that he should not go!

After supper that evening it was Mark’s and mine turn to clear the dishes. I knew Mark would be eager to wash as drying and putting the dishes away took a lot longer and he was keen to get to the youth club. So, being the bitch of a sister that I was, I quickly jumped up and began washing dishes – very smugly and proud of myself as well.

Mark asked me surprisingly politely if he could wash instead. Naturally I refused and continued to taunt him about the situation, which progressively aggravated my brother.

I knew I had him right where I wanted him. I proceeded to slow down too, washing the dishes as slowly as possible to further cost him time – this, of course, annoyed him even more. I continued the onslaught by splashing him with dirty dish water.

Mark responded to this by threatening to hit me – I calmly reminded him that he could not hit me, as he knew the consequences Mum had threatened him with. However he did mutter something about not being scared of Mum.

At this point, I snatched the tea towel Mark was using to dry out of his hand, with the intention of throwing it across the kitchen to further anger him. I didn’t get as far as that, though. At that moment, Mark punched me angrily – and really hard – on the top of my arm. It instantly and genuinely hurt. I began screaming and crying real tears. I vaguely remember Mark apologising and pleading with me to be quiet – but it was too late. In an instant, Mother was on the scene. “What did I say would happen if you hit your sister again? You have had it, young man!”

What happened next was a little of a blur for me. All at the same time, I felt a bit queasy and funny, but had butterflies of anticipation in my own belly. No way was I going to miss what was about to happen!

Mum was sat in her rocking chair, and I remember her words to this day: “Get ‘em down!” Mark refused and protested, as you would expect, but what happened next really startled me. In the blink of an eye, Mum yanked my brother’s trousers down to his knees, quickly followed by his underpants.

At this point I didn’t actually see much apart from my brother’s very white bottom. Mark quickly jumped over Mum’s lap to hide his privates, I guess.

Mother started to smack Mark’s bottom with her hand. Unable to contain my glee, I asked Mother if she would like me to fetch the hairbrush. Obviously she said yes.

I happily fetched the instrument of correction and handed it to Mum. She then used it to thrash my brother like I had never seen before – it was pretty much in anger – hard, fast and relentless. She shouted at him while she was spanking, calling him a ‘bully’ and a ‘bastard’, adding that he had this spanking coming for a long time.

I began to wonder myself when the spanking would stop. I noticed Mark was struggling to catch his breath between the smacks. His screaming and crying was awful and his bum was various shades of scarlet and purple. Suddenly, the brush either broke of fell out of Mother’s hand – I can’t remember which. But I do remember her taking off her sandal to finish the job.

Once Mother was done, she pushed Mark off her knee and on to the floor. He stood up and quickly ran off to his room, but not before I had a good look at his privates, exposed in his haste to get away. I vaguely remember mum shouting after him that he was grounded, but I guess at that moment that was the least of my brother’s troubles.

The next day I was still extremely smug and could not wait Mark tell him what I had witnessed and got shown. I think I mentioned that he looked pretty pathetic exposed like that!

Contributor: Kate (aka Katie!)

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