When I was growing up, spankings were used by my parents as the primary method of discipline. Most of the time, my mother would take us into her room, sit on her dressing table bench, pull our pants down or lift our skirts up, then spank us with her hand up to the age of 10 and then the hairbrush thereafter. These punishments were given in private, turned your bottom sore for about a day, and were the consequence of the vast majority of our misbehaviour.
However, for the more serious infractions, we were given a spanking with the breadboard. I never remember it being used to cut bread on, but it was a nasty punishment tool. It measured about 6in and perhaps 14in long with a good solid handle. It was made of some kind of alternating light and dark wood strips, and the first swat would send the boy or girl receiving it into hysterics.
Unlike regular punishments, breadboard spankings were given in the living room with everyone in the family present. The offender would have all clothing on the lower half of their bodies completely removed and they would be draped over the end of the couch with their butt high, making an excellent target. My mother would sit on the couch and hold the offender’s hands to keep them in place while my father administered the spanking.
There was always a lot of begging, promising to be good, pleading not to spanked hard – all of which fell on deaf ears. My father would tap the breadboard on the boy or girl’s bottom, then raise it high in the air and smack their butts with a very hard full swing. There was a loud crack when the board made contact with the target – you could see the buttocks compressing under the blow and jiggle a bit – and it was invariably accompanied by a loud scream from the child in question.
The first few smacks were accompanied by pleas of ‘I learned my lesson!’, ‘it hurts’ and ‘please – no more’ – accompanied by shrieks, howls and sobbing in between strokes. It didn’t take long before the only thing heard was frantic crying and sobbing as the sting in the butt and thighs quickly became overwhelming.
The culprit would also buck up and down, kick their legs in most obscene fashion, and wiggle and squirm doing anything to try to lessen the horrible fire in their backsides.
Breadboard spankings were always two smacks per year of age. We got it up to 18, when we were in high school, which could mean up to 36 36 devilish smacks, leaving your bottom deep red and sore for days.
After the spanking was administered, the offender was allowed to stand up and ‘dance’ for the viewing enjoyment of everyone present. The jumping around was frantic and without any regard to modesty. Needless to say, we girls particularly enjoyed seeing our brothers’ spanking dances as their private parts bounced up and down.
Then it was off to stand against the wall for 30 minutes, hands on your head. Most of this time was spent sobbing and shifting your weight from one foot back to the other in an unproductive attempt to reduce the throbbing pain in your butt. The older boys would develop a stiff erection at this time, which again was particularly entertaining for us girls.
There were probably less than half a dozen breadboard spankings a year, but they were always memorable and enjoyable – so long as it wasn’t you being spanked!