I have already shared a story about how my mother spanked me when I was a little boy. Although it hurt, in retrospect it did me a lot of good so when I became a father, in turn I spanked my own children.
This is the story of the first time I had to smack my daughter Clara’s bottom. She was six years old at the time. The entire family had spent the day at a local amusement park to celebrate the 10th birthday of her brother Marcos.
The day passed quietly and happily enough – until the time came to leave for home. Clara didn’t want to go, and so threw an almighty tantrum. Not wanting to make a scene, my wife grabbed our daughter and, putting her over her shoulder, took her firmly back to the car, all the time whispering in her ear that her bottom would be paying for her behaviour when we got her home.
On arrival, Clara threw another tantrum, and both my wife and I felt we had had more than enough of this behaviour. It was decided that as her father and head of the household, I would be the one to deal with her.
I took Clara in my arms and carried her up to the parental bedroom. I sat down on the bed, stood my daughter on her feet, and told her: “I’m very angry with you, Clara. This behaviour will end this minute!”
I put my daughter across my knee and lifted her dress. She began to cry and scream – she had seen her brother in the same position several times, so she knew full well what was about to happen to her.
I turned a deaf ear to Clara’s protests and lowered her panties, and she began to cry even louder. Ignoring the noise, I then began to spank her. I only used my hand but it was hard enough to seriously smart, and after about 15 smacks her bottom was scarlet and she was just slumped over daddy’s knee, crying her heart out. I put her back on her feet, hugged her to reassure her that I still loved her, then took her downstairs to apologise to her mother.
So that was the first – but not the last – time Clara went across my knee for a whipping.