A little bit of drama

Before I was born, my mum and dad were involved in amateur theatre – in fact, its how they met. I wasn’t smacked for punishment at home, and the cane, or any form of physical punishment was no longer used at school. So I grew up without that threat hanging over me. I wasn’t fussed about it, somehow I knew what it was, so it wasn’t that big a deal. I certainly wasn’t obsessed with the subject.

One day, when I was around seven years old, Dad took me along to a rehearsal he was involved in. Dad was playing a part in the play, and I watched with much amusement as he put on his outfit. He was playing the part of an old-fashioned shopkeeper, so had to wear old fashioned clothes, a funny fake beard, fingerless gloves and a cap.

I watched the rehearsal and, truth be told, I was getting a bit bored because they rehearsed one scene about five times. After a break, a boy perhaps a bit older than me came on set with a couple of women, also dressed in old-fashioned clothes. The boy had britches held up with braces and a flat cap (think Oliver Twist). There was also a cart selling bread, as if part of a market.

In the next scene to be rehearsed, the boy was caught red-handed stealing bread by the younger women. I was suddenly very interested when she sat on a bench and pulled the boy across her knees. She scolded him and gave him a spanking for stealing. He kicked and complained and the woman shouted “thou shalt not steal, wicked child!” as she spanked him. It looked amazingly realistic – the smacks looked real and the boy’s acting was brilliant. He really looked like he was being spanked soundly. 

The spanking didn’t last long, and it finished with the woman appearing to smack extra-hard, shouting: “I shall take you to the workhouse this very day, you wretched little thief!” The boy was then allowed up from her lap, and dragged complaining and holding his sore bottom from the stage.

There was a shout of: “Super! Well done – let’s take a break.” 

After the scene ended there were smiles all round, I heard the lady who spanked the boy say: “Well done, Toby. That was excellent – well done!” There were others complimenting the scene, and one lady clapped her hands saying: “Bravo, Toby!” Everybody then took their places to prepare for another scene and they moved to a sort of workhouse where the boy had been sent for stealing.

I was fascinated. I couldn’t take my eyes off the lady who had given the spanking.

Later during a tea break I sidled up to the boy and asked him if the spanking hurt. He, a couple of other actors and the lady who had actually spanked him laughed. The lady explained to me how Toby had a little padding in his trousers, just in case, but she only pretended to smack hard – in fact, she hardly touched him. Toby confirmed: “It’s just pretend – it doesn’t hurt at all.”  

Then the spanking lady said: “Come with me, darling ≠ let me show you!” She took my hand before I had a chance to react. To everybody’s amusement, including my Dad, the lady sat on the same bench used to spank Toby. I looked back at my dad, and all the other people watching.

“Now, I promise I won’t hurt you,” she said, keeping hold of my hand. She smiled, then began. “You are a wicked child! I shall send you to the workhouse this very day, but not before I give you the soundest of spankings for your trouble,” she scolded. Then, with surprising speed, ease and skill, she put me across her knees, tucked me in and began to spank me.

It was the strangest feeling – she was sort of rolling sideways as she raised her hand high and brought it down to pat my bum. It must have looked like I was getting a really sound spanking but in fact I hardly felt a thing, just the lightest of smacks. The lady seemed to really enjoy her role, and my ‘audience’ certainly enjoyed the performance.

“Thou shalt not steal, you wicked boy!” she continued as she continued to spank me. I must admit my acting skills were not up to Toby’s standard. I lay quite still just looking around as best I could at the other actors, all smiling, watching me get my bottom smacked. I did attempt to kick and wiggle a bit but my spanking ended just as I was getting into my role of a thief.

Before she released me, the lady asked: “There, you see? Didn’t hurt a bit, did it?” I shook my head. “No – I did feel your hand but it didn’t hurt,” I answered. It was true – she did pat my bum a bit but there was hardly any effect, especially through my jeans.

Still holding me across her knee, the lady must have looked over at my dad. I heard her say: “Any other business to take care of before I release him, Mike?” As she waited for my dad’s answer, her hand rested on my bum, her fingers tapping me. I heard Dad laugh, answering: “Probably Debbie, but I can’t think of anything off the top of my head!” Debbie replied playfully: “Oh! Seems such a shame to waste the opportunity!”

There was laughter, and Debbie helped me to my feet. Standing up, she gave me a playful rub on the head. “Did you enjoy that, darling?” I admitted I did. She smiled and said: “Perhaps we should have you cast as Toby’s understudy.” I didn’t know what that meant, but I did enjoy my spanking.

They got back to rehearsals, and I was barely able to take my eyes off Debbie. She was playing a different role in this scene but my head was still back in the previous one. I just kept thinking to myself: I’ve been across that lady’s knee and been spanked. This really fired my imagination. I understood why they pretended to smack, but I couldn’t help but think it would be better if they smacked for real.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened after that, and when rehearsal was over and Dad had changed back into his normal clothes, the company stood making plans for their next rehearsal meeting. Toby now looked just like me, wearing normal clothes. I don’t know why, but I assumed the lady who spanked him was his mum but in fact she was a complete stranger – his own parents arrived later to pick him up.

Debbie re-appeared in jeans and a shirt and looked so normal, and without her outfit and makeup she was very pretty and younger than I realised.

She said goodbye to my dad and said, “It was very nice to meet you Tony, and I won’t really send you to the workhouse! Did you enjoy your spanking?” I nodded and replied: “Yes, thank you – it was really good.” Laughing, Debbie answered: “Bless! Anytime you want another one, darling, come and ask. Any time!” She left in a flurry of goodbyes. I instantly liked her.

Back home, the more I thought about my experience, the more I wanted another spanking – but a bit harder. My pretend spanking had whetted my appetite. Mum had done acting – still does now and then – no reason why she couldn’t give me one, I thought?

I asked her if she had ever spanked a boy in the plays that she had been in? She laughed and shook her head. “No, I’ve not played that role, more’s the pity! I assume you saw the thief get spanked before being sent to the workhouse at rehearsal?” I nodded.

“Would you play the part with me please, Mum? I like it.” “How do you know you like it?” I told her all about my ‘debut’ in the acting rehearsals. Mum was cool about it, mostly because Dad was right there when it happened. “So Debbie gave you a lesson in acting, huh? And now you want to play that part with me?”

Did I ever! I nodded. “Yeah, to see how you do it.” I added, hoping Mum might actually smack rather than pretend. “OK, then. You mean now?” “Yes please, Mum.” “Well, give me a second to get in character!”

Mum stopped what she was doing and turned away from me. A few seconds later, she turned back, crying: “Stop, thief! I have caught thee red-handed, thou wretched child! I shall spank you soundly and send you to the workhouse! Come here, child – do not deny you are a thief!”

I took Mum’s outstretched hand, and in an embarrassing effort to join in I denied I was a thief, and that she was mistaken. Mum was brilliant. She shook me by the shoulders, saying: “You are a liar and a thief! You are a wicked child and I shall take to the workhouse myself this very day – but not before I have given you the soundest of spankings!” 

Mum took a step back, turned the chair and pulled me across her knees. I was impressed with the way mum easily pulled across her knees, much like Debbie. OK, I wasn’t resisting at all but still, Mum had me across her knee in a split second. Wrapping her arm around my waist and hoisting me further over, she scolded: “Wicked child! Thou shall feel my wrath and my hand! I shall spank you until I have no strength left to raise my arm!” I played along, I denied I was a thief and kicked my legs up and down, and I begged not to be sent to the workhouse. 

After a few play smacks and some pretty good ‘scolding’ from Mum, I lay still and concentrated on the smacks. I couldn’t really see Mum’s hand, but I could barely feel her smacks. I started laughing.

Mum laughed herself, bug trying to stay in character, she scolded: “Wicked, wicked child! I shall beat you even harder for laughing!” I lay there over Mum’s knees, laughing my socks off. I did manage to say: “I can’t feel anything, Mum!”

“You cheeky boy! How dare you laugh? I’ll give you laugh!” Mum then started smacking me with a bit more enthusiasm, I could actually feel her smacks now, even through my jeans. Each smack cracked smartly. This was more like it – at last I felt like I was being smacked.

I called back over my shoulder: “That’s better, Mum – do it like that!” Feeling more confident, I tried to play my part as the thief. “Please don’t send me to the workhouse,” I cried, “I promise never to steal again, I promise, I promise!” For me, the fact that I could feel these smacks made all the difference. Through the seat of my jeans it was nothing more than a mild, warm stingy feeling in my bottom, but in my head it felt real.

My spanking, such as it was, probably only lasted half a minute but it felt real enough for me to enjoy – and enjoy it I did. Mum smacked me a few more times without saying anything before finishing with: “Now, it’s off to the workhouse with you, wretched child!” She gave me a last firm smack and released me, and I slid off her lap and back on to my feet.

Mum was smiling. “That was fun – I haven’t played that role before. Did you enjoy that?” “Yes, Mum, it was great fun – it felt more realistic when I could feel the smacks.”

She replied: “Well normally we don’t smack, just ‘tap touch’. If I was to smack a child actor like that, I’d be in a lot of trouble. But as you are my son and you laughed, and asked for it, I was more than happy to oblige. You know, you were very believable, Tony – perhaps you should get involved in amateur dramatics at school?” I wasn’t bothered by the acting. I couldn’t say anything, but it was the spanking I liked!

Mum and I watched the first performance of the play Dad was involved in. I watched Debbie spank Toby again, and felt quite jealous. Toby and I made friends after the performance. We were close for some time but sadly Toby went off the rails later in life and got in with the wrong crowd. I do still sometimes see Debbie, and we stop and chat now and then. She has two children and gave up acting when she had them.

As I said at the start, my childhood memories of spanking are happy ones, and these two spankings fuelled my fantasies through the difficult teenage years. I often wonder whether I would ever have realised I enjoyed spanking if Debbie hadn’t taken me across her knees that day.

Contributor: Tony

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