The smacked bum party

Reading other stories here at Maman has encouraged me to write about the only memory I have of a childhood spanking. My overall memories are of a happy childhood, but one particular day stands out, and marked the beginning of my sexual awakening.

In the grand scheme of things, this is simply a case of a boy beginning to find his way in life. This is an account of a surprise spanking I received, confirming what I had suspected for some time – I liked it.

I was brought up in a modern, happy home, with good parents, and never really wanted for anything. Dad was self-employed and Mum worked part time while I was at school, then returned to full time work when I was older.

All of this took place after the abolition of corporal punishment in English state schools. My parents never smacked me either. My curiosity drove me to ask all my friends if they were smacked, hoping that one would say yes. However, without exception, punishment seemed to consist of the withdrawal of pocket money, toys, games, TV time and being kept in for a period of time.

To be honest, most of my friends didn’t seem to suffer any punishment at home at all. Mostly, there would be a serious discussion with their parents about their behaviour, and what was acceptable and what wasn’t.

Despite these happy childhood memories, for some bizarre reason, I craved a smacked bottom. My curiosity also drove me to research the subject. The punishments handed out to children of previous generations I found both scary and fascinating. The liberal use of corporal punishment in both schools and homes made me realise how lucky my generation was. Straps, canes and belts seemed to have been commonly used on children of my age, and even younger children suffered relatively severe punishment by modern day standards.

My spanking urges became stronger as I grew older, and became sexual the day I finally joined the smacked bottom club. As it turns out, it wasn’t the only spanking of my childhood. It was, however, the only one I remember.

New arrivals in our street meant a traditional welcome party – this had been a thing for years. At this particular party, I was roped into helping lay tables. I was given some paper plates and serviettes and asked to take them outside and place them on the two large wooden pub-style tables. There were bench seats either side of each table that could easily seat six people.

As I began to carry out this task there was a screaming, excitable mass of young children swarming around the tables. It seemed they were getting as close as they could to some of the young mums sitting on the benches with their backs to the tables, without actually getting caught.

One of their mums pretended to try and smack them as they ran close, which caused the boys in particular to dare each other to get closer and closer. Now and then she made contact and there was a scream of delight as one of the children got a smack. He or she (mostly boys!) would hop about, pretending the smack stung. This caused much merriment in the crowd of children.

Of course, the inevitable happened – a boy got caught. He squealed and wriggled as the lady, who I assumed was his mum, took a firm hold of him, wrapping her arms around him. The other children laughed their socks off.

Just as I put some paper plates beside her, she said: “Now I’ve gotcha!” Then, literally right in front of me, she tucked him under her arm, manoeuvred her wriggling victim between her legs, pushed him down across one of her thighs, and smacked his bum a few times. They were super quick fire, lightweight smacks, mostly landing on the dead centre of his bottom.

A thrill shot through me like an electric shock, almost as if I had received the smacks myself. The little boy laughed like a drain as the lady released him, looking very pleased with herself. “That’ll teach you!” she called after him, as he scampered back to the mob.

I could hardly believe my luck – I’d witnessed a spanking! The other ladies all enthusiastically approved of their friend’s action, and there was a buzz around the table. I vividly remember one woman rubbing her hands together briskly in anticipation of catching a child and warming a bottom herself.

The other children had briefly gone quiet as they watched the boy get his bum smacked. However, realising it was all in fun, they resumed the game. Of course, boys being boys, they dared each other to get closer still, and a couple got caught almost immediately. This time the same lady turned a different boy over her knee in the same way, playing to the audience of other mums and encouraging them to follow suit.

The other mum who had ‘caught’ a boy copied her and the boy found himself across her knee. Right there in front of me, those two boys got play spankings from these young mothers. All involved were laughing and clearly enjoying the game. I cannot remember if the mums were smacking their own sons, or just random children. The kids were all a couple of years younger than me, so I wasn’t sure who was related to whom. The ladies not actually carrying out the spanking were all thoroughly enjoying the spectacle – I don’t remember a single dissenting voice.

A third lady managed to catch another one of the boys. Sitting down next to one of the other ladies, she placed him over her knee and joined in the fun. “In for a penny!” she said, laughing. There were girls in the group but they hung back and didn’t get close enough to be caught. They did watch the proceedings very carefully, I noted.

I watched with mounting excitement and jealousy as these boys got their bottoms smacked. I was right in the middle of a spankfest – three little boys, all being spanked, one literally right next to me. I stood watching in awe. What fun it looked! I hardly knew where to look next – I was mesmerised, lost in my own little world, unaware of anything other than the three wriggling, giggling children being spanked.

One smaller boy, not much more than a toddler, didn’t quite understand the rules or object of the game. He just ran directly into the waiting arms of a woman I assume was his mum! She laughed at his attempt to join in, but the boy got a couple of pats to his rear end as he squirmed away. He ran straight into the arms of the next lady along the bench, who helped him on his way with yet another couple of pats to his bum.

During all this distraction, I hadn’t noticed my own mother approaching me from behind, silent as a ninja. She grabbed me and cried out: “Oh, look everyone! I caught a big one!” Before I knew it, amongst a crowd of baying mothers and laughing children, Mum had perched herself on the end of a seat and put me across her knee. My face was almost in the grass, my bum in the air and as I hung upside down, I saw a couple of paper plates laying on the grass beside me. To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

I heard another of the women shout out: “Oh, well done! Go on, mum, smack his bum!” Then I felt Mum’s hand smacking my bottom, and we were surrounded by laughing children watching me get spanked, and amused mothers making encouraging noises.

After a few seconds, amid all the shouting and screeching, I got my bearings. The pure excitement hit me – I was across Mum’s knee and being spanked! I remember calling half-heartedly for Mum to put me down, but it was chaotic fun.

There was a lot of encouragement from the other young mothers who had already dished out smacked bottoms galore. I had no idea at that point if there were other spankings being given or if I was the only one. I was certainly enjoying myself, make no mistake about that. There was a pause while Mum had a laugh with another woman, then she resumed spanking me. She adjusted me slightly, heaving me up, forward, and then in closer to her waist.

I heard a voice say: “Oh, come on, Sandy! Put some effort in to it! He won’t feel anything through those shorts!” Mum smacked me at a regular pace, and a bit harder now. I certainly could feel the smart through my thin summer shorts. The smacks sounded louder than they felt, though.

I heard another child squealing and assumed he had either been caught or was also being spanked at the same time. After another brief pause, for a chat, I heard Mum say, “Might as well, while he’s here!” She carried on smacking me. By now I was in seventh heaven. As I relaxed and hung limply, enjoying the sensation, I distinctly remember the first stirrings of an erection.

After what seemed quite a while, I was released. Kneeling in front of Mum, who had the widest smile on her face I’d seen for ages, I asked, “What was that for?” She replied: “It looked like fun, so I thought I’d join in!” Some of the younger children were still laughing at me and teasing me, chanting: “You got your bum smacked! You got your bum smacked!”

I got back to my feet, grabbing the dropped paper plates as I did so. As I went to stand I placed a hand on Mum’s knee, she pulled me in for a hug, which, I must say, I found slightly more embarrassing than being spanked.

Mum gave me one more firm smack, then ordered: “Get those plates laid out quickly or you’ll get another one from Mrs Davey!” (This was the lady whose garden was hosting the party. As it was, I wouldn’t have objected in the slightest if Mrs Davey had smacked my bum. I was all fired up and wanting more!

I seemed to be the centre of attention – most of the ladies and children were looking at me, and you have never seen so many smiling faces. I assume it was because I was slightly older than any of the other children playing. I couldn’t begin to guess how many smacks I received but it was a fair number. There was a slightly odd feeling coming from my bottom. It did sting, felt sort of fuzzy, didn’t actually hurt, but felt very, very nice! My thin shorts offered minimal protection but there was a slightly numb tingling that I found very pleasurable.

I was buzzing – literally! I’d had my bum smacked and wanted more. It’s weird when you get spanked, you can’t see what’s going on. I would have loved to have watched mum smack my bum. All I could see was feet, grass and the bench legs!

The arrival of food brought an end to the fun and games and a rush for the tables. As I ate, I couldn’t stop looking at the ladies, all chattering away and helping children to cut food and decide what they wanted to eat. They seemed so natural, just very normal everyday mums, but to me they were – to be blunt – sexy. I had watched several of these young mums smack several little bottoms right in front of me. It was not lost on me that they all chose to put the victims across their knee. Only the toddler who didn’t understand the rules got away with a standing play pat.

Even better, I’d been spanked too. The more I mulled it over, the more I realised I was starting to have my first real sexual feelings. At that table, that day it dawned on me, I associated spanking with mums, with sex, pleasure and fun. I also watched my own mother from the corner of my eye. I had a strange feeling that Mum had been watching me for longer than I at first realised. Perhaps she had noticed my keen interest in the smack-bottom games?

Our eyes met across the table more than once. She grinned, blew me a pretend kiss and generally teased me rotten. Mum smiled all afternoon.
For myself, I felt butterflies in my stomach for the rest of the day, desperately hoping the game might restart. I thought of nothing else but re-running that moment. Although the children did run around some more that day, there were no more spankings. It was a great day, a great party and a cherished childhood memory.

Towards the later part of the afternoon some of the men, including my dad, disappeared to talk old motorbikes in the shed. The new arrival in the street had three, and was keen to show them off. Dad asked if I wanted to stay but I chose to go home. I believe I was on the cusp of masturbating about this time, and I imagine I was keen to get home and think about the day’s events.

Mum and I started to walk home. We hadn’t got far when she put her arm around my shoulders as we walked. “That was a fun party wasn’t it?” I agreed. “And it’s been years since I smacked your bum.” She gave me a squeeze as we walked. This was news to me. I didn’t remember a single smack. In a surreal moment, I found myself in a conversation about spanking.

I told mum I didn’t remember her ever smacking me, and asked what I had got spanked for. Very casually, as if we were discussing a shopping list. Mum related that I was often a ‘little devil’ to get off to bed, trying every trick in the book to avoid bedtime. She would playfully threaten me with a smacked bum and I used to dare her to do it.

Well, this was news to me. As I say, I didn’t remember but it explained a lot – obviously, I had always had an inclination to get my bum smacked, and now I was a little older these thoughts were turning sexual.

Mum said I was two or three at the time, and she only smacked me playfully, but that was enough to get me off to bed without any fuss or tears. It became a bedtime game. She would carry me to bed after a game of ‘chase’ around the lounge. I would be washed and changed, and if I protested Mum would pop me over her knee for a few play smacks.

She told me this went on for a while, as with most children – it was just one of those phases. I wondered if this was the reason I enjoyed the thought of being spanked, or if the urge was already there anyway. We arrived home, and I didn’t get a chance to respond to her comments as our dog was jumping around, pleased to have us home.

After that day, I did try telling Mum once or twice at bedtime that I wasn’t ready yet. Looking back, it was a clumsy, feeble, attempt to provoke her into smacking my bum again. Frustratingly for me, she didn’t take the bait, which confused me. She had enjoyed smacking my bum for fun, I had enjoyed it too, so why didn’t she do it again. Over time, of course, I reached the conclusion that Mum guessed I had enjoyed it and was beginning to sexualise such matters.

Needless to say, the urge never left me – but it was a long, long time before I found a girlfriend who was willing to indulge me. I found a partner who was a little younger than me whilst on an ’18-30′ style holiday. To be honest, I thought the relationship would fizzle out once we both got back to England (and at no time did I mention spanking in any way).

However, she seemed quite keen to meet up again and so, with a somewhat red face, I brought up the subject of being spanked. To my surprise (and relief), she simply shrugged and said: “Whatever floats your boat!”

She was very casual, calm and mature about it. She asked me to explain exactly what it was I wanted her to do, and did exactly that. She sat down on a chair, pulled down my underwear (exposing a solid erection), placed me across her knees and with my cock gripped between her soft warm thighs, she gave me a very competent hand spanking. Afterwards, I performed oral sex on her as a reward for her efforts.

This set the scene for many years of wonderful spanking fun and sex. When I think back to that holiday when we met in a bar in Spain, I cannot think of a girl who looked less likely to carry out such wonderful spankings. It just goes to show, you never can tell!

While I was typing this, I had a thought. I could not imagine those women from years gone by, in their austere black dresses and hair in a tight bun, ever smacking a child’s bottom for fun. Thrashing them with a cane or strap, yes. On the flip side, I couldn’t imagine any of the ladies I saw at that party in our street ever thrashing any child with a cane or strap. They did however all seem quite happy, positively keen in some cases, to smack a bum for a bit of fun. I know that I prefer the world I grew up in – I just wish Mum had smacked me more often!

As I said at the beginning, I was a boy finding his way. Had those children not have played that daredevil game that day, I might never have been spanked at all. No doubt my urges would have emerged eventually. Luckily, it seems there are plenty of women who are quite happy to put a grown up naughty boy across their knee and smack his bottom. I should know – I found one!

Please keep up the good work at Maman.

Contributor: Alex

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