My first time with Mom

Despite the title, I suspect I may have had an informal slap or two on the hand or leg from my mom before this event – but this is the story of my first proper spanking.

I come from a large LDS family in Utah. At the time of this story (late 80s), I was the second youngest of six children from 13 to two years old. I was four and a bit at the time. My baby sister Ellen was born maybe about a year after this event.

Being from a conservative background, it won’t be a surprise to learn that my parents believed wholeheartedly in corporal punishment as a means of discipline. It was mostly administered by Mom as Dad worked away a great deal for his job.

Spankings were always given in private, in Mom and Dad’s room. So I never witnessed these punishments, but of course we heard the smacks and the crying and yelling which inevitably followed. I also knew from conversations with my elder siblings that Mom had a paddle which she used to administer the spankings.

I’m a little unclear to this day about the events leading up to my first time in Mom’s bedroom, but I remember I was roughhousing with my elder sister (who would be seven, I think), things got out of hand somewhat and I answered back when Mom told us to stop. 

I felt Mom pick me up and I was slung over her shoulder – I remember her tight grip around my bare thighs, as it was summer and I was in shorts. 

Suddenly, I realised I was being taken to her room and began to cry and protest. As I say, I had never witnessed what went on in there with naughty kids, but I had a very good idea! 

Mom just ignored me and took me into her room, locking the door behind us as she did so. She put me down on the floor, and I remember crying and screaming. 

Then she went to her bedside table, opened the drawer and produced the paddle. It wasn’t huge, about the size of a hairbrush I guess and a similar, oval shape. 

I don’t mind telling you, I freaked when I saw this instrument of correction. So much so that Mom put it down on the table for a moment and drew me to her in an attempt to calm me down. My response was to put my face in her bosom, dissolve into even more tears and snot and beg not to be spanked.

Mom was very patient and kind with me. She let me cry out my fear entirely, while making it clear that the spanking was going to happen, whatever I said or did. She got out her Bible and read from Proverbs about training and disciplining children, and explained why the spanking she was about to give me was important.

Finally, it seemed I had calmed down enough for her. “Are you ready?” she asked. Legs shaking, I managed a nod. 

“Come and stand here on this side.” Mom pointed to the right of her lap as she sat on the bed. When I obeyed, she quickly and calmly unbuttoned my shorts, and lowered them to my ankles, followed quickly by my underpants. She did this with the swiftness and practiced hand of an executioner, having given so many spankings before this one.

Before I knew it, I was face down over her knee and I felt her strong left arm curl around my waist, holding me tight beyond any escape. 

There was a brief pause as she hitched up the back of my T-shirt to expose the target, then whap! My entire back end flooded with stinging as the paddle came into contact with most of my small bottom for the first time.

The next few seconds seemed like hours as I screamed blue murder. Mom paddled me steadily and efficiently, each spank a hundred times worse than the last as my bottom became sorer and sorer. 

I don’t know how many I got, but I suspect it was fewer than a dozen in reality. Mom stood me back up and hugged me right as I was, bare bottom and all, as I cried it out into her breasts again. 

When I was back under control enough to just be gently sobbing, Mom made me go to the dressing table mirror and look at my bottom. I gazed over my shoulder in horror at the bright red bum reflected back at me. “That’s what a naughty boy’s bottom looks like,” Mom said. “I want you to remember that sight. All right?” I nodded unhappily.

“Come back here to me.” I waddled back over, still sniffling and crying a bit, and Mom put my clothes back in place. Then she read me the passages from Proverbs again, then we had a little prayer time and I had to say sorry to both Mom and God.

After that, I was taken back to the lounge, somewhat shame-faced as I knew full well the rest of the family would know what had happened to me. To my surprise, my elder sister came up to me and hugged me, telling me that she was sorry I got spanked and she forgave me. 

We went back to playing happily, albeit with a rather warm behind in my case, and family life continued.

Contributor: Ethan

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