I was raised in Texas and my mother always had a plastic flyswatter that she applied to my bottom from as young as I can remember, until about the age of about 11 or 12.
I always dreaded this implement, for two reasons. The first was that it wasn’t effective over pants. The first time I remember tasting this implement was when I was six. It was also the first spanking I remember from my mommy (not my first spanking, but prior to that, I was spanked by my father or stepdad).
It was right as my mom and stepdad were divorcing and I don’t remember the exact situation, but I do remember that I hadn’t come when she’d called me, even though I had heard and acknowledged her.
I still remember the look on my friends faces as I was dragged away from them, my mom half carrying me, half dragging me by my upper arm. All of them were looking nervous, probably thinking about their own spankings, and half joyful at the thought of another kid getting it.
I wasn’t sure what would happen, since my stepdad David wasn’t living with us anymore and mom had never spanked me. As we walked into the house, I expected to be sent to my room. Instead, she picked something up from the hall table and continued on, dragging me to my room. That was when I found out what she had in mind.
I wasn’t too worried at first, since she pulled me over to my bed. If I’d been in for a spanking, I would have expected her to get the folding chair that David kept behind my door. Since she went to my bed, I figured I was going to be made to take a nap.
My ideas changed rapidly when two things happened. First, when she sat down and pulled me in front of her, I saw her lay down the flyswatter that I hadn’t been able to see when she picked it up. Secondly, her hands reached up and began to undo my belt.
Now, don’t get the idea that I was shy in front of my mommy. I wasn’t, at least not at that age. After all, she had taken my temperature rectally and had given me suppositories, as well as being in the bathroom at my bathtime, so I didn’t have many secrets from her.
Still, for some reason, it seemed much different as I stood there and let her undress me. Now, I was feeling vaguely embarrassed. As soon as my belt and pants were undone, they slipped down to my ankles. With a pause just long enough for my shoes to come off, my jeans came completely off, leaving me only in my white cotton underclothes – shirt, underpants and socks.
Looking down at myself, the only colour I saw was the double black band of my Sears briefs. Even though my undershirt was barely long enough to have stayed tucked in, and didn’t cover the waistband of my briefs, Mommy still pushed it up to tuck it under my arms.
I only had a few seconds to stand there, though, before I felt Mommy’s long, dark red finger nails scratch against my thighs, then my briefs slid down to perch around my knees. Then I was lifted up and placed over her lap.
All this time, Mommy had been lecturing her naughty boy but I had been so fascinated, and horrified, as she undressed me that I hadn’t really heard what she was saying. That broke through, however, as she asked if I was ever going to not come to her again when she called me. I promised her I would, and she replied that it was time to make sure I remembered that promise.
I hadn’t see her pick up the flyswatter but I felt it smack down against my bottom and was surprised at how little it hurt. However, I was soon in for a bigger surprise. I had received, from my dad and stepdad, their hand, different paddles and once when I was very naughty, the belt. All those instruments started out hard and soon left a boy half numb, but stayed with him for a long time.
The flyswatter was totally different. I never got numb from it. The sting just continued to build and build, and soon I was crying just as hard as I ever had for my daddies.
Mommy smacked that flyswatter up and down my bottom and legs until it felt like the entire area was crawling with ants and I was crying loud and hard, almost hoarse.
Finally, she decided I’d had enough and let me up. She asked if I had learned my lesson, and I nodded ‘yes’ as I continued to cry.
She told me that her arm wasn’t tired, and she’d be glad to give me more, if I thought I needed it. This time I found enough voice to promise her that I didn’t.
She left the room, and told me, over her shoulder, that I could get dressed and come out as soon as I felt like it, and she would keep a plate warm for me.
That was the first spanking Mommy gave me but far from the last. As a matter of fact, I can’t even guess how many times she had to smack my naughty bottom over the next six or seven years.
As I got older things changed a bit, but not much. She didn’t always undress me and once I hit about 10 she stopped spanking me bare. I still had to lower or remove my pants so it didn’t make much difference to me, because mom spanked almost entirely on the legs, and it could still break me down, just like it had years before, and just like it did my younger half brother.
I only remember mom undressing me once after I’d hit 6th grade (11 years old) and that was only to pull my pants off. By the time I turned 12, I was showing signs of puberty but even after that, and on into 7th grade, I could still expect to have my pants taken down and have that flyswatter applied to my upper legs.
As a matter of fact, throughout 6th grade and through 7th, even after I turned 13, I can still remember being sent to my room to undress to my briefs and wait for mommy to come spank me – or having her take me to my room and having to lower or remove my jeans, while she watched, so she could once again spank my naughty bottom. And by that time, I was very embarrassed to have her watch me undress or see me, even in my briefs.
I was very relieved when she told me, not too long after I’d turned 13, that I was too old to spank. At least, until I realised that it just meant I’d have to wait for a session with her third husband, who was also a believer in firm discipline of boys. After that, I was thinking that maybe mom’s punishments weren’t so bad after all!