I wonder how many of you reading this site, like myself, got spanked by a friend’s mother or father? I suffered that fate on a number of occasions – just another illustration of just how commonplace and widely accepted spanking was back in the 60s and 70s.
One such incident particularly sticks in my mind. I was having a sleepover at my friend Larry’s house. The year was 1968, and I would have been nine years old at the time.
Larry and I had a great day playing games such as chess, checkers and Scrabble and reading comics. Larry’s mom Jill (who I called ‘Mrs Ford’, as of course you did back then) had cooked burgers for our tea. Afterwards we were allowed to watch some TV as we enjoyed some cookies and a milkshake, and we were sent to bed at nine o’clock.
I should say that we were warned outright to go straight to sleep, with no talking. Mrs Ford’s final words, as we made our way upstairs to be, were: “Don’t make me have to come to your bedroom with the paddle, boys!” The family’s spanking paddle was one Larry’s parents had brought from a craft fair for home discipline. It was made of maple and hung in their hallway, ready to hand whenever it was needed.
Unfortunately we didn’t really heed that warning. As moms go, Mrs Ford was quite easy-going compared with others of the time. Nevertheless, she brooked no nonsense. Twice she came up to quieten us down with a stern warning. The second lecture ended with the words: “Next time, it will be the paddle.”
Incredibly, we still didn’t heed the warnings and began talking again. It wasn’t long before Mrs Ford came into the bedroom again – and this time she had the dreaded implement in her hand.
“Right boys,” she said briskly, “out of bed, both of you! Take off your pyjama pants. Believe me, you will not be needing them tonight!”
Pretty soon she had two bare-bottomed little boys awaiting their fate. What struck me was how calm, composed and matter-of-fact Mrs Ford was about it all. She wasn’t noticeably angry at all and her voice, though firm, had not been raised.
Well, we did as we were bidden. In those days, you didn’t argue with adults. Mrs Ford sat herself down on the bed Larry and I were sharing, then addressed her son. “You first, Lawrence – let’s show your friend how it’s done in this house.” Larry obediently bent over one of his mom’s knees, then she brought down her other leg over his own to secure him in place. “You get one swat for each year of your life here in this house,” she explained to me. Lawrence, I believe that will be nine…”
She then set about administering the paddling in a very calm and methodical manner. The first two swats produced a couple of loud ‘ouches’ from my friend. The next two were more pronounced and produced audible ‘ow’s and ‘aah’s.
From that moment in, Larry simply hollered his way through the rest of his spanking, tears freely flowing. The paddle was an efficient size for children’s bottoms and after just two swats Larry’s behind was already a uniform pink. With each further swat after that, his buttocks grew redder and redder, matched by his increasingly vocal reaction. By the end, his his butt cheeks had that hot and throbbing glow that always results from a proper spanking.
Larry was told to stand in the corner, and Mrs Ford crooked a finger at me meaningfully, still stern but calm. I slowly walked forward to take my punishment, and Larry’s mother put me over her knee and secured me with a firm leg lock as she had done with her son.
To the day I die, I will never forget that first swat, as the paddle left its first burning kiss on my nine-year-old bottom! My backside soon felt like it was on fire, the heat increasing with each crack of the paddle on my hot, sore and scorched skin. I was certainly less stoical than Larry and immediately began reacting with loud, plaintive cries right from the start. From the second lick, I simply howled and sobbed my way through the rest of my spanking.
When she was done with me, Mrs Ford stood me up, we were both ordered back to bed. Unsurprisingly, we slept on our tummies that night – our bottoms bare, with not even sheets and blankets covering us. Our behinds radiated that hot, prickly heat that a sound spanking always produces.
As we lay there in the dark, Larry and I felt each other’s buttocks with our hands. I remember that Larry’s was boiling hot, and I’m sure mine felt the same, though after about an hour it began to cool down a little bit, though it was still warm to the touch. Our bottoms were still red and a little warm the following morning, though the burning throbbing had subsided.
To my immense relief, Mrs Ford didn’t tell my parents about the paddling she had administered – thus I almost certainly avoided another, even worse spanking at home.
I slept over a couple of more times at Larry’s house after that, but there was no repeat of what happened that night. And, indeed, we were a lot more mindful about not talking or messing about when we went to bed, so we learned our lesson.