Like daughter, like mum

I was raised in a strict, loving and male-dominated family. My father was most definitely the head of our household and corporal punishment was the most common form of discipline not only for us children when we misbehaved but also for our mother. Bare bottom spankings were common and always included time spent standing in the corner with panties down and red bottom on display.

It may seem strange to some readers that my mum was also disciplined like a naughty child. However, in our religious tradition this is not unusual and is in fact expected. It was not a secret that Mum was spanked but it was never done in front of the children. She would be sent to their bedroom and myself and my sister often heard my father quietly verbally chastising her before hearing the very familiar sounds of his hand, wooden spoon or hairbrush smacking her bare bottom hard. 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I am now also in a marriage where domestic discipline is the norm. Our children were spanked by their father on a regular basis and I am still accountable to my husband and submit to his discipline happily. 

One spanking that involved both my teenage daughter and I both being punished comes to mind. We had been at a church event together as a family and when we got home my daughter and I were speaking unkindly about the pastor’s wife. I’m embarrassed to reveal too much about the conversation but suffice to say that it was deeply uncharitable and referenced her tendency to talk loudly in a distinctive, somewhat nasal tone.

Unfortunately for us both, my husband overheard us talking and was very annoyed that my daughter would speak in such a nasty way and even more so that it was encouraged by me!

When we got home, he scolded our daughter harshly, took her by the arm and pulled down her jeans and panties. I remember it so vividly because I really felt responsible for allowing the conversation to happen and hence her being punished.

Then my husband sat down on a dining room chair and put our daughter over his knee. He spanked her bare bottom hard over and over again until she was crying and begging him to stop. But we both knew that Papa only stopped a spanking once he felt it was over. After about a full minute of hard discipline, the crying girl was put in the corner to think about her behaviour. After 20 minutes with smacked bottom on display, she was hugged and sent to her room for the rest of the evening. 

I had watched the proceedings with a sinking feeling in my stomach, for two reasons. Firstly, I felt badly for my teenage daughter, and secondly because I knew I had a similar punishment coming. 

Once our daughter was safely in her room, my husband turned to me and told me to get the wooden spoon. I fetched it from the dresser drawer and handed it to him with a trembling hand. He told me to lower my panties and then turned me over his knee.

He lifted my dress and started spanking my bare bottom methodically and hard. That wooden spoon stings so much and I find it so hard to take every time he uses it. He smacked each cheek over and over until honestly I couldn’t even catch my breath. I was trying desperately not to cry out because I didn’t want my daughter hearing me being disciplined – but I couldn’t help myself. When he was finished I was sent to the corner for 20 minutes, just like my daughter had been, smacked bottom on show.

When I was finally called out of the corner, my husband turned to me and told me that I now had two options – either I could write a letter of apology to the pastor’s wife or I would get ten hard spanks of the hairbrush on the back of my thighs. He knew I absolutely hate having my legs spanked because it hurts so much more than my bottom. Of course I really had no choice, because I couldn’t suffer the humiliation of admitting my childish behaviour to the pastor’s wife, and I also didn’t wish to hurt her feelings. 

I reluctantly handed him the hairbrush, he bent me over the kitchen counter and spanked the tender parts of my upper thighs hard. When I squirmed and didn’t hold position I would get a hard smack on the inner thigh, which hurt unbearably.

Once he finished, I too was sent to bed early like a naughty little girl. That night, my darling husband curled in behind me and rubbed my still sore bottom until I fell asleep in his arms. Don’t get me wrong – I really hate being spanked, but I do so love being in a relationship with good values and where boundaries crossed have serious consequences. 

Contributor: Kate

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