I wanted to tell you about another memorable occasion when my sister Emma and I received soundly smacked bottoms from our mother.
I would have been eight, and Emma 12 or 13, when as a family we went on holiday to a self-catering complex in Spain – a number of apartments arranged around a central, shared pool.
One morning, as we got ready to go down to the pool, Emma and I got into a heated argument over who had forgotten to hang up a wet beach towel. Mum warned us twice to stop arguing and behave, the second occasion accompanied by a warning that she would ‘end the argument’ if we didn’t.
This seemed to have the desired effect and calmed us down, but then Emma tried to grab the only dry towel out of my hands and the argument started again.
This time, Mum pulled us apart exclaiming: “I’ve had just about enough of you two already this morning. This bad behaviour is going to stop now – you’re both going over my knee before we do anything else today!”
We were already dressed for the pool – dad and myself in Speedos, Emma in a bikini and mum in a one-piece swimming costume. Dad suggested he went ahead to bag some sun beds by the pool while Mum dealt with us. Mum agreed and Dad left as Emma and I stopped arguing and started to desperately plead our case for avoiding a smacked bottom.
It did no good of course – once Mum had promised a punishment, she always followed through. She brought a patio chair in from the balcony and placed it in the middle of the living room, leaving the door open. My pleading became more frantic as Mum grabbed me and sat down on the chair – Emma had already started to cry.
As usual, as the youngest, whenever we were punished together I went first. Mum positioned me next to her and my swimming trunks were unceremoniously yanked down to my knees. Then I was positioned over my mother’s knee, with my pale bare bottom raised.
Well, my bum didn’t stay pale for long! Mum started to smack it hard with a steady rhythm, each slap accompanied by a loud squeal from me and soon enough the tears also started to flow. Nevertheless, Mum continued to smack, all the while scolding me about what a naughty little boy I had been.
At this point Emma, who had been quietly crying while watching my unfolding punishment, interrupted to tell Mum she was desperate for a wee. Mum paused my spanking for a moment and looked sternly at her daughter.
“Well, I haven’t got all day, Emma,” she retorted. “Can’t your wee wait until I’ve smacked your bottom?” Emma shook her head. “Well, you’d better go the toilet then and be quick! And don’t think you’re getting out of a spanking, young lady!” As Emma went into the bathroom, Mum called after her: “And leave your bikini pants down after you’ve done your wee – you won’t be needing those for the next few minutes.
Emma scuttled off to the bathroom to relieve herself – meanwhile, Mum resumed giving me my own smacked bottom, slaps getting into a steady rhythm as my squeals slowly became a constant, tearful howl.
As usual, Mum finished me off with six, slow, extra-hard smacks. Emma rejoined us at that moment, her face still a mess of tears and her bikini bottoms in her hand. Despite my own wet face, I couldn’t help noticing the triangle of pubic hair developing between my sister’s legs, to accompany her budding breasts.
Still sobbing, I was finally released by Mum and as I began the ‘spanky dance’ familiar to all naughty children, clutching my hot and very sore bottom, Emma took my place over the maternal laps. The next few minutes followed a familiar pattern as Mum punished Emma, giving her a soundly smacked bottom accompanied by squeals, sobbing and promises to be a good girl.
Emma received her last six extra hard smacks, howling as her bright red backside took further punishment. Then it was over and – still crying – we were both instructed: “Pull your pants back up and stop being such big babies!”
Mum went to the toilet herself, giving us both a minute to compose ourselves and cover our bottoms, before marching us both out of the apartment and straight down to the pool. We both had red faces and eyes, and Emma was still crying from the more recent smacking.
As we went down to the pool in the lift, I caught a glimpse of us both in the mirror there. The edges of our glowing red bottoms were visible around the seats of our swimwear, and it was obvious to everyone at the pool this morning that we had both been very naughty children and had both just been given a good smacked bottom.
Needless to say, our behaviour was perfect for the rest of the day!
Contributor: Julian