When I was growing up, mom seldom spanked me. It’s possible she did when I was younger but by the time I was eight or so, dad gave us most of our spankings.
Mom’s role was usually just to send me or my brother or both of us to our room to wait for dad. Dad seemed particularly apt to spank if my brother and I misbehaved together – either that or we just helped each other into even deeper trouble.
He’d send us to our room (or mom would have done so earlier). Then dad would come in, sit in a chair and question us about what we’d done. If he deemed it merited a spanking, he’d send one of us for the paddle he kept on top of his dresser in his walk-in closet. It’s strange he didn’t bring it with him, since he almost always deemed that a spanking was in order.
Usually, as the older one, my brother Steve got spanked first and I had to get the paddle. I always felt a little like a traitor to my brother when dad told him to take down his pants and me to get the paddle, even though I knew it would be used on me as well.
When I got back to our room, Steve would already be over dad’s knee with his trousers and underpants pulled down. I’d give dad the paddle and then sit on my bed. The spanking would begin, and pretty soon Steve would start crying and I would get tearful contemplating my ordeal to come, even before the first spank had landed on my bottom.
Just as he finished with my brother, dad would tell me to take down my pants and get ready. Then he would give Steve his last swats, send him to stand in the corner and it would be my turn across the knee. When Dad finished with me, I’d end up in the corner by my bed. He’d leave the two of us bare-bottomed in our room to think about what we’d done.
I think my worst experience like this was one time when I was about 10 and Dad had a broken finger. He couldn’t hold the paddle in his right hand so he tried to spank Steve with his left hand. He decided this wouldn’t work, so he called in our mom.
As I said, Mom almost never spanked us, but this time she did. Steve got transferred to mom’s lap and got his spanking.
I remember being embarrassed to think that Mom was going to see me bare from the waist down. I don’t know how Steve felt but he hadn’t had any time to think about it, since he already had his pants down by the time mom came in. When dad told me to take my pants down and get ready, I didn’t.
When Steve’s spanking was finished, Dad looked at me and said: “I told you to take your pants down.” I pleaded: “Can’t you spank me, Dad?” He responded by coming over and pulling my pants down himself – his broken finger was no hindrance there.
Then he picked me up and dropped me on mom’s lap. Mom paddled me and as I recall, it wasn’t as bad as one of Dad’s spankings – but Dad was standing right there watching and told her to keep at it, because I hadn’t felt it yet.
I can promise you that I had. By the end of what was probably twice the usual spanking, I was really crying – and I’d learned that moms could spank too.
Contributor: Rob