My best friend when I was a child was a girl called Naomi, and when we were both nine years old, I was invited one evening to her house to go for a sleepover.
Naomi’s mum was lovely, very hands-on and cuddly with us and giving us plenty of attention. Finally, we were sent outside to play while she prepared the evening meal. There were just three of us that night, as Naomi’s dad was away on business.
Outside, we ran around a bit until Naomi came across a couple of tennis racquets and a ball, and we began to bat this between us in a very loose interpretation of the real game.
What hadn’t occurred to me was how close we were to the house. Naomi hit the ball towards me and I whacked it back with gusto. Unfortunately Naomi missed my return stroke by a mile and the tennis ball slammed into the glass door of the porch which gave on to the back door proper. It didn’t smash, but left a crack of about 8in on the glass.
Naomi’s mum rushed out to see what had happened and turned on us with an angry face. “You naughty little girls! Naomi, how many times have I told you not to play there?” Silence. “Right, which of you hit that ball into the glass?” Reluctantly, I raised my hand. “Well, you had both better be punished, then. Go to your room this minute!”
We scampered upstairs – we didn’t speak when we got to Naomi’s room, which I was sharing for the night. We listened apprehensively at the movement downstairs, and then what appeared to be a one-sided conversation. I presume Naomi’s mum was on the phone.
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later the bedroom door opened and Naomi’s mum came in. In her right hand, she held a table tennis bat. Naomi started to cry when she saw it and I felt my stomach drop.
In one corner of Naomi’s room was a desk and table, where she did her school homework, and her mum picked it up and placed it in the centre of the room facing the bed where we both to sleep. She sat down and looked up at us. I guess my own eyes must have asked a question, because Naomi’s mum nodded at me. “Yes, Caroline, you are going to be spanked too. In fact, you might as well get done first. Come here to me.”
I stood rooted to the spot. My own mum rarely smacked my bottom and in retrospect I’m still quite surprised she agreed to me being chastised in this way. I suppose she thought I should be subject to the rules of my host.
When I didn’t immediately obey the command to come, I thought Naomi’s mum would be really angry. However, a sympathetic look softened her face. She rose briefly and took me by the hand, leading me over to the chair and saying: “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
She placed me at her right side and as I now stood there obediently her hands went up my light summer dress and she took my pants down to my knees. Then she gently guided me over her knee and I was suddenly looking at the carpet. I felt a slight chill across my bottom as my dress was lifted up at the back, but I wasn’t chilly for long.
It wasn’t a terrible beating, but it was a really thorough spanking. That table tennis paddle could have been made for smacking bottoms, easily covering my entire small bum with a deep burn every time it came down. Naomi’s mum concentrated on the middle of my bottom, most of the spanks falling dead centre across my bum crack. It hurt very much indeed, and I bellowed and sobbed harder than I ever had in my life.
Finally, I felt my pants being pulled back up (which was very sore immediately after such a punishment) and I was stood back up on my feet. Naomi’s mum opened her arms and I threw myself in for a long, long hug, crying into her soft, warm bosom for several minutes. Eventually she brought my crying under control and sat me down on the bed.
On her way back to the spanking chair she took her own daughter by the wrist. Quietened now (but with my bottom still humming from the spanking) I was now able to witness the entire ritual I had just been put through myself. Those well-practiced hands went up Naomi’s dress, claiming a pair of light yellow pants as their prize, and my friend obediently bent over her mother’s lap.
I looked at Naomi’s bare bottom with interest as her dress was hitched up at the back ready for the spanking. We had seen each other’s bodies before, including our private parts, but only ever briefly. I watched now fascinated as my friend’s creamy white bottom was quickly transformed into a blotchy red mess, and only when Naomi screamed at the first smack did I realise how noisy my own performance must have been.
I must confess to having a sort of funny feeling between my legs as I watched Naomi’s spanking, and instinctively I began to squeeze my thighs together. I had done this before in private (the closest I had come to masturbation at that age) but this was the first time I had tried it with a visual stimulus, so to speak.
Lord only knows what would have happened if I had come but fortunately for all concerned Naomi’s spanking ended some way before that could have happened, and she too got her turn at having a cry on her mother’s breast. I was struck by how loving the whole process was, despite it hurting so much.
Naomi’s mum put the chair back. “Now, I want you girls to stay here for a little while and think about what you did, and what you got for doing what you did. OK?” We nodded, eyes cast down. “I’ve kept tea on to warm and I’ll call you down to eat in a bit.”
I think we both lay on Naomi’s bed for about half an hour, comparing parents and punishments (Naomi said her dad was ‘much worse’ when it came to smacking her bottom), before we were called downstairs to eat. Then we were sent back up to have a bath (we were trusted to do this ourselves, and got plenty of chance to inspect each other’s bottom) and change into pyjamas.
Then we went back downstairs and each sat one side of Naomi’s mum on the settee. She had also changed into a nightie while we were seeing to ourselves and her left breast was soft and warm through the fabric as I rested my head on it.
Finally, bedtime was pronounced. “Let’s have a look at your bottom,” Naomi’s mum said to me gently. Even though she had seen plenty of my bare backside earlier, I still blushed a bit as I dropped my pyjama trousers to show her. Naomi’s mum gave me a gentle smack with her hand and I giggled. “You’ll live,” she pronounced.
“Naomi, let mummy see your bottom sweetheart.” Naomi gave us a quick flash and also got a playful smack for her trouble. “And you’ve definitely had worse, especially off your dad. Right, bed right away. No chat, or me and Mr Paddle may be back!” Certainly, neither of us wanted that, and we both slept as soundly as only spanked children can that night.
When I got home the following day, to my surprise my own Mum demanded me to drop my knickers and show her my bottom too. I was still a bit pink but otherwise unharmed. For one dreadful moment I thought I was going to get a tanning from Mum too but all she said was: “I bet that taught you a lesson. I sometimes think I’m too easy on you, my girl!” Then I was dismissed to go and play in my bedroom.
What stays with me about this incident, as I say, was how firmly, but also calmly and lovingly, both of our spankings were administered by that lovely, maternal lady.
Contributor: Caroline