When I was eight and my sister Cristina was 10, our mother took us out to the shops one day to buy clothes ready for us starting back to school.
Neither my sister nor myself were particularly enamoured with this idea – we would have much preferred to be out with our friends playing rather than being dragged wearily from store to store.
We began to moan about the shopping expedition pretty much as soon as it had began. Mother warned us: “Be quiet, both of you, or I will warm your bottoms!” This was said in front of a shop full of people, which was very embarrassing for us, especially with a lot of other adults nodding approvingly at the warning.
Nevertheless, we didn’t read the danger signals and continued to complain. Finally, Mother cracked and snapped: “That’s it! Your pants are coming down when we get home, both of you!”
Well, we tried being good, and on the rather silent and tearful way home, we even begged for forgiveness. But Mother gave us her usual reply to such pleas: “You’ll be forgiven after I’ve smacked your bottoms, and not before!”
When we got home, Mother sat on a kitchen chair and called me over to her. “No, Mom, please!” I begged. Mother merely pointed at my skirt. Now in tears, I nevertheless hitched up my skirt and obediently pulled down my panties. Mother grabbed hold of my left wrist and put me in the nursery punishment position, across her knee.
She then proceeded to smack my bottom hard, covering every inch of my bare buttocks, until I had a bright red behind. Then I had to watch through a smear of tears as my sister took down her own pants and got exactly the same treatment.
After our spankings, we were sent to bed in disgrace, and almost every time we got dressed for school that following term, I couldn’t help but think of the sore bottom which had accompanied the acquisition of those clothes.
Contributor: Laura