When I was in my late teens, I traveled to Jamaica with my mother and younger sister to visit my aunt, who worked in the tourist industry on the island. We kids had a wonderful time down there – but one day we got into big trouble with my aunt’s son, who was about to head off to college back in the States.
One evening we got back late without an excuse, and as a result messed up plans already made by our respective mothers. Needless to say, there was the devil to pay when we got back to the house as both adults were livid – very quickly, we were informed that the result was going to be a severe blistering for all of us.
We lined up in the hallway outside my aunt’s den and my younger sister was called in first to be spanked. Behind the closed door, we could hear her pleading ‘not that way!’ and ‘please – not with that!’
After a few moments of silence came the unmistakable sound of a rapid spanking being applied to a child’s bare bottom. It sounded like either a paddle or a hairbrush was being used.
My sister pleaded, begged, cried and yelped as the smacks could be heard from our side of the door. It didn’t take long before her protests became garbled and unintelligible but the spanking continued for at least three or four minutes. Finally, the smacks stopped, but my sister’s crying continued.
Suddenly, the door opened and my sister – now naked – was pushed back out into the hallway, dancing from foot to foot and vigorously rubbing her now deep red butt and upper thighs. She was told to stand against the wall and not to move an inch. Then my mother grabbed my arm and pulled me into the den.
Once behind the closed door, my mother and aunt efficiently stripped me of all my clothes and dumped them on the floor. My mother then pulled me over to a chair and dragged me over her lap. I saw her pick up a nasty looking hairbrush and she immediately began to apply it hard and fast against my bare behind.
The first spanks were shocking – my body stiffened and I instinctively tried to put my hand back to shield my bottom – but it was quickly held away and the spanking intensified. Soon I was twisting, turning, kicking and bucking as the incredible pain spread throughout my bottom. I begged for it to stop, but that only brought laughter from the two mothers and series of harder and faster spanks.
I eventually went limp over my mother’s lap and bawled like a baby as the punishment went on and on. I’m not quite sure when it stopped but my aunt hauled me to my feet by my hair and I immediately began jumping up and down, grasping my butt as my sister had done, in a feeble attempt to lessen the pain.
The two women pushed me back out into the hallway, next to my sister who was still crying, and put me to the wall. Finally, they grabbed my cousin and hauled him into the den. He also pleaded and protested a bit, but it was clear in short order that his butt was on the receiving end of a hard hairbrush spanking that caused him to wail and cry as bad as either of us girls. Time was a blur, but it was clear to both me and my sister that his spanking was going on for much longer than ours.
Eventually the door opened again and my cousin came out naked as the day he was born, jumping up and down and with a deep red bottom that was obviously bruised.
Then we were told to stand in a line and that our final punishment was going to be a taste of the cane. My sister and I had ever been caned before but my cousin clearly had, as this announcement drew a cry of incredible distress from him.
My aunt came out with the cane, and my sister was told to bend over the back of the chair. She was also ordered to spread her legs, which naturally exposed her most intimate parts for all to see. My aunt told her she would be getting three strokes, and warned her to stay in position or the stroke would be repeated.
I watched in horror as the cane was first tapped against my little sister’s red and blistered bottom and then drawn back and swung hard against the middle of her buttocks. She immediately screamed and shook, which made her bottom tremble and her peach-sized breasts wiggle violently.
The second stroke landed lower on her bottom and her convulsions were more violent and distressing. The third stroke landed at the base of her butt, right on the most sensitive sit spot, and she screamed as loud as she could while her whole body trembled in agony.
As my sister was instructed to go and stand back next to us in the line, I noticed that my cousin had developed a swelling erection watching her being caned, and as a result had a face almost as red as his backside.
I was pushed over the chair next and it seemed like forever before the first stroke landed on my exposed butt. I thought I was going to die with the pain and felt my whole body shake, which I am sure provided a similar display to my sister’s.
The second stroke was even worse and I had to use the chair to support myself. As I briefly looked back at the other children, I noticed that my sister was still crying – but my cousin’s erection was now pointing straight up.
The third stroke landed on my sit spot and hurt so bad I could not even cry out. I trembled and had a hard time walking as my mother grabbed me and put me next to my sister.
Finally, my aunt grabbed her son and told him that his punishment would be six strokes, not three. He immediately began pleading for mercy but was ignored and made to bend over the chair, which presented the rest of us present with an obscene display of his hard-on.
The first stroke of the cane landed much lower on his bottom than us girls and he let out a howl of distress. The next stroke landed on his sit spot and he trembled and almost collapsed over the back of the chair. His erection had disappeared by this point, but his developing testicles thrashed from side to side as he shook in pain.
The third stroke seemed to land just above the second and these strokes of the cane were even harder than I and my sister had received. Deep purple welts appeared on his butt where they landed and showed clearly the points of impact.
The fourth and fifth strokes landed on top of the other marks and my mother had to steady her nephew over the chair to keep him in place. He could only babble and cry at this point, as my aunt told him to prepare for the final stroke.
This last landed on his upper thighs and he let out a howl, then slunk down on the floor holding his butt with both hands, thrashing around in pain. My aunt tapped the cane against his penis. “Not so excited any more, mister?” was all she said. Then she addressed all three of us: “Pick up your clothes, get to your rooms and stay there until you’re told otherwise!”
I found even walking to be painful and slept face down on my bed that night. The next morning, my bottom was still too sore to sit and I put on loose clothing, as anything tight would have just added to my distress.
We all stood for our meals that day, and my cousin was still standing the next day too, so severely had he been beaten. He never showed me his bottom but I do know it took about a week for the welts and bruises to disappear from me and my sister’s behinds.
We clearly learned the penalty for our errors, and thankfully I never experienced the cane again.
Contributor: Erin