My Spankings

Disclaimer: I of course oppose and would never encourage the corporal punishment of children. Feel free to leave a comment if you enjoy the post!
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This started out as a response to a comment on another blog of mine. A visitor kindly left a comment describing an experience that a friend of his had had. His friend had gotten caught going out with a girl that he had been forbidden to see. (Yeah, like that sort of prohibition usually works out well …. ) Anyway, his friend was given the choice of being grounded for a month, or getting the belt every day for two weeks. The visitor said this in all caps, but I’ll just put it in italics: He chose the belt!

I believe this story, because it’s about a friend of his. Usually when people are just making stuff up because it gets them off (wildly exaggerated spanking stories etc.) it’s in the first person, that is, it’s about themselves. And it turns them on because it’s about themselves. This one was about an anonymous friend — the visitor didn’t even mention the friend’s name. So I’m more inclined to accept it as fact than not, since I don’t see why anyone would make up something like that. Also, the story was not the main point of his comment — he commented nicely on the blog post that he was responding to, and then the story then came up as an aside.

So if we’re accepting this story as true (which I am), then there’s this kid who got the belt every day for two weeks for dating the wrong girl. Ouchy. I bet he had trouble sitting down for those two weeks, and probably a while after.

I think that the worst I ever got was one day, when I was probably like fourteen or fifteen, I got spanked over the knee with my mom’s hand and a little wooden paddle, and then ended up getting the belt that evening for a different offense. How it all started was simple enough — I had made the mistake of talking back to mom, which was something that usually resulted in a spanking. And as soon as I had said whatever it was that I had said, my mom grabbed me by the arm and dragged me over to the couch, while my knees went weak and I got a knot in my throat, knowing what was coming. She sat down on the edge of the couch, pulled me over her knee, lifted my skirt, and started smacking my bottom, protected only by my thin panties. In the position I was in, over her knee, I always felt my panties tighten against my butt. Mom’s spankings were hard — talking back was usually about the only offense that would just get you her hand, but that was bad enough — but for some reason, maybe because I was going into high school and felt like I was too old to be over her knee getting spanked, I decided to smart off to her while she was spanking me. I started saying things like, “That doesn’t even hurt” and “What are you trying to do, tickle me?” and pretending to laugh while she spanked my butt. After a little bit of this (and the increasingly hard smacks that it brought), she grabbed me by my hair, in the back of my head, and pulled me up onto my feet really fast. My head snapped back so I was almost facing the ceiling for a moment; the back of my head smarted from where she’d yanked.

“Go get the paddle.”

Her voice was so stern and commanding that I didn’t think twice about my response. “Yes, ma’am.” And I turned and went to get the paddle.

My mom had a little wooden paddle, shaped like a hand, and about the same size, that burned like hell. My bottom was already tingling. My stomach was totally knotted up and my knees were weak as I walked into the kitchen to get the paddle. I took it off the shelf, probably trembling, and went back into the living room, where mom was still sitting on the couch. I handed it to her, staring down at my bare toes. I never could look when I handed her the paddle.

Mom grabbed my chin and pulled my head up so that I was facing her. Then she pointed at her knee, glaring at me.

I bent over, lay across her lap, felt the blood rush to my head as I lowered my upper body, my face looking at the green carpet. She lifted my skirt. She took my panties by either side and slid them down, exposing my bare bottom, still smarting from the last spanking. She gave me two or three very light taps on the bottom with the paddle. Then the spanking started.

She absolutely wailed on my ass with that thing. Any time we got the paddle, we knew that mom was gonna whip on our butts with it, and that’s exactly what she did. I was yelling that I was sorry after the fourth or fifth swat, and crying and begging for her to stop just a few swats after that. I mean really crying and yelling like a little girl — the pain was awful after just a few swats, and my poor bottom probably got twenty. It was definitely longer than most of the paddlings I’d gotten. And I’m talking about really hard swats — mom swung that paddle like she was trying to chop freaking wood or something. Ouchy. I know that I was barefoot because I can remember my bare feet kicking hard against the carpeted floor — but, then, those of you that know me know that I’m almost always barefoot anyway.

After the spanking, I was sent to stand in a far corner of the living room. Standing in the corner was pretty common following a spanking in our house. (Might have something to do with why I like corner time as part of spanking play today — it just feels like an important part of the punishment for me. What a weird thing for my mom to have wired into my head.) Once in a while, we’d have to stand in the corner with our hands on our head (this was the usual punishment for slamming doors, if I remember correctly). That day, I felt like I had to stand in the corner forever. My bottom felt like it was on fire, and my face was stained with tears.

I was eventually allowed out of the corner, and sent to my room until dinner. My sister had been out of the house all day and didn’t know about my punishment; I didn’t see her all afternoon until I came into the kitchen for dinner. I clearly remember having to sit down very carefully in the wooden chair, which made my sister laugh nervously and ask, kind of jokingly, if somebody had gotten a spanking. I just glared at her, which I guess answered her question, now that I think about it.

I was angry about getting spanked and just generally upset and still suffering from the nerve strain of the spanking. I didn’t feel like eating and what little bits of food I tried to eat felt like they took forever to chew. I was shifting around in my chair and kind of tapping my legs against its hard wooden surface, my bottom still firey and tingly and sore, and only my panties and a thin summer skirt between my spanked bottom and the chair. I was a pretty unhappy girl.

My mom asked me something (I don’t remember what). I kind of grunted a response, which didn’t make her happy. My sister raised an eyebrow, and said, “Shouldn’t you …. ” but trailed off and didn’t finish what she was saying. I glared at her. I thought that mom wasn’t looking and flicked a piece of food in her direction. Mom saw.

I was over her knee so fast I didn’t know what was happening. She had my skirt up and my panties down in an instant, and gave me five hard smacks on my already-smarting bare bottom. Then she sent me back to my room. I bit my lip and guessed what was coming.

I was right. Some time after dinner was finished and the dishes cleaned up, my mom came into my room. I was curled up in a ball on my bed, having changed into sweatpants and a tank top for bed. (When I changed, I had looked in the mirror at my bare bottom to see how it looked. It was firey red.) Mom had the belt in her hand. My stomach, already in knots, turned over inside of me.

She pointed at the side of the bed and said, very, very slowly, and kind of through her teeth, that I needed to learn how to behave and a bunch of other stuff that I didn’t catch because I wasn’t really paying any attention to what she had to say. I was just looking at the belt. My eyes were probably huge.

When we got the belt, mom made sure there was nothing protecting our bottoms and legs. We’d have red marks on our legs for days (I can remember having to wear jeans and long skirts in the summer). My bottom was already red and smarting, and I was terrified of another spanking, but, at the same time, had been expecting it, and new better than to try to beg and plead my way out of the punishment. I bent over the bed, put my arms in front of me, and felt the sweatpants tighten against my butt. I felt my mom’s hands grab either side of the sweatpants’ waistband, and in a second she had pulled them down to my ankles, covering my feet and leaving my poor spanked bare bottom and my bare legs totally exposed.

I probably got a dozen swats. It hurt. Before the first smack, I was squinting my eyes closed and biting my lips, determined to try to remain stoic throughout the punishment. My mom made a *snap* noise with the belt (the noise that always made my knees dissolve that I still hear in my head today when I do something “bad”) and I quivered, but I bit down harder on my lip and tried to hold still. But the moment the first swat of the belt hit my stinging bare bottom, I jumped and yelped. I was bawling like a little girl and kicking my feet after the third or fourth. I cried and pleaded and yelled and balled my hands into tight fists and screamed through my teeth about how sorry I was. I’m sure my sister heard the whole thing but I didn’t care; I just wanted the pain to stop coming. Crack after crack hit my bare legs and my sore, throbbing bottom, and I jumped and yelled and begged with every crack. My mom told me to “stick it out”. That made me gulp, hard, because it made me think of overhearing my sister getting spanked, and my mom telling her the same thing, and that made me realize that my sister was hearing everything that was going on, that wherever in the house she was, she was hearing me getting spanked and begging and pleading like a little girl. But it was way too late to try biting my lip.

The moment the next *crack* hit the back of my thighs, I was bawling and screaming again. My embarrassment, for the moment, was gone, and I was pleading for the spanking to stop and yelling about how bad it hurts and how sorry I was. The burning pain and the continuing swats on my legs and my bottom was I N C R E D I B L E.

When the spanking was over, my mom hugged me, but told me to go to bed (it was maybe 7:30 or 8:00 at the latest), and left the room. I stepped out of my sweatpants, not wanting to pull them up over my punished legs and my poor, throbbing bottom. I curled back up in a ball on my bed and cried, and the humiliation of my sister definitely having overheard the whole thing sank in. I always overheard it when my sister got spanked.

Anyway, that was probably my worst spanking(s) — three spankings in one day, hand, paddle, and belt. Just an awful day for me. I was not a happy girl.

Standard Disclaimer: I of course am opposed to and would never encourage the corporal punishment of children. Comments are always welcome if you enjoy the post!
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Paddles have always fascinated me, for as long back as I can remember. The idea of owning an object whose only purpose is spanking. I love getting paddled today, but wooden paddles are seriously some of the most painful toys that we have.

Sierra Salem said something similar on her blog a long time ago — the love/hate relationship between the idea of getting paddled and the incredible pain of an actual paddling. I’d take this a step further and say that, while the experience of getting paddled can be absolutely excruciating, and have me begging for the punishment to stop, the feeling afterwards, with my bottom on fire and Self totally spanked and punished and put in my place is so totally worth it.

So back to paddles. Like I said, even as a kid, I was fascinated by these objects that existed just for spanking. Our mom had a smallish wooden paddle, shaped like a hand. At least some of my friends’ parents had paddles. I had a close friend, a girl named Jamie, whose parents kept a long (like school or frat size) wooden paddle with a prayer painted on it hanging on the wall in their hallway. I know that they used it, too; Jamie talked about having to go get the paddle for her mom to spank her with. And I actually saw it happen once.

I had spent the night before with Jamie, at her house. In the morning, her mom found that Jamie had left her dirty laundry on the bathroom floor. This had apparently been a continuing problem, as Jamie was sent to get the paddle, told to bend over, and given six or seven knee-weekening swats on the seat of her pajama bottoms, right there in front of me. Each swat was so loud it sounded like a firecracker going off. I don’t think that it was a terrible flogging or anything, but it was definitely enough to make Jamie wince and yell with each swat. Then mom instructed her to put up her laundry correctly, and left the room.

Jamie had tears running down her face, but wasn’t sobbing or anything, although her face was bright red. She rubbed her bottom. “Ow. That really hurt.”

She told me several years later that her mom never cared if there were other people around when she got spanked. I feel like that was fairly common in our community. Aside from my mom, I got spanked by the babysitter, teachers, the girls’ gym coach, friends’ moms. It was just normal. I knew a girl who told me that she used to get spanked in church. She said that it was fairly common at her church (Jehovah’s Witness, FWIW) for parents to take their kids to the restroom for a spanking. She said that it was especially humiliating because everyone in the church knew what you were being taken to the restroom for and exactly what was going to happen to you there.

It’s funny; when I was a kid, I absolutely hated the humiliation of getting spanked in front of friends. Now, years later, here I am going out of my way to try to get spanked in front of friends whenever I can. Interesting how things come around. :)

Disclaimer: I of course oppose and would never encourage the corporal punishment of children. Feel free to leave a comment if you enjoy the post!
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Hairbrushes *sting*. I can remember once getting spanked with a hairbrush as a kid, but I remember my sister getting it a few times. When we were younger, my mom had a little wooden paddle shaped like a hand that she used to *whip* on our butts with. Something happened to it, I guess, because mom started spanking us with a hairbrush for a while before she moved on to other things (mostly the belt… *shiver*).

When my sister would get the hairbrush, I could hear every swat clearly, like a gunshot, along with my sister’s yells, even though I’d be at the other end of the house. At the moment that I realized that Ellen was going to be getting a spanking, my stomach would knot up, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than her getting spanked, until I’d see my mom come back out and know that it was over. Of course, I guess that I mentioned that we got spanked together when we’d both get in trouble (we are twins, so it happened pretty frequently, *blushes*). But when it was just her, it was a totally different experience, something that took my whole attention. When we were both getting spanked, there was the whole sense of terror and anger and humiliation. When it was just my sister, the experience was like being totally focused on what was happening to her, hearing her across the house getting her punishment, yelling, sobbing. I’d totally jump and wince when I heard each swat. Crazy.

When we started getting the belt, hearing Ellen’s spankings *really* got my attention and had my stomach in knots. Yow. I can remember a few times, she got spanked right after we got home from school, and I wouldn’t be able to eat anything at dinner, a few hours later.

We had a babysitter who would spank us with her flip flops. I’ll write more about her later. If she was going to spank one of us, it usually meant that we were both getting spanked. I think that spanking was 100% of what she knew about how to keep kids under control.

There were a few times that I saw friends or other kids get spanked growing up. There were a few times when I got to be the kid they saw getting spanked. LOL. Kinda cute now that I think about it. *blushes*

One time that’s always stuck out in my mind, I was at my friend Molly’s house, we were both about 12 or 13, and we were watching TV, along with her older brother, who was like 15 at the time. Her mom said something to her, and she responded by talking back to her (I don’t remember the conversation). Her mom turned around, left the room, and came back a few seconds later holding a flat wooden spatula. Molly stared up at her (and her eyes were *huge*), but without saying anything, stood up, turned around, bent over, and touched her toes. Molly’s mom smacked her butt with it about a dozen times, hard. It wasn’t a horrible beating at all, but still more than enough to make her wince and sob; I can still remember how the loud, hard smacks sounded). Still without saying anything, her mom left the room, and Molly stood up and rubbed her bottom. I was mostly struck by how formal and unspoken everything about it was, and how they did it right in front of me and her brother without a thought.

Some friends of mine and I were over at a boy in the neighborhood’s house when he got spanked one time. We were probably all about twelve His mom dragged him into her room–with him protesting, “No, you’re gonna spank me”, and already crying–shut and locked the door, and spanked the *hell* out of him (with a hairbrush, as we later found out). We could hear the entire thing going on a few doors down the hall, with him howling (and I mean, really howling) and loud swats that seemed to go on forever. I was absolutely fascinated by the whole thing. There was another girl I was there with, and her brother and the boy’s brother, so like four other kids just a few doors down all listening to him get spanked. We all talked about it for a while afterwards.

I got spanked with a paddle by a friend’s mom one time! My friend Brittany and I both got caught stealing makeup from a store and got spanked by her mom, with a ping pong paddle. Brittany had to bend over and get spanked. I was *so* nervous and jumpy watching her get punished. That thing hurt *bad*, too–I think I’ve mentioned that I got paddled at school in Arkansas several times, but this was way harder, and more swats, maybe like eight. I think that Brittany got more than I did.

I almost forgot–the one time that I got spanked with a hairbrush. My sister and I were in the backseat of the car, and my mom saw me spit on her. She said that she was going to spank me as soon as we got home, which of course was all that I could think about for the rest of the ride home. When we got home, we went into the house, through the living room, where mom told both of us to wait for her. She went back to her room, and came back in with the hairbrush in her hand. My mom took me by the arm, sat down on the couch, and put me over her knee. She pulled down my shorts and panties (in front of my sister, no less–my mom normally didn’t do that unless we were both getting spanked), and gave me an incredibly painful spanking with that damn thing. It stung *soooo* bad!

Disclaimer: I of course oppose and would never encourage the corporal punishment of children. Feel free to leave a comment if you enjoy the post!
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When my sister and I were both about fourteen (I’ll mention that we are twins, in case you don’t already know that), the summer before our senior year of high school, we spent about six weeks with my uncle and our cousins, Neil and Courtney. Courtney was the same age as us, about fourteen, and Neil was maybe a year older.

Neil and Courtney both had red hair and freckles, and they both went barefoot all summer–something that my sister Ellen and I loved; we were barefoot for pretty much the whole six weeks that we were there. I think the only time that we wore shoes was for church, and we only put them on in the car on the way there, and took them back off immediately afterwards. (If you haven’t picked up on it yet, I hate shoes, and especially when I was younger I would go barefoot whenever possible, although I guess that I still do.)

Ellen and I definitely knew that our cousins got paddled, because they talked about it. They would mention having gotten paddled for something or another, or they would talk about how they were probably going to get spanked for something. We saw the paddle every time we were at their house, too; their uncle kept it hanging on the wall in the hallway, near their bedrooms. It was wooden; long, like a school or Greek paddle, and freaking mean looking. It hung on a short strap from a nail on the wall, and it had its own name painted on it–”The Equalizer” (*shudder* –just thinking about those words make my knees weak, even now.) Courtney told me that their dad–our uncle–would say things like, “Don’t make me get The Equalizer out.” *shudder*

So there was an incident where Neil got caught messing with our uncle’s gun cabinet. Courtney, Ellen, and I were all in the room at the time, but Neil was the only one who was actually messing with it. But that wasn’t how it looked to my uncle, so the four of us all ended up getting punished. It was very sudden, and he was very calm about it, like creepy-calm, like, “Neil, you go get The Equalizer and wait for me in your room; Courtney, Amy, Ellen, you girls go to Courney’s room and wait.”

My knees got weak and I suddenly felt like I had to pee. My stomach was instantly in a knot. We knew, without any question, from everything that our cousins had told us, that we were gonna have trouble sitting down for a while. I felt sick and, more than anything else, angry about the situation, since my sister and Courtney and I hadn’t even done anything.

Neil got up, his face red and blushing with shame. He was barefoot, of course, in ripped jeans and a brown t-shirt. He shuffled out of the room staring at the floor.

Courtney got up next, followed by my sister and I. Courtney was barefoot, wearing short jeans and a tank top. Her red hair hung down around her freckled face, also blushing like her brother. I had on oversized, heavily ripped and torn jeans, and a black t-shirt, and was barefoot, as was my sister, Ellen, in white shorts and a light green tank top. The three of us walked silently to Courtney’s room. I felt like I was floating down the hall, totally afraid. Even though I’d been spanked lots of times at home, the idea of getting paddled with The Equalizer totally scared me, and I was angry about the whole thing.

As we passed its spot on the wall in the hallway, we noticed the absense of The Equalizer. The nail that it usually hung from was the only indication of it normally occupying that spot. Growing up, paddles like that scared the hell out of me. Going to school in Arkansas, I’d had the acquaintance of a few of them. Just the idea of an object whose only purpose was spanking, designed and built to be as painful as possible when smacking my ass. I’d be shaking like a leaf when I had to empty out my back pockets and bend over for the paddle at school. Even though I usually only got like three swats, they still stung bad, enough to bring tears to my eyes, and made sitting down an uncomfortable experience for the rest of the day. (I remember shifting around in my seat a lot; another girl noticed me doing this one time and joked about how I’d “gotten spanked” earlier that day.) Paddles really scared me then, and they still make my knees weak now (although in a good way).

In Courtney’s room, Courtney and Ellen both sat down on Courtney’s bed. I stood next to it. We exchanged nervous looks, silently. We could hear our uncle lecturing Neil as he closed the door to his room. It turned out not to really matter that he had, though. Less than a minute after the door had shut, we heard the first hard *smack* from his room. A second *smack* was accompanied by a yelp from Neil. There was another, and another–about a dozen hard swats, by the end of which Neil was yelling in pain. Then silence.

Several minutes later, the door to Neil’s room opened, and our uncle stepped out, leaving the door open behind him. He crossed the hall and entered Courtney’s room, where the three of us were waiting. He was holding The Equalizer.

“Courtney, you know what you’ve done. All three of you do. You need to learn respect, and I’m gonna teach you all a lesson about it right now. Courtney, we’re gonna start with you. You know what to do.”

Courney got up from the bed. She looked like she was about to cry. Our uncle walked up to her and hugged her, the paddle still in his hand. He let go of her, and she turned, towards the bed, and bent over it, placing her hands in front of her. Her denim shorts tightened against her bottom as she did.

Our uncle stepped back, and placed both hands on the handle of The Equalizer. He held the paddle back and swung, hitting her bottom with a stinging *smack* and making her immediately yell. I could see her face wince from where I was standing, and my knees weakened (not in a good way).

She took *smack* after stinging *smack* across her bottom, to the point where tears were streaming down her face. Probably ten or twelve hard swats. Just before the last swat, he said, “Last one,” and after receiving it, she stood up, sobbing, and immediately rubbed her stinging bottom with both hands. He pointed at the corner and told her to stand there, which she did, rubbing her bottom.

“Now, Amy, it’s your turn to learn some respect. Bend over the bed like you saw your cousin do. You’re gonna get what’s coming to you.”

My knees got week, and I started shaking hard. I was totally humiliated by the idea of getting spanked with my cousin and my sister right there. I wanted to protest, to yell that I hadn’t done anything, but I bent over the bed, silently.

“Here we go.” I still remember those words. I actually heard the paddle swing through the air, and then it connected with my ass–*smack*–tears immediately came to my eyes. The second *smack* came almost immediately after. I was totally humiliated, scared, and in *intense* pain. By the seventh or the eighth swat, I was way beyond my pain threshold. It was definitely worse than spankings I’d gotten at home. I know that I got at least twelve swats, but it felt like way more.

My spanking over, I was sent to the corner; my legs felt like they didn’t belong to me, and I wobbled walking to the corner. My ass was on fire. I mean burning. I was sobbing, just like Courtney had been, and, just like her, standing in the corner, I rubbed my stinging bottom. It was totally humiliating for my sister and cousin to see me getting spanked and sent to the corner like a bad little girl, and I’m sure that my face was bright red the whole time.

I barely heard my sister getting paddled. I was too concerned with my own burning ass by that point. I heard her getting the swats, heard her yelling in pain, but couldn’t really concentrate on anything other than rubbing my own sore ass.

Any point after that when Courney or Neil mentioned getting spanked, it took on a completely new perspective for my sister and I.

Welcome to my new blog! I wanted to introduce myself and to say what this blog is supposed to be about. My idea is to write about my spanking fantasies, spanking memories, and recent spankings. I’ll try to keep things divided up neatly.

If you have any ideas for something that you’d like to see, comments, or suggestions, please don’t hesitate to contact me–I love getting input from visitors! So, let me know if you have any ideas, and enjoy the new blog!