Like a children, there were times when I would push just a little too far. It was during these moments that I ended up getting the real thing. In our house the real deal consisted of a private bare bottom spanking.
Most of the time my father was the spanker. My mum was more likely to utter the age old sentence that ensured dread in a child.
“You just get to your room and wait until your father gets home.”
When that was said you just knew that you were going to be sent to bed early and with a sore bottom.
I remember well the naughtiness that lead to the first time my father introduced the hairbrush. As soon as I was sent to my room I knew that this particular spanking would be especially bad. My father had spanked me for the very same thing only a few weeks before.
I sat on my bed nervously waiting to hear dad’s car turn into the garage.
All too soon I heard the car turn into the garage and my brother and sister greeted dad at the door. I heard mum and dad talking and dad saying in an angry voice “What Again?”
I heard his footsteps up the hallway heading to my room…the door knob turned and an angry father put his head through the door.
“Get ready for bed and be quick about it. I'll be back to speak to you about your behavior in a few minutes.” and with that my bedroom door shut.
I quickly changed into my pajamas and went to the bathroom returning to my room just as my father was coming down the hallway – in his hand was the hairbrush. Now I'd never been spanked with the hairbrush, but I'd heard my sister being spanked with it. My hands went instinctively to my bottom and promises to be good flowed from my mouth. My father just pointed to my room with the hairbrush “Get to your room this instant.” I think I started to cry at that point ….I know that I was crying by the time the lecture had finished.
Dad placed the hairbrush on the desk and then turned the chair around from desk. Sitting down he pulled me between his knees telling me that he loved me, but that he was going to spank me. With those words he slid his hands into the waistband of my pajamas taking them down until they slid over my hips and puddled around my ankles. As he was doing this he also turned me over his knee. With one hand tucked around my waist pulling me close to him and the other resting on my bottom the spanking started. He started in the middle of one check working his way half way down my thighs and then working his way up the other side.
After a couple of minutes he stopped, resting his hand on my now red bottom. At that point I clearly remember thinking “that wasn't too bad." He helped me up reminding me that I had been spanked for this before and that he wasn't finished yet. I was told to get the hairbrush from the desk.
Believe it or not I had completely forgotten about the brush. My crying started again. Quietly he lifted my head and looked directly into my eyes and told me “Now would not be a good time to be disobedient.”
It must have only been a little more than a couple of meters to the desk and back, but the trip there felt long and on the way back to my father the brush felt very heavy in my hot hands.
It didn't take long before I was back over my father's lap. At first the brush felt cool as he gently rubbed the brush around my bottom in a circular motion. I remember promising good behavior, pleading for another chance. No luck. He raised the brush reminding me that deliberate naughtiness would be punished and with that he brought the brush down with a flick of his wrist.
To this day I can still remember the crack it made and the burning sting that came with it. My father was firm in his resolve and spanked my deserving bottom until I thought that I couldn't take anymore. He must have noticed something in my body language because with the two or three last smacks to the back of my previously un-spanked thighs, he stood me and set the brush down on my bed.
He hugged me tightly. By now I was sobbing and snot was running out of my nose. My hands rushed back trying to cool my hot throbbing bottom. He didn't seem to care. The hands that had just spanked me soothed the back of my hair. They continued down my back and eventually his hands reached out and brought my hands back to my sides. Gently pushing me back a step or two, he looked lovingly into my face
“Don't make me do that again” he said. Letting go of my hands he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hankie so I could blow my nose.
He picked up my pajama pants and gently placing me in the corner he handed them to me.
“When you are ready, you may put your pants back on, wash your face and put the hairbrush back on mum’s dresser and join the family”
In our family if your behavior caused you to get a spanking you were expected to deal with it and move on. There were no cushions for your sore bottom. You were expected to join in on conversations, putting the spanking behind you.
It was tea time by the time I was ready to leave my room. My bottom was still smarting, but I sat down at the table and tried to join in on the family conversations. It was very difficult. My bottom was getting hotter by the second and the sting still pulsated through my body. As the meal ended I was at a point where I was starting to tear up again. My conversation had become almost silent and I picked at my food, wanting to be anywhere but there. Slowly a hot tear ran down my face and on to my plate.
Mum got up to get desert – apple crumble. Dad looked into my tear filled eyes and said “I think you need to go back to your room – say goodnight and go to bed.”
As I got into bed with my sore bottom throbbing and the smell of apple crumble filling my nose, I thought to myself…..was it worth it?!
As mum and dad both tucked me into to bed with the usual “I love you’s” I said I was sorry. I was told to shush. It was over and forgotten and the best way to prove that I was sorry was to think about things before I did them.
Looking back, I can honestly say that I remember a loving family, spanking and all.