From: Megan M.
The Ritual of Properly Smacking a Bottom
When I was growing up in the late 40's, 50's and early 60's, it seemedto me that every child got his or her bottom smacked at one time orother. Most of the time it was an impromtu spanking, the culprithauled unceremoniously over the irate parent's or guardian's lap, anda flurry of smacks landed on whatever part of the struggling culpritsclothed anatomy was available to the descending hand.
Not in our home though! Corporal punishment, when carried out on me,or my siblings (there were 7 of us with me second oldest), took theform of a ritualised ceremony. Mother was the prime disciplinarian,Father only playing a role if you were stupid enough to resist! In thatcase you got a bare bottom thrashing from father, with his hard hand,then he left you to the tender mercies of mother, who proceeded togive you the same smacked bottom as you would have gotten originally!We learned early to co-operate!
Let me describe to you what I would call the stages of properlydisciplining a child, a tradition I carried on, with great success, inraising my own four children.
The Call
There was something in the way mother called "Megan!" that sentshivers up my spine.I just knew from the tone I was in big, bigtrouble. I would slowly enter the living room, a slight flicker ofhope that perhaps I was mistaken. But a glance at mother's face as shesat cross-legged on one of the soft padded chairs, staring hard at me,her mouth set, told me to abandon hope!
Sometimes 'the call' took a little longer, when I was dispatched toschool, with a sound whap on my skirt clad bottom, and "We'll seeabout that when you get home, young lady!," ringing in my ears, as Imade my way down the driveway to the school bus. All day I sat at mydesk watching the big second hand on the wall clock push the minuteand hour hands closer and closer to quitting time and my awaitingfate. That walk up the drive, with some of my brothers and sister's,seeing mother at the door, her arms folded under her ample bosum, herlegs apart, eyes flinty, as she snapped "Hurry up, Megan!"
The Lecture
The lecture was always long and excrutiatingly painful -mentally,though, not physically. Physical pain was to come! Mother was an expertin getting the truth, and twisting your words to make them even moreincriminating. I would stand in front of mother, hands wringing,shifting my weight from foot to foot, feeling the emotions rising fromthe pit of my stomach, and trying to choke back the tears, as I trieddesperately to think of any way to get our of what was about tohappen! Her bosum heaving, she would cross and uncross her legs, as thetone of her lecture, and interrogation, rose and fell! I can stillhear that soft swish from her nylons, as her thighs brushed together,and I glanced down at her large lap, picturing myself across it,bottom bare, yelping from the pain!
Often father would be sittng in there, as would one or two of mybrothers or sisters, pretending to do homework, or reading a book, butreally focussed on what mother was saying, and glancing from time totime taking in my discomforture. I had watched my sibs in the samepredicament so knew just how enjoyable and exiting they were findingthe whole thing! And so, so glad it was not them!
The Walk
Like all good things -lol!- the lecture finaly drew to a close! Was it arelief? Maybe! Hard to tell! My mind by that time would be spinning,my stomach would be in knots, my hands would be dabbing tears from myeyes, my knees would be quaking, and I would be trying desperately notto cause too much of a scene in front of my siblings, and certainlynot in front of father, in case he determined I was 'resisting' alittle to much!
Mother would stand, heavily, and smooth the front of her skirt downover her ample thighs. With a curt, "Come along, Megan!"- normallyI was 'Meg', but if my bottom was in trouble, it was always"Megan!" She took me firmly by the shoulder or arm, and we walkedslowly out of the living room across the hall into the bathroom.
Mother always used the bathroom when we were younger, if we were due asmacked bottom. I think she liked the idea of its closeness, and theprivacy it gave her when she locked the door. Although, as I will tell youin detail later, she would on occasion leave the door ajar, if shewanted an audience to really appreciate what a smacked botom was allabout in our home!
In our later years, say 13 or 14 and older, thelecture was the same, but we were then dispatched alone to ourbedroom, via hers to pick up the strap or cane, to 'prepare'. Thatmeant, after placing the strap or cane in the middle of my bed,slipping my panties down to my ankles, then folding my skirt up abovemy waist, I would face the wall, bare bottom facing the door and awaitmother's arrival!
But here I am describing a bathroom spanking. I can still remember theawful 'click' that lock made, emphasising all was lost.
The Bathroom
The bathroom was big- large white porcelain tub and toilet. There waslinoleum on the floor, which had such a floor wax, musty, uriny smellwhen my nose was pressed to it, as I lay over mother's lap. Whiteceramic tiles covered the walls. There was a big wooden vanity, with alarge white sink set in it, and a couple of cupboard doors below, anda big mirror above. The acoustics in that room were superb in that thesounds of hand or hairbrush impacting with my bare buttocks, mymother's stern lecturing, and my yelps and cries, would reverberateoff the wall and mix together into such a caucophony of sound. I knowwhen I listened to one of my sibs 'get it' in the bathroom the soundswere incredible!
To this day, bathrooms have a special place in my psyche. When I visitmy parents I still walk into that room, a little trepidation in myheart!. And I have used my own main bathroom on many occasions whendisciplining my own children. A very useful room!
The Room Preparation
Having firmly locked the door, mother would turn and sternly stare atme, looking for even a trace of resistance, then brush by and bendheavily at the waist, legs straight, open up the cupboard below thesink. I was faced by her bottom, the material of her skirtpulled tight across it.
"What would it be like to smack that?", I wondered. I never tried, of course.
As well as the bottom facing me, I noted mother's skirt hadridden up, and I had a good view of the tops of her nylons, thestraining elastic garters, the frilly hem of her corset, and theexpanse of white thigh 'tween stocking top and corset. Iwondered if my brother's had experienced such a view, and what theythought of it?
She rose heavily, her face florid from the exertion of bending, as sheturned to face me, slapping the hairbrush (large oval canadian maplewood) on her left palm! My heart sunk even further!
She laid the brush on the side of the bath, then took the bath mat andlaid it down in the middle of the floor, pushing me roughly aside!Then one leg at a time, she knelt down on the bath mat, sat back onher heels facing me, and with her hand guided me in front!
My Preparation
The lecture renewed. Oh how well she described what I had done wrongand what was about to happpen! My tears started anew and I tried alittle pleading but I knew it was to no avail. Never did motherbare my bottom, put me over her lap, then let me up unsmacked!
As she lectured she started to turn my skirt up. My hands landed onhers, but she stopped, reached for the hairbrush, and I quicklywithdrew. I know only to well what a crack on the knuckles feels likefrom that brush! I watch wided eyed as my skirt is raised and mypanties are exposed!
Today I am wearing my green serge school knickers, elasticated waistand legs, that leave a thin red line around the tops of my thighs andaround my waist! The type of panties I am wearing is inconsequential,whether they be cotton, nylon or serge- they will be coming down!
Not like my best friend Jill. She gets spanked too, but by her fathermostly. He takes her over his lap, and smacks over her skirt orslacks, or at worst lifts her skirt or takes down her slacks andsmacks her bottom over her panties. She says she has never had a barebottomed spanking! She says it is just as sore over panties, andbesides she thinks her father smacks harder than my mother, but I don't believe her!
With my skirt high above my waist, mother then turned her attention tomy panties, and I felt her cold fingers scrabble between my stomachand the elasticated waist. Normally I am very ticklish-but not thistime! Slowly, oh so slowly she 'talked' them down, unhooking wherethey were caught up between my thighs. As long as I live I will neverforget the feeling on my thighs and lower legs from the garment as itwas lowered. The waft of cool air blowing over my exposed cheeks.That feeling of total helplessness as I stare down over my naked hips,thighs and legs, at the tangle of material around my ankles! I don'tcare what Jill says!- getting your panties down is a huge deal!- maybeworse than the spanking itself!
The Spanking
Satisfied that I am properly prepared, mother pulls me to her rightside. I shuffle, trying not to trip because of my panties encirclingmy ankles! I look down at the skirt clad lap below me.
Time to go over! She half hauls, half pushes me over her lap. I kindof resist, but dare not! I place my hands on the floor on her leftside and lower my bare bottom on to her lap. How hard the linoleumfeels on my elbows and knees, and how soft does her lap feel on thefront of my hips! She carefully adjusts my hips so that my bottom isidealy placed for a sound smacking. I clasp my fingers together, toensure my hands don't stray over my bottom to provide protection, pressmy head on to the floor, squeeze, and clench my buttocks as tighttogether as I can, to make as small a target as posible, and pray fordeliverance! -it never came! -lol!
As mother gazes down on my fresh white, unblemished hams, she lecturessome more then raises her right hand and "SMACKKKKK!" brings it downfull across both the widest plumpest portion of both cheeks. No matterhow often I am spanked, nothing can prepare me for the pain of thatfirst smack! I try to imagine what it will be like, but when itarrives it is alweays 10 times worse than I remembered! The cane andstrap are even worse-if that is possible!
Mother starts up a steady rythm of lecturing and spanking. I alwaystry to be brave, but as the spanking continues and the pain increases Istart to blubber, then really cry! I am aware initially that my bros andsisters wil be listening -I have heard them in distress oftenmyself- but with the pain I really do not care what they hear!
From my own experience I know now that mother smacked until her handwas too uncomfortable to continue. She then picked up the hairbrushfrom the side of the bath and delivered a few vigorous splatts allover my bottom and halfway down my thigh. The pain is so bad, myfingers release and my hand shoots back to cover. Mother pauses, andsays "Megan!- 2 seconds to move that!" "One... Two!!" CRACK!! I wastoo slow and feel the pain lancing up my arm from the crack on theknuckles she gives me. My hand withdraws rapidly and I hold it tightlywith my other as the hairbrush continues its round of my buttocks andhighs. By the time she finally stops, my crying is hoarse and I am one wellpunished young lady!
The Finale
With a contemptiuous push, mother spills me off her lap on to thefloor, where I lay, like a little hedgehog, curled in a ball, my handssqueezing my bare buttocks trying desperately to ease the pain.With a "I hope you have learned a good lesson today, Meg!",mother unlocks the door shutting it behind her. It is over except forthe embarrassment of facing father and my brothers and sisters. Thoughsince my siblings have often gotten the same, I really do notunderstand why it was so!
So there you are! Hope you enjoyed.
Dear All,
Thinking about the 'happy' memories I have of mymother's discipline sessions put me in mind of one particular one youmight like to hear about.
I must have been 10 at the time. Mother was sitting in the livingroom, me standing in front, head down, feet shuffling as shelectured me sternly. I knew this was a precursor to that dreadfulmarch to the bathroom! Mother always smacked our bottoms in there (atleast until we were teens when it was done in either her or ourbedroom). I think she liked the fact that it was close and the doorcould be locked, so we would be uninterrupted.
Anyway, as Mother was winding down the lecture, and I was steelingmyself for the inevitable, clenching my chubby bottom cheeks, under mywhite coton panties, sobbing a little, wondering just how bad a one Iwas due, the door bell went. Now I should have scuttled quickly intothe bathroom, as mother went to answer it, but for some reason I stoodrooted to the spot in the living room.
I heard mother's voices from the hall--"AH!... Mary... and Tommy too... comein"
Oh no, it was our next door neighbours!!--Tommy (who attended the sameclass as me at school) and his mother!
"Come on in!" said mother leading them into the living room.
I turned to face them, my face as red as my bottom was about to be, myheart pounding, my palms sweating.
"H..h..hello Tommy.... h..h..hello Mrs Ogilvie!" I stammered. Motheralways insisted we were polite, even in the most trying ofcircumstances!--lol!
"Hello, Megan", said Mrs Ogilvie, a warm smile on her face. Tommyjust kind of nodded, his face a trifle puzzled at my obviousdiscomfort.
"Sit down... sit down, and make yourself comfortable", said mother "Iwon't be long. I have just something to discuss with Megan!"
"Discuss"- wow!! that was a euphemism if ever I heard one!!-though Imust admit I did not know then what a euphemism was-lol!!
I watched them sitting down, their eyes rivetted on me, as mother tookme firmly by the arm, and with a "Come along Megan!" led me out ofthe room across the hall into the main bathroom.
As I said, I think Mother liked the bathroom because she could lockthe door, but on this occasion she left it ajar. I think she wanted toimpress Mrs. Ogilvie with her skills in smacking bottoms, and whatone was like in our home!!!
Normally I made a lot of noise when having my botom bared, thenspanked. I would plead, cry, never resist of course, but really yelpas each hard smack from mother's hand or hairbrush descended on mynaked nates!
With Tommy and his mother listening, I tried to be quiet as a mouse. Iimagined them sitting in the room oposite, bolt upright, their earspricked for every nuance of noise emanating from that bathroom!
Mother wasn't quiet though. If anything she was louder than usual. Sheknelt before me on the floor, and lectured loudly, describing indetail where I had gone wrong and the consequences about to befall me.I tried pressing my hands gently on her mouth to quieten her, but shebrushed them away, saying "Don't be so silly Megan. You were the onewho asked for this!!", God was I mortified!
I think I was wearing a skirt, because I can still remember how coldher hands were as she reached under it and her fingers scrabbled forthe waist band of my panties! She described in graphic detaileverything she was doing, and why, in the loudest of voices, paintingthe perfect for the audience in the next room!
The bathroom was the coolest room in the house and i can clearlyremember the feeling of the cool breezes blowing gently over my barebottom after Mother turned my skirt up above my waist, and she satback on her heels and looked at me.
"Sorry for yourself, now..eh, Megan?... not quite so cocky standingthere with your bottom bare, young lady??"
If the ground could have opened and swallowed me I would have beenhappy! I wondered how I would ever be able to look Tommy in the faceagain.
Mother pulled me over her lap, adjusted my hips so my bototm wasideally placed for her hand, describing loudly "Just what happens tonaughty girls"
The smell of the linoleum, and the trace of urine in the air, the feelof the hard floor digging into my elbows and knees-so memorable. Andthat feeling of helplessness as I lay there listening to mother, mybare buttocks totally exposed and vulnerable.
I would like to say that i took the spanking stoically but I cannot.Oh the first few smacks, I managed a grunt or two, but as mother gotinto her rythm, and the pain mounted i started to yelp, them cry thenplead. A great show for Tommy!! But I could not help it! I do not knowwhat he thought when mother switched to the hairbrush and I really letloose.
Finally it was over, and mother dumped me unceremoniously on the floorand went out leavig the door open, to join our neighbours. I curled ina ball, my hands clutching my burning cheeks trying desperately tosqueeze out the pain!
Finally I recovered a little, stood, pulled my panties gingerly over myred, bruised, swollen bottom, and scuttled out of the room. As I headeddown the corridor i glanced into the living room. Mother and MrsOgilvie were sitting talking, but Tommy was staring right out at me. Icould have died.
Funilly enough, Tommy never mentioned the incident, and of courseneither did I. Probably because he had received a few hot bottomshimself, from his mother, and maybe sympathised with me!
Who knows--but anyway there it is-hope you enjoyed!
Regards,
Meg
The End |
