My parents never smacked me, although They often threatened to do it. However I would change my behaviour quickly, as I had seen my sister get smacked and it looked awful!
One time, my parents had to go out of town to visit my grandfather, who had been admitted to the hospital for surgery. They left me in the care of Margery, a family friend.
Margery was one of the sweetest, kindest people you’d ever meet. However, I knew that she smacked her children when they misbehaved. When my parents dropped me off, they discussed briefly the types of things I was and wasn’t allowed to do at home.
They also told Margery that if I misbehaved, she was welcome to treat me as one of her own and punish me as she saw fit. I didn’t think too much about this, as I expected to pretty much stay out of trouble.
Margery’s family was fairly well-to-do, living in a spacious style house with many modern amenities in the late 1960s. In contrast, my family was not as affluent, and our home was much more modest.
Well, it only took a day for things to turn ugly. Her son William had been roughhousing around the house and was pressuring me to let loose and have some fun, too. So we were getting a little wild and the next thing I knew, a picture had been knocked off the wall, and the glass broke.
William took off running but for some reason I just stood there, pretty much aware that there was nowhere to hide. Margery came running into the hallway, looked at the picture, looked at me and got a really angry look on her face. She did not say a word, but came over to me, grabbed my ear and led me to the living room. She told me to wait by the couch and said she’d be right back.
Margery came back about a minute later and I almost gasped out loud when I saw that she had a large hairbrush in her hand. I tried to tell her that it was William’s fault but the words didn’t come out right and I was stuttering, my eyes were focused on the hairbrush she was holding. The fear gripped me like a vice, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the cold sweat forming on my forehead as the realization of what was about to happen sank in.
She stood there listening, with her arms folded and her toe tapping impatiently on the floor, until it became obvious that I would not be able to talk my way out of this predicament.
Margery went over to the couch and sat down.
She was an average woman of that period in time, a little plump and ordinary. She wore a floral dress with a white apron tied around her waist. Her hair was neatly styled in soft curls, pinned back with a few bobby pins.
She told me to come over to where she was sitting. Before I knew it, I was across her lap, looking right at the floor, three inches from my nose. It was then that I realised that since this was my first spanking ever, I had no idea if I would be able to take it or not. I didn’t really have a choice. Without a word, she began smacking my behind with the hairbrush. I couldn’t believe how much it hurt! I didn’t think that much pain was possible! It was loud, too.
She started out slowly, covering a different part of my bottom with each smack, then moving to the backs of my thighs. After about 3 smacks they started getting harder and faster. I would yelp at each smack, then at about 6 smacks, she started hitting the same spot twice before moving around.
As the spanking continued, Margery began to lecture me. “Peter, you need to understand that actions have consequences,” she said sternly. “Breaking things in this house is unacceptable, and you must learn to respect other people’s property.”
With each smack, she emphasized her points. “You will not behave recklessly,” she continued, “and you will think twice before following others into trouble. Do you understand me?”
By this time, I was crying out loud and felt stupid for sounding like such a baby. Finally, after about a total of about a dozen good smacks, she stopped. She let me get up and finally said something.
“Peter,” she said, “You may think I have been harsh on you, but you deserved every minute of it. If you ever misbehave in this house again, you’ll get more of the same! Now, you go to the guest room and stay there until dinner time.”
I was relieved that it was over and left quickly. I lay on my stomach for about two hours, my bottom sore from the beating it had just endured. Then William’s father came home. I heard Margery talking to him as he took off his jacket and shoes.
I heard faintly that Willy was to be dealt with by him, and I was so glad that it wouldn’t be me! I was even more relieved when I learned later that having William’s father deal with you meant getting the belt!
