When I was in my first year in college, I moved into an apartment complex where most of the residents were a great deal older than me. My immediate neighbour was a woman in her early late 40s, who had a youngerson.
Her name was Pat, and he son was called Aaron. Obviously she had had Aaronquite late in life, but before her pregnancy she had been an elementary school teacher. As I already had a ‘thing’ about spanking, that knowledge made my ears prick up. Pat was quite a large woman, about 5ft 10in, with large thighs, and an ample lap, and I wondered if she had spanked during her teaching career.
It didn’t take me long to find out that whatever had been the situation at school, she was certainly a spanking mother. Not long after moving in, I heard the first of many such punishments being given. The sound of ringing slaps, accompanied by the boy’s yells and crying, became quite common.
Unmistakably, these spankings were given on the bottom, . I would picture Aaron, , across his mother’s knee with
Pat working hard to make sure he had a good sore bottom. After the punishment was over, I would listen to the Aaron cry.
I began to cultivate my neighbours a little and became friendly with them. Over coffee, we would talk about a lot of subjects and one day, I managed to get the conversation round to Aaron’s spankings.
At first, Pat seemed a little flustered that I knew about them (though I’m pretty sure half the apartment block could hear!) but I made it clear that I was supportive of kids being disciplined properly and that my parents had torn up my bottom on more than one occasion.
Pat told me that she only ever spanked Aaron for important things such as disrespect, lying and poor school grades. I told her my parents always spanked me which was actually a lie) and asked whether that was how Aaron got his.
Pat confirmed that was the case, and I told her I had guessed from the sound of the smacking. She told me she normally used her hand but if Aaron had been very naughty, he got the belt. This was something I hadn’t guessed.
I worked the conversation around to Pat’s teaching days, and she eventually confided that although the state didn’t have a spanking policy, she nevertheless had put quite a few pupils over her knee and spanked them. “I was pretty confident none of the kids would go to their parents and complain about being spanked,” she explained, “because most of them would have got a second dose at home anyway.”
Naturally, I found this conversation hugely stimulating – rather too much so.
I thought for a minute she was going to either punch me or throw me out, but then her lips set in a hard pout and she seemed to make up her mind about something. “You need dealing with, young man! You be in your apartment at two o’clock this afternoon!”
I left hurriedly, somewhat confused. By the time I got in my apartment, I was limp again. I didn’t really think anything would come of Pat’s threat – it was probably just a way of getting me out of her flat. Nevertheless, I didn’t go out that afternoon, as I had originally planned. Instead, I caught up with some college work.
Two o’clock came and went, and it was nearly 20 minutes past when there came an imperious knock on the door. I opened it and Pat pushed her way past me into the house without being asked in. She shut the door behind her, then took me by the hand and led me into my bedroom.
She stood me before her and sat down on my bed. “I’m here to teach you a lesson, young man,
Pat spanked her lap invitingly. “Come on, naughty boy, get over my knee!” I didn’t need any second bidding – it was a bit awkward but I finally found myself over her lap, her spanking hand already resting familiarly on my right bottom cheek. She adjusted me some to get me in the right position, then put her left hand in the small of my back and made a start.
It must have been at least five years ago since I had received corporal punishment of any kind, and I had forgotten how much it could hurt. Pat had a hand like steel, and used her muscular arms to good effect as she held and spanked me. My bottom was soon burning, as I rocked back and forth on her lap.
It was something of a surprise, therefore, when I found myself crying softly as the punishment came to an end. She turned me face up on her lap and put my face into her generous cleavage as she cuddled me.
That was the first of many spankings I got from Pat. She later introduced me to the belt, which left me sore for days
Then, once Aaron had gone to school or been sent out to play, pretty soon afterwards, there would be another knock on my door.
