I remember everything like it was yesterday. It was spring, another long weekend of my staying with my aunt, uncle and cousins, all of whom I loved. I was the oldest child in my own family unit, but I was the ‘baby’ when I stayed with my auntie and uncle, and I loved that too.
My Auntie Gracie was a woman you couldn’t help but notice. She was of medium height, with a sturdy, comforting build, and her face always seemed to carry a gentle warmth, even when she was being stern. Her hair was a soft brown, usually pulled back into a loose bun, with a few wisps escaping to frame her kind eyes and high cheekbones. She wore little makeup, just a touch of powder and sometimes a dab of rose-colored lipstick, but she always looked put together in her own way.
What I remember most vividly is how she dressed—especially that morning. Auntie Gracie wore her favorite floral house dress, a knee-length cotton number with a cheerful pattern of pink and blue flowers scattered across a pale yellow background. The dress had short, puffed sleeves and a rounded collar trimmed with white lace, and it was cinched at the waist with a simple fabric belt. She always seemed to have a clean white apron tied around her, pockets bulging with odds and ends—hairpins, a handkerchief, sometimes a peppermint or two. Around her neck, she wore a delicate gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped locket, and on her left wrist, a silver charm bracelet that jingled softly whenever she moved. Her feet were always in sensible slippers, faded from years of use, but still cozy and warm.
One Saturday afternoon, my cousin Johnny and I were running around like crazy in the house. His older brother Patty told us we had to stop or his Mother would spank us. I replied defiantly: “She would never spank me!” Patty made no comment on that but instructed us to ‘go outside now’, which we did. That was all that was said about it and I didn’t think about it anymore.
The next morning, Uncle John, Johnny and Patty left for church. Auntie told me that I didn’t have to go because they were also taking weekly Bible study classes after the service, and those were for older kids. I thought this was great because I didn’t want to get dressed up and sit in church anyway.
I came down into the kitchen, where Auntie Gracie was sitting enjoying a cup of coffee. When she saw me, she said: “Good morning, honey – did you brush your teeth and pee?” “Yes Auntie,” I said. I ran over to her to get my hug and kiss, coming over to her left side. To my surprise, she told me to come around to her other side, which I did.
Auntie slid her chair back, gave me a kiss and held me in her arms for a moment. She told me that she loved me like her other boys and would do anything for me. I only was wearing was my briefs, as that’s how we kids all slept back then. Then, to my utter shock, Auntie put her hands under my armpits and picked me up slightly, pulling me forward and down across her lap.
All of this happened like clockwork in just a few seconds and I didn’t even have time to react.
I couldn’t believe we had gone from a hug and a kiss to this. Like I said, I remember everything. Auntie was wearing her floral house dress, the one with the pink and blue flowers and the white lace collar, her charm bracelet jingling as she moved. We were at the head of the table, the refrigerator and sinks were behind us and I was facing the stove on her left side.
Suddenly, I realised that Patty must have told Auntie about what I had said the day before. (short pause) She shifted her weight, her arm tightening gently but firmly around my waist, holding me in place across her lap. I could feel the coolness of the kitchen chair beneath me, the faint scent of coffee and laundry soap in the air, and the soft rustle of her dress as she adjusted her position. Her demeanor was calm, almost businesslike, but there was a seriousness in her voice as she spoke softly, “This is for your own good, Eddie.” (pause) Then, with a measured rhythm, she raised her hand and brought it down squarely in the center of my bottom. The first smack landed with a sharp sting, the sound echoing in the quiet kitchen. I gasped, more from surprise than pain, but the next swat followed, and then another, each one deliberate and firm. (pause) Auntie’s hand was steady, her movements unhurried, as if she wanted me to feel every moment and understand the lesson. The warmth built quickly, spreading across my skin, and soon the sting deepened into a hot, throbbing ache. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to be brave, but the sensation was overwhelming—like sitting in a tub of scalding water, unable to escape. (pause) I could hear the faint jingle of her charm bracelet with every motion, and the church bells ringing in the distance, their chimes drifting through the open window and mingling with the sound of my quiet sniffles. (pause) Auntie didn’t spank as hard as Father or as fast as Mother, but her patience made it last much longer. She paused between each smack, letting the lesson sink in, her hand resting gently on my back before the next one fell. I remember the way her voice softened, almost regretful, as she reminded me, “I love you, but you must learn to listen.” (pause) My legs kicked a little, toes curling against the chair, but I didn’t dare struggle. The kitchen felt enormous and small at the same time, every detail burned into my memory—the sunlight on the linoleum, the ticking of the clock, the warmth of Auntie’s lap beneath me. (pause) By the time she finished, my bottom was burning, tears streaming down my face despite my best efforts to be brave. She lifted me gently, her hands warm and reassuring, and set me on my feet. Her eyes were kind but firm as she said, “Don’t ever think I won’t spank you, Eddie!”
But the most memorable spanking of all was the one Johnny and I received together. It happened one rainy afternoon, after we’d gotten into mischief that neither of us could deny. Auntie Gracie called us both into Johnny’s room, her slippers padding softly on the hallway floor. The air was thick with anticipation and a nervous energy passed between Johnny and me as we stood side by side, waiting for her verdict. (pause) Auntie sat down on the edge of Johnny’s bed, her floral dress spreading out around her, and motioned for us to come closer. She slipped off one of her faded slippers, holding it in her hand with a quiet authority that made my heart pound. “You both know what you did,” she said, her voice gentle but unwavering. “And you both know what’s coming.” (pause) She had us lay side by side on our bellies across the bed, our faces buried in the cool sheets, our bare legs dangling over the edge. I could feel Johnny trembling next to me, and I knew he could feel me shaking too. There was a strange comfort in sharing the moment—our hands gripping the blanket, our eyes squeezed shut, waiting together. (pause) Auntie started with Johnny, the slipper making a soft thwack as it landed on his bottom. He yelped, more from surprise than pain, and I felt the bed jolt beneath us. Then it was my turn—the slipper smacked down, sending a sharp sting through me. We took turns, Auntie alternating between us, her rhythm steady and deliberate. The room filled with the sound of the slipper, our muffled cries, and the occasional jingle of her charm bracelet. (pause) The atmosphere was oddly intimate—Auntie’s voice soothing us between swats, reminding us that we were loved, that this was for our own good. Johnny and I clung to each other, our shared discomfort somehow making it easier to bear. We sniffled and squirmed, but neither of us tried to escape. The sting of the slipper was real, but so was the sense of togetherness, of being in it side by side. (pause) When it was over, Auntie set the slipper aside and gathered us both into her arms, holding us close until our tears faded. The room was quiet except for our breathing and the soft pat of rain against the window. Even as the ache lingered, I felt a strange sense of relief—punished, yes, but forgiven and safe, with Johnny beside me and Auntie’s arms around us both.
In our family, discipline was seen as a necessary part of growing up—something that was always delivered with love and care, even if it stung in the moment. Whether it was a slipper, a belt, or just a firm hand, the chosen implement depended on the situation and the seriousness of the mischief. Punishments could be stern, but they were never cruel; they were always followed by comfort, a gentle word, or a warm embrace to remind us that we were loved, no matter what. That reassurance was just as much a part of the lesson as the discipline itself.
Then the clouds cleared from her face and she asked kindly: “Do you want some breakfast now?” I nodded and she made me my favourite – eggs, bacon and toast. Auntie even cut up my food for me when she served it, like I was a little boy. Despite my sore bottom, I determined to show her I was actually a big boy, who could take his punishment, by sitting down to eat.
It was definitely the most motherly spanking I ever got, and it was by no means the last time I would find myself being punished by Auntie, including that memorable dual spanking with Johnny, both of us laying side by side on our bellies on his bed while Auntie smacked our little bottoms thoroughly.
