My plan was to irritate Simon’s mother so much that she would have to give us a smacked bottom. Normally, we would avoid a smacked bottom, but the trick was to stuff our jeans with napkins right before.
At first, Simon said: “Are you crazy?” I replied: “Wait – with the napkins, it might sting a bit, but it won’t hurt, I promise.” I told Simon it would be a thrilling experience.
Simon’s mother was a kind woman who stood no nonsense. She believed in good old-fashioned smacked bottoms for naughty youngsters, either with her hand, a spoon, or her trusty slipper. She was about 6ft tall and around 220 pounds. She could be intimidating, but she was also kind, and I liked her.
To get our smacked bottoms, we decided to get caught watching his mother undress. This happened one evening when I was staying over. We sneaked into her room and hid under the bed. Eventually, she came in and started to undress. She took off her shirt. We were both very nervous and excited.
Everything was going smoothly until Simon accidentally kicked me. That made the bed move and create a noise. Simon’s mother looked under the bed and found us. “What are you doing?” she demanded. I stayed silent. “Both of you, get downstairs – now – and wait for me!”
We went downstairs to wait. Simon was nervous, but I wasn’t. Everything was going according to plan – until Simon remembered he hadn’t stuffed his pants. He started to cry. As he was crying, his mother was coming down the stairs. “This is all my fault,” I told Simon. I said I would take the blame and explain everything to his mother.
When his mother entered the room, the first thing she said was: “Are you boys ready for a smacked bottom?”
Quickly, I explained that it was all my idea and I pressured Simon into it. Simon’s mother said: “I need to call your parents.” I pleaded: “Please don’t do that.” “Why not? They need to know about this.” Bravely but maybe stupidly, I told her: “I’ll make you a deal – if you don’t tell my parents, I’ll let you give me a smacked bottom over your knee.”
Finally, Simon’s mother agreed. She told Simon to go to his room, saying they would talk later. Then she went over to the couch and said: “Come here.”
I went over to her right knee. She asked if I was ready for a serious smacked bottom. I bent over her knees. She gave me a couple of gentle pats on my rear.
Then she began to smack my bottom. The first few smacks stung, but by the ninth, I couldn’t take it anymore. I started to cry more and more. “Stop making such a fuss, Peter”, Simon’s mother gently scolded. “You are very lucky I am not using my slipper,” she continued. “Then you would have something to cry about.”
After countless smacks, I was squirming and crying heavily. Eventually, she stopped and let me off her knee, giving me the warning that next time it would be the slipper. I started to go upstairs but first thanked her for disciplining me. Right then, I decided never to test Simon’s mother again.
