I have a younger brother – there are just 13 months between us, so Mother and Father didn’t exactly waste time after they had me!

With regards to spanking, I copped the odd smack or three to the backs of my legs a few times. I was never properly spanked at home, although Mother did threaten me one day that I had better watch myself as I wasn’t too old for a good hiding. I only ever saw my brother spanked once – more of that in a minute – but that memory meant I did indeed ‘watch myself’.

I never told my parents, but I did receive a sound slippering at junior school. I was 10, and myself and two other girls were done for smoking. We were not caught in the act, but our clothes stank so much of smoke when we returned to class that we were sent immediately to the deputy headmistress.

She had us bend over her desk in turn for about 10 whacks with her trusty old slipper. Unlike in most schools at the time, this was not a plimsoll but a genuine large size man’s tartan slipper, which covered our young bottoms entirely.

The deputy headmistress took a step and swung with all her strength for each stroke. Even though the punishment was given over school knickers, I can confirm it was pretty painful. The funny thing about a slipper is that it doesn’t really sting that much, but I can attest to it’s effectiveness. Out of the three of us girls, I was the only one who managed not to openly cry – but my eyes were certainly wet.

The slippering did teach me a lesson, and from then on I only sneaked a smoke after school, not during! I also took to eating mints after having a cigarette. I managed to hide the effects of the slippering from my parents. There was some reddening on my bottom and in a couple of places you could see the outline of the slipper. Those areas turned into fortunately light bruising.

I have no idea what Mother or Father might have done or said had they found out – I’m guessing I would have been given a long lecture and kept in for a week or two. And that is really the extent of my personal experiences regarding spanking.

However, as I mentioned earlier, I did see my Mother give my younger brother a good old-fashioned, spanking on one occasion – and it was a real scorcher!

The reason for the hiding – which I only discovered later – was that he had pinched some money from our mother’s purse to buy sweets. Mother held him across her knee and smacked him hard and fast, with a very determined look on her face. There were no words spoken – just a hard, fast hand spanking that turned my brother’s bottom very red, very quickly. Mother wrapped her arm around him, pulled him in tight and gave him a spanking he would no doubt never want to repeat. He never stole again, of that I’m sure.

My little brother bawled his eyes out – about which, of course, I later teased him relentlessly. However, I admit Mother really did smack him very hard, and for what seemed like forever. When she finally released him, she half dragged and half marched him up the stairs to his room, smacking his still bottom all the way.

Just watching Mother spank my bawling brother actually worked as a real deterrent for me. Her steely, determined face, and his kicking and bawling as her wriggled across her knee was more than enough to make me think twice about crossing Mother.

I never found spanking sexually stimulating when young – that only came later in adult life. I was interested in the punishment, though more curious than turned on.

About the time of my brother’s spanking, we had new neighbours move in next door. They had a son, named Peter, who was the same age as me. He was a cute boy, shorter than me, but very likeable. Although he liked to ride his bike over the field with my brother, Peter and I also spent time playing together, though I suppose hanging out would be a more accurate description.

In those days us kids were expected to go out after tea to play, but to be home by dark. Most of us pushed our luck as far as we dare without ending up with a sore Bottom. So I was quite shocked one evening when my brother told me that Peter had deliberately stayed out until it was really dark, because he actually wanted a smacked bottom. Apparently, he enjoyed the ‘afterburn’ of the spankings he received from his mother.

Having had his one very painful experience across own Mother’s knee as a reference, my brother didn’t understand Peter’s attitude at all. I did, though – and, what’s more, I found it, well…intriguing.

One day, I got up the courage to ask Peter whether what my brother had told me was true. Peter smiled shyly, shrugged but eventually admitted he did enjoy the after effects of a good spanking from his mother. He admitted that the spanking itself wasn’t exactly enjoyable, but it was worth the suffering for the lovely tingling, burning feeling bottom afterwards.

After that, Peter and I talked quite often about these frequent spankings he received from his mother during our early teen years, and I got an insight into how they were administered.

When she decided he needed his bottom smacking, Peter’s mother would warn him of the impending punishment. He was then usually sent to his room, but sometimes his mother would order him to wait for her in the kitchen.

She always placed him across her knees, and as he grew a little older and stronger she often turned him over the one knee to prevent him escaping. Peter was always spanked on his bottom and (in his own words) he often felt like his mother would never stop.

His Mother didn’t smack the way my own mother had spanked my brother, hard and fast. Instead, she smacked her son slowly and deliberately, aiming at specific points. Memorably for Peter, she would smack one specific spot several times before moving to the next part of his bottom. She would land perhaps 10 or 12 smacks on the same spot before changing to the other cheek.

Peter always cried without fail. But afterwards, lying face down on his bed, he would thoroughly enjoy the ‘afterburn sensation’, as he called it. I presume the heat of the spanking would work its way from back to front!

Peter and I grew quite close during this time, although I would describe him as my best friend rather than a boyfriend. At no time did we ever kiss, or indeed anything more serious. To be honest, I wouldn’t have put up much of a struggle if he had tried it on. I think I was falling in love – I was certainly enthralled by his accounts of the spankings from his mother. (They still have a very close relationship, by the way.)

Of course, what with one thing and another we lost contact when I went to university and Peter started work. We saw each other occasionally, mostly during the holidays, and we both lost our virginity to other partners. Peter was never far from my thoughts, though!

Many years later, I was at a New Year’s Eve party in a pub – drunk, and having a wild old time – when someone sneaked up behind me, put his hands over my eyes and asked: “Guess who?” I guessed correctly, turned around and kissed Peter passionately. I told him I had never been so happy to see someone in my whole life.

We sat talking into the early hours that night, during which I blurted out a question that I have been embarrassed by ever since. Peter sadly remembers this only too well, and reminds me of it every now and then, I should add.

I asked him: “If I were to spank you like your mother used to, would you go out with me?” Yup, I actually said that out loud! Quite a chat up line, isn’t it?

Fortunately Peter said yes and the rest, as they say, is history. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s Peter, because he’s the only person I have even spanked, but I really do enjoy the act. In fact, far more than I had expected!

The very first time we indulged was perhaps a week or two later. Getting time alone was the biggest problem, mostly due to the noise a spanking makes. A kiss and cuddle is nice and quiet, so we managed plenty of that – spanking, not so much.

Finally, Peter’s parents went out on a weekend night, and we had the place to ourselves for the evening. Peter asked if I would spank him as I would if he had been genuinely naughty. I agreed, and used the accounts of his mother’s spankings he had recalled all those years before, as a reference.

 

I sat down on a chair in front of him, and in a stern voice I told him I was going to put him across my knee and spank him soundly for coming home after dark. I took his hand, he leaned forward and his now solid hard-on pushed between my thighs as I took his weight across my knee.

I then spanked my naughty boy until I was almost out of breath. My hand stung, and my heart was thumping in my chest. I copied his Mother’s style, placing a dozen smacks on the same spot before moving on. I smacked hard as I could, deliberately slowly, placing my smacks accurately. It took ages but by the time I felt I had delivered a really good spanking.

Peter slid off my knees. I had not officially said he could, but I let it go

I asked if I had recreated his mother’s style of spanking accurately, I had, and Peter was quite emotional about that. He told me his Mother hadn’t spanked him for several years and he had missed it. He had also forgotten just how painful a spanking could be, but still felt it was worth the suffering for the feeling in his Bottom afterwards. For myself, I felt quite pleased that my first real spanking had been so successful!

Of course, we got married.
.

Peter has definitely helped me keep my ‘hand in’! I wouldn’t mind a pound for every time my husband has been put across my knee. We have experimented over the years – out of curiosity, we tried a slipper and a hairbrush. But Peter feels they are short-term implements, too quickly causing considerable pain. Short, sharp shock devices rather than long-term erotic spanking tools.

 

I’ve never made him cry with my hand – the closest we came was when experimenting with a purpose bought hairbrush. After a couple of stretched out spankings where I had to ease up, we finally agreed one night to try a ‘real spanking’ with the hairbrush.

I got Peter and began to spank him hard, 12 smacks at a time as usual. This one and only time, we had agreed a safe word – and Peter used it in under a minute! I mustn’t laugh – and when he reads this he will have a grumble – but you should have seen his face when he stood up! It was the genuine face of a naughty boy who had been spanked for real.

As Peter stood up, blowing hard and hands clasped to his burning bottom, I did have to bite my lip to suppress a smile. .

 

Finally, I do sometimes wonder whether, if Peter and his family not moved in next door to us all those years ago and I had married someone else, if spanking might ever have played a role in the bedroom. No early boyfriends ever mentioned the subject, and I only dared to bring it up with Peter because of our prior friendship.

Whatever, fate played it’s part – and I’m very glad it did.