My sister and I are both in our early fifties now, but our childhood was shaped by the 1970s—a time when physical discipline was still widely accepted. We both vaguely recall being spanked by our mother, though she never seemed comfortable with it. Not long after, she passed that duty on to our father.
Father always reached for his leather belt when it came time for punishment, and he didn’t hold back. He was a big, strong man, and even though we always kept our clothes on, his spankings left their mark—sometimes literally. As we got older, especially as we neared our teens, he started letting us choose: either take a spanking or be grounded. Grounding meant losing all our freedoms for days, so we usually picked the spanking. It was rough, but at least it was over fast.
Eventually, Father put the belt away for good. From then on, grounding became his standard way to discipline us.
Like a lot of boys, I didn’t really hit my growth spurt until my late teens. My sister, though, matured early—she was nearly as tall as our mother when she was still young. She was curvier than our slender mother, and with her classic blonde hair and blue eyes, she was striking. Even though I was two years older, for a while we were about the same size.
My sister and I had the typical sibling dynamic—sometimes best friends, sometimes rivals. We often teamed up for mischief, but we also enjoyed tattling on each other. She was stubborn, and I was always up to something, so we both got into trouble pretty often. Still, our worst misdeeds were things like copying homework or sneaking peeks at magazines we weren’t supposed to see.
One summer, on a dare, I stole some candy from the local convenience store. I thought I’d pulled it off until my sister caught me later. I knew I was in serious trouble—Father had zero tolerance for stealing, and the store owner was the type to call the cops. I was so anxious I felt dizzy and sick to my stomach.
That’s when my sister made me an unexpected offer. She didn’t like the store owner either, so she said she’d keep my secret—if I let her give me a spanking. At first, I thought she was kidding, but her serious expression told me otherwise. It was an easy decision: face Father’s fury, or let my little sister handle it. She was just a girl—how bad could it be? And, to be honest, the idea of being spanked by a girl—even my own sister—was oddly thrilling.
A couple of days later, our parents went out for the evening. My sister kept me guessing, but finally announced that tonight was the night. Our parents had ordered pizza, but I was too nervous and excited to eat much. My sister looked grown-up in her tight blue jeans and tied-off T-shirt, standing tall at 5’8”.
After dinner, she told me to go to her room, put the desk chair in the center, and wait. I sat there, heart racing, until she came in, slapping our mother’s big wooden clothes brush against her palm. I tried to act brave, but seeing that brush made my stomach twist. Still, I figured my jeans would protect me.
She sat down and called me over. I was more embarrassed about her seeing how nervous I was than about the pain, but when she threatened to tell Father, I gave in. She patted her lap and told me to bend over. I did, and she pressed her left hand firmly on my back.
She started off spanking me slowly and not too hard. Her hand stung, but it wasn’t unbearable. Soon, though, she picked up the pace and hit harder. Before long, I was squirming in her lap, tears running down my face. Eventually, she stopped—her hand was tired and red.
But then she grabbed the clothes brush and told me I was about to get what every thief deserved. The brush felt like a swarm of angry bees on my already sore backside. I was crying and wriggling, but she didn’t let up. She said a friend’s mother used to spank her kids even harder if they didn’t stay still, and she did the same, giving me a real thrashing with the brush.
When she finally let me up, she hugged me and said she’d spank me again if she thought I needed it. I could have refused after that—I had plenty of secrets about her, too—but I never did. As much as it hurt, I found something strangely exciting about being spanked by girls. In fact, later on, some of my sister’s friends and even a cousin ended up spanking me, too.
