It was in my younger days that my maternal grandparents looked after me for a weekend while my parents were away. Although I was still quite young, there was part of me developing into a bit of brat, particularly when parents, grandparents or teachers told me to do something.
The farm where my grandparents lived had a 200-metre driveway – so if you had to take out the trash, you had to walk that distance to a garbage can placed beside the road.
It was a Saturday. Grandma had gone to buy some groceries. As she got ready to go, she asked me to take out the trash. This was not something I wanted to do, so I pretended not to hear.
Just as she left, she said: “Sarah, I expect to find that job done by the time I get back. Do you understand?” I answered: “Yes, Grandma” obediently enough, but I didn’t make any move to lift my bottom off the sofa, from where I was watching a TV show.
Well, you’ve probably already guessed what happened next. Grandma got back and I had still not taken out the trash. She began to scold me, saying: “Being part of a family is that we help each other, Sarah. If I can take the time to cook your food, the least you can do is help take out the trash.”
With that, she went into the kitchen and I heard her go out of the back door. I honestly thought I had gotten away with not doing as I was told.
However, about five minutes later she returned, and told me that shewanted to see me in the woodshed. Since the time I had broken one of my grandma’s porcelain birds, I knew what a trip to the woodshed was all about, and so slunk over there very slowly indeed.
When I got to the woodshed,
Grandma looked at me “Sarah, come in and close the door behind you.” I reluctantly obeyed, and Grandma sat down on a log. He took my chin in her hand and made me look her in the eye.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl by not doing as you are told. If I asks you to take out the trash, I expect you to obey – do you understand, Sarah?” I nodded. “Now you are going to be punished for your disobedience. What happens to naughty girls in this house?”
I made a last desperate attempt to save my bottom. “Please, Grandma, don’t spank me! I’ll go take out the trash now!” She nodded: “Yes, you will take out the trash – but after I have dealt with you. First, you are going to have your bottom made sore.”
She took me by the wrist and gently but firmly placed me bottom up over her knee. I felt her left hand draw my jeans up, pulling the seat tight over my buttocks. Then She raised her hand and began to spank me. Even through a layer of denim and my panties, the smacking stung unbelievably and after only three or four whacks I was sobbing like a little girl.
In all, I got 18 smacks – double my age. I cried so much, and Grandma held me as I had a weep on her shoulder. “I love you very much, Sarah,” She said, “so let’s hope you behave better in future. Now, you go say sorry to Grandma and then you take out the trash like a good girl.”
I walked slowly back to the kitchen, rubbing the seat of my jeans as I did so. I was still crying and fell into my grandmother’s arms, telling her that I was sorry. She held me gently for a little while I regained my composure, then asked gently: “Are you going to take the trash out now, Sarah?” I nodded with a little gulp.
I grabbed hold of it and began the long walk down to the end of the drive – now with a very warm bottom inside my jeans.
