Before I get into the main story, I want to set the scene a little. The church outing that day was honestly wonderful—a real happy, clappy Christian occasion. The sun was shining, everyone was in good spirits, and the park was filled with laughter, singing, and the delicious smell of barbecue. There were games for the younger ones, friendly chatter among the adults, and a sense of community that made everyone feel welcome and safe. It was the kind of day where you felt surrounded by love, joy, and the warmth of faith—a truly positive, cheerful atmosphere that made it easy to forget about any worries.
The family friend I knew through church as Aunt Georgina babysat me a lot during my childhood, along with the parents of my best friend Hannah. The incident I want to tell you about this time happened when I was eight years old. Our church held a barbecue in one of the local parks. In that park was a duck pond—a place that fascinated all of us younger ones, but also a spot that made the adults very nervous.
The adults were extremely clear about the dangers of the pond. They explained to us, in no uncertain terms, that the water was deep enough for a child to drown in, and the banks were slippery and muddy. It would be all too easy for a child to fall in, hit their head, or get stuck in the mud. There were also stories of children in other towns who had gotten into serious trouble, or even lost their lives, by playing too close to water without supervision. Because of all these risks, we were strictly forbidden to go near the pond unless an adult was with us at all times.
Before we were allowed to play, the adults gathered us together and gave us a very stern warning. They said, “If any of you go near that pond without an adult, you will be in big trouble. You will get your bottoms smacked very hard if you disobey. We are not joking—this is for your own safety.” The message was loud and clear: the pond was off-limits, and the consequences for breaking this rule would be swift and painful.
After eating our meal, one of the Sunday school teachers took us youngsters to the park’s playground while Aunt Georgina and the other adults held a small service, with a few songs and a sermon from our pastor.
When the service ended, it was time for us all to leave, so Aunt Georgina went to pick me up from the playground. However, neither I nor Hannah were anywhere to be found and naturally both Aunt Georgina and the Sunday school teacher were very concerned.
While out searching, the Sunday school teacher finally found us – we were with Hannah’s dad, who had his daughter by one hand and me by the other. He had found us both near the forbidden pond and boy, was he mad!
The two adults knelt down so they were at eye level with us two children, and roundly scolded us for disobeying the rules. They reminded us of the dangers they had warned us about, and how we could have been seriously hurt or worse. Finally, Hannah’s dad stood back up, grabbed his daughter by the hand again and walked her towards the family car. As he did so, I heard him promise Hannah a sound spanking when he got her home.
I didn’t hold out much hope for my own bottom and sure enough, as soon as Aunt Georgina got me back in her car, she said: “When we get home, young lady, you’re going to get a good spanking as well!”
The car ride home was tense and silent at first, but then Aunt Georgina’s voice broke the quiet, low and stern. She said, “I am so disappointed in you. You know better than to ignore such an important rule. I trusted you to listen, and you let me down today.” Her words stung more than I expected, and I could feel my cheeks burning with shame. (short pause)
She continued, her tone unwavering, “That pond is not a place to play. Children have drowned in places just like that, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Do you understand how serious this is? Rules like these aren’t just to spoil your fun—they’re to keep you safe, even when you don’t realize the danger.” (pause)
Aunt Georgina went on, “When adults warn you about something, it’s not because we want to be mean. It’s because we love you and want you to grow up safe and sound. If you had slipped, if you had fallen in, it could have been a disaster. I would have been heartbroken, and your parents would have been devastated. You must never, ever go near water like that without an adult. Never.” (pause)
Her voice softened just a little, but the disappointment was still there. “I need you to think about what could have happened, not just about getting in trouble. I want you to remember this feeling, and remember that rules are there for a reason. I expect better from you, and I know you can do better.” (short pause)
I sat in the back seat, staring at my hands, feeling the weight of her words. I was scared of the spanking, but even more, I hated that I had let her down. The car seemed smaller and quieter than ever, and I wished I could take back what I’d done. (pause)
When we arrived back at her house, Aunt Georgina told me: “Go to your room and change into your pyjamas, then sit on your bed and wait for me. I’ll be up to deal with you directly.”
I did as I was told and sat nervously on my doomed bottom for about 15 minutes before I heard her footsteps on the stairs. Each step creaked, echoing through the quiet house, and my heart pounded faster with every sound. The air in my room felt thick and heavy, and I could barely sit still, fidgeting with the hem of my pyjamas, my stomach twisting with dread.
Aunt Georgina entered, her face serious but not angry—just deeply disappointed. She sat down on my bed and motioned for me to stand in front of her. The room was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. She looked me in the eyes and spoke softly but firmly, “You know why this is happening, don’t you?” I nodded, my throat tight, unable to speak. She continued, “You were warned, and you chose to disobey. This is not just about breaking a rule, it’s about your safety. I need you to remember this.”
Then, with a gentle but unyielding grip, she guided me across her knee. The fabric of my pyjamas felt thin and insubstantial, and I could feel the cool air on the backs of my legs. My heart thudded in my chest, and I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself. Aunt Georgina raised her hand, and the first smack landed with a sharp, echoing sound that filled the room. The sting was immediate, hot and startling, and I gasped. She continued, each smack deliberate and firm, the sound of her hand meeting my bottom ringing out in steady rhythm. I tried to be brave, but the pain built quickly, each smack burning more than the last. I squirmed and whimpered, but Aunt Georgina held me securely, her arm strong around my waist.
As the spanking went on, I couldn’t hold back my tears. I sobbed loudly, the sound muffled by the bedspread beneath me. My legs kicked involuntarily, and I clutched at the covers, desperate for it to be over. Aunt Georgina counted out each smack, her voice calm but unwavering: “One… two… three…” all the way up to twenty-four. Each number seemed to stretch out the punishment, making it feel endless. My bottom felt like it was on fire, and my whole body shook with the effort of crying and trying to stay still.
When the last smack landed, Aunt Georgina paused, her hand resting gently on my back. I was left sobbing, my face buried in the bedspread, my bottom throbbing and sore. The room was filled with the sound of my crying and the faint ticking of the clock. She let me stay there for a moment, letting the lesson sink in, before helping me up and pulling me into a gentle hug. Her voice was soft now, full of love and concern. “I know that hurt, but I hope you understand why I had to do it. I love you too much to let you take such risks.”
Still sniffling, I was told to fetch a diaper so she could get me ready for an early bedtime. My hands trembled as I obeyed, the pain still fresh and raw. Aunt Georgina gave me another gentle lecture about listening and obeying, her words washing over me as I tried to calm my breathing. She hugged me tightly, kissed my forehead, and tucked me into bed, smoothing the covers over me. I was so upset from the spanking that I cried myself to sleep, the sting on my bottom a constant reminder of the lesson I’d learned.
The next day I spoke to Hannah – her dad had also given her bum a good, hard tanning and we girls both had trouble sitting comfortably in school that day. The memory of that day, the sounds, the sting, and the love behind the punishment, has stayed with me ever since.
