It was one of these days. I, Nathan, who was visiting the mall with his mother, was bored to death and mom seemed to go on forever, leading us from store to store. Suddenly my mother took us into the clothing department because she had just seen a “nice” dress for me. Once inside the store, I suddenly felt that I couldn’t take this “torture” anymore. It was time to protest. I told mum that I wanted to go home and that I refused to try any clothes today. Although this was quite some years ago, I lived in a middle class white family where rising kids was done in a liberal fashion. Protesting wildly was normally free from risk, especially for us older kids (me and my sister Laura who was 12). Mum and dad seemed to be more strict with the younger ones (Andy, 7 and Martin, 5) who from time to time got their bottoms warmed when crossing the line. But today was the day when such matters would be way different.
Well, mummy said, I’d guess we’ll buy you new clothes another day. Mum then continued to the next store, but I decided to end this shopping tour by continuing my protests. “I WANT TO GO HOME, NOW!!!” I screamed and I was putting on my brattiest behaviour possible. Everybody around looked at us and it must have been a great shame for mum, who remained silent continued to the next store, and the next and the next, with me continuing complaining and screaming at her for the whole mall to hear. When inside the tea-shop, suddenly my senses burst, and from my lips came words that I immediately regretted saying: “I WILL NEVER FOLLOW YOU OUT SHOPPING AGAIN, YOU OLD BITCH”.
I don’t know why I said it but I did, didn’t I, furthermore for the entire store full of say 14-15 customers, to hear. Mom stopped what she was doing and nailed her eyes into me. “What did you say?” “N-n-nothing”, I whispered, my face turning beet red. Several customers in the shop came to my mothers support and most of them looked very angry. One lady in the 50’s also nailed me with her eyes and said: “You are the worst kid I ever saw, If you were my boy I would have made completely sure you’d never say anything like that again”. Another very angry-looking black lady, accompanied by her smirky-faced daughter 1 or 2 years younger than me, said something that made butterflies fly around my stomach.: “If you were my kid, I would have spanked your bare bottom right here and now”. A man in the same age said to my mother: “You shouldn’t accept such words from your kid. I think he should be given a lesson right away.” My mother just stood there with her head down looking sad and for one moment I forgot about my own predicament and felt sorry for her.
My thoughts however were rapidly going back to my own situation, since I heard humming voices around me saying words like: “punished”, “astonishing”, “outrageous”, “his bottom smacked”. I knew something was going to happen and I feared the worst. Suddenly I was ripped from my thoughts when I felt my ear getting twisted and I was being dragged a few meters away. It was my mother dragging me. It seemed she had suddenly got new powers from somewhere. “Ow, mom it hurts”, I whined, and then mom reached for a chair and sat down on it with me in front of her. Then she started to give me the lecture of my young life, containing sentences like “How dare you call me something like that?”, “Don’t you have the least shame?”, finishing off with “I will make sure you’ll never insult me in public again, young man. Because you are going to get the spanking of your life right here and now”. My heart dropped. I stammered something like “I’m too old” (it was actually 2 years since my last spanking), “please don’t do it”, “I’m sorry”. In the meantime, more people had gathered and I guess 20-25 people were standing watching my predicament. Making my worst fears come true, one boy and two girls from my class were there too.
Mom bent me down over her knee and continued lecturing me for a minute. Then she started to lay down hand-spanks on my jeans-clad bottom. THWACK, THWACK, THWACK, THWACK. I was lying there silently crying, mostly from the shame. Mom was spanking me in front of so many people, and I guess half of them were children. Suddenly mom rised me and wiped a tear from my face, saying “Save your tears my boy, because you’ll need them in a minute or two. I’m going to make completely sure you’ll never ever defy me in public again, do you understand?”. I felt mom’s hand undoing the zipper of my pants. MY GOD, SHE IS GOING TO PULL MY TROUSERS DOWN!!! I panicked and started resisting. Mom smacked my hands away, but my fingers were there again to stop her. Then she smacked my face, and said: “One more time and you’ll regret you ever lived this day”. I didn’t reflect on what she meant. I mean what could be worse than this? Anyway, I just fell into tears and louder crying, feeling my zipper being undone and my trousers lowered to my ancles. I was again put over mommy’s knee and the spanks started to rain down on my underpants. It stung like mad and i started begging her to stop. THWAP, THWAP, “Please mom”, THWAP, THWAP, THWAP, “Stop it”, “I promise to be good!” THWAP, THWAP. After 1 or 2 minutes of underpants spanking, I was risen up again and I felt mothers eyes right through me. “Never ever will you call me things like that again. Do you hear me?” For a second I thought the punishment was over, boy was I wrong!
Still 20-25 people were gathered (at lease half of them were there from the start, knowing the reason for my punishment), adults still looking angry but also satisfied to seeing me get what I deserved, kids having that special satisfied smirk upon their faces, but also 2 girls actually looking sorry for me. It was then, I felt moms fingers at the waistband of my underpants. Since mom tried to lower my underpants while I was still standing up, I automatically threw myself over her knee to protect my privates from being put on display for everyone to see. Simultaneously, my fingers were immediately at the waistband to prevent her from fullfilling embarrassing me to death. “NOOOOO”, I screamed and it followed a small fight.
Being spanked bare bottom in public is probably every kid’s worst nightmare, but for me it was even worse. I had the misfortune of having a very big birthmark (a so called “mongolian mark”) covering one third of my otherwise perfectly normal and plump right buttock. The birthmark has an irregular form and a dark-brown colour, almost violet on its outer side. It’s placed mainly on the lower part of the buttock, but with two about half-inch wide, three inches long “fingers” stretching upwards passing the middle of the buttock . Of course I had a very big complex for this mark. I had miraculously always succeeded in hiding it from the eyes of my boy-classmates when in the shower after physical exercise, by constantly covering myself with a towel or having my bottom against the wall. Now this secret was threatened and I wish there was a hole in the ground for me to fall into.
Mom and I struggled and my underpants went up and down, putting my bottom on display for fractions of a second before I temporarily succeeded in replacing the tissue over my bottocks (being especially concerned about the right one). At last, the inevitable happened. Mom won the fight and my underpants went down to the ancles, putting my lily-white bottom with its huge birthmark on display for everyone to see. I was kicking and screaming like mad, which must have had the only effect of showing my plump little buttocks on display from all possible and impossible angles, most probably including the sight of my little pucker. This violent behaviour was ongoing although mom still hadn’t started spanking yet. Maybe she was only pulling herself together for a few seconds – a long period for me in this situation when I, through my own screams and kicks could hear words like “he’s really going to get it now”, “oh my, look at his birthmark”, “what did he say to his mother?”, “… deserves a good reddening…”.
I felt mom’s hand resting on my bare bottom for a second, followed by a rapid rain of hard and imprinting handspanks on my bare cheeks. SLAP, “Quit it you…”, SMACK, “You have no right…”, SMACK, “Aaarrghhh…” SPANK. If I’d screamed and kicked like crazy before, I for sure didn’t do it with less enthusiasm now. My screams turned from mad and angry into more and more getting the character of begging and apologizing again. SMACK, “I promise to be good…”, SLAP, “Please mom, it stings sooo bad…”, SMACK, “I’ll never do it again…”, SLAP, “Ouaaahhhh…”, SMACK. My bottom stung like crazy and mom kept on for several minutes, meanwhile giving me short lectures about how to behave in public. Suddenly a short pause and then I felt the smacks continuing, but now with a hairbrush. It stung so much and I was doing a crazy dance on my mommy’s knee, trying to make my buttocks smaller and getting away from the spanks, but of course to no avail. The hairbrush found its twin little round targets again and again and again. Finally the spanking was over. I think it lasted for 10 minutes and I was lying helplessly over my mothers knee, with my well-whipped bottom on full display. I didn’t even protest, but just sobbed uncontrollably when mom stood me up naked from waist down, made me step out of my trousers and underpants and made me go around and apologize for everyone in the crowd who witnessed my behaviour and its consequences.
Coming home, I was sent to bed without supper, and I was almost immediately falling into sleep in the early evening hour. But before sleeping, I watched my bottom in the mirror. It was a sorry sight. Red and sore all over and even a few places were the skin was almost broken. My birthmark was also in a different colour now, the previously dark-brown area had got a vivid and angry red-brownish tone. I fell asleep on my tummy that night.
The first day at school was a nightmare. My predicament in the mall was on everyones tongues and I was tortured that day with questions and talk about what had happened. Also the following weeks, the other kids’ attitudes towards me was very bad, and I cried myself to sleep during the evenings. I lost my friends, except my best friend Steven. I realized that I was marked forever. After two months came news that were very welcome. Daddy had got a new job in another town far away from this town (were we had lived just 1 ½ years). So within 2 weeks from that, we moved and I changed school. I got new friends immediately and do I have to say hat noone ever got to know about what had happened that day in the mall in my previous hometown. Another thing that I shouldn’t have to say, is that my attitude towards my parents dramatically improved after that incident.