It was only on rare occasions that my mothers spanked me and my three older sisters. Nevertheless, we all did get our share of smacked bottoms while we were growing up.

 

Mother had to be very angry at us all to bring out the paddle she kept for our bottoms. I expect that it was because of this anger she was cautious about smacking our bottoms straight away. In nearly all cases she would send us up to our bedroom to wait for her to come and administer the punishment in due course.

 

My mother was a smoker, and she would almost always have a cigarette before she came upstairs with the paddle. In later years she told us all that it was the cigarette that helped her to calm down, assess the situation properly, and make sure she did not go too far and harm us when administering punishment.

 

For whichever one of us who was facing chastisement the waiting was the worst part. In our home the other siblings would usually go very quiet, and the house would descend into an eerie silence so whoever it was who was about to be smacked would hear more a less everything that was happening downstairs as well as up.

 

I can vividly remember many times sitting on my bed, waiting to be dealt with, and hearing the distinct scratch of the match against its box as Mother lit up her cigarette. Before too long, the strong scent of tobacco would waft upstairs and reach my nose. I knew then before too long  I would be sitting very gingerly on a sore bottom,

 

Mother took her time with her cigarette, but inevitably it was only a few minutes before her heavy footsteps were heard on the stairs. There would be a very brief diversion to her own bedroom to pick up the paddle from the drawer where she kept it. Then your own door would open and you knew the time of execution was upon you.

 

“Stand up!” would be the first words Mother ordered and she entered the room.  This would be followed by something along the lines of, “and if you know what’s good for you you will do as you are told!”

 

Most of the time your eyes would be fixated on the paddle whilst thinking how much it was going to hurt your behind in a few moments.

 

The paddle itself was an old Jokari Paddle and pretty much covered the whole of your bottom in one swat.

 

Mother would then take my place on the bed, draw me towards her and ready me for my spanking. This would also consist of a lecture to concentrate the mind. All the while, you could smell cigarette smoke lingering on her clothing.

 

Finally, Mother would say: “Very well then, you know the drill.” That would be the signal for you to lay across her lap. Again you did not want to hesitate let alone disobey.

 

There was a little moment of adjustment whilst she got you into the position she deemed appropriate for the chastisement. After this, it was all about the spanking.

 

As I say we were rarely spanked but when we were we were spanked good. The spanking never lasted less than five minutes across my mother’s knee and often this would be longer.

 

Naturally, I would be crying your eyes out before it was over, making promises of better behavior in the future.

Mother always expected tears as well as an apology. After this you would be hugged and all would be forgiven and forgotten.

 

I have never smoked myself, and even today I find the smell of tobacco quite triggering.  The smell instantly transports me back to the past where I am in my formative years waiting to go over my mothers knee,