It was embarrassing and difficult for me to talk about but Mum gently coaxed it out of me.
Eventually, she said: “Well, maybe a trip over my knee will cure your curiosity and put an end to all those questions.
If you still want a smacked bottom, I’ll take you into my room after dinner – but I’m warning you it won’t be fun and there will probably be tears.
You think about it, sweetheart.”
She opened her arms for a hug, and as we embraced she patted my bottom.
“You’re a good boy – but sometimes even good boys need a spanking.”
She kissed me on the cheek and sent me on my way with two firm smacks to the seat of my trousers.
When dinner was over, Mum asked me, very quietly so no-one else could hear, if I had changed my mind.
I shook my head no and she got to her feet.
She then told the rest of the family she was going to take me upstairs for a spanking.
They were to clean up the kitchen, put the dishes in the dishwasher and she’d let them know when it was OK to come up.
Until then, they were to remain downstairs.
Mum firmly took my hand and led me upstairs.
I stared at her legs as I followed behind –
I was both nervous and excited.
Up in her room, Mum sat on the bed.
She told me quietly but firmly:
“You’ve made your decision – now I’m going to give you a smacked bottom.