I asked how long she had spanked me for. Mum had no idea. She said she had just spanked me until she felt the time was right to stop, mother’s instinct maybe.
I told her it had hurt in a way that I didn’t expect, that I couldn’t really explain, but I was glad I had at least, at last, experienced a spanking. We had a long hug. She ruffled my hair and kissed my head.
Over the years which followed, there were one or two references made back to that day – always in jest: threats of perhaps I needed a reminder of what a spanking felt like, or the promise of a good spanking across her knee, if I wasn’t careful, for being cheeky. However, these were idle, light-hearted threats, never to be carried out.
I still see one or two of the old gang now and then. Ironically, to this day not one of them know that I received that spanking!