The Ritual of Discipline Part 7 The Spanking

Satisfied that I am properly prepared, mother pulls me to her right side.
I shuffle, trying not to trip because of my panties encircling my ankles!
I look down at the skirt clad lap below me. Time to go over!
She half hauls, half pushes me over her lap. I kind of resist, but dare not! I place my hands on the floor on her left side and lower my bottom on to her lap.
How hard the linoleum feels on my elbows and knees, and how soft does her lap feel on the front of my hips!
She carefully adjusts my hips so that my bottom is idealy placed for a sound smacking. I clasp my fingers together, to ensure my hands don’t stray over my bottom to provide protection, press my head on to the floor, squeeze, and clench my buttocks as tight together as I can, to make as small a target as posible, and pray for deliverance! -it never came! -lol!
As mother gazes down she lectures some more then raises her right hand and “SMACKKKKK!” brings it down full across both the widest plumpest portion of both cheeks.
No matter how often I am spanked, nothing can prepare me for the pain of that first smack! I try to imagine what it will be like, but when it arrives it is alweays 10 times worse than I remembered!
The cane and strap are even worse-if that is possible! Mother starts up a steady rythm of lecturing and spanking.
I always try to be brave, but as the spanking continues and the pain increases I start to blubber, then really cry!
I am aware initially that my bros and sisters wil be listening -I have heard them in distress often myself- but with the pain I really do not care what they hear!
From my own experience I know now that mother smacked until her hand was too uncomfortable to continue.
She then picked up the hairbrush from the side of the bath and delivered a few vigorous splatts all over my bottom and halfway down my thigh.
The pain is so bad, my fingers release and my hand shoots back to cover.
Mother pauses, and says “Megan!- 2 seconds to move that!” “One… Two!!” CRACK!! I was too slow and feel the pain lancing up my arm from the crack on the knuckles she gives me.
My hand withdraws rapidly and I hold it tightly with my other as the hairbrush continues its round of my buttocks and highs.
By the time she finally stops, my crying is hoarse and I am one well punished young lady!