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That remark stung, probably because it was so true. In my depressed state, I had done no housework since a few days before Lucille’s demise, and the house had reached a condition that would certainly have earned me a very severe paddling over Lucille’s knee if I ever let it get even a tenth as sloppy while she was still alive. There was not a doubt in my mind she meant what she said, and I scurried off to Lucille’s study, where her wooden paddle hung behind the closet door. I had no problem finding it; I’d been sent to fetch it often enough by my late wife. And I realized I was shaking with dread and the slightest dawning of sexual arousal that often accompanied these situations, at least in the beginning moments before the reality of a spanking took over. I can’t, can’t I?” Vera said, a glint of purpose in her eye. “Shall we put that statement to the test?”
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Rising, pumped full of respect, she said, "I'm sorry. I'll be an absolute delight tonight. Thank you for strapping me. I'm sorry you needed to. Thank you for only using our discipline strap." Well, Simon, what have you been up to?” she asked. Before I could open my mouth, it became clear that this was a question not really aimed at me, as Mum described my misbehaviour, adding to the list one or two little sins I thought had been ignored or forgotten. At that, Katie ran out into the garden to tell Mother and to show her the mark on her arm. Mother came in and asked me why had I hit my sister. I thought I could worm my way out of this tight corner – and even if not, the consequences would not be that bad either way as I was nearly 15.Boy, was I wrong! The demise of her spanking brush seemed to anger Mother even further, and reaching down, she removed the hard-soled sandal from her right foot. Then she proceeded to thrash me into the next week. It was the school holidays – probably half term, and we had just finished our evening meal. All us kids were on a rota for mealtime chores – one would lay the table, one would clear away the dishes and the other two would wash and dry them. These arrangements alternated daily. A lawyer, in charge of his firm's dress code, uses his position to administer corporal punishment. (2,360 words.) Why haven’t you taken his pants down?” Doreen asked with interest. “Oh my dear, that’s far too vulgar.”“But you used to cane Rory on his bare bottom?”“Ah that’s different – he’s my son, whereas this one is merely in my charge. I’ve no desire to see what he’s got down there! But pants up nice and tight, and we have a perfect view. Now we’ll see who’s boss, young man!” The Davenports departed, well nourished and infused with confidence. She relayed her private conversation with Mrs. Davenport to Mark.
Fiction: How my life changed Ch 1, General | FictionPress
Opening his other palm, he revealed two green dice. "You'd rather I imposed my judgment on you, but you're going to gamble on your punishment. Roll one die to decide your protection." One day, I was out playing in the garden. Mum was there too and talking over the fence to our left-hand neighbour, who I called Auntie Deirdre (the writer of the other story has already pointed up this rather peculiarly British tradition). She was in her 50s and had two grown-up children. The journey to the end of the day was like some heroic trek in a fantasy novel. Long and arduous. The lunch time collection of the ‘death sentence’ sent a cold shiver to her tummy. The words left the slip and ran amok in her brain. There before her the words threatened her bottom. I could feel the blood rushing to my head and sheer panic beginning to set in. I knew that I would be in serious trouble if I owned up to the accident. After pondering my dilemma for a while, I eventually decided to show my mother the toy but sat that I had found it on the upstairs landing, already broken.
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As I say, I was a good boy for a long time, but such is the nature of small boys that they can’t be good for too long. I forget exactly what I had done naughty, but one afternoon, soon after I got home from school, Mum exploded on me and said: “Right – I’m ringing Auntie Deirdre!” I begged her not to but she was having none of it. She scooted her wheelchair over to the telephone and made the call. It was a relatively short one. Right at this moment I knew what was coming. I knew what was going to happen. He had already warned us that the worst punishment he could give to a really rude behavior (as fighting or cursing) was the bare bottom spanking (it was actually a rather common punishment used by teachers in our school). He had already threatened some of us (mostly girls curisously).
Shona’s knickers - Maman: spanking memories: mothers Shona’s knickers - Maman: spanking memories: mothers
I began a half-hearted attempt at straightening things up, but I couldn’t get into it, and I ended up sitting mindlessly on the couch in front of the TV for most of the rest of the afternoon. There wasn’t anything interesting on, but it didn’t really matter. Next weekend, I’ll be moving out of my apartment and into the master bedroom here,” Vera stated as I copied what she’d written. “Make certain it is ready for me. You may take one of the boys’ rooms. I’ll need to be near my sister’s records, and all her other responsibilities, if I’m to do an adequate job with them.”Mildred was walking by, the strains of the spanking symphony drifted through the window turning into a cocophony of sound, hard whups! and long, long howls of pain! She nodded satisfactorily. “Good old Mummy, keeping up the standards, that’ll teach her!”
The Library of Spanking Fiction Blog | Spanking Stories
Tom stayed for tea. I sat uncomfortably. Mum caught my eye on and off and smiled knowingly. Dad came home and asked me how my day had been. I told him it had been the best birthday ever – which was true. By now really embarrassed, I went a bit further up the garden so I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but then my mother shouted at me: “Simon! Come here!” Oh shit! Why today, why does she need a hug? Today of all days when I have let her down.” Thought Karen. I was so chuffed to see my first story published on Maman, I thought I’d strike while the iron was hot and the memories fresh – so here is what happened next! My mum has a regular line she uses: “You were such a cheeky, funny, handsome, naughty little boy – how did it go so wrong?” Thanks, Mum!
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Mother looked grim. “Well, it was certainly one of you, wasn’t it? I’m going to count to three and if the person who did this is not stood in front of me with their hand up, you’re all in for it!’” The count to three seemed to go on for ages – we all looked worried and nervous as to what would happen next. Thinking about all the pleasure I gave the teacher and the boys made me feel and still makes me feel so enraged, you know... It's like a never-ending feeling. And I can't do nothing about it. Nothing.
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