Tom laughed and my mum was laughing at my predicament, knowing full well how sensitive my behind must already be from our earlier encounter. Then, I heard Tom’s mum say ‘come here, birthday boy’ and I presented myself for my second spanking of the day. It was finally quiet as we drove for that way for about a minute and my wife said "A good ** beating." It sounded like she was thinking out loud but no one said anything, I felt my face flush.

Predicting your mood was a constant gamble. Our evening might have gone wrong if I hadn't strapped you." Disliking her dilemma, she raised her arm, flipping a single die along the dining table. It bounced several times, rolling to a halt. One. Karen liked the strange feeling she felt (in a certain in a certain intimate area) at being exposed. The spit in her mouth had gone, her knees went weak as she saw Mummy swell before her taking a deep breath. Her eyebrow lifted and vanished beneath her fringe. She sat down, and opened the envelope. Karen felt aroused slightly, which made her feel even more of a naughty girl. But stood before Mummy as she scolded her was such a mixture of feelings. Her pubic hair had grown, it was now a delightful mixture of light fair hair with a hint of ginger, like her hair. The mirror of the dressing table was behind her, so Mummy could see her bottom, a bottom she was so proud of, like her new breasts, pert, and pleasingly plump.My wife was amazed and decided she'd found an answer. It's not often but when I get spanked my wife is serious and gets results!

He caressed her cheek and kissed her lips. She responded, grateful for his tenderness, and hot as hell. "I'm sorry," she murmured, tremors of guilt throbbing through her core. 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!”

Frequently I am exceedingly distressed to learn from the large number of letters I get from my readers that I am supposed to have said many things I have never said, some that I have tried very hard, indeed, to condemn. Mum took my hand to put me in position – and for the very first time, I had an extra thrill. Even though it was all in fun, Mum wasn’t smiling or laughing – she kept a straight face and mum actually put me across her knee as she might if I was a really naughty boy.

When married couples weren’t busy spanking each other, they often turned to their children. I’m not talking about small children, but their adult children. In 1913, a Cleveland judge decided it was okay for a father to spank his daughter, age twenty-five, with a shingle, of all things.

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She obeyed, her skin stretching taut, swamping her paddled bottom in a storm of fresh sting. Appalled by her prospective pain, she cherished his ruthless zeal. The Vicar at Saint Hugh’s Church used her as an example many times. “If you are not sure what to do, go and see her, she’ll have probably done it before, she’s marvellous!” Oh shit! Why today, why does she need a hug? Today of all days when I have let her down.” Thought Karen.