My True Spanking Story

by Phillip

This is a true story, just as I remember it, from a time when I was about 8 or 9.

Mum and I were staying for a week with her friends in Cornwall for a holiday. Mum’s friend Liz had three girls, all older than me. This day, my ‘Auntie’ had taken my older brother and her eldest daughter away for the day, leaving me, my Mum, and the two girls, Suzanne and Catherine (about 10 and 12 I guess) , and we were having lunch.

Though only a little older than me, two girls were more mature, and were quite loud and confident. I was a very shy little thing and quite in awe of them. They used to say ‘adult type’ things that I didn’t understand (such as “Football is disgusting, all those men going about in short trousers !”) I was very conscious of trying to act grown up in their presence.

The kitchen was a large one, and we three kids were sitting on high stools around a sort of breakfast bar that they had. The kitchen also had a bay window with window seats with cushions.

My mum was cooking lunch for us. She is a gentle ‘mumsy’ sort who had a rather condescending way with children. I knew from old, though, that it wasn’t a good idea to cross her. She was cooking us cheese on toast, and the two girls asked for lemonade. When their mum got them lemonade, they always had real lemon juice and a slice of lemon and some sugar added. Mum made this for them, but they had to direct her to all the ingredients and give her instructions. Mum was getting a bit frustrated not in her own kitchen, wanting to see to the children but finding the girls a bit demanding. While Mum was making the lemonade, the cheese on toast started to burn and the two girls laughed. One whispered something to the other one and they both laughed again. My Mum (who hated rude children) plonked the lemonade down in front of them, and Suzanne took a sip and sort of grimaced like it was horrible.

I could tell that Mum was getting annoyed with the girls, and I wondered if she’d speak sharply to them, but she just glowered. The girls started to giggle.

Mum said “Would you like some more sugar, Dear ?” to Suzanne, in a slightly strained sing-song sort of voice, as if to a much younger child (I guess now that she was trying to keep her annoyance in check)

“Would you like some more sugar, Dear ?” said Catherine in an exagerrated sing-song, and both of the girls rocked with laughter on their stools. I knew that Mum was very angry now, and humiliated being the butt of the laughter, and I wondered if the girls would get into trouble. Also, though, I was excited and wanted to join in the fun. For some reason, and quite out of character (I normally wouldn’t say boo to a goose), I piped up:

“Would you like some more sugar, Dear ?”

The girls laughed at my joke, but while I was looking at them laughing I felt a hand on my upper arm lifting me right off of my stool. Mum held my arm tightly while she looked me in the eye.

“You … Ever So Rude … Boy!”

I think she held me there for a few seconds, while she pondered what to do, and in the end succumbed to the temptation to redeem herself in front of the girls. I was frogmarched to the window seat, where she sat down and pulled me towards her holding me in front of her by the arms until my face was right up close to hers, which had a grim look of determination. She didn’t say a word, but transferred both my wrists into her left hand, as her right hand undid the front of my shorts. When I realised I was about to have my trousers taken down, a huge sense of anger and injustice rose up in me. I hadn’t done anything the girls hadn’t done, and I definitely didn’t deserve this. I started to wriggle and wrestle for all I was worth because I wasn’t going to take the shame of a spanking. I broke her grip on my hands by pulling them apart and went to pull my shorts up again. Not really fighting my Mum, but trying to back away and push her away.

She wasn’t strong enough to keep hold both my hands in one of hers without my co-operation, but she stood up and wrapping one arm around my upper body, to pin both my arms she managed to hold me in a bent over position while I felt my shorts being pulled down, and me being transferred to over her knee with remarkable swiftness and held firmly. The very few times she’d spanked me (the last time had been about 2 years previously) when I was younger had always been on the bare bottom, but I was pretty sure that, now I was older, and with the girls in the room, she’d leave my pants up and at least she’s spare me the full experience.

Being face downwards I didn’t know for sure the state of my undress, but a sense of coldness sent a jolt of shame though my body and the unmistakable feel of a hard slap on my bottom directly from a hand quickly confirmed the full horror that it was once again my bare bottom that was the target of her discipline.

I guess I got another five or so hard slaps which I don’t remember actually hurting much, but the sense of shame, and injustice was very vivid indeed. After a little while, with a monumental effort I sort of wriggled off her knee, maybe crying or calling out, with outrage rather than pain and I twisted my body as hard as I could, managed to spring off her knee and towards the door to run away from her.

She caught me by the door to the kitchen, held me in a grip of iron, and I thought she might take me back to the window seat and over her knee again, but what she did was this: She marched me back to where the girls were still sitting on their stools with my trousers still down and me, in tears now, desperately pulling up my pants with my one free hand. I think I just about got my pants up to cover my modesty by the time that we reached the girls and Mum held me there, by one arm from the back in right in front of them for a couple of seconds. Then my other hand was caught by the wrist and yanked off my pants. By this time I had stopped resisting and was just crying. Then both hands hoisted high above my head in one of Mum’s hands. I guess that she was paying me back for having the temerity to struggle with her, because she wasn’t finished. My normally gentle and mild mother then pulled my pants back down again. She held me upright by my hands facing the girls and there, with my pants around my bony knees, my red face and penis on display right in front of her audience of two, ignored my crying and begging and delivered three more smacks to my wriggling bottom with her free hand.


I clearly remember looking at Suzanne and Catherine’s faces while I tried to twist my body to at least try to turn to face Mum. They had stopped laughing and they were a bit frightened by the sudden show of adult power (perhaps they even thought they were going to be next), but also clearly fascinated. I remember Suzanne putting her hand to cover her mouth. My Mum seemed to be saying to them “You may have laughed at me, but look ! I have the power to do this – and I have power over that !” referring to the little willy on display before them and from which they couldn’t take their eyes. While of course, she was giving the girls a show they would enjoy and rewarding their rudeness to her, Mum was at least back in control. The fact that it was clearly unjust just underlined that she was the one who controlled the events. An adult who had the power over the children. The final act in the drama was that I was spun around (bottom visible to girls I’m sure) while Mum pulled up my pants from in front of me. She made comforting noises to me as I stood there while she did this, back to her more usual mumsy self.

We finished our lunch and the girls ate quietly, and there was no more giggling or sniggering, suddenly it was best behaviour. As soon as they’d finished eating they trotted out of the room, no doubt to discuss the events of the lunchtime together in private. Catherine turning her head and smiling broadly at me as I sat there unable to eat anything and just wanting to get away to go into an enormous sulk.

For the rest of the holiday, Mum was very nice to me and so was ‘Auntie’ Liz. I did have to endure hearing Catherine excitedly tell her older sister, and my older brother about the episode, though. I remember her saying “Auntie Pam pulled his pants down and his trousers!” and I remember thinking “You’ve got that in the wrong order, you silly cow!”.

“Did you see it ?” said Caroline with an expression of distate to emphasise the last word, Suzanne and Catherine both nodded. “It was little !” said Catherine with a giggle ! Caroline looked at me and grimaced “eugh!”. My brother said something about me being young enough to still get a spanking.

I remember that she started her account with “Philip was naughty and ….” which was a bit rich, given her own part in the build up.

Well, that’s my story. I was never spanked again (as a child, that is!) !