Recently Reminisced With My Twin Sister About Childhood Spankings
My twin sister and me grew up and in a very conservative, religious area of the South during a time several decades ago when it was very common for parents to give bare bottom spankings to their kids when their children’s’ behavior went outside the boundaries they’d set, so growing up and into early adulthood several decades ago as a mischievous brother and sister pair we got plenty of spankings, not only because it was so widespread among the community that it was almost universal, but also because our parents were evangelical Christians who didn’t believe in sparing the rod. The spankings we received were not only bare bottomed but bare bodied, too. (I should probably add that my dad was the parent who delivered them to me, and my mom the one who gave them to my sister).
And so when we misbehaved, we used to have to go down in our basement directly into the laundry room (so that the sound of a bare butt getting spanked and the scolding and the pleading and the crying that accompanied it didn’t disturb whoever was upstairs), in order to get stripped naked, lectured, and to get (most of the time) a handspanking, or, on much rarer occasions, when we were really in trouble, a paddling, both delivered while we were lying over their lap as they sat on a chair. (It was a finished basement, so it wasn’t like they were taking us down to a dimly lit storage space).
My dad had a routine that he always followed from that point on until my last spanking, a week before I graduated from high school.I guess this to let me know that no matter how grown I thought that I was getting, I was still under his authority, and not too old for a good old fashioned bare bottom spanking. He would pull another chair out across from him and tell me to sit down. Then he’d talk with me and point out how my misbehavior needed to be corrected, because whatever it was that I did to break the rules wasn’t acceptable, and that he was going to have to teach me a lesson. He was really brief when he spoke. He’d say “Stand up.” I got up and then he did, pulling my chair away to the side. He’d say “Shirt off.” and then pull my shirt up over my head and off, and toss it away from him. He’d sit back down on the bed and grab the waistband of my pants, pull me toward him, stop me close enough to him so that he all he had to do was barely extend his arms and say “Stand over here. “ He’d unbutton and unzip my pants and pull them all the way down to my ankles, then say “Step out of those.” and once I did, throw them to the side too Then he’d say “Underwear off.” and pull them all the way down and off of me, then he’d throw them to the side. And then he would look me up and down, grab onto my wrist and say “Over my knee.” which since he was sitting on the bed, actually meant over his lap with my upper body resting over the rest of the bed beyond where he sat. He would give me one hard swat with his hand, rest it on my bare butt for a few seconds while saying “When are you going to learn to....” and then say the behavior that I was supposed to do, but didn’t. Then the spanking would begin.
Both our mom and dad were (and still are) taller than my sister and me, powerfully built from outdoor labor growing up, and had pretty large hands. And so their handspankings were always delivered with a level of intensity that was very hard and very, very thorough, enough to always leave us crying afterward, but not to the point where we were sobbing uncontrollably. Both of us received our last spankings when we were 18 1/2, , and by that point when we got a handspanking, we would get 90 swats, and were literally OTK for very close to a minute. It would take us awhile to be able to sit down without feeling a throbbing sensation, and we had to situate our bottoms in whatever we were sitting on or in kind of gingerly until it diminished. If I moved around on my dad’s lap, which I often did, he’d say, “Be still!”, and if I couldn’t, he’d lock one of his legs around both of mine.
But it was getting a paddling we that we both really dreaded. On those rare occasions that we did get paddled, the type of paddle our parents used was one that had a wide, thin, rectangular striking surface that landed with what sounded like a meaty slap that was very localized and left a very sharp burning sting. And there were two paddles . One had my name on it, and was used by my dad on me, and the other had my sister’s name on it, and was used on her by my mom. Both paddles had a little hole drilled in the bottom with a tiny thong loop threading through it, and they hung on pegs attached to the side of the refrigerator by magnets with our names front and center for anyone to see. We got the same number of swats as a handspanking. And although the level of intensity at the beginning of each paddling was maybe about half of that of a handspanking, my parents were still making firm contact with each swat, and as our bare a**** quickly became acclimated to that level of contact they’d ratchet up the forcefulness pretty quickly until the last part of the spanking went well beyond tolerable (though not unbearable; we never had a mark, bruise, or welt on us afterward). And you just didn’t sit down the rest of the day once the paddling was finished, because your ass was sore as h***, very tender, very sensitive to any sort of pressure or contact, very, very red, and throbbing continuously for a long time afterward, even more so then when we got swatted by their big hard hands, and we would just be sobbing well before the spanking was finished. We ate more than a few dinners standing up at the counter. If it was right before bedtime we would put our robes back once the spanking was finished and we’d gotten ourselves together, then take them off and get right into bed naked once we got to our rooms where we’d fall asleep on our tummies on top of the covers, because you didn’t want anything to come into contact with your bare ass after it had been burnt up like that. having to be nude for a spanking definitely made me and my sister think more than twice about our behavior, that’s for sure!