A First Spanking

This incident has actually very little to do with me, but is really it is about a friend of mine when I was a schoolboy. There was a big difference between myself and Alan – I attended a Catholic school and was certainly no stranger to a sound, bare bottom spanking from one of the nuns, priests or any of the teachers.

By contrast, Alan had never been spanked in his life. He went to a different school than me and although they did use corporal punishment, it was not a very common event and he had avoided it. However, that all changed when we were about 13, and in a most dramatic way.

Alan’s mother had left home when he was quite a young boy and he lived with his father. The latter was a great guy, kind and fun to be around. I loved having sleepovers at their house and despite our naughtiness at times, Alan’s dad never gave his son anything more than ‘play’ spankings, which just made us laugh. I would even volunteer for one myself, just to join in with the fun and play out events that had happened at school. This would even sometimes involve me lowering my pyjamas and laughingly admitting that this was how I got it at school.

One day, Alan told me that his father’s girlfriend and her two daughters – both older than him – had come to live with them. He was worried, because his father told him that he had agreed his girlfriend should treat him Alan no differently to her daughters, whom she was accustomed to spank when necessary.

Alan was not sure at all about the girlfriend – he said she was strict and had already threatened him with a ‘very sore bottom’. To add to Alan’s woes, Vivienne – the elder of the two daughters – was always trying to get him into trouble, and teasing that he would get his bottom smacked until he cried.

Naturally, I felt very sorry for my friend, but there was nothing I could say that would alleviate his fears. Alan was fond of the younger sister, Maureen. She was kind to him but even she would laughingly tell him that she would rub his little bottom whenever he got spanked. Alan was quite a small boy for his age, not much over 4ft 6in, and in fact neither of us showed any outward signs of puberty, even though we were both over 13 by then.

It was after about a month or so of these two families being blended that I stayed for my first sleepover since the arrival of the newcomers. I came over straight from school and we played in Alan’s garden for quite some time.

It was a hot summer’s day and Alan suggested that he lend me some a pair of his swimming trunks so we could play in the family’s small pool. It was a great idea and I readily agreed. We undressed in his room and I heard him gasp as he caught sight of six red stripes across my bare and otherwise white bottom. I told him it did not hurt much now but I had received six strokes of the cane that morning from Mr Abril, the woodwork teacher.

I can’t remember now what I did to earn that beating – all I recall was having to touch my toes whilst Mr Abril applied his rattan cane to my bare bottom. The swimming trunks thankfully covered the marks on my bum, though, and we had a good time in the garden.

Maureen was there and while she did not come into the pool, she sat by the side and I think she just enjoyed watching us play. She eventually found a plastic ball, which she threw into the pool for Alan and I to play with, and we all laughed endlessly as us two boys fought over it.

Unfortunately, after a while Vivienne came along to watch us, and she began to taunt my friend. She mocked the way Alan swam, saying he could only do ‘doggie paddles’. She told Alan his trunks were ‘babyish’ because they had pictures on them. “Anyway,” she added, “they’re too small and I can most of your baby’s bottom.”

I could see Alan was getting upset by this teasing and his eyes were welling up. Vivienne noticed that too and came to the edge of pool, She leaned over and said: “Aw! Is baby going to cry?”

That was Alan’s breaking point. “Fucking shut up!” he yelled at the girl. In retrospect, of course, that was precisely what Vivienne wanted. She said nothing but turned around, went inside and emerged a few moments with her very angry looking mother.

She was a very tall, strong-looking woman and I cringed myself at the thought of getting a spanking from her. She stood with her arms on her hips and ordered out of the pool. He began to cry properly and, between sobs, pleaded not to be spanked, but his protestations fell on deaf ears.

The girls’ mother said nothing but took Alan firmly by the hand and led him inside. He looked so helpless – his lack of height being so apparent next to the woman, who was at least 6ft tall.

The rest of us children followed them inside and watched as the woman sat down on the couch and stood Alan next to her. She grabbed his swimming trunks and quickly lowered them to his ankles. Alan quickly covered his privates with his hands but it was too late – Vivienne giggled and muttered some comment about how young he looked for his age. Maureen stood beside me – she could see I was upset too and put her arm around me, whispering to me not to cry. Then a stern lecture began, as it was made clear to Alan that foul language would not be tolerated in the house.

It seemed an age before he was put across the woman’s knee – his head leaning over one side, his feet dangling over the other (and not reaching the ground) and his small bottom perched up on her lap. Her smacking hand seemed huge as it landed firmly and squarely covering each cheek; first one, then the other.

Alan desperately tried to twist and turn but the woman was holding him too firmly. He cried out and pleaded for her to stop but she was relentless, much to the glee of Vivienne, who wore a smug smile. My friend’s sobs became louder and Maureen whispered to me that the smacking must really be stinging because Alan’s bottom was still wet. I nodded and looked on as the smacks kept raining down on his by now bright red bum.

The woman definitely knew what she was doing – at times, she grasped Alan’s buttocks with her free hand so she could smack in the area where his bottom met the backs of his legs. I knew from my own experience this was the most tender spot for children to be smacked on, and indeed my friend cried loudest of all when she did that.

When it was over and he was finally allowed off the woman’s lap, Alan threw any remnants of dignity to the wind and stood there holding his stinging bum with both hands, fully exposed at the front.

Vivienne spoke up at that point, addressing her mother. “Thank you – I don’t like being spoken to like that by naughty little boys.” Her mum nodded in agreement and instructed Alan to go over and apologise to her daughter. He went to get back into his trunks first but that earned him a hard slap on each cheek and she said ‘now!’ Alan went over and apologised between sobs, then just ran off to his room.

I followed him, as indeed did Maureen. Alan was lying on his bed, still naked and sobbing. True to her word, Maureen went to sit next to him and gently began rubbing his sore bottom. This seemed to soothe him, and he began to push his bottom up into her comforting hands as she rubbed him.

Eventually the crying stopped and Maureen sat Alan on her lap, as though he was a much younger child. She cuddled him as he snuggled into her and she kissed his head. He didn’t seem to care that he was still naked, but was just enjoying the feminine comfort.

Eventually, Maureen said she had better go, but as she left she told Alan that he was a very brave boy, and that anyone would have cried over such a sound spanking.