Chapter 2

For this chapter we go back to an earlier memory. Chapter one was a fantasy based on real events. It was my best estimate of what would have happened had I given back control to my mom. This one is a true story about events that occurred while I was still under her authority. It opens shortly after I turned 14, in September of 1980.

My aunt Sue and my cousins lived just down the street from us. It was common for us to all go to Sunday mass together and then go back to my house to spend the afternoon together. There is 1 boy, Rick, who is the same age as I, and his 3 sisters. This particular Sunday something had gotten into Rick and me, and we kept whispering to each-other and snickering all through mass. We were each warned more than once and just kept on doing it.

After mass Father Keller was talking with our moms, the 5 of us kids all right there listening to the conversation. He said, “This is one more reason it’s such a shame your husbands skipped out on you. These boys need a firm hand. I would like to offer my services. I have a belt I’ll take to their bare bottoms and teach them a good lesson. And not just today, I don’t mind at all disciplining them whenever they need it.”

Aunt Sue answered first. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’ll handle Rick myself.” She pointed out the belt she was wearing. “He’s going to get a good whipping alright.”

Mom was already spanking me less often, having instituted other punishments. I was hoping this time would be a grounding. No such luck. She had me by the shoulder and said, “And this one’s in for the paddle. Trust me, he will learn a lesson.”

Father Keller said, “It sounds like you have a handle on things. My offer stands, if you ever decide you need any help.”

Once we got back to the house mom and aunt Sue both just said, “You know what to do.” The girls watched the whole thing. This added humiliation was part of the punishment. The girls got off on watching us boys cry as we get our backsides lit up and turned reddish purple.

Aunt Sue was already taking her belt off. Rick was taking off his shoes so he could take off his pants and underwear. I went to get the paddle and brought it to mom. In the corner of the living-room there was a straight-back armless chair known colloquially as “the spanking chair.” Mom was sitting on it, legs slightly parted, when I handed her the paddle. Rick was bent over the arm of the couch getting whipped hard. I took off my shoes, pants, and underwear.

I could see the girls’ eyes focused right on my crotch. They were snickering, trying not to laugh. One said, just loud enough for me to hear, “It’s even smaller than Rick’s!”

I bent over mom’s knee. She held me down, pinning my legs in place with her leg, and proceeded to paddle the daylights out of me. Like I always did, I reached back and tried to block the paddle after the first few whacks. Mom knew just what to do about that. She grabbed my hand and pinned it to the small of my back. All the while she continued to paddle me with all of her considerable strength.

I was already humiliated enough. I tried so hard not to cry. I bit my bottom lip and squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the tears as long as I could. It only took maybe 20 swats or so before I couldn’t hold it in any more, I broke down and cried. I was fourteen years old, and my girl cousins were watching me being held over my mom’s knee, paddled on my bare bottom, crying like a baby. She kept on spanking me while I sobbed uncontrollably.

This was all pretty standard for when mom spanked me. So was what came next. She set down the paddle, let me loose, and guided me to my feet. She pulled a handkerchief from her purse and handed it to me to wipe my face and blow my nose. She hugged me tightly and said, “I love you, Michael. This was for your own good.”

I hugged her back. I was short enough, and she is tall enough, that even with her sitting and me standing my face was just below her collarbone. Not really in her breast, but breast-adjacent. Crying with my face right there against her I said, “I love you too.” My bruised bottom was on display for all to see.

Then she stood up and turned the chair around so it was facing a corner. She guided me to sit in it. “Now you just sit here, young man, and think about what you’ve done.” Still naked from the waist down, I sat in the corner and cried it out for about half an hour or so. Aunt Sue had already put another chair in a different corner and Rick was doing the same in it. He was allowed to get up and put his pants on shortly before I was.

Of course, our butts were very sore for more than a couple of days. That day all 3 girls kept smacking our sore bottoms. The smacks they gave us were solid and on the hard side, but not nearly at full-force. They heckled us roundly for being punished like that. For a few hours all 3 of them kept taunting both of us, giving us a smack here and there. Then Jenny really took it to far.

Jenny was the oldest one at 16. Laughing her ass off, she smacked each of my cheeks as hard as she could 3 times in rapid succession. She had given the right one a fourth. I grabbed her wrist with my right hand and then her shoulder with the other. I made her turn away from me. Still holding her shoulder I started smacking her bottom as hard as I could with my right hand. I said, “How do you like it!”

I had smacked each cheek once. I stopped abruptly when my mom said, “HEY!” We both looked at her. She was pointing at me and said, “This is your only warning!”

Finally aunt Sue spoke up. “That goes for you too, Jenny. Lay off.” She shot a stern look at each of the girls. “You all lay off. That’s enough.”

Fast forward a couple of months with no spankings.

Then report cards came out. The details of this particular report card are etched in my mind because what happened when I brought it home was so out of the ordinary. The report card itself was quite out of the ordinary, but this is one time what my mom did was just wrong. It would have been better just to spank me right then.

I had always been a smart kid and my grades usually reflected that. It had come to be expected, and I would be punished if my grades slipped. Out of 6 classes if there’s not at least 2 A’s that’s a paddling. If there are 2 C’s or more that’s a paddling. Anything below a C is a paddling. In short 2 A’s, 3 B’s and 1 C is the worst I can do and it still be acceptable. This time I had screwed around a lot instead of doing my work. There were no A’s. It was just 1 B, 3 C’s, and 2 D’s. Mostly my fault, I didn’t do the work.