Chapter 1

It never occurred to me when I was young and going to a junior college while living at home that I didn’t live in a so called modern family. I can recall when I was in my late teens and got into trouble with my mother. My father was in the military and had been sent aboard for six months. He was not in a dangerous assignment so we didn’t worry about his safety.

After Dad left, I decided that smoking would show my college classmates how much of a woman I was, and improve my chances of getting dates with the guys. The trouble was cigarettes cost money, and my allowance didn’t include the cost of buying a pack of smokes every week. That was when my mom’s purse came to my attention and how it seemed to always have the amount of loose change to complete my purchase. At first it was just small amounts like fifteen or twenty cents, but one day I found myself short the entire cost of a dollar.

Normally I would have put off buying cigarettes, but I had arranged to meet with friends. In the midst of those friends stood one particular boy I wanted to go out with at the earliest opportunity. In my mind and dreams he would become my husband, sire my children and his body would look the same at sixty as he did at the age of nineteen.

There was the problem though, he was over a year older than me, and I had to have those cigarettes to prove I was a real woman. I spotted my mother’s purse lying on the coffee table. Mom had stepped out to speak with the neighbor, who by the way was the biggest gossip on the base. It was easy without disturbing the actual position of the purse to slide my hand down inside into the open wallet, grab a dollar and pull my hand out. The purse remained in the exact position it had been placed in, nothing looked out of place.

Slipping into the yard I told mom I would be visiting friends and the time I would be back. The dollar lay flat in my pants pocket, giving the impression there was nothing hiding there. With a reminder about the curfews my father set below he left and how it was best to make sure I followed it. Easy to remember about my curfew as the day after my father left on assignment mom warmed my butt enough for me to recall it every time I sat down for two days. Mom was never averse to spanking me. Dad had been gone barely two weeks when she paddled me for back talking when I should have been listening.

Despite that I went out the front gate with a large smile on my face. I would have guaranteed the boy would be suitably impressed. I never made it to the party. Not knowing my mom and the neighbor were discussing going to the same store where I went to purchase the cigarettes, I couldn’t think of anything else besides what I would say to the boy as I took deep breathes, inhaling the smoke without a single cough. I was in junior college and on a military base one never knew how long before your family or the boy’s might be transferred out, or your friends left to attend university.

The only cough that day was the one behind me as I paid the cashier in the store. I glanced up in the mirror by the cashier and saw the neighbor and my mother staring just a few feet behind me.

My mom’s face showed her anger, but to her credit she didn’t display it in front of others. Her voice left little doubt who was in charge. “Gwyn, you best be home when I get there. We’re driving, so you better run fast. Go!” Pointing to the exit door left me with the excuse to leave before any people in the store knew what was going on.

I heard the car pull in the driveway and the car doors close. The neighbor offered to send her husband over, but the offer was declined. This was a military base so corporal punishment was the common method of discipline for children and teenagers in those years. The fact I would be spanked was no surprise to anyone. If there was to be a surprise, it would be that I didn’t get spanked, but that wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t know spankings never or rarely happened in a so called modern family.

Considering my age my father would have handled my situation if he was home, however mom had proved capable of subbing in for him. Mom doesn’t believe in wasting time when she came in. “Take those clothes off and get the paddle! Be ready before I finish putting these things away. I want to know where the money came from. You were down to your last few cents yesterday, so you better have a good explanation.” She didn’t tell me she had figured where the dollar came from when she was seeking change to split the bill at the store.

I stripped really fast. My blouse and pants neatly folded on one of the chairs well before mom entered my room. I had pulled the wooden chair used when disciplining me into the middle of the room. I wasn’t sure what mom would do, so I stood beside it with my head bowed. I couldn’t help remembering the time when I was eleven and came home early from school one day to find my parents at home and the chair in the middle of the room. I tried to think of why I deserved punishment, but Dad quickly put the chair back in its corner. At the age of eleven I never figured out why my parents were both in their bathrobes in the middle of the day, or why the chair was out. No more time for thinking about that, my mother was beside me.

“Now, young miss, where did that money come from?” My father’s rank in the military had others address him as ‘Mister’ so mother had taken to calling me ‘young Miss’ when I was in deep trouble ever since I was old enough to go to school instead of by my name Gwyn. “I suggest you don’t lie; it will only make this much worse.”

I hesitated, but learned long ago once caught, honesty goes a long way in reducing any punishment. “I took a dollar from your purse. I didn’t think you would miss it. Sorry mom.”

I heard the long sigh before her words. “Smoking, and stealing from me. Is that all or is there something else I should know? Speak up, I want the truth now!”

“There’s a boy there I want to date and thought if he could see I was grown up it would make him like me. He’s a year ahead of me in collage and thinks I’m just a kid. That’s it Mommy, I promise.” I called her mommy whenever I was in serious trouble. I have no idea where it came from or why I still had the habit in my teen years, but it was there. Maybe because I was a single child and mom would try to cuddle and baby me. I hated being babied, but little did I know it saved my butt big time.

There was a distinct pause for several seconds before she continued. “If your father was here, no doubt he would paddle you himself. He thinks of you as a young woman and should take punishment befitting such a standing. Lucky for you, I still think of you as my baby girl, and am going to treat you that way.”

Even though being over her lap would hurt considerably less than the cane, I didn’t want to be babied. “Don’t baby me. I’m eighteen years old.”

Mom sat in the chair, placing her finger under my chin to bring my eyes up to meet hers. “Being eighteen is exactly the reason why you’re going over my knee. There is something else you should know. If I catch you with cigarettes or stealing from now until your father comes home, you will be over my lap, except before you do, I will invite your entire class over to watch. Your college still paddles students for behavior problems in front of other students sometimes. I’m sure your class might be interested in watching a teenage girl being paddled by her mummy. Maybe I’ll ask the boy you want to date to make sure he’s here. What do you think?”