Disclaimer: This type of story isn’t my typical fare but I do from time to time find myself reflecting on the discipline I received growing up and wondering how much it has influenced my activities as an adult. If childhood spanking memories aren’t your cup of tea please pass this one by. Below is the story of a very memorable spanking I received
There is no doubt I was not an easy kid to raise. Always pushing boundaries, testing my limits and other assorted minor mischief. Getting grounded or losing privileges wasn’t uncommon. Usually I’d be grounded for a few days or sent to my room for a few hours on a regular basis depending on the issue. Unfinished chores, missing homework for a few hours and occasionally do something to get grounded for a week. If it was really something heinous I’d be stuck at home for 2 weeks and not allowed to play with friends. While spankings weren’t unheard of they weren’t common in our house like they were for many of my friends. A butt whipping was an option that was there if my parents decided its what was needed. In fact I hadn’t been spanked at home at that point very often in recent years though mom always told me ” I’ll redden your rear end and don’t think for a second young man that I can’t or I won’t”. It was a standard mostly idle threat when she was mad at me and I was on my way to my room.
One night at dinner right after I had turned 13 I pushed it too far. I all but blatantly refused to eat the meatloaf. To this day I remember it being dry and burnt. I did refuse to eat any veggies, I still dislike peas. Finally after being pretty much a mouthy jerk and making mom truly upset with my mean comments about her cooking the ultimatum came. Not from her but from dad. No matter what I was to shut up and finish like I’d been told. Still I pushed back a little more, not as boldly as before but I wasn’t one to just concede anything.
Dad didn’t lose his temper, he rarely disciplined me in any way beyond a tough conversation and truly let most things that seemed trivial just roll. Giving my mother a hard time was not one of those things and on that night at the dinner table he had seen my behavior first hand. While they cleared the table I sat and choked down my food. Choking literally being the word that fit. I gagged and wretched with every bite. I could hear them debating my fate in the next room. I heard the word spank and then their already hushed tones faded even more. 10 or 15 minutes later they returned. Most of what was on my plate was gone and I was still pushing the few remaining bites that should have been long since gone around. Mom snatched the plate away with an angry huff.
Then my options were given to me by my father. I was to pick my punishment. This was new. Option 1 I was to not play with my friends for two weeks including the ones who were visiting their grand mother across the street. No exceptions or time off good behavior Option 2 was I was grounded for one week and not go to the game my dad had tickets for. It was explained I could defer being grounded until the kids across the street left. Option 3 was they would give me a spanking.
A spanking, Ha ! I thought no big deal. Sure it had been a while but I’d been spanked before. I’m sure my answer was some cavalier remark like “fine spank me. Sure I’ll take a spanking” Figuring a few swats and a few minutes later I’d be on my way. Dad just looked at me for a few seconds and then offered “remember you chose this, we didn’t so I don’t want any bull shit from you” Something in his voice got my attention. I felt the nerves build instantly. They left the room. I didn’t move and something was telling me I picked the wrong thing. A few minutes later I was sent to their bedroom and told to stand in the corner. I’d never been sent to their bed room before, corner time was something used when I was little. Normally at that point I’d have laughed it off and not thought a thing about it. This wasn’t one of those times.
I don’t know if it was 2 or 30 minutes later they both entered. I was told to stand in front of the cedar chest lower, my jeans, bend over and place my hands on it. I did all of those things without question. I know as I stood there dad was lecturing me about not complaining, and respecting people. What exactly he said never really registered. My mind was racing with concerns about what was going to happen.
Mom vigorously beat my bottom with a wooden spoon. It stung, it hurt and it was not pleasant but it was also not unbearable. She’d used the spoon on me before. This time was harder and a little longer but not a game changer. I stayed in place stoically just waiting for it to end. Maybe I hadn’t picked wrong after all. After a few minutes she stopped and so did my trepidation. Just as I thought when I picked I’d be on my way with a little sting and a red butt but really no worse for the wear. As I waited to be told to stand up and I expected to be told to go to my room for 30 minutes or an hour. It was just then that dad; who was not one for idle threats told me he. “Stand up and look at me. You see this belt? I’m going to whip your ass so hard that you’ll never forget it”. The belt was a wide thick leather cowboy style belt he’d gotten when visiting the southwest. The fear was back with a vengeance when he told me Get those undies down, bend over don’t you dare move”
I’d never been spanked with that belt before. He meant business and got his point across and then some. By the end the 13 year old who knew it all and was so tough was crying like a baby and wouldn’t hold still. If there was a way to earn extra licks I’m sure I did it as moved, stood up, and pleaded. After him thoroughly lighting my backside up I was immediately sent to the kitchen to “properly” do all the dishes and after that was to immediately get ready for bed. Which I did with out a word.
Looking back I certainly learned my lesson in that case. No matter how “bad” dinner was I simply sat there and ate it. That was the first and last time I chose my punishment.