| Subject: Re: Spanking Protocol |
Author:
Louise
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Date Posted: 17:18:21 10/30/25 Thu
In reply to:
Paula
's message, "Re: Spanking Protocol" on 11:26:30 10/29/25 Wed
Ho Paula. Thanks for your thoughtful response.
I sometimes wondered if they did look for reasons to spank me. But, in the end, I accepted their reasoning that it was to motivate me to stop daydreaming and focus on my family and personal obligations. I was a daydreamer and so I could not argue with them about that.
Though I was never openly disrespectful, they often considered gestures like an eye roll or a grimace to be an act of disrespect. One time I got spanked by my mother for stamping my foot when she refused to let me go out with my friends after school. Then when my father came home, he spanked me for being disrespectful to Mom.
Was your Mom's warning smacks effective? Did you feel grateful for it? How painful were those warning smacks?
Were you spanked bare, over your panties or it depended? How about the time you were spanked in front of your aunt?
There were responsibility spanking I felt were undeserved. Here is one that I felt was egregiously unfair.
One time when I was twelve, Mama had to go out and left me in charge. I was specifically told to supervise my younger brother doing his homework. George was not a serious student and wanted to go play. He lied to me and told me that he had less to do than he really had. I didn’t check his assignment sheet and after looking at what he had done, I let him go outside. The next day the teacher sent him home with a note for not doing his math homework.
Now he was scared and asked me what he should do. I told him that he had to show it to our mother right away. I wasn’t too sympathetic either since I thought I would be in trouble too. He gave the note to our mother. She called me in and sternly demanded to know what had happened. George volunteered that he had forgotten to do the assignment. Mama turned to me and asked if I’d checked his assignment book. Nervously, I admitted that I had not.
She looked sharply at my brother. “Your father will deal with you when he gets home.” He swallowed hard and nodded.
Mama turned back toward me. She lectured me too. I didn’t need to hear all of it; the key terms “young lady”, “irresponsible” and “not what I expect from a mature young lady’ conveyed it all. She was going to spank me.
I, of course, apologized profusely and promised it would never happen again. Mama’s response was a “well we’re going to make sure of that” followed by a crisp instruction to fetch a kitchen chair. It was then that I realized she might spank me in front of my brother. It had happened before but only when I had done something to him. In this case he had done something to me so I was perplexed. If anything, shouldn’t I be watching his punishment?
“I..is he going to watch?” I asked, biting my lower lip.
Mama saw my upset and her expression softened.
“Yes, sweetie. Your brother needs to understand that his actions not only affected him but you as well. I want him to understand all the consequences of his behavior. He needs to see that his actions hurt you too. And, it will benefit you too. Knowing how much you hate getting spanked in front of him, will, I know, motivate you to not forget to check his assignment book. It will help you to be the mature young lady that, we both know, you are fully capable of being, and I might add, usually are.”
I swallowed hard. I certainly didn’t like what I was hearing but it made sense. It made me feel a bit better to know that she had thought it out so carefully. And, while I certainly felt her disappointment and disapproval, I also felt, every bit as strongly, her love and dedication to my well being and development. I decided right then and there that I would not make any fuss. I would take my spanking like the big girl that I was. I brought over the chair.
As Mama took her place, I looked over at my brother. His eyes were filled with remorse over what he was causing me and perhaps, fear, over what I might do to him later. But Mama’s soothing explanation had calmed me down and hearing his heartfelt apologies to me, neutralized any thoughts of retribution. After all, it wasn’t like he was getting away with it scot-free. He’d get it from Daddy. I accepted his apology and told him that I wasn’t angry anymore.
“Just don’t do it again”, was my parting remark to him.
I looked back to my mother.
“I’m sorry I let you down, Mama. I’m ready for my spanking.”
Mama’s face broke into a warm smile. It wasn’t just my words; it was my spontaneity and sincerity that moved her. She pulled me toward her and gave me a hug and told me how proud I had just made her. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I would escape the spanking but I almost didn’t care. Winning back Mama’s confidence and trust was what was really important.
Moving to her right side, I placed my hands on her far knee and eased myself over her lap. A few wriggles and I was in position. I hoped that my sudden display of maturity would earn me the privilege of receiving the spanking over my skirt. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten it over anything besides panties or bare skin. Still, with my brother watching, just maybe, this time she’d spare me that embarrassment. Looking back at her over my shoulder, her eyes told me that she was, indeed, giving it serious consideration.
Finally, she gave a slow troubled head shake.
“I’m sorry to have to do this”, she said, “but I feel it’s necessary for both you and your brother to appreciate just how seriously I take doing homework and supervising homework.”
My eyes went wet with profound disappointment, but I brought myself to nod my understanding and acceptance. I turned away and felt her lift my skirt and carefully pile it on my back. Clad in ankle socks I could picture the two columns of flesh that I presented. I blushed hotly and uttered a low moan. A coolness played along the length of my legs and the surface of my panties: a sensation that would surely not last for long. The color and heat was all in my face. Remorseful though he might be, my brother’s eyes would certainly be drawn to the sight of my pale under-cheeks, quivering lightly under their thin covering.
With one hand I grasped Mama’s left leg; the other touched the floor. I felt my long dark hair sweeping just above the surface of the floor. My brother’s sympathy notwithstanding, I could not escape the humiliation of being so postured before him. That, and with the painful act drawing ever nearer, the tears clouding my eyes rolled freely down my cheeks. Still, intent on showing Mama that I was a big girl, I limited my lips to expressions of acknowledgment, apology and assurances of future improvement.
“See what a good and brave sister, you have” she proudly told my brother. “She makes mistakes, but she owns up to them and accepts the consequences. You would do well to follow her example.”
Amidst my feelings of fear and embarrassment, her words actually inspired a touch of pride.
Then Mama asked me, sadness evident in her tone, if I was ready for my spanking. My response was a quiet but unhesitating, “yes, Mama.” Her hand touched lightly atop my right buttock, Mindful of the requirement to keep my bottom soft and relaxed, I forced all nervous tension to my toes, ankles and calves. Seconds passed. The hand lifted; my eyes squeezed shut. Then, a stinging slap landed on the very site of the gentle caress. More tense seconds passed and then fell another. The pattern was set for a rhythmic, measured spanking, like the sound of ocean waves crashing a rock wall, punctuated by little “oh’s” and ”ah’s” and as the heat built, longer “oooh’s.”
The intervals between smacks allowed me time to gather my wits and remind myself to maintain my reactions in “big girl” mode. They were not moments of relaxation or even of much relief. With my buttocks now continuously throbbing, the sting produced by each successive slap lasted progressively longer.
As my punishment progressed, Mama sternly scolded both of us. She seemed to have a full repertoire of ways to express my need to be more responsible and my brothers need to do his schoolwork and tell the truth. ”This isn’t the first time this has happened. I warned you and you see, Louise, I always keep my word. You’re a good girl but you need to be responsible for more than just yourself. We rely upon you to help your younger brother and sometimes that means checking out what he tells you.” Mama went on to point out my failure to check my brother’s work was inexcusable and that she wasn’t going to let me get away with it. “It’s for our own good, you know”. She paused, then continued with “your father and I spank you only because we love you and to help you be a responsible young lady.”
Perhaps since I was the one getting spanked, Mama’s lecture to George was considerably harsher, her tone severe and threatening; coldly reminding him that well after she was done with me, he would have a session with his father’s strap.
Despite my fervent intention to take my spanking without a fuss, I felt myself losing control and sensing my gasps, moans and sniffles achieving a steadily higher decibel level. And with each fresh smack my distress was being expressed ever more audibly. In time, my pride and courage crumbled, and I was weeping openly. ;
“Oooooooohhooooooooo” I sobbed as the anguish in my bottom reaching ever higher levels.
“Nooooo … Ooooohhhh … ooohhhhhh ... ppllleeeaassse … Mama … PLEASE!!!”
I begged, hips jerking hard against my mother’s lap; trim legs wiggling frantically; body arching against the left arm pressing across her back.
But the spanking continued, the blows falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm, first on one side of my twisting turning panty covered hillocks, then crossing to address the other. The torturous cadence went on and on, my bottom feeling like a hot, swollen ball of molten lead. I pictured the fearsome darkened stain under my panties and the bright pink at the edges. I was crying steadily and continuously. Still, each fresh slap, a heightened sting and a spike in my mournful ululations,, often punctuated with an “Ohhhh ..Mama” or an “Oh…please … Mama ..I’ll be good.”
Once Mama paused for an extended period of time to carefully examine my shivering, tensing behind, noting where the marks were the darkest and the nervous reaction seemed to be the strongest. Information she would use to determine how much more to spank and where it would be most effective. It was also intended as an opportunity for me to reflect on what I should have done that would have avoided this unfortunate situation. Even better I articulated those thoughts in the form of regrets and promises not to repeat my errant behavior.
Meanwhile, taking advantage of the respite, I squirmed a little, trying to readjust myself, to find a more comfortable position over Mama’s lap. When yet another minute passed, I turned my face back over my shoulder to look at her. There was compassion in her eyes.
“You’ve been a really good girl for your spanking”, she began, “and I truly commend you for that.” She drew a deep breath. “But this wasn’t the first time and so we need to make sure this lesson really sticks with the both of you. So, I’m going to give you a few more. I hope you understand.”
It wasn’t okay but hearing the words “a few more” gave me the strength to murmur a “y…es Mama..I understand.” But, at the sight of her rising hand, and her tightened grip against my waist, I unleashed a despairing sob, swiftly turned my face back to the floor, closed my eyes and waited for the resumption of the chastisement. This last set would be the hardest but at least the end seemed in sight.
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