Name (required):

  Expression ^{(Optional mood/title along with your name) Examples: (happy, sad, The Joyful, etc.) help)}

  E-mail address (optional):

* Type your message here:
>I had just turned seven and was with my mother and a >group of other mothers who had come to pick us up and >walk us home from school on a warm September afternoon >in the early 1960s. > >Our mothers were happily engaged in grownup talk and >showing no inclination to leave soon. I must have >been chatting with my best friend who was also in that >group, although I don't remember. > >When a couple mothers including my best friend's >mother eventually turned off to head home, I asked and >was given permission to walk with them one block but >was admonished to come straight back once they crossed >the street beyond the far corner of that block. > >Once they reached the corner of that block, they stood >there talking instead of crossing the street. Mindful >of Mommy's instructions I waited for them to cross >while they gabbed away. Several traffic signal cycles >passed. > >Then a boy I barely knew walked up from where I had >left my mother and told me I'd better go back right >now or I'd be in trouble with my mother. > >But I didn't believe him. I thought he was playing a >trick so he could laugh at me once I went back. After >all, who was I going to believe? Mommy Herself?? or >some dumb boy? Mommy had told me to come back when >the group I was walking with crossed that street and >they hadn't crossed it yet; so I felt entirely >confident that I was being an impeccably good little >girl, and I certainly wasn't going to fall for his >stupid tricks. > >Several additional traffic signal cycles passed before >they finally crossed the street and obedient little me >immediately skipped straight back to Mommy like I'd >been told to. > >When I got back I was astonished to discover that >Mommy was angry with me. Her tone was furious and her >face was a mask of fury. "You're going to be SPANKED >when we get home, young lady!" she fumed, stooping >down inches from my face when she uttered those >terrible words. She then bid the other mothers a >perfunctory goodbye, snatched up my hand and began >fast-walking me towards our house a couple blocks away. > >She had never given me a chance to say a word or to >explain how this had all looked from my perspective >before promising me my spanking. Of course, looking >back now I can easily understand that she assumed the >group I had gone off with would proceed straight >across the far street at the other end of the block >instead of standing and talking. But she didn't tell >ME that. > >If she had instead told me to return as soon as the >group REACHED that far corner rather than CROSSED THE >STREET beyond it, I would have obeyed THAT instruction >of hers as well, and this whole miserable episode >would never have happened to me. And if she had given >me a chance to explain my side of the story to her >before sentencing me to her Ultimate Punishment, this >whole miserable episode would also never have happened >to me. But she didn't, and it did. > >Knowing my mother, her issue with me at that moment >was that I had made her look bad in front of the other >mothers by being disobedient when sent word via that >boy that I was to come back to her. In her mind, >nothing I could say made a bit of difference; she had >been made to look like the bad mother of an ill-raised >disobedient daughter and I was responsible for that >and would pay dearly. And by promising me my spanking >in front of her friends, she was showing them that she >was not a permissive mother of a disobedient daughter >but a baby-boomer era idea of a good mother of a >disobedient daughter who knew just how to handle >naughty girls. > >It was all about her; so my side of the story didn't >matter. > >My next memory is of being a half block towards home, >just her and me walking, with her right hand firmly >holding my left. I was looking up at her with >bewildered, imploring eyes, trying to understand how >on Earth this was happening to me. And I remember her >face, frowning and resolute, looking straight forward >and not meeting my eyes. And I remember looking at >her hand holding mine - her right hand, her spanking >hand. She didn't forbid me from speaking to her, >though, so of course I did. > >Thus by the time we got home I had given her an >earful, and by then it had to have become clear to her >that this was all a misunderstanding and that I had >genuinely believed I was being an obedient girl while >standing so long on that distant corner. I don't >remember her saying anything to me, though, until we >got home. > >Once we arrived, she marched me up to my room and had >me take off my shoes and socks, then hold my arms >straight up so she could lift off my dress and slip, >leaving me in just my panties. She then directed me >to get into bed on my tummy. Once I had obeyed her, >she turned down my covers far enough to cover my >thighs but leave the rest of me uncovered. She seated >herself sideways on my bedside facing me such that her >weight on my covers kept my legs tightly in place. > >My hands were pasted over my panty seat to delay >matters, still hoping that if I could just make her >understand that I hadn't meant to be naughty and that >I'd thought I was doing exactly as she had told me, >surely she would not carry though with her promise of >a spanking... would she?? > >She took my wrists firmly in her left hand and held >them against the small of my back to prevent me from >shielding myself. Then she pulled down my panties. > >Usually when Mommy pulled my panties down my spanking >began at once. But this time she seemed to be >stalling for some reason, postponing her commencement >of my punishment. > >I remember speaking to her although I don't recall her >words in response, only that she referred every time >to the spanking I was about to receive. Her tone of >voice was resolute, but sorrowful. > >And now comes, for me, my most horrific part of this >memory. Looking over my shoulder at her, I could see >that not only wasn't she cross with me, but her eyes >were moist; she was on the verge of tears! She really >REALLY didn't want to spank me! So why... was... >this... HAPPENING?? > >I was still in denial right up until the moment when >she finally raised her right palm and began giving my >poor little upturned bottom one crisp stinging swat >after another, quickly reducing me to those tearful >wails of pain which her spankings invariably brought >forth in me. > >My next memory is of being entirely under my covers >alone in my room with my bottom throbbing looking >sidelong at my pillow as my crying subsided into >sniffles. I realized then that I had finished crying >sooner than I usually did after my spankings. And I >concluded that although she had given me a real >spanking, she must not have been as severe with me as >she normally was. (Indeed, this was one of my least >severe formal spankings I can remember receiving from >my mother.) > >But emotionally and psychologically it was beyond >terrible; I couldn't understand why I had been spanked >when I hadn't truly misbehaved, merely obeyed her >instructions too literally. And I couldn't understand >why she spanked me when she so strongly didn't want >to. This meant I couldn't tell how to prevent >something like this from happening to me again... and >again. I really wanted to be good and never have to >get a spanking, but how could I?? > >After this I began wetting the bed again, and having >nightmares. Looking back, I had come very close to >seeing into my mother's personality with a clarity >which I absolutely was not ready to face at that >tender age. > >It took me decades of inner work before I was able to >see her clearly enough to recognize that giving me >that spanking was also all about her, just as not >letting me tell her myside of the story back on the >corner with her had been. > >She maintained an inner image of herself as a "good >mother" and part of her legalistic inner rules for >were that "good mother" was always "consistent." She >had promised me a spanking so in order to maintain >that inner image of herself she HAD to spank me >because otherwise she would have been "inconsistent." >The fact that the whole thing had nothing to do with >disciplining me and was all about herself was not >something I was ready to see as a child. > >When I was in my forties, I tried to talk with my >mother about my spankings from her, (including how >they had affected my sexual development). But she >claimed she didn't remember any of my spankings, >including this one, only that both my sister and I had >been spanked on occasion when we were growing up. >Perhaps she truly didn't remember, or perhaps she just >pretended not to in order avoid an unpleasant >conversation with her eldest daughter. > >I'll never know.

Notice: Copies of your message may remain on this and other systems on internet. Please be respectful.