A Spanking Mom's Memoir
by Ed Finn
The moment I strode into Cindy's room and saw the look on her face I knew
I should have done what I was about to do a long time ago — or, more accurately,
I should never have stopped doing it. She was flushed, and pouting slightly.
Her eyes widened when she saw what I had in my hand.
"Oh no, Mother! Not the hairbrush! I don't believe this! Geez! Why
"Hush!" I interrupted, giving my left palm a good whack for emphasis.
"You know what happens when you carry on like that. It's just a normal,
li'l, ol' spankin.'"
Cindy's jaw dropped. She stared at me. Her flush deepened.
"But, Mother..." She whined. "Geez, don't you think I'm a
little too old for this sort of thing- I mean, come on — I'm fifteen years
old! God, I'll be voting in no time...and driving...and, and..."
"Oh, be quiet!" I ordered. "I'll do the talking. You may
lodge your complaints later — after your spanking. And I'll listen. But
I can tell you right now, Cynthia Jane Reynolds, you have gotten to be a
real pain in the you-know-what, and I think if there was a little more spanking
around here there might be a whole lot less naughtiness, lying and general
"Hmmph!" Cindy snorted, but she said nothing.
She glared at me, pouting angrily, as I took the chair from in front of
her vanity and placed it in the middle of the room. I sat and tapped my
right thigh with the hairbrush.
"Okay, young lady," I said, "you know what to do."
Cindy did not move. I tapped my thigh again, with a little too much vigor.
"Ow!" I winced and rubbed the spot with my left hand. I had forgotten
how much the hard, flat backside of an old, wooden hairbrush could sting,
even through denim slacks.
My little demonstration of said hairbrush's effect was not lost on Cindy.
Her eyes widened and she instinctively reached both hands back, cupping
her jeans clad backside.
"I said come here, young lady! It hasn't been that long since your
last spanking, so I'm sure you remember the penalty for stalling — if I
recall, you once earned yourself not only a longer and harder spanking,
but even an extra 'good night and sweet dreams' paddling at bedtime. You
do remember that, don't you-"
Cindy glared daggers at me. She heaved a huge sigh and nodded.
"So I can talk now-" She sneered.
I sighed and shook my head slowly.
"This is no time for attitude, young lady. I've already decided to
give you a harder spanking than I was going to. I would think you'd really
want to just get over my knee and take your medicine before I decide to
give you a really good, old-fashioned, can't sit down for a week walloping."
Cindy remained rooted to her spot, about three feet out of reach. I could
probably have had her in a flash, but I was not going to chase her. I wanted
her to submit to this spanking, that being a big part of the punishment
for a head strong girl her age.
"Well, what's it going to be, young lady- Your fooling around has already
cranked your spanking up one notch, so I guarantee you your poor little
bottom is going to be really sorry as it is. Now, do you want to try for
more, or do you want to get that naughty, little bottom of yours over my
knee- And I mean right now!"
"Okay, okay, Mom, I will," she whined. "But wait a minute,
okay- You asked me a question, right-"
"Yes, I did. But make it snappy, kiddo. If I think you're stalling
again...well, I think you know what two spankings in one day feels like,
"Okay, okay" Cindy said, fidgeting with her long, blond hair as
her face reddened again. "You asked if I remember my last spa...spanking.
Well, yeah I do, I guess. It was over two years ago when I was only a little
girl...twelve, I think. But I also remember that after it — or, really,
after the second one that same day — you said I was maybe getting too old
and was about to be a teenager and that you weren't going to spank me anymore.
Do you remember that- Because you said it, so I don't think you should be
doing this now. So, who's the liar now-"
I had been expecting something like that. A mother knows her daughter, and
one of Cindy's real talents is her selective memory. I scowled, looking
her dead in the eye.
"You'd better watch your mouth, young lady. You know very well I said
a bit more than that I wasn't ever going to spank you again. What I said
was, I didn't want to have to spank you again because you were growing up,
and that if you would do your part and act your age — oh, and you were
thirteen, by the way — that I probably — probably, got that- — wouldn't
have to spank you again. Do you remember that part-"
Cindy shuffled her feet, staring at the carpet.
"Uhm...no...or, yeah...I guess so."
"Good! Now, since you're so curious about what your poor, old mother
can and can't remember, let me tell you a thing or two. First, I wish I
had never said anything at all. I don't know how many times in the last
two years I've let you off the hook without the good, hard spanking you
deserved. You should consider yourself a very lucky little girl, because
there are probably two dozen times I should have paddled that naughty little
bottom of yours. But I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I wish I hadn't,
because if I had spanked you like you deserved maybe you would have matured
a little bit more by now and we wouldn't be having to do this now, with
you fifteen years old and a junior in high school."
"But, Mother..." Cindy began.
"Quiet! I'm not done," I said. "Second, let's talk about
today. What in the world got into you, anyway- I get a call at work, from
the vice principle, asking if I can come down a get my daughter. I thought
you were sick. But, no, he says you're being suspended — suspended! —
for participating in a food fight at lunch. When I tell him I think that's
a bit harsh and ask how many others are being suspended, he says 'none.'
He goes on to explain that you started the whole thing, egged several other
students on, calling them chicken and worse things — oh, remind me to have
a talk with you about your mouth...I think we need to do something about
that too, a nice, big mouthful of Ivory maybe — and then, when Mrs. Benson,
the guidance counselor, tried to calm things down, you squished a piece
of lemon meringue pie in her face. And then, when he finally had you in
his office and asked why you did it, what did you say- You were bored. Bored!
Well, young lady, let's just see if I can't alleviate a little bit of your
boredom right now. And I do mean now. Come here this instant!"
I had worked myself up into a darn good, self-righteous, corporal tizzy.
Cindy, apparently realizing the folly of further antagonizing the mad woman
holding the hairbrush, slowly shuffled over to stand just to my right.
"Well, what are you waiting for-" I asked, knowing full well,
from personal experience, how difficult it is to willingly submit to one's
My mother was always a stickler for what she deemed "the proper formalities,"
of spanking, and I have borrowed her strict approach for my sessions with
my daughter. It is one thing to be dragged kicking and screaming into spanking
position, and then held there forcibly while the corporal sentence is imposed;
this allows the culprit to later maintain she was victimized, and that if
Mom or Dad wasn't so big and strong, well, the whole thing would have turned
out differently, confusing just whose "fault" the spanking was.
Mother much preferred that the culprit willfully submit, accepting her own
blame for the dire predicament in which she found herself. A spanking is
caused by the naughtiness of the spankee, with the spanker merely fulfilling
a duty. I had raised Cindy that way, and was not about to change now.
"Okay, okay," muttered Cindy, as she bent forward, across my lap
and began to settle herself down into the classic position. "I'm sorry,
Mother," she said, her tone dripping with phony contrition, "Don't
spank me too hard...okay-" She was all the way settled, her jeans clad
rear end posed enticingly. But there was one, little problem.
"Hmmph!" I snorted. "Let's see now...what's wrong with this
"Cynthia Jane," I said, "I asked you a question...what's
wrong with this picture-"
She looked back up at me, all wide-eyed innocence.
"What-" she asked. "What do you mean- I'm here. I'm ready.
Come on, I want to get this over with."
She emphasized her demand with a little shake of her butt.
It was more than I could resist.
Whack! Crack! Whack! Smack!........
About a dozen times, hard and fast, I spanked, alternating cheeks, aiming
"Whooooooooa! Waaaaiiiit!" Cindy squealed. "Owwww! Stop that!
Not so hard! Stop it right now!"
She looked back up at me, her brow furrowed and her face flushed.
"Wait a minute!" She demanded. "What are you doing- You never
used to spank me that hard. Geez! That hurt! What's wrong with you, anyway-"
I pressed the back of the hairbrush firmly against her quivering right bottom
cheek. I paused for effect. When I spoke, it was calmly and coolly.
"You know very well what's wrong, young lady. But if you want to play
games, well and good. Fine. Those spanks did not count. Neither will any
I duplicated my earlier corporal effort, just as fast and just as hard.
Cindy squalled her displeasure and went stiff as a board, her legs extended
straight out to her rear and her upper torso likewise. She looked at me,
her fists clenched.
"That hurt!" She complained. "I told you, not so hard! And
why don't they count- Of course they count! They were spanks, weren't they-
And hard ones too! Owwwww!" She keened, wriggling her backside as if
in severe discomfort. I knew better.
"You think you're pretty smart, huh-" I asked, the brush again
pressed to her behind. "Or do you just think I'm stupid- You know very
well this is not how we do it. Now, are you going to get up and do this
right, or do I have to spank a hole right through these jeans of yours...at
which time, by the way, and only at which time, your actual spanking will
commence- What'll it be, Kiddo-"
I raised the hairbrush, poised to strike.
"Wait! Wait! Don't!" demanded Cindy, her nether quarters flattened
against my thighs and her right hand back, protecting her right bottom cheek.
I hesitated, waiting as instructed. Cindy held her breath, then exhaled
long and slow. She relaxed, her body draped limply over my lap. Knowing
how hard it is to override one's pride, I gave her the moment or two she
"Okay, I'll do it," she said as she pushed up and off my lap,
to stand again to my right, pouting, with both hands busy soothing her behind.
"Uh-uh, young lady! No rubbing! We haven't even started yet,"
I reminded her. "Now, let's try it again, shall we-"
Cindy's hands went to the snaps at the front of her jeans.
"Please, Mom, do I have to- Just this once, can't I keep them on- Please-"
I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"Well, now I've heard everything," I said. "Who ever heard
of a naughty, little girl getting to keep her pants on for a spanking, especially
as good a spanking as this one is going to be- Hmmm- I certainly haven't.
Every spanking I've ever been involved in was bare bottomed. Why should
this one be any different-"
"Well, because..." Cindy stared at the floor, her fingers fiddling
with the front of her jeans, "because...oh, I don't know...because,
oh, because I'm older now. I'm fifteen, and anyway, that damn...oops! I
mean that darn brush hurts enough on my jeans. Please, Mother, just this
once, okay- Then, if you ever want to spank me again, we can do it on my
ba...bare bot...bottom, okay- I promise. Okay-"
She gave me her best, "I'm a little girl who loves her mommy so very,
very much," pout.
"And you didn't get the lead in the class play..." I mused, shaking
my head slowly. "Very impressive. Oscar caliber performance, I would
say. Too bad it was wasted. And it was, you know, because the simple fact,
young lady, is that I am in charge here. Not you. You are getting spanked.
I'm your mother and you will do as I say. I don't have to give you a single
reason why your bottom will be bare for this spanking. But I will give you
one anyway, okay- And that one reason is this...I like it that way. Pure
and simple. I want to spank your bare bottom. Your — bare — bottom. Got
that- I hope so, because if you waste any more of my time, you will pay
the price, and that will be another spanking tonight, and then more spankings
every night for a week. Oh, and in case you have any doubt at all, every
single one of those spankings will also be with this very hairbrush, on
your sassy, bare behind. There, I hope I've made myself perfectly clear."
I smiled up at her. Cindy's face was blank. She stared into my eyes for
a moment, angry as could be, and then glanced away. She began unfastening
"I'll take that as a 'yes, Mother, I understand,'" I chided. "Now,
be quick about it. I know a naughty little girl whose bare bottom spanking
is way overdue."
Slowly, Cindy tugged her jeans down off her hips, working to make sure her
pretty, yellow panties didn't come along for the ride, a seemingly pointless
effort. Then, there she stood, her jeans bunched about her ankles and her
hands clasped before her, the very image of a contrite little girl, but
for the furious workings of her jaw muscles. Ever the actress....
"Mother, about my panties..." she implored, her eyes never quite
settling on mine. "Do I have to- I mean...geez...they're thin and,
I gave three quick snaps of my fingers and pointed to the floor.
Blushing a deep red, Cindy sighed and slid her panties down, slowly, finally
letting them fall to join her jeans. At the same time, she quickly started
to lower herself across my lap.
"Uh-uh! Hold it, young lady!" I ordered. "You get right back
There was one more little item. As I said, Mother taught me the significance
of ritual in discipline, and it was a lesson I did not want lost on my daughter.
Cindy knew very well she was skipping another important step in the pre-spanking
phase of her punishment.
I had never seen her angrier. She clasped her hands before her, tightly,
trying in vain to conceal the telltale hint of young womanhood nestled there.
I could tell she was having trouble maintaining her self control. Which
was good. It is exactly this power over one's emotions and desires which
was, and always is, at issue. The idea is to remind the girl who is being
punished that, yes, indeed, she can control herself and even act against
her childish instincts if necessary, the point being that such self control,
exhibited earlier in the day, would have led to a far better late afternoon
than she was about to endure.
I waited, tapping my thigh with the hairbrush. I did not think she would
want to stand there long.
Cindy bit her lower lip, her eyes darting about, but always returning to
gaze briefly upon the instrument of her forthcoming correction. I knew how
her tummy felt. It was always a hard lesson, but such are the best learned.
Finally, she nervously cleared her throat and said softly, "Okay, Mother...I...I'm
ready. I know I was naugh...naughty today, and I wa...want you to give me
a good, ha...ha...hard, spank...spanking...okay-"
She again began to lower herself across my knees.
"Oops! Not quite, young lady," I said and tsk-tsked my disapproval.
Cindy stood and scowled, cocking her head as if she really had forgotten.
"Oh...oh yeah..." she said. I could see she was more than a bit
peeved. "I forgot. Yada, yada...naughty...yada, yada...good, hard spanking...yada...on
my bot...I mean, my bare bottom." She heaved a huge sigh. "Okay-"
she added, looking me directly in the eye.
"Well, Cindy, I don't know..." I said, returning her gaze. "There's
something about your attitude...Oh, well. Since you did ask so politely,
I guess I may as well accommodate you. Maybe we should discuss your little,
'yada-yada' attitude problem while I have you over my 'yada-yada' knee."
I patted my thigh with the hairbrush.
"Okay," I said. "You may assume the position. And remember,
I expect to have that naughty, little bottom of yours where I can get at
Using the hairbrush, I carved an appropriately round, little arc in the
air, just above my right thigh.
Cindy pursed her lips. She then lowered herself into position.
I was pleased and proud to note she had not forgotten a thing, as she maneuvered
herself into near perfect spanking position. When she finished, her hands
were flat on the carpet before her, propping her up in front, while behind
her jeans and panties dangled ignominiously, brushing the floor. More important,
her adorable, round bottom, showing an acceptable trace of corporal pink
which lingered from the hairbrush swats, was precisely where I had designated.
So far so good.
I was in no rush. Believe me, when a girl is lying over someone's knee,
with her bottom all bare, waiting is sheer agony. She wants the spanking
to commence, but then again she doesn't. Not really. But she is embarrassed,
and...well, you get the picture. I find it the perfect time for small talk.
"There, that's better," I said. "Now, don't you feel silly,
making such a fuss over such a little thing-"
When she did not respond, I pressed the bristled side of the brush against
the center of her bottom.
"Cat got your tongue, young lady-" I asked.
Cindy glared back up at me.
"No. And no. How's that-" She asked defiantly.
Amazing, isn't it — defiance at a time like that-
"Hmmph! If nothing else, I'll give you an 'A' for pluckiness,"
I said. "Of course, you might want to consider what pluckiness is actually
going to do for you right now, what with the predicament you've gotten your
naughty, little self into. You might be better off going for a little contrition
or forgiveness, don't you think-"
Thwop! I gave her a swat with the bristles, a bit more than a love tap.
"Oops...sorry...that was just me being plucky," I said, thoroughly
enjoying myself now. "It's kind of fun."
Thwop! Another one, a little harder. Cindy, simply moaned and clenched her
Now, dear reader, please, don't be put off by the fact that I admit I was
enjoying myself. I know, I know, discipline is serious business, to be engaged
in only for the good of the child, and never for the purpose of entertaining
the adult. I appreciate that, but what's so bad about being so comfortable,
so sure I am doing the right thing for my child, that I allow myself to
appreciate the moment. I sure paid my dues on the receiving end — of the
very same hairbrush, by the way. More times than I care to recall, I was
similarly positioned, awaiting what I knew would be a thorough and stinging
chastisement. And, much as I hated it at the time, I do remember Mother
seemed to find an endless array of opportunities to laugh and make light
of what seemed so desperately humiliating and serious an occasion to me.
We've even shared a few laughs about my spankings in her later years.
It's all a matter of perspective. I knew what I was about to do to Cindy
was absolutely correct. She would be much the better for it. I also firmly
believed that, were it possible to get into her heart at that very moment,
she would agree. If not, I would have had quite a tussle getting her over
my knee. In fact, I might never have been able to do so — at least until
her father got home. Anyway, there she was, her bottom uppermost and bare,
familiar in its amazing roundness, though a wee bit fuller and broader —
womanly, if you will — than I recalled. It still was one of the most outrageously
spankable behinds you can imagine, and I intended to minister to it appropriately
and with good humor. So much for my lecture.
"Oh, I see," I said, eyeing the bright pink area just visited.
"Mum's the word, huh-"
Cindy's defiance, coupled with the tantalizing positioning of her terrifically
taut, teen aged tush (hey, it's okay! — I can notice these things...I am
her mother, after all), had me more than ready to get on with the main event.
But, anticipation being half the fun, I still hesitated to begin.
"I suppose you would like me to get started, wouldn't you-" I
All I got was a single, firm nod.
"It's okay to speak," I chided.
"Still nothing to say, huh- Well, okay then..."
I held the hairbrush high, menacing.
Cindy gave a little moan and squirmed her midsection, keeping her bottom
cheeks tightly clenched. Why- I don't know. Anyone who's ever been spanked
knows that only makes it sting more. Oh well...
When no spank fell, Cindy looked up at me, puzzled. Had she won a reprieve-
I lowered the brush and said lightly, "Nope, not yet. Seeing you like
this, with your cute, little heinie all bare and ready for spanking, reminds
me that this is when we used to have some of our best discussions. I'll
bet sometimes you even thought I was going to forgive and forget and let
you off with no spanking. Am I right-"
Cindy scowled and looked back down at the floor.
"But you never did," she grumped.
"Right you are," I responded gaily. "And do you know why
I always spanked you-"
"No...or yeah — I bet you thought it was for my own good, or something
stupid like that."
"Bingo! Give the girl a prize. But you said that like you don't agree.
Why is that, Sweetie-"
Never one to resist sharing her point of view, even, apparently, when in
as vulnerable a situation as she then found herself, Cindy said, "Because
I bet the real reason you want to spank me is you just like to do it. You
like to spank me. It's fun for you...right-"
Ouch! A bit too close to home, that one.
"Now, you just wait a sec..." I began.
"No. You wait! I'm right, aren't I- You like to spank me. Spank, spank,
spank, that's all you ever do!"
She paused, glaring back up at me.
I shook my head.
"No, Cindy, you've got it all wrong. My gosh, I haven't spanked you
in two years — does that sound like I like to do it- Heaven knows I could
have. There are lots of times you deserved to have your sassy, little fanny
blistered, but I didn't do it, did I- I really hoped to never have to spank
you again, but your conduct today has forced me to. Do you really think
I could let you get away with what you did at school today-"
"No, but you could ground me or something — you don't have to spank
"Yes I do! Grounding hasn't worked. Withholding your allowance hasn't
worked. Nothing has worked...except spanking. Stopping that was a big mistake,
and it is one I am about to rectify. But there is one more thing I insist
that you understand. I really do not want to spank you. But you have left
me no choice. So, a spanking you shall get — and a real good, hard one
at that. Now, that being the case, it is after all, simply a spanking. It
will sting and you will cry. But then it will be over. Whether you ever
get another one will be solely up to you, but I want you to know that as
far as I am concerned, what you are about to get is just a preview of what
you can expect from now on, young lady, as long as you live under this roof.
Spanking has returned to the Reynolds' house!"
With that I began. Enthusiastically, I distributed a flurry of quick, not
too hard spanks all about Cindy's pretty bottom. She remained tightly clenched,
fists, teeth and bottom. It was a mistake she always seemed to make, and
one I understood. She was a chip off the old block in the, "You can
spank me 'til your arm falls off, but I won't let on it hurts," game.
I wonder why it is that for some girls, we must graduate from spankee to
spanker before we see the sheer folly of such a ploy. It only encourages
the spanker to try harder, which should be the last thing the spankee wants.
I don't know how many times I wound up on my bed, lying on my tummy as I
nursed a very hot and sore bottom, saying to myself, "What a dummy!
Why did you have to pretend you couldn't feel it- Never again!" But,
I always reneged on that vow. It's called teen spirit, I guess.
I applied another flurry, a bit harder, saying as I did so, "So, I
see we're playing the old, 'You can't hurt my bottom game,' are we- Well,
honey, the sad truth is I can...and I will!"
Properly forewarned, my daughter nonetheless reacted with surprise as I
brought the brush crisply down, four times in a row, all to exactly the
same tender spot on her lower left bottom globe, just above the crease where
her thigh begins.
"Waaaaaa! Owwwwww!" she shrilled. "Owwww! Not so har....Ouuuuuch!
Cindy interrupted herself as I distributed an equal dose to her lower right
"Owwwwww! That stiiiiiings!" she yelped, convincing me it did.
"Wait! Wait! Ohmygod...I can't stand it!" she whimpered.
"Hunh! Only eight real spanks and already you can't stand it- Well.
That's too bad, young lady, because this dance has barely begun!"
I began spanking in earnest. Though it had been a while, the old corporal
cadence came back to me and I spent the next minute or so spanking merrily
away, delivering brisk, firm spanks, snapping my wrist at just the right
moment so as to impart a worthwhile sting, and covering the entirety of
Cindy's wriggling and bucking behind. Her cries fell on deaf ears. I know
how it feels. Those first few spanks sting so badly you wonder how you will
ever stand it. But you do. Too many spankers, dismayed at the immediate
hyperactivity and the sheer volume of the early response, quit altogether
too soon, buying into the girl's show of remorse. That is a mistake. One
must spank right on, past those early moments, until reaching a point of
complete understanding on the part of the girl as to the hopelessness of
her predicament, and the degree to which she owes you her undivided attention.
It took just about that first minute — well over fifty smacks — for me
to achieve such an opportunity for communication with my daughter. I knew
when the moment arrived by the change in her cacophonous tune.
She was still kicking and shrieking and flailing her arms all about, but
suddenly she was asking, not ordering me to stop. "Stop it right now!"
had become, "Please stop, pleeeeease!" Of course, I did not stop...not
immediately. One should never let a little girl think that she in any way
has a say as to whether, when, how or how long she will be spanked. But,
noting the change in Cindy's attitude, I slowed the pace a bit, then a bit
more, and finally paused, using the hairbrush bristles to pat her blazing
red behind and keep her attention properly focused.
Cindy's full weight now lay upon my thighs. She sobbed and rubbed her eyes.
She crossed and re-crossed her ankles, where I noted her jeans and panties
now dangled from only her left foot. I examined her bottom and found it
to my liking. It was bright red, evenly so, typical of what a well-wielded
hairbrush can accomplish in a minute or so. She wriggled from side to side,
unable to hold still, especially as the hairbrush continued its more subtle,
but ever so aggravating activity.
"Now we're getting somewhere," I opined. "Your bottom is
getting nice and red. How do you like it- Does this remind you of why you
didn't used to like to get spanked-"
Cindy sniffled. She was quiet. Dare she talk back- I waited, prepared to
deal with whatever.
"Owwwwwwwiieeeeee!" she screeched. Bristling, she hissed, "No!
I don't like it! And I think you're....Ouuuuuuuuuuuuuch! Owwwwwwww! Aiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!"
Being disinterested in what she might think of me at just that moment, I
decided to move directly to phase two. Spanking very fast, at least three
spanks per second, and reasonably hard, I worked the hairbrush from her
upper right thigh to the top of that cheek, and then down the left side,
finishing with an extra hard spank to her upper left thigh. Well, you never
heard such a noise. Yelling and screaming that I was killing her, Cindy,
bucked and kicked, sending both her jeans and panties flying. Begging me
to stop, she flung her right hand back and plastered it to her fiery right
"Please, Mommy, no more....I'm sorryyyyyyy! Stop! Please! Ohhhhhhh,
it stings so baaaaaaaad! Please, Mommy, no more!"
"Mommy-" That was a very good sign. When you are spanking a fifteen
year old and she starts calling you "Mommy" you know you are doing
something right. However, there was still a problem — a major one."
"Hands!" I declared.
Cindy gasped and jerked her hand from harm's way.
"Oh nooooo! I forgot! Please, Mommy...I'm sorry!"
"I'm sure you are, young lady! Too bad. So, which will it be-"
I asked, resuming the pesky, circular motion of the sharp bristles upon
her hot, twitching rear end.
In this family, we have a hard and fast rule; when you are getting spanked,
under no circumstances do you ever put a hand back or try to get away or
in any other way interfere with corporal progress. Never. Period. The penalty
for doing so is significant. So much so that Cindy had not made that mistake
since she was nine years old and had her first encounter with the hairbrush.
She had been warned since she was little and was generally very good about
taking her spankings without resistance. Unfortunately for her, the hairbrush
had so inflamed her tender little, nine year old bottom, obviously well
beyond anything my poor, old, right palm had ever accomplished, that she
had forgotten and tried to stop the hairbrush from falling by blocking its
path. At which point she had to make the same decision which confronted
"Oh, Mommy...pleease...no...I forgot...geez...it's been so long..."
"Another reason for more spankings, I'd say," I said caustically.
"I'm sure you did forget, but that just means we want to make sure
you never forget again. Now which will it be- I need an answer right now!"
"Owwwwch! Stop it! Okay...I'll take the other spanking. Later. Okay-"
"That will be just fine, young lady. Tonight at bedtime then,"
I promised, not at all surprised she chose the second spanking.
The alternative, which has never been chosen by me or anyone else as far
as I know, is to suspend the current spanking, go to the corner for ten
minutes, and then start all over, having gotten dressed and everything.
Trust me, when your poor bottom is on fire, and you know there is already
more to come, possibly significantly more, no way do you want to start over.
Another spanking, later, seems fundamentally the superior choice. Of course,
when one ponders the situation under less stressful and stinging circumstances,
the idea of starting over seems more logical, assuming the spanker doesn't
really intend it literally. But when under the gun, or hairbrush, ending
one's current spanking becomes paramount.
"Now, then, Miss Reynolds," I said, "back to the present
and this very red and very, very hot little bottom of yours. You've made
a lot of noise, and I know your bottom is pretty sore, but I also know I
have not heard what I need to hear. So, are you ready-"
I raised the hairbrush and, to my delight and surprise, heard, "Ye...Yes,
Mother...I'm sorry. Go ahead." Whereupon my brave little girl clasped
her hands in a death grip and lowered her head. What would have gone on
to become a severe and prolonged spanking was instantly mitigated; I simply
wished to make sure Cindy appreciated the seriousness of her misbehavior
and would be quite unlikely to repeat it. Not that she was to get off easy,
Whack! Crack! Smack!
Very hard and alternating cheeks, I began spanking in a methodical and slow
rhythm, allowing about two seconds between each spank, long enough to feel
one quite adequately, but not long enough to steel oneself for the next.
In no time, Cindy was caterwauling and howling to the heavens about how
sorry she was and how she would never do it again. Her bottom flamed as
each smack of the hairbrush left a brief, white imprint.
I paused and asked if she'd learned her lesson.
Sobbing and gasping, Cindy assured me in no uncertain terms she had.
"Good!" I said, "Because, young (Smack!) lady, (Crack!) If
you ever (Whack!), ever (Smack!), even look (Crack!) at a piece of lemon
(Smack!) meringue (Whack!) pie (Smack!) again, (Whack!), you will not (Crack!)
sit (Whack!) down (Smack!) for (Smack!) a (Crack!) week! (CRACK! SMACK!
CRACK! WHACK! CRACK!) Do (SMACK!) you (WHACK!) read (CRACK!) me-" (WHACKCRACKWHACKSMACKSMACKWHACK!!!!!)
The grand finale quickly reduced my well spanked little girl to unabashed
tears and momentous promises to be good. This, of course, is the goal of
any serious spanking. There was one more thing to discuss and one more piece
to the ritual.
After allowing Cindy to lie across my lap for several minutes, until she'd
regained most of her composure, I casually said, "Well, I think that
might have helped. What do you think-"
Still sniffly, Cindy cautiously opined, "Uhm, yes, Mother...it probably
"Well, that's good, because, as I stated before your spanking, I am
willing to discuss this spanking issue with you, and I think right about
now would be the perfect time. Okay-"
I pressed the bristles to her throbbing bottom. Aren't I incorrigible-
"Uhm...well, okay," she said dubiously.
"Good. Since you've already said you think this little spanking will
help you be a good girl, I probably should let you know I am very inclined
to reinstate spanking as my number one punishment for serious misbehavior.
Would you have a problem with that-"
"Well, geez...I don't think...well, no, I guess not."
"Very good! I'm glad you agree. That being the case, and knowing how
I feel about it, would you also agree that any and all spankings will be
with this hairbrush and on your bare bottom-"
Cindy sighed, then took a couple of quick breaths. I could almost see the
wheels spinning. Dare she risk a confrontation while still bare bottom and
over my knee- Plus, she had another spanking due at bedtime. Discretion
always is, especially when your bottom is at stake, the better part of valor.
"Yeah..." She grumped. I tapped her with the brush. "Don't!
I mean yes, Mother."
"Good! Excellent! Now, say it all for me so we will have no doubt next
time you're in trouble and I decide to spank you."
Cindy sighed again, but she is a smart kid.
"Okay, Mother. Yes, when I am bad, if it is something really bad, not
just being a little late or something, you can spank me...with the hairbrush...on
my bare bottom. Okay-"
I considered her qualifier, and accepted it.
"Good. Okay, then, young lady, you know what's next..."
"Yes, Mother," she said.
Cindy clambered off my lap and headed straight for the corner. Once there,
she pulled her shirt up so as to leave her bottom totally bare, and clasped
her hands before her, snuggling deep into the corner.
"Very good," I said, admiring my candy-apple red handiwork. Never
had Cindy's perfect, little bottom been redder, nor, I'm sure hotter. "Remember,
half an hour...and don't you dare rub your bottom. Got it-"
I left the room, secure in the knowledge my daughter was a well spanked
little girl who would not dare rub her bottom no matter how itchy, tingly
I'm sure there are at least two things you would like to know. Did Cindy
get spanked again that day, and did she get any more spankings after that
day- Well, the answer is yes...to both. If you are real nice I'll share
a bit of detail, okay-
Of course Cindy got spanked again that day. In our family, a spanking
promised is a spanking given. She knows that. Thus, after watching Aly
McBeel, when I told her to get ready for bed, she simply sighed, kissed
her dad goodnight, and went upstairs, saying she'd call me when she was
Her father asked if I had to do it, and I assured him I did. He leaves
Cindy's spankings to me, but he is very supportive. When she called down
to me, I got up and he said, "She's a good kid, Honey, just remember
how it felt when it was you on the other end of that hairbrush."
"I will, Dear, promise," I said.
I found Cindy in her Backstreet Boys night shirt, standing beside the
chair, which she had thoughtfully placed in the middle of her room. She
was holding the hairbrush. I told you she is smart.
Not at all disarmed, I sat down, took the hairbrush, and allowed her to
go over my knee, for the second time that day. This time, as she did so,
she flipped her night shirt up, leaving her still pink and totally bare
bottom on display, perfectly uppermost and spankable. I reminded her of
why she was getting another spanking. She said it was okay and she was
sorry. I spanked her. Not too long, but pretty hard. In no time her bottom
was a brilliant crimson and she was squeaking and squawking her displeasure
and remorse. It was not the hardest spanking ever, not by a long shot,
but it was more than sufficient to impress upon her that she had to remember
the rules, and that her mother was not kidding about spankings, now or
in the future. She was allowed to skip corner time and go straight to
bed. She was on her tummy, rubbing furiously away as I closed her door.
As far as other spankings go, yes, there have been a few, seven or eight
I would say. All were well deserved, and well administered, if I do say
so myself. Cindy did not resist nor interfere in any way, and so escaped
with basic, good old fashioned spankings.
Her last spanking was a bit unusual. She was seventeen, a senior in high
school, and had not been spanked for many months. Suddenly, during an
argument at the dinner table, and right in front of her father, she called
me a (I'd rather not say — but it's just about the filthiest, worst name
I've ever been called). I looked at her, my mouth hanging wide open. It
was her father, for the first and only time, who said, "That was
out of place, Cynthia, and unless your mother takes you upstairs right
this second, I am going to pull down your pants and paddle the you-know-what
out of you!"
Cindy and I looked at each other, shocked. I simply said, "Let's
go, young lady!"
Upstairs, Cindy began to complain about being too old, but the look I
gave her put an end to that. The spanking she got from me was a lulu.
It was every bit as sound as the one I told you all about. Even at seventeen,
that old hairbrush can work wonders on a girl's attitude. She was wailing
and bawling by the time I allowed her to apologize for her lack of respect.
After some more spanking, I allowed her to apologize for her foul mouth.
Her bottom was absolutely sizzling when I sent her to her corner.
I left the room and returned moments later. Lucky for her she wasn't rubbing
her bright red behind.
I said, "You know, Cindy, I can't let you get away with what you
said, so to make sure your father and I never, ever have to hear that
kind of foul, dirty, language again I have some Ivory soap, just for you.
Here, open that potty mouth of yours and if you so much as touch this
bar of soap, let alone drop it, I promise you, you won't be sitting for
a week. I will spank the blazes out of your naughty bottom 'til you think
that's all there is to life — spanking, I mean. Here! Open wide! Clamp
down! Okay, now stay that way 'til I say okay, and remember what I said,
don't drop the soap, and, if you know what's good for you, don't rub your
Ten minutes later, when I released her from the corner, I guarantee you
she was one unhappy and miserable little girl.
That was her last spanking. (Though, she is coming home from college for
A Spanking Mom's Memoir
by Ed Finn