Random Memories

The Lube Cabinet

Once when I was having sex with a man on our first date, we reached the juncture where lube was needed. I grabbed my bag of lubes for our use. He took one look at it and said, “Wow. You have more types of lube than most people have kinds of booze in their liquor cabinets. I like you!”

(I only had five bottles of four different kinds… in that particular bag anyway! 🙂 )

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

The Nooner

(At long last! A M/F spanking and sex story that has taken me months to complete. Based on true events though no names are used to protect the very obviously guilty.)

My new boyfriend had a great deal of flexibility in his schedule since he worked from home as a computer programmer. He took advantage of that freedom to shift his work schedule to his natural bio-rhythms, sleeping in until 11 a.m. or noon every day but working until late in the night. He had also just moved into a new apartment, one that he hadn’t had the opportunity to christen yet with a sexual partner.

I kept a more traditional 9-5 work schedule because of my career; I traveled between locations locally meeting with clients while doing my job. One particular Monday, I had several last-minute cancellations for the next day on my schedule that left me with a big block of open time in the middle of the day. My last appointment before the free time was not far from my boyfriend’s apartment. I looked at that opening and thought to myself that it had a great deal of potential for some mid-day fun, so I sent a text to my boyfriend asking him, “Any interest in a nooner to christen your place tomorrow?”

The reply quickly came back: “Um, yes? Is there any other answer to that question?”

I was already fairly certain that his response would be an affirmative, but I laughed at his incredible willingness. We sent a series of texts working out the details. I would show up on his doorstep at 11 the next day, ready and willing for whatever fun might arise.  Part of me was a bit nervous about this plan for one reason: since I had learned how to have incredibly pleasurable but also incredibly loud orgasms, I hadn’t had sex with a man who lived in multi-family housing. Thus, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to restrain my screams for the sake of the neighbors. Still, I wasn’t about to turn down this opportunity based on that fear.

The next day I found myself at his front door with a cloth grocery bag of sex toys. The crop wouldn’t quite fit in, but no one was really around outside so I wasn’t too worried about what the neighbors were seeing. As I knocked on the door, my boyfriend opened it to greet me with a kiss. He was as happy to see me as I was to see him. However, he was also in morning mode, and he was in need of his coffee. I kicked off my shoes and made myself at home on the family room couch while he went in pursuit of his heavenly nectar. He had just gotten out of the shower and was still waking up.

We chatted while he loaded the coffee pot, but we quickly began kissing again on his couch while his coffee brewed. I was quite happy to see him, and he seemed equally excited (ahem) by the prospect of what was happening between us. When the coffee finished, he stopped kissing me to go grab his cup and fill it. While I knew how much the coffee meant to him, I wasn’t really in the mood for him to take time to drink it. I wanted to have sex. Desperately.

When he returned to couch to drink his coffee, I pounced on him as soon as he set the mug safely on the side table. The few seconds he had been gone had been too long. My tongue was rapidly inside his coffee-flavored mouth, and his hands quickly moved to my hips as I slid my body onto his lap. He pulled me close and returned my kisses with his, letting his left hand wander up to my breasts amidst the passion.  After a few minutes of this intense interaction, my boyfriend pushed me away to give himself a bit of space to grab his mug and take a long drink. Then he turned back to me.

“I have morning wood we need to take care of. You seem like you’re ready to help me what that issue.” A big smile crossed my face. I was definitely ready to help relieve his erection. My boyfriend took one more gulp of his coffee and then lifted me up off the couch and led me toward his bedroom. As we got into the bedroom, he pulled me close again and put his hands on my cheeks. A gentle kiss was followed by more sex talk.

“I want to make you cum,” he said emphatically, “but until we deal with this morning wood, I can’t think about anything else. You’re going to have to help me before I can help you.” With many men, I would think this was a line to get his and then leave me hanging. However, I knew my boyfriend was good to his word. He loved making me cum. He truly needed release, and I was more than ok with that. I put my arms around his shoulders, kissed him again, and then nodded my consent.

With that, my boyfriend couldn’t wait any longer. He began taking off his clothing while I removed mine in a rapid fashion. This wasn’t a sensuous undressing. It was desperation and desire. The goal was to be naked with our bodies pressed together as soon as possible. It only took a few seconds before we had achieved that goal, our lips and tongues again touching while my hands stroked his now naked cock that was definitely as hard as he had promised it would be.

Meanwhile, my boyfriend fumbled around on the nightstand, trying to find the condom and lube while still kissing me. He finally gave up at multitasking, pushing me onto the bed and onto my back. He opened the condom and slipped it on skillfully, squirting some lube onto it and then ordering me to spread my legs so he could put some lube on my pussy as well. I happily complied. Now prepared for what he truly wanted to do, my boyfriend slipped his sheathed cock inside my pussy, and I wrapped my legs around his legs. Missionary is one of the worst positions for me in terms of cumming, but I still love it for the intimacy it provides while watching my lover reach his climax. My partner knew that, and he was happy to put on a show for me as he worked through the motions of reaching orgasm, thrusting and pounding inside me, moaning louder and louder as he finally released his load. When he collapsed on top of me in exhaustion and relief, I ran my hands through his long hair and held him close, listening to his breathing and feeling his sweat on his body. I loved the feeling of my man lying on my body post-orgasm.

Eventually, he regained his wits, and my boyfriend scooted off of me onto the bed with a smile. He removed the condom and put it on a tissue on the nightstand, and then moved back to me to kiss me and pull me close, both of us laying on our sides and facing each other. Now that the animalistic fucking was out of the way, the sex could finally begin between us.

Among the toys that my boyfriend was anxious to use that day was an underbed bondage set. He had bought it since his headboard wasn’t bondage friendly but he very much wanted to include bondage in his bedroom. He had already installed the straps under the mattress and had the cuffs waiting for my wrists and ankles. He gave my bottom a smack and ordered me, “Roll over on your stomach in the center of the bed so that I can tie you up and give you the spanking you deserve for being such a naughty girl and having sex with your boyfriend in the middle of a work day.”

Eager to comply, I placed a pillow on the center of the bed, and then I moved onto my stomach over the pillow while he stood next to the bed. He started with my right wrist, securing the hand in the restraint. He progressed down to the right ankle, binding it tightly as well. Next, my boyfriend scooted around the king-sized bed, cinching up my left ankle and finally immobilizing me completely by putting my leftt wrist into the restraint. I tried to wiggle, but he had me very tightly bound which is exactly what he wanted. He then pulled on my ponytail, forcing my eyes to look into his.

“You’re now totally under my command. You have no choice but to submit to what I’m going to do to you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied. He was right. At this point, I was his willing prisoner, anxious to see what he had in mind for our kinky fuckery that day.

He didn’t keep me waiting long as he released my hair and then grabbed a blindfold from his nightstand which he slipped over my eyes. Now I couldn’t move and I couldn’t see. The kinky suspense was building, and I was loving every minute of it. He traced his hands down my back and onto my bottom where he gently caressed my naked globes, his fingers meandering closer and closer to my asshole. He had a fondness for sticking his fingers in my ass without warning, an action I loved but that was not to be this time. Instead, he slapped my bottom briskly and then moved off the bed.

I could hear him rustling around in the shopping bag I had brought. What was he looking for? He’d given me a very specific list of things to bring that included his favorite toys of mine including that damn riding crop which I hated but he loved. Still, I was his submissive, and I was going to do what he asked of me, so I brought the crop. The noises from the bag stopped, and then I heard the lid pop open on the lube that was already on his nightstand. Since he had thoroughly lubed up my pussy earlier before he fucked it, I knew that could mean only one thing: he was about to insert the large butt plug I had brought along.

Sure enough, I felt the cold lube dripping down my crack as my boyfriend whispered in my ear, “Are you ready to take the butt plug like a good girl, Little One?”

“Yes, sir. Please put the butt plug in my naughty ass,” was my desperate reply. I loved having the butt plug inserted, and he knew it. It was a power trip for him to use my ass however he wanted, but he also got off on knowing that I wanted him to use me anally. Slowly I felt the very cold glass pressing into my ass, slipping gently in until it hit the point of resistance. Then, suddenly, there was the painful pop that always made me moan from a combination of pain and pleasure as the plug moved past my sphincter and all the way into my bottom. I tried to wiggle a bit as my boyfriend adjusted the plug to his liking, but there was no hope. He had me cinched tightly, so the wiggling of my bottom was all I could accomplish. My boyfriend took that as a sign that he needed to start spanking me.

“Hold still!” Daddy commanded as he smacked each side of my butt with his bare hand.

“Ow!” I responded to his sharp and unexpected spanks.

“Well,” he said, “If you’re not a cooperative little girl, then Daddy is going to spank you for not behaving. You should know this by now.”

I sighed. “Yes, Daddy,” and with that verbal acceptance, my boyfriend continued the spanking he had started. He was peppering my bottom thoroughly with spanks from his strong hand, occasionally letting the spanks fall onto my upper thighs which he knew was a turn on for me. As he spanked, I tried to hold still, but I was wiggling a bit. A girl can’t help it when her Daddy is reddening her bottom!

“Ok, Little One, I think you’ve had enough of a warm up. It’s time to punish you for having mid-day sex with your boyfriend like a naughty little slut,” he informed me.

“You do realize the irony of you spanking me for that…” I pointed out. He responded with a smack from an implement which elicited a yelp from me in return.

“Yes, but I’m not worried about logic at this point,” he said. “I’m more concerned with punishing your naughty bottom. Now tell me what it is I’m using on your bottom right now,” he commanded as he gave me several more swats.

“That’s the wooden hairbrush,” I replied.

“Correct!” He rewarded my answer with several more smacks of the hairbrush scattered around my bottom and thighs which more than got my attention.

“Daddy, I’ll be good,” I began promising.

“I very much doubt that!” he stated as he continued spanking. “This was your idea to come over here like a naughty girl and have sex with me in the middle of the day. That’s not the sign of a girl who plans to behave!”

“Ok, true,” I agreed with a laugh. “But I promise I’ll only misbehave with you, Daddy!”

“I’m ok with that,” he chuckled, “But I’m still going to keep spanking you.” And true to his word, I got several more swats with the hairbrush before I heard its wood clank against the nightstand when he set it down. However, I was certain that I wasn’t free from being spanked. Sure enough, another implement soon hit my tender bottom.

“Ouch!” I cried out. I heard my boyfriend chuckling with sadistic pleasure. He enjoyed spanking me every bit as much as I like having him spank me.

“So what am I using on your ass now, Little Girl?” he asked.

“The small leather paddle,” I replied.

“Correct!” he responded, and he rewarded my correct answer with a series of swats moving up one side and down the other of my bottom and legs.

“Daddy,” I began begging again, “I don’t think you need to spank me anymore.”

Suddenly the spanking stopped and I felt him jerk my head upward using my ponytail as a handle. He began talking directly into my ear.

“Who gets to decide when your spanking is finished?” he asked.

“You do, Daddy,” I replied with a semi-defiant sigh which was rewarded by a crack of the paddle on my ass while his other hand continued pulling my head back by its ponytail.

“That’s right, young lady,” he said, “And I am definitely not done spanking you yet. I am also not done fucking you either.”

With that, he released my head. I heard him putting down the paddle and picking up his next choice for torturing me. He began running it up and down my spine, moving past the butt plug and onto my pussy.

“That’s the damn crop!” I said even before he asked me.

“Correct again!” he replied, rewarding my unrequested answer with a sharp crack of the crop on my sit spot.

“OUCH!” I hollered out, and he laughed at my pain.

“It’s always so much fun to crop you,” he added. “So little work on my part and so much screaming on yours.”

I continued yelping and he continued randomly striking my bottom and thighs with the crop. Because he had my legs tightly stretched and bound, that meant the sensitive insides of my thighs were easily accessible with the crop, a situation he was happy to take advantage of. After quite a few targeted slaps to this most sensitive zone, I finally heard the crop set down on the nightstand.

“I’m ready to fuck you again,” he stated factually. “I’m going to loosen your legs so that you can get up on your knees with your butt in the air. I’m going fuck you from behind while your face is in the bed and your pussy is spread and open just for me.”

With that, he did as he had promised, loosening up the leg restraints just enough for me to get on my knees but not to move an inch more. I wasn’t going to be going anywhere he didn’t want me. I still had the blindfold on, a butt plug up my ass, a red bottom, and a very wet pussy. After getting me in the position he wanted me in, I heard him opening another condom from off of the nightstand, and then I assumed he was slipping it on his cock which was likely rock hard again after all of the kinky foreplay.

I felt the bed shift as he climbed back onto it. The next thing I knew, he was pulling the butt plug out of my ass. From previous sessions, he knew it was too uncomfortable for me when he vaginally fucked me in this position while the glass butt plug was still in, and pain was not the goal at this point. Instead, my boyfriend now wanted me to experience pure pleasure.

It didn’t take long for him to accomplish his goal. He plunged his cock deep into my wet pussy which caused me to call out loudly, “Oh, Daddy!” He laughed at my response, and he took it as a sign that I wanted more of the same. He continued thrusting his cock in and out of me, quickly causing my moans to get very loud. He already had me so aroused that it wasn’t going to take long before I burst into orgasm. With a few more powerful thrusts, I reached that point, screaming out, “Daddy! Oh, Daddy!” as I came. I tried to let my knees drop after the orgasm, but he stopped me with a sharp smack from his hand on my already reddened bottom.

“Did I tell you that you could change position?” he demanded.

“No, Daddy,” I truthfully responded.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to punish you for that, too,” he retorted, as if that wasn’t already part of his evil plan. I felt his still hard cock slipping out of my pussy, the arousal fluid and remaining lube dripping down my legs. My boyfriend stepped off the bed again, this time moving up to my right hand. He loosened the restraints on my wrist just enough for me to prop myself up; he repeated the same action on my left hand, too. I was now on my hands and knees with my red butt in the air and my blindfolded eyes facing the headboard. The only question was what he had planned next.

I soon found out as the mini-floggers came down on my bottom. I had one and he had one, so he liked putting one mini-flogger in each hand and thrashing my bottom with both, using one after the other in a rhythmic beating. He always started slowly, building up the pain and pleasure from the floggers’ bites. He was very good at using those floggers on me, better than anyone else who had ever tried. I was soon moaning both from pleasure and stinging pain as he repeatedly struck my sore ass, turning me on even more than I already was.

Suddenly, the flogging on my bottom stopped. Out of nowhere, he began flogging my shoulders. This was new and completely unexpected. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did I like it? Did I not? Once the shock of the novelty wore off, I decided that I preferred him flogging my ass, but the flogging of my shoulders made an interesting alternative. I requested, “Daddy, please flog my ass more,” and he happily complied, striking my bottom in rhythm with the music he had playing in the background.

When he could tell I was getting close to my breaking point, my boyfriend stopped the flogging. He dropped the implements on the bed, and then his hands began caressing my ass, a feeling I truly loved. His strong hands on my stinging ass were truly a treat. But he still wasn’t done with me. I felt him moving behind me once again, and then his cock suddenly plunged in my ass which was already lubed and waiting because of the butt plug I had been wearing earlier.

After all of the intense spanking foreplay, the anal sex was powerful in a way I had never experienced. I quickly began screaming with pleasure, “Oh God, Oh God, OH GOD!” as his cock pounded in and out of my ass, his abdomen slamming against my tender cheeks. I could tell my screams were only turning him on more, as he began pounding even harder and faster, bringing me to the brink of orgasm and then finally pushing me over in one of the most powerful orgasms I have ever had. As I came, I kept screaming, “Daddy! Oh God, Daddy!” The orgasm seemed like it went on for half of forever, and my pleasure pushed my boyfriend over the edge. I could hear his moans building until suddenly, he too found release. His body stiffened as his load released in my ass. We both held still for a few minutes until collapse seemed like the only option for us.

He released one of my legs and one of my arms from the restraints so I could lay on my side; he cuddled up behind me with his arm over my sweating and satisfied body. His heavy breathing was on my neck which his lips also gently brushed. I took off the blindfold and snuggled up closer to him, feeling his exhausted body pressing against mine.

One we had both recovered from the amazing orgasms we had just shared with each other, my boyfriend quipped, “I guess all the neighbors now know that my name is either Daddy or God.”

“Oh, God!” I exclaimed once again. “I was so lost in the play that I completely forgot we were in an apartment complex. I’m so sorry I was screaming so loudly.”

He laughed loudly and said, “Hey, remember? I’m an exhibitionist. I’m totally proud of the fact that my neighbors now know I can make a woman cum so hard that she screams the way you did.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” I giggled. I used my free hand to release my other hand, and then I released my one remaining restrained ankle. I rolled over so I could nuzzle my lover and kiss his lips again. My hands went to his beard, caressing and touching it with gratitude and pleasure after all we’d just shared.

Eventually we accepted that we needed to get on with our day, no matter how lovely the “nooner” had been. Four hours after I arrived and really needing to head to my last appointment of the day, I was finally leaving his place from what was supposed to be a one or two-hour fuck session. Considering our first time in bed together had lasted eight hours, we clearly were not  a couple for quickies. Even on the way out the door, we still had our hands and lips all over each other.

As I stepped onto the front porch, I turned back and put my arms around my lover’s shoulders. I gave him a deep kiss, and he returned the kiss. Something felt wrong, though. It took me a couple of kisses before I realized what it was.

“I’m not wearing any shoes,” I suddenly said to my boyfriend.

He looked down at my feet. “No, you’re not,” he laughed. “Maybe you should come back in and fix that problem.” And so I came back in his apartment, slipped on the shoes I had kicked off by the door on the way in, and headed back out the door for a second goodbye.

“You know it was a really great session when your boyfriend fucks you so well that forget to put on your shoes when you leave,” I said as I smiled and laughed. With that, I gave him one final kiss and headed back to my car with my bag of sex toys to face the real world again.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, Part 7

This post is a continuing series of spanking survey questions about my childhood. Previous parts are here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Did you ever volunteer for a spanking when you were a child by confessing something naughty you had done but your parents didn’t know about? No, I never volunteered for a spanking even when I knew I was guilty because my parents’ spankings were so horrible.

Did your parents ever let you choose a spanking versus another punishment option? Did you ever request a spanking over a grounding or other punishment? My parents never let me choose a punishment, and I never would have asked for a spanking over grounding. I wasn’t grounded often because after my parents stopped spanking me, I generally just stayed out of trouble. I can only remember being grounded once for something that no child should be grounded for, and my mother did that in a very sick, very twisted way that defies description. She was a very emotionally abusive woman.

Were you ever involved in a group spanking where many kids were spanked at once for the same “crime”? No, nor did I ever witness one.

Did your parents ever give you the warning of “If you don’t do X by the count of three, you’re getting a spanking. 1…”? How high did your parents count before giving you a spanking?  My parents counted to 3, and then they spanked on the spot. Often there was no warning before the spanking. Some friends’ parents counted to 5. I remember being at one friend’s house and having a parent of theirs threaten to count to 10. I remember thinking, “They get until 10? Wow. That’s a lot of time to comply.”

Did you ever volunteer to take the blame and the spanking for a sibling or a friend? I never did and never would have because my parents were so violent. It never came up as an option either. As an adult, though, I willingly take my Doms’ birthday spankings for them. 🙂

Did you ever do something stupid as a result of a bet with someone when you were young and then got spanked for it? No. I was a sensible kid who was more likely the one to tell others not to do something stupid.

Did you ever tell your parents that the spanking didn’t hurt?  I’d bet almost all kids make this mistake once and only once because then the parent follows up with a spanking that they make sure really does hurt. I did this, I’m sure. I just don’t remember the exact details around it. I am sure it was after getting a warning spank that ended up in a “real” spanking, though.

When you were a child, were you ever sentenced to several spankings on consecutive days for the same event (such as a spanking every night for a week for unruly behavior)?  Mercifully, no, I never received anything like this as a child.

Would you ever want to be spanked again by one of your parents as an adult? Hell no!

As an adult, have you talked to your parents or your siblings about your childhood spankings? No. We don’t have that kind of relationship.

Did you ever wish for another adult to spank you as a child than the ones that already did? The thought never crossed my mind. I assumed all spankings were horrible and violent and I wouldn’t have wanted one of those from someone I loved or I wanted to love me.

Did you masturbate after your spankings as a child? No. I grew up in a Catholic home where I was taught masturbation was a sin. I also was not aroused after my childhood spankings at all. I was traumatized.

Do you find you have an attraction to spanking porn/art/erotica/photos from the era when you were a child? I do. I like 1970s and 1980s spanking erotica, probably because I was spanked in those eras as a child.

Have you recreated any of your childhood spankings as an adult during roleplay? No, not yet. I would possibly consider doing some reparenting therapy/roleplay once I have a trusted partner. It’s going to take a lot of trust for this to ever happen, though.

Did you ever make a New Year’s resolution to get less spankings the next year? It wasn’t a resolution as much as a major hope as a child that I would get spanked less (hopefully never!) the next year. Since I didn’t feel like I had control over when and why I got spanked because spankings weren’t tied to my behavior, it wasn’t something I could resolve to change.

As an adult, though, I’m always hoping the next year brings lots more fun spanking with a wonderful lover!

Do you have the spanking implements that were used on you as a child and are they used on you as an adult? My parents only used their hands most of the time, so no, I don’t have those!

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Standing at the Intersection

(This is a random memory of a past lover. His name has been changed to protect his identity though he certainly isn’t innocent!)

I had just begun dating a new lover. We had only been out a few times, and we’d always ended up back at my place due to logistics. When an opportunity popped up for me to go over to his place for the evening, we decided to take advantage of it. He had only told me the largest intersection he lived near; he hadn’t given me an exact address yet because I hadn’t needed it.

As we texted in preparing for the date, I asked him if I could get the exact address where he lived. I told him that I could go to the big intersection near his house and stand there and call out, “Hey! Does anyone know where Mark lives? I want to go over to his place so he can fuck me in the ass.” However, I was convinced that I would suddenly meet a lot of guys named “Mark” at that point.

My lover agreed that not only would I meet a lot of men named Mark, but in his neighborhood, I would meet a lot of men named Marcos, too!

Thankfully, he gave me his exact address so I didn’t have to go stand in the intersection looking for him. I found his place easily, and he did an excellent job of fucking me in the ass. I’m guessing people at that nearby intersection probably got to hear my screams of pleasure when he did! 🙂

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, Part 6

This post is a continuing series of spanking survey questions about my childhood. This one drained me emotionally to write, so it’s taken longer to get on paper since I could only handle a little at a time. Previous parts of the survey are here: one, two, three, four, five.

Did you hear spanking threats? Yes, as a child and as an adult. I probably heard them far more often as a child than I actually remember. What’s below are just the ones I can recall because they were memorable for various reasons.

One day I was at a neighbor’s house for lunch. We were probably both about five. His mother was one of the only ones in the neighborhood who worked outside of the home, so he and his sister had a nanny. She was a grandmother type, though she always seemed crabby to me. I forget what he did or said, but she picked up a wooden spoon and started to threaten him. He didn’t get the spanking, but I am certain she spanked him with the spoon on many other occasions!

Another time I was over at a friend’s house. We were both around 6 or 7. I have no recollection of what transpired before the threat, but her father was sitting in a recliner and we were sitting on the floor in the family room about 10 feet away. Her dad said, “Sally, drop your pants.” She just giggled hysterically. I was sitting there in shock, worried about what was going to happen. He repeated his command for her to drop her pants again, and she just laughed again. Nothing else ended up happening at that time. I don’t know if this was code or what.

As an adult, I heard several, too. One that stands out was a two year old niece talking about spanking and her parents trying to stop her from talking about it since they knew it was not a parenting technique that was widely accepted by that point in the 1990s. When we were out at dinner once with the same niece, she was fidgeting a bit. It was taking forever (like over an hour) before our food arrived, and all things considered, she was behaving amazingly well. However, her mother still gave her a very stern and angry threat of, “Do you want to go out to the car with me?” Clearly this was an experience that our niece had already had as she quickly shook her head no and became perfectly still.

Another time we were having a party with a lot of friends and their kids over. It was time to go and the one young boy of about three was refusing to put on his shoes to leave. His father threatened him, “Do you want a spanking?” I was horrified. I didn’t know then and am still not sure now how to have told him, “I am not ok with you spanking your child in my house.”

In my twenties, I worked for several years teaching students who were 11-15. This was in a small town in Texas where belts are still commonly used to discipline kids in this age group, especially in certain communities. It isn’t considered shameful at all: Parent proudly boasted about taking belts to their kids. No one within the communities is going to disagree because they all do the same to their kids. Over my years of teaching, I heard many threats to students from their parents. These are some of the more memorable ones.

I had one student whose behavior was out of control; she was acting out for other teachers as well but was particularly acting out in my class because of some boys she was flirting with. She was going to end up unintentionally pregnant at the rate she was going given the norms of that community. I called her aunt who was her guardian, and we set up a meeting the next day with her aunt, her, me, and a few other teachers. During the meeting, the aunt announced, “I whipped her butt good with my belt last night. Real good. I let her have it.” The student’s eyes filled with tears both from embarrassment and from the memory of the beating, I’m sure.

Another year, we had a male student who was acting like a little monster. All of his teachers had had it with him. One of the other teachers called his mother in for a conference. She was shocked and infuriated by his behavior. She had no idea he was acting like that at school. She started chewing him out in front of the teachers including saying, “I am so mad at you. If I had known this conference was going to be this bad, I would have brought my belt and whipped you with your teachers watching. I am furious.” I have no doubt she would have. I am also sure he got it when he got home. For the rest of the year, he was a complete angel for all of us.

Because the community I taught in was so small, there were a lot of interconnections between students and staff. One of the regular substitute teachers was good friends with the father one of the students we had trouble with on a regular basis. The one day I was near the substitute teacher when he was telling the troublesome student, “Your father would have no problem with me taking a belt to your backside. If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to take you in that office and give it to you good.” Again, I am sure he would have followed through on that promise. Even though it was technically against district policy for staff to use corporal punishment, I am sure no one would have complained.

One year, I had a student who was hearing but had two deaf parents. They came to “Back to School Night” with an ASL interpreter. Because of the communication difficulties between us, I had not spoken with them previously. I told them through the interpreter that their son was being uncooperative during class. Despite not understanding ASL, I had no problem telling that the father turned to the son and gave him a very angry lecture. His head hung in shame and tears started. I would not be surprised if he got the belt when they got home.

One of the most disturbing conversations I had as a teacher involved other teachers condoning abuse of one of the students. There was a female student who started harassing me in the hallway in between classes, calling me names and being rude and insolent. Yes, I was a teacher and yet she decided to start bullying me. She was not in any of my classes—she just decided to be rude for fun. When I told another teacher what happened, she told me, “Call her Daddy. He will beat her. Let him. Don’t call CPS. She deserves it.” I agree that the girl deserved consequences for what she was doing, but I don’t think the other teacher could understand that the abuse she was receiving at home was likely why she was bullying others as she misdirected her anger about her abuse. No child, no matter how rude or obnoxious, “deserves” to be abused.

Did you witness any others being spanked? Yes. Some of the following stories are hearing others be spanked rather than actually seeing.

There was of course my younger brother. I only have memories of him being spanked three times, though I am certain there were more. One was when he and I were little and were spanked together by our mother. Another time was when he was about 10 and got into a fight with my mother which he very much lost. The third was when he was in middle school, and it was outright abuse involving hitting and kicking by my father.

I also witnessed my mom hitting our dogs. One incident in particular stand out in my mind. My mother had a bad day, and the one dog got into the trash which she had left in a place easily accessible to the dog with tempting morsels (to a dog) in the trash. My mother beat the crap out of the dog. It was not ok. It was not disciplinary. It was abuse. That incident was one of the ones which helped give me perspective on how my parents abused me rather than disciplined me. Because I wasn’t the one being hit, I could tell how long and how hard she hit the dog. She was out of control.

There was an incident when I was about 6 when I witnessed a neighbor get spanked. She was a year older than me, but we played together in the summers due to a lack of other girls on our street. She didn’t play with me during the school year, though, because she considered herself older than me and therefore not willing to play with someone who was “so young.” Anyway, during this incident, her mother came storming into the kitchen and began slapping her daughter, followed by her pulling down her daughter’s pants and underwear; she was spanking her daughter with her hand while seated with her daughter over her knee. She was violently hitting her daughter out of anger. I don’t even remember what the friend had done to merit this treatment in her mother’s mind, but it was nothing we were doing at the time. The spanking just happened out of nowhere. I literally couldn’t watch because it was so terrifying for me. Once her mother pulled down her pants, I turned so I couldn’t see what was going on. I just stood there, frozen, until it was over. Once her mother stood her up, she told my friend, “Take your friend to the door and say goodbye.” I still don’t understand why she couldn’t have sent me home before spanking her daughter. Clearly she was too angry to give her daughter that dignity. As my crying friend walked me to the front door, I wasn’t sure what to do or say, so I told her, “I didn’t watch.” Between her tears, she said, “Thanks.” We never mentioned the incident again.

I semi-witnessed another cousin being spanked several times when we were growing up. Honestly, I was not and am not a fan of this particular cousin. I always thought he was a sniveling brat. He was an only child who acted like an only child—unable to play nicely with others except when he got his way. He was a few years younger than me, closer in age to my brother than me. The two of them would often play together leaving me out of their games which didn’t contribute positively toward my feelings for either of them. Anyway, the first spanking was on Christmas Eve at our grandparents when my cousin was about 3 or 4. My cousin was being a whiny brat, tantruming about everything. My uncle finally ran out of patience, scooped up my cousin, and took him out to the car. For some reason I asked my dad, “What’s going to happen to him?” My father very angrily said, “Exactly what would happen to you if you were acting like that.” Clearly my cousin’s behavior had made my father angry, too. I decided it would be a good time to make myself scarce given how angry my father was about his nephew’s behavior. Ten or fifteen minutes later, my uncle brought back in a sniffing, red-faced cousin who was much more subdued for the rest of the evening.

The other time I remember that cousin being spanked is much more hazy. I am fairly sure it was his father (my uncle) who did the spanking again though I know his mother did also spank. I can’t remember if we were upstairs in his room at his house or if we were downstairs in the playroom, but his father took him to the opposite place from where we were and spanked him because he wasn’t getting along with any of the other cousins who were there at the gathering.

I had another cousin on the same side of the family who was spanked by her parents, too. I indirectly witnessed one of the spankings and heard in detail about another. She was also an only child because her parents married late in life. My cousin was much younger than me as a result, so I ended up doing a lot of free babysitting for them when I was in high school. I had actually thought my aunt was anti-spanking based on one conversation we had wherein she told me spanking was not a good discipline method but people in our nation still used it. Surprisingly to me, I witnessed her giving one of those spankings to my cousin. I had come over after school to eat dinner with them before my aunt and uncle went out for the evening. My 5 year old cousin wanted an apple an hour before dinner. She was capable of getting the apple, washing it, and eating it on her own. Her mother refused because she was going to “ruin her dinner.” I’ve never understood this argument. If a growing child is hungry and wants a truly nutritious snack, let the child eat it. It’s not ruining dinner. It’s supplementing it. However, my aunt was overtired from work and got tired of my cousin whining about how she was hungry, so my aunt began a very violent spanking of my cousin while escorting my cousin up to her room to stay until dinner time. I was very shocked by the whole incident.

The other incident with that cousin also occurred when she was five, a few months after the previous spanking. I was at her family’s house for dinner again, and my aunt and uncle began discussing a spanking that had happened the previous day much to my cousin’s embarrassment. I felt truly sorry for her. They were taunting her and mocking her, asking what had happened to her the previous day when she was playing with her friend. She said, “I forget.” To that, my aunt asked my cousin if she needed a reminder of what happened, and my cousin got a horrified look on her face and shook her head violently “no.” My aunt and uncle found this hysterical. Later after dinner when we were doing dishes, my aunt let me know that my cousin had been playing with a neighborhood friend who always got her into trouble. The friend talked my cousin into playing with some of her dad’s hobby equipment which they broke (though it could be repaired with a lot of time and effort). My uncle was furious; he sent the friend home and then gave my cousin “a very harsh spanking” according to my aunt. They decided at that point that my cousin shouldn’t be allowed to play with that friend anymore since he only got her in trouble.

The only public spanking I ever witnessed was when I was home from college one year for Christmas. I watched a very angry father screaming at a young boy (maybe six years old) while the father dragged the son out of a Hallmark store by one arm. The father was using his other arm to violently spank the child anywhere hits could land on the way to their car where I’m sure the child was going to get even worse. To this day, I regret not speaking out. The scene wasn’t a reasonable parent disciplining a child. This was very much an abusive father damaging his son both mentally and physically.

Another spanking (or perhaps it is better described as a slapping) I witnessed happened when I was an adult and mother. I was at a gathering of friends with some of our kids present. One of the women had a son who was six months older than my son; they were about 15 months and 9 months old. Her more mobile son started hitting my son for no real reason. I was not upset. This is not an unusual behavior for kids that age as they explore others’ bodies and try to understand actions and reactions. However, the mother got very upset with her son and started slapping his hands hard while telling him “no!” repeatedly along with some other lecturing. Of course, after the first slap, her son started crying hysterically and was hearing nothing she was saying. I was not a fan of this woman’s parenting, but this incident sealed it for me. She truly overreacted to what happened. I always felt like she parented in a way that was showing off towards others who were watching.

The only spanking I have ever witnessed that I think was handled in an appropriate way was when I was in high school. The boy in question was 3, and I used to babysit for the family who were neighbors. We lived in an area where many people didn’t have air conditioning; open windows with screens were the way of cooling the house. This three year old boy had started the “game” of unlocking the screens and pushing them out the second floor windows. Since he was so young and he had a two year old sibling, this was a truly dangerous thing. I knocked on the front door and let the mother know that one of the screens was out of the windows upstairs. She thanked me profusely. Then, through the open windows, I heard her talking calmly to her son. “Tony,” she said, “I told you that if you pushed the screens out of the windows again I would spank you. You didn’t listen to me, so I am going to have to spank you.” A few seconds later I heard the sound of her hand on his bare bottom slapping three times. That was enough to make him cry and to get her point across. Never again did I see screens out of their windows. I felt guilty for years for having gotten him spanked until I realized a) I had no idea that she would spank him and b) it was a truly dangerous situation. The mom had already talked to him, but he hadn’t listened. She didn’t spank out of anger. She didn’t spank excessively. This was a case where if spanking is acceptable, the parent spanked appropriately. The fact that it’s the only spanking I ever heard or witnessed that could be considered reasonable tells me how often what we label as spanking is actually abuse of children by angry parents.

Did you like watching others be spanked? No. As a young child, I found spankings terrifying. I think this was because I had never seen one given in a loving manner. They were all the same in my mind: A very angry adult lashes out at a child, often for no apparent reason. They were not calm. They were not structured. They were not loving. Only one spanking I witnessed when I was a teen falls outside of those parameters.

As an adult, I still have no desire to watch others spankings in real life, and thus I have no desire to go to spanking parties. Different consenting adults like different things from their spankings, and for me, many of those things are triggering. If I am watching spanking videos at home, I can just turn off the video if I don’t like it. Going to the “cookie” room is not going to be far enough away in a party environment. I will still be able to hear what is going on.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, Part 5

(I swear this is going to be at least a ten part series at this rate.)

This post is a continuing series of spanking survey questions about my childhood. Part one starts here, part two is here, part three is here, and part four is here.

Did you play spanking games with friends? Only with one when I was about 9. We were playing house and I gave her a bare bottom spanking. It was a game we only played twice.

I also played house and gave bare bottom spankings with two families/three kids whom I babysat. I was 11-12 at the time, and they were 5, 7 and 8. I only played once with the one kid and once or twice with the others.

What’s fascinating to me is that I was always the spanker in these games even though I am very much a sub now and have never spanked an adult. I think at that time while I was a budding spanko, I wanted to be the spanker to regain some of the control I didn’t have in my own life. Instead of being the victim of the spankings, I got to be the one who controlled and administered them.

Were your friends spanked as teens? I only know for certain one college friend who was spanked as a teen and who knew she would continue to be spanked as a college student when she went home if she didn’t follow her parents’ rules. She was from rural Texas, and her family used a belt. The way I found out was a conversation in which we were talking about something completely irrelevant to spanking, but she commented, “If I had done that, my dad would have nailed my butt to the wall.” Her eyes teared up as she said it. Clearly her beltings were painful experiences.

I have a high school friend whom all of us very much suspect was spanked as a teen. Her parents were emotionally abusive, and I know her mother slapped her fairly often. I assume her alcoholic father did more. What’s worse is that she now abuses her young children, spanking them for anything and everything “because that’s how I was raised.”

I have another high school friend whom I suspect was spanked but she never discussed it. Her parents were immigrants from the Philippines. When she would sit some days, it was a very delicate maneuver. I think I may have been the only one who noticed, though.

Did you talk about spanking with your friends? Yes, infrequently, though I was always very interested in the conversation when it happened. I was reluctant to share details of my spankings, though. Almost all kids of the 1970s and 1980s were spanked. I only know of one friend who was never spanked by her parents; she is the exception to the rule. It was just presumed you were spanked and your friends were spanked. I don’t have any idea how old most of my friends were when their spankings stopped.

I remember numerous conversations with peers. The first conversation I remember having was in grade school with two boys who were the same age as me when we were about 6. We were sitting in our front yard talking. We all admitted to being spanked, and the boys went into greater detail about theirs. I don’t remember much of what was said. Both boys agreed the belt was the worst; one said that the buckle end of the belt was brutal. I have no idea if his dad had actually already used a belt buckle on him or if he was just talking about what he’d seen his older brothers get but was bragging about it like it was him. Up until that point, I had no idea people could get spankings with belts.

I remember one neighborhood friend asking me if I was spanked. I think she had been recently spanked with a hairbrush and that was why she was asking. We were probably in second grade or about 7 years old.

The next memory I have of discussing spanking was in middle school. One of my friends was describing with great animation an incident that had happened in her family the day before. Her younger half-brother had walked in the door crying and with a torn shirt. When she asked what had happened, her mother related the tale of his poor tail. She said that he smarted off to her mother while they were driving home, so his mother pulled over to give him a spanking. As she went to grab him from the middle row of seats in the station wagon, he jumped into the back. Her mother had managed to get part of his shirt which ripped. She then opened the trunk of the station wagon, managed to grab him, and gave him a really hard bare bottom spanking for his original disobedience and trying to avoid his spanking.

In high school, I know the group of girls I hung out with had a discussion about being spanked as a child. It didn’t include discussions of who was still being spanked. The only thing I really remember from the discussion was the one friend revealing that she had never been spanked—not even once. I’ve since learned that her mother is very emotionally abusive, though. After this discussion, the one girl in the group who was abused through high school would declare any time that she didn’t like what the unspanked friend had done that the unspanked friend was a brat and should have been spanked as a child.

Once when I was at a friend’s house during high school, the mail came. In the mail was the mid-semester failure notice the school sent out when a student was in danger of not passing a class. The friend’s mother was very angry and made a show of going in her husband’s office and placing the letter there. My friend was begging her mother not to tell her stepfather, but her mother said she had to. Based on the tears in my friend’s eyes, I knew there were going to be serious repercussions. I asked her if she was going to be ok. She choked on her tears and said, “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” but I got the distinct feeling she was going to be spanked before she was fine!

Another time in high school, a male friend was boasting about how his parents were having to spank his brother every single day lately because of his behavior. His brother was in middle school and was rebelling a lot. The way his parents were handling the situation made me very uncomfortable even then. That brother ended up having major drug issues as an adult.

During high school, a close friend and I were talking about spankings. She said she especially hated those with the hairbrush—those were the worst. Years later, I saw a discussion between her and her siblings on Facebook. It seems that only the older kids were spanked with the hairbrush. The youngest said he always jokes that his parents wore out the hairbrush on his older siblings which is why he never got it.

In college, I remember being at my roommate’s house. She mentioned that her father would spank her as a child for not eating what her mother made for dinner because her father considered it disrespect towards her mother. You know those awful 1970s recipes that circulate the web? The things her mother made for dinner were even worse than that. I understood why she chose the spankings sometimes after hearing about some of the dishes her mom made!

Another time the same roommate told me about a joke she told at the dinner table. Her father didn’t find the joke funny and decided to spank her then and there. She tried to get away and failed. With tears in her eyes, she said, “He really tore up my butt that time.” It seemed like her father was a brutal spanker and was willing to find reasons to spank.

The first person I talked to who had been spanked in school was a college friend. I was shocked to learn that spanking was allowed in her schools because it never had been in mine. She told me that in grade school they called it “getting licks.” I forget exactly what she had done in kindergarten, but I think it was talking when she wasn’t supposed to. Her teacher put her over her lap while they were sitting on the floor in a circle, lifted her skirt, and gave her a few “licks” over her panties with a small paddle. The friend said she was horribly humiliated by the whole thing and never did anything to get spanked again in school as a result.

When I was in college, the discussion about spanking as discipline came up in a class for future teachers. Looking back, the professor must have been a spanko though her official position was that she could not condone spanking as discipline in the schools. She let the conversation derail the entire class. The look on her face during the discussion is one I now recognize as someone trying to mask arousal. The class was divided about 50-50 as to whether or not spanking should be allowed in the schools. There was also some discussion about parents spanking kids. The only specific comment I remember was from one guy who said, “The only choice my kids are going to get around discipline is which belt they want me to use on them when I sent to them to fetch one.”

My ex-husband and I actually only had one conversation about his childhood spankings. He said his mother would give him a warning, and then if he didn’t comply, she would let him know he was getting a spanking. She would pull down his pants and give him a few swats on his bare bottom. He said nothing about his siblings’ spankings. His dad never spanked him, and I later learned his dad’s mom never spanked his dad. I don’t know about his dad’s dad. I’m certain his mom was spanked by both of her parents but it was never discussed.

Another guy I briefly dated was babysat by his grandma during summer vacations while his mom worked. He said that if he and his brother acted up, she would tell them to go pick a switch. He said he and his brother would just go outside and make a run for it. By the time they came back later that day, she would have cooled off, so they rarely actually got switched by her. He considered her to be a very mean woman, though.

Surprisingly, I haven’t discussed childhood spankings with any of the other men I’ve dated, probably because I wasn’t willing to discuss mine in detail.

One day when I was on a lunch break at work, one of my coworkers began talking about her 2 year old son. She also had a 5 year old daughter who wasn’t the handful her son was. She was saying how when her son woke up from his nap one day that week, he started coloring on the wall in his room with crayons so she gave him a bare bottom spanking. He did it again a second time on another day that week, so she gave him a harder bare bottom spanking. She said, “I am not abusing him, but I can see how parents could escalate to abuse because he’s not learning from the spankings.” Even at that time I was wondering why she didn’t just take the crayons away to stop him from coloring on the walls. However, since I didn’t have children so I didn’t feel qualified to give advice and because I was younger than her, I just kept my mouth shut.

My first exposure to Domestic Discipline relationships (though I didn’t know the name at that point) was when a friend and I went shopping as childless married young adults. We had walked around the mall, mainly enjoying each other’s company and not buying anything because we didn’t find anything we needed. As we walked out the door of the mall, she said, to me in a very worried voice, “My husband is going to spank me. I was supposed to buy something for myself and I didn’t.” I asked her if she wanted to go back in and look for something for herself since we didn’t have any kind of time restrictions, and she said no, but he was going to spank her for it. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just go back in and buy something since it sounded like she didn’t want the spanking. Later, I was at the same friend’s house for dinner (without my husband) when she tried a new recipe that her husband didn’t like. He gave her a very damning look; her response that made me think she was going to be punished for it after I left.

When we were reminiscing as adults, one friend talked about how a boy at school had called her by a racial slur. This girl told her mother who told her father. Her father was the boy’s father’s boss! So her father went over to the boy’s house and spoke to his father. The friend said the boy’s father “beat his ass good” in front of her father.

Once we had kids, one of the things that happened was our friend set changed because of differences in how we raised our kids. We all naturally gravitated towards others who parented more similar to our own styles, and that included beliefs about spanking. Before we stopped hanging out with some of our pro-spanking friends, though, there were a few conversations about spanking. The one friend and her husband started out as anti-spanking but changed their minds when their daughter was about four. She told me at that point that her greatest regret was that they hadn’t started spanking sooner and more often.

Another friend seemed anti-spanking, but her husband was not, and so she deferred to him about spankings. However, she said, “It’s just best if I’m not around when he discipline’s the kids.” One day her husband was boasting about having spanked their three year old son for having thrown a ball in the house which hit a glass object but didn’t break it. His words were, “I popped that kid so fast he didn’t see it coming.”

Spanking sometimes came up on mothering listservs I was on, too. Most of the crowds I hung out with were pretty anti-spanking, but there were always a few vocal spankers. The one mother had almost enough kids to make a baseball team. She said that she used a small paddle which she kept on the kitchen counter and didn’t hesitate to use it. According to her, all she had to do was take a step toward the paddle and her misbehaving child would immediately comply without her having to say a word. She said that she spanked them often as younger children and didn’t have to at all once they were older as a result.

Another mother discussed a spanking of her child that made me really sad for that child. The child has intellectual disabilities, and so I never felt like the way they parented him was appropriate for the abilities he had. This child had hit his baby brother at one point, and so his father “punished him in a way that made sure he would never do that again.” I have no idea what actually happened to the boy, but I’m sure it involved corporal punishment.

One other mother discussed how she had started spanking her son at age 8 because she couldn’t handle his intellectual disabilities anymore. She realized how wrong what she was doing, so she got herself into therapy to help her find ways to work with her son’s limitations without spanking.

In another discussion I saw on Facebook, I saw a friend’s sister talking about how she was never spanked because she was such an angel (wink, wink), but she remembers a time when it seemed like two of her brothers were getting spanked almost daily because of their bad behavior.

And finally, not that long ago, a receptionist at my doctor’s office was talking about how her six year old son liked to pee in the shower rather than the toilet (not when taking a shower). She hated it because it made the bathroom smell because he didn’t rinse the shower afterward. She said that the day before she didn’t hear the toilet flush after he’d been in the bathroom, so she asked, “Did you pee in the shower without rinsing it or am I going to have to spank you again?” She said he didn’t answer but went running off to the bathroom where she heard the shower water running. She thought it was really funny. Me, not so much.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, part 3

This is continuing a series of spanking questions I have found around the internet about childhood spankings. Part 1 can be found here. Part 2 can be found here.

How sore your bottom was after a typical spanking? I was always very sore for several hours afterward but completely fine physically by the next day. Sitting down was definitely a reminder of what had been done to me.

On a scale of 1-10 how much did the average spanking hurt? In my child’s mind, 10. As an adult in retrospect, I don’t know. I didn’t have any other experience of pain as a child except occasionally falling off a bike and skinning a knee.

Were you ever spanked for something you don’t feel you deserved? Yes. Almost every single spanking was undeserved. My parents had no great parenting skills to speak of. They didn’t have the concept of logical consequences. They were punishing, not disciplining.

Was your spanking ever interrupted by a doorbell, phone, or visitor? Never.

Were your spankings ever delayed? Only if we were in public and I was promised a spanking when we got home, so that wouldn’t have been more than a few hours at most.

Did you ever have to wait to get your spanking? Not longer than a few seconds most of the time.

Were you ever spanked before school? Yes, but I don’t have specific memories about it. I do remember being worried people on the bus would know what happened to me that morning.

With what word did your mom or dad refer to your “bottom”? Bottom, butt, rear end.

What did you do or say when someone said, “You’re going to be spanked”? Often they didn’t even declare it—they just got the look on their face that I knew a spanking was coming. Then they would grab me, pull down my underwear and start spanking within a few seconds of getting that look of rage on their faces.

When they did use some kind of words to tell me I was about to be spanked, I generally screamed, sometimes screaming the word, “No!”, and then tried to run which was never successful as they always caught me within a few steps.

Were you ever bruised by a spanking? I don’t think so, though I’ve always bruised fairly easily just from bumping into things or falling. I really didn’t have a good mirror to check myself with. The only full-length mirror was in my parents’ room, and I sure wasn’t going in there to see the damage. It would have only given them ideas that it wasn’t red enough!

How young were you when you received your first spanking? Probably before I was mobile. I honestly don’t know. I know I was being spanked well before I turned two. My mother loved to brag about her spanking skills by telling other people stories– one in particular of spanking me when I was younger than two.

Did you face corner time after a spanking? Never. This was something I hadn’t even heard of until the invention of the internet.

At one of my many grade schools, one of the ultimate punishments was losing recess and being forced to stand facing the outside wall of the school for the entire time while others were playing. The teachers had to bring everyone to the playground, and they didn’t want students even getting the pleasure of watching other kids play. The boredom of staring at the wall was far more torturous at that age. I only had to do this once when the teacher issued this punishment to the entire class even though I was doing nothing wrong at the time. I still remember staring at the red brick wall.

What happened to you after spankings? I was either left on the floor, sent to my room, or if I was already in my room, I was told to stay there until the parent who administered the spanking decided I could leave (which often was the next day).

Were you ever spanked in a car? Probably, but I don’t have memories of it.

Were you ever spanked in a public restroom? Possibly, but I don’t have memories of it.

Were you ever given enemas or other types of physical punishments sometimes coupled with spankings? No. I never received a soaping either but it was threatened for tone of voice and attitude.

How did you feel after a spanking? Traumatized, unjustly punished, resentful, angry, ashamed, embarrassed, sad, upset, hated, unloved, unwanted.

Did your parents ever tell you that this would hurt them more than you? Nope. Neither of them disliked spanking their children. It wasn’t even that they considered it a duty. I don’t think they got sexual pleasure from spanking me (though I think my mother may have from spanking my brother). I do think they got anger and stress relief from spanking us at our expense.

Did your spanker hug/kiss/tell you they love you, right after the spanking? Never. They didn’t even do this when I hadn’t been punished. They almost always let me know how disappointed, angry, ashamed or disgusted they were with me after spanking me, though.

Do you remember ever doubting their love for you because of a spanking? Every single time.

Did they ever feel like they spanked you unjustly? I was never spanked for something I didn’t do, but spankings were also not appropriate punishments for the majority of what I was spanked for.

Did they ever tell you that you were too old to be spanked? No, which is part of why I lived in fear until I left their house.

Did they ever tell you that you were not too old to be spanked? No, but my dad told my brother as a teen that my brother “was not too big to put across his knee,” so I knew the same was true for me.

Would you mind if they spanked you, for a good reason, in your adult years? I don’t have good relationships with either of my parents. If either of them tried to lay a hand on me, I’d call the police for assault. I don’t respect them, I don’t like them, I don’t love them, and I do my best to avoid interacting with them.

How long were your spankings? I have no idea. When you are hanging over someone’s lap struggling against the pain and screaming in fear, time becomes irrelevant because it seems like it is lasting forever. I suspect most of them were less than two minutes of hard bare-bottomed spanking, but I have no idea.

Do you think spanking was better or worse than most of the other punishments your parents or guardians used? It was by far the most traumatic. Some of the other punishments like denying me food also have left lifelong trauma on my brain, but it was the fear of being spanked that created so much terror in my childhood.

How were your parents disciplined? I’m not sure entirely. I know they were both spanked from conversations with the extended family. My mother was probably beaten but I don’t know with what. My father had a belt used on him at times.

Were your parents in a domestic discipline relationship? Not that I know of, but it is a male income provider, woman housemaker type marriage. The general opinion in the extended family is that it is wrong to spank or hit adults but children are fair game; in their opinions, kids deserve and need it.

Where were you spanked besides your bottom? Only on my bottom. I only had my thighs smacked for warning spanks if I was wearing shorts (of the 70s and 80s very short variety) so that it would be on bare skin and would make more of an impact. I was slapped in the face a few times as a child but my mother mainly used slapping my face in middle school and high school.

Did you feel embarrassed to get a spanking from your parent/guardian? Always. Nudity was considered shameful in our house, so being seen bare bottomed was part of embarrassment. Being told I was bad also created shame. The act of spanking me just heaped on more embarrassment because it was something I knew I had to hide from non-family members because it showed what a bad person I was, and I didn’t want anyone thinking that of me.

Did you want to be spanked as a child? Absolutely not. I was terrified of being spanked. My experiences with spanking at home were so severe that I didn’t have fantasies of being spanked by friend’s parents or anything of the like.

Did you try to earn a spanking as a child? Hell no. I spent my entire childhood trying to avoid them.

Did you ever try to get friends spanked? No. I didn’t like my spankings, and I wouldn’t have wanted to put them through what I went through.

Did you ever try to get siblings spanked? I would tattle on my brother if he was doing something wrong, but he usually didn’t get spanked for whatever he was doing. I got spanked for tattling on occasion, though. Of course, if I hadn’t tattled, I would have been blamed for not stopping him because I was older and should have known better.

Were you a well-behaved child? Yes. I was too terrified most of the time not to be.

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