My contribution revolves around two very special days . My story also revolves around two, fun -loving, modern mothers – my own mother being one, the other being the mother of my friend
My tale concerns two rather remarkable days, and two most agreeable, modern mothers—my own dear mother, and the mother of my friend, Adam. These two ladies remain the closest of companions. Adam and I, though still friends, see less of each other now that he has gone away to further his education. Nevertheless, I often see his mother and his sister.
In my youth, the notion of corporal punishment was not unfamiliar, though it was more often encountered in old films or stories than in reality. Most such tales, alas, depicted men chastising women, and there were precious few accounts of ladies disciplining young gentlemen.
As for myself, I cannot recall ever having been punished in any meaningful fashion. There were no groundings, no being sent to my room, nor the removal of toys or games. Nothing of the sort.
My narrative truly begins when Adam, quite offhandedly, recounted the details of a playful birthday chastisement bestowed upon his elder sister. I recall my astonishment at this revelation.
Our family had been invited to a birthday celebration across the road. After a time, Adam and I slipped away to his room to play a computer game, for, after all, it was a party for girls, not boys.
I listened in disbelief as Adam described how his mother had given his sister a birthday spanking—lighthearted smacks, and one extra “to grow on.” The event had taken place in the morning, before any guests had arrived.
I must have pestered Adam with a thousand questions, eager for every detail. It transpired that his sister had been chased about the lounge by both her mother and father, until at last her mother, with a little assistance from her father, caught her and, after a playful struggle, placed her across her knee. Adam had entered the room amidst the commotion, and the family counted the smacks aloud together. Adam assured me it was all great fun.
I was quite beside myself with excitement at this news. I inquired whether Adam himself had ever been spanked, and he replied in the negative, though his parents had warned him to be “afraid, very afraid” on his next birthday. I found myself quite unable to concentrate on our game, so distracted was I by these revelations. Before we advanced to the next level, I excused myself to fetch a drink.
Adam’s mother was in the kitchen, surrounded by other guests. As I poured myself a drink, I observed her, and she caught my gaze more than once. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the morning’s events. Watching her converse with others, I marvelled that she appeared so entirely ordinary—one would never suspect she had administered a spanking that very morning. I regarded her in a new and rather thrilling light.
Much later, only our two families remained. My mother offered to assist with the tidying, and we all lent a hand. I recall feeling somewhat flustered in the presence of Adam’s mother, and I suspect it must have been apparent.
As I carried a bag of rubbish to the bin, I encountered her on my return. At ten years old, one is still a child, yet on the threshold of growing up. I longed to ask her questions—many questions. Though I did not understand it at the time, I was experiencing a peculiar excitement, and I wished to hear her account of the morning’s events.
At last, I summoned the courage to ask whether Adam had been teasing me about the birthday spanking. She gave me a sidelong glance and replied, “No, it is quite true! It was merely a little spontaneous, harmless fun.”
I then inquired whether Adam would receive similar treatment on his birthday. “Quite possibly—if he wishes it,” she replied. My heart raced, though she never actually uttered the word “spanking,” which I found a trifle disappointing.
Adam’s mother then straightened and looked directly at me. I am certain my heart stopped as she said, “I shall give you one if you do not return at once and assist your mother with the tidying!” I remember that admonition as if it were yesterday—a veritable bolt of lightning.
I do not blush, but she must have noticed something in my reaction, for I stood there, momentarily transfixed. I felt a curious sense of awe towards her.
She tied up another bag, handed it to me, and said, “Off you go!” I obeyed at once. In retrospect, I am sure Adam’s mother realised then that I harboured more than a passing interest in the subject. My questions and reactions must have betrayed me.
As the cleaning continued, we encountered each other from time to time. By now, I found it difficult to meet her gaze, but when I thought she was not looking, I could not help but watch her. She was the first lady I had met who had actually administered a spanking, and it was a matter of great significance to me.
Meanwhile, our fathers were seated in the garden, enjoying their beer. They had collected some rubbish but had not taken it to the bins. Adam and I were dispatched to fetch the remaining bags, leaving our mothers alone in the house.
I suspect a plan was devised at this juncture, for what followed is the very reason for my narrative. I imagine Adam’s mother must have mentioned my interest to my own mother as they conversed.
At last, with Father remaining behind to finish his beer and converse with Adam’s father, Mother and I returned home. Nothing seemed amiss as we crossed the road. Once home, I went to my bedroom, changed into my pyjamas, and prepared for bed.
Mother must have been waiting for the opportune moment, for as I returned from the bathroom, she appeared.
She wasted no time. “Young man, Adam’s mother informs me that you were very naughty at the party. We have decided you deserve a good spanking. I am most disappointed in you!”
Astonished does not begin to describe my feelings. I had never been scolded in such a manner, never addressed as “young man,” and certainly never had my bottom smacked. I was utterly taken aback, but Mother appeared entirely serious.
She approached, took my arm, and in one smooth, practised motion, seated herself on the edge of my bed and placed me across her knee.
I offered no resistance; indeed, I was so astonished that I could scarcely think or speak. What I recall most vividly is the sensation of weightlessness as I lay across Mother’s lap, and a genuine apprehension regarding the impending chastisement. My heart pounded, my mind raced with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The atmosphere was charged with seriousness, and I felt a peculiar vulnerability, never before experienced.
Mother was remarkably composed as she prepared me for my punishment, as though she were quite accustomed to such proceedings. “You are a very naughty boy, behaving so towards Adam’s mother!” she scolded. I had not uttered a word, being quite speechless. I had not, in truth, been naughty at all, but the ritual of the moment was overwhelming.
Then, Mother began to administer light, rapid smacks, which stung a little but were not truly painful. Each smack was sharp, almost playful, yet conveyed a message: this was a lesson, a boundary being established. I cannot say how many there were, for they came in quick succession. Each one heightened my awareness of my own feelings—embarrassment, excitement, and a curious sense of being cared for.
There was a pause. I lay still, eyes and mouth wide, attempting to comprehend what was happening. I was being spanked across Mother’s knee! The reality was both shocking and oddly comforting, as though I were being initiated into some secret rite of passage.
“Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, you shall apologise to Adam’s mother, you naughty boy!” The significance of this escaped me at the time, but it added to the sense of consequence and ceremony.
Mother then delivered another round of smacks, at the same brisk pace, but these felt as though her whole hand was employed. They stung rather more, but at no point did they truly hurt. I huffed and wriggled a little towards the end, but I did not protest, nor cry out, nor suffer anything more than a mild, warm sting. The experience was more emotional than physical.
As swiftly as it had begun, it was over. Mother helped me up and pointed to my bed. “Now go to bed, you naughty boy, and straight to sleep!” Her tone was firm, but there was a glimmer of affection in her eyes.
I scrambled beneath my bedclothes in utter astonishment. I had been spanked! Over Mother’s knee! My mind was a whirl of emotions—confusion, embarrassment, and a strange sense of relief and even pride. I had crossed a threshold, experienced something I had only imagined.
Mother paused at the door, turned, and placed her finger on the light switch. Our eyes met for a moment, she smiled, and said, “Goodnight—love you.” She turned out the light and closed the door. What a bewildering turn of events! First she chastises me, then smiles and expresses her affection. I was quite at a loss.
I could scarcely believe what had transpired. I lay in bed, a tingling warmth still present, perfectly still, savouring the sensation and smiling in the darkness. The lesson was not about pain, but about boundaries, care, and the curious ways in which parents express love.
That night, I must have lain awake for hours, replaying the entire episode in my mind—an event which, in reality, had lasted but a few minutes. The memory, the emotions, the ritual, all mingled together, leaving me with a sense of awe and curiosity.
Mother’s smile at the end was a moment of great significance. I was clearly being teased, but why? Was it merely a jest, or was there a deeper lesson—about curiosity, about boundaries, about growing up?
What a day it had been! I had heard of Adam’s sister’s birthday spanking, and now I had been spanked across my own mother’s knee. When at last I fell asleep, I was perhaps the happiest boy in the world, feeling both chastened and strangely content.
At breakfast, Father appeared entirely unaware of the previous evening’s events. If he knew, he gave no sign. Mother, for her part, caught my eye and raised her eyebrows once or twice, but nothing was said, and I was served my usual cereal as though nothing had occurred.
After being excused, I returned to my room, with no particular plans save perhaps to see Adam. I dwelt upon my spanking until Mother called me.
