Childhood Memories


My own childhood memories of spanking were not pleasant ones, but I suppose that's the point. I was an only child and my parents were always afraid they would be over indulgent. So to compensate for that, they were very strict with me. They built a beautiful two-story house in a small town just outside of Dallas when I was four. There was a large mulberry tree in the backyard.

In the summertime, my grandmother would come and stay with us and take care of me. Her spanking weapon of choice was a mulberry switch. I learned at an early age that a switching stings like the devil. My mother had a souvenir paddle purchased during a vacation when I was about five to correct my bad behavior. My dad was a no nonsense sort of guy. I only remember about three spankings from him, all three given to me with his brown belt. A spanking for me normally meant bending over some piece of furniture, having my skirt flipped up over my back and being spanked on my panties. They always hurt, a lot. None of my spankers believed in a certain number of swats, they believed in beating the devil out of me until they were sure I had learned my lesson. They loved me very much, but they wanted me to grow up to be a good girl. And I was a good girl. I never got into trouble at school or anywhere else. I knew I would be in double trouble at home. I did not lose my virginity until I was a senior in high school, I am now 44 and I have had exactly two lovers. I went to Texas A&M and have a masters in education. I have told you all of this to set up the spanking that changed my life.

About 10:00 a.m. one lazy, summer morning, when I was about fifteen years old, I walked into my upstairs bedroom wrapped in a towel following my shower. I heard someone shouting, "No, daddy, please, no!" It took a few seconds to determine the commotion I heard was coming from next door. I looked out my bedroom window into the backyard of our next door neighbors and was shocked to see the girl next door (about seventeen years old) about to be spanked. Her shorts and panties were down around her ankles and her dad was pushing on her back to get her to bend over their picnic table. Summertime in Texas means that air conditioning is on and windows are closed, so I didn't hear everything that was said, but I did hear him tell her to grab the edge of the table or it was about to get much worse. He was holding a good-sized switch from our mulberry tree in his right hand. My bottom started to twitch because I knew if her spanking lasted very long, her bare bottom was going to sting like bees.

With one great weeping sigh, she bent over and grabbed the edge of the table, which meant she was on her tip-toes and was stretched taut for her punishment. I watched as her dad started to give her a long, hard switching on her bare bottom. Each time the switch "kissed" her bottom, it left a red welt in its wake. Her dad methodically striped her up and down her bottom and the back of her legs. By no means was he being vicious, or did he seem angry. He just seemed to have a job to do and he took pride in his work. I did not even know what "turned-on" was until I witnessed that show. The incredible thing is that, she was so well trained for her spankings (I'm guessing here), that she hardly moved during the 5-10 minutes of non-stop switching. Her bottom was twitching and jumping like it had a mind of its own, but her head, arms or legs never moved. I was always expected to bend over and take my punishments, but this girl was amazing.

When he was through with her, she remained bent over the table while he continued to scold her. She was sobbing, and trying to answer his questions. I guess she didn't answer correctly once, because he lit into her again. He added about 10 more stripes to her bottom right above the thigh. She was practically howling after that! I knew she was not going to sit comfortably for a long time after the last onslaught of swats. She remained in that position during the entire scolding and then he ordered her in the house. As she raised herself up, pulled up her panties and tight cut-offs and walked into her house, she never once touched her bottom (I was rubbing mine and fantasizing about bending over that picnic table for some of that). I know her spanking was painful, but it was the most erotic thing I have ever seen. I don't know if I was so turned on by the fact that her pretty little white bottom was bare, the fact that her dad was so diligent in his duties or that she submitted to her spanking and held her position during the entire event.

That evening I told my mother that Debbie had been spanked in her backyard by her dad. Mama told me that she witnessed him line three of his daughters up and over the same picnic table earlier that summer and had spanked them all with his belt. She also reminded me that there were five children in that house and keeping them in line probably felt like a full time job. He would be a far worse father if he did not discipline his children. She told me she never enjoyed paddling me, but it was necessary sometimes. She even told me that my dad was so upset after spanking me with his belt, that he had become physically ill. They did it because they loved me and wanted me to grow up learning right from wrong.

I have fantasized about spankings ever since that fateful summer day. I don't remember very many days in the last 28 or so years, that I haven't remembered that spanking and wished it were me. It's hard to believe that something I only witnessed could have such a profound effect on my life. Every time I have tried to share this story with someone, they have thought I was sick, so I have learned to keep my mouth shut about it. When I came across this website and took the survey, I thought that finally maybe I had found someone with whom I could share my experience. My husband is very vanilla and will slap my bottom a time or two during foreplay, but I want to experience a real spanking. I only hope if I get the chance to experience such a spanking, that I will submit to it and be as disciplined about taking it as my neighbor, Debbie had been. So, how sick and perverted am I, really?