ShyCindy's World

Friday, September 01, 2006

the worst spanking i ever got...

Unlike my sister, who was kind of a prissy princess, I guess I was what some might call a tomboy. Not that I was a super-jock athlete or anything, but I liked playing softball, and played little league with more heart than talent. I was a so-so hitter, and always looked like a spaz running the bases, but I loved being out there in the sun, loved my blue and white uniform (the Cougars) so much, I’d have worn it every day if I had been allowed.

The summer days at my house were total chaos. Because my mom was both divorced and had to work, there was really no one to supervise us in our daily activity. Sometimes, we’d be sent up to stay with my father, but he worked too, and was often away because of work. So instead, we were largely left to our own devices, my sister in nominal charge-meaning she answered the phone calls from my mother when she called. We could pretty much do as we wanted, wandering the neighborhood and even the (now all subdevelopement covered) wastelands that used to be farm country surrounding our town. As long as we knew to be at home before she returned, we had total control over our lives.

Even though I was free to go off and do as I wanted, this one afternoon in question I decided to stay at home. I’d have been ten and a half that summer, entering sixth grade in the fall. Inside the house, my sister and her idiot friends would have been sitting around gabbing about the idiot things they gabbed about, and my brother would have been either playing with his toys in the basement, or goofing off somewhere with his little pals. Lonely, too bored for cartoons, too lazy to contact any of my own friends, I grabbed my ball and mitt and went outside. I retrospect, sixteen years later, the adult me wants to shout at the moron child version and tell her to go find another kid to play with. But in mute, helpless horror, again and again, I rewatch the film in my head of me walking out back, seeing the garage door, and choosing it as my playmate. For an entire lazy summer afternoon, I threw with all my strength the dog-chewed tennis ball (easier to catch than a hard baseball) against the garage door, the ball shooting back into my glove. I built up a steady beat of throwing the ball with enough force that it would make an enjoyably loud ‘whack’ noise as it struck the aluminum door, almost instantly followed by the ‘slap’ of it hitting the leather of my glove. I so perfected this rhythm that I only rarely had to dive onto the gravel driveway to make the catch.

As afternoon made it’s inevitable slide into evening, I went back to my room to clean up and get ready for my mom’s return and the dinner that would soon follow. It was while I picked the bits of gravel and dirt from my torn and bloody knees (from those few stray balls that almost escaped), that my mom returned home, weary and stressed from another long day at work. I was wholly oblivious of this return, until suddenly, with a force that startled me into a frozen terror, my door flew open and there she stood. Before I could even open my mouth, she started screaming, really screaming, “what the hell were you thinking?” over and over, like it’s repetition might provide the answer to the question I had know idea of it’s meaning. I just sat there, stunned, saying “what?” over and over again, the scene turning into a tired vaudeville skit neither of us thought was funny. Our serve and return ended just as abruptly as it began, and with a final declaration of “that’s it”, she stormed out of the room, leaving me sitting there in utter confusion.

But within less then a minute she had returned, and this time carrying the belt. I’d gotten the belt once before, for what infraction I can’t even remember now. As I recall, she had used it pretty mildly that first time, and it had always served more as a threatening deterrent then as a means of discipline in our house. The belt always loomed as the ultimate weapon of whipping, but like nuclear ones, this weapon didn’t have to be actually used to make it’s point. Up to this age, I’d pretty much only known the over her lap paddlings we’d been getting since before anyone could remember.

Slamming the door behind her, she pointed at my pants and yelled, “take them off, now”. Still completely in the dark as to why I was in trouble, I just stared up at her with unblinking eyes. I was both too afraid to move, and too convinced that this had to be some sort of mistake, had to be a misdeed of either my brother’s or sister’s that I was wrongly being accused of. Thinking this to be the case, I argued/whined, “but I didn’t do anything!”, with all the nasally sincerity I could muster. Being so angry that she was now beyond words, she simply went ahead and lunged for me, grabbing the waist of my pants in an effort to remove them. During any spanking, before that or after, once the punishment had been announced, the verdict final, I meekly (and wisely) did as I was told, and readily offered up my poor butt for sacrifice. This time, however, not even having been read the charges against the accused, I made the bold and suicidal choice of trying to run. Believing, in my heart of hearts, that I was wholly innocent of whatever the offending act was, and believing that only with a few, brief moments of reprieve, I could set the record straight-find the one-armed man, as it were. So with all my cunning and speed, I burst forth off the bed, a panicked rabbit running from the hound. Sadly, however, my time as a fugitive was short-lived, and soon deeply regretted. At that age, I was maybe a little over four feet, and couldn’t have weighed more than seventy-five pounds. My mother, on the other hand, stood at five foot six, and probably around one hundred and forty. I never even made it to the door knob, before a hand grabbed me by the back of my pants and pulled me down to the floor. Once there, my pants and undies were quickly pulled down with enough force to leave scratch marks for a long time after, and a merciless rain of belt pounded down on me. She pinned me to the floor for a minute like that, belt sticking all over my butt and thighs, screaming almost unintelligently how dare I try to leave when she’s talking (!!!) to me. After a bit of this, she finally lifted my now subdued and weeping self over the side of the bed, where, her hand pinning me helpless against the mattress, the belt tore into me for what seemed (still seems) like an eternity.

Once it was finally over (although by then my butt burned so bad it still felt like I was getting it), she sharply told me if I wanted to play ball, next time I should go to the park. Being lost in my world of tears and snot (let’s be honest here), I didn’t even register what she said, until the next day, when sent out to “clean up my mess”, I discovered that the garage door was covered with black marks where the tennis ball had made contact. My thighs and bottom swollen and bruised from the night before, I tried to wash them off, but it wasn’t until a few years later that a new coat of paint would remove the constant reminder of my brutal whipping.

It hurt enough that night, that I couldn’t even pull back up my pants or change into my nightie. Instead, I lay face down crying for hours, until my mom finally came in, and after being informed that no, I certainly did not want to come to dinner, she placed a sheet over me and left me like that.

The one bright spot of this whole story-because it was her job to watch us while my mom was at work, my sister got a pretty good whipping that night too. When she came to bed, after what must have been a pretty upsetting visit to my mom’s room, she climbed into her bed, and facing the wall, said through tears and sniveling, “I fucking hate you!”, then we both cried ourselves to sleep.


  • At 9:43 PM, Blogger Ariella said…

    Wow, I just woke up a little while ago, and this was one heavy way to start my day (night). I have to give my Mom credit, she always made damn sure I knew why I was getting it. You have my hugs and sympathies.

  • At 4:12 AM, Anonymous Karen said…

    I definitely couldn't write it as well as you did, but yes on the snot. I was rarely glamourous while getting spanked lol.

  • At 2:09 PM, Anonymous Billy said…

    The word is "masturbation." And why alienate people right from the start, defiantly declaring how you won't be treated? I also think the comment about not wanting your place to look like seniors live there because of a maple syrup dispenser is pretty immature. Pardon me for wondering, but where exactly does your "shyness" come in?

  • At 10:03 AM, Anonymous Jozef said…

    Sorry for my inglisch

    When I was almost 7 Years old my parents go to autralia for a month on holiday I must sty that month at my aunt I dus not like very much.

    On a day I accidentally break a special mud and my aunt became very angry and put my pants and underpants down then she lay me over her lap and spanked my bare bottom, I became nervous and peed on her dress she spankt me much harder, that night I also peed in the bed.

    Next day she come back from the store where she bought plastic pants and cloth daipers, she take my clothes off and put only plastic pants on my bare bottom than she lay me for no reason over her lap and with de plastic pants in place she spankt my bottom very hard and this does a hel off pain.

    After this spanking I became more and more nervous and angry and in the next weeks I sty at my aunt she spanks me always the same way wiht my bare bottum in plastic pants for every litle misbehaviour.

    I will never forget those spankings, because this way of spanking are very painful

  • At 8:19 AM, Anonymous Cameron said…

    Reminds me of my first tanning.

    My Mom divorced when I was 9, and I had never been spanked until I was 12. I cursed at her, accidentally, when she took the TV out of my room because I had stayed up until 3 am watching some lame horror flic, then missed school the next day.

    When I came into her room to see the TV on the floor I was pissed. Right after I slipped up and said bitch and then lied about saying it she grabbed me by the arm. I was still in my gym shorts that I wore to bed and she threw me on her bed and grabbed the hairbrush off her nightstand, pulled the shorts off one cheek and just started wailing on my ass. I was in shock! I thought she had lost it. She never reacted like that, and I guess because I didn't resist, still being in shock, she just kept going until I started crying.

    Later, she came to my room and apologized, but said she should have been more strict with me when I was younger, and I wouldn't have such an attitude.

    What's weird is that is the same time I first started masterbating. I would masterbate every time I thought about that, but that's another story.

    Thanks for sharing. I've always thought about this but this is the first time I've shared it since it happened.

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  • At 3:04 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Wow, that doesn't sound fun. Of course, my first spanking wasn't fun either. I got in trouble for staying up too late to watch a movie when my babysitter wasn't watching. I would watch the TV on low until she came to check on me, then I'd flick of the set and shove the remote under my covers. Biggest mistake i'd ever made! After a couple times of doing this, Rachel ( my babysitter ) caught me shoving the remote under the blanket. She pulled back the covers to see what I had, and she said to me. "Why, you little sneak!" The next thing I knew, she shut my bedroom door. When she came back, she had a kitchen chair. Now Rachel was related to me, so she was able to spank me without my parents getting mad. Rachel pulled me out of bed, stripped me naked and layed me over the chair. She whacked me hard. She found a yard stick and held me down. She gave me 20 licks and then made me stand under freezing water unil my nose was running. Then she gave me 20 more licks. That was my worst. And when my parents heard about it I got 10 more licks. And lost my TV for 2 months.

  • At 2:38 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Maybe my worst spanking was when I sang an inappropiate song in Sunday School. When my Mom found out, she drove the family right home, grounded me for a week, then shut my bedroom door, calling through it. "Get undressed, little lady!" I hurried to do so, and when she got back, she was holding Daddy's 1/2 inch belt, it was 6 inches wide, he'd made it himself. I don't recollect how or why, but Mom always threatened me with the belt. In Mom's other hand, she had a sheet of sandpaper. Mom grabbed me and shoved my face so deep into my bed I could hardly breath! Next she lectured me on the importance of Sunday School and how she would still love me after the spanking was over, so and so. You know, all the parent, "now this is okay, you just misbehaved." I prefer a firm word and a smart whipping to my behind without Motherly Love. Anyway, first she grabbed my butt, and pushed my legs apart. Next, she gave me 20 smacks applied to each cheek. She rubbed sandpaper on the sitting part of my butt. At first it felt fine, but then, it started to burn, then my butt was on fire! ( Uh, it just felt like it! ) It hurt a lot, then she got The Hairbrush. She applied 10 licks to each side of my inner thighs. After that, she made me sit on a wood chair, she didn't let me redress until I had been sitting ( painfully ) there for an hour. She gave me one last spanking then put me in my pajamas and sent me to bed. It was the woorst spanking I'd ever endured.

  • At 8:52 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    This was an interesting memory. On the one hand I think that spanking is ok (within limits of course) I do feel bad that your mother didn't take a minute, breath and then point out what you did wrong.

    Still, being from a single parent home myself, I know that sometimes stress overcomes the parent and they have a hard time relating things to their children in a calm manner.

    Good story and glad I found your blog!

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  • At 2:26 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    A normal spanking at our house was getting whipped with the belt on your bare bottom. But the worst one I ever got was different. I was 8 years old and wet the bed. After many warnings, I finally got the whipping I deserved. My parents made me get completely undressed. Then I had to lay naked on the bed on my back. My dad told me to spread my legs apart and hold still. Then he started whipping my bare genitals as hard as he could. It hurt so much I screamed and almost passed out. It was much worse than getting whipped on the butt. After what seemed like forever, he stopped whipping me and told me to get dressed. I was promised another whipping exactly like that if I ever wet the bed again. And I didn't!

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  • At 3:02 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I visited the principals office many times for the paddle..3,5,10 licks was the normal punishment,and all of the boys and girls got paddled every morning during 1st.period,one right after the other,and we'd all get quiet and listen every time someone would be called in from the front office to the rear office,and he used a shaven down baseball-bat type paddle,and I'd always get turned on when I'd listen and hear the loud smacking sounds of the paddle being used over and over again,and another thing that I remember was some of the girls would wet themselves,and on the chairs,while waiting their turns for their licks,and as soon as you'd enter the office,the first thing you'd notice was it smelled different (like wet diapers)and there was just something about that strong,ammonia-like odor that's produced from wet pee that used to turn me on like nothing had ever turned me on so much in my whole life,because I'd never been anywhere else and smelled the odor of wet pee that strong,and even until this day I can still get horny thinking about the loud smacking sounds of the wooden paddle being used,and that strong pee wet aroma that was always so noticeable inside of the principals office back in the early 80's...I gotta go..I'm all horny again !!!

  • At 9:57 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I got a hard spanking on my baptism day! Iwas 14 and my parents finially had me receive my sacrement of baptism on a sunday morning during mass.My parents dressed me in the traditional,all white 'baby girl'type baptism outfit-the poofy white,midthigh dress with the matching bonnet lace socks and white mary jane shoes.After my party was over,i got into a fight with my 12 year old brother and really lost it,and punched him in the mouth and knocked out two of his teeth.After everything was settled down and the bleeding stopped,mom told me as my punishment i was going to get a spanking on my bare dad sat on a kithchen chair and mom grabbed me and put me over his lap,then pulled up my baptism dress.then pulled down my plastic pants and unfastened my disposable diaper and removed then gave my 10 hard wacks with his hand on my bare cheeks.I screamed and hollered while mom held my body on his lap.After the 10 hard wacks,she pulled up my plastic pants and took me to my bedroom and took my dress and bonnet off of me and then my under shirt.she then ordered me to sit down on the edge of my bed and lay back and then pulled my plastic pants down and put another disposable diaper on me them pulled the plastic pants back up over it and then got my nightgown out and made me put it on.I had to sleep in the diaper and plastic pants as the rest of my punishment.

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  • At 12:02 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Worst spanking I got was at the age of 11 I had never had one so that was my first the reason was because I was caught smoking and I got grounded so I took a small rock and hit it off my mom she told me to sit on my bed until my dad got home when he got home I felt like I died he got told what happend and he bargerd into my room whilst saying what my punishment was he was slowly taking off his work belt I can still rember what it looked like a brown and thick belt with a copper buckle he told me to pull my boxers down and lie on the side of my bed I did so thinking he was only tltrying to scare me he said I was a brat and this was well needed he took the belt up to his neck and swung as soon as the first hit was done I was on the ground crying he told me that he would be back in 5 minutes and I was still crying I would get it worse I didn't stop we had a paddle in their room and he brought it through with the belt and a thin TV cable he whooped me for an half hour straight and shouted my my mom through she was crying saying she did not believe in hitting children less to say they got a divorce and when ever I went to his house it was hell spanking over the slightest thing and my mom never ever hit me she just sat down and spoke to me don't know what helped more but I never treated her like that agsin


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