Domestic Discipline

Melissa I

1963 was a year I still remember. I turned ten in August. The Dallas Cowboys went on to a great season and I even saw one of the home games in November. And after Labor Day, my parents found a new babysitter named Melissa. With a very busy social schedule, they were often out two or even three weeks a night at dinner parties, the theater, or the symphony. Mom had used a variety of baby sitters but most of them made little impression until Melissa Dobson. She was sixteen when mom hired her and the daughter of our local minister. And for the past year, she had worked as the assistant teacher at my Sunday School, supervising twenty children aged six to eleven. She was also very pretty. Though a mere 5 ft 2, she was extremely curvy which made her look very grown up in my eyes. The fact that sh...

Aunt Betsy IV

“Billy, though I’m glad to see you are not sick, I’m shocked at how you have reacted to this thermometer. It sometimes happens with Billy as well. Of course, when he really does have a fever, it’s not fair to punish him for such naughtiness and the same would hold true for you. But if he’s well, that’s a different story. Since you know I believe in firmly correcting bad little boys and since you’re being very, very bad right now, you’re going to get that spanking I’ve been promising. Normally I would put you into jammies first but since I don’t want to disturb Tommy’s nap, we’ll have to postpone that until he gets up. Then it’s a quick dinner for both of you and right back to bed after a final, bedtime spanking. I find Tommy learns much more from an early bedtime if it comes with a warm bo...

Aunt Betsy II

As for the spankings themselves, Tommy said she always spanked slowly and patiently, reinforcing the spanks with a lengthy series of questions and sharp verbal reminders using language normally reserved for younger children. Methodical and thorough, her sessions usually lasted twenty to thirty minutes including the post-spanking time lying over her knees until any real crying subsided. Sometimes, she made Tommy stand in the corner afterwards with his flap down and his reddened bottom well on display for another fifteen minutes. Whether he did corner time or not, she always sat him on her lap at the very end for a final cuddle and kiss. Aunt Betsy would remind him again of how much mommie loved him, what a good little angel he was most of the time, and why mommie had to spank him whenever h...

Aunt Betsy III

“You see, Tommy, your troubles have more to do with your attitude than your teacher. And I have just the remedy for a boy who doesn’t know how to work hard enough. It’s just as well that Billy is here, especially since his mother and I see eye to eye on these matters. Young man, as soon as you get inside, I am going to give your bare bottom a very good lesson in paying attention. And I’m not going to stop until it’s clear you’ve learned something. Do you understand? Then you’ll be going right to bed for a nap. I’ll get you up for dinner, of course, but then it’s right back to bed after your bottom gets a second reminder of what happens to bad little boys who don’t do their school work. You’re going to have lots to think abou...

Why Mikey Likes Eating At Home I

After two and a half hours of looking at clothes for the girls Mikey’s mother spent 15 minutes picking out some jeans and a pair of shirts for him. Throughout the arduous afternoon Sandy was reprimanding her son to “behave,” “stop fidgeting,” “grow up,” etc. The shopping was getting on Mikey’s nerves, and he in turn was driving his mother quickly to the edge. Mikey’s behavior was rotten and his disposition was even worse. Sandy was playing referee between the kids as the long afternoon was wearing them all down. All three children were bickering, especially Mikey and Tami. So, to try to placate the kids, she stopped at the local Mexican quick-serve restaurant. In the restaurant Mikey was still arguing with his sisters, particularly Tami...

*Curiosity of a Smacked Bottom*

As a youngster, I grew up very confused. Pressure had been building up in me for some time over my formative years. Every woman appeared to be of interest to me, all be it for one reason. The reason being, the thought of being spanked by the particular woman I had an interest in. The big question would always arise in my mind. That was What would it feel like to be spanked by her? Time and Time again I had asked my own mother about this. At times she had threatened to give me a good spanking herself. However, it appeared I would always chicken out at the last minute. I had never been spanked before, So being purposely naughty was out of the question. For if I was ever to be spanked for being naughty, it would of happened by now. Throughout the years I was becoming frustrated about my thoug...

Diaper Discipline

I remember in my formatives years a time where my mommy and daddy treated me out to a drive in movie. I was told that before we left I would have to take a bath. Before we left, Mom told me to take a bath. Once I had got out of the tub, I was to dry myself off and come into my parents’ bedroom. “Mom,” I said, “I need clothes!” “Just come in to see me with a towel,” she replied. When I had bathed myself, I went into Mom and she had a pile of my clothes on her bed. She also had one of my brothers’ Pampers pull-ups. “You need to put this on,” she told me firmly, “because there won’t be any bathrooms at the drive-in. So you can just go in the diaper.” At that age, I was very embarrassed at the thought of wearing a diaper like a baby. I flatly refused. Mom told me to stop arguing and come to he...

Three types of caning

When I was a little girl, the discipline I dreaded most was a beating with the cane. My mother used a rattan cane and it never failed to leave a nasty sting. I would have red lines and raised welts decorating my bare bottom for the next two to three days, and the entire ordeal was very painful. When Mum told me that I was going to have the cane, my buttocks would clench up, and I became nervous and afraid. Previous memories of the cane’s lasting sting would fill my thoughts and begin to haunt me, even before I had been beaten this time. To receive my punishment, I had to bend over a wooden chair, keep my legs together and stick my bottom out nicely. With every stroke, I would flinch and squirm. Mum would take her time and pace the canings so that the sting of each stroke settled before the...

Friends Reunited now, Catholic Church then

Just watched a news story about a massive meeting of Catholic Bishops for the purpose of addressing child abuse in the Catholic church. Now, of course, this is happening because the Church had an horrific record of hiding knowledge of abuse, and protecting the abusers, using every trick under the sun. Now compare this with the web site Friends United. This site is CLEARLY hiding knowledge of CP abuse perpertrated in many schools in the past, and protecting the abusers, by deleting messages from ex-pupils brave enough to publically detail this abuse. We saw the prime example of ‘protect the abuser at any cost’ attitude with the sham trial of Peverett, one of Thatcher’s top dogs, who, along with Pinochet, got his get-out-of-jail-free card from her CLOSE mate Blair. What mos...

A taste of the leather

I grew up in Arkansas during the 1990s, and my mother’s approach to discipline was extremely conservative. She considered that spanking the children was woman’s work and she did it with such regularity which meant that almost every day, either me or my brothers and sisters (I have two of each) had sore behinds. When we were real little we got Mom’s bare hand across our bare bottoms but by the time the child turned six, she stepped us up to the discipline of the belt. This was an old one of Dad’s which she kept exclusively for searing our backsides. Whereas most moms I knew would ask their child rhetorically whether they wanted a spanking when they were naughty, Mom’s question was always: “Child, do you want a taste of the leather?” We never did, of course, but that didn’t stop Mom applying...

Black bottomed girl

I met Omolade [name changed – Ed] at university – we were both studying history of art at Cambridge. She was Nigerian and her mother was a quite prominent diplomat. For a long time we were just friends, but after getting drunk at a party one night, we spent most of the evening kissing and petting, with Omolade sitting on my lap, and pretty much ignoring everyone else. It was my first time being intimate with a black girl, and of course, I really wanted to get her into bed, but there just wasn’t the opportunity at the party and I’d already drunk so much that night, I was scared of losing my erection. So I told Omolade to come round to my place in the morning for coffee. Part of me also wondered whether she’d kissed me only because of the alcohol, so this was kind of giving her a chance to b...

Memories of the stick

I was fortunate growing up to have a large contingent of extended family living in the same neighbourhood. My mom’s sister lived just a couple of blocks from us, in a house on a large lot in a cul-de-sac that backed up to woods. There were six kids living there at the time this took place – my aunt and uncle’s five kids and a niece of my uncle, whom they had taken in at a young age (long story) and had since adopted. I was especially close with this girl, whose name was Judith – Judi for short. We were just a few months apart in age and we hung together both in school and during the summer, mainly at her house. Like my mom, my aunt was a ‘first response’ spanker. Although she tended to let more things slide than my mom did (probably because of the sheer number of kids there), spanking...

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