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 it. The punishment would be administered in front of all the children, so we were all well acquainted with each other’s bottoms and private parts. The belt was given with the child in question bending over, hands on knees, their bare backside facing the rest of the family.
Mom would come in with the belt, with the child to be whipped usually already in tears. Then would come the order: “Bare your behind!” You would bashfully obey, the boys generally slipping their pants and briefs in one movement, the girls reaching up their skirt to lower their panties, then raising the hem to reveal the target.
“Bend over!” would be the next thing you would hear. Then you would feel Mom come behind you and the leather being placed against your buttocks as she got her aim. After that, there was a woosh and a crack and your entire bottom would be engulfed in a tide of stinging pain. Mom never went easy on us – if we had earned the belt, she made sure we got it all right. If you weren’t already crying and screaming before, you sure were by then.
For most things, you got a good round dozen licks, no matter what your age. Mom took her time and left a good gap between each lick so the child could really appreciate the sting in each one. She might use the time to lecture us, or ask us stupid questions such as: “Are you ever going to do something like this again?” Of course, there was only one answer to that!
After your whipping, you would be put in the corner for a while, sore red bottom on display for all the other children to take as a warning. The beltings we got off Mom were serious, and usually left us with a bruised behind for several days once the initial redness had faded. Sitting down for supper was never easy after a dose, although often we didn’t even get chance, as we were sent to bed without, to sleep on our tummies.
The spankings were always deserved, and helped keep a large family in order, but even when we grew up, I think all us kids had equivocal feelings about them. Discussing them one evening with my eldest sister, she said that it was worse for the girls as us boys could see their pussies when they bent over, whereas us boys really only showed our bottoms.