by DJ Black
My husband spanks me and that is all right by me, although I would never tell him that. I can't say I have had a life-long interest in spanking; my interest emerged much later after Gerard came into our lives. By our lives I mean my mother's and I.
I was never spanked as a child, my father was totally against it. I think much to my mother's regret. She was spanked until she left home, as she never stopped telling me.
"If I had done that at your age I wouldn't have sat down for a week," she would say or, "If I had said that to my mother I would have had my knickers taken down."
She sometimes said such things in front of others, much to my acute embarrassment, but that was as far as it ever went. I honestly think I didn't need to be spanked as a child and I certainly don't advocate it now, so this is not a story about a bad girl made good through spanking. Well not entirely anyway.
I think I was a happy well-adjusted child who did all right at school right up until I was 18. Then my lovely daddy died and things changed.
I thought it was all so unfair and I became the teenager from hell. My grades suffered and I had to go to a second-rate college. I even failed there and ended back with Mum doing a succession of rubbish jobs. Then there were the drugs and the riding in cars with boys.
My mother fared little better. She didn't take Dad's death well and tended to drink too much. She certainly lost the will to give me any direction. She even stopped her idle threats to spank me. By the time I'd reached the age of 19, Mother and I were at each others throats.
Then one day the police arrested me. I was found in the back of a stolen car in possession of a tiny amount of hash. The amount found in the front of the car was rather more. It was all one hell of a mess and I spent the night in a cell while the police decided what to charge me with.
The police knew one of the boys and fortunately, the other boy admitted that the other girl and I did not know about the drugs. In the end I was just cautioned for possession.
When I got home Mother and I had one hell of a row. She even started throwing stuff.
"Get out. I have had enough," she screamed as half my clothes ended up in the street. She even swore at me, which was something she never did.
I was crying and begging for her to forgive me, but ended up sitting on the doorstep with nowhere to go. I could hear my mother crying on the other side of the door. It was awful. After a couple of hours the door opened and Mum said we needed to talk.
We sat down surrounded by huge pile of my shit while she explained that she couldn't cope with the way things were and it had to change. After a very long intense discussion, she finally lightened up a bit.
"When I was your age I was caught in a stolen car with a boy. I was lucky they just arrested him and made me walk home. But when my dad found out I got the hiding of my life."
I suddenly wondered where this was leading. Was my mother asking me to make amends?
"Are you going to spank me?" I asked.
She just looked at me and there was the longest silence. Then she said, "No. Not this time, we have had enough upset. But if you ever get arrested again or I find out you have been using drugs, then since you ask, I will. You will either get out or you will accept a good hiding."
"Yes Mum," was all I could say. I was so glad it was all over and I really thought that things would be better now.
Things were better after that. Mother stopped drinking quite so much and I gave up hash and got a better job. Then I went and did a stupid thing.
To cut a long story short I was out with one of my 'bad girl' friends and she helped herself to a handbag from a department store. Of course, we were spotted and so we ran. She got away and I was caught. I swore I would never do such a thing and that it was my friend, but they did not believe me.
"Why did I run? What was my friend's name? Where did she live?"
All I knew was that she was called Julie something and we usually hung out at the Hope and Anchor. It was the truth but I know how it sounded.
I was invited to attend the magistrates' court on charges of shoplifting. The look on my mum's face when I got the letter was the worst thing that ever happened to me since my dad died. We both had a good cry and she promised to stand by me.
"It will be all right, you won't go to prison." She tried to cheer me up.
In the end, they found Julie and she pleaded guilty and I was acquitted. I say the end but it was not quite the end. The entire way home Mum scolded me about mixing with the wrong sort and how I had had a lucky escape.
When we finally got home, I got a shock.
"Have you decided? Are you ready for a good hiding or are you going to pack your bags?" Mum asked.
We had another row. I came out with everything from I was too old to it wasn't my fault. Mum countered with a lecture on taking responsibility and that I was never too old. In the end, I remembered the look of disappointment on her face and did what I was told.
I went to my room and got into my pyjamas then came back down to the living room as she had asked. She told me that when she was a girl she had to do time out in the corner until her dad was ready. I argued again saying I hadn't had time out since I was about eight.
"I was about to say that I was going to let you off that bit, but since you keep arguing about it you can do some corner time afterwards," she told me.
Mum pulled me down across her lap and tugged down my pyjama bottoms. I was so embarrassed. There was no way that she could have made me do it by force and the fact that I was submitting voluntarily made it all the more humiliating.
I don't know why but I had got it into my head that at 19 a spanking wouldn't hurt. It did.
Mum used one of Dad's old rubber-soled deck shoes that he used to wear for gardening. She spanked me with a will and did not stop for a very long time. I think she had a lot to get out of her system.
By the time she finished spanking me, I was not only crying hard but was definitely thoroughly sorry. Like she promised, I had to stand and face the corner. During the spanking, my pyjama bottoms had been kicked off and I couldn't find them.
"Never mind them, when I was a girl we had to do corner time bare bottomed. Thank your lucky stars that there is only me here," she said crossly.
I didn't argue for once. The next hour or so was very embarrassing. I wasn't allowed out of the corner and Mum just went about the house singing.
Afterwards I couldn't sit down and my bottom was one big, red purplish bruise. The marks lasted about 10 days and every time I sat down I blushed, remembering what had happened.
After that, I was spanked every time I argued with Mum. I tried to tell her that I was too old and that it hurt and I would be good, anything to get out of it.
"You could always pack your bags," she would say.
Then when I capitulated she would add, "See, all that fuss over nothing. You can have an extra half hour in the corner before and afterwards for that."
I eventually stopped arguing. It was 1991 and I was probably the only 20-year-old daughter being spanked by their mother in the whole town, perhaps the whole country.
Then Mum met Gerard. He was the nicest man I had ever met. Although he was a bit older than Mum, she was 41 at the time, he was very handsome and always wore smart suits. He had a full head of hair with just a bit of grey to make him look distinguished.
He was always very calm; the perfect counterbalance to mum's volatility. There was always a bit of a frisson whenever he scolded her, and she blushed.
It was around this time that I began having weird fantasies about Gerard spanking me. He was the perfect stern but kindly stepfather figure.
Mum of course did her best to mess things up. She was always trying to argue and I overheard her complaining about her sex life to friends.
The last remark surprised me, but I gathered that she wanted to be in control and I thought that was probably not the best way to get Gerard going. To try and give her a hint, without directly raising the subject, I bought her a pair of handcuffs for her birthday. She blushed but saw the funny side.
Things settled down after that and I thought everything would be all right. Then one day I came home and found Gerard handcuffed to the staircase rail. He was in a total rage.
I was so embarrassed for him and wouldn't blame him if he left mother forever. Apparently, they had been playing a game with the handcuffs, as they had before, but my mother had got into one of her strops and tried to put the cuffs on him. She had only put it on one wrist and then stormed out of the bathroom. He had no idea what the problem was but then he mentioned that she had been drinking rather a lot and it all became clear to me.
He had followed her down the stairs to dissuade her from driving in her current state. She was evidently fumbling for the car keys in the hall. It was then that she had snapped the dangling end of the cuffs onto the rail and run out of the house.
As I was trying to calm him down and we talked about how to remove the cuffs, Mother having taken the key, when the phone rang. It was Mother; she was in a terrible state having driven into a ditch.
Gerard suggested I leave him and go and get her, but I thought that was a bad idea. Eventually I found my father's old toolbox and Gerard was able to free himself using this hook thing. It was only a simple lock he said.
I persuaded him to go and fetch Mother, rather than me and try to patch things up between them. Half an hour later Gerard returned with Mother, who was looking very sheepish. I made some coffee and left them to talk things over. There was an air of finality hanging in the room and I was feeling very sad that Gerard would leave our lives.
I returned just in time to hear Gerard say, "If you weren't a grown woman I would give you a sound spanking."
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