My Son, the Soldier

Some time ago, my Mario came home for a visit, While he apparently appeared normal, there was an undertone about him I could not place.
Now as his mother in all but by birth, I know Mario. Something was wrong, I knew it, don't ask me how, I simply knew it.

Over the next few hours and days I pressed him to tell me what he had on his mind, I did not feel that threatening him with a spanking would be the right thing to do, although in hind sight it would have worked.

I had to take the boys back to school  and Mario came with me, we spoke very little until after dropping the boys at the hostel. It was late and we went to a restaurant for a meal. During the meal we spoke and Mario although reticent at first began to open up. It was only after I explained to him that for the previous 4 nights I had spent practically the whole night soothing him and calming him down as the horror of the experience tormented him afresh.

Mario started to explain, saying the dreams had started a little while after he had de-mobilized, following a stint in the army reserves.
Combat situations play havoc on a man, some men change totally, become morose, withdrawn. Others retreat into an almost catatonic state, The veteran hospitals can offer some help but often the person has to endure the horror of combat alone.

I tried to soothe him but Mario remained adamant he carried some of the blame because he volunteered for some of the more dangerous missions, it was one of these missions that was responsible for his current dilemma. 
The patrol had been ambushed and in the first few seconds had lost half the men, a very large enemy force had trapped them in a narrow valley and although friendly air cover had been called in the result of the fire fight had left 15 dead and 4 wounded. Mario and a friend were the only ones to come out unhurt.

I asked him if he had gone for any help, the reply was no, it would make him look a coward. the following mission they had gone in to action all guns blazing and wiped out the whole camp. Going through the debris, he came across a young boy, about 12 years old, the child had taken a round in the belly and was bleeding out, Mario called for a medic but their own medic had other problems and could not spare the time to care for a wounded boy. Mario sat with him until he died. I told Mario he needed to forgive himself and that I thought a spanking from me may just be what he needed to forgive himself.

"Mom you can't be serious,  am a grown man, surely I am too old for that." I reminded him of the prank he pulled and got away with, how the guilt of not being punished gnawed at him until he came clean. How good he felt after he received his spanking for the prank.He was quiet after that, I watched him, the tell-tale biting of his lip, told me he was weighing up the pros and cons of a spanking.


I think from here on I had better let Mario tell the story.

The question is often asked, when exactly does a boy become a man.? To be fair I think that it depends solely on the man concerned. As we get older, we find that society expects us to conform to certain norms and behavioural patterns.

We finish school and find that we now have a new set of criteria to attain, new goals to score and above all, we now are adults so we have to behave like adults. Parental care and guidance largely end and suddenly you have to cope with what ever comes your way.

Some like me have grown up away from the parental home; others lived in their parents’ home. With my birth parents, I mostly did as I pleased, mostly because they were old and no longer had the drive or energy to cope with a mischievous teenager, my dad was ill and my mother devoted her time to him; however, that changed when I came to live with mom. She is not my real mother, she is a friend of my mothers who took me in and showed me a different aspect of what a mother is. Her name is Marta Van Rensburg, a divorced mother of two, her own children and me, her adopted son. My name is Mario.

I first met mom shortly before my 14^th birthday when my mother volunteered my services around her house. We became friends and forged a bond that today several years later and many spankings later keeps’ us together as mother and son.

The first spanking I received from mom was for smoking, I think it was a spur of the moment spanking, mom saw me cigarette in hand and promptly proceeded to blister my butt using a 2” wide wooden ruler she had in her VW combi. She dragged me to the car, opened the side sliding door and bent me over while she, using that ruler, blistered my butt. It was the hardest spanking I had received until that time and I promised never to touch a cigarette again. Like all children who promise not to be naughty ever again I did and my mom repeated the lesson, only the second time round mom not only laid into me using her hairbrush, she followed up the spanking with a whipping using switches cut from the willow tree growing near the river bank. It was a classic outdoor spanking and after that lesson I never touched a cigarette again I figured that if mom cared enough for me so that she spanked me then she was someone very special. When I moved in with her and her sons David and Grant, I started calling her mom, initially at her request, although I had no problem honouring her in this manner. When she got my parents to make her my legal guardian she really did become mom to me.

When I finished school I like all young men in South Africa received my call up to the army. Two years is a long time to be away from home, so I really missed her and my two brothers.

I did get to come home for breaks and once prior to deployment to the border, (The border between SWA, now Namibia, and Angola) for a seven day pass.

I also went home following deployment in the border. My first day home, we spent reacquainting and as I spent time with mom and my brothers, I felt the pressure of the previous 18 months growing and getting worse.

I think mom noticed the stress I was suffering but to her credit, she did not mention it while my brothers were in earshot. The first two days of the leave went by at breakneck speed; the nights however were a different matter. The Friday afternoon mom asked me to accompany her to drive to Pietersburg, around 100 miles away. It was the boys’ weekend to visit their dad and after we dropped them off mom and I headed for home. We stopped in Tzaneen, a town about half way home for dinner. It was during dinner that mom at last asked me what had happened to me while I was away.

I tried to fob it off saying it was nothing, mom countered by telling me not to lie to her as she knew when I lied.

“Do you remember the stunt you pulled in matric, the one with Beverly’s brassiere and knickers? Do you remember what I said when you finally owned up to me.”

“Mom was that before or after you gave me a hiding for doing it? If you mean before, it was something along the lines of; you deserve this and I will continue punishing you as long as you misbehave. If it was after then I was more than likely crying too much to really listen to you”.

“It was after son, and maybe I should smack you for not listening to your mother.” She smiled and reached out to grip my hand, she squeezed me as she said, “My darling I am your mother and even though I did not give birth to you, I know you better than you could possibly know or understand. So son I know you have been having nightmares, I have seen your sheets in the morning, and I have sat and held your hand whilst you have been tossing and turning as you relived whatever horror you went through.

Little by little, bit by bit, mom coaxed me until I broke down and began to tell her what I had seen and done. I pushed my plate away from me and asked mom if I could have a beer, she smiled, signalled the waiter and ordered the beer. I sat there and for the next hour unburdened my heart to this wonderful woman who had become so very dear to me. Mom would have made a damn good shrink as she said very little but slowed me to do the talking and I think that began the healing process. We finished our meal and drove home. As we drove home, mom continued to prompt me as she sensed the flow of healing slow down. That night for the first time, the dreams were muted and although I threshed around in my bed, I did not wake in a cold sweat. Unbeknown to me my mom had heard me again and had sat for much of the night holding my hand. As the vivid terror passed I eventually slept deeply and satisfyingly.

The next morning as mom and I ate breakfast she mentioned that I had had a bad dream again and that she felt that in order for me to complete the healing process I had to forgive myself for the things I had done, even though those actions were done under orders.

I was at a loss “Mom I am not sure what you mean. It is all very well to say that I must forgive myself, but to do it is more difficult.”

“Do you remember what it took when you pulled that prank at school, how you were going around feeling guilty because you had done something wrong, you knew it was wrong and until you got punished for it you did not rest”

“Yes but that was because I knew what you would say when you found out, and when you did in fact find out I got a good hiding. If memory serves me I could not sit comfortably for nearly a week, my butt was so damn sore”

“You had better watch your mouth young man; you know I don’t allow profanity in this home.”

“Sorry mom I didn’t mean anything by it, are you saying I should get a spanking in order to make me feel better?”

“What I am saying is that maybe, you will feel better with yourself if you get to be a little boy even if it is only while you are over mommies lap getting your fanny blistered. You always feel better once you have had a good cry. You know mom has forgiven you and that once you do it is all over. Until you forgive yourself, you will not be able to go on from here and the dreams and nightmares will not go away, they will continue to torment you. You lack direction, my love and guidance will give you that direction again. I will always be here to give that direction and my hairbrush will help you learn the lesson it teaches.”

I trembled with a sense of dread, I was now sure, that mom was going to blister my fanny, and the fact that I had to ask was a new development.

Mom said that she would leave it up to me, she would not bring it up again but if I wanted, I could come to her bedroom after 8pm tonight and take it from there.

The rest of the morning went by in a flash; it seemed no sooner had we packed away the breakfast dishes that we were in the kitchen preparing lunch. I had spent most of the morning out in the garden enjoying the solitude and the tranquillity, mom wisely left me to my own devices and as I pondered on what we discussed I saw the logic in mom’s argument. It had been a long time since I last was spanked and it did seem as though I had no direction anymore.  A spanking would give me direction as I would have to reluctantly ask for it, then subject myself to going over mom’s lap, allowing her to remove my trousers and underwear and then she would hit me repeatedly with what ever implement she chose until I broke down and cried. The rest of the day passed in pretty much the same vein and as we, prepared dinner there seemed to be a sombre mood in the house.

I was unable to eat much and pushed my food around in my plate, mom ate and then together we washed up the dishes, “Mario, I am going to my room now I feel like reading, if you need me you only have to ask.”

With that, she got up and walked though the house to her room leaving me to my thoughts, her invitation uppermost in my mind.

For the next 30 minutes, I sat at the table, rooted unable to move. All my doubts, insecurities came to the fore. Eventually I got up and slowly, as a condemned man walked through the house until I came to my moms closed bedroom door. Taking a deep breath I knocked and heard mom say, “Mario, you may come in, the door is not locked” I opened the door and walked in, mom was sat in an easy chair near her bed. This room was the safest room in the house. This room was also the place where mom would take us to spank land, where she lovingly taught us wayward kids to mind her.

I walked up to her and kneeling in front of her said, “mmom, I am so sorry, I feel so very lost, all I want is to be your boy again, I don’t know what I need but I trust you to know” having said that I broke down and cried. She gripped my head in her small hand and forced me to look into her eyes. “In a few moments we are going to deal with your behaviour these past 18 months. Once we have done that you will feel better within your self. You have told me much about what you did, is there anything you missed. That you haven’t told me about?”

Her eyes seemed to penetrate though my soul, searching out all my secrets, haltingly I spilled the beans about the days and nights spent drunk and the Russian roulette played with a .38 special revolver. Mom took in this news quite calmly, although her eyes opened wide as I told how we played with a revolver loaded with one round, how we spun the chamber and put the barrel to our head and pulled the trigger, then drank some more. Her lips pursed then when I was done mom said, “Stand up.” She got up and walked to the bed, where sitting down she said that since I had grown so much she felt that my going over her lap would be too difficult for her to manage. “I want you to lie over my legs with your upper body on the bed and your hands under your chest.” As I began to lower myself onto her lap, she stopped me, “do you normally get a spanking with your trousers up?” “No mom, I don’t” “Well then what are you waiting for then Get those trousers around your ankles and be quick about it.”

I stood up and quickly removed the offending garments, however for my forgetfulness SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK to back of my exposed thighs. It stung a foretaste of what was to come.

As I lay down again, ensuring I complied with all the instructions I received I shivered in anticipation and a small pang of fear. I do not mean fear in the sense of been afraid of mom, but fear in that this spanking promised to be a very memorable one. This was not to punish me, for I had done nothing wrong. It was a spanking to purge all the demons accumulated, in the theatre of war along with all its horrors, which was why I was scared.

Mom raised her hand high and brought it down with a crisp flick of her wrist, SMACK it landed in the middle of my butt, not overly hard it none the less stung. I grunted as the sting from that first spank rose to a point where it began to get uncomfortable. Just as it peaked SMACK, a second spank landed directly on top of the first one, it too peaked after around 7 or 8 seconds. The skin near those two spanks began to change colour, turning slightly pink. SMACK SMACK, two more landed in quick succession, one below and the second above the initial two spanks. The sting grew until it now reached the point where it became painful and I groaned in dismay.

SMACK SMACK SMACK, three more in succession, this time all three landed on one cheek as mom began to branch out. SMACK SMACK SMACK. All on the opposite cheek.   Now I became more vocal and said “Oww mom it hurts…” “OF course it hurts son, it is a spanking, and it is supposed to hurt.”

“Mom, please I don’t want this spanking. Please don’t spank me so hard.” “You know when I spank you Mario that I and I alone decide how hard or how long you get spanked. You know you need this so hold on my boy, it is about to get much worse.”

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK. A flurry of spanks rained down on my upturned bottom. Now I began to groan and yelp. The discomfort had reached and past the stage where it was bearable and I began to sniff and cry out with each spank. Mom concentrated on that special place, just below my ass proper, sometimes landing three or four hard spanks on the same spot. This magnified the effect and added to the sensitivity of that area caused me to rapidly lose concentration and the resolve to remain stoic.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

By now, my ass had reached a bright shade of pink, the surface of my butt reached boiling point and I think you could have fried an egg on the surface. With out realising it my right hand had tried to cover my butt in a vain attempt to protect it. “Move that hand young man,” said mom as she immediately began to spank my thighs. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK.

This fresh attack had a dramatic reaction, as mom slapped the back of my legs, the pain caused me to arch my back, the nerve endings sensitive, and pain quickly caused sobs to burst forth. With out missing a beat mom grabbed the wayward hand and gripping it tightly forced it and my arm up into the small of my back. At the same time mom opened her legs and allowed my torso to drop between them. This allowed her to entrap my legs pinning me further.

The spanking slowed and then stopped; looking back at mom, I saw her reach for her trusty brush. I gasped when I saw it and cried out to her appealing to her love for me. “Mom, please not with the brush, mom, I’m sorry, please I’ll be good I promise. I don’t need this hard a spanking so please mom I’m begging you.”

Mom looked at me and with a pat of the brush on my already sore bottom said to me, “Mario when a boy says he doesn’t need a good spanking, he invariably needs a much harder spanking than he thinks he needs. Hold on my boy this is really going to hurt”. With that, she raised her hand up high and the spanking recommenced CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK. This new volley of spanks really sent me into overdrive but there was nowhere for me to go for mom had secured me. I yelled at the pain, my lungs expelling the air inside them as my screech of utter shock changed into a keening wail by the third spank. Recognisable speech changed into a blubbering interspersed with great gut wrenching sobs that seemed to come from deep within my psyche. No longer did I care about anything other than the burning sensation spreading across the lower reaches of my ass. CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK and another volley sent me even further into spank land. It was as if a thousand pins were pricking my skin. Now I howled and literally screamed as the burning intensified even more. Mom put down the brush for that volley was the last and the hardest.

For an hour, I lay and sobbed, the pain causing barriers erected by war to come crashing down. My butt had begun to turn blue in colour, mom sat there, my upper body supported by the bed but my lower body supported by her lap. She touched my shoulder and very gently said to me, “Mario, can you hear me?” In between crying and sniffing, it took me about 30 seconds before I could formulate and answer. “Yes mommy, I’m sorry mommy, please mommy don’t smack me anymore.” “Mario, I’m not going to spank you anymore, certainly not tonight. I want you to try get up now. I know you are sore and mom is sorry she had to spank you so hard tonight”

In slow stages I managed to get up, I grabbed my butt trying to hold it tenderly for the pain was still so great that tears flowed freely as I stood up. Mom got me to lie down again, first pulling the sheets so that nothing could further hurt me. She left to the bathroom returning with a bottle of arnica cream.

When mom returned she found me where she left me, my bottom already beginning to turn purple. I flinched as mom covered my butt with the cream; my butt throbbed with every heartbeat, my breathing ragged and shallow as I struggled to recover from the spanking I had just received. Great gut wrenching sobs emanated from the pit of my stomach. Once mom finished spreading cream all over my butt, she scooted to the top of my bed and sat against the headboard. She urged me into her arms and sat there gently rocking me, as very exhausted; I slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.             

Hello from Mario's mom.

I want to take this opportunity to welcome everyone to this blog. In the past you have been treated to my son Mario and his antics, most of which have resulted in him ending up with a very sore hot and red bottom, all courtesy of my trusty hair brush, augmented sometimes with a strap, cane or even a wooden ruler.

My name is Marta, mom to Mario and my sons David and Grant. I am a divorcee, my husband and I split three years before Mario came into my life and quite literally turned it upside down. The split was fairly amicable with the two boys spending most of the time in boarding school, They now only come home in the long holidays preferring to spend time with their father and his new family. This meant I was alone for quite a long time during the school year. 

Mario came into my life shortly before his 14th birthday. His mother and I worked in the same office at the local copper mine. Well as a single woman there was always something that needed fixing or worked on and Mario got volunteered by his mother. At first the times we spent together was directly related to some task Mario did for me. He would accompany me to take David and Grant back to the school hostel after a weekend at home or after a school holiday. Mario spoke only when spoken too and I immediately noticed how polite the boy was. 


Gradually he opened up to me and I soon discovered that this was a little boy sorely in need of maternal love and care. Not wanting to pry I asked his homeroom teacher, who conveniently happened to be a close personal friend if she knew what Mario's home situation was. The story disturbed me and as we grew closer together, he began to spend more and more time at my house.

I have no doubt his parents cared for him but being so much older they did not have the gumption to deal with a dynamic youngster who demanded so much attention. The very first thing I noticed about Mario was his need for attention, good or bad. Like any normal boy, if he feels neglected he will take any attention given even if he gets into trouble for it.
At first I was puzzled by this and got very cross with him, I would scold him and threaten to "take him down a peg or two". Finally a day came when my reluctance to punish him for being naughty overcame the shear brazenness of his behaviour and without really thinking I took his underwear, in this case his swimming costume, down and gave him what was to become his first spanking from me.

The day had dawned crystal clear, by 9am it was clear today would be a scorcher. The boys, all three of them, yes it was one of those rare weekends when my sons, David and Grant, who got along famously with Mario, were home for the weekend. I decided that it was such a nice day that we would go to a local spa for the day. 

On the way it became clear that the three boys were going to be a handful, 
"A word to the wise, if the three of you do not want to get a hiding today I suggest you tone down the behaviour. I really don't want to spoil the day by spanking you, but if you don't listen I will. That goes for you as well Mario."

A chorus of "yes mom and yes Mrs Van" followed my scolding and for the rest of the journey, the boys were very well behaved.
We had a grand time and shortly after lunch I noticed Mario had disappeared.
Telling the boys to remain where they were I went to find Mario. 
To my shock and horror I soon found him, hiding behind my camper van smoking a cigarette. Before I could stop myself, I had grabbed the shocked boy by the ear and after a few hard solid smacks to his bottom told him he would be getting a hard spanking on his cold wet bare bottom.

Opening the side door I pulled the protesting teenager's costume down to his knees , bent him over the seat of the camper van and started warming his bottom. 
Mario soon became vocal in his cries, pleading with me not to tell his father. He was terrified of a beating from his father and again and again he pleaded for me not to tell his father.
"I do not condone smoking young man" SMACK "I will spank you each and every time I discover you lighting a cigarette" SMACK "It is a horrible filthy habit" SPANK SPANK SPANK  "and no child of mine will be allowed to smoke".
Mario is adamant I spanked him for at least 10 minutes, in reality it lasted no longer than 3 or 4 minutes.
Realising he needed to understand the seriousness of his actions I decided to finish off his punishment with a dozen solid spanks using a wooden ruler I had brought home from work. About 24" long it was 2" wide and nearly a 1/4" thick. It would really sting a well warmed up bottom.

I reached into my bag and withdrew the ruler, Mario saw it and immediately pleaded with me, begging me not to use the ruler on him. I reminded him of the gravity of the situation, however after promising him the matter would remain between us,  he was a lot happier. 
"Mario you have been a very naughty boy by smoking that cigarette, I am going to spank you, because you need to learn a lesson." With that said he turned his head away from me and actually pushed his red bottom up, inviting me to spank him.

Without further ado, I started spanking him again, the ruler stinging the red bottom before me. By the third spank he again became very vocal, promising never to misbehave again. Promises and entreaties flowed with each smack. Finally on the 10th spank he dropped his head onto the seat and said "Mommy, I am sorry, I promise I will never smoke again"

At these words every emotion came pouring out his soul, I dropped the ruler and gathered the sobbing child into my arms.
It was a cathartic experience for Mario, All his hurts and emotions came rushing out. He hugged me so tightly I could hardly breathe. Sobbing he said "mommy please don't cast me aside, please don't send me away. I love you mommy and I am sorry I was naughty."
I reassured him that I would never cast him aside, promising to always be there for him.
"Mario, look at me child," I promise you that I will be here for you, You have crept into my heart and if you wish you can continue to call me mommy. I would lave you to be my son  and as long as you need me I am here, but young man, if you ever pull a stunt like this again I will take my hair brush to your bottom and that son you don't want, just ask your brothers."

Marta         

Spanked by my crush

Spanked By My Crush

The Story of my life part 1

I think I was about 14 the first time I saw her as she dropped my mother off at home after work. She was 33 years old, a divorced mother of two young boys. Her hair was a deep auburn hanging down below the level of her shoulders. Standing 5’ 6” in her stockings, she was a knockout and I was smitten, hook line and sinker.

My mother had a thing about offering my services. Whether it was to mow the lawn or fix something around her house, my mother told me to help her, anything she needed.

I discovered her name was Marta Van Rensburg, shortened to Mrs V.

For the first year or so, nothing special happened to change the status of our friendship until I was asked to drive with her when she dropped her boys off at their father’s house for a long weekend. Her ex husband lived about a 150 miles away so the whole trip took around 5 hours and it meant we returned home around midnight. My parents had already retired for the night so I was invited to spend the night at Mrs. V’s house.

We got to her house and she made us both a cup of coffee which we drank sitting around the kitchen table. We talked and talked way into the night eventually going to bed around three in the morning.

The following morning dawned bright and clear, as I was dressed and walked through into the kitchen I found Mrs. V already in the kitchen making breakfast. We sat and ate, enjoying each other’s company. Whilst clearing away the dishes I opened a cupboard drawer and spotted a small wooden paddle lying in the drawer. Without thinking, I reached in and picked it up. Turning to Mrs. V I asked what it was used for. She smiled and taking the paddle out of my hand swatted my butt with it, asking, what you think it is used for.

The following weekend Mrs. V phoned and asked if I could look after the boys for a couple of hours. I agreed and for the rest of the week Mrs. V was never far from my thoughts. For the most part, I found myself thinking and fantasising about being over Mrs. V’s lap being spanked. I just had to know more. During to evening I quizzed the boys regarding spanking, they both told me their mom although not liking the fact she had to punish them knew that young boys needed firm discipline and applied judgement when situations and circumstances demanded it.

The more I delved into the subject the more Mrs. V became the object of my desire. She filled my every waking moment and was never out of my mind. I began to look for ways to be around them and every opportunity that presented itself I took. Today as I look back on those times I am sure she knew the score. I do not think I was at all subtle and she was definitely not stupid. Many times during the year, she spanked the boys whilst I was there and on more than one occasion if she was particularly annoyed she directed threats in my direction. Telling me that I was not too old to get a spanking from her and not to think that because we were friends, that she would not smack me if she thought it necessary. 

One holiday we went out for the day to a resort about 60 miles away. The weather was gorgeous and as we drove to the resort the boys played merry hell. Not content to sit and enjoy the hour-long drive they decided to annoy one another. Unfortunately, this meant they also annoyed their mom. She warned them both, telling them she would not hesitate to punish them if they continued to misbehave. I tried to protect the boys only to be told by this very annoyed mom that she had obtained permission from my mom that if she decided I needed a spanking she was to give it.

 “All three of you are skating on very thin ice I therefore suggest you behave unless you want a spanking.”     

“Yes mom, mom we don’t want you to spank us” came a chorus from the boys.

“What about you Mario, do you want to fulfil your desire I promised your mom that I would treat you like one of my own. Now what is it to be?”

No ma’am I don’t want you to smack me, I’m sorry, I will behave”

For the rest of the drive to the resort we did that. We behaved. The day passed and it was glorious, bright sunshine and for me being near to the object of my desire. We splashed water over each other and had a great time, then I blew it, she caught me sneaking a cigarette. She grabbed my ear and pulled me in close enough for me to hear her whisper.

“That is the most stupid thing you have ever done, not only are you going to get a spanking from me but after I tell your mom you will more than likely get one from your dad as well. Now go and get your things then wait for me at the car”

She let go my ear and with a firm spank on my wet bum propelled me on my way to certain doom. I picked up my clothes while she sent the boys to go and change, telling them to wait for her in the cafeteria warning them to remain there or else.

I had reached the car and did not have long to wait before she arrived. She opened the door and slid open the side sliding door where she reached into her bag and removed a wooden ruler it was enormous, for a ruler, that is. Easily 24 inches long and 2 inches wide it was a quarter inch thick. Mrs. V, then grabbed my ear and positioned me to her liking bent down, butt in the air. Legs apart, she tapped my feet until I spread my legs apart to her satisfaction.

She warned me that if I tried to interfere with my spanking she would give me extra and that I was to count them out aloud, thanking her for each one.

Rearing back she took aim and WOOSH, I heard it long before I felt it. CRACK…  A band of white hot agony seared my butt as the first of what turned out to be nine strokes landed. I had a bad track record in dealing with pain and as I reared up my hands reached back to cradle my tender buns. I did the spank dance, not hearing my beautiful disciplinarian tell me to stay in position Eventually I bent down to hear Mrs. V inform me that because of my not listening to her instructions that she was not counting that stroke.

“Yes ma’am, please don’t smack me anymore” I pleaded.

“Mario I told you and you did not listen, so we begin again, now get ready”  WOOSH then CRACK. Each stroke lighting a fire that seemed to be never ending. Twice I forgot to count and true to her word they were repeated. I never heard her tell me to get up. My whole world had dissolved and all I could think of was the pain I was in.

The trip home was quiet, the boys knew as soon as they saw me that their mom had spanked me, not wishing to share my fate they were models of good behaviour.

There was still one final surprise to come. Mrs. V took me to her home and after putting the sleeping boys to bed, tenderly ministered to my well spanked bottom until I too slept cradled in her arms. She never told my parents about the smoking or the spanking

     

Something New

This is a first, an online spanking. On reflection it was a very enjoyable experience, different but never the less enjoyable. I have a new cyber mother and during a chat, told my new mother about my day, what had taken place during my day and things I said so on and so on. During the conversation my mother in response to something I said, asked me to elaborate, I responded and said that I had lost my temper due to frustration and in response to a snide comment from a work collegue snapped and swore at him.

Mommy asked me what I had said and when I told her I was ordered home and told I could expect a hard spanking and a mouth washing for my potty mouth. Bearing in mind I was 20 miles from home parked alongside the road, Itold my mommy it would take me about 45 minutes for me to get home. As I pulled up outside my home a message came throough ordering me into my bedroom and instructing me to remove my clothes.

The strangest thing took place as I made my way upstairs to my bedroom undressing along the way, I began to feel a sense of impending doom, my bottom began to twinge and throb, almost in anticipation of the spanking it knew was coming.

As I opened my messenger a mesage came through telling me I had long enough and I had better be sitting at my pc ready for my spanking.I reported to mommy thatI was ready, mommy asked me if I had complied with her instruction, reminding me I was honour bound to comply and co-operate fully.


I responded in the afirmative, mommy then sat me on her lap and began to scold me, slapping my thigh when Iwas reticent in answering her questions. I was then instructed to get my hair brush and a bar of soap, I told mommy that I did not have a hair brush, but had a body brush and asked if that would do.

"Excellent, that will do wonderfully" said mommy as she heard my news. "Now stand in the corner and put the soap in your mouth"

I balked at this instruction, no ways was that horrible soap going anywhere near my mouth. Mommy had to resort to threatening me with an even worse punishment should I not comply.

I stood in the corner, feeling like a right twit, bare bum and a bar of soap in my mouth! Yuk, I had forgotten what the taste of soap was like, absolutely vile, I wanted to hurl, I could taste the bile gathering in my throat, Just when I flt I could no longer stand it mommy rescued me by calling me from the corner and allowing me to rinse out my mouth.

Now, came the spanking and I was required to simply follow mommy's instructions. I had to spank myself on mommy's command. Firstly by hand then using the brush, as hard as I could.

As I carried out mommy's commands I again had the sense of actually beng spanked by my mommy. There were tears in my eyes as I did as instructed. I was not self spanking, my mommy had her naughty, potty mouthed son over her lap and was punishing him.

Due to my complying with all my mommy's instructions I was allowed a special treat which made the whole spanking worthwhile.

Mario   

A voice crying out

As a child I very often cried out for someone to love me for who I was. It was a difficult childhood back then in the sixties, I do not remember much of the Fifties, too young you see. However much I tried to believe my mommy and my daddy loved me, the math never added up.
Dad was the patriarch of the family, the oldest son of the oldest son. His word was law, cousins came from near and far to ask for advice, a business deal here a family matter there. Dad left the day to day running of the family to my mom. Mom in turn left the disciplining of my brother and myself to my big sister. Her name is Celestina and she is nine years my senior, Graham my brother is just over four years older tham me. Last of all is Peta, my baby sister, she is nine years younger than me.
I can only ever remember one spanking from my mother in all my growing up years, Spankings from Celestina however I can remember, there were an aweful lot of them. At least one a week, more often more than two a week. I suffered from that malady all little boys suffer from, if my mommy loved me she would spank me.
I was nine when Peta arrived on the scene and the events in my life, coupled with the formation of the Republic of Zambia caused me to hate Peta with a passion. Mommy has a new baby and now I am not wanted, because six weeks after Peta was born the three of us were loaded into the family car and driven to South Africa where we were quite literally dumped at the boarding school. Mommy and daddy plus baby Peta said goodbye, be good and scarpered, never to be seen for the whole year.
I saw my siblings every weekend and ran riot through the school. If I was a good little boy, nobody bothered with me but if a naughty boy I got lots of attention. I quickly discovered that attention of any kind was good, even the kind that left me with a very sore bottom. At least I got some attention.
I had been at this hostel for about six months by now and the hostel staff were disparing about what to do with me. I was a nine year old walking disaster zone. Along came Mrs. Carol Durell, She was a small dumpy lady with a heart of gold who took me under her wing and loved me like no other. She also made sure I behaved myself.

Spanking now took on a new meaning, If I  misbehaved at all Mrs Durell knew about it, that afternoon in the privacy of her quarters, down came my shorts and underwear and across her knees I went. Her very large, very hard hairbrush lectured me about the error and folly of my ways.  Never stopping at the first sign of tears but continuing until she heard true remorse in my voice and cries. She would send me into the corner where I stood until I was called where upon she would gather me into her arms and hug me. Kissing away my tears and then putting me to bed. For two and a half years Mrs Durell cared for me, loved me and spanked me for each and every naughty deed. It got to the point where I never got punished by any of the teachers, they simply sent me to visit my other mommy.

Due to a very bad experience with an older pupil who assaulted me, I made certain that I behaved with all the male teachers at school. At high school I met Marta, Marta Van Rensburg, the lady that became my other mom, She worked with my mother and basically adopted me into her family. She had two sons of her own who spent the school holidays with their father leaving her alone. She took me with her family to a picnic resort and gave me my first spanking from her on that trip. She caught me smoking and even though my own mother never did anything about it Marta spanked me using a wooden ruler similar to a chalkboard ruler.
Marta or mom as she became spanked me on many an occasion, she loved me implicitly, demanded the very best from all three of us and when we failed to live up to our standards, took us all over her knee and spanked us. She made sure my grades were good, If I skylarked she disciplined me, if I could not graasp the work she spent hours helping me, always striving to instil in me a desire to achieve my very best potential.    

The Summons part 2

  Part 2

This part of the story has been written in the first person

It seemed as though time stood still when I heard these words that signalled the start of my spanking for disobeying my aunty. I felt the time for being a brat had come and gone. The trepidation and anxiety I had faced ever since receiving aunty Rachel’s email telling me to present myself for a very well deserved spanking evolved into full on dread. The memory of my last hair brushing given me by aunty Rachel and how much it hurt as well as the knowledge I had truly disappointed her and that she meant to teach me never to disobey her ever again caused me to suffer an intense sense of fear the likes of which I last experienced as a young man entering a combat zone for the first time.

Standing to do Aunty Rachel’s bidding knowing full well that when she returned the time for explaining would be over and it would be time to pay the piper. Aunty Rachel used the distraction of my undressing to take the tea mugs into the kitchen leaving me alone for the first time since arriving. Fleeting thoughts of flight swept through my mind, almost to the point of slipping my shoes back on and running for the front door.

Deep in my inner most being I knew one thing, that I deserved every painful spank. Aunty Rachel returned to the lounge and seated herself down on the stool, quietly waiting for me to finish getting ready.

“Fold your trousers neatly Mario, don’t simply dump them. Come on then, leave your boxers on, I will take them down when I am ready.” I quickly did as aunty Rachel instructed and stood next to her right knee waiting for her to tell me to ‘turn over her knee.

“Come on then little boy, you have an appointment with my hair brush and going slowly will not help you at all. You know what to do.” With that, Aunty Rachel parted her thighs and then pulled me over her left leg, leaving her right leg to lock over the back of my thighs effectively pinning me down and thus preventing me from kicking.

“Mario, look at me, child.” Craning my head and looking over my shoulder at my aunty, the tears already pooling in the corner of my eyes I lay and awaited the actual scolding that was still to come.

“We both know why you find yourself in this position, believe me when I say this is hurting me just as much as you, why don’t you save them tears for later.” The scolding was short and to the point. Moments later it began.

The first spank struck smack in the middle of my right cheek, followed by a salvo of about a dozen spanks alternating on both sides of my bottom and  all striking home with considerable force.  The sting was mind blowing, normally the only sounds emanating  from my lips was in answer to a question and then only after having repeated the question and getting no answer my aunty spanked the back of my legs hard. Now cries of pain were wrought from my lips as the spanks struck home with force and an intensity I have never experienced.

A second salvo peppered my bottom, this time aunty Rachel branched out a bit and the burn and sting rapidly built up in the newly spanked flesh.  Gasping now interspersed with real tears, as much from the trauma of the hard spanking as from the events leading to this moment. My right hand flew to try protect my bottom from the sting of the spanking as it multiplied exponentially, now it was beginning to hurt, really hurt. Aunty did not miss a beat, she simply changed target; my thighs now bore the brunt of the spanking, Cries of protest followed the fresh burning sensation rapidly building as aunty delivered a series of hard slaps to my legs. Switching target again after disabling my errant hand and locking it up behind my back Aunty fired salvo after salvo at the rapidly reddening sit spots so openly displayed before her. By now the whole of my bottom was as red as a post box. Sobbing replaced the cries for mercy and aunty still spanked on for a further full minute.

Suddenly aunty Rachel stopped spanking, the lull allowed my bum to recover. Slowly she lowered my boxers, her punishing hand now gently rubbing the tenderised cheeks, “ahh a nice shade of pink, but still not red enough, what colour does aunty need to see Mario”?

Struggling to regain some form of composure before replying; “Red ma’am, you want it to be red ma’am, It hurts aunty, it hurts.”

“I know it does my boy, which is why it is called a spanking, you need to understand that the hurt makes all the disobedience go away and teaches my little boy to be good and to listen to what aunty tells him”

With that said Aunty Rachel began slowly spanking, left; right; left; right slowly building up the tempo and intensity until she again was striking at around 60 spanks per minute. Now with my boxers lowered and my bum totally exposed the spanking hurt far more than before  in the dozen or so times I found myself upended and bare assed over aunty Rachel’s knee.

My cries grew louder and trying to escape was out of the question, as much as I tried, I was going nowhere thanks to the leg locked over the back of my thighs. Like a child pleading for mercy, cries like “stop it please”; “no more”; “promise aunty”, that got a reply, no lull in the spanking though, just a “what are you promising Mario?”!I will be good , I promise you aunty I will be good, sorry I was so naughty aunty…”, I howled as each spank lit a fire in my butt and once again my hand tried to cover my bottom. As soon as aunty saw my hand fly towards my bottom she switched target again and really laid into my thighs and the back of my legs. How long this phase of my spanking lasted remains unknown, no more than 4 or 5 minutes. It no longer mattered as all the fight was gone and worrying about it was mute.

Dimly I heard aunty Rachel tell me to get up and fetch the brush from where it had laid since my last spanking a month ago. Fetching the brush and cradling my sore bottom in one hand I gave her the brush and started to plead with her; the thought of the hair brush striking my inflamed and swollen butt filling me with dread.

 “Please aunty Rachel, don’t hair brush me please I will never disobey you ever again.”

Aunty Rachel merely reached out for my hand and again drew me over her knee, again locking her leg behind me, pinning me in place.

Then I felt a cool sensation spreading across the cheeks of my bottom as aunty gently spread some cream all over my bottom. Although the immediate effect was cooling and soothing, knowing that the cream tended to increase the sting of the spanking, I cried out “please don’t aunty that makes it hurt more when you spank me with the hair brush.” With that the tears began again and the soft cries became shrieks as aunty began to pepper my poor red bottom using that awful brush. Salvo again followed salvo, sometimes three or four spanks before moving on to a seemly untouched spot. Cries came unabated as the full awful effect of a hairbrushing turned me into a little boy once more. I was no longer the mature man, father and grandfather, screaming and crying there instead, was a 10 year old boy.

“Oh God it hurts, please aunty it hurts so much… Nooooooooo…” 

  During this time, it seemed as though the spanking would never stop, the fire in my bottom quickly rekindled as that awful brush wrecked havoc. Dark purple spots began to form on my sit spots, just under the crease became a mass of bruises as the brush did its awful work.

It was long after the spanks finally stopped falling that surrounding detail and the soft soothing crooning as my aunty gently soothed me calming my raging fear and allowing me to finally leave “spankland” and return to the reality of time. I jumped to my feet, my ruined bottom cradled in my hands, dancing on the spot, doing what all freshly spanked children do.

Unbeknown to me aunty had risen from the spanking stool and seated herself in the middle of the sofa once again. Beckoning to me, she lovingly drew my broken form across her lap. Thinking the spanking was about to recommence drew plea after plea from my lips, hysteria grew as the thought of even more spanking flooded my brain. I tried to get up to run to escape and aunty had to hold me down in place as she gently said; “Mario my love, I am not going to spank you any more today, it is over sweetheart, all over I promise. Aunty simply wants to apply some cream to your bottom.

With that she allowed me to sit sideways on her lap as she very gently soothed my fears and calmed my cries. Holding her tightly I sobbed and cried my heart out, my remorse and sorrow at having gone though such trauma leaving me totally exhausted and needing reassurance.

I vaguely remember telling aunty that I would never disobey her ever again, promising to always remember to take my medication every day and that above all I would be a very good boy for her.

She chuckled at that and as she gently soothed the arnica cream all over my bottom. Gently spreading the cream she apologised for hurting me as yelping at the pain I flinched when a particularly sore place was touched.

Postscript.

It took nearly three days before I could sit down without wincing from the pain and two weeks later there were still dark blue bruises evident.

Then a summons as a note was posted through the door. It read;

“Mario, can you come across the road, I seem to remember I gave you two weeks to recover from your spanking at aunty Rachel, Well my naughty boy, time is up you still have a spanking due and Mr. Smack is waiting for you.”

It was signed; Aunty Nita!

“Agggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”