Thighs Flambe

Incendiary (adj.) 1. combustible, flammable, burnable, ignitable.

Yes, that pretty well describes my thighs all too many times as a child. In the southern states, where I grew up, shorts and short sleeves are the dress code much of the year. Growing up a military brat and having cheap (yes I said it, CHEAP!) parents, most all of my sister's and my summer clothes were either hand-me-downs, cut-off's or charitable gifts from friends. Often they were threadbare and too tight. My mom always told us she was saving for us to have nice school clothes. In her defense we were all active, outdoors kids who were really hard on clothes and, in fact, we usually had nice school clothes (which we were promptly ordered out of as soon as we came home from school).

So getting more to the point, our bare thighs were invariably exposed and vulnerable to assault much of the year, which my mother in particular, took full advantage of. Don't get me wrong, when we were breaking rules, disobeying, coming home late....a stern lecture in the privacy of our bedroom followed up with a long, hard bare bottom spanking usually awaited us. What I'm talking about here are those times when we didn't do anything really bad.....It was just that my mom was in a foul mood, someone had already ticked her off about something else and she lost patience.

I've read on EP several times about how their mom never spanked in anger. I can assure you that was never the case in our home. When mom was angry someone usually got hit. She was not abusive, nor did she scream or loose control and go psychotic. She would just quickly grab us, throw us over the arm of the sofa, across our beds or over a chair and slap the living crap out of our thighs.
Believe me, it didn't take long and our thighs had angry bright red hand prints and finger marks all over them. And it didn't matter if it was the front or the back of our thighs either. My mom wasn't discriminatory.

A vivid recollection I will share to illustrate my point happened when I was 10 or 11 in the car. We were going to my aunt's house an hour away from home and dad was driving. Us 3 girls were in the back seat, with me, being the middle kid, in the middle. We were bickering and mom had told us to stop. I don't think she as all too happy to be going anyway because she didn't really like my aunt. Anyway, when she said something to us again, I gave her one of my usual smart-*** remarks that so often resulted in my bottom resembling the brake lights on our car. Mom unbuckled her seat belt and I knew I was in for it. She turned around and leaned over the seat and grabbed my arms with one hand and began slapping the tops of my legs into an inferno with the other. It didn't take long for her to do an exceptional job that also made an example, for my sisters to see, of what happened to smart-mouthed bratty little girls. Needless to say the remainder of the trip was made in silence, at least in the back seat. Thru tear flooded eyes I spent that time looking down at my incendiary thighs. They burned like crazy and were flaming red. I could see mom's finger marks all over my legs. When she turned back around in the seat I was crying loudly. In a controlled but angry voice I remember her telling me, "Gretchen Lynn, if you don't stop crying I'm going to have your dad pull this car over and I'll give you something to cry about."
badgretchen badgretchen
18-21, F
5 Responses Jul 14, 2011

I was 9 when I had the smart idea of I was not going to uncover my bottom when i got my next spanking. Soon enough, it was spanking time and I put my hands over my bottom, and refused to move them so mommy could spank my bottom. She gave me a thigh spanking, mostly on the back of my legs, a couple on the inside. My hands were gone after the second spank, it stung so much, but I got the hole spanking on my bare thighs. It stung so much more that way, I danced and cried a lot longer than usual. that one, i was not stupid enough to repeat.

Hi Churchward, Looking back on it I think I had a very refined talent for throwing matches on gasoline. (or is it petrol where you are?). Both of my parents had a low threshold for us fighting and I think the fact that it was only a short trip only made them less tolerant. As my dad so succinctly put it a few times when he had lost patience, "Get in there, put you seatbelt on and I don't want to hear another peep out of you until we get there." I don't think a time ever went buy when I didn't say, "Peep," afterward. Thankfully I was mostly ignored but sometimes............Ouchy!

I don't think any spankings ever happened during any of our trips either long or short, though it seems that it sometimes went over in that direction some. Also those childhood memories went into a fog. But if I remember it right then my older bother and I had once gotten into some trouble for whispering and playing with the shadows like a puppet show after we were supposed to be all put to bed already at some motel somewhere and then for a last resort my father had made us sleep the other way around so that by then you would have to try and whisper with your feet. Also we didn't say peep like you did and also my parents didn't usually put it that strongly and most usually everyone talked in the car and now and then my parents announced a quiet time and then we always kept out mouths shut until they changed it. Now that I think of it it seems that we were probably exceptional for the fact by the time that my father would make it sound like thin ice some their quiet times would probably have stayed in force, pretty much, with maybe a very occasional interruption, for as long as they liked it.

We used to go more than a thousand miles with stops and we would probably not have been hit right away so fast for a smart-*** remark. Also where I came from such a remark would hardly have occurred to anyone.


I hated that saying 'I'll give you something to cry about',or my Moms favorite 'Do you want me to spank your bottom'? As a Mom now i try hard not to say either.Luckily i was only ever spanked on my bottom not my legs,but i can imagine how much that hurt.

It's funny about the "I'll give you something to cry about" is that I heard that soo much as a kid, that apparently it spread and I've actually used that term. I always vowed never to say it and i have in fact said it quite a bit. :/