I Got Spanked As a Kid
I've always loved Halloween. The chilly nights, the fallen red and amber leaves rustling; the creepy looking tree limbs casting formidable shadows on the ground as a bright moon illuminates my trail can only be truly enjoyed in October. Horror movies are cool too. I think an unsuspecting emotional jolt is such a powerful emotion that it needs to be enjoyed sparingly in order to preserve its purity. And of course no childhood would be complete without the traditions of Trick or Treat.
My two sisters and I always took great pride in our home-made costumes. Nothing store bought here. Our costumes had to come from our imagination. They needed to be functional, somewhat durable, nothing too daring or dangerous, and they needed to be warm. If they weren’t warm enough, mom would insist we spoil our crafted illusions with winter coats, defeating the purpose of dressing up and looking stupid in front of my un-coated trick-or-treating friends.
When I was 12, I decided to be Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. This decision seemed more practical and do-able then the annoying Glinda – the good witch, or very cool Bastinda, the Wicked Witch of the West. The bulk of my Dorothy costume was easily gathered weeks before the night of the Occult celebration. We found the perfect blue checkered dress at Goodwill, a white bib-type apron, warm white stockings, and our neighbor Mr. Hitchin’s added a real wooden flip-top to a basket that I used to collect my sugary taxes.
The only thing that was missing was Dorothy’s iconic ruby slippers. We looked hard for something that would be acceptable, and everywhere we looked we came up short. My mom spotted a pair of healed flats at a yard sale that were the right style and size, but they were black – not red. “Well, these will just have to do.” Mom said, giving up on our scavenger hunt. I didn’t care for that answer one bit. She said we could probably color them with red spray paint, or paste some kind of red paper or Mylar plastic too them. This was more encouraging, and then I suggesting something utterly obscene.
“I know!” I shouted excitedly. “How about red glitter!!?”
I can still see the look in my mom’s eyes the moment I used the “G” word. “Ahh…No! I don’t think so” , she responded and quickly tried to get me to accept her ideas instead. Pressing my brilliant idea more – as I was often known to do – she gave the traditional money excuse, to which there is no reasonable reply.
“I’m not spending good money on something that won’t last more than 10 minutes! ”
I counter-attacked with a barrage of heart-felt Please’s and even gave her a heavy dose of sugar eyes. Nothing. Can you imagine? Even the ultimately attractive “Pretty please?? ” didn’t crack her firm decision. (Has this ever worked? I mean, for anyone?) Soon her elevated and harsh tone was my queue to back down.
You see, my mother had a real dislike of glitter. I’m not sure what sparkly trauma she had suffered. Perhaps she was abducted by fairies at some point and glitter invokes bad memories, i can't be sure. But it was clearly something significant and life altering.
Any toys that my sisters or I ever received that had glitter on them were immediately taken from their new packaging and shook with a vengeance over a garbage bag to release any loose glistening particulate the best she could. Glitter was removed from brand new Arts and Crafts sets before we received them and replaced instead with colorful beads, or in some cases, small dried pasta pieces. So this whole “no glitter” thing was nothing new to me, but that still didn’t mean I had to accept it.
Mr. Hitchins later proved his handyman skills once again and painted the shoes red. But they didn’t sparkle, or glisten, or even shine. Just plain flat, boring, OMG! I’m going to get laughed at, red.
While sitting in Art class at school a few days later, I developed cunning plan. I would “borrow” some glitter from school, and then once I got home would decorate my costume shoes, all before mom got home at 5:30. I could clean up, and everything would be perfect. My mom wouldn’t have to buy glitter, and I had the shoes I wanted.
After class ended, I asked my teacher Mr. Peirce if I could borrow some red glitter. I explained my dilemma and the challenges I was facing creating my movie-quality Dorothy costume, and how my mom didn’t want to buy any because of money troubles. He was a little reluctant at first, but gave in and we walked to the art supply closet. He handed me a half-empty bottle of “Modge Podge”, a popular craft adhesive and sealant, and reached for a box of glitter. He stammered a bit holding the 6”x6” unopened box, unsure if he truly wanted to commit. “Do you promise to bring back what you don’t use?” I promised, and he handed me the one-pound box of ruby red glitter.
I don’t think many people realize how much glitter makes up a full pound – but trust me – a 6x6 box of compressed bulk glitter is A LOT of flippin glitter!!
After getting off the bus, I raced home to put my plan into action. I dutifully covered the kitchen table with old newspapers, even taping down the edges. Moved the chairs to the side, and went to work. I spread a generous amount of Modge Podge on the shoes and using a ¼ cup measuring spoon, I doused the shoes with so much sparkle that even the great and powerful Oz himself would be impressed. I let it dry for a bit and was getting a snack when my middle sister Rachel came home. Excited to see the twinkling craft, she wanted to do something with glitter too. This was a first in the house, so I felt it fair that she could also exploit this opportunity.
Using a few cookie cutters, she traced out designs onto cardboard from an old cereal box and cut out her shapes which she wanted to coat with glitter and make a necklace for herself. When It came time to apply the glitter, I came over and was about to dump a partially filled measuring cup onto her craft. “No!! I Wanna do it!” my sister shouted, pushing my hand away and reached for a spoon herself. Put off by her ungrateful reaction, I stood up holding still holding the glitter-filled measuring cup in my hand.
To this day, I don’t know why I did it, but instead of walking away, I secretly dumped half of the cup of glitter into a little pile on the top of her head. She continued to work tirelessly on her ornaments and with no clue about what I did. I giggled every time she moved and wiped away any glitter that would fall across her cheeks, completely unaware about how or why it got there. And then my Mom and youngest sister came walking in the door, much EARLIER than expected!
My youngest sister was the first into the kitchen. “AWWWW!!, What are you doing? Can I do something too?”, followed by my Mom who stood stunned in the kitchen door unable to find the words.
After a few very tense moments… “What??” I finally broke the ice. “I asked Mr. Pierce and he let me borrow the glitter to do my shoes. I PROMISE to clean everything up. PROMISE!” I said. Followed by “ Don’t Worry! OK?”
She was reluctant to reply. Her mouth was drawn tight into a crooked kiss as she walked slowly around kitchen table, looking for something, anything, to be really upset about. After a few moments, she let down her guard and told me, “Ok, it looks like you’re done… Now, clean it up and I don’t want to see ANY glitter anywhere. Do I make myself clear?” I agreed. And she told me that I should ask her BEFORE borrowing things from others, especially if they are from school. I again agreed, somewhat relieved.
She turned to my sisters and told run and get ready for Brownies. That’s when it occurred to me why she was home so early. My sisters had a Brownie meeting. Rachelle placed her red medallions carefully on a paper towel to dry and walked out of the kitchen, right past my mom who looked down and spotted the now embedded crown of glitter on the top of her head.
“What the… .. WHY ON EARTH???... HOW did you get glitter in your hair Rachelle?” Mom asked as she inhaled more and more deeply.
Rachelle didn’t know what she meant, and bent over and brushed her hair forward…sending a shower of glitter raining down onto the hallway carpet. “KELLY!!! You STUPID FACE!!”, Rachel’s favorite vulgar expression. My mom caught on quick and didn’t buy any of my “it was an accident” excuses, or rather - lies. Knowing I was awful at telling fibs, my mom took Rachel into the bathroom to quickly wash out her hair and get her ready to go to Brownies. I moved my shoes to the garage to dry, and went back to clean up – quickly.
Mom didn’t say a word and once my sisters were ready to go, they left without any announcement, just a slam of the front door. I knew this would give me 20 minutes to get things spik and span again, because my tummy was in knots. I knew what was coming. My mom knew what was coming, and yy sisters both knew what was coming. And I had a very good idea WHEN it would come.
Quickly I went to work cleaning up the kitchen. The box of glitter which looked unused was repacked and the lids taped tightly. I folded up the newspaper and tossed it. The table was wiped down, and the floor was next. How so much glitter ended up on the floor is somewhat of a mystery. We were fairly careful about that, and my only guess is came off the top of my sisters head. I rushed to get the vacuum to clean up the twinkling refinements. This is when i learned that glitter on a carpet isn't easy to just vacuum up. Not even with the power brush. It sticks to everything, and gets everywhere. The more I vacuumed the more and more sparkle I spotted. In the kitchen, through the hallway where my sister brushed away the synthetic dandruff, into the bathroom. It just didn't end. Half way down the hall with the vacuum, I heard the front door close with a slam. I continued to work, pretending not to hear my moms cluttering as she dropped her purse and went into the kitchen.
She called me into the kitchen moments later, showing me several missed areas. Her voice was calm, but clearly disappointed. I cleaned each spot, only to be directed to a new location moments later. Does glitter migrate? It sure seems so because it was even in the front hall way, and neither one of us went there while the decorating was going on. After 99% of it was picked up mom went back into the kitchen and met me in the hallway... spanking spoon in hand.
So many "Im sorry's" in a row didn't help. "But I cleaned up like i promised... i did what I promised!!" said in a cracking voice as tears of anxiety were building. "Lets go" mom said, and took me into my room. "You know very well this isn't about cleaning. This about being mean to your sister - again, and lying to me - again". She had me dead to rights, and I knew it. "I promise never to do it again...honest. This time i really really promise" I begged. No dice. Mom sat square on my desk chair and called me too her. She wasn't so much scolding this time but rather telling me how disappointed she was, which made me feel even worse.
This wasn't typical form for my mom. I thought I had her spanking routine memorized. This was new. She explained how my sister, being the middle sister, often felt left out of things and really hated when i teased her or made her feel less than worthy. Scolding would have honestly felt better. I felt guilt. The lecture continued as i was pulled over my moms lap and i felt my skirt raised. The first few spanks took my by surprise and wasn't able to swing my hand back fast enough to shield my stinging cheeks. Once it was there, it was held out of the way and mom landed about a dozen more spanks with the spanking spoon onto my non-protective panties. Then she stopped, and i heard the spanking spoon being placed on my desk. She continued to explain expectations as i lay crying over her lap. And reminded me of the consequences of being so mean to my sisters as she polished my stinging bottom with her hand, having a somewhat soothing effect.
I had thought it was all over, but again - bad assumption. I felt my dignity vanish as my underwear were being lowered for Spanking Part Duex. This was a long and methodical and almost rhythmic hand spanking that seemed to go on and on and on. She would pause at moments, only to continue to avenge my misdeed to Rachel moments later. A final pause, and the questions started. "Are we going to have this problem again little missy?" "Is it starting to get though that thick skull?" I could only evoke a "Yes" because talking and crying is damn near impossible without taking giant gasps of air. She completed my punishment with a finale of spanks that lasted another 20 or so seconds, and was finally allowed to get up.
I laid on my bed face down for another 20 minutes, then got up, washed my face and went into the kitchen where my mom was preparing dinner. We didn't say anything at first, but i started doing the dishes which was my daily chore. About 10 minutes into it, my mom said "thank you" and gave me a hug. I hugged her back tightly as she just shook her head.
A week later, with the glitter safely returned to the school, my shoes sealed and looking OH-So-Fabulous, trick or treat night finally arrived. It was on a weekend, which is always good. We could take our time and hit as many sub-divisions as possible to maximize our candy haul. We had dinner and dressed promptly into our new characters, ready to wow-the-world with our make-shift creations. From one sub division to the next, we collected so much candy that we had to dump it in separate bags in the car, always isolated from each others. When we got to the last sub division on our route, The Manors "at" Whispering woods, we were excited. This is where my friend Madi lived, and it was a richy neighborhood. Always good for treating.
We met up with my friend Madi and her mom on route and headed door to door collecting candy. One home even gave out 1/2 pints of milk instead of candy. The owner was also the owner of a dairy, so that made this house a mandatory stop. They had a choice, 2%, skim, or chocolate. I of course grabbed the chocolate, and Madi selected Skim. Not because she was concerned about fat content, or even flavor - but because pink is her favorite color, and skim milk comes in a pink container making it double the treat for her.
After we were done tricking and treating, we headed back to Madi's mansion. The two mom's of course took their place at the kitchen table, and my sisters, Madi and I were in the dining room sorting and counting and sampling our nights take. A great night all in all, i must say. A night which was about to be completely ruined.
I hadn't removed my bedazzled slippers when i came into the home. I was too excited to remember. Madi's mom was fast to notice Glitter tracks that lead back to my chair. She wasn't too upset, but she did ask them to be removed and put at the front door. Meanwhile, my mom apologized and then shared some embarrassing details about our glitter experience from the previous week. I know mom's talk, but its not cool to talk where others - like Madi - could hear. I was embarrassed myself when I overheard my mom mention the spanking word. I called into the kitchen to protest. "Moommm!!" I said with bug eyes and a tilted head, hoping she would take my not-so-subtle hint.
"You know you deserved that spanking kelly." Rachel offered to the discussion for everyone to hear. I was instantly upset and retaliated with what would be the meanest, most degrading thing I have ever said to my sister in mixed company. "Yea, well at least i don't wet the bed!".
I knew instantly that was a really stupid mistake. Rachel's face went directly from righteous, to red faced sorrow. And i was ashamed. I just let out a highly classified family secret in mixed company and I quickly apologized. Unfortunately, that apology wasn't enough as my mom heard it too, and yanked me into the adjacent room to have a talk.
I remember every word she said, and how she said it. I was petrified and told her I was sorry and i apologized even more immediately. Mom grabbed my face with one hand and squeezed my cheeks into my teeth. She spoke angrily with her upper and lower teeth stuck together. "I've had it with you. I have a good mind to spank you right here, right now. Is that what you want? Do you? Do you want to feel that humiliation?? Because that's exactly what you just did to your sister.. humiliate her!". Nothing I could say would matter, even if I could speak. Mom's last words were as true as the night was cold. And that's where she left it. She released my face in disgust, and walked out of the room. I stayed in the room for a little while, sulking. I was really sorry. It was a stupid thing to say. A horrid thing.
About 10 minutes later, Madi's mom came into the room and sat with me on the soft chair. "Everyone makes mistakes hunny." Lets go have some fun, and she led me back into the dining room.
We had cocoa, and i sat quietly recounting my collection of candy, occasionally having a conversation with Madi, who's discomfort was clearly written all over her face. After a while, everyone lightened up and had at least a little fun. We gathered our things and headed to the car. My little sister called shotgun, so i was in the back seat with Rachel. It didn't take but a minute for me to open up and give the most sincere apology I ever gave to anyone. We both cried a little, and when i looked up into the rear view mirror, i notice mom cried a little too.
When we got back home we all went into our rooms to remove our costumes and get ready for bed. Rachel came into my room while i was changing because she wanted to tell me something. The only words she spoke was a quiet "Thank you... dumb jerk!" Our smiles turned to giggles, and then more hugs. It was nice to be back home again as a family. Just my sisters, my mom and me. I guess Dorothy was right all along when she said there's no place like home.
This is where my story ends.
As a special note: It took a while to think and rethink about what memories I wanted to share on EP. I didn't want to write about yet-another spanking experience, but one that had more meaning to me. That was the last time i ever was so mean and so inappropriate to any of my sisters. Not even during our teen years when we had the typical teen-aged bouts would I ever sink so low. That's also when the frequency of my "lap time" reduced significantly. Sure I got the occasional spank from time to time, but usually for being stupid or lazy, never again for being so blatantly mean. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing and remembering it.
As always, if you enjoy reading my stories, please rate it, and give your honest feedback below.
Kelly
My two sisters and I always took great pride in our home-made costumes. Nothing store bought here. Our costumes had to come from our imagination. They needed to be functional, somewhat durable, nothing too daring or dangerous, and they needed to be warm. If they weren’t warm enough, mom would insist we spoil our crafted illusions with winter coats, defeating the purpose of dressing up and looking stupid in front of my un-coated trick-or-treating friends.
When I was 12, I decided to be Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. This decision seemed more practical and do-able then the annoying Glinda – the good witch, or very cool Bastinda, the Wicked Witch of the West. The bulk of my Dorothy costume was easily gathered weeks before the night of the Occult celebration. We found the perfect blue checkered dress at Goodwill, a white bib-type apron, warm white stockings, and our neighbor Mr. Hitchin’s added a real wooden flip-top to a basket that I used to collect my sugary taxes.
The only thing that was missing was Dorothy’s iconic ruby slippers. We looked hard for something that would be acceptable, and everywhere we looked we came up short. My mom spotted a pair of healed flats at a yard sale that were the right style and size, but they were black – not red. “Well, these will just have to do.” Mom said, giving up on our scavenger hunt. I didn’t care for that answer one bit. She said we could probably color them with red spray paint, or paste some kind of red paper or Mylar plastic too them. This was more encouraging, and then I suggesting something utterly obscene.
“I know!” I shouted excitedly. “How about red glitter!!?”
I can still see the look in my mom’s eyes the moment I used the “G” word. “Ahh…No! I don’t think so” , she responded and quickly tried to get me to accept her ideas instead. Pressing my brilliant idea more – as I was often known to do – she gave the traditional money excuse, to which there is no reasonable reply.
“I’m not spending good money on something that won’t last more than 10 minutes! ”
I counter-attacked with a barrage of heart-felt Please’s and even gave her a heavy dose of sugar eyes. Nothing. Can you imagine? Even the ultimately attractive “Pretty please?? ” didn’t crack her firm decision. (Has this ever worked? I mean, for anyone?) Soon her elevated and harsh tone was my queue to back down.
You see, my mother had a real dislike of glitter. I’m not sure what sparkly trauma she had suffered. Perhaps she was abducted by fairies at some point and glitter invokes bad memories, i can't be sure. But it was clearly something significant and life altering.
Any toys that my sisters or I ever received that had glitter on them were immediately taken from their new packaging and shook with a vengeance over a garbage bag to release any loose glistening particulate the best she could. Glitter was removed from brand new Arts and Crafts sets before we received them and replaced instead with colorful beads, or in some cases, small dried pasta pieces. So this whole “no glitter” thing was nothing new to me, but that still didn’t mean I had to accept it.
Mr. Hitchins later proved his handyman skills once again and painted the shoes red. But they didn’t sparkle, or glisten, or even shine. Just plain flat, boring, OMG! I’m going to get laughed at, red.
While sitting in Art class at school a few days later, I developed cunning plan. I would “borrow” some glitter from school, and then once I got home would decorate my costume shoes, all before mom got home at 5:30. I could clean up, and everything would be perfect. My mom wouldn’t have to buy glitter, and I had the shoes I wanted.
After class ended, I asked my teacher Mr. Peirce if I could borrow some red glitter. I explained my dilemma and the challenges I was facing creating my movie-quality Dorothy costume, and how my mom didn’t want to buy any because of money troubles. He was a little reluctant at first, but gave in and we walked to the art supply closet. He handed me a half-empty bottle of “Modge Podge”, a popular craft adhesive and sealant, and reached for a box of glitter. He stammered a bit holding the 6”x6” unopened box, unsure if he truly wanted to commit. “Do you promise to bring back what you don’t use?” I promised, and he handed me the one-pound box of ruby red glitter.
I don’t think many people realize how much glitter makes up a full pound – but trust me – a 6x6 box of compressed bulk glitter is A LOT of flippin glitter!!
After getting off the bus, I raced home to put my plan into action. I dutifully covered the kitchen table with old newspapers, even taping down the edges. Moved the chairs to the side, and went to work. I spread a generous amount of Modge Podge on the shoes and using a ¼ cup measuring spoon, I doused the shoes with so much sparkle that even the great and powerful Oz himself would be impressed. I let it dry for a bit and was getting a snack when my middle sister Rachel came home. Excited to see the twinkling craft, she wanted to do something with glitter too. This was a first in the house, so I felt it fair that she could also exploit this opportunity.
Using a few cookie cutters, she traced out designs onto cardboard from an old cereal box and cut out her shapes which she wanted to coat with glitter and make a necklace for herself. When It came time to apply the glitter, I came over and was about to dump a partially filled measuring cup onto her craft. “No!! I Wanna do it!” my sister shouted, pushing my hand away and reached for a spoon herself. Put off by her ungrateful reaction, I stood up holding still holding the glitter-filled measuring cup in my hand.
To this day, I don’t know why I did it, but instead of walking away, I secretly dumped half of the cup of glitter into a little pile on the top of her head. She continued to work tirelessly on her ornaments and with no clue about what I did. I giggled every time she moved and wiped away any glitter that would fall across her cheeks, completely unaware about how or why it got there. And then my Mom and youngest sister came walking in the door, much EARLIER than expected!
My youngest sister was the first into the kitchen. “AWWWW!!, What are you doing? Can I do something too?”, followed by my Mom who stood stunned in the kitchen door unable to find the words.
After a few very tense moments… “What??” I finally broke the ice. “I asked Mr. Pierce and he let me borrow the glitter to do my shoes. I PROMISE to clean everything up. PROMISE!” I said. Followed by “ Don’t Worry! OK?”
She was reluctant to reply. Her mouth was drawn tight into a crooked kiss as she walked slowly around kitchen table, looking for something, anything, to be really upset about. After a few moments, she let down her guard and told me, “Ok, it looks like you’re done… Now, clean it up and I don’t want to see ANY glitter anywhere. Do I make myself clear?” I agreed. And she told me that I should ask her BEFORE borrowing things from others, especially if they are from school. I again agreed, somewhat relieved.
She turned to my sisters and told run and get ready for Brownies. That’s when it occurred to me why she was home so early. My sisters had a Brownie meeting. Rachelle placed her red medallions carefully on a paper towel to dry and walked out of the kitchen, right past my mom who looked down and spotted the now em
“What the… .. WHY ON EARTH???... HOW did you get glitter in your hair Rachelle?” Mom asked as she inhaled more and more deeply.
Rachelle didn’t know what she meant, and bent over and brushed her hair forward…sending a shower of glitter raining down onto the hallway carpet. “KELLY!!! You STUPID FACE!!”, Rachel’s favorite vulgar ex
Mom didn’t say a word and once my sisters were ready to go, they left without any announcement, just a slam of the front door. I knew this would give me 20 minutes to get things spik and span again, because my tummy was in knots. I knew what was coming. My mom knew what was coming, and yy sisters both knew what was coming. And I had a very good idea WHEN it would come.
Quickly I went to work cleaning up the kitchen. The box of glitter which looked unused was repacked and the lids taped tightly. I folded up the newspaper and tossed it. The table was wiped down, and the floor was next. How so much glitter ended up on the floor is somewhat of a mystery. We were fairly careful about that, and my only guess is came off the top of my sisters head. I rushed to get the vacuum to clean up the twinkling refinements. This is when i learned that glitter on a carpet isn't easy to just vacuum up. Not even with the power brush. It sticks to everything, and gets everywhere. The more I vacuumed the more and more sparkle I spotted. In the kitchen, through the hallway where my sister brushed away the synthetic dandruff, into the bathroom. It just didn't end. Half way down the hall with the vacuum, I heard the front door close with a slam. I continued to work, pretending not to hear my moms cluttering as she dropped her purse and went into the kitchen.
She called me into the kitchen moments later, showing me several missed areas. Her voice was calm, but clearly disappointed. I cleaned each spot, only to be directed to a new location moments later. Does glitter migrate? It sure seems so because it was even in the front hall way, and neither one of us went there while the decorating was going on. After 99% of it was picked up mom went back into the kitchen and met me in the hallway... spanking spoon in hand.
So many "Im sorry's" in a row didn't help. "But I cleaned up like i promised... i did what I promised!!" said in a cracking voice as tears of anxiety were building. "Lets go" mom said, and took me into my room. "You know very well this isn't about cleaning. This about being mean to your sister - again, and lying to me - again". She had me dead to rights, and I knew it. "I promise never to do it again...honest. This time i really really promise" I begged. No dice. Mom sat square on my desk chair and called me too her. She wasn't so much scolding this time but rather telling me how disappointed she was, which made me feel even worse.
This wasn't typical form for my mom. I thought I had her spanking routine memorized. This was new. She explained how my sister, being the middle sister, often felt left out of things and really hated when i teased her or made her feel less than worthy. Scolding would have honestly felt better. I felt guilt. The lecture continued as i was pulled over my moms lap and i felt my skirt raised. The first few spanks took my by surprise and wasn't able to swing my hand back fast enough to shield my stinging cheeks. Once it was there, it was held out of the way and mom landed about a dozen more spanks with the spanking spoon onto my non-protective panties. Then she stopped, and i heard the spanking spoon being placed on my desk. She continued to explain expectations as i lay crying over her lap. And reminded me of the consequences of being so mean to my sisters as she polished my stinging bottom with her hand, having a somewhat soothing effect.
I had thought it was all over, but again - bad assumption. I felt my dignity vanish as my underwear were being lowered for Spanking Part Duex. This was a long and methodical and almost rhythmic hand spanking that seemed to go on and on and on. She would pause at moments, only to continue to avenge my misdeed to Rachel moments later. A final pause, and the questions started. "Are we going to have this problem again little missy?" "Is it starting to get though that thick skull?" I could only evoke a "Yes" because talking and crying is damn near impossible without taking giant gasps of air. She completed my punishment with a finale of spanks that lasted another 20 or so seconds, and was finally allowed to get up.
I laid on my bed face down for another 20 minutes, then got up, washed my face and went into the kitchen where my mom was preparing dinner. We didn't say anything at first, but i started doing the dishes which was my daily chore. About 10 minutes into it, my mom said "thank you" and gave me a hug. I hugged her back tightly as she just shook her head.
A week later, with the glitter safely returned to the school, my shoes sealed and looking OH-So-Fabulous, trick or treat night finally arrived. It was on a weekend, which is always good. We could take our time and hit as many sub-divisions as possible to maximize our candy haul. We had dinner and dressed promptly into our new characters, ready to wow-the-world with our make-shift creations. From one sub division to the next, we collected so much candy that we had to dump it in separate bags in the car, always isolated from each others. When we got to the last sub division on our route, The Manors "at" Whispering woods, we were excited. This is where my friend Madi lived, and it was a richy neighborhood. Always good for treating.
We met up with my friend Madi and her mom on route and headed door to door collecting candy. One home even gave out 1/2 pints of milk instead of candy. The owner was also the owner of a dairy, so that made this house a mandatory stop. They had a choice, 2%, skim, or chocolate. I of course grabbed the chocolate, and Madi selected Skim. Not because she was concerned about fat content, or even flavor - but because pink is her favorite color, and skim milk comes in a pink container making it double the treat for her.
After we were done tricking and treating, we headed back to Madi's mansion. The two mom's of course took their place at the kitchen table, and my sisters, Madi and I were in the dining room sorting and counting and sampling our nights take. A great night all in all, i must say. A night which was about to be completely ruined.
I hadn't removed my bedazzled slippers when i came into the home. I was too excited to remember. Madi's mom was fast to notice Glitter tracks that lead back to my chair. She wasn't too upset, but she did ask them to be removed and put at the front door. Meanwhile, my mom apologized and then shared some embarrassing details about our glitter experience from the previous week. I know mom's talk, but its not cool to talk where others - like Madi - could hear. I was embarrassed myself when I overheard my mom mention the spanking word. I called into the kitchen to protest. "Moommm!!" I said with bug eyes and a tilted head, hoping she would take my not-so-subtle hint.
"You know you deserved that spanking kelly." Rachel offered to the discussion for everyone to hear. I was instantly upset and retaliated with what would be the meanest, most degrading thing I have ever said to my sister in mixed company. "Yea, well at least i don't wet the bed!".
I knew instantly that was a really stupid mistake. Rachel's face went directly from righteous, to red faced sorrow. And i was ashamed. I just let out a highly classified family secret in mixed company and I quickly apologized. Unfortunately, that apology wasn't enough as my mom heard it too, and yanked me into the adjacent room to have a talk.
I remember every word she said, and how she said it. I was petrified and told her I was sorry and i apologized even more immediately. Mom grabbed my face with one hand and squeezed my cheeks into my teeth. She spoke angrily with her upper and lower teeth stuck together. "I've had it with you. I have a good mind to spank you right here, right now. Is that what you want? Do you? Do you want to feel that humiliation?? Because that's exactly what you just did to your sister.. humiliate her!". Nothing I could say would matter, even if I could speak. Mom's last words were as true as the night was cold. And that's where she left it. She released my face in disgust, and walked out of the room. I stayed in the room for a little while, sulking. I was really sorry. It was a stupid thing to say. A horrid thing.
About 10 minutes later, Madi's mom came into the room and sat with me on the soft chair. "Everyone makes mistakes hunny." Lets go have some fun, and she led me back into the dining room.
We had cocoa, and i sat quietly recounting my collection of candy, occasionally having a conversation with Madi, who's discomfort was clearly written all over her face. After a while, everyone lightened up and had at least a little fun. We gathered our things and headed to the car. My little sister called shotgun, so i was in the back seat with Rachel. It didn't take but a minute for me to open up and give the most sincere apology I ever gave to anyone. We both cried a little, and when i looked up into the rear view mirror, i notice mom cried a little too.
When we got back home we all went into our rooms to remove our costumes and get ready for bed. Rachel came into my room while i was changing because she wanted to tell me something. The only words she spoke was a quiet "Thank you... dumb jerk!" Our smiles turned to giggles, and then more hugs. It was nice to be back home again as a family. Just my sisters, my mom and me. I guess Dorothy was right all along when she said there's no place like home.
This is where my story ends.
As a special note: It took a while to think and rethink about what memories I wanted to share on EP. I didn't want to write about yet-another spanking experience, but one that had more meaning to me. That was the last time i ever was so mean and so inappropriate to any of my sisters. Not even during our teen years when we had the typical teen-aged bouts would I ever sink so low. That's also when the frequency of my "lap time" reduced significantly. Sure I got the occasional spank from time to time, but usually for being stupid or lazy, never again for being so blatantly mean. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing and remembering it.
As always, if you enjoy reading my stories, please rate it, and give your honest feedback below.
Kelly
By:
kellysimon
Age:
22-25
,
Female
