Spanked At Church
When I was a young boy, growing up in what I thought was a very normal farm family in Kansas in the 1950's almost every child, sooner or later was spanked at church. Our rural church was an important center of our family life both for our nuclear family and our extended family. When my sister, one of my cousins, one of our friends, or when I misbehaved at church we weren't warned and taken home. A parent simply took us outside; most often around to a bench in the churchyard, bared our bottom and spanked as necessary. This was not seen as an event to be remarked upon but simply a common occurance of everyday family life in the greater church family. The misbehaving child was quietly, or not so quietly escorted or carried from the church building or event. The spanking was administered as the parent saw fit. When the child was quiet and ready to behave, albeit frequently rubbing an assaulted bottom, the parent and the child quietly came back into the event. The same was true for older children and young teens, and occasionally for older teen girls who particularly angered their mothers with their flirting or gossiping. That did happen once to my younger sister when she was sixteen, I was told, even though I was away at university and did not witness the event. Mother said she made my sister kick and cry with her hairbrush just as when my sister had been five.
The spanking at church that I particularly remember happened the spring that I had turned thirteen and my cousin, who was soon to turn twelve, and on whom I had a mutual crush had walked away from a church picnic and into a woods beyond the churchyard. While we did nothing but hold hands and gaze into each other's eyes and talk about school we were caught by her older sister who had been sent looking for us. This was farm country and our fathers had gone fishing after their meal so it was up to our mothers to determine our fate. My mother reached into her purse and pulled out her hairbrush and I knew there was no use in protesting. I just followed her to the bench and let her unfasten my belt and take down my pants even though my cousins and friends were watching. My mother pulled me across her knees, but before she started spanking she started scolding. She told me how embarassed she was that I was doing "things like that" with my cousin, and that "everyone could see". She also told me that she was going to spank me harder than she had ever spanked me before so I would never want to "embarass her like that again." Then she said it was time for me to be embarassed as much as she was and she pulled down my underpants and waved to my aunt.
Mother still didn't start spanking me but held me over her knees with my bottom bare and my face red while my aunt brought my cousin over to the bench, pulled her into a similar position, lifted her skirt, lowered her panties and scolded her. There we were, face to face, helpless, embarassed, bared and not wanting at all to be there. My aunt got out her hairbrush and the spankings started. We both got somewhere between thirty and fifty hard spanks and we both howled like babies. We were redressed and sent to separate cars to sit on our sore bottoms until we were done crying then we were required to stay close by our mother's sides for the rest of the afternoon. I was terribly worried that I would get a dose of my father's belt when got home and heard the story but he came to my room told me that since my cousin wasn't getting spanked again, neither would I.
I didn't talk with my cousin about this incident until we were both adults and could both laugh about it without being too embaressed. For her it was just a spanking along the way of life. She got many of them and some that were more severe but none that she remembered as more embaressing. For me this church spanking was somthing else. Although it hurt like fire at the time, and was way beyond embarassing to a thirteen year old ego, it was probably the sealing event in my live long love of spanking and being spanked. Well, may your bottoms be warm and red.