I thought I would share the kind of punishments I received when I was growing up and try to explain how, at some point, when I was very young, the always painful and extremely humiliating experience of having my bottom smacked and the associated wetting of my knickers, began to excite me sexually, started me ************ and eventually caused me to provoke a spanking at every possible opportunity! When I was disciplined at home, it was the stinging, tingly aftermath that got me horny, almost never the punishment itself, although that did happen sometimes. There's nothing quite like the feeling of soaking wet cotton knickers, clinging to my hot, smacked bottom, to make me want top rub myself off. During other punishments, mainly at school at the hands of a wickedly lovely PE Mistress, I always got very turned on during the actual punishment and, in fact I would often ****** over her lap as she held me down and smacked my writhing bottom.
Home is probably where I should start. I grew up on a council estate in South East England during the 1980's. Anyone that says corporal punishment had disappeared by then is very, very wrong! Even in schools the PE Master and Mistress usually kept a slipper for ad hoc punishments of boys and girls respectively and in households like ours, spanking and the occasional belting were still the norm. Our next door neighbour, a teacher in fact, even had a cane which he thrashed his boy with. I used to hear him being punished through my bedroom wall, his being right next to mine and I once actually saw him being caned. I was the youngest of three children, my sister Caroline a year older and my brother Danny a years older than her. All of us got frequent good hidings and thoroughly deserved every one of them.
Friday night after 7pm was belting night. Dad worked away a lot but was usually home on Friday afternoon so one of the first things Mum made him do was listen to everything we had done that week that she thought deserved punishment. And then he punished us, one by one, in our bedrooms and ******** to just our knickers or in Danny's case completely naked. Except for me, I was punished in the bathroom for reasons that will become obvious but otherwise it was "Go to your room Tara and undress, I'll be up to punish you in a minute and if you're not stood there in your knickers, I'll take my belt to your bottom!".
We were only ever punished in front of each other if we did something so bad that Mum or Dad thought we needed to be punished almost there and then. I never saw Danny get spanked although of course I heard plenty. My sister only got punished in front of all of us once, she was brought home by the police having been caught shoplifting. Mum went next door and borrowed Mr Wilson's cane and Dad gave her such a beating, right there in the front room! Mum pulled her knickers down too so she got it on her bare bottom. I however always seemed to be the one ******** to her knickers in the living room or, worse, having her skirt pulled up and her bottom smacked in semi-public!
So on a normal Friday night and almost every Friday night from the age of twelve to seventeen, I would be dragged from my bedroom, wearing just my little cotton knickers, along the landing to the bathroom, made to stand in the bath and bend over, with my hands on the taps for added discomfort. Dad never bothered shouting or lecturing us as Mum spent most of the week doing that, he just spanked us.
"You know I'm going to smack your bottom Tara, don't you?"
"And you know you deserve a good hiding girl, don't you?"
"Right. Bend over Tara".
was about as far as the conversation went.
Even at twelve I was a pretty big and curvy girl with large breasts which would swing and jiggle about underneath me. I remember my nipples always got hard when I was smacked and I didn't know why. I had developed a liking for my little cotton knickers, especially how they rubbed my rosebud **** and pulled up between my bottom when they were a bit too small for me. I started to wear the same pair for days at a time, fascinated at the stains that accumulated and their smell. This has never changed, I still love my cotton knickers, I still wear them too small and I still ********** with them pulled tight up between my bottom cheeks. And I still wear them for too long!
So for my first proper punishment. Up to that point I had of course received individual, sometimes two or three pretty hard smacks to my bottom or upper thighs, the shock and the impact and the sting always causing me to wee a little bit into my knickers. My birthday happened to fall on a Friday and I had of course seen and heard what happened to my elder brother and sister on Fridays, so I was really not looking forward to my birthday, especially as I had been really cheeky to my Mum earlier in the week. I knew what I was in for and, sure enough at 7pm, Mum told me to go to my room, undress to my knickers and Dad would be up to punish me shortly. "You're a big girl now," she said "big enough to get a proper good hiding every time you deserve it, now get upstairs young lady!" I was already sobbing as I ran upstairs and I felt so weak and vulnerable as I ******** off my school uniform of white knee socks, white blouse, tiny black skirt and my bulging white vest. Standing naked but for my little white knickers I felt so humiliated when Dad came into my room.
I remember he wasn't unkind and smiled as he sat down on my bed and said "you know what comes next Tara, I'm going to smack your bottom properly, now lay across my lap." Doing so immediately I felt my bottom shivering under its skimpy cotton protection, my nipples hardening inexplicably. He smacked me for about 5 minutes I suppose, with me wriggling and writhing as this burning heat built up, seemingly inside my soft bottom cheeks. I'm sure the whole street could hear my crying, I knew the boy next door could as his bedroom adjoined mine and I heard all his beatings as clear as day. I thought the pain was becoming unbearable when suddenly it stopped. First wondering why, I realised to my horror that I was peeing! Not little spurts but an entire flood that I couldn't stop, soaking my knickers, my Dad's lap and the bed underneath him. I knew he was angry now as the smacking re-started and it was twice as ferocious as before, my bottom now burning and seemingly swollen to twice its size.
As the wet stain spread up the back of my cotton knickers from the soaking gusset I think the smacks hurt more over the wet material. After how long I don't know, the smacking stopped and I felt myself lifted onto my bed. I was told I was to spend the rest of the night in my wet bed and, as a further punishment for wetting myself, I wasn't to change my knickers until the morning. After a while my sobbing subsided and the pain in my bottom ebbed to a hot, stingy, prickly sensation, which rapidly spread between my legs, until I couldn'y help but start touching myself there. The exquisite feeling as , for the very first time, I rubbed my little button, had me writhing about on the bed, thrusting my bottom into the air and trying not to cry out. After only a few minutes rubbing, I felt this warm, wet flood between my legs and I thought I had wet myself again when this shattering wave of extacy ran through my whole body.
I remember I didn't really know what had happened to me but the muffled noises I was making, trying desperately to be quiet, I had heard coming from my sisters bedroom before, after which she would come out with a smile on her face and big, glassy eyes, padding to the bathroom. When I examined her dirty knickers in the wash basket later, as I had got into the habit of doing, I noticed the cotton crotch was really sticky and smelled really strong, that smell causing my nipples to harden and my little button to swell. So the next day when Caroline asked how I was and how I had taken my punishment, I told her what I had done afterwards and how I had felt. I was expecting her to laugh at me but she didn't, she kindly explained that touching myself was quite natural, nothing to be ashamed of and that she did it very often, especially after getting her bottom smacked, as it took her mind off the pain. Obviously with me it was very different, the throbbing pain in my bottom and the thought of having been smacked for being a naughty girl, actually caused me to want to touch myself. I didn't tell Caroline that though.
My bottom was still a bit swollen and tender the next day and it was a struggle to pull my little knickers off, wedged as they were between my bottom cheeks. I still remember how filthy they were, pee-stained and sticky I didn't know I could make my own knickers that dirty!
So that's what started it for me with spanking and from then until age seventeen, not many Friday nights went past without a very sore and extremely horny Tara, smacked or belted bottom in the air, face down on my bed rubbing myself off through my dirty wet knickers.