Scarlet, Black, And Blue

This is a personal story about one of my strongest memories of a spanking. The result was quite...colorful, hence the title. I hope that none of you experienced a spanking quite like this one, because this one just absolutely scarred me.

I recieved my spanking on report card day. It was half-a-day at school because parents had to go visit the teachers and talk briefly with them, about their children, and recieve our report cards. Anyway, a week before in school, I had a little argument with my teacher, just a minor one, and I remember the teacher saying, "don't talk back", and I said, "Well, that's how communication works". She gave me 2 days of detention, no biggy, my mom didn't find out.

So, on that day, I felt fine, just a tad bit worried about my science grade. My mom went to the conference and came home around 6:00, it was already dark. My 3 siblings rushed to my mom, excited, saying, "Ooo let me see my report card! What did my teacher say about me?!" Stuff like that.

My mom looked silently furious. She was tight lipped and her eyes were cold. Reaching into her bag, mom pulled out 4 report cards, and gave them to each of us. "Good job, honey", that's what she said to all of my siblings.

Then her eyes set on mine, dark brown with tiny pupils; she was tired I guess. "You're getting a spanking." She informed me. Mom was one to get to the point. "Johnathan!" She called to Dad, who was in the kitchen, "Abigail's getting a spanking. Get that black belt."

"That black belt" was a thick, leather black belt with a heavy silver buckle, used only on extreme conditions. I've gotten it 3 times, but never as hard as this time.

I heard my dad stand up, shuffle close his newspaper, and watched him walk in front of me, black belt in hand.

I was trembling violently. My mouth was twisting around, trying not to cry in front of my siblings, who were knowingly regarding me. I felt weak and heavy at the same time, the horrors were awaiting me.

My mom, report card in hand, yanked my arm and dragged me up 2 flights of stairs, into the attic, my dad at tow. I was sobbing by then, and my mom snapped, "why are you crying? We should be the ones crying, you disappointed us!"

Only someone who had gotten spanned before knows the dread I was feeling.

The attic was brightly lit, with a large window in opposite the door. It wasn't a finished attic, but it didn't look like junk. My dad locked the door behind us and I banged into the while reality of the situation. 2 adults against one 11 year old.

"Take off your pants and underwear", my mom commanded harshly.

I shakingly did as told, I remember the cold wooden floor on my bare feet, the peaked walls 3 feet above me, my Hollister jeans (I loved them).

"Now, you are getting a spanking because Ms. Kovacs gave an alarming report on your behavior, and you got a 73 in Science." She told me.

"Bend over the chair." Dad coldly told me.

There was a little green painted metal chair in the attic, I have never had to get a spanking like this, usually they were over the knee, but always bare bottom.

I hesitantly bent over the chair, I felt so awkward and exposed. Mom proceeded to bind my legs to one end of the chair, my arms to the other, with actual ROPE.

"W-what are you doing?" I sobbed, unintelligibly.

"So you won't move around."

I was prepared for my spanking, according to my mother. My dad snapped the light of, shut the window, and closed the curtain.

"How many spankings am I getting?" I asked cautiously. Once, when I asked this, I got double the amount.

"500. 250 from dad, 250 from me."

I boggled over that number. Half of a thousand. Oh my God. Dear lord, save me, I prayed. Please, I silently begged. I was sobbing already uncontrollably, now I started to make weird, seizure-like movements, I felt like a captive.

"Let me go", I whimpered.

My dad went first. I remember the millisecond before the belt hit, looking down at my chipped blue pedicure, warm, stuffy air bringing beads of sweat to my skin, my parents, tall and leering.

The thick leather, swung down and made contact with my skin.

A shrieky, girly yelp escaped my mouth. My mom started counting.

My dad brought down blows on my tender butt flesh so hard that the belt snapped in the air, and snapped even louder against my skin. I was screaming, oh yes. Cry, scream, cry scream, wiggle my butt. Every time I got whipped, my butt went on FIRE, crackling and burning, the welts engraved in my skin.

"STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!!!!" I let out ragged cries, hoping my siblings would save my somehow.

Snot leaked freely from my nose, I felt disgusting. The strikes kept falling one after the other. My dad started alternating the areas. More inbetween my cheeks, a bit on my legs, on my thighs.

My screams shocked me; they were the screams of a person getting murdered, not spanked.

"248...CRACK!...249....CRACK!... 250...."

"OWWWW!!!!" I shrieked. My dad delivered that one with the force of an elite batter hitting a baseball in a championship. I cried and fussed uncontrollably.

"I GET THE POINT!!!!! I LEARNED MY LESSON!!!!!! PLEASE STOP!!!!!"

My dad set the belt on a little table in the attic, looking pleased with himself. Mom immediately took charge; untying the ropes around my ankles and wrists.

I breathed a sigh of relief, my mom wasn't going to give me a spanking, however I was still tense. I felt wilted, like a flower with no sun or water. But I was soggy, though, damp with sweat and tears, my welts burning, they were on FIRE.

"Get UP," mom ordered.

I shakily got to my feet, stretching my limbs in pain.

She proceeded to sit down on the old chair and roughly pull me into her lap. Mom stopped, though.

"We're going into the living room, chair is more comfortable."

We left that awful little attic, cool air hit every part of my body as I walked out. Apparently, my siblings were right outside the door...

They were sobbing at my welfare.

"Quiet! She deserves this!" Mom snapped.

"SCRAM." Dad bellowed.

They quickly scurried away, scared of them.

Mom settled into the leathe recliner chair. She dragged me onto her lap, positioning me until it fit her comfort and my pain.

Her hand raised, and came down. SMACK! on my already scarlet bottom. This is child abuse, I thought darkly.

"STOP IT, OR I'M REPORTING CHILD ABUSE!!" I yelled.

My mom turned vicious; she was a pitbull now. (Sorry, no offense to pitbulls, but that's what I was thinking when I was getting that spanking).

She snarled, "THE HELL YOU AREN'T. Johnathan, bring me the hairbrush!"

Dad promptly retuned with a brush with sharp white bristles. She laid that across my bottom; I was out. I felt kind of dazed, the pain offered a new definition to the word, "pain". My butt suddenly began too numb to register pain. It felt better, in a way. The last 90 smacks flew by, however the last 10 caused me to hold my breath.

Mom grunted and siezed me off my lap.

"I hope I don't have to give you another spanking like that."

"As do I, it's tiring."

"Stand in the corner", mom instructed, "do not move or touch your ***."

I obeyed, taking weak, dizzy steps toward the corner as though I hadn't walked on land forever.

Standing there for 5 minutes, I accidentally touched my stinging butt, mom noticed. She squirted a dollop of hand sanitizer into her hand, marched over, and violently rubbed it across my bottom.

My eyes widened. Hoover Dam just broke, the thousand gallons of water it was restraining lured through my eyes. I gave out hourse sobs, my body aching; I wanted to die. The hand sanitizer enflamed my sorry welts.

After 45 minutes, my mom commanded me to go to my room.

Instead, I lumbered into the bathroom, my siblings skittering in my way, asking me so many questions! They were bawling their eyes out, saying they couldn't help me. I understood, they were all below 7, how could they help?

I locked the bathroom door and gaped at my appearance, my skin was an oily, hair disarrayed, my butt and thighs were RED RED RED, mottled with spots of black and midnight blue.

I dissolved into tears, ashamed by my appearance. After a FREEZING cold shower, I climbed under my sheets and all I felt was hatred toward my parents. Perhaps I deserved a spanking. Just not like that.

This was a highly personal account of my hardships. Please, if you encounter something similar to this, report child abuse, like I did.


AyoAbby AyoAbby
22-25, F
11 Responses Dec 2, 2012

I'm so sorry that they physically abused you like that. That was so unjust. Discipline is one thing abuse is another. It's sad when you have to be afraid and the very people who are suppose to be there for you, to give you support, protect you, and love you hurt you like that. I wish you the best of luck, AyoAbby.

I hate your parents. They deserve to roast in hell.

Nothing more arousing to the parents than whipping a bare bottom. They just can't get enough of the pleasure so they whip more.

I believe kids should be certain things, but what you got was not a spanking, it was 100% child abuse. Good for you reporting your parents for child abuse.

That is so cruel - I hope you are in a better place now?

I get spanked and rather often, to be pretty honest, and I'm pretty accepting of that because I deserve them. And they hurt like a ***** but they're never anything like that. Damn, girl, that's quite something, to say the least.

What happened when you reported them? ?

I'm so sorry about your experience. I can't even begin to imagine what you went through. I don't care what you had done no one deserves that kind of treatment. I am so glade you were able to get you and your siblings free. You are truly brave for reporting what they did to you.

I am fully and utterly against spanking - my mother and father likely only had a brief phase of it and I barely remember it, except for one time my mom was seriously mad and slapped me across the face when I was fourteen. One of the things I have quietly never forgiven her for, but she's a complete and utter angel compared to your mother. Dear Gods...
I am so glad you reported it. People like that... I don't understand how people can hurt their children. I only hope that if you have a family, or will have a family someday, it will be a happy and kind one, to help make up for what you've suffered.
*shiver* Although, as I've established, I've never been beaten, belts creep me out and I refuse to wear them - and my sister, who likes them, has a favorite black and silver one I especially dislike. Weird coincidence.
Wherever you're at now, I hope you're doing better, honey.

Thank you! :) I currently don't communicate with my parents in any way, and they just got out of jail. I always talk to my siblings though, and I have a wonderful boyfriend, life is pretty good. You can never quite forgive anyone who smacked you. What a coincidence, I myself don't wear belts either.

No child deserves a spanking of any kind, if a child misbehaves it´s because the parents have failed to guide them.
I feel sorry for you and every child who have abusive parents,
Violence does not get better behavior, only more violence!

I agree 100%.

Definetly child abuse. I sure hope none of your siblings ever got a spanking like that.

No, they didn't, and I was happy, because I loved my sisters and brothers, I didn't want them to experience that.