Well Deserved SlipperingOnce when I was about fifteen my mother had caught me trying to smoke weed.
Me and three of my friends were in the backyard and we didn't expect my mom to get back from work for a good while. One of my friends had bought a bunch of joints. She showed us them so we went in the house and I lit up the first one.
I took one huge inhale of it and it made me cough, but it also made my head kind of light. It was weird. So I told my friend I didn't really like it so I gave her back the partially smoked joint. I just sat there and laughed because my friends were so high and they we just saying the strangest things. I didn't want one. I wanted to remember how they acted, even if they seemed to like it.
Probably only a half hour later my mom showed up. She'd come home early. She saw my friends high as the hills and ordered them to get out. They left really quickly, it was easy to tell she was pissed. You could practically see steam coming out of her ears.
As soon as they were gone she started screaming at me. It was really bad. She was so mad. It scared me. I knew I was going to get it. My parents beat me often for the simplest things. Like a D on a test I'd probably get a mild spanking from my dad, nothing severe for the small stuff, but bad enough that I wouldn't do it again. And yes, even as a teenager I still got over the knee spankings. But I was going to get it, I was going to get it good.
My mom yelled at me for probably a good twenty minutes about the dangers of smoking. Then she yelled at me about how smoking weed was worse and how I could get addicted. I didn't bother to tell her I didn't do any. It would've made her angrier. After a while she calmed down some and went to the closet where they kept the different things to beat me with. They had a lot of different things. They were firm believer's in corporal punishment, and honestly I think it worked. After a while she produced a large slipper that they kept for only the purpose of punishing me. It was far too big to fit even my father. She pulled the beating stool, a heavy wooden stool they kept for only punishments, in to the living room and placed it in front of the front room window like she always did and drew the blinds so the neighbors could see my shame.
She directed me to lean over the stool and I did obetiantly. I expected her to tell me the number of strokes and then slap away, but then she pulled my pants down, revealing the lacy underwear that I was not allowed to have, which rewarded me three more strokes. Then she pulled those down too.
I was so nervous I was shaking. I'd felt the pain of my mother's slipper before with jeans on, and damn, did that ever hurt. But now I was about to feel it without even the protection of lacy panties.
"You're going to get fifteen strokes, though you deserve far more for being such a naughty girl," she told me. I heard the noise of the slipper flinging through the air then the slap of it against my skin. It HURT. My bottom was stinging severly, and it was only the first of fifteen! By the fifth one I was bawling. I started screaming and squirming, which earned my five extra strokes.
By the time my mother was done I was sure my butt was beet red. It was hot as hell and stung terribly.
"That was a very severe punishment, but you deserved it. Go up to your room, now. I'm going to call your father and make sure you get a severe belting when he gets home too. You're not going to be able to sit down for days when he's done with you," she said. I went up to my room and when father got home he came upstairs to my room, talked to me about smoking, told me about the leathering I was going to get. He was wearing his thick leather belt that he wore when he was going to give me a good hyde tanning.
My bottom was sore for a solid week. But I must say I deserved that beating. It hurt like hell, but I never did it again. If I ever did it again I'd probably hand my *** over to my father and get another good licking.