Reservations

In all honesty, I do have some serious reservations about stories related to being spanked as a child. Primarily because they frequently relate to adult fantasies, rather than true experiences.
On the other hand, I do believe that true stories could serve a very real, and desperately needed reference to counterbalance the avalanche of negative press given to spanking. In my country (Netherlands), spanking is now prohibited by law. But it wasn't when I was young. And though I truly, and sincerely support all attempts to ban abuse, I still feel that spanking may be the better option for some. If not most. If certain conditions are met. Yet I recognize that there are, and always will be, minors who will regard even a single slap on the butt as a major form of abuse. While others, though they will benefit, would be better off with different forms of punishment. Under all circumstances, breaking the law should not be an option, unless in an emergency.

Since this is about stories, and not about lectures, I'll share my personal experience on one occasion, offering my comments to give you an impression of my thoughts, then and now.

At age 11, my grandparents gave me the tiniest pocket-knife you've ever seen. My mom was not thrilled by the prospect of allowing me to take my 'knife' out of the house, and told me to leave it inside whenever I went out. This actually increased the thrill of being 'armed'. And not only did I take it out anyway, I also managed to 'show' it to some rather nasty girls in my class, to impress them. I didn't really threaten them, nor was this ridiculously small 'blade' something to be frightened of. But those girls felt they desperately needed to see my mom about it, and rat on me.
From the moment they broke the story to my mom, I knew I was in trouble. Serious trouble! Instantly, I felt exceedingly guilty. And my mom had no trouble believing them. She told them she would deal with it, and closed the door.
She turned around, led me into my room, and told me to drop my shorts and briefs, since she was going to spank my bare butt until I couldn't sit anymore!
Now, spankings were not really common in our home. Less so the kind of spanking she had in mind. Yet I didn't even consider opposing her. Instead, like I said, I felt guilt raging through my body, absorbing all my thoughts. I needed that spanking! It wasn't about deserving it, and there were no threats of even more impressive punishment. She had to repeat her request only because, for a moment, I was simply frozen in place. But though nervous, I did like I was told. I was truly angry with myself! I had betrayed my mother's trust, but also my own principles and early ethics-code about threatening other people. To 'pay' for all this by taking a spanking didn't sound like it was a bad offer at all.
For all of you who think of a spanking as a struggle, with a dominant parent sweating, fighting, swearing and threatening, it must have been a truly surreal scene. I got across her lap, and did my utmost to allow her to set my butt on fire. I cried, but I never resisted.
Eventually, she decided that her hand wasn't going to do the job. She raised me to my feet, told me to wait, since she hadn't finished spanking me yet.
After maybe three minutes, which seemed to be 'ages', she came back with a leather slipper. Back across her knee. And this time I wasn't able to simply 'take' it. I wriggled, twisted, and tried to get my hand in between this slipper and my already pretty red butt. Even though I never intended to interfere. I just couldn't help it.

After it was done, she hauled me to my feet, dragged me to face the wall, and ordered me to just stand there and think things over. There was nothing I needed to think about. I just stood there, wiping the tears from my eyes, knowing full well that after it was all over, that would be it. And it still didn't strike me as a bad deal! Instead, to be honest, I was still left with this uneasy feeling that those two girls might not feel safe around me. And that they might feel tempted to get even in unexpected ways, since they couldn't know I *had* paid my dues!
Well, the next day, that appeared to be a miscalculation. In fact, after the door had been closed, they'd been slow leaving the apartment building. And since my bedroom was next to the entrance, at street level, with a single-pane window, covered by flimsy curtains, they had heard what went on inside. In fact, they told me the very next day, they heard every single smack.
While I understand how that announcement might have resulted in an urgent desire to leave the face of this planet in some (most?) kids at that age, I kind of sighed in relief. The book was closed. The account had been settled in full. I was on a level playing ground again.

Many years later, I did talk to one of the girls, by then a mother herself. She was actually shy to discuss what had happened,. Embarrassed even when I brought it up. But as I told her that I never felt it was abusive punishment, and that it clearly helped me to become the responsible person I was, never shy to be held accountable, she relaxed. And she confirmed that spankings had been part of her life as well, and that she had not been shocked by hearing me getting it. On the contrary! She admitted that she almost cheered my mom along in silence! Unlike her girlfriend, who had been embarrassed even then.

This story is hardly propaganda for the use of spanking, though it clearly isn't exactly scathing criticism either! All I'm hoping for, is that people give it some thought. And move away from simple answers. Lawmakers need simple answers. Lawyers need convenient answers. All I have to offer, is a confusing story.
JakeV JakeV
56-60, M
May 25, 2012