Post
Experience Project iOS Android Apps | Download EP for your Mobile Device

The Hour Of Shame

In a good number of families, spanking and corner time were an inseparable combination. There were several variations. The victim could be made to stand in the corner to await the spanking, then returned to the corner, or most commonly, spanked well and then made to stand in the corner for a time. My sisters and I had to endure the last version. Corner time at our house was called "The Hour of Shame," first because the length of time was literally one hour, and because the spanked girl was made to stand there with her red bottom fully exposed to the gaze of the family while she was powerless to do anything about it.
Because Mom was a single parent, being made to raise three daughters alone, she was the sole punisher of misbehavior. The punishment rarely varied and always followed a routine: First a long spanking on the bare bottom with a large wooden hairbrush that was used exclusively for tanning our hides, followed by large soapsuds enema. For those who wonder about this, Mom was a nurse and discovered that we girls hated enemas, so she used it to add to our shame and discomfort. After the girl had relieved herself, during which time she had to sit on the hard toilet seat with her red hot bottom in full contact, she was marched to the living room corner to spend the next hour there in complete silence and immobility.
The corner time was very tedious and difficult to endure, in case some people think that it was probably easy because the spanking was over and there was no further pain involved. This was simply not true.
In preparation for the spanking session, Mom folded up the backs of the girl's skirt and slip, and pinned them securely to the waistband of her skirt with four spring clothespins--one at each hip and two toward the middle of the back, which held up the skirts securely. And once her panties and pantyhose had been peeled down to her knees, the girl's bottom and thighs were completely exposed. Then it was over Mom's knee for her. At the end of the tanning her cheeks and thighs were a burning red and swollen up considerably. This made the girl's butt very difficult to sit on while she was on the toilet.
Now came the "Hour of Shame."
With her skirt and slip still tacked up and her panties down to where they had fallen during her wild kicking from the spanking, the girl was ushered into the living room and over to the designated corner, which was usually occupied by an armchair. After moving the chair out of the way, the girl took its place by standing facing the corner with her hands at her side and her nose as far into the corner as possible. She was forbidden to speak or be spoken to by anyone except Mom, and her hands were not to move from her sides. Unable to soothe or rub her simmering cheeks, the girl had to stand at complete attention to do her "reflection," that is, meditate upon the reason for the naughtiness that had gotten her into this situation, and to feel her spanked heinie cook for the next sixty minutes. Mom set a kitchen timer, and the girl was made to listen to the slow ticking as the minutes whiled away.
I can't begin to say how many times I was in this situation, but I never liked it. After my sound tanning and uncomfortable enema, I was led to the corner while I shuffled with my panties down, followed by my sisters who had been made to watch my spanking. With hands at sides and nose in the corner, I felt surrounded by the two joining walls. I knew my family's combined eyes were staring at my burning rump, because I could feel their presence, but as I could not turn around I could not see my audience. My hind end was tingling and burning, and I longed to reach back and rub it gently to soothe it and maybe lower the heat that radiated out from my cheeks, which I could feel were swelling up as I stood there helplessly.
I could make no sound except to sniffle and sob from the pain and the shame. All I could hear was the ticking of the kitchen timer. Because I was in reflection, I had plenty of time to think about what I had done to earn my punishment. As I felt my bare heinie glow and fry, I promised myself never to get into this situation again! But being young, and making foolish errors, I knew the corner would be waiting for me again.
On average, each of us were tanned about once every two months, which actually is quite a space between spankings. Mom did not tan us for every little infraction, but only when the crime required this type of punishment, like willful disobedience, fighting with sisters, failure to do chores, or breaking curfew and not returning home at the designated time.
On and on went that infernal ticking. It was driving me nuts! How much longer would I have to stand here? Shaking from the well-applied spanking and becoming weak in the knees from standing at attention, I began to grow tired. I longed to turn around to look at the wall clock, or even call out to Mom, "How much longer?" I wanted to reach back and put a gentle hand on my blazing heinie. But I did not dare! Mom could be watching me and such an infraction could result in more "paddywhacks" as she called the spanks. I certainly did not want more of those!
At long, long last the timer bell rang. I sobbed with relief. I was soon to be a free girl again!
I could hear Mom come into the living room and felt her unclip the clothespins, then unfold my slip and skirt. My panties and stockings were left down.
"All right, Pamela Ann," said Mom in a surprisingly soothing tone, "get upstairs to bed now."
I made a painful about-face and hobbled to the long stairway. I could feel my burning hot seat rubbing against my nylon slip with a chafing sensation. The stairway up to our bedroom never seemed so long as when I had to climb it with my underpants down. I took one step at a time because my ankles were confined by my hose and panties. Another step, then another, and after what seemed like forever I reached the top step and shuffled into my room. Once there I kicked off my hose and panties, eased out of my skirt and slip, and backed into the door mirror, peering apprehensively over my shoulder to see what damage the hairbrush had inflicted. Then I cried at the sight. Shucking off my blouse and bra, I put on my pajama top and left my bottom bare to get some coolness on it. I collapsed face-down on the bed and cried into my pillow.
As she always did, Mom came into my room in about an hour, carrying a jar of cold cream and a box of medicated baby powder. She was very gentle as she spread the soothing cream over my plumped-up cheeks, then dusted them with the powder. Then she gave me a reassuring kiss.
"Remember," she said, "I tanned your heinie because I love you, and care about your behavior."
Her words made me cry all over again. "I'm sorry, Mom," I blubbered.
"It's over now," said Mom. "Get some rest."
Usually it took between two and three days to sit comfortably again, and during that time the spanked girl had to eat all her meals standing at the kitchen counter, bending forward over her plate. Going to the bathroom was difficult, but we managed to do it by hovering our behinds just above the toilet seat.
I still love my Mom very much, and I knew she did this not to be cruel, but because it was the only way she knew how to deal with discipline--especially during that age when spankings were a common punishment, and when love was measured by how red she had made our bottoms. But I would never have gone against doing less time in the corner. But then it would not have been called "The Hour of Shame."
BadPam BadPam 51-55, F 6 Responses Jun 28, 2013

Your Response

Cancel

Well the spankings certainly did not hurt you long term did they?
Contrary to these people who think corporal punishment should be a Court Offence.
Perhaps a bit more punishment is in order to get common sense and honesty back into Society.

I think the hardest part of my spankings was to stand motionless in the corner for an hour while my bottom simmered. But no, there was no permanent damage--even though some point out that there was, otherwise I wouldn't be writing these stories!

Truly spoken by some who cares about her own family and Society

It made a huge impact in your life-one i am sure that carried on in to adulthood.. Its not just for younger folks either - lol, corner time can be useful in the office as well.

Well I don't know if it made a huge impact or not. It was part of the spanking ceremony and we expected it along with the other punishments. What I hated most--besides the long boredom--was not being able to rub or soothe my roasting behind all that while.

yes - it makes the hour seem to last forever..

Just to let you know boys had corner time to. My aunt raised both My older cousin (female) and myself and both of us got otk spankings on our bare butts, then came the corner time with the pants and under pants down to show off my aunts handy work (corner time was about 30 min).

I have no doubt that boys got corner time too! The myth that I want to dispel is that girls didn't get spanked because they were better behaved. We probably didn't do as many deliberately "bad" things, but we sure got into some mischief!

At home corner time was very rare but I had to do it after my Aunt slippered my (male) cousin and me. He was 12 and I was 14 and she'd caught us being "naughty" ;) He went over the chair first, with his jeans and underpants down, for good dose of the slipper. Then it was my turn to go over the chair, with my jeans and knickers down, for a slippering. Afterwards we had to stand facing the wall for thirty minutes with our bare, red arses on display.

Wonderful story as usual. Great attention to detail and emotions. Never did corner time in our family. It was right to bed after the spanking.....well, actually, after the dance.

WONDERFUL tale (no pun intended). I love corner time stories and yours is one of the best. While you were standing there those many times I'm sure you never thought you'd be writing about your experiences years later. I also like the regimentation of the punishments your mom administered. For you girls to know, exactly, what was going to happen to you once you'd misbehaved must have been an integral part of the punishment. Thanks for the terrific story.

I never dreamed I would be telling people about it, much less writing about it for hundreds of people to read! I admit I did tell some of my friends about my spankings, but I left out certain aspects because they were too embarrassing.

Indeed it must have been very embarrassing for you, even in an age when lots of kids got spanked, unlike these days. I recall the "music" of spankings taken place on our block back then. I especially liked it if I could hear one of the neighborhood girls "getting it", as opposed to one of the boys. We always knew who "got it" and would tease her later but, like you never got her to fully reveal all the details. Darn, I miss those days!

Simply incredible. Amazingly detailed. A+ story