Weapon Of Choice...I was born in the 70s in France and my mother was a convinced slippering giver. She always bought flat closed toe mules slippers she wore at home and eventually spanked me with. These slippers were easy to slip off and handy for spankings. I recall many times she was chasing me slipper in hand as I was trying to escape the spanking. Fortunately she couldn’t run very fast with only one slippered foot but unfortunately we lived in a flat so I couldn’t escape her very long. I knew also that the longer she would chase me the worse my slippering would be. So usually I would surrender quite fast hoping I wouldn’t get it too hard thus (mistake most of the time!). She would then grab me by the waist, sticking me against her leg and whack my bottom with her slipper 10-20 times. For more serious offences (rude talking, notes from school, really bad behaviour…) the process was slightly different. I would first be lectured and told I would receive a “good” (good meaning bare bottom in my mom’s mind…) spanking with her slipper. It always happened after my shower once I was in pyjamas (I guess my bottom was easier to bare with the no button /zip pyjama’s trouser). She would come to me a sit on a chair or my bed and lecture me again (I shouldn’t show I was bored by that if I didn’t want to get extra smacks). She would put me over her lap and give me a dozen slaps on my still covered bottom as a warm up. Then she would lower my pyjama’s trousers and bare my buttocks. By the way she would pick up the slipper which was from the same side of my naked end (my bottom placed to her right side meant right slipper and vice versa). Finally she would give 40-50 solid smacks to my bottom with her slipper in an increasing rhythm. I would then be left in my room with a sore bottom and tears rolling on my cheeks until diner time. But my mom wasn’t the only person who slippered me.
When I was around 9 my mother hired a young woman, Anita, to baby-sit me after school and do a few chores in the house (ironing, vacuum cleaning…). Anita went to fetch me the first time at school and when we came back home she produced a brand new pair of slippers from a plastic bag who were of the same type my mother used to wear and punish me with. She put the slippers on while I was wondering if my mother had informed Anita about the way she usually spanked me. At these times being spanked by an adult who looked after you was considered normal if not encouraged and my mother was a real supporter of this concept. In fact Anita wore her slippers to avoid dirtying the floor as she cleaned it when needed. That type of slippers was commonly worn by, let’s say, 40% of the women I saw in slippers. I concluded there was nothing to worry about, even if a few friends of mine had confessed me before they were also slippered by their mothers (my experience taught me later slippering was more used in my country than I expected). Anita was a really beautiful young woman and hormones helping, I began to desire physical contact with her (at this point I didn’t know at all what making love consisted in). Without knowing why, I wanted to touch her legs and her breast, but in a discreet way. Hugging her would be too obvious, so I went to the strange conclusion that I had to be spanked over her lap. I feared spankings but not Anita. I wrongly estimated she couldn’t spank me hard. So I turned into a little demon answering back, arguing all the time about everything, doing my homework the latest possible in order to make Anita mad about me. Anita finally started spanking me but not over her knee to my great disappointment. Usually she would grab one of my arms with her hand and slap my bottom 5-10 times with the other. She was standing up chastising me from behind with a minimal physical contact between us. No way to fall on her lap by accident or suggest the way I wanted her to spank me. But I finally got what I wanted in a certain way. One night Anita’s was spanking me again (for the 3rd or 4th time of the week if I remember) and my mom came home earlier. As she came in the living-room where my spanking was taking place, Anita stopped the instant. My mother asked Anita the reason of my spanking (not to disapprove Anita in fact but to estimate if my punishment was severe enough regarding to what I had done). Anita explained my mother what a bad boy I had been that evening, and the one before, and the one before, well the whole week. My mom seemed to become angrier as Anita was talking to her and I felt I would be soon over Mom’s lap receiving a “good” slippering. When my mom finished her conversation she faced me and told me I was about to receive a good spanking with her slipper in front of Anita in order to show her how to spank me properly. She went to her room leaving me with Anita who was lightly smiling. Still smiling Anita told me that I was going to have what I had well deserved and that she would be happy to witness it. I answer a low “*****” that Anita heard. She stopped smiling as my mom was coming back to the living-room slippered feet but whispered me we would talk about that incident later. Mom sat on a chair, put me over her knee, bared my bottom (bad luck I was already in pyjamas), slipped off her slipper and picked it up. She then forcefully spanked my bare bottom with her slipper. I avoided the usual warm-up but got 70-80 slipper smacks on the bare in exchange. I decided to close my eye during the spanking. If I looked up I would see Anita with her smile and satisfied looking. If I looked down, I would see mom’s feet. One with a slipper on, the other bare reminding me each second that the twin slipper was chastising my bottom. Having finished her duty, my mom put her slipper back on, lifted me up and made me march to my room where I would wait for diner. I was rubbing my bottom and getting my trousers on when I crossed Anita’s looking and smile. As I was going to my room I believed I heard my mother advising Anita to use her slipper on my bottom if I was disrespectful to her again. The next day, I was in a bad mood when Anita fetched me at school. In my mind Anita was responsible for the spanking I had got the day before and I tried to speak to her the less possible. From her side Anita acted as she didn’t notice my mood and seemed rather happy to my great frustration. Once at home my mood went worse and I started defying Anita again just to make her pay a little for what had happened to my bottom previously. To my surprise Anita lost her temper faster than she used to. After the fifth “leave me alone!” I shouted to her, Anita caught me by the arm and sat on the sofa. She told me it was about time she followed my mother’s advice. Before I could react she unbuttoned my trousers and, with a strength I didn’t know from her, pulled my jeans and boxer together in a swift movement. She made me bend over and before I could protest I found myself lying down on Anita’s lap, her left arm holding me firmly. I had achieved my goal but I didn’t anticipate I would be bare bottomed. I started to think I wouldn’t enjoy being in that position as much as I wanted to, and feared about what was going to happen to my buttocks. Anita told me that she was furious about me calling her a ***** the day before as well as my recent behaviour. She would have let it gone if I hadn’t been a bad boy again that afternoon. I replied her by an unconvinced “let me go” and saw her kick off her right slipper. She bent down to retrieve it and told me from now on, she would punish me the way my mother had instructed her. The next sound I heard was Anita’s slipper landing harshly on my naked bottom. She repeatedly whacked my bare bum around 50 times with her slipper. She didn’t spank as hard as my mom but faster. Once Anita had finished spanking me she rested her slipper against my quite red bottom she told me to be nice until my mother would come back home whether she would tell her she had to spank me again. The threat was sufficient to me because I knew for sure that if she told my mother I would be slippered again.
I went several times on Anita’s lap as she kept on baby-sitting me. But only my bad behaviour and not my will made it happen…
This story is dedicated to the group’s banner which reminded me a lot of Anita.