Curiosity got me spanked
I was never sparked by my parents growing up, but was always fascinated about the idea as long as I could remember.
Once when I was 12, I was spending the weekend at a friend’s house when my parents took a weekend trip. He lived with just his mom and they had a lot more rules, and she seemed much more strict.
One of their rules was to never run up the stairs. This was a new and weird thing for me, I ran up our stairs at home all the time. The first time I ran up the stairs there, I didn’t even know it was against the rules, but his mom really yelled at me for it. It seemed unfair, since I had never even been told I shouldn’t beforehand.
Some time later, without even thinking about it, I ran up the stairs again. This time she was really furious and screaming at me for it. She yelled at my “not listening” and “disrespect for the rules”. Then lastly, she said if I did it again, she would “make me sorry” with “a good old fashioned spanking.”
Needless to say, that really got my attention. It was both frightening and intriguing, I’d never been threatened with a spanking before. My long-time curiosity about it made my feelings very conflicted and confusing.
The rest of the afternoon not much happened, I was just watching tv and playing video games with my friend. But I was barely paying attention because I kept thinking about the incident earlier on the stairs.
I was, in some order: scared, curious, embarrassed. I couldn’t put the thought out of my head, though. What’s it like to get spanked for real and not just imagine it? How bad could it be? It’s not like you die from it, but still, kids hate it and do everything to avoid it.
I don’t remember that I ever actually made up my mind and resolved myself to do it, but I found myself drawn to the stairs again. And I just sort of took-off running.
Of course, she instantly caught me. She looked even madder than before but this time didn’t yell and scream. She just angrily but quietly said, “come with me.” She took ahold of my shoulders and marched me towards the bedroom.
She sat on a small bench in front of the vanity and placed me directly in front, facing her. I was no longer curious and intrigued, I was just scared now and didn’t want to do this any more.
Before saying anything she reached out and unzipped my jeans, then pulled them all the way down. It was very embarrassing. Then before I could even process that, to my horror, I watched helplessly as she hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of my white briefs and began to pull them down. I was humiliated beyond belief, just standing there while this strange woman I barely know is pulling my underwear down leaving me fully exposed.
She pulled me across her left knee and swung her other leg around to lock me in place. This is when the lecture began. Honestly I had no idea what she said, my head was swimming and all I could think about was my bare butt up in the air, exposed and unprotected.
I remember noticing she had stopped lecturing for a moment and then I heard and felt a thunderous smack. I was shocked and how much it hurt. It was a thousand times worse than I had ever imagined. Then another smack crashed down. I remember thinking, “oh my god, I’m getting a spanking,” and feeling a panic that I would never make it through this. It had just started and was the most awful pain I’d ever felt. Before I knew it, I was already crying hard, sobbing and convulsing as the spanking dragged on and on. I have no idea how long it really was, but it felt like forever.
Finally, she paused and waited for my sobbing to subside. Then she asked, “are you going to run up the stairs again?” Through tears and snot I yelled out “No!” Then she said, “Good. Now let’s make sure you remember.” She started a short volley of extra-hard spanks that stung all the more, sending me into another fit of sobbing.
When she stopped she didn’t let me lie there to recover. She stood me up, pointed right at my crying face, and said, “Don’t let it happen again or I’ll spank you twice as long next time.” I nodded while still crying.
I was in a world of singular focus that my butt was on fire. Eventually I realized my underwear and jeans were still around my ankles. Despite no relief firmly burning butt, I realized my shame of being exposed and pulled them back up.
I left for the guest bedroom to cry some more and recompose. An hour later, but butt still burned, and I felt very ashamed. Ashamed at getting spanked, ashamed at having had my pants and underwear pulled down, and shame I cried so hard like a little kid.
It was really awkward and I hated having to interact the rest of the stay. My friend obviously heard the whole thing. Thankfully he didn’t say anything. I was embarrassed to be around the mom, because she had spilled my underwear down, seen me exposed, seen my red butt, and seen me cry.
I didn’t tell my parents about it. Both because I was embarrassed, but also afraid I’d be in trouble for getting in trouble as a guest. It even crossed my mind that there was a small chance to open the door to my parents considering spankings as a punishment in the future.
In retrospect, my curiosity was definitely satisfied. I most certainly knew exactly what a real spanking was like and “how bad can it be.” I was glad I didn’t get spanked regularly. I imagine based on my experience with his mom, she did that to him lots of times.
Looking back, I think I’m glad I had the experience. Even though I hated it at the time, the curiosity had been bothering me for years and I’m sure never would have dissipated. It was the only “opportunity” to get a spanking that ever came along and I don’t imagine I ever would have had the nerve to ask for one.