The Broken Window
Spanking was fairly common in my aunt’s house, just as it was in my house, as they were common in almost everyone else’s house I knew. All my friends were well aware of the maternal hairbrush and paternal strap and the damage it could do to a tender bottom. My two cousins and I were no exceptions. Unlike in some of my friend’s houses, in my aunt’s home all spanking was done in the downstairs family room and anyone present got to see it. Neither my aunt, Mom nor Dad cared if the house was empty, full of friends or anyone else, when you earned a spanking you would get it. The other thing they did was tell you exactly when you would get spanked and then often made you think and wait awhile for it. The end of my sixth grade in school was one of those times.
While walking home to my aunt’s house after classes - where I was staying for a week - my friend Jim and I began to pick up stones and throw them at signs, trees and anything else we decided we might be able to hit. I saw a squirrel sitting on top of a fence and gave it my best shot. I missed the squirrel but didn’t miss the nearby window on Mrs. Waters' back porch. As soon as we heard the glass break we ran as fast as we could so we wouldn’t get caught.
About ten minutes later I was walking through my aunt’s back door as though nothing had happened.
My aunt was in the kitchen and asked me how my day went.
I said it was OK and continued toward my room to change into my after school clothes.
“Did anything happen on the way home?” she asked.
I said "No" and continued toward my room.
"That’s not what I heard. Mrs. Waters said someone broke one of her porch windows. Do you know anything about that?" she added.
Without thinking I blurted out, “No.”
“Well, mister, I am afraid that I do know something about it and lying about it was really not a smart thing to do. I am afraid I will have to correct that habit.” Aunt Peggy continued.
“Don’t bother changing right now, just get off those pants and underpants down and we will have a discussion”
I knew I was in big trouble and understood well what was meant by a “discussion”. When my bottom clothes were off, I was told I would get a hand spanking right then and there, but only after we had made a stop by the kitchen sink for a little soap. She was going to wash out my mouth for lying.
“Please, I didn’t mean to.” Was all I could utter.
We made the stop at the sink and I got a good washing with Ivory Soap. While the awful taste was still filling my mouth I went over Aunt Peggy’s lap and got a good hand spanking. It hurt and made me cry but was not as bad as I had feared. Maybe she felt the soap was enough to make me really sorry. All I know is that my bottom hurt and my mouth tasted awful.
When I got up and headed for my room again she called me back telling me that we were not through yet.
Her next pronouncement was that I could stand in the corner, with my pink rear on display and the taste of soap in my mouth, until 6:00 PM - more than an hour. At six I would go to her room, get her favorite hairbrush and get a real grown up spanking that would keep me standing for dinner.
“You already spanked me, it’s not fair,” I said.
“I didn’t say it was fair, but I think it is. I also didn’t tell you that it will hurt a lot, but it will. And finally, I didn’t say it would be all of your punishment, because it won’t,” Aunt Peggy said.
As I stood in the corner both of my cousins came in. They saw me and knew that something was up. Aunt Peggy told them what had happened and that the real fireworks would start at six.
I have felt her hairbrush before and just stood there imagining how bad it was going to be. I knew I would cry and beg and act like a little boy while by cousins delighted in watching my fanny turn from pink to a bright blazing red. Even though they were still subject to spankings, they delighted when I was over their Mom’s knee getting spanked hard.
Before six, both Ann, who is two years older, and Jill, who is a year younger came into the kitchen to begin having their fun.
“Mom said Terry is due for a six o’clock attitude adjustment session.” “I bet his attitude gets adjusted good. What do you think John? “His bottom is already a little red, that means Mom is going to use her hairbrush.” “Boy that stings, I remember my last one.” “Hey Terry, are you looking forward to a trip over Mom’s lap? I am.”
Listening to them I began to cry even before the spanking.
“Terry, don’t cry until Mom gives you a reason.” “You know how she likes to spank with her brush, nice and slow and loooooong.” “Yep, I bet it takes a long time.” “And how each spank will sting worse than the last one.” “I think I will enjoy watching your butt turned bright red, glad it’s not mine.” “And the way you will try to wiggle out of the way.” “Oh yes, and the crying, you always sound so pathetic.” “Only five more minutes to go.”
With all of the teasing I was crying real tears and my Aunt hadn’t even started. I was eleven years old with my bare bottom on display for my cousins to see and make fun of, and I knew they would soon get a good look at my private parts, it was very embarrassing. Even more embarrassing was that, while standing there, I started to get an erection, which I knew would add even more embarrassment.
Aunt Peggy came into the kitchen where all this was going on and announced, “Terry, it’s time, go get my hairbrush and meet me in the family room.”
When I turned from the wall my cousins saw my member sticking out and began to giggle. “Mom, it looks like Tery is looking forward to his spanking, his penis is saluting.”
“Don’t worry girls, it won’t be standing up for long,” their Mom responded.
I hurried upstairs to fetch Aunt Peggy’s brush. It wasn’t the heavy wooden brush most people talk about and my own mother uses. Her's was a rather light plastic with a big, flat backside. It was not meant to bruise after a few good spanks. But was rather intended to allow for very long applications where your bottom just gets hot hotter and hotter until you know someone had actually burned you. Aunt Peggy’s spankings with this brush often lasted between thirty to forty-five minutes and consisted of hundreds of quick, sharp spanks. She always said that she didn’t need to spank so hard as to cause bruises or anything. She thought a longer spanking that really started a fire worked better. She also said she was positive a well-burned bottom would not be used for sitting for several hours but would be ready, if necessary, the next day.
Returning to the family room I saw Aunt Peggy sitting in her spanking chair ready for my arrival. Ann and Jill were on the couch ready to have a good look at my punishment. To hide my front from my cousins I went to her and immediately bent over her left leg, as I knew would be expected. Her right leg immediately pinned my legs so I could not get away and my bottom was fixed right where it was the most accessible. Knowing what was next, I put my right are behind me where it was quickly grabbed by the wrist and pinned to my back. I was now positioned to receive my spanking and no matter how much I struggled, I would not be unable to do anything about it.
Aunt Peggy started spanking as soon as I was positioned. As usual, her first spanks did not result in howls of protest; that would come later. In the beginning you felt the spanks but they were by no means unbearable.
My older cousin seemed to really enjoy either me or Jill getting a good bottom warming. Just so her Mom would get into a good rhythm and I would really feel the spanking, Ann began singing her favorite song to the beat of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”.
"Twinkle Twinkle little star, I can see how bare you are, Mom is going to spank you well, Go ahead and yell like hell. Remember, this is just the start. Soon your butt will really smart."
I knew she was right. The sting was just starting to get a little worse when I said, “Aunt Peggy, this really is starting to hurt, please don’t.”
“Yes Terry, it is beginning to hurt and I am quite sure it will hurt a lot more, we just got started, it has only been a little over a minute.” She said.
In a couple of more minutes, with the brush still keeping time on my bottom, my sounds began to change. “Ouch, Ow, Ow, please, it really hurts.”
“I bet it does. I will be done in only 25 or thirty more minutes,” was all she said. All the while she never lost her rhythm on my bottom. It was just a constant spank, spank, spank.
Long before we reached the ten-minute mark it was obvious her brush was having its desired effect.
“OOOOWWW, IT HURTS, PLEEEEASE STOP, OWOWOW.” I was crying and struggling to get out of the way of her brush. She didn’t say a word, she just kept up the constant tattoo.
Aunt Peggy didn’t spank all over, she just found the soft spot at the bottom of your fanny, just above your legs, and kept spanking the same spots over and over again. Left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, never missing a beat.
By the ten minute mark there was a raging fire where the brush kept landing. Aunt Peggy knew how much getting spanked over and over again in the same spots hurts. She also knew that by the next day, most of the pain would be gone and I would be left only with the memory of a good tanning I didn’t want repeated any time soon. She also knew you would heal quickly, she firmly believed that long spankings were necessary if she was really to get her point across.
Aunt Peggy kept up the spanks for the full thirty minutes she planned on. I cried, yelled, begged and struggled the whole time to no avail. I was trapped and my bottom was getting punished.
She finally stopped and let me calm down a few minutes still over her knee. I knew, from past experience, that the heat would keep rising for a good thirty minutes after the spanks stopped. While the spanking was over, the punishment was not.
I was told to take my place in the corner while she finished dinner. She reminded me that reaching back to rub the heat out of my bottom was not allowed. She told the girls to keep an eye on me to make sure there was no rubbing and reminded me that if I did, she would be happy to give me another trip across her lap right then.
I went to the corner and kept shifting my weight from foot to foot. Why everyone does that after a spanking I don’t know, it never helps. I just couldn’t stand still as the fire kept growing. As much as I wanted to rub away the pain, the threat of another spanking worked. I just stood there and suffered.
After only five or ten minutes I heard Ann say. “Jill, watch this, I am going to have some fun. MOM, MOM, come quick, Terry is rubbing his bottom; he wants another spanking.”
Aunt Peggy came in a few seconds later and I pleaded, “I didn’t, it hurts a lot, but I haven’t rubbed it. Ann’s lying. I didn’t do it. Please, I don’t want to be spanked again.”
Aunt Peggy looked at Ann and said. “Ann, I often take a peak to see what is going on in here. Now, since you are looking toward the TV, you can’t really know if I was watching or not. I am going to ask you if Terry rubbed his bottom. If he did, he will get another spanking. If he didn’t, and you say he did, you will get a spanking and I will wash your mouth out with soap after every meal for a week. Think about it. Did Terry rub his bottom?”
“Ann looked at the floor and said, “No, he didn’t, I made it up.”
My Aunt just walked over to the chair where I had been over her lap and said. “Jill, please turn down dinner to simmer, it will be a while before we eat. Ann, get over here and drop those pants and underpants and get over my knee. At least I already have my brush handy.”
Ann said, “Mom, it was just a joke, I didn’t mean it. I’m thirteen and don’t want a spanking.”
Aunt Peggy asked me if I thought getting spanked was a joke? I emphatically said it was not.
In a moment Ann was across her Mom’s knee, in exactly the same helpless position I had been in. As the first spank landed I heard her Mom singing quietly, “twinkle, twinkle little star ...”
The beginning of Ann’s spanking was just like mine. It stung, but not too bad. Her Mom used that time to lecture her.
“You won’t think getting spanked is so funny in a few minutes As a matter of fact, I bet you won’t find one bit of humor at all in receiving a good bottom warming. What you did was mean. I will not have you kids acting that way. Are you beginning to feel anything yet? Don’t worry. You soon will. Soon you will have nothing to think but the fire in your bottom, I am going to add ten minutes to your spanking over what John got. Think about it! Forty minutes, not thirty, and you have earned every extra minute”
“Mom, please don’t,” was all Ann could say. In a few minutes she sounded just like me. “Ouch, Ow, Ow, Mom, it hurts, OWW.”
Soon it became. “OOOOWWW, IT HURTS, PLEEEEASE STOP, OWOWOW.” Ann’s bottom may have been two years older than mine but it was just as tender and she reacted to her Mom’s attention just like I had.
When her Mom was done, Ann was sent to the other corner with the same warning about rubbing away the pain that I was given.
We were both still crying, Ann harder than I, when dinner was finally ready. As Aunt Peggy and Jill sat down to eat, Ann and I filled our plates and went to the counter to eat. Both of our bottoms were still bare, as they would be for the rest of the day, even when her Dad came home from work. He took everything in stride. Her Dad sat down, filled his plate, and began dinner. He looked at my aunt and said, “it looks like whatever happened has been paid for, was it bad enough that I need to strap them also?” Every muscle in my body went tense until Aunt Peggy said she thought we had learned our lesson and didn’t need the tawse.
Sometimes, if we had really done something bad, my uncle would use an old Scottish tawse after my aunt used her brush. If you don’t know what it is, a tawse is a thick leather strap that has been split on the business end. Actually, I had only had the strap once and Ann was in the same situation. Jill was only nine and hadn’t been introduced to her Dad’s tawse yet. That would come after her tenth birthday.
We were both really afraid of the strap, even more than of her or my mother’s hairbrush. Although another story, here is how the tawse was used.
The rule was one stripe for each year of age until graduation from college. Her Dad didn’t go for distance like her Mom, he went right for intense pain in the rear. When you were to get strapped, you went into the family room and presented your bare bottom bent over the arm of the couch. My uncle would begin his lecture and with no warning bring the strap down hard across both cheeks. The result was instantaneous; you immediately cried out and jumped up with both hands grabbing your bottom in a frantic attempt to rub the sting and burning away. He didn’t care how long you hopped around and rubbed your bottom.
The problem was that once the first stripe landed, you had exactly 150 seconds to be back across the arm of the couch in position for a second stripe. He wouldn’t say a word about getting back in position, but if you were late, after your next stripe he would say, “That was a free one.” It didn’t count. I got the tawse once when I was about ten and one-half and I wound up with sixteen stripes because I couldn’t force myself back into position fast enough. Ann received thirteen when she was eleven. I couldn’t sit comfortably for three or four days.
On your birthday, you received one stripe just to remind you what would happen if you needed a strapping. A single stripe was enough to keep you rubbing the pain away for a good ten to fifteen minutes.
But back to this experience.
As was not he case with Mom’s spankings, by morning the only thing that remained was a pink color and a little soreness. You were ready to get on with life. The only lasting effect was the memory of how much the spanking had hurt.
It was Friday, a whole weekend and no school. I was happy walking home planning everything I could do before Monday. When I got home I told my Aunt I was going to call my friend Steve and see if he could play as I was heading for the phone.
“Just a minute Terry,” Aunt Peggy said. “Yesterday you paid me for lying about what you did to Mrs. Water’s window. Today you will pay her. You are to take my hairbrush over to Mrs. Water’s and ask her to give you a good bare bottom spanking for what you did. I also want you to tell her everything that happened to you yesterday.”
“AUNT PEGGY, IT’S NOT FAIR,” I said.
Her answer was, "Fair or not you are going to do it and Jill is going with you so you don’t forget anything."
When Jill and I got to Mrs. Waters' house I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Holding the hairbrush behind my back, I knocked on the door and waited for Mrs. Waters' to answer.
When she opened the door I looked at the ground and said, “Mom told me to ask you to spank my bare bottom for what I did yesterday,” I said, as I handed her the hairbrush.
Mrs. Waters looked surprised and said, “I really wouldn’t mind tanning you good but I think I would feel strange giving someone else’s child a spanking, especially on the bare.” Jill chimed in, “Terry, you haven’t told her everything Mom told you to.”
I blushed and added, “Yesterday, after I broke your window I ran home and lied about it. Aunt Peggy washed my mouth out with soap and gave me a hand spanking. I had to stand in the corner for about an hour and wait for the hairbrush spanking she promised. When the hour was up I was spanked so bad that I had to stand at the kitchen counter to eat because my bottom was so sore.”
Mrs. Waters just smiled and said again that she would still feel uncomfortable spanking me but was going to call my aunt to see what she thought could be done. After a few minutes she returned and said that after talking to Aunt Peggy, she was not going to give me a spanking although she had told my Aunt that she wished she had been at our house yesterday. Inside I leaped for joy, I had been saved.
Then the really bad news came. “Your aunt and I came to the agreement that I should see you punished, and to tell you the truth I would really like that. Windows cost money. You and I are going right back to your house and you are going to get another blistering from your aunt - and I will enjoy watching every bit of it.”
It was the worst news I could have had. When we got home, my uncle was there along with Ann of course. Right after we got in the door I was sent to fetch the brush and told to be quick about it.
When I returned my aunt was talking with Mrs. Waters and I got in on the end of the conversation “... glad you have time to stay for his entire spanking. At first it may not seem like much, but I am sure that after a while you will see a young boy wanting to be anywhere in the world but over my knee. It just takes a while for my method to have an effect. Since you were the offended party, I will let you pick the length of his punishment. Yesterday I gave him thirty minutes and then had to give Ann forty. I do have general rule to not go over an hour. It seems to work because I don’t ever remember any of the children doing anything again that earned an hour spanking for the same thing a second time.”
Mrs. Waters looked at me, then at Peggy, then back to me. I was petrified at what she would say – my day got worse. “If an hour will keep him from breaking another window and then running away, and if it is OK with you, I would like it to be an hour.”
“Get your pants down and come here,” Aunt Peggy said as she sat down.
Blushing in front of Mrs. Waters, I pealed off my pants, pulled my underpants down, and quickly got over Aunt Peggy’s knee so I would be hidden a little. In no time my legs were pinned between her legs and my free arm pinned to the small of my back. Having been in this position many times, I knew there was no escape.
Slap, Slap, Slap.
Ann didn’t dare sing her little song but her Mom knew the rhythm by heart.
Like all other times I began to squirm after a couple of minutes trying to escape the constant assault on my bottom. I tried hard to keep my composure and not break down and cry in front of Mrs. Waters. After a couple more minutes I started with the “Ow, it hurts, please, not so hard, just let me rest a minute.”
Another couple minutes and it became “OUCH, OWW, OWWEE, PLEEEASE”.
I heard Mrs. Waters say, “Your method seems to work, John is beginning to object a lot.”
A few minutes later I lost all control. “OOOWWWEEE, OOOUUCH, PLEEEASE, STOPPP, IT HURTS.” And the tears began to flow.
Aunt Peggy just continued with her hairbrush, adding fire to my bottom. I couldn’t think of anything other that how much it burned.
After what seemed forever, she stopped her constant slapping and asked Mr. Waters of she thought I was paying for breaking the window.
Mrs. Waters replied. “It looks like he won’t sit for dinner again tonight, his bottom looks absolutely on fire.”
“Oh he won’t sit all right, and he knows it. See, he is still wiggling like he has a fire on his bottom and crying up a bucket.”
I was still over my aunt’s knee when I heard her say, “Well, thirty more minutes and we will be done.”
“NOOOOOO, IT HURTS, I’M already SOOOO SORE, PLEEEASE NO MORE.”
Slap, Slap, Slap.
Near the end of the second thirty minutes I had struggled as much as I could and was hoarse from screaming and begging mom to stop. My bottom was burning up. I had cried what I thought were all of the tears I had, but of course I was still crying. My aunt just kept up her steady slap, slap, slap as I was stuck across her knee until the full hour was up.
After calming down a little, I was told to take my position in the corner with the normal warning to not to try and rub any of the pain away. Shifting from foot to foot I was on display for as long as Mrs. Waters wanted to watch. She was amazed that I continued to cry as the residual heat built up even after the spanking stopped.
Aunt Peggy and Mrs. Waters stayed in the room, talking and drinking coffee, for at least a couple of hours. All the time my bare, and BRIGHT RED, bottom was on display. Even my uncle said, ‘Honey, I think you out did your self today. It’s only about 11 in the morning and I don’t think Terry will want to sit down by dinner tonight.”
When they were done talking, Aunt Peggy walked Mrs. Waters to the door. Before she left she said, “Terry, come over hear and apologize again to Mrs. Waters before she leaves. She said she thinks you have paid for the window and wants to tell you there are no hard feelings.”
I had to walk over, completely exposed, and apologize. Mrs. Waters accepted my apology. She told me to turn around so she could get one last look and my burning bottom before she left.
As was the custom, once a bottom was bared for a spanking, there would be no pants for the rest of the day.
Since it was so early, before the day was over a couple of my uncle’s friends and three of the women in Aunt Peggy’s card club got a chance to see a well spanked 11 year old bottom.
Aunt Peggy was right; I never broke a window again.
-- The End --