(gap: 2s) Once upon a time, in a leafy corner of Surrey, there lived a cheerful family in a bright, well-kept house. The children wore neat corduroys and Fair Isle jumpers, and their days were filled with laughter, cricket on the green, and the gentle hum of the milk float in the lane.
(short pause) In this happy home, Mother and Father believed in kindness and understanding. When a child was cross or upset, they would sit together in the cosy sitting room, with William Morris curtains and a glowing fire, and talk quietly about feelings and what might be done better next time.
(pause) The family often gathered for meetings, where everyone, even the youngest, could share their thoughts about house rules and what was fair. The children helped decide what should happen if someone broke a rule, and so, it was rare for anyone to be truly naughty.
(short pause) But, as in all families, there were times when mistakes were made. If a child did wrong, Mother and Father would listen carefully, and together they would decide what consequence was best. Sometimes, the children even chose their own punishments, learning to be honest and fair with themselves.
(pause) Now, in those days, many parents remembered being given the slipper or a smack when they were young, and so did Mother and Father. But in this family, such things were rare and never cruel. The children knew that a consequence, though unpleasant, was meant to teach, not to hurt.
(short pause) One day, when I was thirteen, I made a very poor choice. Temptation got the better of me, and I took a small pot of make-up from the village chemist without paying. My heart thudded with guilt, and soon enough, I was caught. The shopkeeper called my parents, and I was brought home, head hung low.
(pause) That evening, the house was quiet. Mother and Father sat with me in the lounge, their faces kind but grave. They explained why stealing was wrong, and how it hurt not only others, but my own heart as well. I felt so ashamed, and tears pricked my eyes.
(short pause) “What do you think should happen now?” Father asked gently. I thought for a long moment, and then, with a trembling voice, I said, “I think I ought to be spanked, so I remember never to do such a thing again.”
(pause) Mother looked surprised, for it had been many years since such a punishment was needed. But she nodded, and said, “Very well, my dear. Go to your room, and I shall be up soon.”
(short pause) I climbed the stairs, my heart heavy, and lay face down on my bed, thinking about what I had done. The room was quiet, save for the distant sound of a Beatles tune from the kitchen radio. I knew I deserved what was coming, and I resolved to be brave.
(pause) Soon, Mother entered, her footsteps soft on the parquet floor. She picked up the wooden hairbrush from my dressing table and sat on the edge of the bed. This was the only time she ever used an implement, and I knew it was because my mistake was very serious indeed.
(short pause) Without a word, I placed myself across her lap, my cheeks burning with shame. “Mum,” I whispered, “please make it hard, so I never forget.” She replied, “I promise, darling, this will help you remember to always do what is right.”
(pause) The spanking was not cruel, but it was firm and thorough. The hairbrush stung and burned, and I cried into my pillow, the tears washing away my guilt. Mother spoke gently as she spanked, reminding me that everyone makes mistakes, but it is how we learn from them that matters most.
(short pause) When it was over, Mother hugged me close and told me she loved me very much. My bottom throbbed and itched, and I knew I would remember this lesson for a long time. My sister, hearing my cries, decided she would always try to do what was right, for she did not wish to meet the hairbrush herself.
(pause) The next morning, I apologised to the shopkeeper and promised never to steal again. I felt lighter, as though a great weight had been lifted from my heart. I knew I had done wrong, but I had also learned how to make things right.
(short pause) As the years passed, I grew into a confident and kind young person. I learned to talk about my feelings, to listen to others, and to make good choices. My brothers and sisters did the same, and our home was always filled with laughter and love.
(pause) And so, dear reader, remember: when we make mistakes, it is important to be honest, to accept the consequences, and to learn from them. A loving family helps us grow, and every lesson, even a painful one, can help us become better and kinder people.
(long pause) The End.masturbating privately in future, but I certainly felt more like a four-year-old once my mother had done with my bare bottom.
