In addition to parental punishments, the young are sometimes spanked by someone closer to their own age, most commonly an older brother or sister or a babysitter. In my case, it was my older sister Cathy who introduced me to the pain of a sound spanking.
Cathy and I were best friends growing up. Some of the guys in my neighbourhood didn’t get along with their older sisters, but she and I were close in age and were each other’s favourite playmates when we were small. As we grew older, we were always comfortable with each other in all the ways that mattered.
One of my clearest memories of my formative years was when I was lying face up in her bedroom in socks and a tee shirt . Cathy was standing beside me . She had already let me examine her , and was giving my own parts a careful survey when our Mother entered the room and saw what we were up to.
I was pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be doing what we were doing, and Cathy looked scared. But we were lucky to have very enlightened and understanding parents. Mother just said hi and sat beside me on the bed. “It’s OK, you aren’t in any trouble,” she said reassuringly. Then: “Do you have any questions?”
I don’t remember much of what followed, except that we talked about the differences between boys and girls, and about having babies.
Mostly, I was just relieved to know that we hadn’t done anything wrong by exploring . As the years passed, Cathy and I never had the hang-ups about the facts of life that many of our friends had. We could talk about things without being nervous or giggly, and paid no attention to misinformation from poorly-informed older kids. Mother and father always made sure we knew the facts—along with a strict code of behaviour and an understanding of why that was important.
Cathy’s best friend was Sondra, who lived next door. She was two years older than Cathy. One Saturday, , I came home unexpectedly to find both Mother and father out running errands.
A moment later, I heard Cathy and Sondra talking and laughing in our den. Then, to my utter surprise, I heard my sister say: “Please, Mommy, don’t spank me!” In reply, Sondra said sternly: “Come here right now.” It sounded like Cathy was laughing and crying all at once. I was fascinated and approached the den – stopping outside the half-open door so the girls wouldn’t know I was there.
In a stern, parent-like voice, Sondra lectured Cathy about her misbehavior, her tone cold and unyielding. She announced that Cathy needed a harsh lesson and pulled her across her lap, raising her skirt to expose her bare bottom. Cathy whimpered, pleading for mercy, but Sondra ignored her. She brought her hand down with a sharp smack, the sound echoing in the room. Cathy yelped, her legs kicking as Sondra delivered a flurry of hard, stinging slaps, each one leaving a red mark. Cathy’s cries grew louder, her bottom squirming under the relentless punishment, but Sondra continued, determined to make her point.
I didn’t understand what was happening. I knew some of our friends were spanked when they misbehaved, but that never happened to us. Getting more daring, I peered through the crack in the door.
Sondra sat firmly in the center of the couch, Cathy draped helplessly over her lap, her bottom high and exposed. Sondra gripped the table tennis paddle tightly, her face set with determination. She raised the paddle and brought it down with a loud crack, making Cathy gasp and sob. Each swat was harder than the last, the paddle leaving bright red ovals on Cathy’s skin. Cathy’s hands clawed at the cushions, her body jerking with every blow. Tears streamed down her face as Sondra methodically covered every inch of her bottom, the room filled with the sharp sound of wood striking flesh and Cathy’s desperate pleas for it to stop.
I stepped into the room and asked what was going on. Surprised, Sondra gasped and dropped the paddle when she saw me, but Cathy looked around from her prone position and just grinned. “I always knew we’d get caught some day,” she said.
My sister explained that she and Sondra were just playing a ‘pretend’ game, as we had done ourselves when younger. Cathy was acting out the part of a little girl who was being punished for sassing her mother.
Cathy sat up, Sondra looked shocked at having been discovered but Cathy reassured her that it was OK, She wasn’t embarrassed at all. Then she turned to me and explained how much she loved getting spanked.
Sondra told me it was fun for both of them. Sometimes they switched roles, but most of the time she liked doing the spanking, and Cathy preferred being on the receiving end.
I must say, I didn’t get it, and wanted to know what was fun about hitting each other. Cathy said it was kind of hard to explain, but she was looking bright-eyed and slightly flushed. She was obviously happy. “Doesn’t it hurt?” I asked, and she said that was the whole point. “If it isn’t real, it isn’t fun.”
I still didn’t understand. Sondra smirked at me: “If you like, Danny, I can show you what it’s like.” I thought they were crazy but didn’t have time to respond, because the next thing I knew, the two girls had ganged up on me and I was face down across Cathy’s lap, struggling to get loose. But with two against one and both the girls older, I didn’t stand a chance.
Sondra took hold of my wrists and pinned my arms to the cushions. I kicked and yelled, but it was no use – I couldn’t escape.
Both girls giggled uncontrollably as Cathy pinned me across her lap, my face pressed into the cushions. She wasted no time, her palm landing with a sharp smack on my bare bottom. The sting was immediate, each slap making me squirm and yelp. Cathy’s hand was relentless, raining down a dozen fiery spanks that left my skin burning. Then she grabbed the ping pong paddle, its hard surface unforgiving. The first swat made me cry out, the pain sharp and intense. She struck again and again, each blow making me twist and kick, my bottom growing hotter and redder with every smack. Sondra watched, grinning, eager for her turn.
“I’m gonna get you for this,” I threatened them. “Danny,” Cathy said seriously, “Sondra gives really great spankings. You should let her do it – you might just like it!”
Cathy handed the paddle to Sondra, who let go of my wrists. The girls waited to see if I was going to try to escape, and I guess I could have, but I thought about what Cathy said. Anyway, with my shorts and briefs now below my knees, I wasn’t about to stand up and let Sondra look at my privates, so I remained still.
After a tense pause, Sondra took the paddle and positioned me over her lap. She wasted no time, swinging the paddle down with force. The impact was brutal, sending a jolt of pain through me. Sondra was merciless, her strokes landing with precision, each one harder than the last. My bottom burned, the skin turning crimson as she covered every inch with stinging blows. I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth, determined not to cry, but the pain was overwhelming. Sondra hummed softly, clearly enjoying the power she held, and didn’t stop until my bottom was throbbing and sore.
Cathy eagerly reclaimed the paddle, her eyes shining with excitement. She trapped one of my arms behind my back, holding me firmly in place. Without warning, she began to wallop my already sore bottom, each smack landing with a sharp, fiery sting. The pain was intense, but there was a strange thrill in being so helpless, completely at her mercy. Cathy’s strokes were fast and hard, her face flushed with exertion. I could feel the heat radiating from my skin, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Despite the pain, I found myself grinning at her, sharing a secret understanding.
Sondra didn’t see my smile, and was surprised when I didn’t seem to be mad at them. I was embarrassed by how easily she had handled me, but now I understood the game. They had told the truth – getting spanked for real was what made it fun, and having a pleasantly sore bottom afterwards felt great too.
Sondra turned her back to me so I could climb off Cathy’s lap . They giggled and teased me, and I felt my face flush red, so I left the room without saying anything and shut the door behind me.
That night, Cathy told me that Sondra had thought I was a really good sport to let her paddle me. I told her I didn’t think I had any choice, and she said she knew me well enough to know I would probably like it. I admitted that I had, even though I didn’t say so at the time, but that having my sister spank me was the most fun. Cathy and I didn’t keep secrets from each other.
I could tell whenever the girls played the game after that. When Cathy seemed especially happy after coming home from being at Sondra’s house – and somewhat uncomfortable when sitting down on a hard chair – I knew what they had been doing. Memories of the sweet sharp sting of the paddle haunted me, and I realised that I envied her.
One Saturday afternoon, with the house empty, Cathy invited Sondra over. As they headed for the den, Cathy clutched Mom’s big wooden kitchen spoon, her eyes wide with anticipation. The door closed, and soon the room was filled with the sharp crack of the spoon against bare skin, mingled with laughter, protests, and squeals. The wooden spoon was heavier and more punishing than the paddle, each smack leaving a deep, aching sting. The girls took turns, their voices rising with excitement as they delivered swat after swat, the sound echoing through the house. The game was intense, and the marks left by the spoon lingered long after the laughter faded.
Soon I heard lots of laughter and protests, and threats and pleading, followed by loud spanking sounds mixed with happy cries and squeals. I tried to ignore them by watching sports on TV and reading, but I was too restless to concentrate. I wondered what it would feel like, getting spanked with that oversized spoon. I finally went to the den door and knocked. Someone said: “Come in!”
And I did.
