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Subject: Re: Spanking on the genitals
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Date Posted: 14:19:47 02/20/13 Wed



Carolyn, sorry for the delay in replying, my sister just told me about your post. I am a senior adult now. After my sixth birthday but before my seventh, my mother stopped spanking my rear. My mother, aunt, and sister (when she was old enough) took to spanking my penis and testicles. Mom only spanked my testicles once, and my penis about half a dozen times, by then my sister was old enough and as our mom worked out, the chore was delegated to my sister. My aunts preferred method was to place my flaccid penis across the palm of one hand and spanked with the fingers of the other hand. As I grew older we moved away from my aunt (3 doors down) and my sister had the full responsibility. When I was younger, her usual method was to just slap the top of my flaccid penis with her finger while I was standing. When an erection was a problem, she would use a fly swatter. She used short strokes, side to side on both sides, while I was standing in front of her seated in the living room. After puberty, the embarrassment was worse the the discomfort. Sometimes I was left a bit pink to red but it quickly faded. I was never bruised, cut, or scratched.
For my opinion, I think it was better then the wooden spoon on my rear (that did leave marks). The discomfort is greater on the genitals (remember to use much less force). The fly swatter stung like the dickens and did little, if any, damage to the skin. When my sister discovered it was worse, she started using it even when I was flaccid. It doesn't take many strokes either. 10 to 20 was the usual, and spaced 6 to 8 seconds apart.
I should add: I was usually grounded first, if that didn't do it, I would be spanked.
Hope this was helpful.


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[> Subject: Re: Spanking on the genitals




Date Posted: 09:55:05 03/05/13 Tue




My mother, aunt,
>and sister (when she was old enough) took to spanking
>my penis and testicles.

Taking boys' pants down and spanking back and front was not uncommon. When my sitter had jobs sitting neighborhood boys, she also had to keep an eye on her little sister, so she was always around, and one of my rules was not to play with my front parts. I remember her sister saw me one day, and smarmy-like told her "He's playing with his front parts". She came in and saw the front of my pajamas sticking fully straight out. She tugged them right down. I frantically said "I was only scratching my balls, and I couldn't stop." She said "You've been told, you are not supposed to play with these"smacksmacksmacksmacksmack... "Waaaaah!I won't do it again, I promise." Her sister was laughing, she thought it was hysterical--she knew she had gotten me good.

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Date Posted: 11:02:07 03/08/13 Fri




to finish up, when she finished the spanking, she reached down and grabbed the waistband of my winter knit pajamas, and pulled them back up, and of course it went right behind my sore peepee, my sore nuts, ouch! So she puts everything back into my pajamas and turns and pats her little sister on the head and says good job! What did she mean by good job? All she did was snitch, and then watch. I don't think she should get praise. As soon as she told her good job and left the room, her pipsqueak baby sister with the brown nose pointed right at the outline of my peepee and said "don't touch that, or you'll get another spanking". I really needed to rub down there, like it was an itch I guess, and I didn't dare at all, because I couldn't risk getting the spanking again. She was probably used to it all, but when I got spanked, I sure didn't like that she was always around. I thought I was too old to be spanked, but I'm sure she loved it. Though it wasn't as bad as when some new neighbor or classmate might happen to be over, they went crazy.

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[> Subject: Re: Spanking on the genitals




Date Posted: 15:16:08 03/08/13 Fri




Thank you very much Tony and Johnny for sharing with us your experiences.

Suzie


>Carolyn, sorry for the delay in replying, my sister
>just told me about your post. I am a senior adult
>now. After my sixth birthday but before my seventh,
>my mother stopped spanking my rear. My mother, aunt,
>and sister (when she was old enough) took to spanking
>my penis and testicles. Mom only spanked my testicles
>once, and my penis about half a dozen times, by then
>my sister was old enough and as our mom worked out,
>the chore was delegated to my sister. My aunts
>preferred method was to place my flaccid penis across
>the palm of one hand and spanked with the fingers of
>the other hand. As I grew older we moved away from my
>aunt (3 doors down) and my sister had the full
>responsibility. When I was younger, her usual method
>was to just slap the top of my flaccid penis with her
>finger while I was standing. When an erection was a
>problem, she would use a fly swatter. She used short
>strokes, side to side on both sides, while I was
>standing in front of her seated in the living room.
>After puberty, the embarrassment was worse the the
>discomfort. Sometimes I was left a bit pink to red
>but it quickly faded. I was never bruised, cut, or
>scratched.
>For my opinion, I think it was better then the wooden
>spoon on my rear (that did leave marks). The
>discomfort is greater on the genitals (remember to use
>much less force). The fly swatter stung like the
>dickens and did little, if any, damage to the skin.
>When my sister discovered it was worse, she started
>using it even when I was flaccid. It doesn't take
>many strokes either. 10 to 20 was the usual, and
>spaced 6 to 8 seconds apart.
>I should add: I was usually grounded first, if that
>didn't do it, I would be spanked.
>Hope this was helpful.

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I grew up in the 1980s and 1990s, and while spanking was, I think, still in common practice in my neighborhood, it had already gotten a certain stigma attached to it, mainly from well-intentioned liberals who could not differentiate between abuse and discipline that came from a loving place. My folks were, and are, progressive liberals with strong social consciences, but they also are very old-fashioned in their beliefs on raising kids.
All of us, I am the oldest of four, with a younger sister and two younger brothers, were spanked into our mid-teens. To be clear, our parents were heavily involved in our lives and provided, sometimes at great sacrifice from them, all that we could ask, both materially and emotionally. We were always cared for and knew that we were loved. Equally, they were clear on expectations and consequences, and there was no ambiguity or inconsistency in either.
As I said, the stigma attached to parental spanking meant that it was not discussed in the open and never outside the family. I often felt like I was the only teen in the world who was still getting her bare bottom spanked, and that often felt very lonely and isolating. It was comforting, at least, that I had a set of cousins, the children of my mom’s sister, who also grew up in a spanking household and whose parents shared the same views on it as my parents did.

There were six kids in that house: My cousin, Judith, known as Judi, was a couple months older than me. We were, and are, extremely close and often shared our experiences and feelings on being spanked and were frequent consolers, each of the other. I got my last spanking at 16 1/2, but Judi was still getting them as a high school senior. Judi is actually my uncle’s niece. My aunt and uncle took her in when she was 8 or 9 and formally adopted her when she was 10 (long story). She grew up in that house and thinks of my aunt and uncle as her parents. The oldest of my aunt and uncle’s biological kids are twins, Jackson and Jordan, two years younger than Judi, followed closely by Julia, a year younger, and Jason, a year younger than Julia. My aunt and uncle later added another boy, Jeremiah, who is about 5 years younger than Jason.
Like my mom, my aunt was a first-response spanker. Though she tended to let more things slide than my mom did, probably because of the sheer number of kids there, spankings were not rare there, and, unlike my house, were always done in the open in front of whatever family happened to be there. With the exception of the youngest boy, I’d seen each of my cousins on the receiving end at least once, bent over getting the paddle applied to their bare bottoms. My aunt also believed in ‘while you are a guest here, I expect you to follow the rules’ and I had found myself in that bent-over position a handful of times when I stayed there over the years.
When this recollection took place, I was 18, already married, and living with my husband in a studio apartment over my in-laws’ garage. My mom called me on a Friday and asked if I wanted to spend the weekend at her house. My husband was in the Reserves and was away on some training exercise. At first, I thought she wanted to offer me some company so I wouldn’t be all by myself, and while that may have been in true in part, I came to find out she was watching three of my cousins that weekend, in addition to my youngest brother, so perhaps she may also have been looking for reinforcements.
The twins, who were around 15, were on a travel hockey team and my aunt and uncle were chaperones at some tournament taking place over the border in Canada. My dad was there too, because the older of my younger brothers was on a team in a different age division. My sister was on a sleepover, so that left my brother Patrick, who was 10, Julia, who was 14, Jason, who was 13, and Jeremiah, who was 8, for my mother to corral.
The evening started out well. Though I was not of legal age, mom let me drink while I was there, and I was enjoying some sparkling wine. Mom was making pasta with meatballs, a favourite of the kids. My little brother seemed to be enjoying having Jeremiah around, maybe because it meant he was not the youngest for a change.
That left Julia and Jason. Julia was in the midst of her young teen girl ennui and everything in her body language, tone and expression said she wanted to be anywhere else but where she was. I tried to engage her, but the monosyllabic responses I was getting caused me to throw in the towel. Jason was always moody and sullen, even on a good day, and his mood that night was apparently compounded because he was missing out on some outing with his school buddies. His face was planted into the screen of the Gameboy he brought with him and he barely acknowledged anyone else’s existence.
My mom called everyone down for dinner around 5. And while Patrick and Jeremiah were eager eaters and answered the bell the first time, it took some additional cajoling to get Julia and Jason to the kitchen table. Julia was playing the ‘I’m not hungry’ card and asked to be excused. Mom was being unusually patient, but shot down the request with a terse: “No. If you don’t want to eat, fine, but you can stay here until we have.” That engendered a huff and some mumbles that, again, mom let pass, although I could sense her growing agitation.
Perhaps as a passive aggressive way to get herself away from the table, Julia started fussing with Jason, whom she was seated next to. First, she said she wanted the Gameboy after dinner. That started an argument over what their mom had said about sharing it. My mom refereed that one, and the table fell silent for a few moments.
Then Julia piped up that Jason was kicking her under the table. Jason said he wasn’t. Then Julia told Jason to move over and stop crowding her, punctuating the request with an elbow to Jason’s ribs. Mom intervened again, telling them both to knock it off and settle down.
The snipping and sniping kept up in muted tones for a few more minutes before erupting again when Julia shrieked: “STOP KICKING ME!” and thrust another elbow into Jason. He, in turn, slapped her forearm and she made the move to slap him back. Their voices were raised and there were several words used by both that definitely were not table appropriate.
I can’t say for sure exactly what happened next, but in the scrum that ensued, someone’s hand made contact with the glass milk pitcher on the table, tipping it over onto a porcelain salad bowl. The collision broke the handle of the pitcher, put a significant chip in the bowl, sent salad flying and sent a gusher of milk spilling across the table. Mom jumped up and shooed everyone away from the table in case there was any broken glass. Then, very calmly, she took command of the clean-up, dispatching me for paper towels, clearing away broken dishes and inspecting floor and table for any stray shards. Satisfied, she turned her attention to Julia and Jason, who were standing a few feet away against a wall.
To say their demeanors had changed would be mass understatement. The petulance and sullenness had been replaced by shock and fear. Julia, especially, was trembling and there were tears in her eyes. Mom pointed at her.
“I want you to go upstairs to the closet in the hall and bring down the paddle that’s in there,” she said.
Julia dissolved into sobs and began begging forgiveness.
“It’s too late for that, young lady. I warned you both and now there are going to be consequences.”
She turned to Jason and told him to take one of the kitchen chairs and place it in the middle of the room. Julia returned moments with the paddle, a firm plywood ping-pong paddle that had the rubber removed from one side which had then been sanded and varnished. Julia shakily handed over the paddle to mom.
Mom sat in the chair and had Julia and Jason stand side by side. By this time, the other boys and I had returned to the table and were about 6 feet from where Julia and Jason stood. My mother waved the paddle at both.
“I warned you both. Get those down,” she said, pointing at the sweatpants both were wearing. Now, just as in my house, every spanking at my aunt’s house was given on a bare bottom. Being told to take down pants meant both pants and underwear. It was implicit.
Jason made a sour look, but knew protest was futile and made short work of hiking down sweatpants and boxer briefs to his knees in one motion. Julia, meantime, had dissolved into a fresh set of tears. She gingerly lowered her sweatpants to mid-thigh but stood almost paralyzed in her blue cotton panties with yellow butterflies.
“Quit stalling,” mom snapped, eliciting more crying.
Finally, Julia nervously and slowly shucked down her panties so they joined her pants. Instinctively, she covered her front side with her hands, but mom rebuked her.
Jason and Julia stood to mom’s right, hands at side and heads down, avoiding eye contact.
“Look at me,” mom snapped. “Get your heads up so I can look you in the eye.”
With that, the pre-spanking lecture began in earnest, an event that always seemed longer to me when I was a feature player and not just a spectator. My own experience with mom’s lengthy and elaborate spanking routine had found this part to be the worst of the whole ordeal, even beyond the physical discomfort of the pending spanking. The pre-spanking lecture while you stood there exposed was the ultimate in embarrassment, especially on those occasions where it was witnessed by others.
I had not seen either of these two s
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