Harsh Spanking Stories

Harsh Spanking Stories

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Mrs Wilkins (parts VII, VIII and IX)

Mrs. McConnal (parts I, II, III, IV and V)

Mrs. McConnal (parts VI, VII, VIII and IX)

Mrs. McConnal (parts X, XI and XII)

Mrs. McConnal (parts XIII, XIV, XV, XVI and XVII)

Mrs. McConnal (parts XVIII, XIX, XX and XXI)

Mrs. McConnal (parts XXII, XXIII and XXIV)

Mrs. McConnal (parts XXV, XXVI, XXVII and XXVIII)

Mrs. McConnal (parts XXIX, XXX, XXXI, XXXII and XXXIII)

Mrs. McConnal (parts XXXIV, XXXV and XXXVI)

Mrs. McConnal (parts XXXVII, XXXVIII and XXXIX)

Maternal Matrimony (parts I, II, III and IV)

Maternal Matrimony (parts V, VI and VII)

Ocean (parts I, II, III, IV, V and Epilogue)

The Guest House (parts III, IV and V)

Innocentata (parts I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII and VIII)

Dog Sitting (parts I, II, III, IV and V)

Robin's Camp (parts I, II, III, IV and V)

Lisa in New Zealand (parts I, II, III and IV)

Lisa in New Zealand (parts V, VI, VII and VIII)

Lisa in New Zealand (parts IX, X and XI)

Returning (parts I, II, III and IV)

Sylvia's Mother (parts II, III and IV)

Sylvia's Mother (parts V, VI and VII)

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I was with my sisters-in-law recently – the wine was flowing pretty freely and the girl talk was starting to get naughty. My husband’s middle sister Brenda (I’ve changed all the names here, by the way) doesn’t have many inhibitions at any time and certainly not when she has been drinking.
During our chat, Brenda blurted out that she hoped that my husband could satisfy me since he had such a little dick. This is unfortunately true, but nevertheless I came to my man’s defence and insisted that he did not. Brenda replied bluntly that she knew he did, and regaled us with this spanking story from their youth…
My husband Tony is the oldest of four kids, and as the oldest he was generally very responsible and well behaved. My mother-in-law told me that he was the easiest of the four children to raise and subsequently not spanked very often. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Brenda, who is two years younger than him, was the most unruly of the four and by contrast often found herself with a sore and stinging bottom.
This story happened when Tony was 14 and Brenda was 12, and it was one of the last spankings that Tony ever got. He had returned home later than he was supposed to and then got into an argument with his mother about it. He gave her some attitude and she sentenced him to a spanking with the belt.
In the kitchen, he had to pull down his pants and underwear and then bend over and grab his knees while sticking out his butt for the spanking. Unbeknown to Tony and his mother Brenda and her friend Lisa had just come in from outside and were immediately drawn to the kitchen by the sounds of a spanking.
The two girls surreptitiously peeked around the corner and suppressed their giggles as they watched Tony getting about a dozen hard cracks with the wide leather belt. By the end, my husband-to-be was openly crying and the girls had to put their hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter.
When she was done spanking her son, my mother-in-law let him up and he immediately did the spanking dance, hopping around from foot to foot and trying to wiggle out the pain. It was while he did this that Tony unwittingly exposed his little willy to his sister and her friend, who were naturally loving every minute of it.
The girls beat a hasty retreat to Brenda’s room, where they burst into fits of laughter. Lisa, who was 13 at the time and quite a bit more worldly than her friend, said: “I can’t believe how small your brother’s dick is – he’s such a baby!”
Brenda had no point of reference for this statement – when it came to boys, she had only ever seen Tony and her much younger brother naked. Lisa assured her that Tony’s penis was very small – she had seen her brothers even her little brother was bigger than that.
After more fits of laughter, the girls decided to go and tease Tony. After some taunts about him crying, they brought up the subject of his manhood. Lisa was really mean to him, making the ‘little pinky’ sign and talking about how she was going to tell the girls at school. Tony was getting very frustrated and begging them not to do so.
Suddenly, his mom showed up – she had not heard everything but she had heard enough. She ordered both girls downstairs immediately. She phoned Lisa’s mother and described what had happened. Lisa’s mother was horrified and promised that a spanking would be applied to her bottom upon her return home, but then my mother-in-law asked if it was OK if she administered itself. Spanking other people’s children was not uncommon in those days, and Lisa’s mom told her that would be fine with her.
My mother-in-law hauled both girls out of the corner where she had placed them, and divested them of their pants and underwear. She laid into them in no uncertain terms with a lecture about respecting people’s privacy and not being mean.
Finally, she made both girls present their bottoms and spanked them both thoroughly, alternating from girl to girl in groups of three strokes. Each girl got 15 stinging swats and then did their own spanking dance. They were then made to apologise to Tony and swear that they would never mention it again.
And until that day she told me, Brenda never had!
All Maman stories are copyright, unauthorised reproduction may lead to legal action.
Maman is an adult website containing recollections of corporal punishment experienced during the contributors' childhoods. By proceeding, you are asserting that you are over the age of majority for the country in which you reside, and you further agree to the use of cookies on this website. Note that although this website contains only legal content, Maman is nevertheless a fetish site and should be considered Not Safe For Work (NSFW). Maman does not advocate corporal punishment for today's children. If you are a minor or likely to be upset by the subject matter, please do not proceed any further.

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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
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