Hot Mild Teaches Blondie Her Ways

Hot Mild Teaches Blondie Her Ways

This is a work of fiction and is not based on real people or the author's actual
experiences.

The author does not believe that children should be spanked. This fictional
account is not an endorsement of spanking children. Only consenting adults
should be spanked.

If you are obsessed with spanking, you may like this story. If you don't share this
obsession, you would probably be happier reading something else.

Although there was nothing sexual in the corporal punishment I received from my parents,
the fact that someone loved me, was giving me attention and cared enough about my behavior
to take such measures to correct it was a genuine comfort. A sense of relief follows, a feeling
of having paid for my crimes and been washed clean again.

Fantasies of a Young Submissive by Rosaleen Young, Chimera Books

Although as an adult I have moved away from Alabama, both physically and intellectually, that is where I
grew up.
My mother and father met while working at the NASA Space Flight Center in Huntsville. My father had a
Phd in
electrical engineering and my mother had a Phd in physics. In short, they were both rocket scientists.

My mother had me a couple of years after they got married. She took a brief leave at the end of her
pregnancy and
during the first few weeks after I arrived. But then she returned to work.

About a year after I was born, my father founded a company that did underground mapping for the oil
industry.
In the early days, when the company was struggling, my mother's salary at NASA supported the family.

As the company my father founded grew, my mother started working there too. When I was about four my
father was killed in an oil field accident. My mother was devastated, but she took over as CEO of the
company and still runs the company today.

Like most parents in Alabama at the time, my mother was a firm believer in the effectiveness of spanking
when
it came to raising
well behaved children. From about the age of three I got spanked whenever I misbehaved. At first the
spankings
were just a few smacks on the bare bottom. As I got older I got spanked over my mothers knee or, when I
was a
teenager, bent over the end of my bed.

Alabama is spanking country. When I was growing up,
all of the children I knew were spanked when they were naughty. Paddles and punishment straps were
passed
down from one generation to the next. When one of my mother's friends was getting ready to spank
her daughter, she commented to my mother that she had been spanked by her mother with
the same paddle she was going use to spank her daughter.
To this day spanking is allowed in Alabama schools.

I sometimes played with a girl a few houses away. We
would go to the playground and sometimes we would play
house. One of us would play the parent and the other
would play the child. Spankings were often part of our
role play. This seemed natural, since all of the
children we knew were spanked when they were naughty.

Sometimes my friends would recount spankings they had
gotten the previous day. I would listen with rapt
attention, trying to get them to provide as much detail
as possible.

My mother was someone who was always in control of her emotions. Perhaps this is what helped her
continue
after my father died. I'm sure that this was also useful when she was raising me, since I was what the
other mother's described as a "handful".

Without a "man in the house" raising a boy, I think that my mother felt that she had to be a strict
disciplinarian
and I was spanked frequently. She was never angry when she spanked me, even when I gave
her reason to be.

When I misbehaved I remember my mother calmly discussing how my
behavior was unacceptable. She always asked why I had behaved that
way. Usually my response was to look down at my toes and answer "I
don't know". Then my mother would tell me that she was going to
give me a spanking.

While I was protesting and promising to be a good boy, my mother
would undo my pants and pull my briefs down to my knees. If I had
been especially naughty and I knew that I was in for a hard
spanking, I might already be crying when my mother put me over
her knee for a bare bottom spanking.

Lying over my mother's knee, I was braced against her hip as she
held me firmly with her left arm. I knew that I had been naughty
and this felt comforting, at least until my mother started spanking
me, when all I could think about was how my bottom felt like it was
on fire.

My mother always spanked me until my bottom was red and I was sobbing as I
lay over her knee. When the spanking was over, she would help
me stand up and pull up my underpants and pants. Then she would
hold me and tell me that she loved me until I stopped crying.

When I was younger my mother spanked me as soon as possible after I misbehaved. I
would often get spanked in the kitchen or my mother would march me upstairs to my
room for a spanking.

I remember one time when we were visiting a friend of my mother's I
misbehaved and my mother took me into her friend's guest room,
pulled down my pants and proceeded to give me a spanking.

When I got older my mother spanked me at bed time. When she told me
to get ready for bed, she would add "I'll be up in a little while
to give you your spanking".

I would go upstairs, take a shower and brush my teeth. I would not
put on my pajamas if I was going to get a spanking, but just
put on a clean pair of briefs.
Then I would sit on the edge of my bed
waiting for the sound of my mother walking upstairs.

She would sit on the side of the bed and I
would have to stand in front of her while my mother talked to me
about my behavior. If I gave more than a "I don't know" response,
she always listened to me. In a few cases when I explained my side
of what happened, she decided not to spank me. Those cases were
rare, since she almost always had a good reason to warm my
bottom.

When the discussion was over my mother would tell me to pull down
my pants, before bending me over her knee. Baring my bottom
for my spanking showed that I accepted my punishment. On the few
occasions when I protested and refused to pull my pants down, I got
extra spanking.

When my mother finished spanking me, she would hold me until I stopped crying
and tuck me into bed.

Soon after my eighth birthday, I did something to earn a spanking. At bed time, when my mother came up
to my bedroom
to spank me, she had a paddle in her hand. The paddle was about the size of a
ping-pong paddle, but was made of dark hardwood. This was a spanking implement that I would come to know
well in the
coming years.

When my mother sat down on the bed she put the paddle down next to her. Standing in front of her as she
discussed the reasons for my impending spanking, I could not take my eyes off the paddle. My mother
explained
that I was older now and she expected better behavior. Now if I misbehaved I would be spanked
with the paddle.

When "the talk" was done, I reluctantly pulled my pants down and bent over my mother's knee. She held
me
tightly over her knee and started spanking me with the paddle. I was shocked by how much the paddle
hurt. It hurt
much more than the hand spankings I had gotten up till then. Soon I was sobbing as the paddle punished
by bare bottom.
The paddling seemed to last a long time, but it was probably over sooner than a hand spanking since my
the paddle
reddened my bottom more quickly.

I cried for a long time as my mother held me before tucking me into bed.

After the paddling I was on my best behavior for a couple of weeks. Knowing that if I misbehaved I would
be
get another session over my mother's knee with the paddle did modify my behavior and my spankings became
more
infrequent.

After my thirteenth birthday a spanking strap was added to my mother's disciplinary arsenal. There was a
saddle maker in town who had a side business making paddles and punishment straps. The strap my mother
purchased was eighteen inches long and made from harness leather. It had a wooden handle, which allowed
the strap
to be applied forcefully across my bottom.

The strap appeared without prior warning, just as the paddle had when I was eight. One night, at bed
time,
I was undressed to my briefs, waiting in my bedroom
for a well deserved spanking. When my mother came in to give me my spanking,
I saw that she had the paddle that I was expecting to be spanked with and the punishment strap.

After the usual pre-spanking talk, I pulled down my pants and bent over my mother's knee. I knew that
I deserved a hard paddling and this is exactly what my mother gave me.
When the paddling ended, I lay sobbing like a little boy over her knee.

When I stood up I discovered that my spanking was not over. Instead of holding me and comforting me, my
mother
bent me over the end of the bed with a pillow under my hips pushing my bottom up.

My mother told me that now that I was thirteen I would be whipped when I deserved it.
Because this was my first whipping, I would only get ten strokes, but in the future I could
expect more.

"The strap is going to hurt, but I expect you to show remorse and take your punishment", my mother told
me. "If
you get up, I will start over. If you try to cover your bottom or you move out of position, I will add
an
extra stroke to your punishment. Is that clear?", my mother asked.

I was still crying when I answered "Yes, Ma'am".

My mother told me to push my bottom up. I arched my back and presented by bottom for the strap.
As I waited for the first stroke of the strap, I missed the comfort of my mother's embrace when
she spanked me over her knee.

The strap cracked hard across by bottom, followed immediately by a deep burning pain. My bottom was
already
sore from the paddling and it was all I could do to stay still for the next stroke.

After taking the second stroke, I pushed into the bed, clenching my bottom against the pain and my
mother
ordered me to push my bottom up. When my buttocks where properly positioned, my mother brought the strap
down
hard across the lower part of my cheeks, just above my thighs. I cried out, jumped up and rubbed my
bottom.

"What did I say would happen if you got up?", my mother asked calmly.

"That you would start over", I answered between sobs. "Please, Ma'am... I couldn't help it. It hurts
so much."

"Spankings are supposed to hurt and we both know that you deserve a long hard spanking. Now bend over
the bed".

When I first bent over the end of the bed my briefs were around my knees.
When I stood up, they fell around my ankles and I kicked them off as I danced around rubbing
my bottom. I was naked when I bent over the end of the bed again to take my whipping.

"Now stay still and take your punishment, Honey", my mother told me. "If you had stayed in position
you would be getting your forth stroke. But now we are going to have to start again at one."

After I pushed my bottom up, my mother brought the strap down hard across my buttocks. I managed to
stay bent over the end of the bed, although my mother had to remind me to push my bottom up every
few strokes. She added extra strokes when I rolled to my side after two especially painful strokes.

When my whipping was over my mother held me until I stopped crying and then tucked me in bed like a
little boy. My bottom was still very sore the next day and the welts from the strap took a few days
to fade.

I misbehaved a lot that year. My mother was working long hours running
her company and perhaps I was trying to get attention. I think that she understood this and tried to
spend time with me on the weekends. What ever the reason, I earned a whipping almost every week
for about six months.

Most of the time my mother would paddle me over her knee before bending me over the end of the bed to
finish
my punishment with a whipping. If my behavior had been especially egregious my mother would skip
the paddling, bend me over the bed and give me a long whipping of forty strokes or more.

When I had to take a whipping, I learned to lie still over the end of the bed with my bottom pushed up,
presented for punishment, to avoid getting extra strokes or worse, starting the whipping over.

Soon after my mother took over the company my father founded, she hired a full time nanny who I called
Ms. Susan. Ms. Susan looked after me when I came home from school and worked with my mother to monitor
my
school work. She also did the grocery shopping and cooking on weekdays (she had weekends off). When ever
possible my mother was home for dinner and the three of us ate together.

When my mother was looking for a nanny, one of her requirements was that the nanny would be willing to
spank me when necessary. Ms. Susan grew up taking care of three younger brothers. She told
my mother that she often had to spank one or more of her brothers. On a few occasions, when they all
misbehaved, she lined them up, youngest to oldest and spanked all three of them. After
her three brothers, she didn't think that she would have any problem warming my bottom when necessary.

I often felt like I grew up with two mothers. Both Ms. Susan and my mother kept a close eye on my school
work. For minor misbehavior Ms. Susan would take me to my room, pull my pants down and spank me.
However,
if I had done something more serious she would talk to my mother about what I had done. Sometimes my
mother would ask Ms. Susan to give me a spanking, but more often my mother would spank me
at bedtime.

If my mother was traveling on business Ms. Susan would take care of me. I learned to be on my best
behavior.
Raising three rambunctious brothers had made Ms. Susan an accomplished spanker. When I got old enough
for
whippings I discovered that Ms. Susan's skill with the punishment strap resulted in some very memorable
spankings.

Both my mother and father had PhDs, so education was very important to my mother. I went to private
schools
that were noted for their academic excellence. As was common at the time in Alabama, the schools I
attended
practiced corporal punishment and misbehaving students could expect a spanking.

In elementary school spankings where almost always administered by teachers. If we talked in class or
were caught
passing notes or did not complete an assignment, we had to stay after class for a spanking. If you were
the
only student kept after class, the spanking was administered as soon as the other students left the
classroom.
If more than one student was getting spanked, one student was kept in the classroom while the others
waited
their turn in the hall. This made the spanking even worse, since those of us who were waiting could hear
the
spanking being administered in the classroom. When the spanking ended the student would exit the
classroom,
face wet with tears, rubbing their bottom. Then one of our names would be called.

In my elementary school all of the teachers were women. Spankings were given on the bare bottom,
with the student bent over their teacher's knee. In most cases we got hand spankings, but if the student

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