I stopped spanking Mary-Ann when she was nine, and not because she was too old.

You often hear parents brag about how good their kids are and that they only need little reminders. Well, not Mary-Ann. She was truly a handful, and needed spankings once a week on average.

She accepted the spankings as a part of growing up. I would take her to her bedroom, or mine, and place her across my lap to smack her bottom soundly. It was over quickly.

But she seemed to be forgetting too soon, and I realized how perhaps I should make it more formal, more ritualized, and harder. So at seven I graduated her to a small stingy paddle and carried out spankings in my study with long scoldings and corner time. The smacks increased, her cries increased, but the overall number of punishments remained the same. I was at a loss.

I figured it all out one afternoon when Mary-Ann’s best friend was over. The girls were playing on the living room floor when I got a call from school. I was told off yet again from the VP reporting Mary-Ann’s disruptive behavior in class, bullying, and a longer list of calamities. I was used to it, but this was the last straw for them and they had decided to expel her.

I must confess I saw red. I should have waited at least until the evening, but I didn’t. Unbuckling my belt, I went for my daughter and pulled her up to her feet. I asked what had happened at school and why she’d kept it from me. She just shrugged.

Still angry, I grabbed her arm and took her to her bedroom. There she was bared and upended over my raised knee. I leathered her bottom and thighs long and hard with the belt until she was screaming and promising to be real good.

Eventually I put her down and said we’d be having many more discussions about this. Mary-  Ann just nodded and went to collect her shorts and panties she’d kicked off during the whipping. She stifled yelps as she put them back on, then dried her tears and went back to the living room.

That’s when the realization hit me: she sat down and resumed playing immediately, smiling, even as her friend asked:

“I’m sorry you got it. Did it hurt a lot...?”

“Whatcha talking about? Dad just yelled and I yelled back. C’mon, your turn.”

Maybe she was just trying to look cool, but, could it be instead that my daughter simply *removed* every spanking taken from her mind as soon as it was over? I can’t explain such complete denial otherwise.

Had I been wrong all along? Not sure. But as I put my belt back on, I decided that would be her last spanking. And ironically things started to get better after that. But that’s another story.

– The End –

This story does not necessarily represent the author’s point of view about anything. It is simply a work of fiction . The characters herein portrayed are invented and do not resemble reality to the best of the author’s knowledge. This account is entirely fictitious . Any similarities to other persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

This story is written for the sane amusement of adult readers. It does not intend harm and does not promote violence of any kind, including spanking. No offence is meant to any group, ethnicity or individuals.

The author does in no way endorse the non-consensual disciplinary spanking of actual children and / or teenagers.

Copyright © 2005 Haley Brimley . Contact for information and / or feedback.