Home punishments (boys 2)

 

Southern USA, middle of 60s to middle of 70s

(thanks, Peter)

 

"I grew up in the Southern part of the U.S. where corporal punishment was standard.

Most of the whippings I received were for talking back or being sassy. My father whipped me until the age of about 17.

I was told to take off all my clothes and lie face down on my bed. I was always completely naked for each whipping.

Then my father would go to his room and get the razor strop, or go outside and prepare a switch, which he would break off the shrubbery, stripping the leaves off the branch before applying it to my naked butt and legs.

When he came back to my room, he "came in whipping", so to speak. He never closed the door to my room so the whipping and my screaming could be heard all over the house.

He whipped mostly my buttocks and legs but would occasionally whip my back also. As he whipped and I screamed and cried, he would scold me for my infraction. I do not know how many strokes I got and I don't think that he ever counted them. He simply whipped me until he tired of it.

When he finished the whipping, it was corner time!

It was, for me, the worst part of the punishment. My father made me stand, naked, in the corner with my nose on the wall until I stopped crying or until he said so. This was horrible for me because anyone in the house could see me, including my brother and sister, both of whom were younger, making my corner time even more humiliating.

Peter"

Published: 08/27/04

 

 

Barcelona, Spain, middle 60s to 70s

(original in Spanish, gracias, Felipe)

 

"At home, a spanking was a common and usual punishment, especially for my brother and me, even when my sister was not immune to this chastisement.

 

I remember being punished by spanking from very young, because even then I received some sporadic slaps, probably just over the diapers, but it wasn’t until I was five or six that I knew what a proper spanking was.

 

The “ceremony” was very simple, my father or, more frequently, my mother, sat down on a chair, a couch or the bed, took down to my thighs my pants and my underwear (or the pajama or the swimsuit, depending on my clothing). Then they would put me on their knees, and gave me an undetermined number of slaps, rarely less than a dozen, and sometimes almost a hundred.

 

If lucky, I was punished with the hand, but most times, it was with a sneaker (especially by my mother, who said that her hand hurt when hitting me). Anyway, I can tell you that I didn’t endure too much without crying and asking for forgiveness, promising, but in vain, not to repeat the fault, and I left my father’s or mother’s lap rubbing frantically a butt redder than a ripe tomato. 

 

Usually, after the spanking, I was sent to my room for some time, or, if by night, to bed. The matter wasn’t talked again but for threatening me if I misbehaved, reminding me how they had left my buttocks the last time.

 

And, even if they never spanked me publicly (but for a couple of slaps over my trousers), they never saved me the humiliation and embarrassment of threats or more or less graphic or explicit reminders with no care about who could hear them.

Felipe"

Published: 08/27/04