I Broke Curfew And Got Spanked

Paying the Penalty
When I was fifteen my sisters and I had a reasonable curfew of nine pm on a school night and ten pm on a non-school night. At the time we grumbled about it, claiming that the other girls of our acquaintance could stay out as late as they wanted. But now that I reflect on it, Mom's time limits were fair and practical, especially when we had to get up for school the next day.
One Friday night I went out with some of my friends to the downtown stores. A girl's mom had driven us because we were too young to drive, and she acted as a chaperone for us because we were young girls out on the streets alone.
After shopping we all stopped in at the local pizza place and shared a "hot pie," as we called pizza in our local dialect. We were having a good time talking and laughing, so I didn't realize that the time was going on ten pm. I told my friend's mom, "I have to get home! It's going past my curfew and my Mom will be upset." That was putting it mildly. I did not tell them that I would have a spanking and enema waiting for me upon my arrival. That would be too embarrassing to discuss in public!
I lived up a country road in a big farmhouse that was about ten miles from town, so it took us a while to get there. I said goodbye to my friends, thanked the mom for driving me, and went inside to face the music. It was ten-thirty.
Mom was watching television in the living room with my two younger sisters, Gretchen and Audrey. When I came in through the front door I was greeted by Mom, who did not get out of her chair.
"Pamela Ann, did you forget to wear your watch?" She asked. She was not angry, and she did not raise her voice.
"No, Mom," I replied. "I'm wearing it."
"Maybe you should have looked at it a little more often."
"Mom," I said, "I'm really sorry. We were out having pizza and it took a while for it to be ready."
"I understand that," said Mom. "But you still came home a half-hour after you were supposed to."
"I'll be more careful next time, Mom."
Mom sighed and shook her head. She looked disappointed. "Well, Pamela Ann, you realize I have to tan your heinie."
An unpleasant prospect if there ever was one.
"I know, Mom," I admitted. "But it was only half an hour. Can't you just let it go this time? I promise I won't be late again."
"Pamela Ann, if I let it go for you then I'll have to let it go for Gretchen, and let it go for Audrey, and before you know it the three of you will be coming home at all hours. Now, would that be fair?"
I looked down at the floor and shook my head. "No, Mom--I guess it wouldn't." Then I sighed heavily and said, "Okay, I'll take my tanning. Do I have to take an enema too?"
"Of course," said Mom.
"When am I going to get it?" I asked with some trepidation.
Mom said, "How about right now?"
"Isn't it kind of late to get all that?" I reasoned.
Mom had to agree. A "tanning" in our house, with all its features of a spanking, a big enema and then a full hour of corner time, would probably take until midnight.
"Tell you what," Mom said. "I'll let you go without the Hour of Shame this time, but you'll still have to take a tanning and enema. Is that fair enough?"
"Yes, Mom," I answered. "Thank you."
Mom rose from her chair. "All right, then. Scoot to the bathroom and take out all your friends."
That was Mom's standing order to prepare for a spanking. The girl had to go down the hall to our large bathroom and take from the closet all the required tools of her punishment: The hairbrush, enema set, Vaseline to grease the nozzle, and a mesh bag of spring clothespins for pinning up her slip and skirt.


I got everything out and ready, then waited for Mom to prepare a large enema in the kitchen, listening to her run the water and mix the ingredients together with a big wooden spoon in a large pitcher. Then she came into the bathroom, followed by Gretchen and Audrey, who were required to watch the spanking.


Mom filled the enema bag with the sudsy mixture of warm soapy water and baking soda, and hung the bulging bag on the shower rod with an S hook. Then she told me to take my shoes off and stand at attention while she raised up the backs of my skirt and petti, pinned them up securely, then peeled down my pantyhose and panties to my knees. She hiked up her dress to show her girdle and stockings, then sat on the edge of the tub.
"Cross my garters please," she ordered. She seemed almost nice about it this time. I didn't know what to make of it. I lay face-down across her lap, bottom up and head down, my stockinged toes brushing the tile floor.
"Now, Pamela Ann," Mom intoned, "can you tell me why you are getting your heinie tanned?"
I answered, "Because I was late coming home."
"Here's what I'll do," Mom began. "I'm going to give you forty paddywhacks on your bare heinie. But instead of your Hour of Shame I'm going to give you ten more on the backs of your thighs. Your attitude was very good and I know you realize you did wrong. Is that fair to you?"
"Yes, Mom," I said. "Thank you."
"All right then. Which cheek would you like slapped first?"
"My left cheek," I answered in a shaky voice.
I felt Mom place the wooden hairbrush gently on my left bun. Then I felt a sharp sting that made me gasp.
"One!" I called out. We were required to count our spanks aloud.
Mom's method was to spank one cheek five times, then move on to its twin and spank it five times. This really produced heat in the seat!
Again the brush came down. "Two!" I called.
None of us made it to twenty without crying. I broke down on spank number eighteen.
"Ah-hooo!" I sobbed. "Nineteen!" and again the spanking brush descended. "Oooh! Twenty!"
At long last I counted out paddywhack number forty, and my two simmering cheeks were allowed to cool down.
"Ready for your thigh slaps?" asked Mom.
"Yes, Mom," I sniffled. I knew these were really going to hurt.
Slap! on the back of my left leg. "Woww! Forty-one!" I cried. Then Slap! on my right leg. "Owww-wooo!! Forty-two--oh, it hurts! It hurts!" I wailed. My sisters stood in shocked silence as they watched my bare legs turn red.
Finally spank number fifty landed on my right ham hock, and I sighed with relief. My entire back end was roasting.
"Thank you for tanning my heinie!" I blubbered as required, and then I lay there sobbing, waiting for Mom to pry apart my spanked cheeks for the enema.


But she didn't.
"Get on your feet," she ordered.
I lifted myself painfully off Mom's gartered stocking-tops and stood there confused.
"Pamela Ann, you were very cooperative, and in view of the fact that your tardiness was not entirely your fault, I'm going to forgive you the enema. But--!" she continued, "you could have made a phone call when you saw the time. Keep that in mind for the next time, because now that you know what to do I will have no choice but to give you an enema and the Hour of Shame."
"Thank you, Mom!" I sobbed. And I meant it. After all the enemas I had received, I knew she was doing me a very big favor!
Mom stood up and unclipped the clothespins from my waistband, allowing my skirt and lacy half-slip to fall back into place. I gasped as the satiny slip touched my reddened heinie.
"Now," Mom concluded, "get up to bed!"
Mom had been surprisingly lenient with me, but of course she could not just let me go without at least a hairbrushing. And it was a good lesson for my sisters as well. When Mom said to be in by ten, she did not mean ten-thirty!