I Broke Curfew And Got Spanked
The last time my mother spanked me it was for breaking curfew.
It was on Sunday morning January 26th 1969; a week before I moved out of my childhood home and town to live in my own little apartment in Copenhagen and begin as an office trainee in a solicitor's office. Also exactly two weeks before I turned 18.
The night before I attended a friend's birthday party. Usually when I went to a party my mother would arrange for a taxi to pick me up and drive me home at a set time but this party was only five – ten minutes walk from my home so I was just told to be home at the latest half an hour past midnight.
I had a good time at the party and forgot the time and although I hurried and ran most of the way home when I found out that I was late and had already broken my curfew did I not arrive home before a little past 1 am. I vaguely hoped my parents were already in bed so that I could sneak in unnoticed but I was not surprised that mum met me in the hall. She did not seem very upset but looked at her wristwatch, said matter of factly that I was late and asked if I was okay. When I replied that nothing was wrong and that I had just forgotten the time she still calmly said that we would have a conversation about it in the morning but now I should go to bed.
I knew very well that the conversation we were going to have in all probability would end with mum concluding that by breaking the curfew I, either deliberately or so carelessly that it just as well could have been deliberately, had disobeyed her and deserved a sound spanking.
I tried hard to think of something to use as an explanation and excuse next morning but I could not come up with anything that would not involve lying so much that it only would make the situation worse.
Next morning at the breakfast table my parents behaved like always else. The conversation flowed easily and not even when I was asked if I had enjoyed the party was it mentioned that I had broken my curfew. But I knew that mum had not forgotten and unless I was saved by something like an earthquake my bottom would soon be emphatically spanked with mum's ebony hairbrush.
When we ended the breakfast mum told my father that she and I had something to talk about so she suggested that he went into the drawing room and read his newspaper.
As soon as we were alone mum very calmly and businesslike reminded me that I had broken my curfew last night and that I knew that this was unacceptable unless I had a very good excuse.
I could not deny this so she asked me straight out if I had such a good excuse or any excuse at all.
It was not pleasant for me to admit it but I had to say that what happened was that I had a good time so I forgot the time and I had no valid excuse but was sorry for carelessly breaking my curfew.
Mum said that she was glad that I told the truth and was sorry and then I surely also knew what had to be the consequence of my offence and what I now deserved to get.
I replied that I knew that I deserved to get a spanking. Mum nodded and said, “Yes you do”.
She told me to go up to my room, remember to pick up her hairbrush on the way and wait for her to come and spank me.
Obediently I did as I was told and I only had to wait a few minutes before mum entered my room.
We both knew the routine so all mum said when she sat down on the bed was, “come here and let us get it over with”.
I stood at her side and lifted up my skirt so she could pull down my knickers. Then I was placed across her lap, she held me with her left arm round my waist and a moment later she began spanking me with her hairbrush. She spanked hard and steadily, covered systematically my buttocks and upper thighs with hard burning smacks and made sure that not the tiniest spot was unvisited by the dreadful brush.
It was horrible; the hairbrush stung like hell, started and maintained a blaze so I was soon in unbearable pain, kicked and cried and wriggled my bottom desperately. If mum had not firmly held me with the arm round my waist I no doubt would have fallen off her lap but there was no way of escaping the endless shower of hard burning smacks that rained down on my bottom.
As always else mum did her duty as disciplinarian thoroughly and skilfully so when I later looked at my sore bottom it was purple and I was very aware of having been punished as I deserved.
It was the last spanking I got by mum. A week later I moved to Copenhagen and then there were still marks on my bottom but although I the first few years came home almost every weekend and at holidays I was never spanked by mum again. It was to begin with strange because there were several times when I did something I knew that I should have been spanked for and no doubt would have been spanked for if I had still lived at home.
My sister and I talked several times about it but we never understood why mum stopped spanking us when needed just because we no longer lived at home. Of course it was in a way a relief no longer to be sure that a spanking with the hairbrush would be the unavoidable consequence of misbehaviour but it also seemed wrong not to be spanked when deserving it. My sister trained to become a nurse and they had rules and were looked after at the nursing school but I lived on my own in a small apartment in a city with many temptations so to begin with I missed the safety mum's strict guidance and the discipline at home had provided.
It was on Sunday morning January 26th 1969; a week before I moved out of my childhood home and town to live in my own little apartment in Copenhagen and begin as an office trainee in a solicitor's office. Also exactly two weeks before I turned 18.
The night before I attended a friend's birthday party. Usually when I went to a party my mother would arrange for a taxi to pick me up and drive me home at a set time but this party was only five – ten minutes walk from my home so I was just told to be home at the latest half an hour past midnight.
I had a good time at the party and forgot the time and although I hurried and ran most of the way home when I found out that I was late and had already broken my curfew did I not arrive home before a little past 1 am. I vaguely hoped my parents were already in bed so that I could sneak in unnoticed but I was not surprised that mum met me in the hall. She did not seem very upset but looked at her wristwatch, said matter of factly that I was late and asked if I was okay. When I replied that nothing was wrong and that I had just forgotten the time she still calmly said that we would have a conversation about it in the morning but now I should go to bed.
I knew very well that the conversation we were going to have in all probability would end with mum concluding that by breaking the curfew I, either deliberately or so carelessly that it just as well could have been deliberately, had disobeyed her and deserved a sound spanking.
I tried hard to think of something to use as an explanation and excuse next morning but I could not come up with anything that would not involve lying so much that it only would make the situation worse.
Next morning at the breakfast table my parents behaved like always else. The conversation flowed easily and not even when I was asked if I had enjoyed the party was it mentioned that I had broken my curfew. But I knew that mum had not forgotten and unless I was saved by something like an earthquake my bottom would soon be emphatically spanked with mum's ebony hairbrush.
When we ended the breakfast mum told my father that she and I had something to talk about so she suggested that he went into the drawing room and read his newspaper.
As soon as we were alone mum very calmly and businesslike reminded me that I had broken my curfew last night and that I knew that this was unacceptable unless I had a very good excuse.
I could not deny this so she asked me straight out if I had such a good excuse or any excuse at all.
It was not pleasant for me to admit it but I had to say that what happened was that I had a good time so I forgot the time and I had no valid excuse but was sorry for carelessly breaking my curfew.
Mum said that she was glad that I told the truth and was sorry and then I surely also knew what had to be the consequence of my offence and what I now deserved to get.
I replied that I knew that I deserved to get a spanking. Mum nodded and said, “Yes you do”.
She told me to go up to my room, remember to pick up her hairbrush on the way and wait for her to come and spank me.
Obediently I did as I was told and I only had to wait a few minutes before mum entered my room.
We both knew the routine so all mum said when she sat down on the bed was, “come here and let us get it over with”.
I stood at her side and lifted up my skirt so she could pull down my knickers. Then I was placed across her lap, she held me with her left arm round my waist and a moment later she began spanking me with her hairbrush. She spanked hard and steadily, covered systematically my buttocks and upper thighs with hard burning smacks and made sure that not the tiniest spot was unvisited by the dreadful brush.
It was horrible; the hairbrush stung like hell, started and maintained a blaze so I was soon in unbearable pain, kicked and cried and wriggled my bottom desperately. If mum had not firmly held me with the arm round my waist I no doubt would have fallen off her lap but there was no way of escaping the endless shower of hard burning smacks that rained down on my bottom.
As always else mum did her duty as disciplinarian thoroughly and skilfully so when I later looked at my sore bottom it was purple and I was very aware of having been punished as I deserved.
It was the last spanking I got by mum. A week later I moved to Copenhagen and then there were still marks on my bottom but although I the first few years came home almost every weekend and at holidays I was never spanked by mum again. It was to begin with strange because there were several times when I did something I knew that I should have been spanked for and no doubt would have been spanked for if I had still lived at home.
My sister and I talked several times about it but we never understood why mum stopped spanking us when needed just because we no longer lived at home. Of course it was in a way a relief no longer to be sure that a spanking with the hairbrush would be the unavoidable consequence of misbehaviour but it also seemed wrong not to be spanked when deserving it. My sister trained to become a nurse and they had rules and were looked after at the nursing school but I lived on my own in a small apartment in a city with many temptations so to begin with I missed the safety mum's strict guidance and the discipline at home had provided.
