I Spanked My Kids
]essica Goes On the Spanking Stool
I have triplet daughters, Jennifer, Jessica and Renee. They are fraternal, so although they look somewhat alike they can easily be told apart. Jessica seemed to be the one who got in most trouble, but I must say they were all very good girls and did not have to be spanked often.
When they were young teens they had a curfew. I thought this was fair, because I wanted to know where my children were and what they were doing. They were either fourteen or fifteen when Jessica decided one night to hang out with her friends down the road. I didn't mind that, but I told her to be home at eleven because she had to walk home and I didn't want her strolling alone down a dark country road late at night. I set the curfew time at eleven pm, which I thought reasonable enough for a young teen to be out, even if it was Friday night and no school the next day.
Eleven came and went. Then midnight came and went. I began to be concerned.
Just as I was about to call her friend's mom (and of course embarrass the life out of Jess!) I heard the key rattle in the front door, and Jessica came in. She could see that I was none too pleased.
"And where were you all this time?" I asked none too gently.
"Well, you know I was at Amber's house," Jessica said.
"Yeah, I know that much," I replied. "What time were you supposed to be home?"
"Eleven."
"And what time is it now?"
"Twelve thirty."
"And," I asked, "what were you doing all this time?" I tried not to raise my voice because her father and sisters were sleeping, and her father had to get up for work on Saturday.
"Just hanging out," said Jess. "I didn't notice the time. I'm sorry."
"Sorry won't do, Jessica. Tomorrow morning you're getting twenty lashes!"
Jessica lowered her eyes and said, "Okay, Mom." She knew the drill. She would have to bend over our family Spanking Stool, bare her bottom, and receive twenty licks with the antique razor strop that my husband kept on his shaving table. Although such a spanking was very humiliating, Jessica knew that I really didn't hit very hard, and used the strop more for effect than pain. The two straps, one behind the other, slapped together and made a loud whacking sound, but the resulting sting on the girl's bare heinie was minimal. Still, my girls didn't want to go through the ritual because it was inconvenient and made them feel plain silly.
"You know I don't like you walking down that road late at night. It can be dangerous. Did you at least take your flashlight with you?"
"Yes, Mom." Jess reached into her jacket pocket and waved the small flashlight at me.
"All right then, get up to bed. The only reason I don't spank you right now is because I don't want to wake up the house. Besides," I concluded, "I'm pretty upset right now, as you can imagine!"
I followed the example of my Mom by never spanking in anger. If Mom's spankings seemed ceremonial, part of the reason was to allow her a cooling-down period. Mom had spanked me in anger once, and as a result I could not sit for over a week. I never wanted to do that to my own girls.
The next morning Jennifer and Renee were still in bed, and my husband had left for work at his Adult Education class. I made myself comfortable in a living room chair to read the morning paper. An early riser, I had already dressed myself in my usual skirt and top (Yes, I wear skirts on Saturday). I heard some noises in the kitchen, but did not pay much attention because I figured one of the girls was rummaging for breakfast.
Then Jessica appeared beside me, which startled me a bit. She was dressed in a t-shirt and panties, with bare legs and feet, her usual sleepwear.
"Mom?" she said. I looked up from my paper. "I'm ready for my whipping now."
I rose from the easy chair and followed her into the kitchen. There in the middle of the floor was the Spanking Stool, a tall wooden barstool with flat rungs and a square seat. On the seat Jessica had placed the formidable-looking leather razor strop. To my surprise she had set up for her own spanking without being told. Jess walked around to the back of the stool and stood behind it. Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down to her knees.
"Okay, Mom," she said.
I picked up the strop from the stool seat and held it in my hand, swinging it lightly back and forth.
"Mount up," I ordered.
Jess hopped up on the lowest rung and bent all the way forward, grasping the other bottom rung in front. Then she flexed her knees and dipped her back, making her bare bottom bulge out as an unobstructed target.
I walked around behind her to administer the whipping. "That was fifteen lashes, right, Jess?" I asked.
Jessica's head was pointing down to the linoleum floor. "No, Mom," she answered. "It was twenty."
I was stunned. At that moment I was so proud of my daughter's honesty that I wanted to take her off the Spanking Stool and just put my arms around her. But we both knew that justice had to be served.
"I know I was wrong to come home so late," Jessica admitted. "And I promise from now on I'll keep better track of the time." I believed her, but I also knew that both her sisters had taken a few rides on the Spanking Stool for committing the same offense. But Jess seemed pretty contrite.
I reached out and patted her nubile heinie with my free hand. "Stick it out more," I said. Jess thrust out her bare bottom as far as she could.
"Okay, ready?" I asked.
"Ready, Mom," came Jessica's reply.
Slap! went the strop. The two straps hit each other and made a loud report.
Jessica let out a little sigh and counted "One!"
Slap! "Two!" Slap! "Three!" Jessica did not cry. The girls' whippings were at best an annoyance, and the strop rarely, if ever, wrenched tears from them. I kept an eye on her hind end. It was blushing lightly, but without any real damage.
Of course I could have rewarded Jessica's honesty by giving her fifteen lashes instead of the full count of twenty, but the whipping was so relatively painless that five more lashes would have made very little difference.
Slap! "Sixteen!"
Slap! "Seventeen!"
Slap! "Eighteen!" This was followed by a little "Ooh!" like a barely audible sigh. I checked Jessica's heinie. It was pink but there was no sign of stripes or welts.
Slap! "Nineteen!"
And at last, Slap! "Twenty!"
To make my girls feel extra foolish, I instructed them to say the same words my sisters and I had to say to our Mom after a good hairbrushing.
"Thank you for tanning my heinie."
"Dismount and pull up," I directed. Jess hopped down from the Spanking Stool, reached down and pulled up her panties. She did not even wince. When our Mom got through with us, we had to leave our panties down for the rest of the night because of the heat generated by the hairbrush. As with all my girls, Jessica was none the worse for wear after her whipping, and was able to sit just fine.
"Come here, Jess," I said. When she did I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a warm hug. "You're a good girl. I just don't want to worry about you." I kissed her on her forehead and told her to put away the stool and the strop.
"Are you going to walk around in your panties all day?" I asked.
Jessica gave me an amused smile. "No, Mom," she said. "I'll get dressed after I take my shower."
So Jess climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and I went back to reading my paper.
I have triplet daughters, Jennifer, Jessica and Renee. They are fraternal, so although they look somewhat alike they can easily be told apart. Jessica seemed to be the one who got in most trouble, but I must say they were all very good girls and did not have to be spanked often.
When they were young teens they had a curfew. I thought this was fair, because I wanted to know where my children were and what they were doing. They were either fourteen or fifteen when Jessica decided one night to hang out with her friends down the road. I didn't mind that, but I told her to be home at eleven because she had to walk home and I didn't want her strolling alone down a dark country road late at night. I set the curfew time at eleven pm, which I thought reasonable enough for a young teen to be out, even if it was Friday night and no school the next day.
Eleven came and went. Then midnight came and went. I began to be concerned.
Just as I was about to call her friend's mom (and of course embarrass the life out of Jess!) I heard the key rattle in the front door, and Jessica came in. She could see that I was none too pleased.
"And where were you all this time?" I asked none too gently.
"Well, you know I was at Amber's house," Jessica said.
"Yeah, I know that much," I replied. "What time were you supposed to be home?"
"Eleven."
"And what time is it now?"
"Twelve thirty."
"And," I asked, "what were you doing all this time?" I tried not to raise my voice because her father and sisters were sleeping, and her father had to get up for work on Saturday.
"Just hanging out," said Jess. "I didn't notice the time. I'm sorry."
"Sorry won't do, Jessica. Tomorrow morning you're getting twenty lashes!"
Jessica lowered her eyes and said, "Okay, Mom." She knew the drill. She would have to bend over our family Spanking Stool, bare her bottom, and receive twenty licks with the antique razor strop that my husband kept on his shaving table. Although such a spanking was very humiliating, Jessica knew that I really didn't hit very hard, and used the strop more for effect than pain. The two straps, one behind the other, slapped together and made a loud whacking sound, but the resulting sting on the girl's bare heinie was minimal. Still, my girls didn't want to go through the ritual because it was inconvenient and made them feel plain silly.
"You know I don't like you walking down that road late at night. It can be dangerous. Did you at least take your flashlight with you?"
"Yes, Mom." Jess reached into her jacket pocket and waved the small flashlight at me.
"All right then, get up to bed. The only reason I don't spank you right now is because I don't want to wake up the house. Besides," I concluded, "I'm pretty upset right now, as you can imagine!"
I followed the example of my Mom by never spanking in anger. If Mom's spankings seemed ceremonial, part of the reason was to allow her a cooling-down period. Mom had spanked me in anger once, and as a result I could not sit for over a week. I never wanted to do that to my own girls.
The next morning Jennifer and Renee were still in bed, and my husband had left for work at his Adult Education class. I made myself comfortable in a living room chair to read the morning paper. An early riser, I had already dressed myself in my usual skirt and top (Yes, I wear skirts on Saturday). I heard some noises in the kitchen, but did not pay much attention because I figured one of the girls was rummaging for breakfast.
Then Jessica appeared beside me, which startled me a bit. She was dressed in a t-shirt and panties, with bare legs and feet, her usual sleepwear.
"Mom?" she said. I looked up from my paper. "I'm ready for my whipping now."
I rose from the easy chair and followed her into the kitchen. There in the middle of the floor was the Spanking Stool, a tall wooden barstool with flat rungs and a square seat. On the seat Jessica had placed the formidable-looking leather razor strop. To my surprise she had set up for her own spanking without being told. Jess walked around to the back of the stool and stood behind it. Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down to her knees.
"Okay, Mom," she said.
I picked up the strop from the stool seat and held it in my hand, swinging it lightly back and forth.
"Mount up," I ordered.
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Jess hopped up on the lowest rung and bent all the way forward, grasping the other bottom rung in front. Then she flexed her knees and dipped her back, making her bare bottom bulge out as an unobstructed target.
I walked around behind her to administer the whipping. "That was fifteen lashes, right, Jess?" I asked.
Jessica's head was pointing down to the linoleum floor. "No, Mom," she answered. "It was twenty."
I was stunned. At that moment I was so proud of my daughter's honesty that I wanted to take her off the Spanking Stool and just put my arms around her. But we both knew that justice had to be served.
"I know I was wrong to come home so late," Jessica admitted. "And I promise from now on I'll keep better track of the time." I believed her, but I also knew that both her sisters had taken a few rides on the Spanking Stool for committing the same offense. But Jess seemed pretty contrite.
I reached out and patted her nubile heinie with my free hand. "Stick it out more," I said. Jess thrust out her bare bottom as far as she could.
"Okay, ready?" I asked.
"Ready, Mom," came Jessica's reply.
Slap! went the strop. The two straps hit each other and made a loud report.
Jessica let out a little sigh and counted "One!"
Slap! "Two!" Slap! "Three!" Jessica did not cry. The girls' whippings were at best an annoyance, and the strop rarely, if ever, wrenched tears from them. I kept an eye on her hind end. It was blushing lightly, but without any real damage.
Of course I could have rewarded Jessica's honesty by giving her fifteen lashes instead of the full count of twenty, but the whipping was so relatively painless that five more lashes would have made very little difference.
Slap! "Sixteen!"
Slap! "Seventeen!"
Slap! "Eighteen!" This was followed by a little "Ooh!" like a barely audible sigh. I checked Jessica's heinie. It was pink but there was no sign of stripes or welts.
Slap! "Nineteen!"
And at last, Slap! "Twenty!"
To make my girls feel extra foolish, I instructed them to say the same words my sisters and I had to say to our Mom after a good hairbrushing.
"Thank you for tanning my heinie."
"Dismount and pull up," I directed. Jess hopped down from the Spanking Stool, reached down and pulled up her panties. She did not even wince. When our Mom got through with us, we had to leave our panties down for the rest of the night because of the heat generated by the hairbrush. As with all my girls, Jessica was none the worse for wear after her whipping, and was able to sit just fine.
"Come here, Jess," I said. When she did I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a warm hug. "You're a good girl. I just don't want to worry about you." I kissed her on her forehead and told her to put away the stool and the strop.
"Are you going to walk around in your panties all day?" I asked.
Jessica gave me an amused smile. "No, Mom," she said. "I'll get dressed after I take my shower."
So Jess climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and I went back to reading my paper.
