Brodies Pages

From Tara:

Spankings in our house were frequent, ritualized, severe and always a family event. The last part is really what made them so awful … and effective, I have to admit.

If my sister or I had been sentenced to a spanking, it would take place in the family room after dinner. We were always forced to watch each other be punished so it would be a reminder of what would happen. Even when I was annoyed with my sister I still cringed at every stroke of the switch or strap (my dad’s go-to implements). I knew what it felt like and I really didn’t wish it on anyone, though as I got to my teens I also experienced a rush of excitement that I didn’t understand at first (though I figured it out later!)

That excitement was limited to witnessing, as my dad made sure to make our punishments thorough and painful. First the one getting it would be scolded, then told to get up, and lower her pants and panties (or lift a skirt or dress) Then the dreaded “bend over.” Any hesitation was met with immediate smacks and added strokes. Clenching cheeks was also forbidden as it was considered disobedience. He never told us how many lashes or strokes we would be getting: “I’ll decide when you’ve had enough” he often said when I begged him to stop. After our ass whippings he walked us to the corner where we had to stand, hands on head and still bare, for an hour or more when everyone else went about their lives. If we moved we got our thighs slapped or, worse, bent back over for another 6 or so.

Whip.

That.