This first memory occurred when I was 11 years old. I was spending the weekend with my Godmother, Mary, and her son, Evan, who was also 11. Mary had grew up with my parents and Evan was born just 2 months before me, so he and I were pretty close.

It was Saturday and we had asked to go to the library to hang out for awhile. After getting Mary’s permission, we rode our bikes to the library only to find it closed. Now on the way to the library was a park, so we decided to just ride our bikes there to spend time instead. Mary must have felt we had been gone long enough at the library so she drove over there to find it closed and neither Evan or myself anywhere in sight. Of course she got scared and drove around till she found us at the park.

After a quick scolding at the park and orders to ride our bikes straight back to her home, we found ourselves sitting on the couch with our heads hung as Mary read us both the riot act. We were then told we both would get spankings. Mary made me call my mom and tell her what I had done and that I was going to get a spanking.

At home myself I would get spanked by my dad with his duty belt from his police uniform, so being spanked wasn’t foreign to me and I knew Evan’s mom spanked him. I just didn’t know how. Mary sent us both to Evan’s room to wait, and told us she had to run an errand and when she returned we would get our spankings.

I took the time to question Evan how his mom spanked and he explained that he had to lay on her lap and she used her hand. We spent the next 15 or so minutes in panic that each car turning down the road was Mary. Finally Mary did return and after coming back to Evan’s bedroom took me by the hand to her own bedroom.

She hugged me and asked if I understood why I had to be spanked. I told her I did and she helped me to bend over her lap so that both my hands and feet touched the floor. It was more than a few seconds that I had went over her lap that I felt her hand smack my backside. She packed a punch and it did sting, but it wasn’t anything compared to my dad’s belt. Still, though, after probably 20 good spanks I was crying and she let me up. She hugged me and kissed the top of my head and asked me to wait her for her to return.

I was able to hear some of the smacks a few minutes later coming from Evan’s room as his mom now spanked him.

Sometime later his mom returned with Evan, who I could see had not finished crying all too long ago. Mary asked us if we would like to come downstairs now for milkshakes. She had picked up milkshakes for us all on her way back from running her errand.

That was the first and last time Mary ever spanked me, and as Evan and I got older we didn’t hang out as much, but he and I do still joke about being spanked by his mom and then having milkshakes.