When I was a teenager, probably 16, maybe 17, I was a real brat, getting into bother at the drop of a hat. It really was just a phase, because by 18 I was a totally different person.

These events took place in a shopping centre in France when we were on holiday. It had been a very hot and extremely humid couple of days, and tempers were wearing a little thin. As usual, I was being a real little madam, and mum was rapidly running out of patience with me. We had been in a big supermarket shop, and before that we had tried to find some more thin tops for me to try and help in the extreme heat, but after a fruitless hour of me not liking anything she suggested, mum gave up. Now with a trolley load of shopping, I decided now was the ideal time to try on some shoes. Not just the one pair. Oh no, every size 5 they had, about a dozen pairs. Mum was going ballistic but I carried on, just to wind her up.

Finally, after about 20 minutes, I left the shop empty-handed and we trudged back to the car, a Range Rover with tailgate, and loaded the shopping into the back. Luckily, being underground, it was much cooler than outside, and the chilled food was not getting too warm. We were just about to leave, when I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the boot, rooting around for a packet of cakes I knew were in there, but well buried. In doing so, I dropped a 4 litre carton of milk onto the concrete which burst and went all up my legs.

That was it. Mum had had quite enough for one day. She unbuckled her seat belt and came to the back of the car where the tailgate was still down. She took hold of my arm as she sat on the tailgate and in one fluid move hauled me, with far more strength than I thought she had, up and over her knee. Pinning me firmly with her left hand, she used her right to pull the hem of my short summer skirt up and over my bottom, revealing a pair of tired looking blue panties.

Anyone in the carpark would have a great view of these goings on, but mum did not care at this stage. Luckily for me, there was just one couple walking up the ramp into the shops who disappeared at precisely the same moment mum’s hand first landed on my bottom with a resounding smack. The sound echoed widely around the car park, but so much, no one would be able to pinpoint the sound, thankfully. Mum had commenced on what turned out to be quite a long and, from my end, a very painful spanking. My older self would say I richly deserved it, but I was kicking and thrashing in indignation at being spanked at my age and in plain sight of any bystanders. I did fear my panties might be coming down as well, but that was not to be. However, I screamed and swore which, mum later told me, got me a further dozen spanks on top.

When mum finally released me, I rubbed my bum furiously whilst still having a good go at her. She threatened to bend me back over if I didn’t simmer down, which did have the desired effect, especially now there were more people about, probably looking for the source of the entertainment. There is no mistaking the sound of hand on bottom, even in a concrete car park.

Following that incident, I did calm down a bit for the rest of the holidays and managed to avoid another spanking, but looking back it must have been a close run thing at times.