When I was younger, my mother would teach Sunday school along with another woman called Mrs Schmidt. I was about 9-years-old at the time of this story, and had an 11-year-old sister, Sophie, and a 6-year-old brother, Sam. Mrs Schmidt also had three daughters of her own, one 3, one 8 and the other 12.

Growing up, my mother was pretty strict, but a spanking was a rare occurrence and was always done in private over the panties. However, my mother also cared greatly about her public appearance, and the opinions of her friends. This would sometimes be great, as us children would tell her stuff like, “Everyone else at school has a new bike,” and our mother would get us a new bike, although on this occasion, these personality traits of hers would work against me.

On one particular Saturday, my mother and Mrs Schmidt were going for a walk along the river. I decided to go with them as I always tried to be ‘little Miss Perfect’. It wasn’t long before the two of them started talking about Sunday school, as it was church the next day, and it was then that my mother brought up the “totally unacceptable behavior of her children,” and I saw my chance to prove my utter perfection.

“I know,” I said. “Sophie and Sam are always yelling and saying stupid things.”

“Now you be quiet!” my mother snapped. “You think I haven’t seen you pulling faces at them when you think I’m not looking? You’re a major distraction.”

At this point I was quite shocked, for I was certain I had hidden the sabotaging of my siblings’ behavior well. However, it was true. I would regularly try and get them told off in front of the rest of the Sunday school class. It was at this point that Mrs Schmidt decided to chime in.

“And you’re lucky you’re not in bigger trouble,” she said. Then, turning to my mother, “If any of my kids acted up like that, and tried to deceive me, they would be straight over my knee, with their bare bottoms feeling the sting of my hand.”

After this statement, there was a slight pause as my mother pondered what Mrs Schmidt had just said, before coming to a decision.

“I was actually just considering that myself,” she said to my utmost horror. “Yes, nothing better than a good old spanking.”

“No mommy, please. I’m sorry, don’t spank me.”

My mother’s face softened for a second, but upon seeing the stern face of Mrs Schmidt she changed tack.

“In fact,” she said. “That bench over there looks most suitable.”

By this point, I was screaming at the top of my voice begging her not to spank me in front of everybody else in the park. However, it did little good. While Mrs Schmidt stood by and watched, my mother managed to bend me over her knee and then, to my shock, pulled down my leggings and panties.

“Nooooo! Not on the naked bum! Please no, mommy. Noooo!”

“Quiet,” was my mother’s reply.

Then the spanking started, one spank after the other, switching between sides of my bum each time. By the fourth smack I was in tears, and by the eighth I was in hysterics, from both embarrassment and pain. Before long, I thought my bottom was literally on fire, but the spanks kept coming for what must have been another five minutes, every smack punctuated with stern words regarding my terrible behavior.

When my mother finally stopped and let me go, I just slid to the ground, both hands clutching my burning rear end as I sobbed into the grass. I was allowed to lie there for a few minutes before my crying came to an end. Then Mrs Schmidt gently stood me up as my mother picked up my clothes and helped me back into them. I then sat on Mrs Schmidt’s lap as my mother went to the toilet, and I remember Mrs Schmidt allowing me to sit so that my sore bottom hung between her legs, to avoid any further discomfort.

It was at this point that I started to take notice of all the people around, many still casting glances in our direction. So, as soon as my mother returned I begged to return home, which we did, one hand clasping my mothers, and the other rubbing my bottom.

Once we returned home, the first thing I did was run into my bedroom, and look at my bare bottom in the mirror. It was unbelievably red, and painful, but I certainly started behaving better after that.

Following the success of this spanking, my mother would spank my bare bottom many more times, although I’m still not sure if she did the same to any of my siblings. However, I never stopped loving her, and am still in contact with Mrs Schmidt to this day.