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Sam - my first spanking experiences

by 12 years a spankee

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 18 Apr 2018

Sam – my first experiencesMy parents did not believe in spanking, so I was never spanked at home. However, I became obsessed about it from quite a young age. Maybe I felt I was missing out. My Dad was not much of a presence in my life for various reasons and I was also a bit of a lonely kid. I did not make friends easily and generally preferred the company of adults, especially men.

I had one friend, Mikey, who I think may be the root of my obsession with spanking.

My first experiences of spanking were at his house. I think we must have been playing up when his mum came in and shouted at the three of us. Mikey, I think, whined or answered back.
Don’t think, just because your friend is here, that I won’t spank you!

Another time when we were out shopping, she said to him, don’t think I won’t pull your shorts down in front of everybody!

I was excited as he was upset!

Eventually the day came when he did get spanked when I was there. I was aware that he had been spanked a couple of times after I had gone home, because his sister said so.

Ignore him. He’s sulking because he got his botty spanked last night!

I did not get to see him spanked, but I heard it all. I remember the sounds of her hand smacking his bare bottom and his cries of ow’ and please mummy. I remember that I was shocked that it was such a prolonged spanking.

My next experience was a couple of years later. Mikey and I had ceased to be friends, and in an attempt to help me make new friends Mum signed me up for the cub scouts. I think I was around nine years old. I was not a natural cub scout and still struggled to make friends.

My only real friend was a lad called Andrew (never Andy). He had strawberry blonde hair and freckles. He was my first crush! He was older, maybe 13 at the time and helped out with the cubs. I don’t think I ever knew his relationship with Akela. He was not his son. He might have been his nephew, but I think he was the just the kid of a neighbour. They had a very close relationship though. Andrew did not always seem to like Akela that much, but spent a lot of time with him and did as he said.

The first camp I went on was when I fell for Andrew. That first camp was at Easter. It was cold and wet. Mum had bought be an orange Cagoule and wellington boots, both of which I was embarrassed to wear. The I saw Andrew. He had the same organge waterproof, but big black knee length rubber boots. He looked so manly to me that I fell for him and went from embarrassed to wearing the jacket and wellies everyday, needed or not.

I had fun with Andrew. He was a bit cheeky and always keen to wander off from the organised activities to explore. He got warned by Akela several times, but it was on the second cam I attended that he went further

We were not under canvas that time, but in a hut. It was summer and it was more like a holiday camp than a campsite, but that didn’t stop Andrew wearing his wellies which he seemed obsessed by. As usual, he wanted to leave the mown grass of the main camp and venture out to the river that ran down one side. There was an old wartime concrete pillbox that he wanted to explore. He went in, but I had to stay outside as it had a thick layer of mud at the bottom. Akela was suspicious of why his boots were so muddy and we got warned to stay away from the river. He ignored that, but Andrew was careful to clean his wellies off before he went near Akela.

The next day, he encouraged me to wear my wellies so I could go into the pillbox. We spent ages exploring the pillbox. As a result, we were late back. Akela was outside the hut looking for us, so Andrew had no opportunity to use the tap to clean off his boots.

Akela was not happy.

Where have you been? You were meant to be back here twenty minutes ago! Everyone else has gone over the camp fire.
He then looked down at our boots.
Have you been down by the river?
Andrew lied. I couldn’t say a lie out loud, so just shook my head.

We were ordered to clean the mud off of our boots and then to come inside. We did as we were told and crept into the hut holding out newly washed wellies.

Akela was standing with his arms folded.
I’d ban you both from the camp fire tonight, but that would mean I would miss it.
We both mumbled a sorry

Well that’s not good enough. Tomorrow the two of you will spend the day cleaning the hut. Inside and out. And as for you, he was looking at Andrew, I expect you to set an example.

He stood back as if he was thinking, then said well I gave you fair warning.

Andrew’s head slumped and he mumbled something.

Go on, Akela said.

Andrew put down his wellies and trudged to where his bed was. He reached underneath and retrieved one of his plimsolls. He trudged back and handed it to Akela.

Andrew looked at me and then to Akela. Akela understood what he meant. He hesitated, then said, ’well if you cannot set an example, I will have to make an example of you!

Bend over.

It was only afterwards, that it struck me that Andrew must have been spanked by Akela previously, and probably a few times. He had fetched the plimsoll, had bent over and had accepted his punishment without any surprise or dissent.

Andrew bent over and grabbed his ankles.

This is for going by the river when I expressly told you not to.

He pulled his arm back and delivered a firm whack across Andrew’s backside. Andrew was already red in the face from bending over, and he grimaced and shifted forward slightly. The second blow landed with a thud. A third followed soon after.

And this is for being late!

Three more thuds as the plimsoll landed across Andrew’s bottom. His head came up. I saw that he was biting his lip.

And this is for setting a poor example!

Three more whacks of the slipper rebounded off of Andrew’s poor bottom. I heard him sob. He tried to suppress it, but failed.

Andrew made to stand up, but Akela said oh no, you get six for that.
Andrew looked distressed, but bent back over.
The final three blows landed and he sobbed openly now.

Andrew stood up. His face was tear strewn and red, but he gave Akela a defiant look.

Akela stared at him.

Well, it looks like you have not learned your lesson!

For a moment, I thought Andrew was going to be bent back over for more.

Well, let’s see if this changes your mind. Over there. He pointed the plimsoll to where I was standing. Hands on your head. No rubbing.’

Andrew stopped rubbing his bottom and put his hands on his head as he walked over and stood next to me.

Right you next he said pointing the plimsoll at the spot.

I walked nervously over to Akela.

Bend over he said and I grabbed my ankles. I looked over at Andrew with concern.

This is for defying me and going by the river. Now this is going to hurt. It is meant to!

He was not kidding! The first whack landed squarely in the middle of my bottom. At first al I felt was shock, shock at how much it stung even through shorts and underpants. Akela waited a few seconds and then landed the second. I had then started to feel the pain and cried out. The third landed immediately afterwards.

And this is for being late.

Another blow landed and I could not suppress my sobs. Two more landed and I was crying openly.

Stand up.

I stood up and my hands automatically reached for my bottom.

Right now get outside and wait for me.

Neither of us enjoyed the camp fire, usually the highlight of camping, but then sitting on hard logs with well spanked bottoms was never going to be comfortable! It was obvious to the other boys what had happened as well. Our faces told the story.

Years later I found out that there was no way Akela should have spanked me. It was against the rules. However, I had and have no complaints. Whatever their relationship he obviously had permission to spank Andrew and it would have been unfair for me not to be spanked as well.

It was a few years before I got spanked again, but I remained obsessed with it and went over that day again and again.


As I now look back and reflect, I think my obsession with spanking has three key roots. Firstly, I was lonely and a bit neglected at home, emotionally and in terms of attention I mean. I think I looked at other boys who got spanked and thought that I was missing out. I wanted the same attention, even if it meant a sore bum!
Secondly, in the virtual absence of a father, I tended to obsess about anything manly. Andrew particularly was a role model. He got spanked, so I wanted to be spanked. He wore wellies, so did I, although without his obsession. He rode a chopper bike, so I craved one. Later, he took to wearing DMs to school, so I was desperate to do the same.
Thirdly, as a gay boy in the making, being spanked on my bottom was the closest I got to physical contact with a man. Being spanked on your bottom is a very intimate act. For me it was firstly an act of love, and later a sexual act. When I got the slipper from a teacher for the first time, rather than resent it, I egged him on to spank me again. Maybe I’ll tell you that story some time.

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