A LATE CANING
It was the late spring 1989. One Saturday morning after getting up quite late - about 11.30 - I had an argument with my Mom about using her car all the night before. As I was 21, I felt old enough to stay out all night - and so did Mom. But what I didn't realize then was: It was HER car and she leant it to me for going to cinema, not for driving around with it all night. She didn't appreciate this, as I hadn't asked.
There was nothing more to say as Mom said she won't tolerate this a second time: I wouldn't get her car again for the next weeks. With this our argument could have been over, but somehow I lost control over what I said:
"Alright then. Keep your fucking car, old nut!"
Mom didn't replie. Her only reaction was a long stern look into my eyes.
Immediately I felt ashamed for what I've said and left for my room. I laid down on my bed and thought about me insulting my Mom this way. Only two years ago, she would have spooned my naughty bare behind for this - there was no question about that.
Today she didn't - and I didn't feel convenient with this fact, because it made me feel guilty: I had no right at all to insult Mom! My behavior had to have some consequences - or I could never look into Mom's eyes again.
The longer I pondered about this, the clearer it came to my mind: I deserved a real severe punishment from Mom. I thought about the possibilities.
Should I ask her for grounding me? Mom never had grounded me without spanking me before and it was no appropriate punishment for my misbehave today.
Should she cut my money? No punishment that really would last. It was clear: Mom had to punish me physically as shew had always done in the past until I was nineteen.
But would Mom give her 21-year-old son a good spanking? I prayed she would: After an hour of thinking I took a heart, stood up, left my room and seeked for Mom. I found her in the living-room reading a book.
She looked up. I still could see the angry expression in her face. "What is it?"
"I'm so, so sorry for what I said, Mom."
"I hope so."
"Well, ahmm,..." - I uttered.
"Please return to your room. I can't stand your presence now, I don't want to see you anymore today!", Mom said in a quiet but firm voice.
"I know you're disappointed by me: So am I! Couldn'Ät you do anything to change this?"
"Me? It's your turn to do better!"
"I, I mean haven't you considered to punish me as you did all the years?"
"How shall I punish a 21-year-old man? Take you over my knee? Well, it's right I gave you some spankings during all your teens - but would you still accept being spanked by your mother?"
"Yes, Mom. I see no other choice. I'm feeling so sorry and I really know I need a reminder."
"You realize, that you ask me for a spanking?"
"Yes, please, Mom, give me a spanking!"
Mom paused. She put down her book and finally said: "You're sure? It won't be fun!"
"No fun. Shall I get the spoon?" ( Mom had always punished my younger brother and me with a 15-inch wooden spoon, which she kept in her dresser)
Mom paused again: "No wait. I'm really proud of you showing this understanding for your misbehave. And I'm really going to spank you. But as you're no longer a child, I think you need a very spanking today. One, that you were not used to in the past. I guess, it's two years now that you got the wooden spoon, isn't it?"
"Yes. Two years. The last spanking I got over Anne's knee almost two years ago. You remember?"
"Yes, I do. She did a great job, didn't she?", Mom asked slightly grinning.
"Yes, I won't ever forget."
"It was supposed that you'd never forget it! It's the same reason that we take a trip to the florist's. Come on, take on your shoes, they'll close in some minutes!", Mom said looking at her watch.
"To the florist's?" I didn't understand yet.
"I guess they sell some canes there for people who want to stabilize their plants - or punish their naughty boys. Come on!"
"You really want to cane me? The spoon hurts enough and always taught me to behave!"
"You'll have the chance to compare."
My Mom now swatted the seat of my jeans with my shoe: "Take it on, now!"
I obeyed and accompanied my Mom to the florist's shop.
We entered and Mom headed for the corner with the canes. They had some made of green plastic - Mom wasn't interested in these ones. But there were others made out of rattan. Without a word Mom took one of the longer ones - about 30 inches - out and tested it's flexibility.
Suddenly Mom adressed one of the assistance girls: "You sell some longer ones? About three feet?"
"Let me see, ma'am."
The girl, probably younger than me, went to the stockroom and returned after some long moments with about a dozen very long canes - all over 30 inches, some even about a 40 inches - in her arms.
"How thick should it be, I mean how big is the plant you need it for?"
"Well, quite tall.", Mom said grinning at me: "In fact taller than me. Nonetheless I need a very long but also very flexible one:"
Of course I blushed. The girl asked a bit confused now:
"Maybe this one?" and gave Mom a thin, 40 inch long cane.
Mom took it, tested it's flexibility by bending it almost into a circle: and turned to me: "Well, I guess it'll do the job it is required to do. What do you think, Mike?"
"Ahmm, well, I..." I fell through the floor as I looked at the 20 or so year old assistance now grinning at me.
"Okay, let's see then. Turn around to the wall!"
Mom helped me by taking my wrist in a firm grip with her left. Then she pulled my pants tight and swatted my clothed behind with the cane.
WHACK!!! - "Ouch!!!"
"I guess, it's perfect. I'll take it!", Mom said to the assistance, who couldn't believe what she just saw. "This young man will pay the cane!", she said handing the cane to me.
"It's 4.95 then.", the girl said grinning. She took it from me and removed the price label from the cane. "Shall I wrap it up?"
"N...no, th...thanks.",I uttered with my red face and gave the girl the money with uneasy hands.
"Thank you!" The girl gave me the cane asking: "Will your Mommy make your naughty bottom match the color of your face?"
I took the cane avoiding any look into the girl's eyes.
"You're right Miss! It won't be fun and there's no reason to laugh about, young lady! Maybe your Mom should give you a good spanking sometime!", my Mom said angrily to the young assistance, which was too perplexed to answer.
We left the shop. I had to carry the cane up to our appartment. No more word was spoken. I hoped we won't meet anybody on our way. I had luck. Mom opened the door and we finally entered our flat. I closed the door.
"Wait in your room for me. I want you to be dressed in your pajama when I'll follow in some minutes. And have your cane ready for me!", Mom said firmly.
"Stop it. You asked me for a spanking - well you'll get it and a good caning extra."
I rushed to my room, the cane in my uneasy hands. I put the cane onto my bed. I undressed: I took off my shoes, my shirt, my pants, panties, socks, T-shirt. I laid these clothes onto my bed next to the cane and retrieved from under the coverled my blue pajama. I stepped into the trouser and took on the top.
In this moment my Mom knocked at my door.
"You're ready, young man?"
"Yes, Mom, come in, please!"
She opened the door and entered. As she closed the door I realized her carrying the good, old wooden spoon in her right.
As I stared at the spoon, she said: "I said, you would get the chance to compare this spoon with our new cane. This means, before being caned you will get spooned first!"
She sat onto my bed next to the devices I deplored there, including the cane.
"Come to me!", she ordered.
"But you want to take over your knee, Mom? You didn't do this since I was fourteen! Please let me bend over my chair! It's so humiliating being bent over your knee!", I protested.
"One more word and you'll get extra, young man!" She pointed at her left knee with the spanking spoon. "It is supposed to humiliate. Over my knee!", she ordered patting the spoon at the palm of her left hand.
I obeyed and shuffled towards her lap. Then I took a heart and bent over my Mom's knee. In this moment I remembered my trip over Anne's knee two years ago.
In fact I was too tall and to heavy for a woman's knee, but somehow Mom managed to stand my weight - as Anne once did in this hotel room.
I smelt Mom's parfum and tried to lay as convenient as possible: My face almost touched Mom's black slippers, I could see her left ankle and the hem of her blue jeans; finally I got a grip of Mom's leg. Now I could feel Mom's finger nails on my still cold flesh as she lowered my pajama's trouser.
"Okay, you know why you are punished, young man?"
"Fine. I want you to keep still on my knee during the spanking. Otherwise you'd get extra. Is that clear, young man?"
"Yes, of course."
"As this is your first encounter with this wood for quite a long time, I want you to be concentrated while receiving the spanks: You're no longer used to this pain I'll spank into your buttocks and I do not want you falling off my lap!"
"I'll do my best, Mom."
"Okay then. Let's get it over with."
Mom drew back the wooden spoon and began:
WHACK!!! - "Ouch!!"
WHACK!!! - "Ahhh!!"
WHACK!!! - "Ohhh!!!"
WHACK!!! - "Pleaaa...!!"
WHACK!!! - "Ahmmm!!!"
WHACK!!! - "Ouuhhhch!!!"
After waiting a long moment Mom said:
"Okay, get up!"
I got up and turned around to look into my Mom's eyes.
"This was some childhood remembrance, wasn't it? Now you will get the real punishment." With this Mom put down the wooden spoon and picked up the fearsome long cane from my bed. She again bent it into a circle and tested it's hissing sound.
"It sounds good, doesn't it?"
"I'm scared, Mom! I'll prefer two dozen more strokes with the spoon tan a single one with that cane! It'll hurt awfully."
"This cane is supposed to hurt. It will you remind to behave and never ever insult me again. As this cane is to long for an over-the-knee-use take out your chair, please!"
With my pajama trousers round my ankles I walked over to my desk and took out the chair and placed it in the middle of the room.
"Okay, stand behind the chair!", Mom said standing up, the cane in her right pointing to the floor.
As I stood where I was supposed to stand, Mom walked to my left. "Bend over!", she commanded.
As I had bent over, Mom pressed the cane against my already hot bottom cheeks.
"Because this cane will terrible hurt, you'll have to concentrate for each swat. So I want you to get a firm grip of the chair and to count every one of the twelve swats loudly! Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mom!", I replied grabbing the legs of my chair.
Still pressing the cane onto my posteriora, Mom said: "Let's get it over with!" She drew back the cane. During the long moments of awaiting the cane, I suddenly felt Mom's left hand touching my back: She held me softly in position.
I heard a hissing sound and in the same moment an awful sting in my buttocks:
WHACK!!! - "One!"
WHACK!!! - "Ouuoh, two!"
WHACK!!! - "Ahh, three."
By now I began to squirm: Mom had to get a tighter grip of my back. Again she drew back the cane, again a hissing sound was heard:
WHACK!!! - "Four!"
WHACK!!! - "Five. Mom, pleaaa..."
WHACK!!! - "Ahhh!!Six!"
WHACK!!! - "I'll be...seven!"
WHACK!!! - "...good! Eight!"
WHACK!!! - "Aaaoohhh!!!...nine!"
My bottom was set under fire. The unbelievable sting made me bawl and squirm around on my chair. Mom paused saying:
"There is no need in bawling. If you do not stop at once, you'll get extras!"
I concentrated and bent over again properly. Mom drew back the cane.
WHACK!!! - "Ahhh!! Ten!"
I felt the sting in my thighs: Mom had decided to give them a taste of the cane, too.
WHACK!!! - "Ooooohhh!!! Eleven!" WHACK!!! - "Ahhhohh!!! Twelve!"
With this last stroke, Mom had returned to my buttocks.
"Stand up!" came the command.
I stood up, sobbing.
"I hope this will be a lesson for you!!
Still the cane in her hand she hugged me saying: "I hope I never ever have to use this cane again! Now take on your clothes!"
I walked over to my bed, Mom observed me taking off the pajama and dressing again. As I had finished, she said handing the cane to me: "I don't think I need it again, but nonetheless keep it in your wardrobe for me. I want to know where to get it, if necessary."
"Yes, Mom." I took the cane and put it into my wardrobe.
Mom picked up the wooden spoon from my bed and left the room.
As I was left alone with my stinging behind, I fell into my bed and now really had the chance to think about my mischief...