My Dad in the 1960's

[petergordon]

All because I broke a street light with a stone while showing off to my cousins.....now I am showing them what a sorry little boy I am. My Dad has made very sure of that alright. John is older than me and Pamela is younger and she has told on me

It is after dinner that I am deeply regretting my serious misbehaviour as my bottom bounces and twists and squirms across Dad's lap, and my legs flail and dance in every direction in response to the smacking impact of the solid clothes brush. I am howling in earnest as I feel the hard wood burn my bottom cheeks with each smack. My bare buttocks are aflame and burning scarlet. Every 3 or 4 seconds for at least a couple of minutes the smacks of the brush landing are drowned out with the sounds of my howling pleading and bawling ..during which my bottom felt like it was sitting on a hot plate as the searing sting just got worse and worse.

When at last Dad lets me up from his lap I immediately begin rubbing my bottom frantically with both hands and danced around the room on the tips of my toes in a desperate attempt to relieve the burning pain .. I do the time-honoured spanking dance from toe to toe oblivious to anything but my stinging burning bottom. Tears are running down my face and I am sobbing and bawling and sniffling uncontrollably. I am a well-punished teenager who Dad leads to the corner.

Corner time is hugely embarrassing because my cousins are there in the livingroom.I am aware of the heat radiating from my glowing bottom, and the desperate way I am shifting my weight from foot to foot to try and lessen the pain with my hands on my head. I am 14 and tears are running down my face....I want to stop crying but I can't...my bottom is stinging so badly

.. all the girls and boys in my street knew my Dad spanked me with the brush. On weeknights I had to do my homework and my chores before Dad got home at about 6.30 and woe betide me if I had fallen foul of Mum with my demeanour or behaviour.. I was an only child but there was no way I was going to be spoilt or indulged by my Mum and Dad.. while other boys had graduated into long pants I was kept in shorts until I was 16 with my parents believing that a boy was a boy until they were out of home and earning their own money..

It was the 1960's and all the permissiveness and the youth movement of rebellion and long hair really annoyed them so it was short back and sides and yes sir and yes ma'am and high standards in all things for me. If I failed to be respectful honest tidy or naughty in any way then Dad would tan my hide with that brush that evening after dinner.