Spanking Stepmothers: an F/M story collection

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With my mom, spanking was a last resort, to be used only for exceptionally naughty behaviour. But for Kate, spanking was the go-to discipline. I probably got spanked two or three times a year, but it seemed like Denise and Kristie got their bottoms tanned more than two or three times in a week. I married Jason in the mid 80s, and at the time his son Steven had just turned five years old. Jason’s ex had a big drug problem so he had had custody of the boy since they broke up, when Steven was just two.

At my hesitation, she raised an eyebrow and looked down at the belt, before shrugging and placing the item of my discomfort on a nearby counter. "Come on, kid. Time to take you home for the day." She waved me over, making her way toward the front door. I nervously stood and walked over behind her, exiting the house before she closed the door. When she she finished spanking me and left the room, I peeked under my door and made sure she was down the hall before starting my little victory dance. I was quite pleased with myself and my acting skills. I knew that not only did I escape a real belting, but I escaped a real spanking altogether! I also thought that, moving forward…she may go to the belt instead of her sandal and that would be pretty OK with me! I could just act my way through it. I had a get out of jail free card! I won't call you 'Dan'. You will always be 'Danny'. 'Danny' is a child's name, that is what you are, is it not?" Finally, she turned to me, all smiles and said: “Well, Asher, I think we have an understanding now, don’t you? And now you’ve met my little helpers!” In the next few weeks, I saw Denise and Kristie get spanked during trips to the grocery store, the mall and the movie theatre, as well as the playground. Interestingly, neither of the girls seemed to feel any sense of embarrassment about it. They talked about their spankings very matter-of-factly, and did not think it unusual to be spanked in front of strangers.The brush served me well, if painfully, growing up, and it has served my four children in much the same way.

I was a brat growing up. My parents were the most permissive you ever saw. They let me get away with anything. They gave me anything I wanted. I had a wonderful life with them. At least I thought so. The distinction seemed so obvious and significant when I was young, but as an adult I find it impossible to explain. Parent-child violence in one context was clearly abuse, while parent-child violence in another context was clearly discipline. One was unconscionable, the other justified, even morally mandated. One was hate, and the other, love.

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When my ex-spouse and I were dating, we had the the usual getting-to-know-each-other talks — with a deeper dimension, since we had known each other as kids and had reconnected as adults. As we delved deeply into our personal histories, each providing individual perspectives on our shared childhoods, she said something that would forever change the context of my life:

Thanks very much for sharing your story. I matters to me because I had a very similiar experience. When you describe the ‘blur of terror and pain’ and how you couldn’t help talking about it in intimate relationships, I recognize that. The hell you will! Give me my own clothes! I'll go to school like I always do. Dressed the way I want to! You can't tell me what to wear!" I called her bluff. I want you to sleep in your uniform tonight so you get used to it." "Yes Aunt Christine." I replied. Oh...Duh. Hearing that, I just gave a small 'ooooh...', before finally reaching my front door. It being MY house, I didn't really think anything of it when I opened the door and walked right on in. My mom, who was sitting on the couch with one of her books, just looked up in confusion. "Oh. Hey, sweetheart. You're home early." She gave my friends' mom a questioning look, silently asking for information.

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As I went through the rest of my school day, squirming in hard chairs, feeling a little feverish, I mentally played the ‘how long will I be grounded for’ game. It’s amazing I didn’t get in trouble again that day, for not paying attention. Well, that didn’t sound good. I complied, thinking she was giving herself time to calm down. As I worked through my assignments, I actually found myself settling down. I didn’t exactly forget that I was in big trouble, but I pushed the thought aside.