| Subject: A springtime spanking in church |
Author:
 MikeWood
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Date Posted: 11:30:30 03/27/22 Sun
Cross-posted; I apologize to anyone who sees this more than once.
For the first time in several months, it was necessary to spank my nephew in church this morning. I gave the discipline myself, but did have Donnie’s “next year” teacher (one of the elders of the church) come with us to the basement discipline room, to watch.
Donnie had been running inside the building (not in itself a spankable offense, but still discouraged) … and rounded a corner and ran directly into the elder who will be his teacher in a couple of months. I saw the event and immediately called Donnie to me. He knew he was in trouble and just hung his head and came over to me. As his future teacher also came over, Donnie (to his credit) sincerely apologized.
I told Donnie he needed a spanking and told him I was going to take him downstairs for it. He knew that meant a “real” spanking and not just a quick swat on the bottom. He sighed, in resignation, and quietly said only, “Yes sir.” I invited the elder to come with us, and he agreed to do so.
We went downstairs, with Donnie between us and holding our hands. Once in the discipline room, I locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed in there, and signaled Donnie to come to me (in that room, there is a straight back chair, a sofa, and a bed — the bed for those parents who choose to discipline with a belt or strap, with their child laying on the bed, and there are pillows and cushions to place under the child’s hips to elevate the bottom. There are also several paddles and several belts & straps).
I removed Donnie’s white dress shirt and his tee shirt, then his shoes and socks, and finally his trousers and his white briefs underpants. I asked him if he realized why he deserved a spanking and, with tears welling up in his eyes, he said “Yes sir.” I suggested that he apologize again to his future teacher and Donnie walked over to him and said he was sorry, with his voice breaking a bit. His teacher hugged him, rubbed his back and kissed his cheek, then gently rubbed Donnie’s bottom as he told him he forgave him. He was SO calm and gentle with Donnie; it made me even more glad that he will be Donnie’s teacher starting in mid-May.
Donnie came back to me, with a very firm little nervous erection by now, I scooted back on the bed and had Donnie lay across my lap, reached under to adjust his penis, and began spanking him. He began crying immediately, and I felt the point had been made after only about five minutes. I sat him up on my lap, facing me, hugged him and kissed him, and told him I forgave him too … and that I loved him. Donnie looked up at me with his tear-stained face and asked, “Does he have to spank me too?” I have never been so proud of Donnie, for realizing that forgiveness can best come from the injured party. I looked across to his teacher, who was seated in the straight back chair; he nodded, and I told Donnie to go to him.
His teacher sat in the chair and took a ping pong paddle from the table. He guided Donnie between his legs and bent him over his thigh and, as Donnie started crying even before the first swat, gave him 10 very firm swats with the paddle. Donnie was sobbing uncontrollably, as his teacher calmly replaced the paddle on the table, stood Donnie up in front of him, and as Donnie’s sobs subsided to a whimper, kissed him on the lips and told him to go and be a good boy. Then he gently wiped Donnie’s eyes with a tissue and told him he had permission to get dressed.
All in all, it was a most beautiful discipline session and I felt almost “glad” I got to be a part of it. Donnie accepted his discipline very well, showed true contrition for what he had done, and he got a taste of what things will be like for him as a teenager at church.
We walked into the church about halfway through the service and, as we got to the pew where my sister was sitting, Donnie asked me quietly if he could please stay standing up. I said yes, and he stood at the end of the pew — and I’m sure that everyone knew why.
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