The Bare Bottom Chair


by Boyorion

As I am disconnecting from the internt for good shortly, this shall be my last ever story, so I'm gonna make it a good one. What follows is the real story about my childhood. At least, the parts of it where I was over someone's knee. In particular, family life at home with my stepfather and older stepbrother.

Picture it: Sydney, Australia - the 80's

My father had left before I was born. Shortly after my 1st birthday my mother married my stepfather. He had a 7 year old son at the time and we all started living happily together. My mother was a career woman and it wasn't unusual for her to work late most evenings, although she dedicated her weekends to us. My stepfather worked from home and was definately "Mr Mum." He was the one who was solely responsible for keeping the boys in line.

Up until I was 4, the most I'd got if I'd acted up would be one or two sharp smacks on the seat of my pants. Jacob, my brother, had been over dad's knee many times with his pants down. I had watched with curiosity, wondering what it felt like.

Dad's spankings followed a methodical procedure. First, you would be sent to your room. Me and Jacob shared a bedroom, so if we sensed a spanking was inevitable for the other, we would get into the bedroom before it happened so we could watch. Dad would come in a few minutes later. He would get the small wooden stool from the corner of the bedroom. It was about 1 1 2 feet high, a square top with rounded corners and four legs with thin, round rungs half way up. It was solid pine, unpainted and unstained. I simply refered to it as "The Bare Botton Chair." I had never seen it used for any other purpose except for soundly spanking the cheeky bottom of a naughty boy, and then the corner time afterwards, which is why the stool really gets its name.

Dad would sit on the stool and cross his legs. The offending child would have his pants rather unceremoniously yanked down to their ankles, and then hoisted over dad's right thigh, their soft little caboose sticking up in the air.

Dad always spanked full force. There were no soft smacks, no hard smacks, just dad's smacks. He would raise his hand as high as it would go and then bring it down as hard as he possibly could, his massive hand covering every inch of the naughty boy's bum with every swat. Intensely stinging smacks turned a quivering little bottom into a red, hot and sorry one as sit-spot, crack and both full cheeks were covered by each sobering blow, leaving a burning, throbbing reminder of who was boss.

Dad always gave the same spanking, regardless of the offence. After the bad son was positioned, a very rhythmic spanking would commence without delay.

"If (SMACK!) I (SMACK!) am (SMACK!) a (SMACK!) naughty (SMACK!) boy (SMACK!) I (SMACK!) will (SMACK!)get (SMACK!) my (SMACK!) bare (SMACK!) bottom (SMACK!) spanked (SMACK!) very (SMACK!) very (SMACK!) very (SMACK!) hard." SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Twenty in total, although if it was a particularly bad deal, he was known to repeat himself. When Jacob was 10, he got three repeats after he slapped our mother. When I was 11, I got suspended for 4 days from school and dad gave me 5 repeats.

When I was 7, Jacob turned 13 and thus crossed the threshhold. Dad was methodical about age as well. First spanking at age 4, once your 13 you're too old. However, he became old enough to spank me. He became my babysitter when Dad had to go out, and spanked me whenever he could find an excuse. Unlike dad, he wasn't as methodical. He used the bare bottom chair, but instead of 20 smacks and a drill, Jacob would just spank me as hard and fast as he could, until his arm was too sore. He often played with my bottom alot when I was over his lap. It felt good, so I always obeyed Jacob when he wanted to spank me, sometimes I'd deliberately earn one.

After a spanking, whether from dad or Jacob, or whether dad had spanked Jacob, were were made to sit on the bare bottom chair, facing into a corner, with our pants around our ankles, our backs up straight, our feet on the rungs on the sides and our hands on our knees. If we moved before being excused, we'd get double. Not only was a very red and sore bottom on display, so was a tight, hot and rather embarassed anus. However, the main point was that the sit-spot was firmly pressed into the wood, intensifying the afterburn of the spanking. Five minutes was the usual sentence, but you could find yourself their for up to half an hour.

I was spanked in this way from the day of my 4th birthdsy when I recieved 4 playful birthday smacks on the bare bottom from dad and then from Jacob, to the day of my 13th birthday where dad was entitled to a 'last hoorah,' followed by Jacob, who was 20 by this stage, giving me thirteen merciless birthday spanks, bare bottom of course.

Spankings were almost daily occurences. We go at least one or two spankings per week every week. An average of 10 minutes per week spent sitting in the bare bottom chair.

Now my boys, aged 5 and 6, pull down their pants, go over my knee as I sit on the very same stoll. I spank their soft, round little bottoms hard. Then they sit, just like I did, in the corner, with their pants down, their sit-spots throbbing from the pressure of the bare bottom chair.


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