"Didn't Stefan tell you that I've absolutely forbidden him to play in that forest? It's too dangerous. There have been several incidents of rabies reported in this area.
I'd heard of the rabies incidents myself. My father told me all about it They had involved rabid bats. My father had cautioned me about staying clear of bats. Those that were flying about, would not be a problem, he said. Even if they had rabies they would not attack you. The ones you had to watch out for were those lying on the ground. Those were the really sick ones, the ones that would bite if you picked them up. There was no reason to avoid the forest, you were just as likely to run across a sick bat in the back yard, as in the forest.
I didn't want to start an argument. I also didn't want to get Steve in trouble by answering his mother's question. It had, after all, been Steve's idea to play in the forest. He certainly had not told me that his mother had placed the forest off limits. I looked at Steve but didn't say anything.
"Never mind Bobby," Steve's mother replied, "I'll ask Stefan."
"Stefan, did you tell Bobby that I'd forbidden you to play in the forest?"
Steve began to look sheepish and pale. "No, but . . ."
"But nothing! -- Just because we have company staying over Stefan, does not give you permission to break my rules. You are in big trouble! Now, I want both of you to get in the house."
We sat on the floor to take our shoes off the moment we entered the house. The base seemed to have been built on a field of gray clay so this was a common practice; insisted upon by just about everyone I knew; it was certainly a practice at my house. Anyway, no sooner had we taken off our shoes than Mrs. Holgn made a beeline towards Steve. Steve, seeing her approach but still seated on the floor, tried to scoot away but was no match for his mother.
"Don't you back away from me," cried Mrs. Holgn as she reached down and pulled Steve towards her by the waste band of his trousers. "You know better than that. When you break my rules you get spanked, and when you pull away like that you get spanked more." As she spoke, she pulled Steve closer, unbuckled his belt, popped open the now exposed snap, and lowered the zip. Then, in one quick motion, she lifted Steve up off the floor and, as she turned towards the living room, began tugging at his pants, tugging first on one side, than the other.
"Follow me," she ordered.
As we headed towards the living room, Mrs. Holgn continued tugging on Steve's pants and under pants, pulling them down together, an inch at a time, one side - than the other - his bared bottom was quickly exposed and, with every step, his pants got lower and lower - until suddenly free of of whatever resistence was holding them up, a final tug sent them flying to the floor.
Steve was obviously going to get a bare bottom spanking, and I was going to be there to watch. This, as it turned out, was the first of several spankings that I'd witness during the next year. But I was too scared and too worried to derive any pleasure from watching this particular spanking. Under the circumstances, I didn't know what to expect. What was going to happen when she finished spanking Steve? Was I next? I didn't want a spanking. I certainly didn't want to be spanked by Steve's mom.
Steve was already crying like a baby. I think I was crying too, or getting ready to cry. I fully supposed that I would be crying big time in a matter of minutes.
Mrs. Holgn sat down on the edge of their couch and turned Steve over her knee, locking him between her powerful legs. At the same time, she grabbed his two arms and held them in a vise grip behind his back, lifting them a bit to force Steve's head down towards the floor. Then she started the spanking. Steve's mom spanked fast and furious, though not as hard as my father. Then again, I was not as small as Steve. Maybe my father's spankings were every bit as hard as those Mrs. Holgn was administering when I was eight; I couldn't remember. Her right arm would rise up about a foot between each spank, then quickly fall. Again, and again, and again. She spanked his bottom thoroughly. Then, she relaxed the grip she had on his legs, and continued to spank Steve up and down his bare legs and bottom. After about a minute or two of this she stopped and placed Steve on his feet in front of her.
"Didn't I tell you not to go into that forest? Don't you realize that my rules are made for your own good. You could have been attacked by a rabid animal. When I tell you not to do something I expect to be obeyed, do you understand me?"
Steve was crying too hard to answer.
With that she picked him up again and started the whole process over. Again the delivery was hot and furious. Steve's bottom, which had been a bright pink at the end of the first round began to turn a bright red. Mrs. Holgn even spanked Steve's lower legs.
Again she stopped and stood Steve in front of her.
"What gave you the idea that it was all right to break my rules? Did you think that I wouldn't spank you because Bobby is staying with us? or that you would escape a spanking by backing away from me? Well, you're wrong!"
With that last remark, she pulled Steve over her knee yet again, and started a third round of spankings. Steve was no longer howling as loud as in the beginning. He was exhausted, but the spanking continued unabated, i. e., with the same furor as at the start. His backside was red all over; from his waist down to the top of his socks.
When she finished round three, she again placed Steve in front of her. "I want you to go stand in the corner now Stefan, and think about what you have learned."
Steve turned toward the foyer. In the year ahead, I discovered that this was Steve's "corner spot", a spot that was visible from the outside hallway if/when their door was open - I know this to be true because I saw Steve's backside a time or two when/if his mother or one of his sisters was standing at their door when I entered our building.
Now that Steve was headed for the foyer, his mother focused her attention on me. She pulled me towards her by the waist band of my blue jeans, and started to unbuckle my pants. I was really scared. My father had never spanked me like that, and besides, I was innocent. I didn't know the forest was off limits. I started to cry and tell her that I had done nothing wrong. She pulled my pants off and then lifted my outer shirt above my head, leaving me dressed in just my underwear. Then she spoke.
"Stop your crying. I'm not going to spank you. Stefan should have told you the forest was off limits, he didn't. If he had, or if I had told you myself, and you had gone into the woods anyway, then I'd spank you. I'd give you the same treatment I just gave Stefan, maybe more, as you are bigger. But, under the circumstances, you have not done anything to deserve a spanking; nothing that I know about anyway?"
"You and Stefan are not going out anymore today. You can play around the house now, and when Stefan is finished in the corner, the two of you can go up to his room and play together."
It was only Saturday, 1:30 pm, my parents would not get home until late Sunday evening. I could go on relating this narrative but Sunday was no different than Saturday except that Mrs. Holgn allowed me to dress early (for church). She took me to the church (we walked) and she was waiting outside when the services were over. She took me straight home; no pin ball machines this weekend. When I got to her house she made me take off my Sunday clothes and didn't allow me to get fully dressed again until mid-afternoon. Each evening I was given a bath, as previously described and made to sit in the living room with only a T-shirt or the tops of my PJs. My PJs were already getting too small for me. The sleeves were supposed to be full length but only extended about halfway down my lower arm. The tops, even when pulled down as far as I could stretch them, would not go much below my naval (belly button). I had to endure the humiliation of being exposed to Steve's sisters all evening, at least until 8:30. Every so often I would, without thinking, let my hands drop down in front of me and, when I did so, would stand accused of 'playing with myself'. Mrs. Holgn would make me go to the bathroom in the foyer to wash my hands. When I'd return, she'd say something like "Now try not to keep touching yourself." Invariably, I'd get a hard-on and end up standing in the corner. I was sure happy when bedtime rolled around; I'd have gladly gone to bed immediately following the bath.
Monday morning, I got up bright and early, borrowed a pair of Steve's underpants (way too small, but I squeezed them on anyway), and was soon pounding at the front door of my apartment; Mrs. Holgn had not returned my key. My father was up already, getting ready for work. He asked if I'd enjoyed myself at Mrs. Holgn's. I told him NO. He asked If I'd gotten into any trouble that he should know about. Again, I said NO, then ran to the safety of my room.
Later, that evening, Mrs. Holgn came over to question my father about whether or not I was allowed to play in the forest by myself. She also told my father that I was constantly touching myself and, becoming aroused.
My father listened to her but did not pursue the matter with me while she was at our house. He did ask later for an explanation. I told him how I'd spent the weekend. He explained that this was apparently a custom that Mrs. Holgn carried over from her childhood, a custom that may or may not have been that uncommon in the community where she grew up. My father commiserated with me over what had obviously been an embarrassing experience and told me that he would not make me stay at the Holgn's again; he never did.