My father died when I was a toddler. A few years later, when I was a precocious and often bratty seven-year-old, my mother remarried. Alex, my new stepfather, was nice enough but a threat to my position at the center of my mother's universe. In addition, he felt my mother was too lenient with me. Soon after their marriage he sat down with me for a little chat.
"It's time we talked about discipline. Here's the deal: if you do something wrong and I think it's bad enough, I'll warn you that if you do it again you'll get a spanking. Then, if you do it again, I'll spank you. We'll go into your room and you'll pull down your pants and underpants. Then I'll lay you across my lap and smack your bottom until I think you've been punished enough. Do you understand?"
"What if I run away from you?"
"I'll catch you and you'll still get your spanking."
"What if I kick and scream?"
"It won't work. I'll still spank you. But I'll tell you something important: if I decide to spank you, I expect you to cooperate. If I have to chase you around and get kicked, then I'll spank you a second time for that, the next day."
"What if I kick you the next day, too?"
"Then I'll spank you for that, on the day after. It could go on forever if you don't figure out you have to cooperate. Do you understand?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know if you understand?"
"I don't know if I'll cooperate."
"The best thing would be to be such a good boy you never get spanked to begin with."
"Don't know if I can be that good."
"Fair enough. Hardly any boy can be, actually. But then you have to take your punishment when it comes."
"We'll see."
"I imagine we will."
Naturally I had to test this state of affairs. Not long afterwards I refused to eat my dinner on the grounds that it was "yucky." When my mother insisted, I threw my fork on the floor and shoved my plate away from me. Alex told me he would have none of this behavior at the dinner table and that if I did it again he would spank me.
At lunch the next day, Sunday, I did it again. Alex said, "I warned you about this. When I've finished my lunch, you and I will go up to your room. You're going to get a spanking."
When he finished his lunch and stood up from the table, I bolted from the room. It took him about three strides to catch me. He grabbed me firmly by the arm and marched me up the stairs to my room. I squirmed and shoved trying to get away but he was not fazed.
Once in my room he closed the door and sat on the bed. "All right," he said, "Take down your pants."
"No!" I said.
He reached out and grabbed me, pulling me to him. I flailed. He lay me on my back on the bed and managed to get my trousers undone as I fought. Then he yanked my pants and underwear to my ankles and put me across his lap. He tried to hold me down with his left hand but I squirmed too much, so he ended up placing his right leg over my legs, trapping them in place, so my bottom was over his left leg and vulnerable.
He spanked me vigorously until I was bawling loudly, probably 12 or 15 good, hard swats. My bottom was on fire. Then he stood me back on my feet and gave me a hug while I rubbed my sore rear, still crying.
"There," he said. "I hope you'll be better behaved at table from now on. And remember, I want you to cooperate when I give you a spanking. Today you didn't at all, so tomorrow you're going to get another spanking. I leave early for the office, so it will have to be when I come home from work."
At this I started howling even more loudly. "Be a big boy," he advised, and left me.
The next day all I could think about was the spanking I was going to get when Alex came home from work. I imagined myself over his knees again, my pants pulled down, my naked bottom being slapped. It produced a variety of strange feelings in me, not all of them unpleasant. Still, my anxiety was high. When Alex came home that night, my fright got the better of me and I ran away again. This time I had more of a head start and had actually made it out the back door before he caught up with me.
He took me by the hand and we went up the stairs to my room. I could hardly believe I was going to get another spanking. I didn't try to get away any more. But once in my room, when he told me to pull my pants down, I turned around and went for the door. He grabbed me by the back of the pants and pulled me back. I started bawling and just stood there as he unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, then pulled them down along with my underwear. Back I went over his lap. This time I didn't kick or squirm, but just lay there waiting. I got the same spanking I'd got the first time, and it hurt just as much, and I cried just as loudly.
Alex gave me another hug. "There, he said, that's over. One more tomorrow for resisting me again tonight. But tomorrow I expect you'll cooperate, won't you?" I nodded through my tears.
The next day I was once again preoccupied by the spanking I would get that evening. I stood in front of the dressing mirror in my room with my pants down looking back at my bum and imagining what it would look like later. I plumped up a pillow on my bed and lay across it, still with my pants down, pretending it was Alex's lap and he was about to spank me. I reached back and spanked my own bottom as well as I could, imagining.
When Alex got home I didn't run. I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and as he approached I started up calmly. He came into step beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. "Hi, soldier," he said. "Let's get it over with and that'll be that for a long time, eh?"
He sat on my bed and I stood right next to him and pushed down my own pants and underwear. I had a weird feeling in my stomach and I felt an odd tingling between my legs and in my bottom. I leaned over his lap and he hoisted me up the rest of the way. He spanked me just as hard and long as the previous two evenings. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for each smack, anticipating them, almost welcoming them. I couldn't help crying because it was a blazing hard spanking, but I was all right. I accepted the punishment, I cooperated, and that put me in control. And that was the way it was for all subsequent spankings. Anxious, hesitant, I nevertheless went along with every punishment Alex gave me, without a peep of resistance, and he and I got along fine. And I always got a hug when it was over.