P4 the Bent Spoons


by Graham Anderson <Gr_anderson@hotmail.com>

[The folowing is the 4th stories in a series of spanking memories in the pre-teen years. Comments and writing requests welcome: gr_anderson@hotmail. com]

A few times when I acted out and pushed the limits, the spanking seemed a small price to get a rise out of mom and dad. Other times, I made the unfortunate choice to push their buttons at the wrong times, and my butt paid a memorable price.

Like many kids, I liked to eat ice cream. My mom was good enough to buy the big tubs of it quite frequently. Even though they were vanilla (or what my brother and I called "plain") we got to have a lot of ice cream.

One thing that really pissed my dad off was that all we had to serve up ice cream were regular soup spoons. He got particularly frustrated because those spoons weren't very strong against the cold rigid ice cream. So he finally told my mom to pick up a proper ice cream scoop.

Well it took my mom a week or so to buy the scoop, and two spoons were bent during that time. My dad was the first to bend one in sheer frustration. I caught on and bent another one as if to join the process. My dad laughed it off.

So finally we had the new ice cream scoop. It was a cool metallic one, and even had a lever that ejected the ice cream. Dad was the first to use it the first day we got it. I tried it out as well and it worked great. Then I got an idea.

I washed out the ice cream scoop, dried it off, and carried it away with me. I had to hide it somewhere. Some place no one would look. Yeah...underwear drawer. No one looks there. At least not under that pile of like 200 socks my grandmother kept supplying me with.

After dinner the next night, dad took the ice cream tub out of the freezer and searched for the scoop. "Where is that new scoop dear?" he asked my mom.

"I don't remember washing it. Graham did you put it somewhere?" my mom said. "No wait a minute, I wonder if it went into that bag for some reason."

"What bag?" Dad asked.

"I might have thrown it out dear." My mom said sheepishly.

"Well I guess we'll have to get another one." Dad said. "Threw it out. Geesh. How much did that cost?!" he said under his breath. With that he put the lid back on the ice cream and re-shelved it in the freezer.

"Can I just use a spoon then," I said as I went up to get my ice cream that night.

"Yup go a head and bend another one until mom learns to get proper kitchen supplies around here," my dad said sarcastically.

"Give me a break dear!" mom replied to him.

Delightfully I went ahead and plunged into the ice cream with the weak shafted spoon. I could see my mother clinching as it bent lifting out of the ice cream. She wanted to have my ass, but knew that dad said what I was doing was okay.

A total of four spoons were bent that week (including the two before we got the scoop). I knew that as long as I was poised in the middle of their disagreement, I could get away with almost anything. It was fun.

The fun ended however, right after dinner on Friday. My little brother Brett went up to get some ice cream. This was unusual because he didn't usually like this kind of ice cream, unless it was "soft" like at McDonalds.

To my horror, he pulled out the metal ice cream scoop.

My mom was the first to notice, and yelled out "HEY! Where did you get that ice cream scoop...You've been hiding it you little...just because you don't like ice cream doesn't mean---."

"You mean this scoop," Brett replied holding it up. "I just bought this today. Graham's been hiding the other one in his underwear drawer since the day you bought it"

I could have killed him right there. That's if the look of death from both mom and dad didn't kill me first.

The whole family raced to my bedroom where my underwear drawer was opened for all to see. I protested to such embarrassment, as Mom began to toss out rainbows of briefs and white socks by the handful. And of course, at the bottom of the drawer was the nice silver new ice cream scoop. She picked it up and headed right for me.

Mom grabbed me by the arm and led me toward my bed. Knowing her look it meant one of two things: a spanking, or a really bad spanking.

Dad said "Don't worry I will punish him".

Mom looked back and said, "You'll have to take a number."

When at the bed mom reached around my waist, unbuttoned and pulled down my jeans. She then pulled the back of my underpants down, grasped my thigh and hoisted me up over her knee.

On the first spank, I realized she was using the ice cream scoop. Ouch. It had a really small surface area, but stung the areas it managed to hit. She had a real good swing of it too.

When she was done she lifted me up and basically threw me to my dad. I was near the threshold of uncontrolled tears, but not quite there yet. In addition to a sore butt, I noticed that my briefs were now down to my ankles. My little brother was standing there watching the whole thing, that tattle.

Dad sat down on the edge of my desk chair and pulled me over his knee. My now red and bare butt was pointed straight to the ceiling. He gave me pretty much an all out spanking with his hand. He continued on past my tears and cries. He had certainly reached the "threshold".

When I was released, I quickly pulled up my underwear and pants. My little brother watched as I re-packed my undies and socks into the top drawer. 'I will get him back' I thought to my self.

That day I learned a number of things that continue to help me through life. 1) When you set tow people against each other and they find out, you get ganged up on, 2) Don't count on your underwear drawer being a secure private place, 3) Never depend on loyalties of younger siblings, and if you do, never believe that they will keep their mouth shut, and 4) Don't anger your mother when she has a kitchen utensil in her hand.


More stories by Graham Anderson