Kysa's Mom Spanks HARD
(TRUE, F/f, spank, hum)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.com

What a different experience some of you had with your moms from the one I have with my mom. My mom's name is Rita Braswell, just so you know.

Ever since I can remember, my mom has always been very strict with me. She wasn't ever mean, but if I didn't obey, misbehaved, or if I did something she said not to do, then I got a spanking. I was spanked until I left the house to go to college at age 18. As long as I was under her roof, then I was subject to her discipline, although it was really punishment to me, not 'discipline.' Her oft-repeated line throughout my life in times of turmoil between us was, "NO DAUGHTER OF MINE IS GOING TO ____!" And just fill in the blank: misbehave; mock me; act like that; embarrass me; touch one of my guests (which was what she called her boyfriends); and on and on.

Now, I know this sounds weird to you guys, and I don't know how you got spanked (if you did), but what follows is exactly how she would spank me, almost invariably.

I'd misbehave, or do something I wasn't supposed to, such as not being home from school by 4p, and she either KNEW or she'd be waiting for me. I'd go to her, always head down, about to cry, when she lift my chin with her hand, squeeze my cheeks, and say, "You know better, young lady. You're MY daughter, and you're going to obey, whether you like it or not!" If not those exact words, it'd be something different, but always with the 'You're MY daughter' routine.

Then I'd have to go to her bedroom, undress, and sit on the edge of the bed and wait for her to come. Sometimes she'd make me wait with requisite dread. Other times, she be right in. In her closet she kept a short belt-like strap that was about 2 inches wide, 25 inches long. Maybe a little longer. God, how I hated that thing. I still cringe at the thought of seeing it in my mind.

But then my mom would always undress down to her bra and panties. Don't ask why. My guess was she didn't want to perspire on or ruffle her dress or blouse. Then she come over to the bed, pull my chin up again and lecture me some more. I hated her little lectures almost as much as the whippings, and if I closed my eyes to her, she would get REALLY mad. Anyway, by that time I was always in tears, thinking I could get out if she just saw how sorry I was and how I would NEVER do it again, whatever it was this time. When she finally finished with her little lecture, then she would either bend me over the edge of the bed or lay me on the bed, or have me bend over and place my hands on top of the bed and start the whipping. Never fewer than 6 lashes. Sometimes more if I made her really mad. Always on the my asscheeks and the back of my thighs. Hardly ever on my legs.

God, did she ever hit hard! She played tennis several times a week and could swing a racquet, so she could also swing a belt with some strength behind it. Of course I never heard the sounds of the lashes, but I sure felt them electrify my ass and spine. If I could, I usually balled my fists under my chin or bit into them, supporting my face with buttocks exposed to her. She always briefly paused between the lashes.

SCHWACK!... pause
SCHWACK!... pause
SCHWACK!... pause
SCHWACK!... pause
SCHWACK!... pause
SCHWACK!... pause

Within six lashes I would be a bawling mess, ready to do whatever she wanted me to, from apologize to clean my room to clean the yard, the dishes, the clothes... anything. For days after a spanking, I was the best daughter in the world, perfect in fact. She liked 'that' Kysa, the obedient one. Any other Kysa was swiftly corrected with her form of 'discipline.'

Her attitude came in two colors: black and white, no grays allowed. Unlike other girls and how they behave with their mothers, HER daughter would mind her, obey, do as she was told, would behave like a nice young lady at all times, and wouldn't get away with anything. Anything period.

What was great about her was that once I got punished, she was okay again. Her again dissipated like mist. She never held a grudge or stayed mad. Even as I'd get up off the bed from a spanking, she'd be right there as I sat on the edge of the bed to lean in the hug me. At the end of any spanking I'd always end up a bawling, gasping mess of tears, trying to hug her so that she wouldn't be mad at me. I wanted her immediate acceptance and approval again. I wanted to be good in her eyes again, and not be seen as the 'bad girl' anymore.

I remember clearly time after time leaving her panties wet with my tears from hugging her so tight and telling her I was sorry. She'd put on fresh ones, of course. After every spanking, I didn't get to go to my room. That wouldn't be punishment. I had to put on my dress and go sit on the couch in the living room. I was not allowed to go sulk alone. I had to come in and demonstrate that I could behave, that I could be the good girl that she intended to raise in her house. So there I would sit, usually in a disheveled dress, wiping my tears, sobbing, and wondering how she caught me this time!

Some of you have told me how weird she was in the way she spanked me - making me undress, taking her clothes off, spanking with a strap/belt, etc., saying this was a sexual ritual with her. But it was no such thing. It was all practical. And it was the best way. I learned to behave, for the most part.


What is perhaps most unusual in all of this is that I thought it was normal for all kids, not just me. You've since told me otherwise in a million emails. Okay, so I didn't know this! I got spanked like this until I was 18! And as naive as I was/am about so many things in social situations and about hearing people, I thought EVERYONE got spankings, and got them pretty much like I did. I really did, no lie! Leslie's mom spanked her, too. One person maintained it might have been a pseudo-sexual experience for her, but I'm not sure. If it was, she didn't show it, or I never noticed. She was so mad at me during these times that I can't imagine any sexuality seeping through the experience. But if that was the case, why did she always hit SO hard? I would be bruised for days sometimes.

One instance of one of the WORST whippings I got was when Leslie and I took some pictures of me when I was 16. Leslie took photography classes in high school and did the yearbook thing, and I served as her subject. We took some photos of me doing sort of a strip tease, with me showing bra and eventually a breast just as a goof for fun. Guess who found them?

Of course, Mom did!

When she found them hidden in my chest of drawers, she waited till I got home, threw them on the table, and asked what I thought I was doing in them. (They were just flirtatious, striptease type photos) I was stunned. She tore them up one by one in front me. Next thing I know I'm being led down the hallway to her room by the hair. She got her strap while I undressed. She quickly shook off her dress, and proceeded to give me one of the worst whippings of my life. I'll never forget that day, although I'd like to repress it.

Question is, how bad would she spank me if she only knew what I was doing now? Thank goodness she's not on the net! Oddly, as a consequence, I enjoy being spanked by guys during or before sex. God, I can honestly say I love it, and it makes me feel 'special' if they do, I don't know why. I suppose if I ever had a son or daughter, I'd spank them, too. Maybe not as hard, though.



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The End
© Kysa Braswell
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