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Rated: 13+ · Other · Biographical · #993287
A recollection of one of my childhood spankings.
Author Note: This is a real life account of one of my childhood spankings that later served as the basis for a fictional short story. It is not graphic and it is not severe. It was just a part of my childhood. I'm sure some will see it as cruel and I'm sure other people will get a good laugh out of it. As for me, it was just one of those many events that made me who I am today.
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One year, when my grandparents and I were going on our annual trip to visit my aunt, we had a bit of a problem.

Ok, so it was more like I had a bit of a problem.

Midway through our trip we stopped to eat. We got out of the car and made our way over to the crowded picnic area of the rest stop so that we could set things up.

I should point out that on this particular afternoon I was NOT in a good mood and as such I was a pretty grouchy kid. The reason I was grouchy was probably because I was tired. Every time we went to see my aunt we always got up at 5:00 AM to leave so that we could "beat traffic." To an eight year old that's pretty darn early!

We had just sat down to eat and to be quite honest I was REALLY hungry. I was not, however, in the mood for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I asked my grandmother in the sweetest and most innocent voice I had if instead of eating here we could go to McDonald's .

The reason I asked my grandmother instead of my grandfather was simple. It was well known that in our family grandpa never did get to make any decisions.

Nope!
No Sir!

It was always grandma who decided everything. Everything had to go through her first and grandpa would just follow, almost like a mindless slave, in her footsteps.

I don't remember exactly what she said, but I do remember it was a no answer and I also remember I started throwing quite the temper tantrum. That tantrum consisted of me throwing my plate of yucky peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to the ground, kicking the table, and engaging in not so nice public behavior.

I’m sure the people around us probably did not enjoy my little episode. I can’t remember if anyone said anything or not, but I do remember that the general look on other people’s faces was that of displeasure.

On seeing me act like a complete brat my grandmother decided that it was time to go. It didn’t take my grandparents long to finish eating and pack things up so they could get me out of there without me further embarrassing them.

I, of course, after we had got back on the road, sat in the back-seat pouting with my arms crossed and teeth clenched. My hazel eyes glared ahead of me at the woman who I normally thought was the greatest person in the whole word. On that afternoon I no longer saw her that way. No, she was now my number one enemy.

My grandmother was driving and my grandfather, considering he was the one who had been driving since early morning, was trying to get some sleep. Shortly after we had got started we passed by a McDonald's sign and I started yelling and screaming, yet again, that I wanted to go to McDonald's. My grandmother, who was starting to become quite frustrated with my behavior, looked back at me and told me those seven words no kid wants to hear.

"Don't make me pull this car over!"

Well, I had no intentions of her pulling the car over! I just wanted my McDonald's.

I kept on harping at her, telling her I would simply DIE if I didn't get some chicken McNuggets! I begged, I pleaded, I even kicked the back of her seat! All the while you could tell that she was growing more and more impatient.

She finally told me to cut it out and mentioned that I had my chance to eat and I chose not to do so and as a result I would have to do without until dinner time that night. Frustrated by her comments, I slumped against the back-seat, kicked her seat once more as hard as I could, and muttered something like "You stupid old $#%#."

Oooooooooooooops!

That was NOT the right thing to say, nor the right time to say it.

Here grandma was trying to drive and at the same time she was attempting to look back and yell at me. My poor grandfather was sitting right next to her trying to sleep, despite her raised voice. He winced a little, due to her loud shouting, and put his hands over his ears. I found all of this a pretty comical sight and started to get giggly. I guess my grandmother thought I was laughing at her.

The next thing I knew the car was pulling off to the side of the road and skidding to a stop. As soon as the car stopped a panicked look came over my face, my eyes grew wide and I started to freak out.

I quickly reached over and locked the back-seat passenger door with my chubby little fingers. After doing so I cowered back against that door, trying my best to make myself as small as I possibly could. In my mind I started praying, only I'm pretty sure that considering the circumstances the prayer I was thinking wasn't very coherent.

My grandmother got out of the car and stuck her head of puffy black hair in through the back door on the driver's side. By this time I was wishing I would had thought to lock that door as well. I started screaming for someone, no, ANYONE to help me. My thought was my grandpa, who I loved to death, would surely save me. He, after all, always did his best to help me out in my times of need.

That didn't seem to be in the good Lord's plans though, as my grandfather was just sitting there, eyes closed. If he really wasn't asleep he sure could have won an award for pretending.

My grandmother started to get in the car and make her way toward me. I, not willing to go down without a fight, kicked at her with all the might that I could get out of my little legs, praying and hoping that some divine intervention would take place.

It did.

Only.. not in my favor.

My kick missed my grandmother's face by a mere few inches and she wasted no time in grabbing me while I was still vulnerable. In what was probably the beat of a heart I was laying face down in the back-seat of the car getting my little backside warmed. Not quite the divine intervention I had in mind.

She didn't spank me very long and knowing the type of woman that she was I seriously doubt she even did it as hard as she could. I do remember that little old me thought it hurt an awful lot.

Pity I never did get to go to McDonalds that day. You would have thought after all that I would have earned it.

The rest of the trip was too long to be sitting from my point of view and I was quite thankful when we finally did reach our destination.

What do I think about all of this now?

Well, just between you and I, I still think grandpa should have saved me!
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