Friday, June 12, 2009

The spoon, F/ff rl

For those that like childhood memories....

When I was growing up, all of my friend's moms had spanking rights. They pretty much treated you like they did their own daughters, so you got to experience a lot of different styles. Each mom seemed to have her own little routine and favorite implement. My mom's standby, for example, was the brush, followed by the paddle. Others favored the belt. But one of the mom's weapon of choice was ALWAYS the spoon.

Now, I REALLY liked Mrs. Johnson, cause she was different than anyone else around. I grew up on a farm in the midwest, and the people that settled there were Irish, Germans, Norwegians and Swedes. That was pretty much it. Except for Mrs. Johnson.

See, even though she had the basic scandinavian last name, she was Italian, as in was born in Italy and not Italian-American, and met her husband while he was stationed over there. And opposed to all the nordic types, with the fair skin and blonde hair, she and her daughters were olive complected, with black hair, and black eyes, and she was stunning.

She also spent almost all her time (or so it seemed to me) cooking for her family of 8. And it seemed as if almost all the real family life took place in the kitchen as well. You know, like homework, and playing games on the kitchen table, or just talking or having her teach us all to cook. She had this wonderful set of wooden spoons, that were all smooth and polished with use, she said they were olive wood, and they just felt nice in your hand. They didn't feel so nice on your bottom though!

My friend Maria, was the baby of the family, and would quite often get by with murder. Many times, SHE would be the one causing trouble,and one of her older sisters would be the one who got punished for it, which Maria thought was a hoot.

Well, this one fine fall day, Maria had been sniping back and forth with one of her sisters. The men were all out in the fields for harvest, and her mom was getting a lot of food ready for when they came in that night after dark. Now, Maria convinced me that it would be funny to spike the stew her mom had cooking, and that we could always blame it on her sister. Now, I was a big chicken, but I went along with it anyways.

Our plan didn't go that well though, we were caught right as Maria was dumping stuff in the stew. Her mom was furious (and rightly so)! She was so mad she was yelling in Italian, which is REALLY scary when you don't speak any. Next thing I knew, she had us each by an ear and led us over to the table, and bent us over it. Then she took our jeans down, and pulled our panties down as well and went and got one of her big old spoons.

I got blistered first, and the only thing that kept me there were my pants around my ankles, and her hand on my back. I was still laying there crying, when I figured out that the OTHER howling I was hearing was Maria. And man, as bad as I got it, she got it WAY worse. Her mom had had enough of her babies pranks. When her spanking was done, she put us each into a different corner ,and then pulled our panties up and told us to stay there, Or Else!

So we stayed (the only reason we got to keep our panties on was because the men were supposed to be coming in soon, and it wouldn't have been proper for them to see us bare, but if we pushed it....) where she told us, and she went back to work on making some more food, all the time muttering something in Italian.

Maria's sisters teased us quite a bit, and her mom didn't stop them like she normally would have. To make matters worse, they told all their friends at school the next day too. At least her mom didn't tell my mom. But I was worried that she would be mad at me, but the next time I was over, she smiled at me, and put me to work in the kitchen, and then she told me to be a good girl and gave me a little reminder swat on the butt with the spoon in her hand, smiling all the while.


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