A general note: it seems that Swedish parents spanked a lot 60-40 years ago. Especially in rural, and religious areas. I (Marcus) translated some of them to English (that is, supposedly real stories from older Swedes who experienced disciplinary spanking). The pictures come from my collection which I built up in my computer over the years, so please just don't mind that the implements in the stories are sometimes not what they should be in the pictures!
Here comes a story about a spanking in the South of Sweden.
Gabriella: spanking with the brushI grew up in Småland (a province south of Stockholm) in the 50's, when spankings still were commonly occurring. I was myself spanked a lot as a child. My mom spanked me, and my two sisters, while my dad mostly spanked my brother. Dad usually used the belt on my brother and on some rare occasions on my sisters and me.
Usually we were sent up to mom and dad’s bedroom when it was time to get spanked. Once there, you had to wait for mom to arrive. Mom kept us waiting, to give us time to reflect about what was going to happen. After what felt like an eternity she arrived and stepped in the room with a strict look on her face.
"Gabriella, you know what you’ve done so let’s get this over with. Lift your skirt to your waist and pull the panties down!"
If it was hand-spanking, mom sat down on the bed while you had to lie down in her lap.
If it was the wooden bath brush that were to slap your butt, mom piled some pillows on the foot board at the end of the bed. Then your torso would rest on the bed and the pillows raised the hips so that your back was arched and your butt cheeks pointed straight up in the air. The legs were draped along the foot board, and the feet where touching the floor. Mom always forced me to part my legs so that I wouldn’t clench my butt during the punishment. That made it hurt even more, and it also made it harder not to cry when you where unable to clench when the brush smacked you. I believed that I was alone in having to part my legs during spankings, but after surfing some the Internet I realize now that that it wasn’t the case.
Normally mom used her hand to vigorously spank our butts for a couple a minutes, usually that meant a couple hundred spanks over all of the cheeks and some of the thighs. In my teens, when mom used the bath brush, I never got less then 50 spanks on my butt. If you made a fuss during the spanking, put your legs together, threw your hands back or tried to twist around, you got 10 extra strokes for each “offense”, unless you fussed before the first 25 strokes had been given, in which case mom stared from the beginning, from zero. In the times that I got many extra strokes, I just couldn’t control myself and I “fussed” again and again, and I received extra strokes upon extra strokes. During those instances, my mom called dad to hold me down while she continued to spank and spank.
I screamed, howled and cried rivers during these sessions, but my mom just continued spanking mechanically until I received all the spanks. It was terrible, my butt was filled with yellow and purple bruises and the skin was deep red. After the punishment I had to kiss mom’s hand, make a curtsy and thank her for the punishment while the tears were flowing down my face. Then it was straight to bed!
Here is another story from that collection of "confessions", more severe, and this time from the north of Sweden.
My name is Ulrika and I’m 53 years old. I have read the stories on your page and I though that I could write some about my own upbringing. I was raised with spankings and as Lisa (Ed: another person who contributes to the collection of stories), I don’t think highly about my parents. As in Lisa’s case, I nevertheless am fascinated by spanking and find it to be a turn on.
I grew up in the northern provinces, in a small village, where everybody, including my parents, where deeply religious. Almost all children where raised by strict parents, and spankings where absolutely nothing uncommon. Sometimes you could notice how your classmates grimaced when the sat down in school. Then you knew that they had been spanked the previous day.
We went to church every week and the clergyman advised the parents that children needed to be spanked when naughty. When it came to spanking, my parents where no exceptions, today however, I wouldn’t call it spanking, but rather verging on abuse. But spanking was legal at the time so I had nothing to say about it. You just had to accept that you got spanked if you misbehaved. I can’t even remember the first time I got spanked, it was something that followed me through all of my childhood.
When I was younger both my mom and my dad spanked me. Usually I was placed over the lap. I believe that spankings always were given on the bare butt, except when in public. Then it was only skirt up or pants down. Mom and dad spanked with the hand until my butt was deep red. I was always spanked until I was reduced to blubbering. According to mom, who had a similar upbringing, it was important to the break the will of the child. That meant that spankings where given until, you where so exhausted that you just lay still and took the spanking despite burning and aching butt cheeks.
When I became a bit older, around 10-12, my parents started to use a wooden hairbrush to spank me with for more serious “crimes”. My grandma used the same hairbrush to spank my mom when she was young. It wasn’t unusual for my grandparents to be around when I get spanked. At one of those instances, I was about 10, when I just climbed out of mom’s lap after a spanking, my grandma said to mom:
"Isn’t Ulrika a bit to old for hand-spanking? You’re spoiling the girl. When you where in Ulrika’s age you certainly got the hairbrush."
"Yes, I sure remember that," mom answers.
"I still have the brush at home, I’ll bring it so you can start spanking Ulrika for real when she
When I heard this I got scared and my crying increased. And since then I got to feel the smacking of that brush.
This was much worse then and-spanking, but after a couple of years you got used to the brush as well. When I was about 14, a new spanking implement was introduced. From now on it was that carpet beater for more serious “crimes”. I wasn’t always given the carpet beater; sometimes I was still spanked over that lap with the hairbrush. I never got used to the carpet beater, and it was really awful to get it. I was as scared and nervous the first time I was going to get it as in the last time, which was just some weeks before I turned 21.
My parents further thought that the humiliation was as important part of the punishment as the actual pain. So when I reached puberty, and started to become a woman, dad was the one giving me the spankings. Imagine how embarrassing it was as a teenager being naked in front of your dad, especially in the position, in which I received the carpet beater.
I would like to tell you all about the spankings I got when I was 16-17, and older. When I’d done something bad, dad said:
"Well Ulrika, then you and I will have to have one of our special conversations with each other."
The “conversation” simply implied me lying in over dad’s lap or on the bed, receiving a big spanking. I was given ether the hairbrush or the carpet beater. I wasn’t told which one I was going to get, instead I was sent up to my room in order to prepare. That meant that I had to remove all my clothing except for my socks and my bra. Then it was the waiting. Sometimes dad waited a full hour before he arrived to spank me. Sitting virtually naked on the bed, waiting was awful, and feeling the fear grows stronger and stronger. Would he come in 5, 20 or 60 minutes? The lump in my throat and the butterflies in my belly almost made me “pee in my pants”. Would I get the hairbrush over the lap, or would I get the dreadful carpet beater? How many strokes? Would I be told the number of strokes before the spanking? Would I have to count them?
And then, finally, I could hear dad’s steps up the stairs. If he instantly went to my door, I knew it was going to be the hairbrush that would spank me to tears. If it there was a long pause, some very long seconds, and I heard the hallway closet being opened, then I knew that he was going to get the carpet beater.
Klick, klack, Klick , klack, the steps echoed outside my door and then it became quiet. I tensed in anticipation as I stared at the door handle to my room, would it be pushed down instantly? Klick, some squeaking, the hallway closet opened. I froze in terror when I realized that it was the carpet beater that shortly would be swishing down on my butt. Dad opened the door holding the carpet beater, I instantly stood up, legs shaking.
"So, my daughter, as you can see your mother and I have decided that you need a dose of the carpet beater."
"How many will I get dad?"
"We’ll see, until I think that you had enough and your resistance is gone, buy the way, you don’t have to count them today sweetie."
That meant that the worst spanking awaited me. Not being told the number of strokes meant that it would be a lot. That I, on top of that, didn’t have to count them meant that the punishment was going to be very severe. Dad knew that it wasn’t any idea for me trying to count the strokes anyway when the strokes were many. I still lost count regardless due to the terrible pain.
"Okay, Ulrika, get the pillow!"
In my cabinet I had an especially thick and hard pillow, which I was placed over when given the carpet beater. I got the pillow and placed it in the middle of the bed.
"Then, lie down over the bed!"
I climbed up on the bed and draped myself over the pillow so that the lower part of my belly was resting on it. Then it was just to wait for my dad’s instructions, that would put my butt into the most vulnerable position possible.
"Ulrika, move forward a bit!"
I slide forward, feeling how my butt being raised further up in the air.
"Good, assume the spanking position!"
Ooooh, assuming this familiar position was really awful. I brought my arms forward and gripped the edge of the bed, buried my face in the mattress, arched my lower back, and parted my legs. I stared snivelling some when I parted my legs so that the knees where about 50-60cm (20-24”) from each other. Now I was in the position I been taught to be in when given the carpet beater. My butt was now the highest point of my body and my butt cheeks where ready for the punishment. I was painfully aware how it looked, and what I displayed in front of dad. With the butt pouting up and my cheeks apart, nothing was left to the imagination, my vagina and my anus were both displayed. My “lower lips” were also parted some.
"Good Ulrika, let’s start. If you put your legs together, twist your hips or let go of the grip of the bed frame, you and I will have to have yet another conversation tomorrow, right?"
"Yes dad," I answered pitifully.
If I didn’t cooperate during the punishment, I knew that I could expect an additional spanking the following day. Every time I put my legs together, let go of the bed frame I would receive 6 more spanks the next day, in the exact same position, and with the carpet beater. Dad and I both knew that I was bound to fail to comply if he only hit me long and hard enough. I actually suspect that he sometimes did it on purpose sometimes just to have the pleasure to spank me again the next day too.
Dad lay the carpet beater on my butt for a while, the he tapped my butt with it for a couple of seconds. Then he rubbed my butt with it. This gave me with strange sensations. The knot in my belly grew bigger, but it also started to tingle between my legs. The feeling of the carpet beater this close to my genitals aroused me. This added to my shame and humiliation as my lips started swelling, and I could feel hoe the clitoris stiffened. Dad must have observed this, but he never said a single word about I during all the years I was spanked in this position. Over the years I got more and more turned on by the spankings. The last times, when I was in my 20’s, I know that I even was wet.
I felt the carpet beater raise from my butt cheeks and I prepared myself for the first blow. I tried to relax, although it wasn’t exactly easy. I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw and hugged the bed frame tightly. BANG! The first stroke hits my wide-open butt, and that hard. For a tenth of a second nothing was felt, then the sting and burn washes over you. I clenched my jaw even more without making a sound. Swish BANG! The next stroke lands on the same spot, right in the middle of my butt. I’m still quiet. BANG! The stroke hits my left cheek only, and the tip of the carpet beater wraps around, hitting the inside of that cheek very close to the vagina. I grunt some, but I don’t scream. BANG! Ahaaa. Same stroke again, but this time the edge off the carpet beater hit close to my anus. The pain is so terrible that I scream for the first time. BANG! BANG! Aaaahhh Aeiii! Dad gives me two more in rapid succession across both cheeks. A faint “ah” leaves my lips and I can feel how the tears start to burn I my eyes. BANG! This one hits low on my right thigh, and now dad starts hitting as hard as he can. AAAhh! I scream a bit louder this time. BANG! Another one, full force, left thigh, and the edge of the carpet beater hit very close to my genitals. Now I lose it, I scream loudly Aaahh!!!! I sniffle and teardrop rolls down my face. BANG! The stroke hit my left thigh and a scream once more Aaahh!!!. The tears were now rolling steadily down my face, and my sobs increased. BANG! Ow! BANG! Ohh! BANG! Aaaouw ooohhhh! 3 strokes in rapid succession in the middle of the butt across both cheeks again. I start crying and the tears fell faster. BANG! BANG! Both ones hit my right cheek. BANG! Another one on the left cheek, and it hit my anus. AAHHHH, OOhhhhh, aowww, I scream for all that I’m worth, and I start to cry hysterically. I really try, with all my might, to keep my legs apart, but the pain is too bad, and I involuntarily put my legs together. Dad wait a couple of seconds until I’ve regained some of my self control.
"Ulrika, now we will have to have our “conversation” tomorrow as well. Part your legs again!"
I part them. Dad raises the carpet beater again, and brings it down with all his might on my lacerated butt. My cries and howls echoes through the house and I fling my head back for every blow. Dad waits patiently for me to resume my spanking-position before the next stroke. I cry non stop for the rest of the punishment. The tears were flooding and stream down my face, and I can feel how the mattress was soaked. After an endless row of strokes on my butt and thighs I loosen the grip of the bed frame two times in order to rub my butt. Dad carefully counted how many times that happened. Finally, after some more strokes, I run out of mental energy, and a collapse into a hiccupping, crying and sobbing pile, faintly shouting as the strokes continues to rain down my deep red, sore and skinned butt. My skin was scratched in some places. After an eternity, it ends. I lie down, immobilized, over the pillow that raises my butt for the carpet beater.
"Ulrika, you had 38 strokes. Your backside is really battered, but you’ve deserved it. You didn’t comply throughout the punishment so unfortunately we will have to do this tomorrow as well. You’ll get 18 strokes tomorrow evening. Do you have anything to say to me?"
"Thank you dad for punishing me. Sorry that I didn’t take my punishment so well."
"That’s good Ulrika. I send mom up so she can rub some ointment on your butt"
Dad pats my lower back, and kiss my forehead before leaving. Some minutes later my mom arrives. She sits down on the bed beside me, and patting and hugging me.
"Ohh, my little sweetie. Poor you, so much you’ve been spanked. But I know how it feels. Your grandpa had a real rattan cane that I got to taste on my bare butt."
I look at her, and I can see that she’s been crying. Mom always felt bad when I was to be spanked with the carpet beater. She washes my butt with a wet sponge, then she massage my butt with some ointment. She also gives me a couple of aspirins and a glass of water.
"So, try to get some sleep now dear"
I stand up, on shaking legs, remove the pillow and the bed spread. I crawl down under the sheets and lie down on my belly. I’m still crying. After about half an hour, my crying subsides to a faint sniffling. With the immediate pain gone, it starts to tingle down there once more. I can’t stop thinking back at my spanking, how I lay there, with the butt in the air, feeling the carpet beater dancing on my butt. I arch my back, raise my butt in a similar position to that which I’m spanked in. My right hand travels down to my pussy, I’m wet. I insert the right hand, middle- and index finger into my vagina and start thrusting them in and out. With my left hand I caress my clitoris until I finally cum in a fantastic orgasm.
===Hoped you liked the stories!