Punishment doesn’t always come at a convenient time.

By a new writer to our website.

By Martin Elliott

I don’t know why I told her about my mother, or more specifically her preferred method of punishment. Well… I do know. I just wish I hadn’t had to. Me and Rachel are close friends and were once what you might call best friends but recently not so much. But then she found out my closest kept secret.

My sister and I argue all the time. Eighteen or not, siblings argue. When things get out of hand we get punished. Mother’s punishments usually involve a hefty whack or more… to the rear. Complaining makes things worse. Simple. And neither of us would prefer to lose privileges like the car or house key.

* * * *

“What are we having for tea?” Shouted my sister from the living room whilst I entered the kitchen in search of grub.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you get up and help? I’ll just make myself something otherwise.” I replied, more than a little bit pissed off. Liv had been a proper pain-in-the-butt recently, particularly when Mum went out on her weekly Thursday evening trip to God-knows-where.

Hunting around in the kitchen I realised how little there was to cook with. As if answering my unspoken wishes my sister slid a pizza pamphlet across the side with a tenner on top. I didn’t need telling twice and duly ordered two pizzas. Nothing extravagant. Plain Margherita. It was only when I paid the money that my sister thought to inform me it had come from the pot where mother keeps things for when she might need them later. Slightly peeved, I tucked into the pizza thinking at least we could replce the money before it was missed.

* * * *

Monday Night

“Martin, come in here please,” Mum asked. Did I think to infer anything from her slight raised voice? Or the edge that cut through the air? No.

Walking into the kitchen I found my sister sat dully on the edge of a hard, brown, kitchen chair and Mum looking down rather furiously, a piece of paper in one hand looking a little worse for wear. A closer glance revealed it was the pizza pamphlet from the other day.

“Would you happen to know where ten pounds went from my pot?”

Now I could have owned up. But a glance at my sister and, I don’t know, I just froze. I was going to. I swear.

Four words was all it took to get Mum red in the face. “No not at all.”

In an instant she had hold of one of our ears and marched us both into the living room without another word. Placing Liv against the fireplace she ordered her to pull her PJ bottoms down. Of course Liv didn’t. With a stern glance at me and an order to go stand by the sofa Mum proceeded to pull down Liv’s bottoms and smacked the backs of her legs several times until they were neatly adorned with handprints. After a sharp: “Stay there!” Mum came over to me.

I could have run. I could have bawled it was Liv’s fault. But in a way I deserved this. I DID hand over the money and anyway I’m not cruel enough to leave the entirety of my mother’s anger to fall on my sister.

Without a word Mum pointed at my own PJ bottoms and, catching a glance of my still whimpering sister out of the corner of my eye, I pulled them down enough to just reveal my Y-front clad bottom. Wanting to get this over with I jumped over my Mum’s knee trying to placate her budding fury.

Taking off her slipper, Mum proceeded to lecture me on the sins of stealing and lying. For five minutes I felt Mum’s fury and, going on the basis of how hot it got, my bottom quickly reddened up.


The sound of my phone ringing and vibrating in my PJ’s dangling by my knees filled the room. Mum continued on apparently unaware before grabbing my phone from my pocket and shoving it in my hands.

“Answer it.”

Looking at the phone, I saw the call was from Rachel… my best friend.

“Mum please…” My complaint fell on deaf ears though and so I answered.

“Hey you! Fancy coming to the cinema tonight?” Rachel asked, entirely unaware of my predicament over my Mum’s knee.

“Rachel I’m kind of…” My sentence got drowned out by a sudden barrage of smacks to my bottom.

“What’s that? Are you alright? It sounds as if someone is getting spa-“

“Sorry, I’ve got to go. Me and Olivia are in trouble. Bye!” I replied, and dropped my phone in my haste to stop the conversation.

“You…” SMACK “…will…” SMACK “…not” SMACK “…steal!” SMACK SMACK. Several slaps to the backs of my legs brought the slippering to a stinging conclusion.

“Go stand next to your sister and don’t you dare rub your bottom,” ordered Mum. Sliding off her lap, I moved to pull my pants up before a flurry of smacks on my legs accompanied a sharp order to keep them down. Waddling over to the fireplace, I placed my nose against the wall and resisted the urge to rub my hot bottom.

My sister did not have long to wait before being dragged over to the sofa. Behind me I could hear her screaming and crying and before long she was back next to me. Our trousers had fallen to our ankles displaying patchy red legs and our underwear had conveniently ridden up dividing two bright cheeks. Quiet descended upon the room as Mum got her breath back and Liv and I stood at attention beside the fireplace and sniffled – two well chastised teens!

The End