Please post comments relevant to the Handprints site.
Your childhood discipline memories are welcome.
Please DON'T post PHOTOS of juvenile spankings, LINKS to sites with such photos, or descriptions of spankings you gave your real life children.

Message:

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11:06pm 06-07-2019
Trevor
Love your website, have been looking at it for years and just now decided to leave a message in support, hope you continue! I think my favourites are Barb, Ann, Ruka (because he does lots of boys as well as girls), LW, KD, and SB. I have noticed a new artist sutanin in your last few updates. I really like his/her work, and I hope we continue to see more of it.
Thanks.
1:55pm 06-02-2019
ABR
I notice nearly all spankings are of girls. I kept track growing up & I got over 4 for every one my sister received. At school boys were regularly spanked, girls rarely & mostly by teachers that were their mons or grandmothers.
3:02am 04-29-2019
LBK
Since Haiku are now a thing, here are a few of mine:

Loud pops a shrill cry
More pops a girl is sobbing
Her bottom is red

I can see the floor
My bottom can feel the breeze
Then it just feels pain

I hear daddy's belt
Sliding out of his belt loops
Wet myself in fear

I hear the paddle
I hear my sister bawling
Will my butt be next

I cannot escape
Mommy holds me by the hands
My legs feel the switch

I feel her struggle
As she screams across my knees
Learning to obey
3:38pm 04-15-2019
HandPrince

Homepage url

http://thehandprints.com
The Secret Muse Of The Lonely Doll - By Brook Ashley.

"Some people (very few of whom were growing up when the book was first published in the 1950s) have implied that The Lonely Doll’s text and images expose a darkly troubled side of the author. They point to a scene in the book where Mr. Bear spanks Edith for being naughty, and are critical of Edith’s short dress that shows her petticoat. Without an understanding of the era in which the book was written, when most children were spanked and little girls wore short dresses, a single out-of-context photograph has become an easy target."
10:27am 04-14-2019
Al
I'll see your haiku and raise you a limerick.

Blooming cherry tree.
Little girl perched on top branch.
Who broke cookie jar?

Limerick from the old west:

Though her Pa's horse was fed, groomed and saddled,
"First," her Ma said, "she needs to be paddled."
Now THAT she can't stand,
But escape was at hand,
So she jumped on his horse and skedaddled.
4:02pm 04-05-2019
stripey7

Homepage url

http://stripey7.blogspot.com
Hello all!

Time to give our zen some kink with these spanking haiku. I hope you enjoy!

I'm tempted to sin
-- then remember my whipping.
I do as I'm told.

A little boy sobs
His heinie throbbing with pain
Naughtiness punished

My behind spanked raw,
I'm bawling like a baby.
I won't swear again.

Wrigg'ling on my knee
A tushie is turned scarlet
Errant daughter tamed
9:18pm 04-04-2019
Rosybott Girl
Another brilliant update. Thank you.
10:11pm 04-02-2019
drooaygah
You've been busy lately HP. Kudos!
1:39pm 03-30-2019
MIke
I love everything about this site. My favorite galleries are GJC, Lee Warner and Droo. Keep up the good work.
10:51pm 03-23-2019
Rosybott Girl
The little demon at the top of your “What’s New?” page appears to have been spanked for dropping and breaking a parcel. Can this be right? Surely, being a demon, she would be spanked for being careful and nice rather than naughty and clumsy?
2:04pm 03-17-2019
HandPrince

Homepage url

http://thehandprints.com
Three 11-year-old cartoon triplets get spanked again:

http://twicethetriplets.com/comic/ipaddle/
12:32am 03-17-2019
anon
Throughout my early girlhood years
I got my bottom scorched.
With knickers down, my two bare rears
Both blazing like a torch!

Into my room Mom made me march
Then sat down on my bed
Across her lap, my bottom arched
Oh how she'd make it red!

Although this happened long ago
It's still fresh in my mind
How Mommy's palm brought such a glow
To my little bare behind!
8:23am 03-02-2019
Luciafauve
(The previous story was partly imagined, I only remember stills as from a silent movie. This one I remember every detail)

I went to primary school when I was five, turning six, in 1958. After a few weeks or months, I have homework: a half A5 page of writing my name. I have a bad handwriting. I don’t want to write my name, I want to play. So I hide the fact that I have homework and quickly fill the half page with scribblings. Saturday is payday. I have a bad report card for homework and a half page full of my scribblings and the teachers red corrections, to be signed by a parent. We eat, I have a big knot in my stomach – after the meal, my dad asks for my report card.
My dad is angry – my pet name is Lucy, he calls me Lazy. I want to marry him, being called Lazy is not a minor obstacle to my hopes. I am scolded as I rarely got scolded by him. My dad escaped absolute poverty through a scholarship in the 1920s, my mum, a clever girl but the eldest of eight of a poor family, never had the opportunity to study. School is the gateway to success, lazy children are spoiled children.
My dad signs my report card and the awful homework. My mum let my father do the scolding, she was more the nonverbal type – in love and in anger. She pulls me by the ear over to the couch, and takes her ruler from the cupboard next to it. She wasn’t going to waste words. It is Saturday, and everybody is home. She sits down, takes down my underpants and over her lap I go. My skirt is flipped up, she positions me so that my bare bottom is in just the right place and well exposed and an instant later I feel the ruler smacking down several times. I was already crying from my dad’s scolding, I am now wimpering from misery. The ruler on bare skin hurts, but I guess that mother is careful not to hit too hard. I feel it for a few hours, though, an unpleasant feeling on my sit spots.
My mom sets me back on my feet, pulls up my underpants and walks me to the table of the good room. I have to fill a full A5, 23 lines, with my name, well written, or else: the ruler is still available.
I never bungled my homework again, and always showed it before handing it over. The worst of the three punishments was by very far the scolding from my dad, then the writing of lines. The spanking was third: I was not made of glass. That part of my anatomy could stand a bit of harmless pain.
12:14pm 02-24-2019
lucia fauve
(A somewhat longer story - true as far as I know - by lack of talent for drawing)

When I was a child, spanking and/or corner time were the common punishments. As a young child, we learned that our bottom had to pay for stupidities and disobedience.

In my region and family, in the late 50s and early 1960, almost all parents practiced spanking as a mode of punishment. At preschool age, you got smacked: one or two smacks on your naked thigh and then you were put with your nose in the corner. At primary school age, you got a spanking, a larger series of smacks, sometimes you had to kneel in the corner. My parents tried to avoid punishment: if you explained you truly didn’t understand the consequences of your behaviour and promised never to do it again, the spanking was “postponed”. You got it “doubled” the next time you did it again (whatever that meant).

In my large family and my neighbourhood, all the children were subjected tot he same treatment. No privations, no grounding: only spanking. Once spanked, the case was closed. We were loved children: then it does not matter. The rare children that got never spanked turned often out to be neglected children with bad habits.

Most spankings were administered by mothers, aunts or grandmothers: for all girls and all boys under ten. Dad would only spank if mother was absent or if the boys were older, and then belt or cane appeared. The ill famed martinet, a whip used for children, was still available, but rarely used for real. I think I got smacked by my mother when I was 19, something (she was very angry). I didn’t mind. She was the best mother on planet Earth and neighbouring planets: she had the right to smack me as long as she lived.

The good spanking was on the bare bottom, skirts flipped up and underpants taken down. The spanking was given as soon as possible, in the living room, the kitchen, even the garden. Rarely, the kitchen was closed (and that was bad news! You were in for a few very nasty minutes, then). As kids, we were not shy. God had created only beauty – nudity was normal and accepted till the age of ten. As a girl, your skirt dropped mercifully over your backside, but I do remember my brother in the corner in the kitchen, naked from the waist down. We learned very young that if the punishment was pronounced, she was executed. No son or daughter over four years old in his sane mind would dare to resist. You didn’t want to make it worse.

The first spanking I witnessed was one of my “little” brother (four years older than I – my “big” brother is eight years older), received at the age of 8 something. I do not remember the reason, it had to be serious because he received a “very good” one. She was sitting on the couch, he was laying over her lap under her arm, naked from the waist down, and she was spanking him hard, with repeated loud slaps that rung though the room. He tried to resist, but soon he was wriggling and crying on the rhythm of the spanking. I pitied him and I enjoyed it. As young as I was, I tried not to miss a second – fascinated by his backside turning red under the repeated strokes. I told myself that he was really very, very naughty to be spanked like this. I was happy for him when my mother stopped, but I also regretted it.

Somewhat later, I am very, very naughty. I am alone with her, the other children are at school. I am in pyjamas (I probably was ill the days before) and I am taunting my mother and I don’t stop, ignoring many warnings. Suddenly, she has had enough of me. I don’t remember what she says, I wasn’t listening one single moment. She grabs me, and plants herself in the sofa. I have great fun. If she tries to get my pants down, I get off her knee. If she puts me back over her knee, I pull my pants back up. If she puts me on my belly, I turn over on my back. I have lots of fun. Mother, standing again, shakes me out of my pyjama pants, grabs me by the middle under her arm, sits down again. I am under her arm, over her knee, one leg trapped under hers, my naked bottom now available.
And then Smack! Her hand spanks my bare bottom with a sound like a clap of thunder, and makes my bottom sting. Smack! I am in for the first Good Spanking of my life. Mother is truly very angry, and she has clearly decided that after this spanking, I have learned to respect her for the rest of her live. She was right. Smack! The first buttock was hit again, the heat increased to a painful burn. Mother was a methodical spanker: she alternated left and right, didn’t rush, didn’t slow and made each spank count. All the slaps came down on the two same spots, increasing the sting and burn there.

Seriously, a good spanking like this, skin to skin. is not the end of the world. In my youth, children were used to rough play. My knees seemed to be skinned for life. A Good Spanking was harmless but meant to be painful enough to never forget. Do it good, you soon won’t need it again. And painful it was – I was not squeamish, not at all, but the repeated smacks, on the same unprotected skin, again and again, they got me. It hurt more and more, more than I could take. Soon, I was howling like a little pig, promising to be good, and to listen to her for the rest of my life..

This was my mother, the best mother on planet Earth. I was pretty sure I deserved it, and would never try again to defy my mother. The next time I defied her, I was 14. I got smacked and quickly decided to change my evil ways before I got worse than a smack. And then again at 19. She was a bit upset, but I kissed her and said she was right.
4:04am 02-20-2019
Fulgur
In gallery #217, there is no picture 2840 - it goes from 2839 to 2841.

{HandPrince replies: The artist, after giving permission to include in the Gallery, grew dissatisfied with the image and later asked that it be taken down.}
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