I was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to read the paper, while my two
little sisters, nine and eleven, sat across from me. They were arguing about who
was cuter and more talented, Aaron Carter or Justin Timberlake. I couldn’t
concentrate at all, because their bickering was driving me nuts. They were going
at it pretty good and all I could think was, it’s a shame mom’s at the store
‘cause she’d have both their butts by now. Finally, I just couldn’t take it
anymore and I slammed my fists down hard on the table yelling, “Oh, for Christ’s
sake, will you two stupid idiots just shut the fuck up!” Barely a second later
my mom’s voice came bellowing out of the laundry room. “Jordan Taylor Hanson!” I
was a dead man. When had she come home, and why hadn’t she yelled at them that
whole time if she could hear so easily, I wondered? My heart started pounding
like crazy.

My mother came out of the room and strode angrily over to me. She glared right
in my face, pointed to my sisters and said, “Apologize this instant, young man,
then you are going to have your bottom spanked but good and your mouth washed
out as well; that was a disgusting display.” I was stunned. “It’s not fair,” I
whined. “How come they’re not in trouble? If it had been me fighting like that,
I would have gotten spanked for that too.” I fully realized I sounded like a
bratty, little six-year-old and not the mature man of sixteen I liked to imagine
myself to be, but I couldn’t seem to help it. My mother shook her head at me.
“You know very well that your father and I let you all off the hook plenty when
it comes to that. We believe you children have to learn to work it out between
yourselves sometimes. You would only have gotten spanked if it had gotten out of
hand. Jessica and Avery were doing just fine until you opened your mouth and let
that nasty filth out. Now stand up and apologize, then take your pants down!”

I was nearly in tears, it seemed so unfair. The trouble was I also knew she was
right. In fact, I’d been happily surprised more than once when we hadn’t gotten
our bottoms’ warmed for fighting. We all knew there was an unspoken line and as
long as we didn’t cross it we were safe. Avie and Jess hadn’t even come near it
really. I think I’d actually been more pissed about the subject matter.

I literally couldn’t make my mouth form the required words because I was too
embarrassed. I hung my head trying to figure out how I was going to get out of
this. I knew the clock was ticking though, and my mom would only tolerate a
short delay before I’d be in even deeper trouble; however, this only served to make me
more tongue tied. When she ran out of patience, she grabbed my arm, spun me
around, and gave me a hard smack on the butt. “Now!” she ordered, “unless you
want me to get your father in here too!” Oh lord, this was going from bad to
worse in no time flat. My mind flashed to the last spanking I’d gotten, which,
sadly, was only a couple months before and for exactly the same offense. My
father had assured me, in no uncertain terms, that if I ever used that sort of
language again I was going to be “very sorry.” Needless to say, I didn’t want my
mother to call him in here right now. “I’m sorry,” I muttered under my breath,
barely civil. “Try again!” Mom ordered. My whole body cringed at her angry
command. “I’m sorry,” I spat out. Bad choice. Mom bristled, gave me a searing
look, then turned around and went to the counter for the kitchen paddle. I
froze. I had really done it now, as if a hand spanking wouldn’t have been bad
enough, now I was gonna get the paddle. Oh man. “Please Mom,” I back peddled.
“I’m sorry, I really am. Please don’t paddle me. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.
Really, I am.” “Too late,” she stated emphatically. “Just be glad I’m not
calling your father in here as I think we all remember what he told you would
happen if you used language like that again! Now, take those pants down
immediately.”

I was out of choices and I knew it. I wanted to stamp my foot and shout NO! just
like my two year old sister Zoë would have done, but I sure didn’t want my dad
in here, so I fought the urge and did as I was told. Oh man, this just sucked so
badly. I couldn’t bear to look at my sisters either. I knew they were probably
gloating. I sure would have been. I lowered my pants to my knees, then Mom told
me to bend over the table and, when she had me where she wanted me, she pulled
my underwear down in back. “I would have thought that last spanking your father
gave you would have taught you something, young man, but apparently not. Maybe
this’ll do the trick,” she stated firmly, then she smacked my bottom really hard
with the paddle. I gasped and tightened every muscle in my body, trying with all
my might not to make a spectacle of myself; I didn’t want to give my sisters the
satisfaction. It hurt so bad though, it was like a fiery explosion and
it sent lightning strikes of hot pain up and down my spine. I knew I wouldn’t be
able to last. I was already moaning and squirming after only half a dozen
stinging blows, and by ten I was in tears and begging her to stop. She didn’t
though, she kept on spanking me until I was sobbing.

A dozen more spanks or so and the kitchen door suddenly opened. There stood my
two brothers — and my dad! Oh no! I screamed silently, burying my face deeper in
my hands and pressing myself hard to the table, as if it could somehow offer me
protection. Mom barely even hesitated; she kept up her steady stream of
blistering swats while she explained to them what I had done to deserve this
spanking. I couldn’t believe what happened then. I could see my dad from between
my fingers and, even as Mom was still walloping me, he walked over, pulled out a
chair and sat down right next to us. When Mom finally decided she’d made me
sorry enough for her satisfaction, Dad simply said, “My turn,” then grabbed me
and put me right across his knees. Suddenly, I found myself face down staring at
the floor and now it was my dad, not my mom, who was lecturing me. I could
barely make out his words, ‘cause my blood was pounding so loudly in my ears. “I
don’t think I need to remind you of what I told you would happen the last time I
spanked you for using language like that, do I?” he asked, emphasizing his point
with a scorching spank to my already flaming backside. I couldn’t speak, and I
could hardly swallow. “Do I?” he demanded again with another sharp swat, his
voice rising ominously. “Nnnnooo sirrr,” I managed to whimper, then he started
whaling on me. He didn’t need a paddle, his hand was plenty hard enough. It hurt
so bad I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t do anything but sob and
plead and apologize over and over. “Please Daddy, please stop,” I begged. “I’m
sorry, I really am. I won’t do it again. I promise. Please. Ooohhh. It hurts.
Please. It hurts so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I really am. Daddy! Pleeeease.
Stop!” It was a pitiful performance, one of my all-time top ten I’m quite sure,
and I was totally disgusted with myself, both for having been stupid enough to
have gotten myself into this pathetic predicament once again, and also for
having so little personal control that I was reduced to squalling like a baby.
There was nothing to be done about it though, I had no fight left, and I just
continued to wail and kick while he kept a fire going on my bottom that I knew
would take ages to simmer down. It was awful.

When he was finally done spanking me he simply said, “I imagine your mother has
some other things in store for you, young man,” then he pulled my underwear up
and hauled me to my feet. I kept my eyes glued to the floor as I grabbed for my
pants, trying futilely to make myself look more dignified. I knew what he meant;
Mom was gonna wash my mouth out. It’s truly one of the most medieval of tortures
and I hate it with a passion. It’s humiliating and nauseating and my stomach
knotted at the thought. Barely a second later, Mom took me by the arm and
dragged me over to the sink where I stood sniffling and trembling as she
prepared a wash cloth. She soaked it, then squirted soap onto it, and finally
squished it all around until it was a sudsy slop; the whole idea was so
revolting to me that I thought I might throw up. She ordered me to open my mouth
and then stuck that slimy piece of cloth inside. I gagged and pulled away,
earning me an angry smack on my butt. Then she grabbed me hard and proceeded to
shove that thing deep in my mouth again, swirling it around and around. I wanted
to scream I felt so demoralized. When she finally let me rinse I was coughing
and gasping and close to retching. Without so much as a pause, she then turned
me around and put me in the corner, ordering me to stay there until I’d had
enough time to be sure I’d learned my lesson. Oh man, I was completely beside
myself. It took me a long time to calm down enough to even think clearly, let
alone focus on the lesson I was supposed to learn, especially since practically
the whole damn family was still in the room and I could feel their eyes drilling
holes in my back.

When I could finally form a coherent thought my mind immediately went back to
the previous incident, the one I’d been reminded of so many times in the last
horrible stretch of time. It had happened about two months ago when Dad had
announced that that particular evening was going to be a “family night.” Once a
month or so we would all get together after dinner and do some organized event
as a whole group - play a game, watch a movie, or something. Although I usually
liked those occasions, that was the very last thing I wanted right then. I was
in a lousy mood that day and fed up with half of my sibs over various little
irritations, so I certainly didn’t want to be forced to spend the entire evening
sitting there pretending to have fun with them. I had better things to do. It
wasn’t open for discussion but, of course, stupid me, I had to push it,
succeeding only in making my dad rather irked with me.

A movie was picked and corn popped. Ike and I were sitting on the floor while
Zac, Jess and Avery lounged on the couch right behind us. Mom and Dad were on
the other couch, each with a kid on their lap. I, in my infinite righteousness,
was sulking and making sure everyone knew just how unfair I thought it all to
be. I was trying to work on a song, very pointedly NOT even deigning to watch
the movie; they could force me to be there, but they couldn’t make me join in.
Man, I could just kick myself right now for behaving like such a selfish,
spoiled brat.

Zac, Jess and Avie were roughhousing and suddenly I was jolted by a wayward kick
and showered with oily popcorn. In a rage I spun around fast, slammed Zac hard
on the side of his leg with my fist, and spat, “You stupid asshole. What the
hell’s the matter with you? Are you some kind of fucking idiot?” Dead silence.
Zac’s eyes were huge.

“Jordan Taylor Hanson!” my father roared. Oh my god, what had I done? I spun
back around to face him, my whole body buzzing with adrenaline. I was trying
desperately to swallow but my throat was way too tight. “You will go get the
hairbrush right now!” he ordered. “Dad, he …, I …, please …,” I stuttered.
“NOW!” he demanded, pointing at the hall to their bedroom. I thought my heart was gonna explode out of my chest it was beating so hard. Slowly I rose, carefully catching the loose popcorn and putting it on the table. I was feeling like the biggest jerk ever, and I had called Zac the idiot! Sheesh. I’d hit him too. I couldn’t believe it. Right in front of everyone. What could possibly have possessed me to be so stupid? This was going to be really bad. Walking away I could sense them all looking at my soon to be bare, upturned, and very sore and red backside. My skin crawled; it was humiliating beyond words. I kept thinking about how I’d been
spanked for almost exactly the same thing — swearing nastily at Zac — about six
months before at the recording studio. This was such a ridiculous pattern with me.

I retrieved the hairbrush and returned, shamefaced, to face my sentence. I’m not
sure I was even breathing at that point. Dad ordered me to his side where he
made short shrift of getting my pants down, putting me over his knee and baring
my backside. Then he spanked me long and hard. I held out stoically for the
first ten or so swats, but it hurt like hell, just like it was meant to. Soon
enough I was doing my special song and dance, kicking and struggling against the
burning smacks, all the while begging and crying and apologizing all over
myself. It was all so sad and predictable. He lectured me furiously the whole
time too, telling me he was sick to death of my foul mouth and my nasty
attitude. Who was I to act like that? Did I think I was so special that I could
just say and do whatever I pleased? Well, he was going to teach me otherwise if
it was the last thing he did; I was going to learn once and for all not to use
language like that or to treat people so badly. He promised me that I would be
very sorry if I ever said anything like that to anyone ever again, and so on and
so on, until I was beyond miserable.

When the god awful spanking was finally over and I had been allowed to stand up
and re-dress, I was ordered to apologize to Zac, then was taken to the bathroom
by my father for a thorough mouth washing. Oh god, I hate that so bad. Once cleaned to his satisfaction, I was put in the corner in full sight of everyone, where I spent the rest of the
evening brooding over my stupidity. Would I ever stop doing this? Would I ever
learn? *sigh* Apparently not, as there I was, standing in the corner with a red
and burning bottom, suffering the consequences of having done the very same
thing once again, this time to my sisters. Christ almighty, what is my problem?

When Mom finally let me out of the kitchen corner it was to stand in front of
the whole family, now gathered for dinner, and apologize to my sisters. Knowing
what was expected, I had been rehearsing something I hoped would suffice, but,
oh man, trying to get it out of my mouth was like wrangling a tiger; I nearly
choked on the words and it was all I could do not to burst into tears. I felt so
ashamed. “Um, Jess, Avie,” I stammered, “I’m … um … really sorry for what I
said. It was wrong and I know it, and I deserved everything I got, I know that
too. I never should have said any of that, especially since I’ve gotten spanked
two other times pretty recently for doing the very same thing. I don’t know
what’s wrong with me, why I can’t seem to learn this lesson. I hope I won’t ever
have to get spanked for this again, but somehow I doubt it; I just can’t seem to
control my mouth. I didn’t mean it. I hope you’ll forgive me. It was a really
bad thing to do and I feel really sick about it.” I winced then, feeling so
undeserving of their forgiveness that it seemed almost wrong to even ask for it.
They both gave me these pitiful looks that made my heart wrench. What a jerk I
was. They nodded their acceptance of my apology though, and that was that. I was
told to sit down to dinner. Of course, I really wanted to run out of there so
badly I could barely stand it, but I knew I wasn’t going to be given that sort
of break; I was going to have to sit there in my shame and embarrassment and
deal with the repercussions of my behavior. My folks feel there’s always another
lesson to be had. Wonder if I will ever learn?