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Owing It All to Olivia &
Her Old-Fashioned Ways!

I wish you luck with your website & hope this letter might find someone with a similar past & future desire to share a long cherished spanking memory. I have always wished to find someone to help me relive my youth, but as I am now a senior citizen, I think that is out of the question. I would, however, love to read of others experiences & offer this letter in that regard.

My introduction to spanking was unusual. It came after my youth, in the first stages of womanhood, & with no preconceived feelings of excitement or pleasure.

It was 1943 & I was 18. My mother had died before my second birthday & I was raised exclusively by my father. He was a carpenter in the small Wisconsin town where I grew up & a wonderful man. He did believe in spanking, but I cannot remember one occasion where one of his rare threats was carried out with a single swat.

My father spoiled me within his limits, & though we could not afford much in the way of material things, he allowed me my way as doting fathers often do. I learned quite early in life how to smile, pout, or whatever it took to wrap him around my little finger.

My father was 33 when Pearl Harbor was attacked. A very patriotic man, he was very outspoken of his desire to enlist. At first, I knew his responsibility to me prevented him from doing so, as did the law that as sole provider he would not be accepted, but as my 18th birthday approached & the war dragged on, I could sense my father's restlessness & uncertainty. I would be 18, but an 18 year-old young woman back then was not what it is today. I had no impending prospects for marriage among the few eligible bachelors not off fighting, & though I had secured a job in a local factory manufacturing military supplies, my father could not & would not hear of me being on my own. I was not anxious to be, nor did I want my father going in harm's way, but I could see how important serving his country was to him. My assurances that I would be one of many single women & safe alone in our home went unheard &, though I tried, I could think of no resolution until one night when I shared my problem with my factory manager.

A very nice man, Mr. Higgins was 4F due to a heart condition & easily understood my father's feelings. He told me that there were many ladies at the factory sharing living quarters due to the influx of workers, & suggested I might find one to share my home & ease father's concern. Father thought this a marvelous idea when I told him, but his overprotective streak caused a problem with candidates until Olivia arrived in our parlor.

Father was overjoyed with her from the moment he saw her. I was unsure. Olivia was 29, a war widow, & though she was rather pretty & had the most beautiful complexion I have ever seen, she struck me as much too proper. Her clothes, manner, & educated speech struck me as far too spinsterish. I was not wild in any sense & had no plans to be, but Olivia seemed too staid; a librarian type to whom a Dickens novel would be a thrilling event.

Out of love for father & his insistence on Olivia, I acquiesced. And so, unwittingly, I accepted a change in my life that I write of today.

Olivia moved in before father enlisted & very quickly set about exerting her influence over father & I. He was delighted with everything. I was not. I had not considered father's loneliness nor his desire for at least a surrogate wife & mother, but in the two weeks before his departure, Olivia filled that role.

In retrospect, Olivia was not cruel, selfish, nor unreasonable. However, her view of my behavior was contrary to mine. I had been allowed my freedom, was spoiled by a doting father, & was simply used to having most things my way. I did my chores on my schedule, spoke my mind, & had taken to dressing in the trend of the day, which then were comfortable, convenient overalls instead of pressed & starched dresses. Olivia's quiet comments concerning these habits & others were absorbed by father like a dry sponge. Even so, I had no inkling of the impending change in my life. I had accepted that I would be subject to the elder woman's guidance during father's absence, but I had no inkling that she would assume a totally dominant, maternalistic role that would include my first taste of old fashioned spanking discipline.

Father had been gone less than a month before I began to rebel against Olivia's increasing dominance. Though her expectations were explained graciously & altogether reasonable, my prior freedom to do as I chose seemed to shrink daily. Although I allowed it at first out of respect for father, I finally could hold my tongue no longer when, one night, Olivia insisted I finish the dinner dishes before listening to a radio show I was anxious to hear. I found Olivia's stubborn attitude over the small incident & her response to my protests disturbing, to say the least, & I told her so-- in a cheeky fettle complete with stamping feet.

It was then that she voiced her belief that I was spoiled, undisciplined & neither too big nor too old to be spanked. I was aghast at her statement, but I was shocked when she turned on her heel, disappeared, & returned with my very own panteen hairbrush in hand. She said nothing as she went to place one of the kitchen chairs in proper position & set herself upon it.

I do believe I entered a state of shock as she repeated her feelings concerning my behavior & told me she was going to do what father could not & spank me then & there or write to father & tell him she would be unable to remain in such a situation. I felt trapped. Olivia was only slightly larger than I-- 5'6" & in the 130 pound range compared to my 5'3" & 102 pounds-- but her intimidating character & my respect for father cowed me enough where I found myself over her knee in what seemed the next instant. I imagine shock, disbelief & fear blurred my will to resist, as did the speedy efficiency with which Olivia prepared me for my first spanking.

I will never forget it for as long as I live--- humiliating heaped upon humiliation as I helplessly felt myself dangling over her knee, felt the hem of my skirt folded up my back, & then felt the final indignity of my panties being peeled down to the hollows of my knees. I had never been spanked in this fashion, & in my ignorance I felt certain that no amount of pain could be worse than the sheer despair I felt at being so displayed. But Olivia quickly corrected me with a promise that I would not again speak back to her or throw tantrums by the time she finished & the first awful contact of my brush against my soft bottom. I had vised my legs together in an effort to shield some small vestige of modesty, but the burning sting of the spank forced my legs apart & up in pained protest. They would not be still again nor would any hope of modesty be remembered until much later.

It was not the worst spanking I received from Olivia, but as traumatic as that first spanking was, I am not surprised that I can recall vivid bits & pieces of it even to this day. Olivia set about educating me with each swat of the brush, showing me that the horrible certainty that the pain of each swat was unsurpassable was false, & that despite my frantic efforts to escape, I & my bottom were helpless to her will. She would land slap after stinging slap in silence, & then pause to scold & question as I sputtered shamelessly, & then she would resume while I kicked my legs wantonly until every ounce of energy was burned & I could only hang helplessly over her lap until dissolving in a flood of tears. Olivia was of strong character, so on that occasion & subsequent spankings, I found too that tears did not dampen her determination to mete out the full measure of her disciplinary decision.

I neither felt nor resembled the independent 18 year-old that I was by the end of that spanking. As Olivia had promised during one of her scolding periods, I felt & acted like a well-spanked little girl. It was shameful, dreadful, & it was impressive. Once finished, Olivia took me onto her lap & hugged me as I cried out my shame & pain. With my face buried in her shoulder & her soothing words of comfort whispered into my ear, I found myself apologizing for my actions & promising never to behave so badly again. The import of my reaction did not strike me at the time, but later that night, safe in my bed, it occurred to me that I responded to Olivia as the mother I'd never known & felt warm & safe in her arms while my bottom throbbed & tears flowed. It seemed strange. When my tears had dried, Olivia patted my bottom gently & instructed me to the bathroom to tidy up & then to the kitchen to do the dishes. Her warning that I have them washed, dried, & set away within the hour or I would be back over her knee was sufficient to send me scurrying & be finished with a quarter hour to spare.

Later, my bottom cooled but my face burning with embarrassment, Olivia called me into the parlor & calmly set down the rules I would be expected to follow from that night on. None were harsh, though I realized my spirit of adulthood would be set aside under the watchful eye of Olivia, at least until my father returned. It was her opinion that until my marriage or twenty-first year, I would & should be subjected to parental control as she had been & that extended to hairbrush spankings from her whenever she saw fit. She told me that night that father had hinted of marriage & she was pleased with the prospect, & that they had discussed her feelings on my behavior before he left & in letters since. She said she would write him of the spanking, & confidently predicted he would approve.

I believed everything she said that night, & soon discovered that I was correct when my temper again overcame me & I overreacted to one of Olivia's criticisms of my attire. Within a hairsbreadth of my outburst, I knew that I had made a grievous mistake when Olivia's eyes narrowed dangerously before she once again disappeared to fetch my hairbrush. The spanking that followed was as horrible as the first, perhaps moreso, because after the consoling hug, Olivia insisted on leading me to the corner by my ear so I could reflect on the evils of a hot temper & bottom to match.

Father was away for 2 years, & though we were fortunate that his age prevented him from serving in a combat capacity, I, his daughter, was not so safe. While he spent the time serving in a transport facility in England, I spent the time learning that my stepmother to be was a stern disciplinarian & a wonderful woman. With Olivia's help, I began dating occasionally & overcame my tendency to be lazy & disorganized. I also learned to appreciate my femininity more than ever & to enjoy it. We became great friends by father's return, & though I never thought of Olivia as my mother, I did come to treasure her as a trusted sister, one that was there for me whenever I needed her. I never did look forward to the side of Olivia that looked after my disciplinary needs, but I did come to know that I benefited from the spankings she gave me until father's return & after.

He & Olivia were married exactly one year after his return. I married one year after their wedding day. During that time, Olivia found it necessary to ask father to excuse us on more than one occasion & he had no difficulty hearing what was going on though I was taken to my bedroom for spankings after his return. Olivia's methods & thoroughness did not change a whit from the first to the last spanking I received over her knee & I could not keep quiet either. He seemed embarrassed after the first spanking as was I, but as was her custom, Olivia brought the subject out in the open & that was that. He was not embarrassed again, though I always was, & spanking became a fact of life in our house until, as Olivia had promised, I married.

I was not spanked after I married, & it was not until some years later that I realized I wanted to be. Reminiscences of my sessions over Olivia's knee, once fearful, gradually became very pleasurable indeed. My husband was a wonderful man, but like my father tended to be more docile than dominant, & I realize the thought of someone like Olivia taking charge of me physically & emotionally became more & more attractive with the passing years. I often found myself fantasizing situations where I would maneuver Olivia into deciding that I was not too old for another spanking, but I made no attempt to realize them.

It has been many years since my father & Olivia passed on, & while advancing age diminished the possibility of reliving a session over that stout woman's knee, I never relinquished my desire or fond memories. I have few regrets with my life, but I do find myself wondering what Olivia would have said or done if I had gone to her years ago & admitted that I felt one of her spankings was exactly what I needed. I'll never know what her reaction would have been, but I do like to believe that she would have accommodated me.

At my age, I realize that fulfilling my desire to relive Olivia's treatment has passed, & I am at peace about it. But I do find myself wishing that the internet existed years ago so I might have attempted to find an Olivia who could correct & soothe me when I needed it. I think anyone who harbors feelings like mine should try & realize them if they can before it's too late. Life is indeed short & should be enjoyed to the fullest. -- Sincerely Yours, Mrs. B., Milwaukee, WI