I was, indeed, spanked growing up. My parents were divorced or separated for most of my childhood, and I moved often, going back and forth between parents, in California (and Oregon for a brief time). My brother and I lived with my mother most often, during the schoolyear, but spent every summer with my father on a ranch. I know that I was spanked more by my mother, but honestly cannot remember a single incident. I don't think I ever went "over her knee", and don't believe there was ever structure to her spanking (no cornertime, no "sent to my room", no "wait until we get home..."); I believe she was a grab-your-arm-and-throw-a-few-swats-at-your-bottom spanker. I only halfway remember being spanked like this because I recall being embarrassed at having been swatted in someone else's house during a visit. My brother was the troublemaker, and was spanked much more often than I, especially by our mother.
Spankings from my father were a different matter. I only recall being spanked by him a few times--maybe 6 or 7 in total; but I actually remember 2 spankings, and one almost-spanking. With my father, we were sent to our rooms (living with my mother, my brother & I shared a room; but we each had our own room on my father's ranch). We were rarely sent to our rooms, so if it happened, we were pretty muchly guaranteed to get a spanking. After a horrendous, dreadful wait he would enter with a large, thick leather belt (which I still have). As I recall, we were spanked on whatever we happened to be wearing at the time--of the two I remember, one was on the bare, and the other was on tighty-whities. I don't have any idea how many times the belt came down, nor how long it took, just that I was always sobbing almost immediately (if I wasn't crying before the spanking even started).
I was terrified of being spanked then, but I was never afraid of my parents. Not once did I think either of them didn't love me, nor feel abused. I was a good kid, but was spanked when my behavior was not. It was that simple. Our spankings were only on our bottoms--although I do remember my mother slapping a face or two on rare occasions--and never with anything other than a hand or that belt. Our mother only once threatened to spank my brother with what she reported to having received as a child: a red leather cord, maybe a quarter-inch thick, that was still hanging in her closet in my grandparents' house...
...which has always made this picture by Sassy Bottoms one of my favorites
Although the irony of it was incomprehensible to me as a youth, I not only found spanking terror-inducing, but also confusingly erotic. As my age progressed, my terror began to supersede my sexual affinity for spanking less and less--I still had no desire to be spanked, but found it more and more arousing. The very last parental spanking I received was from my father, in the previously described manner; but, although I did cry, the majority of the discomfort I felt was from my disjointed erection that was tormentingly crooked, pressing against the inside of my underwear, that I didn't dare to reach down and rearrange for fear that its presence would be known.
I was only once spanked by someone that was not a relative. While traveling through California (which we did often with my mother), we would often stop and visit the family of one of my mother's childhood friends. We referred to her as "Aunt Susan", but did not call her husband "uncle". They had two children who were of comparable ages to my brother and I, but his counterpart was a beautiful girl (who I had something of a crush on). I don't remember details (apparently being spanked as a child was such an intense experience for me that I was actually unaware of my surroundings), but I believe that all four of us kids were spanked--the older ones first, then we younger ones, with a belt, standing up, over our clothes. It was not nearly as painful as being spanked by my father, but a few tears were shed. I wish I could remember having watched the older girl's being spanked, but even if I had seen it, I think I wouldn't remember it.
In fact, I have never witnessed, first hand, a girl's getting a spanking. The closest was standing outside the doorway to an apartment, the young girl who lived there was arguing with the girl next to me when her mother appeared behind her and applied a sharp, loud swat to her bottom. The girl let out a noise in surprise, then opened into a loud, open-mouthed wail, akin to the onset of a siren, as the door closed.
That is the extent of my childhood spanking experiences. I sometimes wonder, though; would things have been different for me if I had a sister.......?