I was raised during a time when spanking was the main form of discipline for children. Although my parents also employed alternate methods of discipline like going to bed without supper, going to the room and sit without doing anything, withholding play or going outside and the ultimate -NO TV! they still continued to spank us well into our early teens. My parents believed in discipline fitting the "crime" so to speak. So a spanking was the worst punishment we could receive for doing the worst deed-lying. Not only were we spanked for lying, but the punishment was compounded with some sort of restriction, depending on our age.
Both parents spanked. My mother, when I was two years old, spanked me with a brush, which bruised my fanny. She was mortified by this and discontinued using an instrument on me and only used her hand. Though it took some time, she was able to persuade my father to spank me with his hand as well. Unfortunately, my brothers didn't bruise as easily as I did, so their spanking was with a belt or brush.
My mother was a short slight woman, weighing 90 pounds at the best of times. I suspect that is why she felt the need to use a brush. My father was a fit service man, the belt was more a symbol. I learned early that taking my lumps without whimpering would make the punishment short. Daddy's spanking always hurt. Ma's not so much.
My brothers were a different story. It didn't matter who was spanking them, they would scream, yell, cover their butts. Oh, it was horrible. I would go in my room, shut the door and scream in my brain, "STOOOOP!" I hated it more when they were spanked than when I was.
My brother at 14 had grown into muscular strapping lad like his father. Daddy was overseas, in Viet Nam. My mother had decided to spank my brother for lying. As she spanked him, she noticed he was not screaming and yelling as typical of his behaviour. She did notice that his shoulders were heaving, so after a few swaks she decided enough, he was sufficiently punished. When she stopped she told him to turn around and he wouldn't. Thinking he was ashamed she began to comfort him. She became concerned because he couldn't talk and his shoulders were heaving still. She finally got him to turn around and as she did, she saw that he was laughing so hard he could not stop.
My mother looked at my brother and started laughing too, she said, "You didn't even feel that did you?" Still laughing my brother shook his head no. That was his last spanking.