You spank the child. One spank was what you told yourself as you strode outside, down the driveway and towards the boy. One spank is all he will need, as you rolled up your flannel shirt sleeves.
You spank the boy. You don't feel that the first spank has connected properly. You spank again, this time harder so that there will be no doubt the swat will connect.c
That was far too hard. Frustrated with yourself and your spanking technique, you begin to rain more spanks upon the reddening buttocks, trying to produce that one sweet spank you know you are capable of. The one spank that conveys a stern conviction that the boy must stop screaming at once, but also that Jesus loves him very much indeed.
Unable to perfect this spank after 7 tiring minutes, you realise that the spanking has become a thrashing and that the boy's skinned knee has bled all over your beige slacks.