Growing up in the 1960s, spanking was not uncommon and my mother was of the opinion that a good spanking – or ultimately six of the best – wouldn’t do me any harm.
It was not until I was in my early teens when spanking was deemed no longer appropriate and the rod was thought more suitable. My Mother had somehow purchased a traditional style school cane, about 3ft long, with a crook handle and very whippy.
This was always kept in the cloaks cupboard, where it was a continuous reminder – not that I needed reminding, as my mother was always willing to remind it was there.
My first experience of the cane happened one Saturday morning. We were going shopping with my mother’s friend and her daughter. They arrived, and I was told to get ready.
As it was raining, my mother instructed me in front of her friend and daughter to put my nylon mac on, as it looked like rain. I hated wearing that mac and at that age, I thought I should be able to choose my clothes, it was made worse by the daughter smirking that I had to wear a mac and she didn’t.
I refused and put up a big fuss, my mother threatened me with the cane (which made me more embarrassed) and for some unknown reason, I refused even more.
That was it – Mother lost her temper completely. She went to the cloaks cupboard and returned with both the cane and the nylon mac. I was ordered to the front room, were I was told to remove my pants and underpants and slip the nylon mac on and await my punishment. I went knowing the caning was now inevitable, but as I went I noticed the smiles of what seemed pleasure from by the daughter and my mother’s friend at my fate.
When Mother entered the room, carrying the cane, I can remember a feeling of excitement and fear as I was ordered to bend over the chair. As my nylon mac was very thin, my mother applied the cane over the mac, thus saving me the embarrassment of baring my backside.
The caning I received was the first of many and applying the cane over the nylon mac was an approach that Mother thought appropriate. When a caning was due, I was often told to go to the front room remove my pants and slip my nylon mac on ready.
I hated wearing a nylon mac, but my mother’s preference for caning me whilst wearing something I hated ensured that not only was I caned right through my school years, but I also had a nylon mac.
Funnily enough, I now willingly wear the exact same type of mac that I hated so much then!