I was at primary school in the 1950s in the north-east of England, where spankings at home and at school were commonplace.
My first bare bottom spanking occurred when my name was called out at assembly by the headmistress to report to her office. When I arrived, I saw the school crossing warden (commonly known as a lollipop lady or man in the UK) sitting across the desk from the headmistress, and I realised I had not crossed the road at the designated place.
I realised I had no option but to confess, at which point the lollipop lady said that if I were her son, I would be across her knee as soon as she got me home.
The headmistress said she agreed that a spanking was necessary and came round from behind her desk. She sat down in a visitors’ chair and began to unbutton my trousers. Once they were at my ankles, she took hold of my arm and pulled me over her knee.
The headmistress then rolled up my shirt, put her arm around my waist and pulled the back of my underpants down below my bottom, while leaving the front in place. She then spanked me soundly until my bottom was red hot.
After letting me up to pull up my shorts, the headmistress said she was writing a note for me to take home to my mother, which she should sign and return to school.
I handed it to my mother when I arrived home around 4.30pm. She gave me a suspicious look as she opened the note, and I watched her face go pale as she read the contents.
Mother was furious. In her opinion, teachers, vicars and policemen were a class above us and must be obeyed at all times. Not only had I broken school regulations but the headmistress had given me a bare bottom spanking while she, my own mother, had tried to discipline me without resorting to corporal punishment. However, that situation was about to change, she informed me.
I was pulled from my chair and taken into the dining room. We stopped along the way to collect one of my father’s slippers, which were on a shelf underneath the stairs.
Mother pulled a straight backed, armless wooden dining chair out from under the table into the middle of the room. I was told to stand in front of her, then she undid my trousers and pulled them down to the floor, swiftly followed by my underpants.
Mother told me to turn around and I felt her fingers move across my bare bottom as she inspected the marks left by the headmistress’s punishment.
“Well,” she said finally, “you may have been spanked this morning but the result is hardly visible – but I can change that!”
Mother picked up the slipper, which had been resting on her lap and told me: “Get over my knee, get your head down and your bottom up in the middle of my lap – you should be used to this position by now!”
I did as I was told and Mother placed her left arm around my waist. I felt the cold sole of the slipper against my bottom, then I felt the slipper move and suddenly heard a ‘whoosh’ as it came down and smacked against the middle of my bottom.
“Aargh!” I cried, as the impact fired up my already heated bottom. My mother took no heed of my cries as she built a pattern on my bottom, first one side, then the next, top to bottom and repeat.
The spanking went on and on. Tears started to flow but I couldn’t escape. I didn’t know how I was going to bear the next whack other than cry out and beg for her to stop. Eventually, the spanking stopped and I just lay there over her knee, exhausted from wriggling and crying.
Through my tears, I heard my Mother telling me that she hoped I had learned a lesson and would never run across the road unsupervised again. She helped me off her lap, gave me a hug and sent me to read a book in my bedroom until dinner was ready.