Waiting for it

As someone who, even now, is extremely aroused by being spanked myself, and indeed thinking or talking about anything to do with spanking, I have given a great deal of thought as to how common this reaction is.

One thing is for sure – as human beings, we don’t have some sort of switch inside us which only flips over and allows us to become sexually aroused when we hit 18 – and there is such intimacy in giving and receiving a sore bottom (particular when one’s pants are taken down for it) that it is no wonder it affects some children in a particular way.

One of my most vivid memories was when I was 14 and at a mixed sex grammar school in the north of England. I was one of the more strong-spirited girls who was frequently getting into trouble and I was certainly no stranger to corporal punishment, both at school and back at home.

Corporal punishment was always administered at the end of the school day and there would usually be a small crowd of unhappy-looking boys and girls lined up outside the deputy head’s office (he was the person responsible for all CP, never the headmaster, I’m not sure why).

At this particular school, girls got the strap across the palm of their hands, while boys were caned on their bottoms – pants down, or so the rumour went. Although I was never able to fully authenticate that aspect of the discipline, one incident which stays in my mind would suggest it was true, and speaks to the point I’m making.

I can’t now even remember why I was sent for the strap on that particular day, but I was enough of a veteran to know the routine by then. Your name was called and you went in. The first thing you saw was the strap on the deputy head’s desk, and if boys were being done as well, the cane would be there too. The strap was like the Scottish belt or tawse, with a split tail at the ‘business end’.

The deputy head would then spend a few moments exploring your misbehaviour and admonishing you but he never wasted much time on that particular part of the punishment. All too soon, he would pick up the tawse and you would be instructed to hold out your hand – generally the left, as you were belted on the one you didn’t write with, for pretty obvious reasons.

The deputy head would put his hand around your extended wrist to keep it in place and you would then receive up to six hot, stinging smacks across your palm with the leather.

Obviously, it was an unpleasant experience for most kids but it wasn’t too bad (I only ever saw one girl come out of the office openly crying) and nothing like what many of us were used to getting at home from our fathers.

What was undeniable in my case, however, was that I found the experience strangely arousing. Looking back, I put it down to various factors. There was the humiliation of being seen in a line-up ready to be whacked with all the other naughty kids, the anticipation of waiting your turn, the submissive gesture of holding out your hand and a certain degree of masochism, too, in enduring the pain of the smacks.

Thinking about it in those terms, it’s really no wonder that an adolescent boy or girl with raging hormones (and at least some tendency towards the traits I describe above) would become aroused in the same situation.

I knew at least one boy who felt the same as me. One day, we were both waiting to be whacked, me for the belt and him for the cane, and I asked him whether he was scared. He looked at me and said: “No, but my knob is hard.” I blushed a bit, although the rather ‘fast’ set of girls with which I ran knew all about boys’ penises – many of us regularly wanked our boyfriends, and a few really daring ones would suck them off.

But the fact was, I certainly knew how this boy felt, especially if when he went into that office the deputy head was going to make him take down his trousers and pants, and show his bare bottom and privates before having the former soundly beaten.

As for the feeling you got after corporal punishment had been administered, particularly to your bum, I knew all about that too. I was well acquainted with my dad’s slipper, across his knee with my knickers down, and knew how nice and tingly it could leave my backside feeling, and how wet my vagina would become as the warmth spread forwards from my buttocks to my genitals.

Contributor: Gillian