Although we did have the cane at my sweet little primary school in Wembley, London, in the 1960s, I managed to avoid it. However, at my senior school I was regularly caned and slippered as we all were, going into the 1970s.
I was not spanked at home. However I did have an an ‘aunt’ who sometimes put me across her knee in play or mock seriousness – but this was more of a game, and I would often even encourage it!
This all changed when I was 13. Aunt Pam was a Christian fundamentalist, and in my teens I’d sometimes stay weekends or for a time in school holidays at her lovely house in Amersham, and she became a kind of tutor to me too.
I was actually Jewish, so Pam was not a blood aunt, but an ‘auntie’ – a friend of the family. When I turned 13 – the age of confirmation and ‘manhood’ in both Judaism and Christianity – her attitude towards me became a little less playful and rather more stern.
I had kind of picked up that she used to cane her son Rory across his bare bottom until he was 18 and left home for university – it was sort of hinted at in the family and used as a vague threat, but whilst I was intrigued, I didn’t relate it to myself in any way, or her connection to me. Indeed, I never really knew Rory, who was a good 10 years or so older than I. Pam also had a daughter, Jane, but there never seemed to be any talk of her being corporally punished. Even back then spanking, it seems, was mainly for boys.
I did find the atmosphere of spanking that was around in every facet of cultural life quite exciting; forbidden, terrifying, and yet intriguing. At my primary school I was once sent to the headmaster for playfully spanking a girl’s bottom – but instead of getting the cane (which is what usually happened if you were sent to the head) he just scooped me up in one movement, slapped my behind three times and told me to never to do that again. I was otherwise a model pupil, so I guess I’d earned some credit points.
However, before my turn in his study was a girl called Anne, on whom I had something of a crush. We had a ‘stars and stripes’ system of discipline at the school – stars for good behaviour, stripes for bad. Anne had accumulated three stripes. This usually meant the cane for boys or an over-the-knee traditional spanking for girls. Rumour had it that girls would have their skirts raised and be smacked on the seat of their knickers, though no girl I knew would admit to this being the case.
Sometimes, a whole class could get a ‘double stripe’ for rowdiness. Then, if you just got a single stripe on top of that, you were for it. A bit unfair, but this was Anne’s situation. I had also accumulated three stripes this way myself a couple of times, but for some reason escaped with just a telling-off.
Anne, however, got spanked on this occasion – I could hear her being punished as I awaited my own fate. This experience aroused in me a fascination for the possibility that a pretty, innocent girl could get spanked by an unreasonable authority figure – not only that, but across her knickers.
Seeing a girl’s pants was unheard of in everyday life, so for it to be sanctioned, legally, was almost akin to waiting for execution where you were not only punished, but legally invaded and destroyed, like in an act of war. It was both somehow thrilling and terrifying. The adults who mostly protected you could also punish you. This kindled in me my first great ‘love’ in the murky world of shadows – the desire to see a pretty girl spanked.
My second great desire in this weird and shadowy dimension was to be spanked myself by a stern, no-nonsense older female. This was kindled in me by Aunt Pam, with the help of her friend Doreen, who lived with her.
When I turned 13, Aunt Pam sat me down one day, apropos of nothing, and said she was going to introduce me to her ‘little helpers’. Then she produced a genuine crook-handle school cane, a large black tennis shoe and a wooden cheeseboard with a long handle! These, she told me, were going to help instil into me some discipline when required, now that I was a teenager.
I remember actually grinning and not really taking her seriously, and yet feeling quite excited, with a combination of disbelief and adrenalised elation! I asked her if it was true that she’d caned her Rory across his bare bottom, but she just told me that it was none of my business – what was my business right now was my own behaviour.
I countered by saying that I was too old to be spanked, and asked what would happen if I simply refused to submit to the punishment, as she wasn’t my parent nor my teacher. This was actually very untypical and rather daring of me – but Aunt Pam simply said that I was most certainly not too old to be spanked. “Boys are at their naughtiest in their teens – they need more spanking rather than less as they get older!” she said.
I think I blushed at this point, then she added: “As for resisting, I can always get Doreen to help me.” At this point, a wicked smile came to her lips and Aunt Pam said: “You know what? I think you’ve earned a demonstration right this minute of how things are going to be from now on!”
I protested laughingly at this – after all, I’d done nothing wrong. But Aunt Pam’s face remained serious. “That’s not for you to judge, Asher. I will decide when you need discipline. For one thing, your school reports clearly show that you need to buck your ideas up.
“I’m going to give you a taster of each of my little helpers – three with the cane, three with the slipper and three with the board.” “You can’t make me!” I protested, but with that she called Doreen into the room.
“This very naughty little boy needs his bottom spanked hard and he’s refusing to obey me – can you help me with him, please?” I’m sure Aunt Pam deliberately used humiliating, babyish language. This angered me and I became quite sullen and sulky.
Doreen seemed only too delighted to assist. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. “We’ll let’s see how co-operative he becomes,” Aunt Pam replied, “we’ll start with the cane.”
I held out my hand, albeit with a dollop of attitude, but Aunt Pam said: ““You silly boy! I’m not going to cane your hands – there’s far too much risk of injury, especially as you play the piano. There’s only one place God has decreed that naughty boys should be punished, and that’s on the bottom.”
She took hold of my chin and looked me in the eye. “You’ve got the face of an angel and hands that are a gift from God. Now let’s see if you’ve got a nice little bottom that the Lord made for spanking, shall we? Take your trousers down!”
This was a further bombshell – I’d never been told to take my trousers down for any punishment before. I just stood there transfixed, my heart in my mouth. I was definitely having a huge adrenalised reaction, and I froze like an animal caught in headlights.
The next thing I knew, Aunt Pam was holding my arms firmly so I couldn’t move, and Doreen was unzipping my jeans. Then I was pulled across Pam’s knee in a daze.
Then I heard her trot out this little ditty. “Spank a boy and do it right, trousers down, pants up tight. And if he smiles when he should frown, then spank him with his pants right down.” With that, Aunt Pam pulled my jeans down, exposing my underpants. My face was now near to the floor and I remember clearly the smell of the carpet, mixed with tobacco smoke as Doreen lit up a cigarette.
Aunt Pam then kind of cooed. “Oh my, what a bottom!” Then I felt my pants being yanked up tight – not quite a ‘wedgie’ but very tight between my bottom cheeks, accentuating my buttocks, which Pam was rubbing, kneading and pinching.
“Why haven’t you taken his pants down?” Doreen asked with interest. “Oh my dear, that’s far too vulgar.” “But you used to cane Rory on his bare bottom?” “Ah that’s different – he’s my son, whereas this one is merely in my charge. I’ve no desire to see what he’s got down there! But pants up nice and tight, and we have a perfect view. Now we’ll see who’s boss, young man!”
Aunt Pam began to spank me slowly, but firmly and deliberately, each smack on my bare bottom making it sting smartly. After each smack she would keep her hand in place on my bottom, as if savouring the moment. Inevitably I wriggled under the chastisement, which caused Aunt Pam’s hand to occasionally touch even more intimate parts of my body. I felt hugely exposed, pants rubbing tightly against my skin as she smacked my bottom thoroughly.
After a while Aunt Pam began to concentrate on hitting the lower part of my bottom. “This is where a boy sits down, so he’ll feel it very sharply for a while,” I heard her tell Doreen. “Hold his pants tight while I give him his last ones.” The slaps resounded around the room and my bottom tingled all over, contrasting with the cool air wafting around my thighs and lower back. I was acutely aware not only of the spanking itself but also the intimacy between myself, Aunt Pam and Doreen.
The smacks stopped for a moment, but then Aunt Pam asked Doreen to pass her the board. I got three hard whacks as promised, one on my left buttock, one on my right and one right across my bottom cleavage.
Finally, Aunt Pam asked Doreen to give me three strokes of the cane, while she continued to hold me firmly over her knee. Doreen duly obliged. The cane strokes weren’t too hard, but they did bite.
I was kept over her knee for a few minutes when it was all over. “You can see he’s got a very sore bottom, can’t you, even through his pants?” Doreen remarked. After a bit of a lecture, I was finally let up and told to pull my jeans back up, put the kettle on and make some tea. Aunt Pam did ask whether I wanted some cream rubbing on my bottom to ameliorate the pain. I refused out of shyness, although a big part of me actually did want that.
Finally, she turned to me, all smiles and said: “Well, Asher, I think we have an understanding now, don’t you? And now you’ve met my little helpers!”
Looking back, of course, all that encounter did for me was kindle a desire for even more spankings – and they were duly forthcoming, not often but memorably, from Aunt Pam and Doreen until I turned 18.