A blast from the past

Some time ago, my wife and I spent the day with my wife’s sister and her two boys. After a good day out, the boys were treated to pizza and, as you do, we sat around talking after the meal.

I asked the boys about school and friends – the usual type of conversations you have with boys of four and six. The six-year-old happened to mention his friend Chris. It was a bit of a tenuous link, but I told him that one of my friends in school had the same name, and one day we got into trouble together.

My young nephew asked me what happened, so I related the events of that fateful day back, way back in 1969 – and the room went very quiet!

I explained that Chris and I were both seven when this happened, so just a year older than he was now. After a PE lesson had finished, Chris and I had been sked to collect up the hoops and soft bean bags, put them in the basket and return them to the walk-in storage cupboard.

When we got to the cupboard, Chris suddenly grabbed a bean bag and threw it straight at me – I ‘returned fire’. Chris was about to heave a second bag when we heard our teacher shout: “Stop that!” The young boys jumped as I shouted out the words as I related the story.

Anyway, I explained that Chris and I had been marched straight to the office of the deputy headmistress, Mrs Lane (name changed – Ed). Mrs Lane was very strict and told us we were both going to get slipper – in reality, a plimsoll of course. My six-year-old nephew asked what that meant and so of course I told him all the plimsoll and the principle of corporal punishment. I don’t think he believed a word I said!

Rumour had it that Mrs Lane rather enjoyed using smacking boys’ bottoms with the plimsoll, and very rarely used it on girls. She sat down on a chair, held her hand out towards me and instructed me to step forward – I was apparently to be spanked first.

I had never had my bottom smacked in such a formal way before – maybe a few smacks to the legs here and there and a whack from mum in passing occasionally, but never anything more serious. Naturally I was nervous – but I was also keen to get the punishment over with, so going first was fine by me.

I stepped forward nervously, taking in both the waiting plimsoll on the desk and Mrs Lane’s waiting lap. Chris watched with his wide eyes, while our PE teacher stood close by, her arms folded and a look of grim satisfaction on her face.

I was put across Mrs Lane’s knee. We weren’t allowed to wear pants for PE as it was considered unhygienic, so only my thin PE shorts offered any protection against the slippering.

The head fussed over my position for a few minutes – I presume she was trying to get my bottom in just the right position. Then she gripped the waistband of my shorts and pulled the seat as tight as it would go over my upturned buttocks.

I felt her elbow on my back and she patted my behind with her hand a few times. I then felt the slipper being laid across my buttocks, there was a couple of taps and then ‘whack!’

I was given six of the best for my trouble. As I recall, the rubber-soled plimsoll didn’t sting in the same way a hand does on a bare bum. But it hurt all right – there was a dull thud on each impact, quickly followed by a a similarly dull ache in my nether regions. I didn’t cry, but it was certainly very uncomfortable. It as all over and done with in about 15 to 20 seconds, and I was returned to my feet.

Mrs Lane turned to me. “If you are ever naughty again, John, you will get double what I have just given you – and next time I will take your shorts down too. Do you understand?” “Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.” Mrs Lane seemed mollified and turned to my co-offender.

Now, Chris had been carefully taking in my spanking and didn’t fancy getting one himself. Even as Mrs Lane beckoned to him to come to her, he began to back off. I’m sure he was about to leg it but our class teacher caught hold of him and took him to her boss’s lap.

“Christopher, you are a very naughty boy for trying to run away,” Mrs Lane told him. “As you can’t take your punishment like a big boy, I think we’ll have four extra smacks of the slipper.” She bent Chris over her waiting lap, positioned and prepared him as she had done me, and began to administer the spanking.

Chris began to cry – then, about halfway through his punishment, I saw a dark patch appear on the crotch of his shorts. He had wet himself – and Mrs Lane into the bargain. She was steaming mad.

“You dirty little boy! How dare you?” She turned to our class teacher. “Go and get his school shorts from the class room so we have some dry clothes for him to change into, will you?”

She yanked down Chris’s shorts and ordered him to step out of them. Then she stood up, found some paper towels and proceeded to use them to dry the boy’s bottom and genitals. Grabbing another handful of towels, Mrs Lane did her best to dry her own skirt.

Our teacher returned with Chris’s shorts and pants. Mrs Lane asked her to close the door and turned to Chris again. “Now, you naughty boy, I think we will start all over again at smack number one. Come here to me, this minute!”

It was at this point that my friend did something unbelievably stupid. He looked Mrs Lane right in the face and spat out: “I hate you, you old cow!”

As I got to this point in retelling my story, you could have heard a pin drop. My two young nephews were hanging on my every word, eyes wide. Finally, the eldest asked, almost in a whisper: “What happened.”

Well, what happened was that Mrs Lane grabbed Chris and angrily hauled him back across her knee. Then she proceeded to administer a very sound bare bottom spanking with her hand. He must have got around 30 or 40 smacks in all and he was crying hard by the time it was over. He was put back on his feet and Mrs Lane demanded an apology, which Chris mumbled through his tears.

The apology was apparently accepted – but it didn’t stop what happened next. Mrs Lane grabbed the plimsoll and put Chris back in the punishment position, then she proceeded to administer the 10 strokes he had been awarded earlier.

As I ended my tale, I sat back and looked at my nephews. They were speechless. I made eye contact with my sister-in-law who smiled and gave a sideways nod towards her four-year-old – that little boy had never been so quiet!

His elder brother spoke first, though, and asked me if it was all really true. I assured him it was. “That was just how things were when I was at school,” I said. “Any teacher could smack your bottom – you only went to the headmaster for the cane.”

The conversation slowly fizzled out – but not before both my wife and her sister had related a few school tales of their own. Detention and lines were the order of the day here, although their headmistress had been authorised to use the slipper for serious offences. However, neither of the two women seated at the table had ever had it, ever.

I certainly didn’t enjoy the slippering at the time, let alone experience a sexual reaction. However, as the years went by, I did begin to eroticise the incident. The memory became a fantasy, which in fact was way more fun than the reality. Naturally, I didn’t mention this aspect of the affair when I recounted my story at the dinner table!

However, in the evening after that conversation – and after some teasing and horseplay – I found myself across my wife’s knee for the very first time. She told me I had been a very naughty boy and playfully smacked my bottom as we went upstairs. We started reading up on adult spanking and both of us enjoy reading the stories on your website. We almost always now precede intercourse with a light spanking for me before getting down to the ‘main event’.

A few days later, my sister-in-law told my wife that both boys had asked further questions about spankings on the way home, and she had teased them with a few playful threats to get them off to bed in short order. Apparently, both boys suddenly became a lot more well obedient, just in case Mum really meant it!

She added that she had never smacked the boys as a punishment but the younger one had on one occasion previously asked what a spanking was like. I like to think he spent a few enjoyable and playful moments across his mum’s knee, and enjoyed the experience, but my wife didn’t ask, and I didn’t think it my business to press the point with my sister-in-law.

In any case, both boys are too old for spankings now – unlike, according to my wife, yours truly!

Contributor: John

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