My name is Cherry – quite appropriate given our shared interest on this website – and I thought you might like to hear my own story, although it’s perhaps rather unexciting compared with many others published here.
I was raised in a very liberal home, at least by 1970s standards. I was never smacked, slapped, spanked, whatever you want to call it. My primary school had no corporal punishment, and while my grammar school did have the cane as a deterrent, I don’t think any pupil actually received it in the five years I was there.
So you could say I lived in a fairly smack-free bubble – which, for a budding spanko, was something of a pain (and not even in the place where it would have been welcome).
Ours was a pretty small village, and for much of my time growing up, I was the oldest child living there. I’m a bit ashamed to say that I rather exploited that status to become the village’s de-facto child minder. We never said ‘babysitting’, which would have seemed rather American – it was always: “Cherry, could you mind X for me tomorrow evening?” This gave me then opportunity to smack quite a few little bottoms!
As I say, this was the 1970s and most children in my village certainly did get spanked. Even the ones I smacked who weren’t subject to such sanctions wouldn’t tell their mums and dads if I spanked them, for fear of attracting further punishment.
I must emphasise that I never spanked a child without a good reason – there was always a ‘crime’. However, I must admit to rather exceeding my position.
As to the details, I most usually applied just a few hand smacks with the child still standing and full clothed – although even then they’d usually dutifully howl and beg me to stop.
If the child wasn’t suitably contrite, I’d put them across my lap and smack them on the seat of their underwear. If they still didn’t show contrition, it would be knickers or pants down, and perhaps even the hairbrush if they’d been particularly naughty.
One little boy in particular had something of a crush on me. Ethan seemed to misbehave every time I minded him, and I often smacked his bottom. I enjoyed this a lot, of course!
Ethan had a habit of saying: “Your smacks don’t even hurt!” That would genuinely spark anger in me and made me smack him all the harder. I even used a garden cane on him once – although it split after a couple of strokes so I stopped.
As I say, I rather regret smacking the children, as it was mostly for my own benefit – although I can say I never did it without any reason at all. It didn’t seem to do the children any harm, and I’m still pals with a few of them.
I had a very funny moment a few years ago, when I attended a spanking ‘munch’ in the city nearest to my old village. Who should be there but Ethan! We had a giggle together about those old times, but ultimately decided not to play, mostly because nowadays my interests are largely from the bottom.