It was 1951, and I was six years old. My mother would often take me on the bus to the cinema in the next town, and I had asked permission to go on my own. But my father told me that I was too young, although one day, when I was older, I would be allowed to go on my own.
But if course, I was an impatient and often mischievous and naughty boy. I knew where to get the bus and I had saved enough pennies for both my fare and cinema ticket. I thought I could get back before Dad got home from work, while my mum would think I was playing at a friend’s house. So off I went.
Of course, I realised that if I got caught I would be punished by my parents – but that was usually only a smack on the legs. It stung for a few moments but would be worth it for a trip to the cinema. I had never been put across my father’s knee for a proper spanking.
It all went wrong after I left the cinema. I got on the correct number bus but it just happened to be going the wrong way – I had forgotten to cross the road to go home. As soon as I realised my mistake I got off the bus, crossed over the road and waited for the next in the other direction.
I was now worried about the time – I was going to be late home for sure. Was I heading straight for Daddy’s or Mummy’s knee when I get home, and my first proper spanked bottom? I ran as fast as I could from the bus stop and as I came round the corner of my avenue, I could see my parents walking up and down the pavement, obviously worried and desperately trying to find me. I was in so much trouble!
“Where have you been?” Dad shouted. “Inside – now!” He was so cross with me – understandable, I suppose. As he firmly took me by the arm into the house, I thought about the slipper he had threatened me with several times before.
I had been brought up to always tell the truth, so I was at least sensible enough to tell the truth, and my adventure to the cinema came out. After a short but severe telling off from Daddy he told me that he was about to give me my first spanked bottom and as he had previously explained where he would give me my spankings, he took me into the dining room. I knew for sure now that I was about to realise my worst fear.
Dad pulled a chair out from under the table and placed it in the middle of the room. As Mum looked on, I was beckoned to stand in front of my father, then told to fetch his slipper from the drawer. After handing it over, I was ordered to bend over his knee. My trousers were then taken down and as I felt my Dad’s hand placed firmly on my back. He told me that as this was my first spanking, he would let me keep my underpants up. From that I assumed that next time it would be bare bottom.
I lay there petrified as he gave me another last-minute telling off , but that first whack of his slipper soon arrived and boy did it take my breath away and I screamed! My bottom was so sore and stinging already, another eleven whacks of Daddy’s slipper followed in quick succession and I was in agony and sobbing, crying and begging him to stop. Needless to say, my pleas and apologies were ignored – I was in agony !
I got no sympathy from Mum either. As I ran to her, sobbing and rubbing my now very sore bottom, her only remark was: “You got exactly what you deserved, you naughty boy!”