I discovered my spanking interest at an early age. It was the middle of the 70s and I was six years old. My best friend from school was Nigel and he had a younger sister Jenny – there was barely a year between them.
Nigel and I would invariably have to include Jenny in our games and the day I got my first spanking, from Nigel’s mum, was because of one of those games that Jenny encouraged us to play.
My parents weren’t spankers. They supported corporal punishment at school but didn’t enforce it at home. My mum would always say: “If you get smacked at school you probably deserved it, so don’t come running to me.”
Nigel’s mum, however, definitely was a spanker. I remember this incident like it was yesterday – it was my first time, after all.
It was the summer holidays and I would spend some days at Nigel’s house whilst my mum worked. Nigel and I were told to play in the back garden and to include Jenny, but under no circumstances were we to play near the fish pond.
So you know what’s coming. Nigel’s mum checked on us every few minutes so we weren’t left alone for long – but within minutes we were all covered in mud. Nigel’s mum was far from happy and started telling us off.
We were marched into their porch, where we had to strip off all of our clothes. Once we were all naked, our clothes went into an automatic washing machine. This was the 70s so I had never seen one of these before – my own mum had a ‘twin tub’.
Nigel had started to sob as he obviously knew what was coming – I had no idea. We were then carried one by one up to the bathroom and Nigel’s mum ran a bath in a furious, cold silence. We all went into the bath together with strict instructions to wash ourselves and no messing about.
Nigel’s mum left the bathroom. My friend was clearly upset but Jenny kept smiling at me so I kept smiling back, thinking that everything must be OK.
After a while, Nigel’s mum came back into the bathroom, helped finish cleaning the bits her son had missed and picked him up out of the bath.
Nigel sobbing openly by now. His mum dried him down quickly, took him by the hand and pulled him out of the bathroom. Nigel tried to pull back but had no chance.
Jenny continued to play with the water and kept taking looks at the door. Then the smacking noises started and Nigel started crying and screaming. All this was muffled by the pulled-to-bathroom door. I remember feeling a bit uneasy at that time but Jenny continued to smile at me, so I did the best I could to ignore the noises off.
Finally, the smacking stopped and we could still hear Nigel crying, which got louder and then quieter. A few seconds afterwards, his mum came back into the bathroom and followed the same routine with me.
She washed the bits I had missed, yanked me out of the bath and dried me down. Then she took my hand and led me out of the bathroom. I didn’t resist like Nigel – why would I?
Instead of going to Nigel and Jenny’s room, I was led into the parents’ room. Nigel’s mum sat on the bed and looked cross. I stood naked in front of her as she started ‘the lecture’. I don’t remember what she said much, but it did include the risk of drowning and ruining my clothes.
At the end of the lecture, she leaned forward, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me towards her. Something was said about being naughty and how I must learn to obey, then I found myself being lifted up and put over her knee.
The next few minutes were a blur. Something inside just went ‘ping’. I can remember the feeling, even today, of how good I thought it felt to be over an attractive woman’s knee with my bare bottom in the air. It was almost like an orgasm – maybe it was? It’s hard to describe coherently.
As I looked down at Nigel’s mum’s feet, I felt her hand on the small of my back and then the first smack. I remember being pushed forward by the smack but not really feeling it and then the same with the second, third and so on for.
The spanking stung by now and I could feel that my bottom was hot and pulsing. I was put back on my feet and my hands went straight to my buttocks. I was made to promise to be good, then I was led to Nigel and Jenny’s room where Nigel was lying on his bed, crying and holding his bottom.
“That’s enough crying, young man,” she told him. “I’m going to find some clothes for you both, and if you don’t turn off the water works, there’ll be more smacked bottoms!”
She left the room. I was unsure of what I was feeling at that time – I guess now that it must have been the adrenaline.
As soon as Nigel’s mum had left the room, I went straight to the door to see/hear if the same happened to Jenny. It did. The little girl got well smacked by her mum but unlike us boys, she didn’t cry.
When her mum brought Jenny into the room, bottom freshly smacked, she just sat on the bed and watched us boys get dressed whilst Nigel’s mum found some clean clothes for her too.
All us children had to play inside for the rest of the day. As she walked me home later, Nigel’s mum promised she wouldn’t tell my own mother what had happened, but I would need to make sure I behaved when at her house or I would go over her knee again and have my bare bottom smacked much harder.
From that day I was hooked on spanking and anything to do with it: TV, comics, newspaper stories, encyclopaedias etc.
As a boy of the 70s, I wasn’t bad but I did get into my fair share of trouble – usually with Nigel and sometimes with both siblings. Every time resulted in a bare-bottomed spanking and a telling-off from his mum.
I don’t think she ever said anything to my own mother about the spankings she gave us – certainly Mum never mentioned it to me.
Nigel’s mum spanked us with her hand until the age of about eight, when she started to use a slipper on us.
When Nigel and I went on to the local secondary comprehensive school, she got a cane for our bottoms. The latter made our behaviour improve a hell of a lot, I can tell you, as all punishments were always given on the bare bottom.
Sadly Nigel’s family moved away when we boys were 14 – just as I was beginning to quite enjoy being caned. We kept in touch for a little while but these things never last and I have never seen Nigel or Jenny since.