A candidate for the cane

I grew up in the UK in the 1970s and early 80s, when corporal punishment was gradually getting less common in school – but was still widely used by parents in the home. I was certainly no stranger to a trip across my mum’s knee for a soundly smacked bottom, my peak spanking years being between the ages of five and 13.

At school, I largely avoided more than a smacked leg from a teacher and had never had the cane, which was reserved for the most serious misbehaviour. However, when I was 11 I came very close to a caning – and as a result got the soundest ever bare-bottomed spanking from my mum.

I sat next to a girl in my class called Ingrid. One day, we were messing around in a lesson, flicking pieces of paper at each other. Ingrid had her pen in her mouth and as a joke I pushed it further in with my hand. To my horror it went right in and Ingrid began gagging, spluttering and then burst into tears.

The teacher came straight over to help Ingrid, who was tearfully saying that her throat hurt. The angry teacher took Ingrid to see the school nurse and removed me from class, so I found myself sat fearfully outside the study of Miss Jones, the deputy head.

The school secretary informed me that I was in big trouble – my mum had been called and was on her way to school. I was to wait in an empty classroom. Now I was properly scared – Miss Jones was a formidable woman but my mum was on another level when presented with a naughty son to deal with.

After what seemed like an age, but was probably about half an hour, the classroom door opened and Miss Jones, my mum and Ingrid’s mother all came bustling in. I felt tears welling up as the three angry women scolded me. It was borne upon me that Ingrid was lucky not to have been seriously hurt, and I was a wicked, naughty boy.

Unsurprisingly, Ingrid’s mum demanded to know how I was to be punished for this. Miss Jones explained that violent behaviour towards another pupil would normally mean corporal punishment was justified, and that I certainly deserved to be caned. As I heard these words I was terrified, and felt like I might wet my pants in fear.

However, Miss Jones explained that only the headmaster, Mr Pym, was authorised to deliver a caning – and he was absent from school for the rest of the week. The three women agreed that I shouldn’t wait a week to be punished, so my mum suggested that she administer a smacked bottom there and then. The other two ladies nodded enthusiastically and took a seat while Mum put another chair in front of them and took a firm grip on me, manoeuvring me to her side as she too sat down.

I was bright red with embarrassment as Mum took a firm grip on my trousers and in a flash they were round my ankles, followed quickly by my underpants, and I felt totally exposed in front of Miss Jones and Ingrid’s mother, who were both watching the proceedings closely. There was a brief sense of relief as Mum guided me over her lap, concealing my privates – but that relief soon dissipated as my mother adjusted her position and I felt my bare bottom elevated. I was now fully aware of what a good view of my young bottom I was giving to the other women.

The first slap from my mother’s hand focused me – it was much harder than I was used to from Mum and I squealed more in shock than pain. The second quickly followed and Mum established a rhythm, going hard and steady between my left and right buttocks. I realised that the pain in my bottom was growing, and I wouldn’t be able to stand it for much longer.

I began to squeal after each smack and then, sure enough, I felt the tears come. Soon I was bawling, sobbing mess as Mum continued to chastise me. My bottom was positively on fire as she delivered a final six, extra-hard smacks and I howled as each slap was delivered to my already stinging backside.

Mum held me over her lap and ordered me to apologise to Ingrid’s mother. I could hardly get the words out, but I did so through my sobbing. Mum retorted that I didn’t sound sorry enough – she delivered another six hard and fast smacks that had me howling again. I said sorry over and over again and finally Mum let me up.

As I clambered unsteadily to my feet, I no longer cared about Miss Jones and Ingrid’s mother seeing my genitals – I was still crying hard and clutching my burning backside. Finally, Mum told me to pull my pants and trousers back up and ‘stop being such a big baby’. Both the other women congratulated my mum on a job well done, and I was taken home in disgrace.

I never did get the cane at school – but Ingrid, who had been told all about my bare-bottomed spanking by her mother, teased me mercilessly about it for the rest of the term.

Contributor: Ian

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