When I was a young boy, just about to leave junior school in the summer, me and my best friend Paul were treated to a weekend seaside break by his mother. The treat was in recognition of us both passing our 11-plus exams, which gave us the opportunity to go on to grammar school. I should add that Paul’s mum just happened to be the assistant headmistress at our junior school.
We all shared one room in the hotel, so boys had to be on our best behaviour. Mrs Howarth, Paul’s mum, was a very strict teacher and both Paul and I had been spanked over her knee at some point during the academic year. She was known to spank naughty boys and girls with her slipper whenever they deserved it and I know that Paul had also been spanked by her at home several times over the years.
I had sampled one particular spanking off Mrs Howarth earlier in the school year when I had handed in poor (and late) homework. I was duly taken to her room and given the slipper despite me being Paul’s best friend.
Mrs Howarth gave me a damn good hiding after speaking to my own mother, with whom she had become friends thanks to their children’s association. Mrs Howarth warned her of my imminent punishment and Mum ,true to form, gave her friend both the permission and the encouragement she needed. “Make him suffer,” were, I believe the words she used. So Mrs Howarth did and I ended up with a very sore bottom that day.
Anyway, back to our holiday. Paul and I were allowed to go out onto the seafront by ourselves on the understanding that we would be back by 8pm and no later – and of course we both knew what would happen if we were late back!
That day we had a great time exploring the beach and paddling in the sea as well as eating popcorn and candy floss from the vans parked on the front. What we didn’t watch was the time, and suddenly we realised it was 9.30. My heart sank and in my head I was already picturing Mrs Howarth picking up her slipper and putting us both us boys across her knee.
I wasn’t far wrong. We both ran back to the hotel as fast as our legs would take us – only to find Paul’s mum sitting in the one chair of our room, holding her slipper. “Right, boys, who wants to go first?” was all she said. No long telling-off was needed – we knew exactly what we were getting, and why.
Well, I didn’t much fancy watching Paul being slippered knowing that I was about to get the same treatment, so I volunteered to go first. Mrs Howarth quickly took down my trousers and I was told to bend over her knee. She gave me one hell of a spanking, even over underpants. Eventually I was sent to the corner with tears running down one set of cheeks and my hands furiously rubbing the other set.
I then watched over my shoulder as Paul received exactly the same punishment, the sole of the slipper already warm from my own bum. Trousers down, over his mum’s knee and then a good hiding on the seat of his pants. Strangely enough, for the first time in my life I found myself getting aroused by the spectacle of a naughty boy getting a sound over-the-knee spanking.
Later, when we were sent to our beds and had been left on our own for a little while, I admitted my feelings to my friend, and Paul told me in confidence that he had experienced similar enjoyment watching his mother give me my own sore bottom.
Paul and I have remained close friends, and we both still remember that fateful evening in the hotel, when two naughty boys got well-deserved smacked bottoms.
I should add that when I got home, and my parents found out about my misbehaviour during my holiday, I was promptly sent upstairs to my bedroom, and was quickly followed there by my dad, who proceeded to warm my backside all over again!
Contributor: Colin