It’s pretty easy for me to pinpoint exactly where my interest in corporal punishment began. I was eight years old, and my mother took me with her on a visit to a friend she had made recently through (I think) some mutual charity work. Her name was Marcia, although typically of the time, I had to call her ‘Auntie Marcia’.
Marcia had two daughters, both a bit older than me. Pamela was the eldest, and I’m guessing she was about 12 or 13 at the time, while her sister Linda was 10, I think. I was ordered (somewhat reluctantly – these were girls after all, yuk!) to go and play with them while our mothers had a coffee and a chat. After playing in the garden for a bit with a tennis racquet (just the one!) and ball, it started to rain, and the girls took me up to their bedroom.