I grew up in a fairly rural area of the UK in the 1960s, and a lot of the properties in my village had large gardens with apple and pear orchards. I was really never the sort of lad to get into trouble, but still at about 13 I was vulnerable to the odd bully – I guess I was really just trying to ‘fit in’ with my contemporaries.
On one very memorable day during the long summer holiday, a certain other lad – who always tried it on with me with threats – said he would tell everyone I was a coward if I didn’t go into an orchard next to the park where we were playing and steal some apples.
I was not a dishonest boy by nature, and certainly no thief, but to save face I ended up taking up the dare and squeezed through a gap in the fence into the orchard. Unsure really of exactly what to do, I just wandered around a bit and unfortunately walked straight into a very robust matronly lady, presumably the owner of the property.
Needless to say, she wasn’t best pleased to find a strange boy in her orchard and made it clear in no uncertain terms. She held me by the waistband of my shorts and marched me towards a garden bench.
What happened next was a bit of a blur but before I knew it she had undone my shorts and taken them down, and soon afterwards my pants were in the same place and I was put bare-bottomed across her knee.
Now, I’d had a smacked bottom from my parents before – what child of that era hadn’t? But this was a different experience altogether, a real spanking.
The woman had her left arm right around onto my tummy and was slapping my bare bum cheeks and the top of my legs hard and fast. I was far from brave about it, big boy as I was, crying throughout and trying to wriggle free.
I must have been spanked for a good five minutes before the woman pushed me off her lap. She didn’t say anything further, her hand having done all the talking as far as I was concerned. I rubbed my very sore bottom for a few moments, then quickly covered up and escaped.
Needless to say, when I got back on the other side of the fence, there was no sign of the bully who had got me into all this trouble. I was so well spanked that I had to be careful for several days not to let my mum see my bottom. If she had, I’m sure questions would have been asked and I might well have been put across her lap for an ‘encore’.
That spanking did teach me one important lesson, though – no more dares for me!
Contributor: Alexander