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I want to send a spanking memory that happened not so long ago. I’ve dated many ladies here in UK, some were born here, but some moved here from Africa and brought their culture with them. I dated a beautiful devout Christian lady, and things were going great. Sadly, it did not work out. The lady in question had two teenage daughters whose father had left them when little, and still lived in Uganda. I dated her for about two years.
After a few dates, I was introduced to her two daughters aged 13 and 15. They were very quiet and respectful, so I was surprised to witness what happened a few months later. We were all out for a kind of family meal, a get to know each other, as I had briefly met them but mostly they said hello and went to their rooms.
We were supposed to all go together, but the eldest clearly was not keen and did not come home from her friend’s house until we had left. Her mother, as you can imagine, was frantic with worry. The young madam was not answering her phone either. I could see her mother was not only anxious but also angry, although she said nothing of it. The three of us went to a local restaurant and had a great time. My girlfriend looked amazing in her dress.

We got back home around 7.00 pm that evening, and we had some coffee and said a prayer. This was just as the older daughter walked into the living room.
Without a word, after the prayer the girl’s mother stood up and said to her daughter, “Where have you been?”
She told her daughter to sit down, and start talking with coherent words. As the girl sat down, her mum started lecturing her. I thought that was the end of it, but her mum ordered her to hand over her phone. At first she refused. The ensuing slap across her bare thigh was loud, and the girl was still in school uniform.
The girl handed over her phone, and then her mother phoned the mother of her friend. They were speaking a good few minutes. The conversation got loud, spoken in Ugandan. Then she said something to the youngest daughter, who quickly disappeared and came back with a huge hairbrush, which she passed to her mother.
Screaming, “You liar!” she charged at the older girl, grabbing at her dress, slapping her legs many times, grabbing at her dress to get her closer, beating her with the brush. The poor girl’s dress was dragged up. Showing her white nylon panties, she tried to protect herself from her mother’s wrath. It left nothing to imagination. The girl yelped a few times but, to her credit, took it well.
I felt so awkward, but dared not say a word.

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Back in the early 1990s, when the web was in its infancy, one of the main vehicles for user interaction was a set of discussion boards known as Usenet, which offered dozens of hierarchically-structured forums on a wide range of both mainstream and specialist topics – including one entitled alt.sex.spanking. It was to this newsgroup that an English woman identifying herself only as ‘H’ anonymously submitted three detailed (and frankly arousing) reminiscences of the corporal punishment she received as a girl. This is the first of those three posts.
As a female UK newbie, I read with interest the comments of fellow UK spanking lovers. I too can offer some personal experiences – particularly relating to the subject of ‘slippering’. I was at a mixed school in England in the 60s, when corporal punishment was still very common at most schools.
Corporal punishment was a normal part of everyday life – not excessive, virtually always justified and accepted. It was always given on the bottom, for safety reasons, never on the hand. Punishment of boys was frequently corporal – the ‘slipper’ (actually, in my experience, not a carpet slipper or a soft canvas shoe but most commonly a thick-soled tennis shoe) for the younger boys and for less serious offences, and the cane for older boys.
Detentions were used but boys often opted for the quick option of a corporal alternative. Even sixth form boys were known frequently to choose a slippering rather than an inconvenient detention or essay.
In the case of girls, written punishments such as essays and lines, or detentions, were the most frequent. However, for persistent misbehaviour, or serious matters, corporal punishment was not uncommon. In our school, one of the mistresses was delegated to administer the punishment – usually the slipper. This wasn’t used often but was by no means rare.
Only for really major offences was a trip necessary to the senior mistress – the only person authorised to give the cane to a girl. During my time at the school, only three or four girls were actually caned.
I should say that at school, I was usually really turned on by witnessing or hearing a boy being punished. It is this which has no doubt given me my interest in later life.
At school, the normal time for pupils to receive corporal punishment was after lessons finished on Fridays – apart from the immediate doses given after lessons in the classroom, the usual way was for the pupil to be put ‘on report’, meaning that it was necessary to attend the relevant teacher’s study (head of the various schools – lower, middle and upper, into which the school was divided).
There was usually a small queue of unhappy looking people waiting after the final bell at 3.30pm, and punishment began at 4pm (to allow the other children to leave, I think, otherwise crowds would have gathered to listen).
If passing the room later, however (as I often had occasion to do), one could usually hear the sound of swishing cane or meaty thwack from a slipper. I particularly enjoyed watching the recipient coming out afterwards, usually rubbing away at his bottom – even more so if it was someone I fancied.
Actually, I would try to pass by before they went in, to spot anyone I knew. Seeing a ‘fanciable’ one, I would then try to catch his eye and grin at him – so that later, conveniently returning and passing by at exactly the right moment, I could catch him coming out and attempt to walk along with him, to commiserate and maybe hear the details.
The situation at our homes was similar, but probably corporal punishment was in fact more widely used.
I can well remember (you can imagine why) a discussion or debate we held on the subject in my fourth form general studies class. To the surprise of our female teacher, the view of the class was overwhelming in favour of the quick option of corporal punishment.
To give an indication of its use, we were asked to indicate if we had received any form of corporal punishment at home during the last year.
Surprisingly, two thirds of the class raised their hands – probably three quarters of the boys, and half the girls. A further question (all I can remember, unfortunately) revealed that virtually all were punished on the bottom with some implement (e.g. strap, slipper or cane).
Now to be more specific about my own experiences. I was an only child in a middle class family. My parents weren’t particularly strict, but believed in a firm set of principles of behaviour. I didn’t have any trouble with this, being generally in agreement and (I think) reasonably well behaved.
But if I did transgress and do something contrary to their wishes (and it would usually be something about which I was myself ashamed), I would naturally and inevitably expect to be punished.
My mother took responsibility for my punishments, and had the normal range available for the day – I was kept in (‘grounded’ in today’s parlance) for a given period, stopped from doing things I wanted to do, had my pocket money withdrawn and so on.
In her armoury (quite normally for the time) my mother included corporal punishment. Following age-old custom, if my actions deserved it, I would be chastised. This was always administered in a traditional manner and on the usual place – with comprehensive ritual and formality, I was given a sore bottom.
‘Getting my bottom tanned’ or receiving a ‘smacked bottom’ were not common experiences, but neither were they that rare. When I was in trouble at primary school, I was given a traditional spanking. My mother sat on a chair in her bedroom and put me over her knee – my skirt pulled back and my knickers pulled down, she smacked my bare bottom until it was hot and stinging.
As soon as I reached secondary school, I was deemed too big to go over her knee – but far from too big to receive a sore bottom. I then had to bend over, most often for the slipper.
Because I was only beaten when I was thoroughly in trouble, for something for which I needed a salutory lesson, her punishments were not lightly administered. I viewed them with considerable trepidation and they weren’t easily forgotten. However, I would say that on every single occasion that I was beaten, the punishment was fully deserved and appropriate.
Every so often, my mother used corporal punishment on me throughout my time at secondary school, right up to my leaving home for university. In my early years at secondary school, when I was in serious trouble and thoroughly deserved to be punished, she would discuss with me what ‘sentence’ I deserved, and usually I couldn’t disagree that a hiding was appropriate.
Having been informed that my fate was to get a ‘severe dose of the slipper’, ‘a whacking’ or ‘my bottom tanned’ (she used the terms interchangeably), she would never punish me immediately but tell me when she would administer it, leaving a good while for me to meditate.
Typically, like a school, she would tend to save up my punishment till the end of the school week, and administer it when I got home on Friday afternoon. Like the boys at school, I knew what was coming and had all day to dwell on it. I’ve always considered one of the more memorable sensations from my school days the feeling of increasing unease as it got nearer the time for me to go home. I would feel sick in my stomach, weak-kneed, couldn’t concentrate and would need to visit the loo.
When I got home, my mother would send me to my bedroom, where I would try to concentrate on my homework – but usually failing, since the anticipation of a whacking always left me in a real state.
I can say there was some sexual feeling though – I’ve always found my bottom one of my most erogenous zones, and although I was always aware how much the tanning was going to hurt, I knew that afterwards the intense burning sensation would be stimulating, once the stinging had died down.
Perhaps more significantly, I have always been of a rather submissive nature, and turned on by a degree of humiliation and embarrassment. For example, during the punishment itself, I used to fantasise that I was getting it at school, in front of the class.
When my mother tanned me with ‘the slipper’, it was actually an old, large tennis shoe of my father’s, with a thick rubber sole, kept for the purpose in my wardrobe. I would have to pull up my school skirt or gymslip, gather it well around my waist, then bend down, leaning on the bed whilst raising my bottom for the punishment.
Mother always let me keep on my thin cotton school underpants (knickers, as we call them in England) but they never gave much protection from the shoe. She always used her full weight, with the strength of her tennis-trained arm, in applying each stroke. Each was given as hard as she could, while the severity of the tanning was varied by the number of belts given.
If Mother had determined that I needed a hiding, her punishments were never minor affairs – the slippering was always a serious punishment, never a few whacks for show, but always at least a dozen and usually more.
I used to press my face into the bedspread, trying to keep from crying and calling out whilst the slippering was administered. I can well remember how each successive whack would sting more and more, whilst the burning of my bottom grew to an almost unbearable level.
Afterwards she would leave me, lying on the bed and usually having a bit of a cry. Eventually I would get up in order to pull my knickers down in front of the full-length mirror in my room, and examine the damage. It never ceased to astonish me how red the slippered area of my bottom had become compared to the rest. My mother always concentrated on the lower part of my bottom, where I sat down – which had become a deep, dark red, mottled with the bruising that a tennis shoe leaves.
I would then get into my nightdress and eventually go to sleep, lying on my front, with the bedclothes and nightdress pulled up from my behind to help it cool off. I couldn’t have sat down at all straight after the punishment, but even the following day I was still really sore.
I have to say that compared with the apparent effects of a slippering on boys at school, I always seemed to find it both more painful at the time, and the soreness lasted for longer. Evidently a girl’s bottom is more sensitive, in my case at least.
Once, when Mother had given it me midweek, I can remember how uncomfortable it was sitting on hard classroom chairs the day afterwards. This constant reminder of the recent tanning of my bottom was all part of the punishment – my mother always said that she hadn’t done it hard enough if I wasn’t still sore the next day.
I think I’d better close there. I have one or two other experiences I could relate if anyone’s interested – I did outgrow the slipper at home, for example. But I’ll leave those for now.
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