This was a further bombshell – I’d never been told to take my trousers down for any punishment before. I just stood there transfixed, my heart in my mouth. I was definitely having a huge adrenalised reaction, and I froze like an animal caught in headlights. Why haven’t you taken his pants down?” Doreen asked with interest. “Oh my dear, that’s far too vulgar.”“But you used to cane Rory on his bare bottom?”“Ah that’s different – he’s my son, whereas this one is merely in my charge. I’ve no desire to see what he’s got down there! But pants up nice and tight, and we have a perfect view. Now we’ll see who’s boss, young man!” I held out my hand, albeit with a dollop of attitude, but Aunt Pam said: ““You silly boy! I’m not going to cane your hands – there’s far too much risk of injury, especially as you play the piano. There’s only one place God has decreed that naughty boys should be punished, and that’s on the bottom.” Well, that boyish bare which was ivory white soon started turning pink. As Mrs F spanked so she instructed, she just couldn’t help it: “now Vicar, its all about rhythm and flow, rhythm and flow, varying speed, altering pace, alternate cheeks. Raising the hand half-way – crash it down – the hand full way – wallop! – Now a flurry, now three, one on each cheek, one in the crease, a hammer hand, an open palm, now six hard to finish”. She had friends there, she had respect, she even had a few who envied her. Also, quite possibly, a few ladies, especially the young mothers, were in awe of her, even, more than a little scared of her.

To say the least, the meal was a slow somber affair. Mummy had given her a small portion, knowing that her tummy would be in knots. Soon the table was cleared, and the pots washed. Once they were all put away, Mummy spoke. “Up you go.”Karen climbed the curved oak stair case slowly, her head down. She reached the landing and sulkily walked to her door. In she went and shut the door behind her, resting against it. She cried, she had let her Mummy down, she had been naughty girl. After all her praise, she was now a naughty girl, about to get a bare bottom spanking Karen was on her tummy. She was sniffing now, not crying, and trying to understand the lovely feeling she has in her most intimate area, as she gently pushes up and down on the bed, her bright red bobbing up and down, which she can see, in the mirror, if she looks over. Which of course she does… Thanks to the church, the Lord above, Vicars and local matriarchs. And of course the mistress of Spank herself, Aphrodite of the Beautiful Bare Acre and Bottom Bare – who else? Penny had a half-hearted attempt at dissuading them both: “Natasha, its wrong to take a peak at a private meeting, bottoms bare or not. If you insist, I’ll spank your bare to kingdom come…” Mummy was a perfect product of the 1950’s. A dutiful housewife who had kept an excellent house since the day she married. Sadly her husband was no longer around, but stoically, with a stiff upper lip and a gallon of fortitude, she had carried on running the house, her home, with pride.Mildred went to Ivy’s, where she met Betty and Mary. Like the fire in the plump bottom of our naughty girl, news of the good irls downfall began to spread. Well, Simon, what have you been up to?” she asked. Before I could open my mouth, it became clear that this was a question not really aimed at me, as Mum described my misbehaviour, adding to the list one or two little sins I thought had been ignored or forgotten.

Mildred was walking by, the strains of the spanking symphony drifted through the window turning into a cocophony of sound, hard whups! and long, long howls of pain! She nodded satisfactorily. “Good old Mummy, keeping up the standards, that’ll teach her!” In due time, this joyous fact would be shared with parish ladies as they discussed the merits and joys of bottoms bare and spanking matters, over each other’s knee as it turned out, on Wednesday nights at Ladies Group. But that was for the near future. There and then, in real time, there was some proper action due. She took hold of my chin and looked me in the eye. “You’ve got the face of an angel and hands that are a gift from God. Now let’s see if you’ve got a nice little bottom that the Lord made for spanking, shall we? Take your trousers down!”

Mummy noticed, and the other W.I.Women noticed. Not only noticed, but mentioned it, in a subtle way. “Your Karen is making a fine young lady, she’ll certainly turns some heads one day!” Unbeknown to most of the class, during the lunch break the two boys in question had forced a younger pupil to swallow some marbles. Their victim had been taken to the local hospital as a precaution, but was not seriously harmed – presumably the doctors believed nature would take its course, and the boy would eventually just poo them out again. Almost a minute passed, but it felt longer. Karen looked at her beautiful Mummy, the rounded body looked so cosy and even at this moment strangely comforting, her Mummy bear almost. She saw her Mummy looking at her bush, her hips, she could almost read the thoughts in her head…”My my, my little girl is a girl no more.” The sobbing didn’t as the heat sank in, and pain exploded, she just wailed and wailed.”Now up you get… and straight to bed young lady, AND stay there… Once you have stopped crying I don’t want to hear another peep out of you…do you hear? Or you will be going over my knee again… Okay it’s done!” Mum did punish me again over the years sometimes with others present but fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you view, never used the cane. However, I still have it to this day as it very useful for role play with my partner.

The spit in her mouth had gone, her knees went weak as she saw Mummy swell before her taking a deep breath. Her eyebrow lifted and vanished beneath her fringe. She sat down, and opened the envelope. Every week for many a year, Friday night to be exact, time of the Frobisher family spank. She would preside, magisterially, for all to see through kitchen window the panorama. Over her lap, hems, trousers and panties down, bottoms bare in the air receiving the benison of spanking palm, the household would go – including anyone else to hand. Now all right thinking followers of spank know the old saying that “all is fair when bottoms are bared and spankers are spanked, and all shall be well”. Mrs F followed this through. When she was done, her own cheeks were roasted and toasted in their turn, by the assembled company. It was quite a sight to see. Penny as neighbour had a first-class seat, over the garden fence. One day, I was out playing in the garden. Mum was there too and talking over the fence to our left-hand neighbour, who I called Auntie Deirdre (the writer of the other story has already pointed up this rather peculiarly British tradition). She was in her 50s and had two grown-up children. The normal dose was two or three firm strokes across the seat of the boy’s shorts. It was always boys who got their bottoms ‘heated’, as our teacher put it – except for one memorable occasion, when she decided to slipper two girls who had been continually talking in class, despite several warnings.She sat down on that vestry chair, creaking slightly under the weight of bare acre, which made Tasha giggle. Her freshly spanked cheeks on wood nestled. She was ready! Vicar went over, displaying a bare quite boyish but chunky, too much indulgence and not enough fasting. In looks both fore, and aft, Penny was reminded of Finn, husband and partner to Laywoman Lawson, who as it happened gave and received as Penny suspected (found out on a visit one night). A spanking husband and a spanking wife was quite the zeitgeist among the 40 somethings. Equal opportunities. I did find the atmosphere of spanking that was around in every facet of cultural life quite exciting; forbidden, terrifying, and yet intriguing. At my primary school I was once sent to the headmaster for playfully spanking a girl’s bottom – but instead of getting the cane (which is what usually happened if you were sent to the head) he just scooped me up in one movement, slapped my behind three times and told me to never to do that again. I was otherwise a model pupil, so I guess I’d earned some credit points. So to my intense embarrassment, I had to pull down my pants and show off my (very red and sore) bottom again – but it was better than a ‘top up’ over Dad’s knee right then.