February 21st, 2013

Welcome…

Regular visitors will know this is a sister website to www.overthedesk.com

As the name suggests, this website aims to offer recollections and memories of spanking and discipline related incidents, whereas the overthedesk site deals mainly with fiction stories that are realistice and may be based on true-life experiences.

We’re always keen to hear from our readers with comments, views and especially any recollections you have of spanking and corporal punishment incidents you’ve witnessed or experienced.

Contact: chasyoung3@yahoo.com

 

November 28th, 2016

A girl’s Introduction to the Slipper

Well, let me tell you about my introduction to The Slipper at school.

I was about thirteen, a wicked age indeed, and with many years of naughtiness behind me, my parents were in despair as to what to do with me. They decided I would fare better in a small private school with tiny class numbers where I could be observed more closely. While corporal punishment was being phased out in some state schools, the private school I was to go to still disciplined their girls this way. I’m sure that influenced my parents’ decision to send me there, as they were firm believers in the rod connecting firmly and regularly with their wilful and disobedient daughter’s backside.

So, on the first day of September, I dressed in the hateful uniform for the first time. Horrible navy knickers that reached my belly button and hugged my cheeks roundly. A stiff white blouse and a black A-line pleated skirt that had to touch my knees AND NO SHORTER! A black cardigan with a yellow piping at the collar and cuffs was par for the hateful course, but the old school tie in the same black and yellow stripe design just paved the way for the matching blazer and the grim school overcoat and heralded the dawn of a dreadful new era for girls school uniforms in general. The hated straw boater with black and yellow ribbons that hung down my back and didn’t quite hide my furious face. There was no getting away from it either. The teachers used to parade the streets of the local area to ensure that their precious girls were dressed correctly on their way to school. Any breaches of this rule were swiftly dealt with by the strict headmistress in morning assembly. So for a little while, I decided to comply.
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November 25th, 2016

A girl spanked by her mother

In the 1970s, when I was around eight years old, it was morning and I was supposed to be getting ready for school, but I was having a sulky week. On Monday, I had been cheeky to both my mum and dad, and surprisingly I had gotten away with it, so I had continued into greater heights of badness. On Tuesday, I stuck my tongue out at our elderly neighbour and nobody said anything.

‘Great, thought I. I can do as I please!’

On Wednesday, my elder sister gave me a pile of my ironed uniforms to put away so I stuffed the whole pile under the bed and went to throw homemade water balloons at the commuters coming home from work instead.

On Thursday morning I was still in my pyjamas long after I had been told to get dressed and ready for school. I heard my mother calling me from the downstairs bathroom. Slamming every door, I went to find out what she wanted.

I slammed open the bathroom door and shouted rudely: “What is it Mother? I’m busy getting ready for school!”

My mother was sitting, as calm as you like, on the side of the bath. Her hair was a nut brown cloud of frizz around her head, one of those bad seventies perms and she had a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a long cigarette in the other.
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November 23rd, 2016

male school paddling

I remember it as if it happened yesterday. Scott was my nemesis all through my middle school years. His taunts and name-calling climaxed one day when we were in 9th grade. Scott’s insults in front of my girlfriend called me to action. I challenged him to a fight, and he accepted. We agreed to meet after school on the football field behind the bleachers.

The word got around among the students that there would be a fight after school. By the time I got to the football field a good crowd had assembled. Word must have reached Mr J, the school principal, because he showed up just as Scott and I were pushing one another but before any punches were landed. He marched us up to the office.

It was obvious that Mr J was angry and in a bad mood. He mumbled something about having to miss an important meeting just to ‘deal’ with us.

 I knew exactly how we were to be dealt with. It was made clear to us on the very first day of school that anyone caught fighting on campus would be paddled and possibly suspended. I knew this when I challenged Scott to the fight, and I was prepared for the consequences. I freely admitted to Mr J that I challenged Scott to fight and mentioned how Scott had been harassing me. Scott denied the charges and accused me of being verbally abusive to him. Mr J made it clear that even if Scott had been verbally hounding me, it did not give me the right to fight with him. He then said we would each be paddled. I was to get 5 swats for instigating the fight, while Scott was to receive 3 swats as a participant.
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November 22nd, 2016

Another Caning for Annie

It was history. I was sat at the back as usual for a lesson I hated. This was the last term for we sixteen year olds, before our exams, and Mr Ellis was at his board trying to cram our minds with knowledge. I must have been drifting in my thoughts when there was a crash against the back wall, which brought me back to reality rather quickly. It was the wooden board duster on the floor next to me.

Mr Ellis turned back to his board and, without thinking, I picked up the duster and prepared myself to throw it back. At the point of launch he turned round and saw it travelling back to the front. I was done for and I knew exactly where I was heading next. My unbelieving classmates’ next sight of me would be squirming back in my seat with red tear-stained eyes and a bottom to match, but that would be later.

Mr Ellis was very calm as he told me to stand up and come out to the front. I knew we were heading for a walk along the corridor, and this we did. I was left standing outside the school office for ages. When he reappeared, he walked past me and back towards the classroom. The school secretary came out and she left me standing, hands on head, outside the headmistress’s office.
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November 20th, 2016

Home punishments

I was 10 years old when I went to stay with my mam’s Aunty, who worked part time in one of her partner’s shops he owned. Mam and dad worked full time and were going to send me to boarding school till Aunty Joan said she’d look after me. She lived on her own but Joe would stay at weekends when I was home with mam and dad.

My parents never spanked me; just grounded me, which was enough.

Anyway, after two weeks at my auntie’s I started being cheeky to her. That’s when I was told I had two options; be grounded for four weeks or have my bare bottom spanked. The four week grounding would mean, come in from school, tea, bath, then bed. The spanking would be over and done with and I could go back to playing out with my friends. I took that option.

I was told to go to my bedroom and remove all of my clothes except my underpants and stay there till I was called. I was called to the dining room where she was sitting on a dining chair. She gave me a lecture, then told me to remove my underpants and bend over her knee where she spanked my bare bottom until she was satisfied. Then I was made to stand in a corner for 15 minutes naked.
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November 7th, 2016

Annie’s second caning

School always started the same; assembly with the Headmaster on the stage, a hymn, headmaster’s ramblings, announcements, a couple of short prayers and then off to our form room for registration.

It was the middle of prayers when I got the urge to blow my nose; this I did! I blew so hard it could be heard all round the hall. All I could do was act as if it came from somewhere else and luckily we all had our heads bowed. Surprisingly the head just carried on, but when we reached the end of assembly he only dismissed the boys, the girls were to remain until the person who disrupted assembly stood up.

I was totally embarrassed. What could I say? Only a good excuse could get me out of this mess and slowly I, a fourth year, raised myself to my feet. Everyone else was dismissed. It was just me and the Headmaster. He walked over to me and demanded an explanation. Clearly it had to be good, for it was only a short walk to his office (or the Headmistress’s for that matter) and it was a walk I did not want to take. I blamed the outburst on trying to hold back a sneeze and had failed to do so. It was that simple. He was surprisingly satisfied with my excuse and I was sent to registration. Wow! A lucky escape, I thought.
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November 2nd, 2016

Two detentions = One Visit to the Headmaster

This memory relates to my later school career.

I very seldom earned a school detention, so it was unfortunate that I should get two in the same week, because that meant an automatic summons to the headmaster for a caning. I don’t even remember clearly what the detentions were for, but I certainly do remember the consequences.

As expected, the summons came during the lesson immediately before morning break on the Friday. I was to report to the head’s office as soon as the class was dismissed. I didn’t want to hurry, but knew it would be very unwise to keep Mr Pelsall waiting. Usually, if I passed his door at this time on a Friday, there would be a small queue of unhappy boys waiting their turn for the ‘whack’. This time, I was the only candidate which meant I would have to knock and wait rather than being called in when the previous boy came out.

Nervously, I tapped on the door. A voice bade me enter.

“Ah, Lee! You know why you’re here, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well, say it!”

“Getting two detentions this week, Sir.”

“Exactly. Nothing to be proud of, is it? Well, you know what to expect. I’d have thought being given the first detention on Tuesday would bring you to your senses, but no, you had to keep on clowning your way through lessons until Mr Carstairs gave you another detention yesterday. I’m sorry, but if the thought of a detention doesn’t bother you, you obviously need a rather stronger deterrent. I’m going to cane you.”
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November 2nd, 2016

Staying with a Neighbour

When I was about thirteen, just after going up to the second form at school, we had a minor family hiatus. My mother had to go into hospital and my father had no way of cancelling a business trip to Holland. So what to do with me?

Opposite us lived an elderly widow, or so she seemed to me. She was actually popular with us lads; for example, she always found us some tasks for Scout Bob-a-Job week. The money went to our scout troops, not to us, and there was always a lavish tray of cakes etc when the work was done. So, I was quite pleased when it was put to me that I could spend a fortnight with her.

First evening; my stuff had already been taken round to her house the night before and I went straight there from school. As soon as I arrived, Mrs Pentire asked about my homework, adding that my dad had warned her to make sure I did it properly.

“In fact,” she added. “He tells me you can be a bit of a handful.”

That was something of an exaggeration, as I was really quite well-behaved. It didn”t sound like the sort of thing Dad would say, despite him having to spank me from time to time. But not as often as my mother did, or as hard!
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November 2nd, 2016

Camping Memory

I was on a local swim team and Linda, who was 5 yrs older than me, acted as my guide and big sister who always scolded me but was caring to me. We always cheered each other at swim meets and one time we went camping with boys in one tent and girls in the other. At this meet I was the only 12 year old boy qualified for this special championship meet. I was still excited to go camping and I had my own tent. Linda still became the chaperone, according to the parents, and she was in charge at camp.

As the only boy, I was on my own as she and the girls did their own thing. Linda loved the role of being boss and she loved letting me know that I had to listen to her. She kept telling me to fold my clothes, tidy my tent, etc. It was annoying and she repeated to me that if I didn’t listen she would put me over her knee. Little did I know, she meant business.

“Walter,” and she would whisper away from the girls. “I am in charge, young man, and I am older than you. I will not hesitate to spank your bottom.” And she would pat my swim suit.
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October 28th, 2016

Australia Recollections

I grew up in Sydney Australia in the 1960s when corporal punishment of children at home was already starting to go out of fashion, though I suspect it was still the norm. I had been smacked when younger, on the legs, sometimes with a stick, but nothing as formal as a spanking over the knee.

However, I did receive a spanking at primary school in 1960, when I was 8, being drawn over the male teacher’s lap and given several sharp whacks with a pair of wooden rulers on my short pants. He held the rulers in his fingers only and sort of played paddy-whack on our little bottoms. It was only light but it stung. I remember sitting there afterwards thinking my face was probably as red as my bum felt.

I remember also seeing another boy spanked maybe a few weeks before I got mine, and being fascinated by the sight of his bottom, with his pants stretched, being hit with the rulers. The funny thing is that these memories lay dormant for 50 years, and suddenly sprang into my mind about 5 years ago, previously completely forgotten. I remember thinking how strange it was that I had not remembered it before, as I have had a lifelong fascination with CP and bottoms.
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