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

 

September 21st, 2018

Girls are slippered

I was brought up in Walsall in the West Midlands and I worked my way through our local school from Infants, Juniors and, after failing my eleven plus, to Seniors. This was a real culture shock. A lot of my friends had gone to other schools and I was alone in this strange place with strict male teachers, homework, the strap and slipper for children who broke the lots of unwritten rules in the classrooms.

Girls sat one side of the room and boys the other, with the brightest at the front and less bright children at the rear. There was little interaction between boys and girls, with girls having their own playground and school entrance.

Punishments were frequent, with boys being hauled to the front of the room for the slipper or, for more serious punishments, sent to the headmaster for the strap. Girls, however, were treated differently. They were given lines to write out and, very occasionally, they were sent with a note to the senior mistress, Mrs H, only to return after twenty minutes with a red face. They then sat quietly for the rest of the day.

We boys were never able to find out what had happened to them. Boys questioned sisters, but all that came back was that girls just got lines.
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September 7th, 2018

Childhood spanking

I was brought up in a small town on the west coast of Scotland. In 1966, at the age of 11, I enjoyed a fairly normal if strict childhood. The usual punishment was loss of freedom, with spanking, or smacking as it was known, reserved as the ultimate sanction.

There were about four occasions on which I was spanked. This story is about the most memorable.

That day I had done something wrong and so I was told that I wasn’t allowed out. This was terrible as I knew my friend, let’s calls him Bill, was going to call. I waited upstairs, watching from my window, to try and meet him before he pressed the front door bell, thereby alerting my parents, who would have told him to come back tomorrow.

Sure enough, I spotted Bill wandering down the street. The time was around 7.45. Normally, I would have been allowed out until 9.00. I rushed down, stopped Bill ringing the doorbell and before I could explain Bill showed me a half-crown (about 12.5 pence Sterling) which he had been given by his gran.

His plan was to go to the local cafe and there buy two (one each!) ice cream floats which was a frothy combination of ice cream and Coca-Cola. I then explained that I was not allowed out. Bill said this was not a problem as we would be back before it was noticed that I had gone.
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September 2nd, 2018

A boy caned in the lower sixth form

I went to an all boys grammar school in West Yorkshire in the 1970s. My journey through the first five years was pretty uneventful. I had my good and favourite subjects, and my not so favourite subjects. I avoided any serious trouble and, although corporal punishment was standard for some offences, my own experiences were limited to being smacked in front of the class twice in the first form and one slippering from the gym teacher in the fifth form. It was a given that I was going to continue my education into the sixth form and my choice of A levels would have been Maths, French and Physics. That mix of sciences and arts was apparently going to make scheduling difficult, and also my father thought Chemistry was going to be a better choice than French. Although I had no real interest in chemistry, I was probably going to pass my O level so bowed to the pressure to take it at A level as well.

As it turned out, my sixth form chemistry teacher, Mrs Bradley, was also to be my form mistress for the next two years. It wasn’t long into the first term when she asked me to stay behind after class. She was less than impressed with my homework and asked me to repeat it and hand it in again the following day, which I duly, but reluctantly, did. A few weeks later, I was in her bad books again. During the course of a lesson she asked me a question which I was unable to answer. This was quickly followed by a second question which I was also unable to answer, my embarrassment causing some amusement to the rest of the class. That only served to further her annoyance and I was duly sent to stand outside in the corridor. As the rest of the class filed out at the end of the lesson, I was called back in and asked if there was any particular reason I was wasting my own time and hers. It was one of those questions that didn’t have a worthwhile answer so I offered what was perhaps a fairly unconvincing apology. Nevertheless, it seemed to have been accepted and I left thinking that was the end of the matter.
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August 14th, 2018

Seeking a re-enactment of a school experience

I have previously written about an event in the 1970s that I believe triggered my long term interest in corporal punishment. As a young girl, I felt very unusual, alone and somewhat ashamed of the warm feelings these thoughts aroused. I went to an all-girl, independent senior school that did retain corporal punishment, but it was almost never used, and I was never on the receiving end.

My best friend at school had a younger brother, and one day I recall her telling me how they had both been in the dog house at home because he had been caned at school, and how unfair that was from her perspective. My interest of course peaked, and I managed wrangle an invitation to stay with her after school that evening. When her brother appeared, we both started to tease him about his caning, “bet you cried” etc. I asked him how many strokes he had been given. He said four, to which we both replied: “Don’t believe you.”

This went on for some time until we said he needed to show us. He was having none of it until my friend volunteered that I would show him my boobs! I was stunned as, whilst I was ahead of my year with respect to developing, I was very self-conscious of the size of my chest. However, he turned around, had his trousers and pants pulled down in a flash and we could indeed see the outline of four strokes, but they were now black and purple with bruising. They looked very sore and angry, but he insisted it didn’t hurt that much. He had been caned over his trousers, bending over, so I asked him to show us how far he had to bend over.
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August 13th, 2018

Two schoolgirls caned

I hope my recollection encourages others like me to also share their experiences. Whilst corporal punishment in schools was widespread during my school days, I don’t believe my life-time interest, nor the event that triggered this, was. This fascination has been a dark secret which only recently I was able to explore more fully.

I was privately educated in the South East of England during the mid 1970s and early 1980s, in a mixed junior school and then an all-girls senior school. It was at my local independent junior school that I first sensed a thrill witnessing others being punished, and particularly the last two years during which we had quite strict teachers. The school did pride itself in getting all of its pupils in to their desired public schools, so didn’t tolerate laziness or poor behaviour.

None of the punishments seemed unusual to us at the time, and indeed, were very similar to what we had heard about in other schools that friends or family attended.

In my final year at junior school, we had Miss D as our principal teacher. She was probably in her late twenties, single, but got engaged just before we left, was quite intense, with piercing eyes, rarely smiled, always caked in make-up with brightly painted nails and tottered around in high shoes to compensate for her lack of height.
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July 25th, 2018

A first caning by choice

I had attended a fairly strict grammar school in the early 1970s where the cane was used on occasions. Somehow I managed to avoid getting it, but some of my friends were caned and I saw evidence in the changing rooms after PE or swimming and frankly it aroused feelings of both fear and jealousy, and I know I was not alone. Like many boys the cane and the very thought of receiving it held us in awe. However, after leaving the sixth form in 1975 I definitely had a sense of regret that I had never paid a visit to the headmaster’s study for a swishing. It must have been bravado as I am sure if I had stood outside his door I would have been quaking in my shoes.

That long summer I turned 19 while I waited to go to university. My friends were mostly away on their holidays so I decided to go on a long cycle ride to the coast. I packed my panniers and had some cash, but had not booked anywhere to stay or planned a detailed route. I would stay in a B&B if there was one available or even sleep under the stars if the weather was fine.
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July 23rd, 2018

Stealing underwear from a next door neighbour

I was about 17, lived at home, and was on my day off. I was asked to keep an eye out for the weather as rain was in the forecast.

Our next door neighbour had her washing out and I noticed a few pairs of knickers on the line. There were a variety of colours; white, black, dark blue and a cherry red. I checked nobody was about, hopped over the fence and stole the red knickers.

About 20 minutes later, the front door bell rang. It was our next door neighbour, Sally. In her hand was a photograph from one of those instant cameras. It had me caught removing her knickers from the line. She asked if my mother was in. Of course, she was at work dad had long disappeared from the home.

I replied: “No, and please don’t inform my mother.”

Sally said: “Ok, no problems, but we need to talk about this morning’s incident.” She told me to go next door with her to have a serious talk.

Sally lived with her mother who was out visiting family in Wales on a short holiday.

I followed Sally and was very scared, but she said to sit down in the kitchen while she made us both a cup of tea. Then she sat down on the other side of the kitchen table and started folding the clothes from the washing basket.
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June 23rd, 2018

My Day as a 1950’s English Schoolgirl

A woman satisfies her longing to be disciplined for misconduct at school, many years before.

The second of May was a big day for me, on which I embarked with rather mingled feelings. I had arrived in town late in the evening of 30th April, not without having experienced a few surprises on the way, such as having a slightly exasperated bus driver inform me that most of the coins I still had in my purse from my last visit to the country several years ago were now useless. Fortunately, the notes I had obtained through a friend of my partner’s, who works at a bank, were all brand new, so no worries there.

The hotel I had booked at the recommendation of the gentleman with whom I had arranged for a role-play session was easily the nicest place I have ever stayed at. It had a truly unique atmosphere to it, and I instantly felt at home.

May Day, I had kept clear for crashing after the flight and, amazingly enough, the sun was shining throughout the day, allowing for long walks around town and through the pastures of its outskirts, which were full of life with a great many new-born lambs hobbling about, bleating at the top of their tiny treble voices. Whenever I felt my heart sink as my thoughts strayed to the event planned for the next day, I said to myself that even if the whole project was to end in a tragedy, I would always have a very fond memory of this wonderful day out in the sun, of the immensely green spring meadows, and of the sight and sound of those heart-warming little lambs.
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June 16th, 2018

A girl and her unofficial stepfather sort things out

I was fourteen goin on twenty, and I had already been in trouble a bunch of times. This time I came real close to being arrested, but the sheriff knew my mom, and he brought me back home. It was a bit more serious this time. There was property damage. I wasn’t the one who did it, but I was there with the ones who were responsible, and if it went to court, I might have to share the blame along with the others. I had already been told to stay away from that bunch. Mom said they were nothing but trouble, and she was at her wits end with me.

My dad had taken off and left mom a few years ago. Her and Mr Ned had only been seein each other for a short while since she finally got a divorce. She really liked it when he would come over to see us. Mr Ned was a bit scary till you got to know him. He was a big rough lookin outdoorsy kinda guy, nothing like my dad. I guessed him to be about fifty. He was a bit older than mom, and he seemed nice most of the time, at least he did unless you got on his bad side. His own kids were grown up, and had moved away. One went to Alabama, and the other was out west somewhere in Colorado.  I heard mom say that he was really strict with them. She said they all turned out just fine though.
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June 2nd, 2018

Girl strapped in class

After giving my boyfriend, Garry, a quick kiss at the school main door, he then hurried on to the PE block. It was nearly twenty to ten. The first period finished at ten. I headed to the girls toilet. I took my make-up bag out and redid my lipstick and eyes, then took my cigarettes out and lit one. I took all my rings off and put them in my school bag. Mrs Logan the music teacher would probably strap me for being late.

I lifted my skirt up and pulled my tights right up. I took three big puffs of my cigarette and flushed it down the toilet, then hurried to the music room. When I reached the door it was five to ten. I knocked, then entered. The class looked up at me. Mrs Logan was sitting at the piano.

“Ah, Margaret, glad to see you could honour us with your presence. What’s your excuse for turning up with five minutes of the period left?”

“I slept in, miss,” I said.

“You slept in yet you still had time to apply your make up flawlessly?” Mrs Logan said, getting up from the piano.

She went across to her desk, opened the drawer and took out a long brown strap. She straightened it.
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