February 21, 2013
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.
December 21, 2014
I suppose the spanking that made the greatest impression on me during my childhood happened when I was around fourteen years old and it didn’t happen to me. In those days, back in the 1970s, there was nothing unusual in being spanked at home or in school. I had the odd smack myself and had seen or heard a few of my friends and schoolmates being punished. Nothing particularly severe although of course I heard stories in the playground about terrible beatings inflicted on other children. It had never been anyone I knew well.
The punishment I am about to describe was not particularly severe either but was memorable for other reasons. My friend, Alison, lived just across the park from me and every day we walked home from school together. We would part at my gate and she would cut across the park and be home less than a minute later.
On this particular Wednesday everything was as usual. It had been a perfectly ordinary school day with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. Walking home, Alison was her normal happy self, laughing and joking and making plans to meet up for a game of football in the park after tea. There was certainly no sign she was apprehensive about going home. She was definitely no quieter than usual and she didn’t dawdle. We reached my house and we said our goodbyes and off she went.
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December 17, 2014
In the 1960s I attended a small boarding school in the West Country from the age of 8. This was run by a husband and wife who were headmaster and matron respectively. The headmaster, a kindly man, was responsible for educational matters and serious disciplinary issues. Matron, who was a very strict disciplinarian, was responsible for the boarders outside of the school day including discipline. Matron punished the boarders with the slipper for the slightest misdemeanour but if she felt the offence was more serious she would send boys to the headmaster. Having been slippered by her on several occasions she eventually sent me to the headmaster at age 11.
Me and another boy were caught pillow fighting after lights out with the other boys providing light with their torches. We were immediately told to strip our beds and remake them in a spare dormitory used for the occasional day boy who boarded temporarily or as an overflow sick bay. It was used sometimes as a punishment.
While we were stripping our beds the rest of the dormitory were slippered for their part.
When she came into the spare dormitory we were told that we would spend one week in that dormitory and would being going to bed immediately after prep with no playtime. She added that we were to see the Headmaster the next morning. We both lay in our beds not speaking to each other for fear of further trouble, thinking about our visit to the Headmaster.
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December 17, 2014
Dick Templemeads is a writer whose fictional stories are featured on our sister website www.overthedesk.com
I am in the middle of writing my next story in the Swishing Sixties series. Although all are works of pure fiction which are based around either major events or hit records from that decade, the next story, while liked to one of the Sixties’ major events, is actually based on an incident which occurred in 1964 when I was 8 years old and in the first year of primary school.
Those involved were all slippered for their part in the melee. Although not involved myself, my bottom only remained unblemished for an hour or so as I was slippered in the next lesson. This was to be the first but by no means last time that I was punished at school with something more severe than the hand spankings I’d already experienced, and would suffer again in the future.
However it is not the matter of slippering that I wish to dwell on now, but that ultimate school punishment, caning ,as the 45th anniversary of my first school caning recently occurred and although I have related this in OTD Memories I have collected some more thoughts on the incident which I’d like to share.
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December 7, 2014
I’ve written about my first caning at school which got me six of the best at the age of 11 and mostly undeserved. I say ‘mostly’ because I did lie when I should have told the truth and if I hadn’t done that I might have avoided being punished at all, and because I was technically guilty of the things I was punished for as well. I just had what I felt then, and I still feel now, was a good explanation as to why I did it. But I lied rather than explain because I was frightened and I felt like I was being treated unfairly.
And I was treated unfairly. People lied to make out that what I had done was much worse than it had been. They deliberately lied. And one of the people who did that was a boy named Larry Silver who I regarded as a friend and somebody who I had spent a lot of my childhood protecting and defending. Trying to do that directly lead to the caning. I felt totally betrayed by Larry. Terribly betrayed.
I was caned in the morning and I spent morning break inside. After returning to my classroom I was in a state and I was allowed to stay inside to try and get myself back under some sort of control. By the time our dinner break came around, a couple of hours later, I was in less of a state, but I was angry about what had happened to me. I was still feeling very uncomfortable as a result of being caned, and I also felt rather embarrassed by it. I think – I’m not sure but I think – I was the first girl caned in my class, though probably not the first one caned in the form and I had sat in class crying like a baby for at least half an hour, if not longer, after coming back.
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November 28, 2014
“Turn around; now bend over the back of the chair.”
“Please, Sir! Please. I didn’t do anything wrong, Sir!”
I’d been on the verge of tears for the last few minutes, but now they were beginning to flow freely. I was terribly frightened of what was about to happen to me, but the worst thing was that I truly did not believe I deserved it.
I was only eleven years old and I had been at my grammar school for about four weeks. It had been made very clear to us from our first day that the cane was used reasonably freely (at my primary school it had been quite rare) and that it was used on girls as well as on boys (at my primary school, girls had never been caned) but that threat had not worried me too much. I was a reasonably well behaved girl so I had never really been in serious trouble at school, and I actually thought it was reasonable that if you were naughty you should expect to be punished. My parents spanked me when they thought they needed to, and I had been spanked a few times at primary school, and been given the ruler once and the slipper once. If I deserved it, I’d accept punishment and I think I would have said that if I had done something bad enough to get the cane then I would expect to get the cane.
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November 26, 2014
A true account kindly passed to us by Megan
It was a spring day in May of 1960 in western North Carolina. The sun was shining and the temperature was in the mid 70s. It was 2:30 PM and the school day was drawing to a close. The bell rang signaling the end of classes and the beginning of activity period.
Activity period was the last 40 minutes of the school day. It was essentially free time with certain limitations. The athletic teams used it to get an early start on after-school practice. Those who wished to get a start on homework assignments could do so in a study hall, or the library. The work-study students could leave early, provided they reported to their jobs. It was also the time of day when “student issues” were dealt with in the office.
I wasn’t surprised when the secretary came on the PA system and began with: “Will the following students report to the office,” and then began reading a list of names. I was surprised to hear my name called, but I got up from my seat in study hall and walked down the hall to the office.
There was a group of about 25 students there, most taking care of routine school business. They left quickly as their business was concluded, and seven of us remained. As we looked at each other it became clear why we were there. The group was the same as the group that had gone to the athletic field after lunch to have a smoke.
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November 24, 2014
My wife was raised in a fairly conservative household. Her mother was not a prude nor was she overly controlling of what Michele was allowed to wear and what she could do for activities, but there were certainly issues with appropriate dress at times and consequences if rules were challenged or violated.
Growing up in Southern California, Michele spent a lot of time in a bikini during the summer. This was fine with her mom as long as she was wearing it appropriately. Mom was not okay with Michele walking around outside of the pool area or beach with just a bikini on.
During the summer Michele, her younger sister and her friends would lay out in the back yard to tan, or go to a friend’s house to swim or go to the beach. So, for most of the summer the girls were in bikinis if the sun was out. If they went to the store, a fast food place, gas station or just some place for a quick errand they would at most throw a T-shirt on. It was mainly for convenience because they didn’t want to get dressed and throw shorts and a shirt on because their bikinis were wet and they didn’t want to get the clothes they were going to wear home wet.
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November 8, 2014
My memory of my punishment was simple in my house. My mother could look at me and I knew that was enough. However my father was another thing. My dad was a caring, kind and funny guy, but he had certain rules; don’t cheek and don’t lie.
Sadly once, when I was about 10 ish, I forgot this and went to sit on the park field with my friends. My cover was that I was having a tea party at my friend Shane’s. I would be home for no later than 7.30.
One thing led to another and I was late, very late.
It’s important to remember my dad spanked me over his knee all the time. He never did it at the time of been naughty, it was always much later because he didn’t want to be angry. But I would often cry a little, of humiliation more than anything, because he would start spanking my clothes but I would end up with a bare bum. It was always a quick thing and always in my bedroom.
Anyway, this night I returned home, full of life. It was about 10.30 pm, 3 hours late. My dad was angry. My neighbours were round; my friend Shane’s dad was there (my parents had rang him) and found out I hadn’t been there. Worse thing was, my mother was worried sick so had called the police. I hadn’t realised the time, and was being clever. My dad asked where I had been, and I said just over the park, but he was upset with me.
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September 28, 2014
After she left Clathy Castle, Julie had a brief career as a model where she encountered another aspect of CP
By Julie Baker
During an exchange of emails between Julie Baker and Kenny Walters involving the publishing of the Clathy Castle account, it became known that Julie had enjoyed a short career as a model in London around the same time as Kenny worked there as a photographer.
While Julie mostly turned down work that had a punishment theme, she did accept a small number of assignments. Further enquiry revealed an interesting story.
My name is Julie Baker and I have already given an account of my time working at Clathy Castle in the mid 1970s when I received a short caning on my bare bottom from my employer (Caning at Clathy Castle). About a year after this incident I left that job and started work as a model. There was one assignment in particular that I’ll tell you about although this day was not one of my proudest moments. I started modelling at the beginning of January 1976. I got a small bedsit in Notting Hill, which was not fashionable in those days, and would report into the Soho offices of the agency each day if I was not on an assignment. The work was a bit slow in the early days and soon I was struggling a bit financially, but I didn’t want to rely on my parents. I had a chat with my boss at the agency and he suggested that one way of earning additional income was to do a bit of nude work. Taking my clothes off is not a particularly big issue for me but I did not want to do anything too extreme. He got me a photo shoot with a men’s magazine that was popular at the time called Mayfair. Their style was quite tasteful and the money was double what I would earn on a normal day.
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September 25, 2014
This is a true memory spanning a half century or so. Not quite your usual submission, it has already been put up on Experience Project. I do not know if this presents a problem for you or them. I have not been as explicit as you might like because it is painful to write about and much of the details have been forgotten.
In my communications with the local child services bureaucrats trying to get therapy for my autistic daughter I had the bright idea of including in the email list of recipients my sister who was a journalist in one of the national newspapers. Since she kept her maiden name and the newspaper name appeared in the email, it could have an effect even without anything being done by my sister. In no time I got a reply from my sister with an obscenity filled letter threatening me never to include her in my personal problems, even implicitly. I saw the chance for some revenge.
My mother was of the old school that never used obscenities and I wondered if she would even know what they meant. I took the opportunity to show her the letter, and I soon discovered her education was broader than I thought. She was hopping mad and called up my older sister and read it out to her. My journalist sister was called for an explanation. My mother explained that I was only trying to get therapy for her granddaughter and how could she write such an obscene letter to anyone.
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