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.
August 16, 2015
My name is James Turner and I’m employed as a Fertiliser Trading Director in a medium sized family owned agricultural merchants business in the West Country. I’m currently 46 years old and happily married with three children under the age of 15. My wife and I are happy in all aspects of our marriage but I do have a particular interest in adult corporal punishment. This is somewhat reciprocated by my wife but she unfortunately has a low pain threshold which restricts activities! Overall, though, we have a good and secure life which makes me wonder why I allowed myself almost four years ago to get drawn into a risky situation which could have lead to disaster for all of us. Enough time has now passed for me to relax on these worries and feel confident enough, having changed all of the names and locations involved, to share my experience with a wider audience.
I joined the company that I work for direct from university. We have always had to compete with much bigger firms but we have a loyal set of farmer customers who seem to value the personal touch that we can provide. The business has steadily grown over the years and I have risen through the ranks to be in charge of all the company’s fertiliser trading activities and a place on the main Board. My responsibilities have expanded over time and dealing with farmers can be quite complex and time consuming. The early part of 2010 was particularly difficult and in the autumn of that year I went to my boss and suggested that we take on a graduate trainee to assist me and provide a bit of succession in the business for the future. He agreed and we advertised for applicants.
August 8, 2015
During a number of private discussions, we’ve noticed that a fair proportion of girls who were slippered at school kept it entirely to themselves and never mentioned it even to their best friends. We’re intrigued as to why this should be. Was it simply embarrassment? Shame? The shock of the punishment?
If anyone has a view, especially if you were one of those girls, then please email us your thoughts. Obviously, total confidentiality is assured as with all our contacts.
Please email: email@example.com
August 7, 2015
I am a guy in my mid 50s who was brought up in the 1960s and 70s when corporal punishment was common place and a fairly normal method of dealing with poor behaviour. During my youth my father worked away a lot and my mother was therefore responsible for dealing with my sisters and I on her own for extended periods. Whilst we were not bad children it is fair to say we could be challenging at times, and therefore my mother resorted to what seemed like fairly harsh punishments, but in truth were only ensuring we didn’t stray too far over that fine line between boisterous behaviour and serious trouble. From being around 6 or 7 any bad behaviour would result in me having to bend over the sofa arm whilst mother went to the sideboard and collected one of father’s old leather carpet slippers. When she returned she would pull down my shorts and pants and then give me a series of hard whacks on alternate cheeks of my bare bottom and culminate with about 6 stinging blows across both cheeks. I was then allowed to get up and pull up my pants and shorts and resume my previous activity.
August 2, 2015
One time, when I was about seven, my older cousin Emma, then eleven, earned herself a spanking. In front of my mother and me, my aunt instructed her to get across her lap.
There ensued a teary: “Please, Mommy, can w-we do th-this in my r-room?” but one determined: “No, Emma, we will do it right here,” and my cousin’s hands reached for the hem of her sundress. She raised it and with no further instruction laid herself across my aunt’s lap.
Emma looked over at me, blushing to be sure, but with no trace of resentment that I would be watching. It was almost as if she felt sorry for me having to witness her suffering. Despite our age difference we were very close and loved each other. For my part I remember hoping she could sense my profound sorrow and sympathy and only wanting to be a comfort to her. She forced a little smile at me, as if to tell me it would be okay. Tears clouded my eyes as I nodded toward her and made a silent prayer.
A few seconds later my aunt raised her right hand and brought it down with a resounding smack on the smooth white cotton clad bottom. Twenty-five times that slender, aristocratic hand would rise and fall, smacking the errant bottom soundly, turning it ever darker shades of red. After a half dozen, I observed my cousin begin to sob quietly. At fifteen, Emma’s cries were unmistakable and I felt my heart breaking. Then came my cousin’s dirge of guilt; promising never again to disobey and to be a ‘really good girl’.
July 19, 2015
My name is Kirsty Wilson and I was born in October 1985 in Peterborough into a solidly middle class family. I have a brother who is two years younger than me and we both went to the local schools in the city. My brother’s passion was football and mine were athletics and horses. I am a tall and strong girl with naturally blonde hair and an attractive personality which has never left me short of friends of both sexes. I was well behaved at home and school, with only the occasional chastisement, and never found myself in any serious trouble. I lost my virginity at 17, which was a lot later than most of my friends, and found that experience fabulous. Enjoying sex has come easily to me and, although I am choosy over who I go with, this rapidly became an important part of my life.
However horses were my big passion in my early teenage years. My parents both worked and could afford to buy me a pony which was based at a stables out of town and was within range for cycling. Weekends were often spent at Pony Club events and I would spend evenings and holidays helping at the stables. I was reasonably able academically and I decided to do science subjects for A level to see if I could get into Veterinary School. All my hopes were pinned on this and I had an offer to go to Nottingham conditional on 3 straight A grades. I was predicted to achieve this but when the results came through I had only got one A and two Bs. I was devastated but decided instead to apply for a Veterinary Nursing course to start a year later.
July 7, 2015
I remember my years at primary school in Devon in the 70s and listening to fellow pupils talking about the cane. Both boys and girls were subject to it and on more than one occasion I witnessed a teacher thrash both girls and boys on the bottom in front of the class with a slipper, ruler and a cane. This was done over trousers and skirts but bending over touching toes. There would usually be 4 or 5 strokes at most with the cane or ruler, and possibly double that with a slipper.
The sense of fascination and excitement as the whole class fell silent was amazing. I loved the meaty thwack when the slipper landed or the muffled gun shot sound the cane produced on a jutting bottom. Mostly I remember all pupils taking their punishment fairly stoically, with only the occasionally yelp or grunt, girls especially.
After witnessing all this, I was desperate to try for myself. Being fairly wilful and naughty, it wasn’t long before my bottom was given attention. Over the next few years, I received a bare bottom spanking over a female teacher’s knee after a swimming lesson (this was done in private), several slipperings in front of the class and two final canings before moving up to the local comprehensive.
May 24, 2015
My name is S and I attended school in Glasgow in the 1960s and 1970s. As such it was a fairly common situation to find yourself on the end of the belt for the slightest of misdemeanours.
I have several recollections dating back to almost my first days at school but in this memory I would like to cover some events that happened while attending a residential school. I would be lying if I could remember the exact reason or purpose of the three weeks spent in this school on the Ayrshire coast but I suspect it had something to do with sounding out young catholic boys who might be rich pickings for the priesthood.
It certainly was not a punishment in its own right as most of my year, and subsequently other years, went on this adventure.
I remember it being in springtime but it was very cold. I believe it was 1970 as one of the clearest memories was pre-decimal currency so this would put the group at around 9 to 10 years old. There was one pre-requisite for attending, I later found out, and that was all attendees must not wet beds. I suppose a fairly straight forward and common sense rule.
May 8, 2015
A brief report we received tells us a female student received 3 strokes of the paddle for skipping a Friday night class.
May 8, 2015
I was in the third grade when I first met ping pong paddle discipline. I next received a spanking with that kind of implement four years later. After another two years the ping pong bat style of paddle was replaced by thick wide oak paddles long enough to strike both cheeks.
One day, early one morning, I entered art class to discover a ring of students spanking a girl in PE kit. It was probably an initiation into some club or other. When the girl saw me observing, she ran out in to the hall. Nothing was said by anyone as the rest of the class filed in and the club went out. It was open season on student bodies and all clubs had their own rules for entry.
I think back often to that day, watching her turn with each new smack on her thinly covered bottom to face away from another club member. Often I wonder if she got some satisfaction from it as no doubt did some of the members, especially the middle-aged male teacher.
We had a dress code that required short hair and shaved for boys, dresses and skirts for girls. We mostly complied except for a few sideburns until my sophomore year when a few girls decided to wear tasteful dress pants and shorts that looked like skirts. This led on to the girls wearing jeans like most boys wore.
April 28, 2015
One time we played truant, Mr M gave me 6 strokes of what we called double handers (both hands side by side so one stroke hit both hands) in front of Margaret.
I took 3 before dropping my hands in agony. The other 3 were awful. I was crying and Margaret was shocked.
She reported to Mrs J after lunch in her classroom. Margaret was belted in the corridor, 3 on each hand, hands crossed. She changed hands after each stroke. The noise echoed down the corridor.
Margaret was crying when she came back to class and everyone knew where she had been. She sat with her hands between her thighs for a while; they were shaking. Both our hands were bruised although that was nothing to what my bottom was that night. Mum leathered me. I was 4 months short of my 16th birthday. The next day I could hardly sit.
Margaret got leathered by her dad. Bent over, her short skirt rode up leaving Margaret taking the belt across her panties and tights. She had 2 belt weals across the back of her thighs, and she really flinched when I touched them.
We went off the school premises at lunch time and sat very uncomfortably in a local park while Margaret re-did her lipstick and had a cigarette, then we walked hand in hand back to school.