Back in the 1970s and 1980s we used to visit and occasionally go on holiday with another family; my mother went to school with their mother. They had two children a boy (Sam) who was the same age as me and an older daughter (Laura) she was 5 years older. They moved away so we only saw them during holidays or when we visited each other.

During summer holidays I would visit Sam or Sam would visit me, usually spending the 6 weeks at one or other’s houses.

If we misbehaved either my mother or his mother would dish out a punishment; when younger slapped legs or across the seat of our PJs. His sister usually had the same treatment in private as she became older, when younger in front of us both.

I paid little attention to Laura. She was an annoying girl, until one summer she was 16 years old, looked great in jeans, and she would sun bath in the back garden. She now would shut her bedroom door or lock the bathroom door.

The following summer Sam came to my house, so I did not see his sister.

The following year, 1977, silver jubilee year, I visited Sam. His sister was now 18 years old, very grown up, and she spoke to me, her figure and looks had improved, she had just done her A levels, awaiting to go to university to study medicine.

I would stare at her figure in her jeans and hope she would be sun bathing as before, which never happened, or catch her around her house. She was very private, and always wore her dressing gown when downstairs.

Sam and I still received the odd punishment, but now from Sam’s mum it would be a slippering. She wore hard-soled slippers which would be either applied across our underpants or PJ bottoms, although Sam did received it a couple of times with his PJs down after complaining. She would slipper us 13 times our age, unless we complained. Then she added another and another, so Sam received 15 and on the bare, his pale cheeks soon turned pink, then red, as I waiting to receive my 13 of the slipper.

Laura seemed to behave and I thought she was too old to be punished now. She was out most of the time working.

One Saturday afternoon, Sam, myself and several of his friends decided to go on a bike ride. I borrowed an old bike and about 1/2 mile from home the chain on the old bike fell off. We tried to put it back on but could not without removing the back wheel.

Sam said: “Go home and we will meet you at a certain spot.”

I walked home, tried to repair the bike, but failed.

I went into the house. Sam’s mum was somewhere but I did not see her. The phone rang and Sam’s mum answered it. From the conversation, something had happened at the local shop. Everybody knew each other. It was the owner. Laura’s name was mentioned; theft, cigarettes, police.

“I will deal with her myself, when she gets in.” Laura’s mum said.

I went into Sam’s bedroom. About 30 minutes later, Laura came through the front door.

Her mother said: “Get in there NOW.”

“Mum, I can explain.”

“You stole cigarettes.”

“Yes, but, Mr Taylor is not going to call the police.”

“I said I would deal with you myself. I also asked him if he would like to witness me punishing you. He said no. Get up to you bedroom and wait; no excuses.”

Laura, already upset, went into her bedroom. Sam’s bedroom was opposite Laura’s bedroom. I could see Laura on her bed through the crack on Sam’s door.

About 30 minutes later, their mum came up stairs.

“Now, young lady, you are going to be punished. Remove you jeans now.”

“But mum!”

“19 whacks of the slipper. Now!”

I crept out of Sam’s bedroom into the dark landing and could see Laura and her mum. Laura started to remove he jeans, and pulled them off, her long legs now on display, her bottom clad in a white pair of knickers. Her mother moved her bedside stool in front of her bed.

“Remove your knickers now.”

“But mum!”

“20 whacks of the slipper.”

“Not on the bare, please!”




I will pull them down myself.”

Slowly Laura pulled her knickers down & off. I had a full display of her pale white bottom. she knelt on the stool and rested her body on the bed, her knees were parted as she knelt on the stool. I had a perfect view of her bottom. Her mother took her slipper off and started.

“22. Laura, please count.”

The first one cracked down with no reaction but left a red mark.

She counted until 9. Her bottom was now red on both cheeks and her upper legs. She was crying. After 2 more she was told to stand.

‘Only 11,’ I thought.

As Laura stood up, she faced her mother. I had a full view of her front area with a slight covering of pubes on show. I was in a dream world.

After he mother had reminded her why she was being punished, and that Mr Taylor, the shop keep, had not contacted the police, Laura was told to kneel again on the stool and rest her head on the bed. I seemed to have a better view.

“So, another 11. Please count.”

Her bare bottom was already very red. 12, 13 to 20, last two seemed to be heavier, 21, and finally 22.

Her mother turned to the door.

“Sort yourself out. Get into your night clothes.”

I quickly went back into Sam’s room. Their mother went downstairs.

About 30 minutes later, I crept to the foot of the stairs.

“I am home,” I shouted.

Sam’s mum shouted back: “Okay.”

Apart from Laura being in her PJs at 4pm, I said nothing. We later found out what had happened.