The spanking I relate took place in Lancashire, England, in the spring of 1965. Even though it is now almost 51 years ago it is burned into my memory, perhaps more than any other spanking I received.
I had just turned 11 years old and was in my final year of junior school. This was a very important year; I would soon be sitting my 11 plus exam which would decide if I was to go to the Grammar School or the Secondary Modern. My parents wanted the best for me and were keen that I work hard, pass the 11 plus and get into the Grammar School. I was a little too confident in my ability and was not giving my best efforts. It was a bad time to get lazy. This was reflected in my spring report card, my last before I would sit the 11 plus.
On the fateful day I was given the report card in a sealed envelope to take home. I didn’t think too much of it as my report cards were normally good and, reflecting my general over confidence at the time, I did not fear for a second that the contents would be sufficient to get me spanked. On arriving home I gave the envelope to my Mum. I had a drink and a snack as usual while she opened and read it. As I sat at the kitchen table my Mum suddenly confronted me with its contents. It said that I had become increasingly lazy and inattentive towards my work and my lack of effort meant that I was in danger of failing the 11 plus. I was shocked and stuttered back something about the report not being right. My Mum said something like I should tell the truth now before I got into more trouble than I was already in, so I admitted that I hadn’t been working as hard as I should have. Mum said that she was going to discuss with Dad what to do with me and that I was to go to my room and wait for him to come home from work.
I obeyed Mum’s order and trooped upstairs to my room to contemplate my fate. Sitting on my bed, I felt an increasing sense of dread as it seemed certain that I would be getting punished; the only question was how bad it was going to be. To put this into context, corporal punishment was very common in the UK at the time and used in almost all families. My parents were kind and loving, but very much firm but fair when it came to discipline. In short, although I was being brought up in a happy loving household, I was no stranger to having my bum smacked when I was naughty and from time to time getting bare bum over the knee spankings if I was really naughty. Would I get a smacked bum and be told to buck my ideas up or would I be in for a proper spanking, maybe with the slipper? I didn’t know as I had never been in trouble for this before.
A little over an hour later I heard Dad’s car pull up the driveway. At this point I did something I had never done before and crept out of my room to the top of the stairs. From there I could hear the conversation between Mum and Dad about my report card. Just after Dad came in the house, Mum told him what the card said. They both agreed that it wasn’t like me at all to be lazy in school and they needed to make sure I shaped up fast.
It was at this point that I remember Mum’s words clearly. She said: “The boy needs a good spanking and it would do him most good if you gave him it. I’ve given him his last couple and it has been a while since he had one off you.”
It was true, I hadn’t been spanked by Dad since the previous year. Dad then said: “Should I give him my hand or the slipper?”
Mum replied: “The slipper, and give it to him good with his pants down and over your knee, he needs to really feel this one.”
Dad said: “You’re right, it needs the slipper on his bare bum to make sure he shapes up,” then he said something about needing five minutes to get cleaned up, then they should call me down.
At this point, knowing my fate was already decided, I crept back to my room. I knew I only had a few minutes and I felt scared, it was as bad as it could be, I wasn’t going to get away with a few smacks on my bum, I was facing a proper bare bum slipper spanking over Dad’s knee and it was going to hurt. The slipper in question was a large leather soled men’s carpet slipper. It was never worn, just kept specifically for smacking my bum when I had been particularly naughty. I knew it packed quite a sting, especially when my bum was bare.
After five minutes that seemed to pass in five seconds my Mum shouted for me to come downstairs to the living room. I was still in my school uniform but had taken my blazer and tie off, so was just wearing a white shirt, grey knee length shorts and grey knee socks. I felt like a condemned prisoner knowing my sentence was already decided as I walked into the living room. Mum and Dad were stood waiting for me. There was a lengthy telling off but all I could really think about was the spanking I knew was awaiting me. Finally Dad said that he and Mum had decided that I was going to get the slipper and Mum got it from the dresser drawer and passed it to Dad.
The command from Dad then came. “Take off your shorts and your pants.”
I quickly took my shorts off but then found myself hesitating when it came to removing my underpants. Dad was now sat on a chair in the middle of the room and Mum was stood behind him with her arms folded. They both looked so severe and I felt frozen, a sharp “hurry up” from Dad snapped me back into the room and I hurried to get my pants off as quickly as I could.
The next command came. “Come here and get over my knee.”
I took the few steps over to Dad; at this point I was wearing only my shirt and socks, with my modesty slightly protected by my shirt tails. I bent myself over Dad’s knee who moved me forward a little and pulled my shirt tails right up so my bum was fully exposed. With his left hand he gripped me round my hip, holding me in place, while he held the slipper in his right hand and briefly rested it on my bum. There can be few things more humbling than being helpless over a parental knee with a bare bum on display knowing a painful punishment is about to begin.
I already felt close to tears when Mum said: “We take your schooling very seriously and we cannot tolerate laziness and lack of effort. That is why we have to punish you like this.”
Dad then asked me if there was anything I wanted to say. All I could manage was: “I’m sorry,” then Dad said: “Good, your punishment starts now.”
The slipper was lifted up then smacked quickly down onto my bum, the sting was incredible right away. I began to cry as Dad carried on smacking my bum slowly and methodically. The sting was growing and growing with each smack and felt more and more unbearable. At first I tried to count the smacks but at about 15 I lost count as it was impossible to think, the only thing was the stinging pain which increased with each smack of the slipper. My bum felt like it was on fire. I didn’t know how many smacks I’d had or how many more Dad was going to give me. Frankly I would have given anything for it to stop as I cried and cried but I stayed still over Dad’s knee and did my best to bear it as the spanking continued.
Dad’s smacks were hard and given with a pause of a few seconds between each smack. They seemed to follow a pattern where Dad would smack the right side of my bum, the left side and then the centre. After I don’t know how many smacks, certainly more than I’d ever had when spanked before, finally the next one didn’t come.
I’d almost forgotten Mum was there as I was spanked, but she asked me: “Are you going to work hard and do your best from now on?”
Through the tears I said: “Yes Mum.”
She then said: “Six more smacks to remind you what will happen again if you don’t.”
My heart sank but at least I knew the end was near. Right away the slipper smacked down onto my bum and the sting grew again. This time I was able to count the remaining smacks as Dad went right, left, centre, two times making the six extra smacks. About 10 seconds after the last smack Dad said for me to get up and helped me up from over his knee. I was ordered to pick my underpants and shorts up, go to my room and stay there until I was told to come down.
Once in my room I checked my bum in the mirror and saw it was a deep vivid red colour. I am fair skinned and it never took much of a spanking to mark me but I had never seen my bum that colour before nor had it ever been so sore. I lay on my bed crying and rubbed my bum for a while. After an hour or so Mum came upstairs into my room and said I could come downstairs for my dinner. She said she knew it had been a very hard spanking but it had to be done as my schooling was too important. She gave me a hug and a kiss and we went downstairs.
Looking back, it was quite a spanking I got, but it was deserved. I passed my 11 plus and eventually became the first person in my family to go to university. If I had failed and not gone to Grammer School I almost certainly would not have done. Without the spanking I would have continued to slack and may not have passed.