This is the true account from a girl who attended a private girls day school in the early 1960s.

Thursday afternoon; it was a joke, but really maybe a stupid thing to do, pushing Sarah back into the swimming pool as we were walking back to the changing rooms, last out of the pool as usual. And, of course, the PE teacher saw us, and it was detentions for Cathy and me. Surprisingly, we did not have to report to her office after the shower, which was often the case, but not this time.

Having the detention slip in my hand, which required a parent’s signature, guaranteed that I would be lying on my front in bed that night. And, yes, the usual inquest, and the full disclosure at the dinner table with Mum saying that we would be having a little chat when I had finished my homework, causing my brother to snigger in his usual way.

After tea, I finished my homework, and Mum told me to get ready. Getting ready meant putting pyjamas on and waiting for Mum to arrive with her weapon of choice, this time the slipper rather than the strap. The two-tailed strap was for Sunday best, usually.

Then pyjama trousers off, and bend over the chair for up to twelve of the slipper applied slowly and firmly, tears flowing after about six. Then a good look in the mirror to survey the devastation, glad there was no more PE for a week so I wouldn’t have to explain the state of my poor bottom.

Saturday morning detention, and there were five of us; Cathy and me from the fifth year, two from the second year and one from the third year aged roughly thirteen.

The seats were hard, which didn’t help the bruises from Mum’s little chat the other night. We were set our essays and told to get on with them, no talking of course.

It was not a great idea to ignore Miss Robert’s warning about talking while she was out of the room, and of course our names were called on her return and we had to go out to the front of the classroom. Cathy was given a key and told to collect the slipper in the cupboard of Miss Robert’s classroom.

Meanwhile, I was told to remove my skirt and stand with hands on head facing the blackboard. I was mortified at the thought of these junior girls seeing me spanked.

When Cathy returned, it was me first over the front desk, bottom presented to the class for six hard whacks of the slipper. I tried to be brave, but the last two made me yelp, and I couldn’t disguise the fact that I was returning to my desk with tears in my eyes.

Cathy, as usual, took it much better than me, but then she had the chance to cry a little in the corridor while she took the slipper back.

Monday morning; the five detainees were lined up outside the Headmistress’s study to report with detention slips for the final dressing down. The first two girls went in and came out again after a lecture. The third girl, the thirteen-year-old, was in for longer. We had never established why she got a detention, but Cathy’s and my stomach started churning when we heard the distinct sounds of a slipper being applied. The girl came out crying and clutching her punished rear, and we guessed there was a fair chance there were going to be two more sore bottoms in the near future.

This was subsequently confirmed as I could hear the sounds of Cathy getting spanked for the second time in three days. She emerged in tears saying it was hard to take another one. Some consolation for me and my third time.

When, finally, it was my turn, I knocked and entered, knowing my fate. The headmistress asked me if I understood how serious the consequences of my actions could have been, and I said I did. She then said that, as in Cathy’s case, the detention was insufficient punishment for my actions, and said I needed corporal punishment as well as a reminder. At that point, stupidly, I decided to argue, saying I had already been punished three times. Asked to explain, I said I had already had the detention and two spankings. Digging deeper, Mrs Hastings asked me to explain and I told her that Mum had spanked me for getting the detention, and I had talked during the detention, which earned me another spanking.

She identified that the slipper was an appropriate penalty for talking during the detention period, but asked me how my mother had spanked me. I had to tell her that it was also the slipper that Mum gave me, and she managed to tease out of me that it was on my bare bottom. She then let slip that her own daughter would expect the same from her Mum. Her daughter was my age and in the same class.

Then she announced that, despite my previous spankings of the last few days, I was going to get another one, with an extra stroke for trying to argue, and another extra for not obeying the detention rules. Foolishly, I tried to complain again, but soon shut up when she asked me if I had ever had the cane.

I removed my blazer and bent over the desk as instructed. She told me to pull my skirt over my back and then I could feel her fingers pulling the side of my knickers inwards and upwards for a bare cheek spanking of eight whacks with her slipper, including the two extra I had earnt myself.

She was ‘kind’ enough to allow me a couple of minutes to rub, and even gave me a tissue, saying that Mum and Miss Roberts had already done quite a good job so she had gone easy on me (not at all sure about that!).

I left her office in tears, rubbing my poor bottom and promising myself that that would be my last spanking.