I remember a somewhat painful experience I had with mum’s hand and slipper when I was a somewhat obnoxious teenager. The weather was hot so I had shorts on and I had been out with friends. Unfortunately, I lost track of the time and came home late, much to mum’s displeasure. I didn’t help matters by showing typical teen ‘attitude’ and mouthing-off to mum when she started to tell me off.

I had been pushing the envelope quite a bit and really pushed it too far that time. She grabbed me by the ear and led me into the living room to a high chair she used for spanking daughters who had displeased her. Amid my cries and pleas, the momentum propelled me over her knee. I can remember dad looking over his paper as his errant daughter’s bottom appeared high over his wife’s knee. My shorts and underwear soon disappeared and mum started with a good hand spanking, which soon switched to the slipper unfortunately she was wearing. All this was, of course, to my howls and yells and pleas which were unavailing.

When mum finished she was quite out of breath, but I managed to do a marvellous dance round the room holding my sizzling behind before being sent to the corner. Dad glanced at my bright red bum and commented to mum who was getting her breath back, “I think she really needed that. And so did you!”

WW