I am a very submissive woman and have been receiving corporal punishment right from being a little girl. My mum would hand spank me for normal misdemeanours and it would always be across her knee on the bare bottom.  For more serious matters my dad would deal with me and that meant the slipper or belt over my bed. I would cry for ages as the pain was so intense, not to mention the extreme embarrassment of having to pull my panties down in front of him. The most humiliating time was when I was 17. A friend and I met up

I was born in 1969, in the era of school corporal punishment and Beano comics featuring a caning at the end of every story. However, home corporal punishment was also still very popular. I wasn’t a badly behaved girl by any measure, and I only received the odd smack now and again, never anything more. That was until I was 12, and got my one and only detention at school. Latin was always a struggle for me. I never understood why I had to learn it, or what use it would be for me, but I did try my hardest.

I was 21 when I first came into contact with the spanking world. I was living at home with my parents and it was actually my mum’s magazine – just a normal women’s weekly one. However it had a feature on couples who enjoyed spanking. I was young and naive and had no knowledge of this kind of thing, but it ignited very strong feelings within me even though I tried to put these to the back of my mind. A year later and I had finished my degree, got a job and moved into my first flat. I remember the

From quite an early age I was given the odd slap on my bottom or legs if I misbehaved, but it was at the age of eleven when I received my first real spanking. By that, I mean an over the knee spanking. This happened some seventeen years ago when corporal punishment was more acceptable than the present day. On several occasions I had rung the neighbours’ door chime on the way home from school. I had not done it out of wanting to be a pest or being naughty, I just loved the sound of the chime. It was

I suppose the spanking that made the greatest impression on me during my childhood happened when I was around fourteen years old and it didn’t happen to me. In those days, back in the 1970s, there was nothing unusual in being spanked at home or in school. I had the odd smack myself and had seen or heard a few of my friends and schoolmates being punished. Nothing particularly severe although of course I heard stories in the playground about terrible beatings inflicted on other children. It had never been anyone I knew well. The punishment I am about to

My wife was raised in a fairly conservative household. Her mother was not a prude nor was she overly controlling of what Michele was allowed to wear and what she could do for activities, but there were certainly issues with appropriate dress at times and consequences if rules were challenged or violated. Growing up in Southern California, Michele spent a lot of time in a bikini during the summer. This was fine with her mom as long as she was wearing it appropriately. Mom was not okay with Michele walking around outside of the pool area or beach with just a

My memory of my punishment was simple in my house. My mother could look at me and I knew that was enough. However my father was another thing. My dad was a caring, kind and funny guy, but he had certain rules; don’t cheek and don’t lie. Sadly once, when I was about 10 ish, I forgot this and went to sit on the park field with my friends. My cover was that I was having a tea party at my friend Shane’s. I would be home for no later than 7.30. One thing led to another and I was

After she left Clathy Castle, Julie had a brief career as a model where she encountered another aspect of CP  By Julie Baker During an exchange of emails between Julie Baker and Kenny Walters involving the publishing of the Clathy Castle account, it became known that Julie had enjoyed a short career as a model in London around the same time as Kenny worked there as a photographer. While Julie mostly turned down work that had a punishment theme, she did accept a small number of assignments. Further enquiry revealed an interesting story.   Julie writes:   My name is

This is a true memory spanning a half century or so. Not quite your usual submission, it has already been put up on Experience Project. I do not know if this presents a problem for you or them. I have not been as explicit as you might like because it is painful to write about and much of the details have been forgotten. In my communications with the local child services bureaucrats trying to get therapy for my autistic daughter I had the bright idea of including in the email list of recipients my sister who was a journalist in

My name is Julie Baker and I was born in Edinburgh in March 1956 and subsequently brought up in the same city. My father is Scottish and was a well known GP in Edinburgh before he retired. My mother is Swedish and came to the UK in the 1950s to train to be a nurse. I was an only child and I benefited from a solidly middle class upbringing and the stability provided by two loving parents. From the age of 12 my parents sent me to a private day school for girls in Edinburgh. I was not academic but