It was the Sunday before Christmas and I had promised to take Emily, my best friend’s daughter, to see Santa at the local shopping centre. However, there had been a road accident and the traffic was chaotic. We finally got to the car park at 3.45, knowing everything closed at 4.00 pm. We flew through the mall eventually getting to the grotto with just 5 minutes to spare. “Sorry, we are just closing,” the elf on the door said. “Come back tomorrow.” “I can’t because I am working, and Emily has been looking forward to meeting Santa, haven’t you dear?  Oh

I previously told the story of my first slippering, delivered by my father, at the age of ten. The act of recalling that incident naturally made me think of other times I was punished at home. On the first occasion, my brother Felipe was punished with me. Strangely, although we were twins and quite close, we never really discussed it afterwards. It was simply an incident we both wished to leave behind us. Felipe was the next to be slippered, for an incident at school I had nothing to do with. Although I did not witness his thrashing directly, I

I grew up in a family of four in Spain. There were my two parents, my twin brother, Felipe, and me. Felipe and I were born in the mid-1970s, so our childhoods stretched until the nineties, when corporal punishment was less frowned upon than it is nowadays. We were certainly not spared. Until we were ten, we were spanked across the knee of one of our parents, on our bare bottoms. Without knowing how often it happened to others, it’s hard to say if this was a common event, but I’d say we both averaged about six spankings a year.

Auntie Joan, mother of cousins Michael and Sally, was a lovely lady in many ways, but when it came to discipline, she was much like her sister, my mother, strict and swift, firm but fair. I spent many happy days and weeks there as I got on really well with my cousin Mike. There were times of course when boys couldn’t help but be boys, so with carte blanche from Mum, she was able to deal with both of us straight away before any distance crept between offence and consequences, which I suppose was best for all concerned. On the

It was a hot summer’s day during the school holidays. My sister Pat and me were having a day with our cousin Avril and our aunty Gillian in a local country park. All three of us were about the same age, 15 or 16, and we had all taken our bikes to let off some steam, despite the heat that day. Aunty Gillian set up a fold-away picnic table and chairs next to her camper van and sat in its shade reading her latest crime thriller which she seemed to digest with alarming speed. On what must have been our third or fourth

When I was a teenager, probably 16, maybe 17, I was a real brat, getting into bother at the drop of a hat. It really was just a phase, because by 18 I was a totally different person. These events took place in a shopping centre in France when we were on holiday. It had been a very hot and extremely humid couple of days, and tempers were wearing a little thin. As usual, I was being a real little madam, and mum was rapidly running out of patience with me. We had been in a big supermarket shop, and before that we had

I grew up in an Irish Catholic family with two sisters, one a year older and one a year younger. My father was a police officer and mother a stay-at-home mom. My parents were very strict and definitely spanked for serious infractions. We were all spanked, usually by Dad, but Mom had no problem putting us over her knee. Spankings were typically done in our bedroom where we had to wait for Dad. He would come in for a lecture, then he would sit on the bed and we would have to take our pants down and go over his

Two friends spanked in the woods by a dog walker A long time ago, when we were either 8 or 9 years old, Pat (Patricia) and I were very good friends and spent a lot of time playing in the local park or the thick woods that backed onto it. It was the summer school holidays and by mid-August we were running out of things to do. On this especially warm day, we sought relief from the heat in the woods. We both had our wellies on as, although it was almost 30 degrees in the park, a summer storm had passed through the

This happened in Yorkshire in 1962 when I was 13. On my way back from school, I would often cut through an old orchard. I had never seen anyone there although I knew there was an isolated cottage nearby. I was making my way along the path when it was blocked by a big older man who asked me what I was doing on this land. I was a nice, polite middle-class boy and explained that I didn’t realise it belonged to anyone, which was true, but he was really rough with a strong Yorkshire accent and said that wasn’t

I am originally from Uganda, but moved to England with my mother and her then husband, who was with her for about 6 years, when I was aged 9 to 15. He is a rich man, a pastor from England. He was strict man, but easily angered. My first time of feeling his wrath was when I accidently said a swear word. I didn’t know it was a bad word. I was, at a guess, aged 11. My mum was furious with him for slapping me across my face, but he would go on and on about discipline. Lol! My first real