So here in Europe where we live, schools have a parent/teacher conference once every half year where parents can come and meet up with their child’s teachers and hear how things are in school, how their child is doing and behaving. Yesterday, I was at one regarding my 10 year old daughter and things were fine. She did well in school and behaved well most times, but nothing that I needed to address by give her a spanking or other discipline. But the conference reminded me about something that happened when I was 11. My mom and dad were talking

A little background: I grew up in the 1980s and 90s. I lived in a small factory town in Pennsylvania. Spankings were still common then, at least for working class kids like me. Most of my friends growing up were spanked at some time or another, and the few who weren’t seemed a bit strange to the rest of us. This story takes place when I was 12 years old and in 7th grade. Spanking was the main form of discipline in my family, but I was usually a good girl. Up to this point in my life, I had

Growing up, my parents were and still are Christians, and believed in spanking for misbehaving. This happened when I was 8 years old. We had been on a week long church camp and when we got home my dad asked me to help him unload the car, which I did. One of the things I carried in was something for the kitchen. When I entered the kitchen I accidentally knocked over a glass bowl that ended up smashed on the floor. Mom sent me to my room and, 5 minutes after, dad entered and started scolding me for not doing

The date was Sunday, November 21, 1961, and I remember it well. This was the day I received the most swats (80) in one session and I enjoyed it immensely on one hand, yet on the other hand I became a bit scared when my love for being paddled was almost discovered. It was also my first over-the-desk session. 80 swats sounds like a lot, but he did not hit us hard. His main goal was to make our butts sting and to break our will. I was in the afternoon church service and the priest, Bishop McK, was giving

It was about two weeks since my last spanking from Bishop M. It was the latter part of November 1957 and I soon would be feeling the heat again. I remember the teachers were still talking about the recent launch of the Sputnik 2 that had a dog in it. During lunch period, I was sitting with my fellow 4th grade Cathy and two third graders, Donna and Betty.  We were talking about the events that led up to the assassination of our founder and first modern day prophet, J Smith. Him and his brother, H, were killed on June 27 1844

Several of the girls on the estate where I lived were keen on playing football. Our parents all thought we should play it in the park at the end of the street but whenever we did, boys would come and join in uninvited and spoil the game by keeping the ball away from us, so we preferred to gather in someone’s garden. As you can imagine, the location had to change every time we got banned from a garden, such as at our house when Mum saw the ball hit the kitchen window. Luckily, it didn’t break or I would

This was the first of only two times I misbehaved on purpose in order to get a spanking. It was February of 1961 and I had just turned 13. I found myself thinking about paddling quite often. On this particular day, I was really craving to be paddled, but I knew that you just don’t get it on demand. I remember the mental conflict I had within myself because I did not realize that this desire was as common as it was. I really thought something was wrong with me. It was around 4:30 on a Friday and I was

It was the first week in May 1957, just three weeks from the end of the school year, and everyone was looking forward to the summer break. Unlike ‘normal’ kids who stayed at individual homes during the summer, we still remained here when the school year was over because this was our home too. I was sitting in class waiting for the day’s final bell to ring. At 3:00 it rang, and we quickly headed to our living quarters to change into play clothes so we could go outside. On Fridays, we were allowed to play outside until 5:15, and

It was around the ages of 9 or 10 that I began to feel strange feelings. In the cult environment I was raised in, you had no one to talk to or ask about these sensations. As I have read elsewhere, we were groomed for this and I have zero doubt ‘the bishop’ enjoyed spanking us. Instead of hitting us real hard for a few times, he would give us many, many light whacks, something he sometimes called a ‘slow roasting’ or a ‘bottom warming’. My parents immigrated from Germany in 1957. I was born in 1963 and in 1966 my parents were

Up until I fled the compound in 1976, I was part of a religious cult where you were often married off to a ‘bishop’ by the time you were 15. We were in a compound located in Hillsdale, Arizona. I was born in 1948 and spent the next 28 years there. Many reports have been released regarding the perversion of the church leaders in regards to punishment. I have written some accounts of my encounters with being spanked and how in some strange way, I came to like it some. It was approximately two months after my first night session when I would