I was fourteen years old and my parents considered me old enough to be left at home without the need for a babysitter. My sister was out at a friend’s house, and my best friend Sarah was round at ours. Mum and Dad were going out to a concert in town and we would have the house to ourselves. It was a Friday, so we had no school in the morning, and Sarah was allowed to stay until ten o’clock.

At around half past six, as my parents were leaving the house, Mum kissed me goodbye and told me to be good. I had no intention of being good and as you will hear, I wasn’t. As soon as they had driven off, I fetched two glasses from the kitchen and took the bottle of vodka out of the drinks cabinet.

I had a plan which involved Sarah and I helping ourselves to as much of the clear spirit as we could manage, and then topping the bottle up with water to its original level. We intended to get merry and spend the evening dancing around the living room. As I was pouring our drinks, Sarah produced a packet of ten cigarettes and a box of matches from her pocket. She handed me one as I passed her a glass and after I lit it we sat there, vodka in one hand, fag in the other, giggling with the joy and excitement that can only be felt by teenage best friends being secretly naughty together.

The front door opened.

“I forgot the tickets,” Mum said, before stopping in her tracks when she saw the two of us, caught red-handed. She stormed across the room, snatched the cigarettes out of our hands and stubbed them out in the ash tray. She took my glass of vodka and gulped it down in one, then repeated the move with Sarah’s glass. She put the bottle back in the cabinet. She still had not said anything. She walked swiftly back to where we were sitting, pulled me off the sofa, pulled up my skirt and gave me a flurry of slaps on my bottom and the back of my thighs, then did the same to Sarah.

“Give me the cigarettes,” she said, and Sarah dutifully handed over the packet which my mum put in her handbag.

“I think you had better go home, Sarah. And as for you, I’ll deal with you when I get home.”

She picked up her tickets which she had left on the fireplace and left, ushering Sarah out of the door on her way. She then briefly stuck her head back through the door and told me that if I had any homework to do this weekend it would be a good idea to do it now while I could still sit down.

I sat there alone feeling wretched. I was in so much trouble. The smacks she had given me hadn’t hurt that much, but I knew that the ones I would get later would be a different matter. A few minutes later, there was a tap on the window. Sarah had not gone home.

She was not expected home until ten o’clock and my parents were gone again so she had come back now that the coast was clear to make sure I was ok. I was glad she had come back as I did not relish the idea of sitting there alone, watching the clock, knowing that I was going to get a spanking in a few hours. Doing homework was not an option as I would not be able to concentrate knowing that I had an appointment over Dad’s knee later. Even though I could not possibly be in any more trouble than I already was, we didn’t go for the vodka again. Instead, we sat watching TV and talking.

Of course, the main topic of conversation was my mum’s untimely return. Sarah knew, of course, that I often got spanked with a slipper, as she did, and there was no doubt that I would be getting it tonight. Sarah wanted to see it, to compare it with the one her Dad used, so we went to the hall cupboard and I took it out to show her. She examined it with great interest, eventually slapping her thigh with it to test its sting. She flinched.

“Wow, that really hurts,” she said, which of course was not news to me and didn’t comfort me at all. As I was putting it back, she stopped me.

“What’s this?” she said, reaching past me and taking out the cane.

“No, put it back!” I shouted.

I had never been caned, and ever since Mum had bought it I had lived in fear of the day when she would finally decide to use it on me. Days like these when I had been especially naughty and had to wait for my punishment. I certainly did not want to be reminded of its presence.

Sarah ignored me and examined the cane, flexing it and swishing it through the air, fascinated. Again, I implored her to put it away. I didn’t try to take it off her, though. I had never touched it and didn’t intend to. Somewhere in my mind, as long as I never touched it, I could imagine it as some apparition which could not hurt me. I said so to Sarah. She laughed.

“You’ve really never touched it?” she asked. “Aren’t you curious?”

Of course I was curious. I had, on several occasions, stood outside the headmistress’s office imagining I was waiting to be summoned inside for six of the best. I had listened intently to my sister getting thrashed with it on the one occasion it had been used, and wondered how much worse it could be than the slipper. However, I knew that I would not enjoy ever finding out.

“You might find out tonight,” Sarah said cheerfully, swishing it again. “If I was your mum, this is definitely what I would use.”

“Well, you’re not my mum, so put it back,” I said.

I knew she was teasing me and that was quite normal. Getting spanked was a common occurrence for both of us and, although it was always painful and we didn’t enjoy it, we would often joke about it afterwards because it often happened as a direct consequence of us having fun. It became a part of the memories of good times we had shared.

“I can’t believe she never uses it,” Sarah continued. “If my mum had a cane she would definitely use it.”

“Well I can tell her where Mum bought it, if you like. Or maybe I will save up my pocket money and buy her one for Christmas.”

Sarah laughed again and put the cane back in the cupboard. We went back to the living room where we spent the next few hours hanging out together, and it was a nice evening in spite of what I knew was coming. There was, after all, no point in being miserable. I was getting a spanking and there was nothing I could do to prevent it, so I might as well enjoy the time I had left while I wasn’t in any pain.

I was fairly sure I wouldn’t be getting the cane. I never thought Dad would use it as, although he considered it his duty to spank us when we were naughty, the thought of leaving us with welts on our bottoms would be something that appalled him. Mum would have no such qualms, but she really only ever spanked us when Dad was out, straight after school, for example. If he was home, she preferred to let him do the spanking. She, also, considered it to be a father’s duty. As Dad would be with her when she came home I was certain it was he who would administer the spanking, therefore it would be with the slipper.

Some girls in my position might have considered running away. Two girls my age had run away from a nearby town recently and it had been on the local TV news. Their parents had been on the TV, pleading for them to come home.

“You’re not in any trouble,” they had said. “We just want you home safe.”

My mother had scoffed at that. Then she turned to my sister and I and said, “Not in any trouble? If either of you ever tried that you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a month, when I got my hands on you.”

So, you can see that running away wasn’t an option, even if I could have thought of anywhere to go.

When ten o’clock came, Sarah went home, leaving me alone. My sister, Rebecca, was also supposed to be home by ten, but she knew that our parents would still be out until after eleven, so she was able to stay out past her curfew without them knowing. Without Sarah there to distract me, my thoughts kept returning to the slipper, and the next hour was torture.

Eventually, Rebecca came home. She was sucking a polo mint, which I knew meant she had been having exactly the kind of evening that Sarah and I had intended to have. She was in a cheerful mood, and me telling her about my misfortune didn’t dampen it at all, She found my description of Mum walking in on us while we were smoking and drinking hilarious, and teased me about the whacking I was sure to get.

She went up to bed, not wanting our parents to deduce that she had been drinking, and it was not long after that that my parents arrived home. Mum was a bit tipsy, having drunk what she normally would on a night out without taking into account the two very large vodkas she had confiscated from Sarah and me. As a result, I received a very loud and slurred telling-off before she slumped down in an armchair, pouring herself another vodka, while Dad escorted me upstairs via the hall cupboard to carry out her instructions.

Rebecca and I had our own rooms by then, but I knew that she would be listening on the other side of the wall as Dad mercilessly slippered my bare bottom. The walls were thin and you could hear everything, as I knew from the occasions when the slipper was being used in her room. After around thirty stinging smacks, he left me to cry myself to sleep while lying face down on my bed, my bum too tender to touch the mattress.

The next morning, I was sitting on a cushion at the breakfast table with Dad and Rebecca when Mum came back into the kitchen.

“So, Sarah came back after we’d gone?” she said.

“She had to, she wasn’t expected home until ten,” I replied.

I wondered if this revelation would mean that I was in more trouble, but mum just nodded and joined us at the table without another word. From that brief exchange, I knew that she must have just been on the phone to Sarah’s mum. I could picture the scene in her house while I was finishing my breakfast. At this time on a Saturday morning, Sarah would have been sitting on the couch in her pyjamas watching cartoons.

I don’t know whether she would have been expecting my mum to ring up and inform on her, but if so she must have also been expecting what I was sure must now be taking place. She would be laid across her dad’s lap, pyjama bottom’s pulled down, having her bare bum whacked with a slipper, just as I had been a few hours earlier. She was my best friend and I probably ought to be feeling sorry for her, but actually, to my shame, I found the image quite amusing.

After breakfast, I was allowed out to play and went straight round there, where my guess was confirmed to be correct. Sarah had gotten a long hard slippering to match mine, and was unable to sit down on the swings or anywhere else in the park. Some boys offered us a smoke, but for once we declined. We daren’t risk being seen and getting another spanking until our bottoms were a little less tender.