I guess I am one of the older readers of this site having been born in 1946, but I look forward to another reader disproving me. I am a sprightly pensioner who remains active and still enjoys mild spankings from my Edward. I also continue to be fascinated by space exploration, having lived through the exciting exploits of Sputnik, the Apollo missions, the first man on the moon, the international space station, Mars exploration and now the Chinese landing on the dark side of the moon. However, I thought I would comment on the realities of corporal punishment as I have lots of experience, some of which matches the fictional stories made by contributors to the sister fiction website.
I was born in India just nine months after my father came back from the war in Burma and elsewhere in SE Asia. He had a very good job as the British Raj came to an end, but had the good fortune to be asked to stay on for some years. We loved India and the lovely people but his job meant that he was away often and for prolonged periods. When I was a teenager, my mother would accompany him on his trips and they engaged a Governess (Miss D) to keep a watchful eye on me. I probably needed that as I was a tomboy and enjoyed going around the district with friends.
School was nearby and fun but very strict. The slipper was used, and the cane. I was slippered a number of times. Yes, I was caned. I had turned 18 by the time I was caned. The cane hurt and I was well marked each time but it dealt with the matter quickly.
The first occasion was for a play-fight that got out of hand and my friend and I were told in no uncertain terms that “young ladies never fight”. The following stinging six strokes of the cane across my bottom emphasised that message. I had quite a lot of explaining to do to Miss D, my governess, at bathtime that evening.
The second occasion, not long after, was the consequence of a tantrum in a game of hockey after another player kept riling me. This other girl and I were sent to the Principal straight from the playing field. After a brief wait outside her study, with hockey sticks in hand, we were ushered in. The Principal expressed her deep displeasure and stood. We were told to put our hockey sticks to one side. She drew a cane from her cupboard and informed us that she had no hesitation in deciding to cane both of us and it would be six of the best. It was a good length with the traditional curved handle.
The other girl was told to bend over and her skirt was raised. I watched and counted the strokes; six in all. The sound of the swishing cane and the sound when it met her rounded, knickered bottom were magical. To witness another girl’s caning was super. She deserved it for annoying me and I was not that bothered that I was to be caned as well. I was then told to assume the position. I bent over and waited. My skirt was folded up and the cane tapped my lower cheeks. Six strokes were given. They were applied very firmly indeed to my amply padded lower bottom area. Again the sound was amazing, but this time they hurt, but I was fascinated by corporal punishment.
We left the room in silence, holding a hockey stick in one hand and rubbing our sore bottoms with the other. We went back to the sports pavilion where the other players were changing. They were eager to know what had happened as it was a new sports mistress who had sent us the Principal and she had sent a clear warning to us all. We undressed and joined our friends in the showers and they quickly saw the results of our visit. Our stripes were inspected and, while drying a few minutes later, the new sports mistress even commented on them. My bottom had six raised weals and did they hurt!
My Governess was a fine lady, an English lady who became a real friend and shared our passion for India. She was also strict and had a free rein in dealing with me. Sometimes I would accompany my parents on shorter trips, so visited Delhi, Amritsar, the Khyber Pass and other marvellous places on the sub-continent. I even saw Everest from a distance.
Miss D, the Governess, encouraged my sketching and water-colour painting ability, and this was put to good use when travelling. When my parents were away she attended to meals, ensured I studied, made sure the laundry was done and dealt with discipline. She had a heavy hairbrush and used it to good effect on my bottom. She also used a leather-soled slipper. Lying across her lap on her thighs I found quite exciting even though the hairbrush or slipper stung and marked me.
Later she acquired a cane. This occurred after my second caning (the hockey incident) and she called me to her rooms at one side of our extensive bungalow. It was there on her table; the message was clear and being aged 18 made no difference. It was about three feet long with the traditional curved handle and supple, and remarkably heavy for quite a thin rod.
For various misdemeanours (remember, I was a tomboy who enjoyed the rough and tumble of the district) I might get a couple of strokes or perhaps three. There were times when six of the best was given. Canings hurt. I marked well with red stripes. My friends and I referred to the marks of the cane as ‘tiger stripes’. Thick knickers did not help. The first time she caned me was for insolence. She took me to her rooms and picked up the cane. I was told to bend over. Three well placed strokes were given across my pants. My guess that the cane would hurt was correct, and it marked well.
Corporal punishment was heralded by her saying things like, “I think we should deal with this matter right now”, “Judy, fetch the cane”, “face the corner while I fetch my cane”, “this needs resolving right now, young lady”. I usually had to bend over and touch my toes, and the strokes were given over knickers or pyjamas, but if it was bathtime a bare bottom caning was not unknown. Yes, even at 18, 19 and 20, Miss D was present during my baths. I always deserved the corporal punishment she dished out so have no complaints. Moreover, giving two or three strokes of the cane got the matter over with there and then. I can also say that I found the canings very thrilling on account of Miss D’s manner, the way she handled the cane (as though she had years’ of practice) and the act of bending over, plus, of course, examination in private afterwards. I never found out if she had used the cane in previous appointments, but would not be at all surprised if she had done so.
There was also an episode when she dealt with me and a close friend, which continued my CP interest into adult life. I had a dear friend called Alice and she lived nearby. Her father was away often too and I always sensed that her lovely mother was never quite sure how to discipline her. Alice was a tomboy like me, but perhaps a little more rebellious. I know her mother visited the Principal to discuss her behaviour as Alice told me she had to sit through a very awkward 45 minutes in her study. The outcome was that, as a first step, Alice was to be caned. From what she told me later, Alice was caned there in front of her mother; six strokes across her knickers, but it did nothing to curb her sense of adventure.
It wasn’t long before we left the college. We were both 19 and, pending a return to England at some stage, had teaching jobs without qualifications, helping students improve their English, but I also learned shorthand and typing.
Miss D still ruled the roost when my parents were away, and one day Alice had brought her dress to our house ready for a ball that evening. We had been out all afternoon and were late back. Miss D was very cross and had spoken several times to Alice’s mother, and clearly the conversation had a specific element to it. We rolled in with just enough time to bath and change before leaving for the ball.
Miss D sent us to her rooms at one side of the large bungalow we occupied. She entered and gave us a dressing down for being so late and missing our afternoon tea. She also told Alice that she had spoken to her mother to see if she knew where we were. Miss D then picked up the telephone and dialled Alice’s home. Her mother was relieved we had come back, but Miss D told her that she planned to cane me. Alice’s mother then said, and we could hear the conversation, that, as discussed, could she also cane Alice? Alice looked dismayed but cheered up when I grinned at her and told her just to take it. Later, we agreed that we really thought we would be forbidden to attend the ball.
Miss D replaced the handset and told us to go to my bedroom and undress for bath. We went to my bedroom. It was a large room and our dresses for the ball were hanging there. Our shoes were by the bed and Miss D had laid out fresh underwear for me. We could hear the bath being run along the corridor. We undressed to bra and knickers as Miss D entered holding her cane. Without any fuss she instructed me to bend over. I realised, of course, that Alice would witness my caning just as I had been present for that awful girl after the hockey incident, but I found it strangely exciting. I took my position finger tips on my bare toes. Six stinging strokes were laid across my bottom and they really hurt. I stood and rubbed my cheeks. Miss D was in no mood to ease off.
Alice was told to face the bed and bend over. She did this and her knickers were like a drum skin across her beautiful bottom. A similar six strokes were given, making her wince at each. She stood and hopped from one foot to the other several times as she rubbed her bottom. Miss D went to check the bath and Alice and I studied our well-marked bottoms. Miss D then escorted us naked to the bathroom. We had a large bath and Alice and I were told to get in. As we washed, Miss D provided hot water to wash our hair and then handed us large soft towels to dry ourselves.
The ball that evening was marvellous though sitting was difficult. Several times during the ball I caught Alice’s attention and she smiled knowingly at me. I danced several times with one young man and later in a quiet corner of the dark garden outside we kissed and his hand moved down my back and rested on my bottom. If only he knew!
There was a sequel to this event. As mentioned, Alice’s mother seemed to be concerned that she was not managing her daughter. Alice was not particularly naughty. Well, she was in the view of her mother and Miss D, but neither was she an ideal, model, young colonial lady.
One day I saw Miss D going to Alice’s bungalow and then, on my way home, I saw her leave and Alice’s mother seeing her off at the door. A few days later, I came home and walked past Miss D’s rooms. I could hear her talking to Alice’s mother, so paused to eavesdrop on their conversation. I could hear the creaking door of Miss Dunn’s cupboard open and then she said: “I bought this for you to use on Alice.” Alice’s mother thanked her and assured her she would use it. Miss D wisely cautioned her to use it sparingly, but effectively. They went to the far end of the room and had tea but as the tea cups rattled I slipped away. Some years later, I discovered how the commitment to cane Alice developed.
In due course the time came for me to leave India for England. My parents were also returning, but not immediately, so they made arrangements for me to live with an aunt close to where I had secured a secretary’s job. Leaving India was a sad day and leaving Miss D, who was going to a new post in Bombay, was difficult as I loved her dearly. I actually felt that I would miss the canings she gave me, but at this stage never thought I would continue the liking for CP in England.
Once the date for my departure was known, I wanted a final taste of that cane and I wanted it really badly. The last few weeks flew by and packing had to be done and farewells made. One evening, I had to be home by a set time and the ever wise Miss D warned me not to get caught in a monsoon downpour as she did not want extra laundry to prepare. She was most insistent on both counts. I had been with Alice and a couple friends and lost track of the time; that is my excuse.
My arrival was very late and on the way I was caught in a tremendous downpour and looked like a drowned rat. Miss D was not amused. She set a hot bath running and told me to go to my room and take off that sodden dress. She disappeared and returned a few minutes later with the cane. I was holding my heavy, soaked dress and stood there in bra and knickers, which also were soaked.
She took the dress. A chair was pulled to the centre of the room. Miss D announced I was in for a final taste of her discipline. I had to go over her lap, but rather than her hairbrush she used her hand to spank my bottom clad in wet clinging knickers. She gave me at least 20 slaps and they stung, as you would imagine. She told me to stand. The chair was moved and the cane flourished with a sizzling swish.
“Really, Judy, however will you manage in England? Face the bed and bend over,” said Miss D.
I faced the bed but continued to rub my stinging cheeks.
“Bend over!” came the female voice behind me. I really wanted a caning but had not bargained on having rosy red stinging cheeks as well. I bent over, looking forward to what was to be my last caning possibly for ever.
Some readers will have experienced a supple cane applied to a wet bottom. If not, I can tell you that the six strokes Miss D applied with expertise really, really stung! She placed them on my lower cheeks where there was more padding. I was able to hold my position, but did they sting!
Miss D then told me to finish undressing while she went and checked the bath. I peeled off my bra and knickers and, picking up a large towel, walked naked to the bathroom. As I prepared to get in the bath Miss D’s gentle touch was felt on my sore cheeks. In the mirror I could see six livid stripes.
While I washed in the hot bath, my Governess commented that I still had a naughty streak in me but she hoped that the spankings and canings she gave me would stand me in good stead in later life. I told her that I had deserved all of them and appreciated her efforts to deal with me. If only she knew just how much I appreciated them! After washing, I climbed out and she wrapped me in a large towel. She hugged me and whispered that she would miss me when I went to England; I said that I would miss her too.
My return to England and being reacquainted with corporal punishment can be kept for another time, but a day later I said goodbye to Alice. Her parents were going to Singapore and she would accompany them. I longed to ask her certain questions but it would be 5 years later before we met again. Very soon, I boarded a train to take me to Bombay where I joined a ship for England. No cheap flights then. The voyage was wonderful and took me via the Red Sea and Suez, across the Med and Bay of Biscay to England. A train journey took me to the aunt’s local station and then her Morris Minor delivered me to the house. It was a lovely rambling house and she was such a sweet lady. My trunk was manhandled up to my room.
The next day I unpacked it. At the bottom, placed carefully between some dresses, was Miss D’s cane! I held it closely and kissed it. But did she expect my aunt to use it? Had she written to my aunt telling her to deal with me in appropriate manner? I never saw Miss D again and, though we corresponded for several years and I once mentioned the canings she had given me, but I did not ask about the cane in the trunk. In reply, Miss D merely said that, “the necessary experience of corporal punishment would stand me in good stead.”
Several years later, I had the good fortune to accompany my boss at the time to a conference in the south of France. Alice was leaving Singapore and moving to England and we wrote often. At this time she was travelling overland across Italy and France and she was to be nearby before travelling to Paris. We met one afternoon and went to the beach. It was a nudist beach and we had no hesitation in undressing and sun-bathing and swimming stark naked.
I admired Alice’s body and studied her bottom when the opportunity presented itself. Later, we went to her hotel room and she suggested we shared a shower so we could wash off any sand and salt. As we stood there naked she commented jovially that my bottom was in better shape than when she last saw it; that is, no cane stripes. She even commented that I had no ‘tiger stripes’! I laughed loudly. If she had known my CP activities since arriving in England, she would have been amazed. In the large shower cubicle I plucked up courage to ask her if she had in fact been caned at home. I did not let on that I knew Miss D had provided her mother with a cane. Alice frowned briefly, put her arms round my waist and held me close under the cascade. She said that she had discovered a cane at home but it had never been used on her. So it seems that her mother never followed Miss D’s wise advice.
A few days later, my boss and I returned to England. It was another 2 years before Alice and I met again in England and we could reminisce again. Happy days.