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 impossible to run off because we lived some two hundred yards along the lane from our neighbour. Mrs Ryalls had complained to mum.
I had a few warnings from mum and I explained I was not doing it out of naughtiness, just because I loved the sound, which mum had explained to Mrs Ryalls. At the same time, I had been warned not to let it happen again.
I resisted the temptation for a couple of weeks, then on the way home one night I decided to give it a go once again. The chime rung but no-one came to the door or watched me along the lane, and nothing was said.
The following day I went to ring the bell again, but I’d only touched the button before the door opened. Mrs Ryalls grabbed my shoulder and marched me down the path and along the lane home. When mum answered the door the neighbour wasted no time in telling I had rung the chime again.
I could tell by mum’s face I had gone too far. She was furious and grabbed my wrist and marched me into the dining room, closely followed by Mrs Ryalls.
Mum just sat down and said: “Bend over.”
I stood looking at her. It was a real shock to the system and I just stood there giving a nervous laugh. Mum then pulled me over her knees. I never really struggled or protested. I then felt my school skirt raised and my knickers pulled down, whereupon mum proceeded to spank me. I’m not sure how many whacks I got because I lost count, but it was well into double figures.
When I stood in a flood of tears I was made to apologise to the neighbour. I shall never forget the smug look on Mrs Ryalls’ face. I was then sent to my bedroom. I looked in the mirror. My bottom and the tops of my thighs were bright red and well marked, with finger marks clearly visible.
I was only punished three more times over the next three or four years. Once it was much more painful because mum did not use her hand but an implement. On another occasion the punishment was much more embarrassing.
I never walked on the same side of the lane and could not look Mrs Ryalls in the face for ages after that episode in my life. She still lives up the lane and now we often chat but that evening has never been mentioned. The whole experience had a very profound affect on me but I now think the punishment was well deserved.