During the early 1970s I attended a middle school in Sheffield. Whilst corporal punishment was not an everyday occurrence, it was not unusual for the odd leg or bottom to be slapped from time to time. One afternoon near the end of the summer term, Mrs S was having a stressful day. It was the class trip to the zoo the following day and people were genuinely excited. However, despite several requests, then demands, for order, two to three people kept up the talking and disruption to her maths lesson. Finally, Mrs S had had enough. Normally a fairly quietly spoken woman of

I’ve written couple of fictional short stories for the www.overthedesk.com website, but I would like to share with you a true recollection that happened a few years ago. It was late summer and I had a business meeting in central London. My wife wanted to come with me so she could go shopping for a new dress to wear at a friend’s wedding in a few weeks hence. Of course, I agreed but explained that I would need to attend the meeting first. Things didn’t go well from the start. I took a while to find somewhere to park, my

Joanna was a lovely girl, sparkling personality, very caring, and a really great friend. Against all that, from the school’s point of view she was impulsive, forgetful, and the Headmistress’s daughter. Of course, everybody thought when she arrived that she was bound to be every teacher’s pet, not one of them wanting to upset or offend her mother. It made it a bit difficult, too, for Joanna because she didn’t want to be a teacher’s pet or the perfect pupil. So she developed a rebellious streak, mainly little things, nothing serious, just to prove she was not the angel she

So here I was, early in my fourth year at the school, standing, facing what we all call the spanking desk, the spare desk at the front of the classroom used for that very purpose, affording a good view of proceedings for the rest of the class, mainly as a deterrent for any other would-be wrong-doers. It also allowed the student a little privacy in that she does not have to show the class the pain and distress on her face during the punishment. It is enough for them to see the impact the slipper has at reasonable force on

I was a skinny boy with reddish hair, and at fourteen my voice hadn’t even started breaking yet, so I was behind the eight ball when it came to fitting in at my local high school, Newquay County Grammar, a coeducational school. I was no good at football or cricket either, though I was quite good at athletics and cross country running. I had a couple of friends, but in reality I was a bit of a loner. Girls weren’t interested in a skinny red-headed boy who sounded like an eleven year old. Or that’s what one of the girls

I’d like to share a few real life experiences of mine. During my MBA days, I used to tease girls a lot and act cool. In spite of repeated requests from the girls, I never used to listen. One of my favourite targets was my batch-mate in MBA. One day, as usual, I pulled her hair. She never used to get angry, but that day got wild at me. Unfortunately for me that day, she was carrying an umbrella with a long and sharp tip at the end. She started chasing me wildly. I tried to escape, but I slipped

My cousin Carmel was 10 years older than me and had always been my favorite girl cousin. She was a beautiful 5’4” inch curvy girl with shoulder length brown hair and blue eyes. She lived in Augusta Georgia and we lived in West Virginia but she loved to come to our farm every summer and enjoy country living. That meant she could go horse-back riding whenever she wanted, got to run the farm equipment, take walks to wild berry patches and eat all you could pick, and go fishing. So in some senses she was as much like a big

Spankings were quite common in the 1960s. This is a true story from 1963. In July 1963, my family went on a road trip, and my sister Katherine and I got into a shouting match which led to pinching, hitting, and kicking. I was 13, and Katherine had just turned 15 the week before. Katherine and I fought a lot in those days. I was jealous of her because she was very pretty, blond with hazel eyes, and had always been popular at school, whereas I was more nerdy, a bit on the chubby side, wore glasses, and had a

More than 20 years ago, when I was probably 14 or 15 years old, my mom and dad were going on a weekend vacation. It was only for them. I was going to stay with my dad’s younger sister, my aunt Tanya. Tanya was a lot younger than my dad, probably only about 35 or 36 at the time, so only maybe 20 years older than myself. She was single and had no kids. When I hung out with her, it was more like me hanging out with a sister or a friend than my aunt. She never really got

At the grammar school I attended, the cane was sometimes administered to the palms of the hands, and it really used to sting. The first time I got the cane at school, as I described in an earlier account entitled ‘A Boy’s First School Caning at a South East England School’, I got it across my hands. I would now like to relate the events that led to my second school caning which occurred within two weeks of my first caning. In many ways, the second time that I got the cane was related to an incident which, I think,