My father was a civil servant with the Foreign Office and often attended meetings all over the world. Mum usually stayed at home, or if not I would stay with Aunty Peggy who only lived 5 minutes away.

One particular summer holiday, father was to attend a week-long series of meetings in New York and mum was desperate to go, so Aunty Peggy was drafted in as cover. She was a spinster and enjoyed the company. However, two days before the trip, Aunty Peggy was rushed into hospital with gallstones and was to be kept in until she could be operated on. Mum was crestfallen until gran rang and suggested I went and stayed with her for the week. Gran was lovely but a little old-fashioned, and lived near Dover in Kent. Mum wasn’t sure, but I begged and eventually everyone was happy. The next day, I jumped on the train and she met me at Dover, then we drove the 20 minutes or so back to her cottage at the edge of a large farm.

I settled in and we went for a walk. The sun was shining and all was good with the world. Mum had warned me before I left that her mum was rather old-fashioned in many ways. She didn’t drink, had no computer or television, she always went to church on a Sunday, and she wouldn’t be afraid of smacking my bottom if I did anything naughty! Never having had a smacked bottom, I just laughed that off, much to the amusement of mum who had given me a knowing look.

The week passed, and it was getting quite boring. I had been dragged to church on Sunday morning and we had a proper sit-down tea in the afternoon with two of her friends from church, which was actually not that bad. I was getting restless at the slow pace of everything after living in London all my life. There were no teenagers to be found and I was bored. Eventually I found a football in a field and started to have a kick about. I played soccer at school so it was something to pass the time.

“Watch what you are doing with that ball, Jill. I don’t want my windows breaking, thank you very much!” she shouted from her bedroom window as I bounced the ball off the wall with my head.

“Don’t worry, I could play for England one day you know,” I boasted.

I carried on for a short while and then even got bored of that. Gran took me to the beach where there were plenty of kids for the afternoon and I was able to let off steam and get soaked to the skin in the meantime. Gran was not best pleased when I stood dripping sea water next to her car.

“You’d better get changed before you get in, young lady. There is a blanket and some tracksuit bottoms and a shirt in the boot,” she instructed.

I popped the boot. Oh my goodness; grandma clothes! Could this week sink any lower? I wrapped myself in the blanket and with all the gymnastic grace of a whale bungee jumping, I managed to undress without letting anyone see anything they shouldn’t. Once dry, I squirmed into the back seat and dressed in a little more comfort and we returned to the cottage.

“If you let me have your wet clothes and the ones you are wearing, I’ll pop them in the washing machine,” gran called up to me as I closed my bedroom door. I couldn’t wait to get out of those disgusting garments. I changed into a tee shirt and short skirt, then I gathered everything in the blanket and absent-mindedly launched it down the stairs, something I always did at home. However, mum doesn’t have a house full of ornaments and knick-knacks in every nook and cranny. Seconds later, there was an almighty crash as a large plate toppled from its stand which was on a shelf at the bottom of the stairs. Gran came hurtling out of the kitchen thinking I had had an accident. I stood rooted to the top step of the stairs and stared at the mess.

“I am so sorry, one of the clothes must have hit the plate. I’ll clean it up, gran,” I offered as I started to descend the creaky staircase to where the clothes were laying.

“What the heck were you thinking, Jill! Look at the mess, and my plate. That was a memento from when I worked in Morocco after the war,” she said, clearly quite upset by the incident.

“I’m sorry, gran, I wasn’t thinking. I do that at home but I suppose that is a clear drop, not like here,” I explained.

“Too true, you were not thinking, and I am surprised at your mother allowing you to do something that silly. Deal with this mess at once while I put the washing in. Then, I will deal with you,” she said ominously.

Instantly my mind flashed back to what mum had said, and all of a sudden the knowing look didn’t seem so odd any more. Finding the dustpan and brush in the cupboard under the stairs, I swept up the broken pottery and carefully carried it to the bin outside. Gran returned from the kitchen at the same instant. I put the dustpan back where I had found it and turned to see gran standing, looking very angry, still with her arms folded.

“Well, I suppose your mum would tell you off and send you to your room, or something similar. I am rather more hands-on when it comes to errant behaviour from children. Now, I was 17 at the time, hardly a child, I thought, but was not in a position to argue. With that, gran pulled a straight-backed chair from under the dining table and turned it to face away from the table, then she sat down with her knees very slightly apart.

“I am going to do to you what I often did to your mother and her sister. And, from the look of it, it has been sadly lacking in your upbringing to date!”

She took a firm hold of my wrist, drew me forwards and pulled me down across her knees until I was laid flat with hands and feet firmly on the cool wooden floor. My short skirt had ridden up to just below my panties, but to my shock I felt my skirt move yet further up and realised gran had pulled this up and over my bottom, exposing my bright blue panties to the air. She put her fingers in the elasticated leg holes and pulled the fabric firm and tight over my bottom, which was a very strange experience.

“Now my girl, keep still, this shouldn’t take long.”

Smack.

“Ouch, ohhh, stop that hurts!” I bucked and screamed.

Smack.

“Of course it does. It is a spanking and you spank to punish!” she barked coldly.

Smack, smack, smack. The spanks, I guess 5 seconds or so apart, continued for a good couple of minutes. Her spare hand held me down firmly as spank after spank impacted my bottom, which was becoming more and more sore with each one. I stopped screaming and this was replaced by tears and sobbing. I sounded more like a toddler than an upper school student.

Eventually, much to my relief, a very sharp hard smack was followed with the words, “I hope that has taught you some common sense. I hope I do not have to spank you again whilst you are here, Jill. I went easy on you this time, but if there is a next time I will spank you on the bare bottom as I did your mother and I have a leather soled carpet slipper which will make your bottom very, very sore. Now get up, dry your eyes and help me with dinner please.”

Easy? Good grief, how much worse could it get? I got up, straightened my clothes and did not give her the satisfaction of seeing me rub my bottom, even though it was aching for relief. When she had put the chair back and gone into the kitchen, I pulled my skirt up and gave my bottom a good hard rub before helping with dinner.

I was very careful for the last 3 days before I returned home. Gran was kind and I was a little less needy and was able to keep myself amused when we were not doing things together. I certainly made sure that my bottom did not become acquainted with gran’s slipper, that is for sure.

Mum met me at the station when I got back. She smirked with a knowing look and I couldn’t help thinking she was looking at my bum as we walked back to the car.

“So go on, how was it with gran?” she eventually asked.

“Oh, you know, pretty dull most of the time, but I sort of enjoyed it, but she is very old- fashioned, like you said,” I responded.

“So, how many days did it take before she put you over her knee and spanked you then?” she smirked more.

I blushed and I could feel my face burning.

“Ah, I see, and I presume that pretty little bottom of yours ended up that colour too!” she chuckled.

“Oh very funny, mum. Can we forget about it, please? That was a one off,” I replied sharply.

“Maybe she was right all along. She said we should have spanked you years ago but I thought better of it,” she paused briefly. “But maybe if she still has that leather slipper, I could borrow it one day.”

“Mother, shut up and drive, please. This is so embarrassing! And no, you are not telling dad,” I growled.

PSm