My stepmother had a son who was, obviously, my stepbrother, but he was never subject to the same regime as me.

Once, he came into my room and I told him where to go. Five minutes later, he came back with my stepmother in tow. She accused me of hitting him, which I hadn’t, but she wouldn’t believe me. So, she pulled out a chair from my dressing table. I continued protesting my innocence, but dreaded what was coming next.

As I feared, she sat down on the chair and grabbed my wrists. I knew full well where this was going. She told me I could learn what it was to be hit by someone bigger. My stepbrother, of course, was watching everything.

With a sharp tug, over her lap I went. I could feel her thighs supporting me, my nose was down towards the carpet and my legs hung in mid-air the other side. When she pulled up my skirt, I saw my stepbrother drinking it all in. It seemed to be happening in slow motion, taking hours not minutes. Then, horror of horrors, her fingers went into the elastic of my panties and down they came. I didn’t even look to the side because I was so embarrassed. I was 15 or 16 at the time and, after another scolding, her hand slapped down on my bare bottom. I was soon promising anything to have her stop spanking me.

After that, my stepbrother was able to be quite controlling, knowing he only had to tell his mother and I’d be back across her lap. Also, my mother had a friend who saw me being spanked on more than one occasion.

I never felt it was abusive though. We just didn’t get on at all. She was very strict and I was a wilful teenager.