Bottoms Smacked on the Sacks: The Spankings of Mother and Daughter in the Coal-Pits

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Bottoms Smacked on the Sacks: The Spankings of Mother and Daughter in the Coal-Pits

Bottoms Smacked on the Sacks: The Spankings of Mother and Daughter in the Coal-Pits

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Although we did have the cane at my sweet little primary school in Wembley, London, in the 1960s, I managed to avoid it. However, at my senior school I was regularly caned and slippered as we all were, going into the 1970s. One early morning fair, whilst out for a walk, Penny and Tasha strolled past the church. As oft they did when Tasha was home on leave.

The sobbing didn’t as the heat sank in, and pain exploded, she just wailed and wailed.”Now up you get… and straight to bed young lady, AND stay there… Once you have stopped crying I don’t want to hear another peep out of you…do you hear? Or you will be going over my knee again… Okay it’s done!” Mummy looked into the mirror, at this distance it was like a well framed photo, her on the bed, her shapely daughter with her upturned rump fine and round, catching the light. She looked at herself, doing what a good loving Mummy should do…her duty. I’m going to give you a taster of each of my little helpers – three with the cane, three with the slipper and three with the board.”“You can’t make me!” I protested, but with that she called Doreen into the room. I gave it mainly to the older children – mostly boys, of course! Very few girls. I can’t remember anyone younger than eight having it. And it had to be pretty serious – hitting another children, danger to life and limb, insolence to their class teacher, that sort of thing.

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I was about eight years old when punishments became more severe. Several times on the way home from school I had rung a neighbour’s door chime and ran away. The neighbour had complained to my mother who had told me off and warned me not to do it again. I did not for a couple of weeks but then one afternoon the temptation became too much: I pressed the button and immediately the door opened – the lady grabbed my shoulder and marched me straight down the road to my home. The room was a combined lounge-diner. Auntie Deirdre got up, took a chair from under the dining table and placed it in the centre of the room, facing Mum’s wheelchair. Auntie Deirdre sat down on it, put the hairbrush down on her lap and called me to her side – which I did very reluctantly. Seeing a girl’s pants was unheard of in everyday life, so for it to be sanctioned, legally, was almost akin to waiting for execution where you were not only punished, but legally invaded and destroyed, like in an act of war. It was both somehow thrilling and terrifying. The adults who mostly protected you could also punish you. This kindled in me my first great ‘love’ in the murky world of shadows – the desire to see a pretty girl spanked. Well, Simon, what have you been up to?” she asked. Before I could open my mouth, it became clear that this was a question not really aimed at me, as Mum described my misbehaviour, adding to the list one or two little sins I thought had been ignored or forgotten. No, it was given on the seat of their underpants. I tried to make things quite a bit more formal and hopefully scary, especially as these were older children. With girls, it can be awkward to cane over a skirt, so I felt pants was the best and fairest option for both sexes. They allowed a bit of modesty for the older children without really offering much protection.

Well what a tour de force. In minutes that man without his cloth had gone from white to deepest red. Tasha could hardly stop herself from blurting “hooray, well done!”. Now Vicar was a chap and it was evident that lying over the lap his nature-given ‘hood had grown somewhat. Mrs F had foreseen this and carefully placed it between her legs as she had spanked away – imagine the scene without difficulty – which of course had rubbed it. The delights of a spanking for a chap is that he can get pleasure at two ends, which has a result, put delicately. Now Mrs F knew all this – of course she did – being a woman of not just a few summers and a matriarch to boot. Which is why she firmly believed that a chap who submitted to the indignity should occasionally have his reward. She kept a flannel nearby, said whilst reviewing her own handiwork “don’t worry Vicar, I’ll mop up and all will be well with the world. She reached down and very discreetly tugged a bit more. For long experience of boys and men she knew ‘better in than out’. To ‘clear the gunwales’ was, she thought, in every respect a very healthy thing. The shop assistant was indeed a W.I. member, and knew the women in the village. Mummy knew that it would soon be common knowledge that she was now armed. My second great desire in this weird and shadowy dimension was to be spanked myself by a stern, no-nonsense older female. This was kindled in me by Aunt Pam, with the help of her friend Doreen, who lived with her. Her mummy, was at the very least, delighted! “Ohhh you clever girl Karen, you have made your Mummy so very proud. This Saturday, we are off to town you and I, we will go to Rushet’s Cafe on the High Street, and I’ll take you to your favourite bakers and get you a lovely cream cake to have after Sunday tea! Then my dear, we will go looking at uniforms and satchels. You are going to look lovely, you deserve the best….well done!” Sheila Thompson (name changed) was headteacher at a large suburban primary school in the north of England from 1978 to 1985 – a year before corporal punishment was abolished in UK schools. She kindly agreed to be interviewed about her memories of that time.In due time, this joyous fact would be shared with parish ladies as they discussed the merits and joys of bottoms bare and spanking matters, over each other’s knee as it turned out, on Wednesday nights at Ladies Group. But that was for the near future. There and then, in real time, there was some proper action due. All the words looked so official, having been typed by the school secretary. And signed by her teacher in ‘Quink’ blue, fountain pen ink. Mummy sat on the bed, and slid the slipper deftly under the pillow. Then turned a nervous, worried Karen to face her. “I told you quite plainly Karen, that if you were naughty at school, you would be punished at home.” As she did this she tugged the pyjama bottoms down, to land in a puddle at her daughters ankles. Why haven’t you taken his pants down?” Doreen asked with interest. “Oh my dear, that’s far too vulgar.”“But you used to cane Rory on his bare bottom?”“Ah that’s different – he’s my son, whereas this one is merely in my charge. I’ve no desire to see what he’s got down there! But pants up nice and tight, and we have a perfect view. Now we’ll see who’s boss, young man!”

Finally, the headmistress sat down at the end of a bench alongside a large art table. She grabbed one of the boys, pulled his shorts and pants down, then made him bend over the bench beside her. The headmistress began by giving the boys a sound telling-off, shouting at them forcefully – and this is when we found out what had happened. Neither boy made no reply, and no doubt it was felt that their silence was pretty much as good as a confession. In Karen’s case Mummy simply said, “I have signed it, and returned it already. Let me say this just once Karen. If you are ever punished at school, you will be punished again at home, understood?” Penny sat on very cold stone, at first a yelp and then a wriggle, then settled her cheeks in for the duration. Tasha draped over the matronly knee, Penny, though bursting at the seams to begin, stroked the target of her frustration and admiration – the magnificent moon of her pal. So recalling some of the lesson learnt from this morning’s tutorial show, she raised her hand above those cheeks and whapped it down as first shot in an opening salvo. The barrage went on and Tasha did shout out, most satisfactorily “ow!, Oh!, Ah!, aaah” and of course then added “that hurts!”. It is an old line but time-served.Karen listened, and the message sank in. She knew her Mummy did not do idle talk as regards discipline. The journey to the end of the day was like some heroic trek in a fantasy novel. Long and arduous. The lunch time collection of the ‘death sentence’ sent a cold shiver to her tummy. The words left the slip and ran amok in her brain. There before her the words threatened her bottom.

The incident happened at a private school I attended, which took both boys and girls. The year was 1967, and everyone in that class would have been seven or eight years old at the time. At first, Penny thought, it could be Laywoman Lawson, known as Michelle – a very similar size and shape, but no, the voice was not quite right to be her.So to my intense embarrassment, I had to pull down my pants and show off my (very red and sore) bottom again – but it was better than a ‘top up’ over Dad’s knee right then. I did find the atmosphere of spanking that was around in every facet of cultural life quite exciting; forbidden, terrifying, and yet intriguing. At my primary school I was once sent to the headmaster for playfully spanking a girl’s bottom – but instead of getting the cane (which is what usually happened if you were sent to the head) he just scooped me up in one movement, slapped my behind three times and told me to never to do that again. I was otherwise a model pupil, so I guess I’d earned some credit points.



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