A little tune is played, we sup our first gulp, look at the bottoms on show, and settle down for a blushing bottom tale of spanking… 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 leaving of school behind her and the journey home was sullen. The man in the bowler hat frowned at her as if he knew. The walk from the bus stop to her lovely cottage was heavy and slow. Two of Mummy’s friends saw her and nudged each other. Was that a snigger? Finally, she turned to me, all smiles and said: “Well, Asher, I think we have an understanding now, don’t you? And now you’ve met my little helpers!”

When the pain had eased slightly, I ventured downstairs. By this time my father was home from work and proceeded to lecture me for what seemed like an age. Mum assured me that what she had done earlier would happen again if there was further naughtiness or misbehaviour and that I would be spanked in front of anyone present. To close the matter, she would meet me from school the following day to visit the neighbour where I would say sorry and promise never do it again. After we had our evening meal I was sent to bed. This very naughty little boy needs his bottom spanked hard and he’s refusing to obey me – can you help me with him, please?” I’m sure Aunt Pam deliberately used humiliating, babyish language. This angered me and I became quite sullen and sulky. Tasha said “now Penny, you know you want to and as parish council member it is your business to know what’s what, which includes Vicar’s tendency –he is quite new. Call it parish practicalities, and by all means I’ll bend and bare for old fashioned justice when we are through…” The normal dose was two or three firm strokes across the seat of the boy’s shorts. It was always boys who got their bottoms ‘heated’, as our teacher put it – except for one memorable occasion, when she decided to slipper two girls who had been continually talking in class, despite several warnings. She had friends there, she had respect, she even had a few who envied her. Also, quite possibly, a few ladies, especially the young mothers, were in awe of her, even, more than a little scared of her.

As I say, I was a good boy for a long time, but such is the nature of small boys that they can’t be good for too long. I forget exactly what I had done naughty, but one afternoon, soon after I got home from school, Mum exploded on me and said: “Right – I’m ringing Auntie Deirdre!” I begged her not to but she was having none of it. She scooted her wheelchair over to the telephone and made the call. It was a relatively short one. So Tasha over lap, bare in the air, in turn squeezing Penny’s cheeks. She then announced in a while, as all is fair and all is fine with Penny the same touching and patting the target fair, transfixed and with a far away look. Then came the realisastion and the announcement: “Time to swap places, o chum of mine. In three words, it’s my turn! So over my lap you go.” And so it was, and so she did. Give and receive. Penny said, “What, now and here? Tasha, darling girl, you’ve’ got a walloping coming your way, hell or high water, but what do you mean? I’m taking you home by the ear, to deal with your rear…”. Tasha said, “Penny, now listen we’re both hot and bothered. No need to go far. This churchyard’s large, let’s find a grave stone and you can set to…” Unbeknown to most of the class, during the lunch break the two boys in question had forced a younger pupil to swallow some marbles. Their victim had been taken to the local hospital as a precaution, but was not seriously harmed – presumably the doctors believed nature would take its course, and the boy would eventually just poo them out again.

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!” 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. Sure enough a ringing instruction rang out, clear as a bell, which was their cue to resume their viewing position: “right, Vicar, I think you’ve covered the terrain. Now we change places and I show you how it’s done. Only fair when bottoms are bare that givers are also receivers”. A poor crying Karen thought it was over, but Mummy was reaching for the slipper. Karen looked to the mirror and saw it, she looked over her shoulder, up to meet her Mummy’s eyes.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. 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 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.

Karen felt aroused slightly, which made her feel even more of a naughty girl. But stood before Mummy as she scolded her was such a mixture of feelings. Her pubic hair had grown, it was now a delightful mixture of light fair hair with a hint of ginger, like her hair. The mirror of the dressing table was behind her, so Mummy could see her bottom, a bottom she was so proud of, like her new breasts, pert, and pleasingly plump. Penny had a half-hearted attempt at dissuading them both: “Natasha, its wrong to take a peak at a private meeting, bottoms bare or not. If you insist, I’ll spank your bare to kingdom come…” Mildred went to Ivy’s, where she met Betty and Mary. Like the fire in the plump bottom of our naughty girl, news of the good irls downfall began to spread.

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Oh shit! Why today, why does she need a hug? Today of all days when I have let her down.” Thought Karen. The pain did not leave, it was still growing. Even in the dark of night she could feel the heat on her hand. And lying on her tummy, stroking her poor bottom, she fell asleep. 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. This all changed when I was 13. Aunt Pam was a Christian fundamentalist, and in my teens I’d sometimes stay weekends or for a time in school holidays at her lovely house in Amersham, and she became a kind of tutor to me too. A window was open in that small space known as the vestry. As they passed by an unmistakable sound emanated out, rooting them to the spot.