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

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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. 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. Doreen seemed only too delighted to assist. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. “We’ll let’s see how co-operative he becomes,” Aunt Pam replied, “we’ll start with the cane.”

Penny got a little cross said “will you be quiet or we’ll be caught and then we’ll see who gets it. I’ve a good mind to wallop you now, am in the mood, Lord knows. If I know Mrs F, tables are about to be turned, which we should watch – so your bottom bare can wait for a spectacle that’s rare – our Vicar is clearly a spanking giver, not receiver and he’s about to get it from Mrs F good and proper, if my name’s not Penny!” 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. Then I heard her trot out this little ditty. “Spank a boy and do it right, trousers down, pants up tight. And if he smiles when he should frown, then spank him with his pants right down.” With that, Aunt Pam pulled my jeans down, exposing my underpants. My face was now near to the floor and I remember clearly the smell of the carpet, mixed with tobacco smoke as Doreen lit up a cigarette.Except in special cases. She’d even tried to have the class of spank re-formed. So girls could learn technique, if called. 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.

By now really embarrassed, I went a bit further up the garden so I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but then my mother shouted at me: “Simon! Come here!” 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.

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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. No, it was not Michelle. Then she got it. The bottom bare its owner fair was Mrs F – she lived next door. Well, well, well. Matriarch of six herself, of Family Frobisher: a husband, two daughters, two sons, a nephew and a niece. She was no stranger to give and receive, that time honoured fashion of women and men. As she climbed the stairs thoughts of her own upbringing and the spankings she had received raced through her mind, what part of her naughty bottom had taught her the most? What words had her Mummy used to send the message home? What advice from her mentors, the W.I. and the Vicar helped her do what was needed? The memories spoke to her…”Spare the rod, spoil the child.”“It is for her own good.”“She will thank you one day.”

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!” Karen was on her tummy. She was sniffing now, not crying, and trying to understand the lovely feeling she has in her most intimate area, as she gently pushes up and down on the bed, her bright red bobbing up and down, which she can see, in the mirror, if she looks over. Which of course she does… 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?”

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I countered by saying that I was too old to be spanked, and asked what would happen if I simply refused to submit to the punishment, as she wasn’t my parent nor my teacher. This was actually very untypical and rather daring of me – but Aunt Pam simply said that I was most certainly not too old to be spanked. “Boys are at their naughtiest in their teens – they need more spanking rather than less as they get older!” she said. 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…” She sat down on that vestry chair, creaking slightly under the weight of bare acre, which made Tasha giggle. Her freshly spanked cheeks on wood nestled. She was ready! Vicar went over, displaying a bare quite boyish but chunky, too much indulgence and not enough fasting. In looks both fore, and aft, Penny was reminded of Finn, husband and partner to Laywoman Lawson, who as it happened gave and received as Penny suspected (found out on a visit one night). A spanking husband and a spanking wife was quite the zeitgeist among the 40 somethings. Equal opportunities. 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.