When I was eleven I got a stepfather, my dad had died a few years ago in an accident. We moved into a large house that he owned. On Sundays my mum, younger brother and I used to go to church and then coffee with my grandparents but after my stepdad came he told my mum that the two of us would stay home and do homework. That meant we were alone for about two hours every Sunday.
I was due to go to grammer school in September and into long trousers but when we had waved goodbye to my mum and brother I had to go to my bedroom and change into my junior school clothes. The trousers were too tight, not around the waist because I was slim but I had to hold my tummy in to do up the zip. The trousers were too small and shiny through all the washes they had but my dad said it did not matter. Now I know why he liked me in tight shorts but then I didn't.
I had to go back down to the dining room and sit at the table and wait for him to bring me my work. Usualy it was 'remembering'. It would be spellings, french words, or geog (place names like rivers in Africa or stuff). I had a set time to learn them and after a while he would come into the dining rom carrying his whippy swagger stick which he tod me he had bought at an antique shop just before he married my mother.
I always got nervous with answers and once when I first got them all correct he looked at me angrilly and left the room. When he returned he brought a list of twice as many words for me to learn and I got less time to learn them before I heard his footsteps approaching the room.
My punishment was always the same, 6 hard strokes across my bottom. I had to lean over the edge of the table with my feet one foot apart and arms stretching straight accoss the table. He would say stuff like 'we will have to teach this little bottom a lesson will we not' or 'stick your bottom out further....yes good boy that's nicer'. He made no secret of the pleasure he got whacking me, in fact he once said something like 'its good having a little bottom to whack' The stick would rub across my bottom and then he would tap me in the middle of my bottom a few times before the first stroke. The pain was terrible and I screamed out with ows and ouches as each whack was given. My bottom felt as if it had a match on it. I always cried but I dared not move until he had completed the strokes and I was told to go to my room and wait for him.