I was eight years old when I received my first formal corporal punishment. Previously, there had been the occasional slap or smack on the leg or hand, administered in immediate response to an episode of misbehaviour. But this was quite different.
The offence was relatively minor. It was a hot Sunday in summer. We were celebrating the birthday of a family friend, with a picnic in the local country park. While the adults sat and talked, the children played games, laughing, running, and hiding. Inevitably, the laughter progressed to tears. A younger boy had pushed me over to the ground. In anger, I had picked up a twig, and swiped it across his bare legs. His crying attracted the attention of the adults. Some of them ran over to the bushes where we had been playing. An older girl who had witnessed the incident gave an accurate account of events...to my father. I was expecting a slap, but this did not occur. Instead, father told me that I had done a terrible thing which was dangerous and wrong. He told me to apologise to the victim - which I did. And he told me that the matter would be dealt with later.
I knew what this meant. I had heard father use the same words on many occasions when he intended to punish my older brother or older sister. At least my brother and sister were absent from the picnic, attending another party elsewhere. I would have been very ashamed if they had been present. I still recall the knot in the stomach, and the chill on my back, which I felt when I heard those words.
I had almost forgotten my fate by the time we had to pack up for home. Father, however, reminded me that my misbehaviour deserved punishment.
On arrival home, after helping to unpack the car, Father instructed me to go to my room, and to close the curtains. Some minutes later, he entered the room. He placed his slipper on my bed. Father asked me describe the incident. Although on the verge of tears in anticipation of my punishment, I managed to recount what had happened. Father asked if I believed that this was good behaviour. I answered 'no', adding that I knew I had been wrong, and that I was sorry. Perhaps I was hoping that he would abort the punishment at that stage. Father continued. He explained, again, that my misbehaviour required punishment. He told me that I was old enough to receive a spanking, and he went on to tell me what this would involve.
When instructed, I was to take off my shoes, socks, trousers and underpants. I was to bend myself forward across the side of my bed, with arms outstretched above my head. I was to remain in that position. Father would then administer four strokes of the slipper to my bare bottom. I would then be instructed to stand up, and to get dressed again. That would be the end of the matter.
I burst into tears, and pleaded with Father not to spank me. Needless to say, my pleas fell on deaf ears. Father told me that I would now do as he had instructed. When I refused, he told me that such disobedience would earn me an extra stroke. He gave me a count of ten to comply - but I just could not do it. 'Five strokes', father announced. I was very frightened. Father then told me that he would prepare me for punishment himself to get it over and done with.
In almost one movement, father had my trousers and underpants down at my ankles, and, holding my hands behind my back, he held me bending over the side of the bed. I struggled, but this was quite ineffective. As I had become quite hot with crying and struggling, I was very much aware of the cool air against my bare bottom.
The strokes were delivered slowly - it seemed like an eternity between each blow of the slipper - but in reality the interval between strokes was probably only half a minute. Two strokes were delivered to each buttock, with the final stroke landing in the middle. In hindsight, the strokes were not severe. Each blow released a diffuse sting on its target, and my bottom throbbed for hours afterwards. However, there were no blisters, and no bruises.
Father told me that the punishment was complete. He told me to get up, get dressed, and to get ready for tea.
Although this spanking was memorable as my first encounter with formal corporal punishment, it was really only the start. I continued to receive similar corporal punishment, perhaps every two to three months, although the intervals varied, of course, depending on behavioural incidents. Curiously, the nature of these episodes of misbehaviour is hard to recall. Bad language, insolence, disobedience, hurting others, and failure to respond to verbal warnings were the common themes. Corporal punishment seemed to be unique to our family - none of my friends were punished in this way.
The punishment format did not alter. The punishment always occurred some hours after the incident, allowing me some time to consider my behaviour, and the impending penalty. In hindsight, the spanking was structured to the extent that it was almost a ceremony. I was instructed to go to my room, to close the curtains, and to wait. Father would enter the room, close the door, and place his slipper on the bed. He would ask me to explain my behaviour, he would then explain that punishment was deserved, and he would announce the number of strokes to be administered. The number was either four or six. Extra strokes would be added for failure to comply with instructions.
My first few spankings were augmented by additional strokes gained in this way. On these occasions, my father would eventually say that he would prepare me for punishment to get the procedure completed, and he would continue as described previously. On one occasion, the tally reached nine strokes.
On the advice of my brother and sister, who received similar punishments for their misbehaviour, I soon learned to cooperate. They argued that this approach ensured the minimum physical pain (that is, the least number of strokes), and a rapid conclusion to proceedings. The price to pay for this was the humiliation of removing my trousers and underpants, exposing my bare bottom (and, of course, my genitals), and presenting my bottom in a position to receive punishment. There was also an element of humiliation in cooperating with one's own punishment. I realised much later in life that this ritual was as important a part of the punishment as the physical pain inflicted by the strokes themselves.
When my brother and sister passed their 12th birthdays, the nature of their punishments changed, and indeed, I followed suit.
It was at this age that I was sent away to a co-educational boarding school, which I really enjoyed. The school used corporal punishment, but it was reserved for major offences, such as smoking, alcohol consumption, theft, and absence without leave. I never received corporal punishment at school, and I can think of less than 20 occasions on which it had been administered during my six years there. School corporal punishment was administered by the Principal, or by the senior master or senior mistress. Punishments took place in private in the Principal's office. The cane was used, usually with six strokes administered to the clothed bottom, with the recipient bending over the back of an armchair.
The disciplinary regime was certainly stricter at home. Minor offences continued to incur corporal punishment, which I would frequently receive during school holidays.
After my 12th birthday, the venue and the implement for corporal punishment were changed. I was now required to present to my father's study to receive punishment, and instead of the slipper, there was my father's thick leather belt, which he kept in a drawer in his desk.
Again, there was the obligatory waiting period. Punishments were always administered in the evening, before dinner, which could mean spending a whole day under a cloud of anticipation if the misbehaviour had occurred in the morning.
This is one example of many similar episodes.
I was now aged 16. I had returned home late - at 1am - from a party at a neighbouring house. Father was sitting up when I arrived home, and he simply told me to present to his study at 6 o'clock next evening.
I entered his study at the requested time. Father told me to sit down. He questioned me about my behaviour at the party, and he requested an explanation for my late return. My feeble response was that I had been enjoying myself. Father explained that my excuse was poor, and that my behaviour was unacceptable. He told me that I was to receive six strokes of his belt in the usual fashion.
Father told me to prepare myself for punishment. Father stood at the window, looking out into the garden.
Silently, and without protest, I stood up. As on many previous occasions, I removed my shoes, and my socks. I walked over to the heavy oak table, across which I would soon be bending myself to receive my punishment. On the way, I collected father's leather belt from the desk drawer, and placed it on the oak table. As Father's study overlooked the garden, punishments in this room did not require the closure of the curtains.
As previously, I did not protest, and I did not struggle. I accepted that the punishment was going to occur, and that it was certainly in my interests to avoid annoying father.
I unfastened my own belt, and unbuttoned my trouser waist-band. I lowered my zip, and slipped my trousers down over my bottom and down to my ankles, from where I removed them completely. Out of habit, I folded my trousers, placing them on the floor.
Standing up straight, I now slipped my hands, one on each side, inside the waistband of my underpants. I eased the underpants down to my ankles, and stepped out of them, placing the garment on top of my folded trousers.
I was very familiar with the sudden rush of cool air against my exposed buttocks and genitals.
This moment, on the threshold of the physical punishment, always brought a rush of feelings. Fear, certainly, at the pain which was about to be received. Shame, certainly, at having to expose myself in such an undignified manner. Humility, at my vulnerability. And also pride, to some degree, for being able to accept my punishment, and being willing to participate in it.
I lifted my shirt above my waist, to ensure that it did not interfere with the strokes from the belt. I walked up to one end of the table. I pressed my pubic bone and groins against the edge of the table. It was warm from the afternoon sun. I leaned forward, so that my chest rested on the table. With this manoeuvre, I felt my buttocks rising up, and I widened my stance, maintaining a relaxed bend at the knees. My hands gripped on to either side of the table, above my head.
I felt the vulnerability of exposure, and in this position, I became aware of my genitals and the cool air against them as they presented themselves beneath the edge of the table.
Everything was ready. Without a word, Father approached the table, and picked up his belt. I watched as he disappeared out of sight behind me. I felt the warm leather touching the skin of my bottom as he lined up the first stroke. It was ironic that the next sensation would be so severe.
I heard the belt cutting through the air - and then an intense, sharp, stinging pain cutting through my buttocks as the first stroke landed. I felt my legs weaken. I knew that there would be a minute between each stroke. I firmed my stance as I felt the light touch of the belt, lining up for the second stroke. There was a whish as the belt cut through the air, landing above the first stroke. The strokes continued, achieving coverage of the entire buttock area.
I did not cry, despite the intense pain which stings, burns, and throbs. On completion, father told me to stand up, and to get dressed. Despite the discomfort of clothing against a beaten bottom, I complied.
Quickly, I left the study, and rushed up to my own room, where I stripped off and took a long, cold shower, concentrating the spray on my beaten bottom. This always gave relief, although pain and tenderness persisted for up to a week. Although the strokes left distinctive red marks, and small weals, they did not break the skin, and the bruises were only superficial.
Father punished me in this manner on perhaps three or four occasions each year between the ages of 12 and 18. The punishments ceased after I left home for higher education. I have not received corporal punishment since then...although there have been situations where I feel that it would have helped me.