I'm not judging you, I just really don't understand it because I grew up in the 70's where this would never have happened. If somebody had tried this with my kid I would have followed them home and said "Right, you beat my kid and now I'm here to find out if you like a stranger abusing yours?" to get my point across. Of course I would not do anything but I think they would see where I was coming from. Without doubt there would be a degree of jealousy from some with troublesome daughters too, and even though she would never admit it, that gave her satisfaction too! 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. Despite being a stern disciplinarian, Kate was also a very loving mom. She showered her daughters with hugs and kisses, liked to play and joke around with her them when they were being good, and comforted them after they had been punished. 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?

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.The Littles Party in Sarah’s suite was later on in the evening and I went to that. She had many little playmates there and they were all well behaved, thankfully. I’m not a “littles” fan and only go because it means so much to Sarah to have her Momma there. Sometimes these play parties can get out of hand with a bunch of over-sized brats throwing paper airplanes, shooting water pistols and just being annoying. I have no patience for this whatsoever! 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. Steven was the last visitor and he brought a letter from Nancy telling me about his behavior over the summer. 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. This was a further bombshell – I’d never been told to take my trousers down for any punishment before. I just stood there transfixed, my heart in my mouth. I was definitely having a huge adrenalised reaction, and I froze like an animal caught in headlights.

The next day I was amazed to find that my friends had not prepared for their beating. I'd crammed five hankies down my pants. I probably looked like I'd got the biggest arse in the school, but I wasn't worried about that.They simply must look, but not be seen or they both might go over the knee of enthusiastic newbie, old-time Vicar. Mind you, thought Tasha naughtily, that might not be such a bad thing. Ladies of the PPC over a knee – it had a certain ring Many years later I was teaching at a school and it was the last day of term, a day which had been decided by the authorities would be the final day corporal punishment could be allowed.

Reading the thread about what was acceptable in the 70's made me think about the number of times I was caned or assaulted by teachers often for ridiculous reasons. I guess I should feel aggrieved but there was something perversely funny about getting your rump twigged and it was always something that you could bond with mates over. So share your thoughts and stories about caning here. This is how I lost my caning virginity. Mummy was a perfect product of the 1950’s. A dutiful housewife who had kept an excellent house since the day she married. Sadly her husband was no longer around, but stoically, with a stiff upper lip and a gallon of fortitude, she had carried on running the house, her home, with pride. When I got within arm’s reach of Kate, she pulled me across her lap and began spanking me with her hand, even harder and faster than she had spanked the girls. I am sure that I got the most spanks of any of us that day. 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. Karen took out the envelope containing the slip….the slip…the white crispy slip, the DETENTION SLIP, and walked gingerly by the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hello Mum. I got this today.”My Dad began dating a woman named Kate, and by the time of my summer visit in 1984 she and her kids were living with him. Kate was an attractive woman in her early 30s and had two daughters from a previous marriage – Denise, who was eight at the time, and six-year-old Kristie. In the next few weeks, I saw Denise and Kristie get spanked during trips to the grocery store, the mall and the movie theatre, as well as the playground. Interestingly, neither of the girls seemed to feel any sense of embarrassment about it. They talked about their spankings very matter-of-factly, and did not think it unusual to be spanked in front of strangers.

The promised storm arrived on one fateful Spring day. Confidence had grown into over confidence. Self confidence into haughtiness. Pubic hairs had covered her soft pubescent bone, fingers had delved, conversations with friends on the delight of a fingered pussy had taken place. It was one such conversation that made her not even notice her form teacher walk into the classroom. She carried on talking to Barbara, instead of standing up with the rest, to say in a slightly singing way, “Good Morning Miss Weltwell.”Now she had a vehicle for her pride. She had always been proud of her daughter, a bright intelligent daughter. Not many from the village had got into Grammer School in recent years. She knew that a lot of her peers in the W.I. Would be saying that very night…”I hear Karen got into Grammer school, she deserves it, her Mummy will be so proud.”