Note: The following story is entirely fictitious and is intended
for entertainment only. The author does not advocate the physical punishment
of children. Although the punishment described would have been acceptable
to some in the period in which the story is set, it would now be considered
abusive and illegal within the UK. The story is set in England in the 1950s.
For non-British readers, “pants” should be read as “underpants” and “vest”
as “singlet” throughout.
A couple of days later it was Friday. As there was no urgency to complete homework on this day, during the evening I often used to go along to Sylvia’s house, or she to mine. On his particular Friday, I went to hers and when I arrived I found that she was already playing cards with another girl of her age.
“This is Philip,” Sylvia said ungraciously to the unknown girl, “he lives around here.”
The girl looked at me without interest. She had short blonde wiry wavy hair and pale blue eyes. She was shorter than Sylvia, but quite stocky. I wondered who she was.
Just then Mrs Hews came into the room. “Hello, Philip,” she said, “I thought I heard you come in. Sylvia’s introduced you to Diane, I hope.”
“Er, yes.” Diane? The name seemed familiar. Who was Diane? Of course! Sylvia’s pal from school—the fellow bully. But what was she doing here?
“Diane’s mum has gone into hospital to have her baby,” Sylvia’s mother said. “Diane’s grandma was going to look after her and her little brothers, but unfortunately your gran has had an accident, hasn’t she Diane, and so the boys are going to their friends’ house and Diane is staying here for a few days.”
It was a comprehensive explanation. I remembered that the advanced pregnancy of Diane’s mum had supposedly saved her from a spanking for the bullying incident.
“Well, let Philip into your game, girls.”
“We’ve already started,” Sylvia said with continuing unenthusiasm.
“Well you can just already finish,” her mother said sharply, “or else!”
Sylvia decided not to press the point and picked up the cards and reshuffled. Actually, I was rather ill at ease and would gladly have left, but could hardly retreat with dignity now. And there was that interesting implied threat of “or else”.
The girls ignored me as much as they could so I felt pretty cold-shouldered. I supposed Diane might have been quite pretty had she smiled once in a while, but she had a peevish down-drooping mouth and looked like a spoiled brat. On the other hand, the implication of what Sylvia had said about her escaping a spanking implied that she did receive them. I remembered some mention of a father in the Navy. Perhaps he was the spanking parent. Anyway, after a few desultory games of ‘beggar you neighbour’ I left as soon as I decently could. At least they didn’t cheat!
I was in a quandary for the weekend. Part of me wanted to stay clear and so avoid the humiliation of rejection, but experience had told me that two girls tended to end up in trouble. On the other hand (if you can have three hands) I recognised that Sylvia’s mother could not spank another mother’s kid just because the girl happened to be staying in her house. So I was both attracted and deterred at the same time. No wonder I was such a confused lad! In the end I steered clear of the Hews’ house on Saturday, but on Sunday morning I succumbed to temptation and walked over.
Mrs Hews was alone, reading the paper, when I arrived. “Hello, Philip,” she greeted me with all her usual warmth. “Good gracious, is it ten o’clock already ! And those lazy girls are still in bed. I’ll give them a call.” She went to the bottom of the stairs and I heard her shout, “Diane! Sylvia! Time your bottoms were out of those beds unless you want me to come up and get them out myself—and you know what that would mean!”
What did “know what that would mean” indicate? Had the girls really been spanked already? It didn’t seem likely; Diane was a guest after all. And yet the implication was there. No, it was a joke, Sylvia’s mother had an odd sense of humour, as I’ve mentioned. But still… I resigned myself to never knowing.
The girls came downstairs, both wearing just pyjamas. Although it was now autumn, the house was warm and I thought they’d probably decided to come as quickly as possible. Mrs Hews didn’t seem to mind. The girls scowled a bit when they saw me, but said nothing. Mrs Hews put out bowls, milk and packets of cereal. The girls sat and moodily began breakfast.
“Cheer up, kids,” Mrs Hews said with a smile as she put the kettle on. “Pay no attention to them, Philip,” she said to me with undiminished good spirits, “they’re feeling sorry for themselves because I gave them both a good spanking last night.”
“Running round upstairs at midnight! I’d already given them three warnings earlier, which was two more than I should, but then it was off with the pyjamas for a red bottom, wasn’t it Diane?”
Diane’s face blushed as bright red as her bottom must have done and silently glowered at her cornflakes. I glanced at Sylvia. She was looking sullen too, but it can’t have been as bad for her.
“Anyway,” chuckled Sylvia’s mother, “back to breakfast. You can have boiled eggs, Diane. Would you like one or two?”
“Two please’ in this house, young lady! You’ll be getting a lesson in manners if you’re not careful. Remember, your mum said I was to treat you exactly the same as Sylvia while you’re here, and Sylvia’s has had several good spankings in front of Philip, haven’t you, Sylvia?”
“Yes. Erm—yes, Mummy.”
“Good. And how many eggs for you?”
“Two please, Mummy.”
“You see, Diane, even Sylvia has learned the basic rules of polite behaviour. Now, do you like your eggs hard or runny, Diane?”
“Runny,” Diane muttered, and then thought better of defiance and added a mumbled, “please.”
“Hm, you are living dangerously, Diane, but I’ll let you off this time as you are a guest of sorts.” Then she turned to me again. I think she’d decided to punish Diane by embarrassment rather than spanking. “Yes, Philip, there they were, these two naughty girls, running around stealing biscuits when they thought I was asleep—as if anyone could sleep with all the noise they were making! They soon found out how wrong they were when they came back upstairs giggling like a couple of idiots and found me waiting for them on the landing. That soon stopped them in their tracks—not so much giggling then, was there girls?”
The girls stayed silent and showed a concentrated interest in their bowls of cereal. But clearly Mrs Hews was not expecting a response from them because she answered her own question herself.
“No, there wasn’t. I sent them back into their bedroom with a smack each and then confiscated the biscuits—no cake or biscuits for either of you two for the rest of the weekend, by the way. Sylvia knew what to expect so I decided to deal with her first so that Diane here would know what was soon coming her way.
“Shut up telling him!” Diane suddenly muttered.
“Right, that’s it,” Mrs Hews said, taking the pan of boiling water off the stove and putting it safely away. “I will not be spoken to that way, Diane. Stand up and come over here.”
“No!” Diane said defiantly. “You can’t make me!”
“I’d have thought you’d have learnt better than that yesterday, Diane. I took your pyjama trousers down last night and I shall take them down again this morning.”
This was more like it! But what was with this brat? Surely she must know she couldn’t win against Sylvia’s mother. But she was keeping her bottom firmly planted on the seat of her chair and tightly gripping the underside of it. Sylvia was looking on with eager interest—for once she was in the clear. I wondered how Mrs Hews was going to resolve this stand off.
“I think you have been taking advantage of your mother’s pregnancy, Diane, and have been getting away with things too much, especially with your father being away. Sylvia’s daddy is abroad a lot too, but that doesn’t stop me from disciplining her when she needs it.”
All the while she was speaking, Mrs Hews walked around the kitchen table, sometimes in front of Diane and sometimes behind. Diane was looking increasingly nervous. I guessed that she had got herself into this position and now didn’t know how to get herself out of it and the stress was beginning to tell.
“But I understand that your father is more strict with you than your mummy, so no doubt there’ll be some catching up to do when he gets home. I believe the Navy is arranging a seat on a plane so he’ll be able to see your new brother or sister.”
Diane was becoming quite mesmerised by this little speech and the thought of a vengeful father arriving home. I could see that her hands did not grip so tightly as she tried to follow the pacing woman with her eyes.
“Of course, I don’t want to have to add to his troubles—”
Was Sylvia’s mother threatening merely to tell Diane’s father rather than dealing with her herself? I had expected better from her.
Her circuit had taken her behind Diane so that as she said this she was reappearing to the girl’s right eye. Diane had gripped the chair more firmly when Mrs Hews was out of sight, but as she came back into view the child relaxed slightly. Seizing her chance, Sylvia’s mother darted quickly close and pulled her hands from the seat. Having released the girl’s grip, she hauled her upright. After that it was the work only of moments to divest the girl of her pyjama trousers. Next, Mrs Hews sat her own large bottom where Diane’s small cheeks had been and the yelling Diane was stretched out on her tummy over Mrs Hews’ lap, her chubby cheeked bottom perfectly positioned for a sound spanking.
And a sound spanking is just what Diane got. When you consider that Diane’s bottom must still have been tender from her midnight spanking, Mrs Hews really slapped down hard. Experience was making me into something of a connoisseur of chastisement. I noticed that this time Mrs Hews adopted a policy of spanking repeatedly on the same portion of her target so that a hand sized part of Diane’s bottom rapidly turned a burning fiery red. This obviously hurt a good deal and she began yelling straight away , but Diane’s noisy dissent did nothing to persuade Sylvia’s mother to stay her hand. If anything, it had the opposite effect as Mrs Hews angrily ordered Diane to stop making such a noise and emphasized the instruction with even harder smacks to Diane’s bottom cheeks. Naturally, this only made her bawl even louder.
Diane struggled desperately under the onslaught of Mrs Hews’ hand. She tried the trick of putting her own small right hand over her bottom in an attempt to protect it. This was quite futile as Mrs Hews simply gripped her wrist in her own left hand and removed it leaving the target clear again.
Mrs Hews paused and called to Sylvia. I must admit I had been so taken up with the sight of Diane getting her bare bottom spanked that I had quite overlooked the fact that there was another witness. For the first time that I had been a spectator Sylvia herself was not in the line of fire! I noticed that far from being sympathetic to her friend or resentful on her behalf, her face showed only eager glee at her pal’s predicament—much as did my own, I suppose, when she herself was in a similarly perilous situation.
“Sylvia!” Mrs Hews said sharply, “go and fetch me the spatula.”
Sylvia promptly left her seat and went over to a pot in which there was a range of kitchen utensils.
“The big one or the small one?” she asked helpfully. Clearly there was no fellow feeling there enough to persuade her to try to protect her chum.
Sylvia’s mother considered while poor sobbing Diane remained poised across her lap awaiting her fate. “The small one, I think,” came the reply, “unless this insolent girl annoys me any more with her silly screeching, in which case I shall give her something that will really make her wail!”
So Sylvia brought back the small spatula with a look of plain disappointment. All the same, from Diane’s reaction when Mrs Hews applied it to her bottom and thighs, it was no mean instrument of punishment as Diane was soon kicking and crying convincingly. This time Mrs Hews made no complaint at Diane’s noisy reaction to her punishment, but simply continued with it regardless. After some time of spanking, Mrs Hews let Diane go. The girl danced about the kitchen clutching her bare bottom and howling with genuine feeling. After this, Diane was made to stand in the corner, still without her pyjama trousers for ten minutes, after which she was allowed to replace them and she and Sylvia ate their boiled eggs.
Later on in the day, long after the girls had dressed and Diane had
recovered from her spanking enough for even the redness on the backs of
her bare thighs visible under the hem of her skirt to have faded, a phone
called came from the hospital to say that Diane’s mother had given birth
to a baby girl—as it happened, at just about the time Diane was receiving
About a week later there was another post script when Sylvia told me that Diane’s father had indeed been given leave to return to this country to see his new daughter. Unluckily for the daughter he already knew so well, Diane, he heard about her bullying exploits at school and decided to take punitive action.
“He was furious!” Sylvia said, “He told Diane there is nothing lower
or more loathsome than a bully. Then he made her take off her skirt and
knickers and bend over the arm of the settee. After that he really whacked
her bottom with a slipper. Diane said it was a lot, lot worse than when
Mum spanked her over here. And I saw the marks quite a long time after
he’d done it and they were still very red. Diane said her bum was sore
for ages after and she couldn’t sit down comfortably.”
Back to Issue 28
Back to All the Stories