We weren’t too crazy about the humiliating aspect of having our bottoms and , either, though as we were a large family, all the children born close together, we were relatively used to seeing each other’s getting ready for bed etc. But there was something about the ritual of having your bottom smacked by Mother which made it a lot more embarrassing, I guess because you were going to get a spanking once your clothing had been adjusted.

This was the 1950s and my Mother commonly wore a soft cotton floral apron around the house most of the day, and I distinctly remember, when bottomed, the feeling of the warm fabric brushing against my tummy as I twisted around on her lap under the spanking. Mother was a highly efficient spanker and she showed no mercy when it came your time to be chastised. Boy or girl, you were left with a very sore butt and in floods of tears.

However, there would be so much love shown after the spanking that in some ways you didn’t mind so much that your bottom was on fire. Mother would sit you on her lap and cuddle you , stroking your hair and gently talking to calm you down. If we had been given the spoon bottomed, she would leave our underwear down for a while after the spanking and lovingly cuddle your smacked butt with her hand as you had your cry.