When I was between 8 and 10 years old, I had a babysitter called Mrs Kent. She sat many children in my neighbourhood – working parents used her because she did not charge much, but everyone knew that she was strict and gave spankings on a regular basis.

I witnessed her spank a little girl over her knee and from that point on, I was usually well behaved. I was terrified of spankings as a child – I rarely got spanked at home.

One day, instead of reporting to her house, I played after school till well after 4pm. As I was walking back to her house, I knew I would probably get spanked but I wasn’t sure.

When I was almost at the front door, Mrs Kent opened it and asked: “Where have you been, young man?”

I replied: “I’m sorry, Mrs Kent.” In the 70s, you did not use adult’s first names. Mrs Kent gave me a stern look, walked up to me, took me by the arm and said: “You come with me.”

She led me into the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat, positioned me to her right and immediately undid my pants and pulled my zipper down.

I was already crying when she put me over her knee. For a moment, I was a little relieved she did not pull down my briefs but as soon as I was over her knee she lowered them and immediately started spanking my bare bottom. I think I received around 15-20 spanks. Afterwards, I had to wait in the bedroom until my mom picked me up.

I begged my mom not to let Mrs Kent babysit me anymore and my mom got so tired of my whining that she almost gave me another spanking that night.

Mrs Kent ended up spanking me one more time, about nine months later, and once again I was taken into the bathroom, except for some reason she did not bare my bottom – I think maybe because I was spanked for talking back and that was not serious enough to warrant a bare bottom spanking.