When I was in my early teens (in the early 1960s), my mother was required to move out of town for employment and it was determined that I would stay with my aunt. I cannot say that I was overjoyed at first as she was older and seemed stern (how right I was!) but I really had no choice. Little did I know that it would be the beginning of a real ‘spanking adventure’.

I had had my heinie spanked by my mother, but not like what was to come. I had been living with my aunt for about 10 days when I was late for dinner. I apologised but I could tell that she was not appeased. After dinner, she told me to take my shower and come to her room after drying off. I was specifically instructed to leave my pyjamas in my room.

I bathed with great trepidation but knew that I would only delay the inevitable. I dried off and walked slowly to my aunt’s bedroom. When I arrived, she was seated on her vanity chair with an evil-looking paddle in her hand. She was wearing only her girdle and her brassiere.

My aunt called me over to her side, and I had to stand before her and get a lecture on my behaviour. After about five minutes, she laid me over her lap. She placed her arm around my waist and commenced to lay the paddle on with a vengeance.

No matter how much I squirmed, I was still subjected to the stinging rain until I tearfully counted 50 licks from the paddle. By the time my aunt told me to get up and stand in the corner I was beet red and swearing my eternal apologies to her. After 15 minutes, she called me from the corner and again laid me again over her lap – fortunately, this time it was only to examine her handiwork.

As I tearfully rose, she hugged me and kissed me. She told me that she was only trying to keep me on the “right path” and loved me. I had to thank her for the spanking and was then allowed to go to bed. I did not sit comfortably for several days.