My parents hardly ever used corporal punishment when I was growing up, but I do remember one memorable spanking I got from my father in the mid-1990s, when I was nine years old.

My mom had fallen ill with glandular fever and had taken to her bed for a few days, leaving Dad to look after me and my little brother. He never did this very often, being away on business a lot, and although he did his best, he did struggle.

I, on the other hand, chose this exact same period to get all pissy about life. I always hated change and any disruption to normal family life ticked me off royally. For two days, and with Dad showing great forbearance, I was crotchety, ungrateful and downright disrespectful.

Finally, I mouthed off over the lunch Dad had done his best to prepare for us kids (while of course still looking after Mom too) – and it suddenly became obvious that I had pushed one too many of his buttons.

He stood up at the table and looked me straight in the eye. “That’s it – I’ve had it up to here with your behaviour. You can come upstairs with me.”

Without another word he came round the table, grabbed me by the hand and marched me upstairs to my bedroom. “What are you doing?” I wailed as I was more or less dragged along. “I’m seeing what a sore bottom will do, that’s what I’m doing, young lady!”

Before I could reply, I was in my bedroom and Dad slammed the door behind us. He knelt down in front of me and to my horror, I realised he was taking my jeans down. “No, Daddy!” Dad ignored me and swiftly followed my jeans with my panties.

“Lie back on the bed.”

“Please, Daddy!”

“I said, lie back on the bed.”

He more or less pushed me down on my bed, face up, and before I could protest any further, he wrapped his strong left arm around my ankles and raised my legs in the ‘diaper’ position.

Then he began to spank me. It was the most comprehensive spanking I ever had and it burned like fire. Smack after smack landed on my upturned bare butt and quite a few of Dad’s slaps also caught my vulva too. I yelled and cried like a toddler as he spanked me, then without warning he let go of my legs and they bounced against the mattress. Then he left, ordering me to stay in my room for the rest of the afternoon.

I turned over and lay there on my bed, still bare-bottomed, crying my eyes out. My tears were not just for my spanking, but also because Dad had seen my girl parts – I was totally humiliated. The next few days were just as miserable but I fortunately managed to avoid a further tanning.