My first spanking was in junior school when I was nine
years old.

The headmistress was probably a very kindly woman, but to us
children she was an old dragon. I had managed to get
chewing gum stuck in my hair, which was shoulder-length. The more I
tugged at it during playtime, the more it became firmly stuck into my
scalp. Eventually I went to the woman who supervised playtime who
marched me to the headmistress.

To say she was annoyed is an understatement. Chewing gum was not
allowed at school. I had to stand still for an eternity while she sat
on an upright chair in front of me, gradually combing and cutting
away my hair to remove the gum, all the while telling me what a
naughty disobedient child I was. Then it was across her knee, skirt
up and my blue knickers down to my knees, for a very firm spanking
with her hand.

I had to explain the strange appearance of my hair that evening to my parents who, though annoyed, took no further action. If they had,
they would no doubt have noticed the rosy glow on my bottom that I
am sure was still in evidence when I went home that afternoon.