The next was so hard I was thrown forward and any illusion was shattered. I was still, unmistakably, being spanked. The last one landed with as much force as any of the others. The slipper had left the skin of my bottom feeling like I’d held it close to a fire for ten minutes.
I have only a dim memory of my dad giving me permission to stand. I slouched up to my room and closed the door to have a good cry.
Half an hour later, my brother knocked and I put a dressing gown on and let him in. He’d brought me some sweets and we hugged. I told him about the slippering and he told me, for the first time, what his second one had been like. He told me his bottom had been so sore he’d been unable to sit for two days. We agreed that we would try to make it the last time the dreaded black slipper