I wasn’t a country boy, so I wasn’t really aware of the danger that could lurk in that creek. Peter was naturally more cautious, but I basically talked him and Tom into going for a swim but questioning their courage. Eventually I ground them down. We didn’t want to come home in wet clothes (something told me this was something which would not be permitted by parental authority), so all three of us stripped naked and waded in. The water wasn’t as cool as I had expected but it certainly helped on such a hot sweaty day.

I had my head turned to my right, and could look into Tom’s eyes as we both wept and cried at every stroke of the cane. Peter was just a bawling mess. It seemed to go on forever but it was probably only a minute or so. Eventually it just stopped. Aunt Lindy grabbed Peter and led him, bum striped and howling, to his own room. “Straight to bed!” was heard when they got there. I was a bit fascinated by this, particularly never having really been spanked in anger for many years, and I tried to drill Peter for details of what was involved but he was obviously very reluctant to talk about it. “Just behave yourself,” was his final word on it. I remember actually grinning and not really taking her seriously, and yet feeling quite excited, with a combination of disbelief and adrenalised elation! I asked her if it was true that she’d caned her Rory across his bare bottom, but she just told me that it was none of my business – what was my business right now was my own behaviour.

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Your parents and I agreed it might be time for you to benefit from just such treatment, and nothing I have seen today has changed my mind. Infact the power of your epiphany convinces me that such a course of action will be well received, and particularly effective. Consequently, before you leave me, and as I believed you were forewarned, I am going to give you a small taste of old school correction.’ Think nothing of it, and get those pants down too. Then bend forward over the table and hold the edges as far forward as you can reach. Your reaction is more common than you may realise, and changes nothing at all.’ They always called Dad Junior, since he was named after his Daddy. I wondered since I was named after my Daddy, should I be called "Third"? When we entered the room, there was a large double bed for my parents, and a......I couldn't believe it! A white CRIB, covered with pink bunnies and of course, pink nursery printed sheets.

Then I heard her trot out this little ditty. “Spank a boy and do it right, trousers down, pants up tight. And if he smiles when he should frown, then spank him with his pants right down.” With that, Aunt Pam pulled my jeans down, exposing my underpants. My face was now near to the floor and I remember clearly the smell of the carpet, mixed with tobacco smoke as Doreen lit up a cigarette. I awoke in the middle of the night. It was dark, and I realized I was trapped in the crib...and i had to go pee.....really bad. I wondered for a moment about calling out to my mother to let me out, then realized something. I was wearing a diaper. What would it feel like to just wet it, like a real baby? I might as well put it to good use! Meanwhile, I was realizing that this didn't feel half bad, and was struggling inwardly with the fact that this was a punishment. My mother finished diapering me, then said, "Now you go out to the living room, and tell everyone goodnight." Yes – painful. Very painful. I am going to administer your beating as hard as I can, to make sure it has the desired effect. Many have been here before you, and all have survived. None have died. Remember that, as you strain against the discomfort. Start your journey of improvement by accepting the strokes and the pain with grace and stoicism.’My intuition tells me that you are not a bad child. However, everyone needs nudging in the right direction occasionally. What is going to follow could be thought of as just such a nudge.’ As a teenager I always used to spend about ten days each year with Cousin Clare and her parents. Clare wasn’t actually my cousin, but her mother and my mother were at school together, and it was a convenient way to refer to her. Clare was an only child. I want you to sleep in your uniform tonight so you get used to it." "Yes Aunt Christine." I replied. I could feel the swats to my rear. I had my underpants for cover though. I was determined not to let her get the best of me. I just lay still and let her spank me. After a few minutes, however my rear was starting to feel a little warm. I didn't like the feeling at all and started to squirm. A few minutes later the swats stopped. 'That wasn't bad. I can handle this' I thought. I moved to get up, but was pushed down again. I could hear the firm voice of my aunt.

I was crying pathetically after just 3 more swats. After what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than five minutes, she asked again. This time I said "Yes." She stood me up and brought me the shirt. I did find the atmosphere of spanking that was around in every facet of cultural life quite exciting; forbidden, terrifying, and yet intriguing. At my primary school I was once sent to the headmaster for playfully spanking a girl’s bottom – but instead of getting the cane (which is what usually happened if you were sent to the head) he just scooped me up in one movement, slapped my behind three times and told me to never to do that again. I was otherwise a model pupil, so I guess I’d earned some credit points. At this point I was aware that I was quite erect. I didn’t know what to think about that, but it was extremely embarrassing and I could feel my cheeks burning, She watched as I fumbled with the belt and buttons, before slowly sliding them down. Now she could see my inexplicable excitement. I knew she was looking at it. My second great desire in this weird and shadowy dimension was to be spanked myself by a stern, no-nonsense older female. This was kindled in me by Aunt Pam, with the help of her friend Doreen, who lived with her. I won't call you 'Dan'. You will always be 'Danny'. 'Danny' is a child's name, that is what you are, is it not?"No non­sense CP( Cane/Tawse/Strap — no role play nospe­cif­ic dress­ing up) or role-play ses­sion ( headmistress/Boss/Prison offi­ceretc) I was 12 when I was sent to spend part of the summer at my uncle and aunt’s house in rural Queensland, Australia. I was a city boy, born and bred and in Brisbane, and my parents were typical of the 1980s progressive Aussie middle class of the time.

I obeyed. It was difficult, but I put it on. She then put the tie on me, knowing that I couldn't do it myself yet. She took hold of my chin and looked me in the eye. “You’ve got the face of an angel and hands that are a gift from God. Now let’s see if you’ve got a nice little bottom that the Lord made for spanking, shall we? Take your trousers down!” At the time of the following exciting adventure we were sixteen, but I was a few months older than she was. This is the second time this week you’ve failed to memorize your Bible lesson,” Aunt Connie said. “Perhaps a whipping will help you concentrate.” Oh, sorry,” she said. She relaxed her grip. “Is that better?” She gave it a little rub, and I just gulped, and nodded ‘yes!’So, to business. Your parents are not happy with the way things are. Specifically, they do not think you are behaving in the mature fashion we would expect of a young adult your age.’ I hadn’t thought about it before, but today was becoming revelatory I terms of how clearly I was now seeing …