She turned on the TV and sat down, looking for all the world like a regular mum. Only she and I knew that five minutes earlier she had paddled my bottom good and sore. I countered by saying that I was too old to be spanked, and asked what would happen if I simply refused to submit to the punishment, as she wasn’t my parent nor my teacher. This was actually very untypical and rather daring of me – but Aunt Pam simply said that I was most certainly not too old to be spanked. “Boys are at their naughtiest in their teens – they need more spanking rather than less as they get older!” she said. I held out my hand, albeit with a dollop of attitude, but Aunt Pam said: ““You silly boy! I’m not going to cane your hands – there’s far too much risk of injury, especially as you play the piano. There’s only one place God has decreed that naughty boys should be punished, and that’s on the bottom.”

In due time, this joyous fact would be shared with parish ladies as they discussed the merits and joys of bottoms bare and spanking matters, over each other’s knee as it turned out, on Wednesday nights at Ladies Group. But that was for the near future. There and then, in real time, there was some proper action due. Whap! Shit! That stung – one swat, and it stung that much! And this woman was messing around – what the hell would it feel like if I really had misbehaved and she was serious? Perhaps the boys hadn’t been bigging it up after all! One early morning fair, whilst out for a walk, Penny and Tasha strolled past the church. As oft they did when Tasha was home on leave. I stepped up to it and bent forward – at a stretch, I could just reach the far side. I was on tiptoe and, as it was really warm weather, I was wearing only thin shorts! “Like this?” I asked. “Aha – spread your legs a little wider.” I then felt her hand run over my bottom briefly. She gave my shorts a little tug to pull them tight, then patted my behind a few times gently with her hand. “Perfect!” I heard her say. Every week for many a year, Friday night to be exact, time of the Frobisher family spank. She would preside, magisterially, for all to see through kitchen window the panorama. Over her lap, hems, trousers and panties down, bottoms bare in the air receiving the benison of spanking palm, the household would go – including anyone else to hand. Now all right thinking followers of spank know the old saying that “all is fair when bottoms are bared and spankers are spanked, and all shall be well”. Mrs F followed this through. When she was done, her own cheeks were roasted and toasted in their turn, by the assembled company. It was quite a sight to see. Penny as neighbour had a first-class seat, over the garden fence.There is always a rather rowdy, ribald crowd, with plump bare bottomed lasses on their knees giggling. The majority are plump older women, with ‘their girl’. We go and sit, she is about to start a tale….not verse, not poetry, but something akin to Chaucer, and his Canterbury tales. Yes. Yes, I do,” I blurted after only a short pause, sensing a slight twitch in the paddle resting on my hypersensitive behind. Well, that boyish bare which was ivory white soon started turning pink. As Mrs F spanked so she instructed, she just couldn’t help it: “now Vicar, its all about rhythm and flow, rhythm and flow, varying speed, altering pace, alternate cheeks. Raising the hand half-way – crash it down – the hand full way – wallop! – Now a flurry, now three, one on each cheek, one in the crease, a hammer hand, an open palm, now six hard to finish”. Lucille left it to me, along with a complete, and I do mean complete, description of the relationship she had with you for the past few years. In addition to her business, she requested I take over other matters in her absence. The original of this document, in your handwriting, was left to me to use as I saw fit to ensure you did not revert to your old, bad habits. After seeing how you’ve dishonored my sister’s memory by letting her home turn into a pigsty, I’m sorely tempted to just send copies of it to your boss and everyone else you know and be done with it… and with you.”

As we emerged into the kitchen area I asked her: “How many swats did the other boys get?”“Oh, I dunno. A couple got two and a one got three, I think. Mind you, they got real swats – not love taps like you!” She pushed my head playfully to one said, laughed and walked off. We’ll see,” Vera said. “Perhaps if you are very, very obedient from now on, I’ll save you that disgrace. Still,” she added, “you can’t be let off scot-free. Fetch me Lucille’s paddle,” she demanded, sternly. “It’s time I got to work.” Well what a tour de force. In minutes that man without his cloth had gone from white to deepest red. Tasha could hardly stop herself from blurting “hooray, well done!”. Now Vicar was a chap and it was evident that lying over the lap his nature-given ‘hood had grown somewhat. Mrs F had foreseen this and carefully placed it between her legs as she had spanked away – imagine the scene without difficulty – which of course had rubbed it. The delights of a spanking for a chap is that he can get pleasure at two ends, which has a result, put delicately. Now Mrs F knew all this – of course she did – being a woman of not just a few summers and a matriarch to boot. Which is why she firmly believed that a chap who submitted to the indignity should occasionally have his reward. She kept a flannel nearby, said whilst reviewing her own handiwork “don’t worry Vicar, I’ll mop up and all will be well with the world. She reached down and very discreetly tugged a bit more. For long experience of boys and men she knew ‘better in than out’. To ‘clear the gunwales’ was, she thought, in every respect a very healthy thing.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. The two families are still great friends, and we visit each other quite regularly. I have never mentioned anything about that day since to Val, although I’ve always wanted to ask if she was just messing about. I suspect I’ll never get a straight answer. As far as I know, nobody knew anything about that paddling except us two. I certainly didn’t mention it to anyone.