The Spanking Writers

Yesterday’s slippering post has drawn a few comments, from “slippers are weird” to “slippers are hot”, and I feel the need to give my perspective.*

The slipper and its relative, the plimsoll, are not my favourite implements just because they are so damn painful. “So what?” I hear you ask. “Tawses and belts are painful. Canes are painful. Haribrushes are painful.” That’s right, and I like tawses and belts a lot less than I like the slipper, which is why I said it wasn’t my favourite, rather than that it was my least favourite.

The slipper has lots of advantages, which make it one of the hottest implements to fantacise about, to imagine other people get, etc.

Top 5 Reasons Haron Likes the Slipper:

1. It’s authentic for school scenes. It belongs in a school scene. I know people who’d been slippered at school. And I like school scenes.
2. Unlike the cane and the tawse, it’s a hell of a lot easier to aim, due to not being whippy. I’ve never heard of a slipper landing somewhere it hasn’t been aimed.
3. A slipper is all “thud” and little “sting”. I like “thud”.
4. It looks really hot laid across a round bottom encased in bottle-green school knickers, preparing to strike.
5. You can slipper somebody really fast, which makes them reach the state of “Oh My God” (identified by the culprit hanging limply over your knee) that much quicker.

Come to think of it, that last one can also been seen as a disadvantage.

Top 5 Reasons Haron Is Apprehensive About the Slipper:

1. When you get slippered really fast (impossible to do safely with other school-specific implements – a cane or a tawse) holding on to a degree of control is completely impossible. As part of said control is the ability to keep down the noise, the slipper is, therefore, not very neighbour-friendly.
2. It’s really bloody painful! (I can’t emphasize this enough. It is. Very painful.)
3. It may be hard for a top to judge just how painful the slipper is, because it looks fairly harmless. It’s imperative that you let the top know by every verbal and non-verbal communication method in your collection the impact of each individual thwack.
4. Thick rubber creates little raised blisters surprisingly quickly, and knocking heads off them can draw blood. I don’t get unduly freaked by bleeding, but it does put a stop to any further play, even if you’ve only just started, and it hasn’t actually started to hurt that much.
5. Man, are those freaking’ things *ever* painful!!

However, if you’re lucky, you may get cool tread marks. (I did once, before Abel – sorry, sweetie, I don’t believe that’s possible any more; that train’s done departed now.)

So there you are. Make your own conclusions, really; as you can see, I haven’t quite made up my mind on the issue of slippers, other than they are hot, and also painful.

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*Not the need need, you understand, just something I feel like writing about for the next few minutes.

I’ve just unearthed a fascinating thread about the slipper on a discussion board. Jo describes the punishment procedure when her school Deputy Head administered slipperings:

Once informed you were to receive 6 of the slipper you had to change into your P.E. shorts (no pants) then touch your toes, then he always took his jacket off which seemed to take forever, he would then touch your bottom with the slipper to take aim, WHACK the first stroke landed instantly bringing tears to your eyes, after 3 you could not talk, after 6 your head would spin! after you had stopped gasping you had to thank him! For many one visit was all that was needed, it was far worse than 6 of the cane administered on the hands.

Haron’s glaring in my direction, as if daring me to experiment with Jo’s hypothesis. Six with the cane on her hands then six with the slipper on her backside. Measuring which was more effective. Publishing the results for our readers’ delectation.

Jane, meanwhile, was educated twenty-odd years later when corporal punishment “hadn’t quite gone out of style”.

I remember one case where a girl in the year above me definitely got the slipper – she vandalised a bike belonging to another girl, damaging the brakes on purpose so badly that the girl came off her bike on the way home…

It was deemed to be such a serious offence that the whole school was told about what she had done at school assembly and how she was punished (no details of course, just “she got the slipper”) – she was still suspended while we were told what had happened, so at least she was spared the embarrassment of that Assembly.

Plimsoll or slipper, I wonder?

You know this common spanking fantasy, where an offender – rather than serve a small-time sentence, pay for a traffic ticket etc – submits to a spanking instead? (“Please, officer, couldn’t you punish me in some other way? Like, spank me, maybe?”)

Well, the police chief in Warren, OH decided to run a whole “diversion program” for young offenders, in which “clients were spanked for infractions”. Yesterday they were still figuring out his criminal sentence.

I wonder if it’ll be a judicial paddling?

A call last week from a colleague, pleading for assistance. He’s running an away-day for his team next month: would I mind helping with some of the coaching?

Happy to store up favours requiring future reciprocation, I agreed. The note popped into my inbox later in the day from his PA, comfirming my role as a ‘mentor’ for the event.

Little do they realise that that particular term has entirely different connotations in the circles in which I move! I wonder if I’ll be allowed to deploy any traditional techniques?

Rather naughtily, I then sneaked a peak at a pack of PowerPoints for the course, that had been abandoned next to a printer. It seems that the opening exercise is to include that old training cliche,

“Tell the other attendees something that none of them could know about you.”

OK, where to start?

“I want to cane Jenny”, the cutest member of his team?

“I spank my wife”?

“I write a naughty blog”?

I’ve spent the last couple of days getting a number of very short, very painful spankings. Each individual one wouldn’t really merit writing about, but as a whole they have been kind of building up. Abel is going away on business today, and just as well, because I’m sure that if he didn’t, I’d be getting more of these “what are you complaining about, you wimp” spankings.

Firstly, there was my etiquette test. This must have been the most boring chapter ever: clothes and “image management”. You would have thought it would be exciting, but really it kept going on about the teeny aspects of a girl’s wardrobe that I can’t ever imagine needing to consult – never mind have committed to memory, never mind try to imagine what they would sound like when Abel turns them into test questions.

(Question: What are the two things a girl should remember to do if she risks applying fake tan at home? Answer: Exfoliate and moisturise. Chance of me ever applying fake tan, at home or otherwise: zero.)

Anyway, I got two questions out of ten wrong, mostly because of being unable to stay even relatively awake by the time I got to the last two pages of the chapter. (What are some of the uses for a square piece of cloth? Hair accessory, scarf, SOS banner, sarong. How long may a girl’s dress be at a black tie event? At the shortest, it may skim the knee.)

“Take your jeans down and bend over the arm of the sofa,” said Abel, trying to sound stern. “I’m going to spank you with my most severe implement.”

His hand, you understand.

Oh my goodness, did those two smacks ever hurt! The first one felt more like a punch; he must have swung his arm way back; I could feel it deep in the muscle of my bottom for the rest of the evening. The second one wasn’t as extreme, but it was still a damned painful whack.

And then there was yesterday morning, when I got spanked for – I’m not sure what, but it might have been for the crime of having a bottom, and standing around with only some French knickers on while I was brushing my hair in the morning.

So, I’m minding my own business (damp hair), when Abel swoops into the bedroom, sees me and says something along the lines of: “Well, if you show off your bottom like that…” He grabs my Mason Pearson hairbrush, pushes me over the bed, and wallops me with it about two dozen times.

It stings. A lot. Hairbrushes tend to.

So that was that: random, unprovoked acts of violence in the home, and he seemed mighty pleased with himself after all that.

Awaiting a friend at a railway station. Her text message flashes up: “Think we’re a few minutes late.”

“One swat for every minute’s delay.” (I’m fair like that).

So I wait, and the train duly rolls in – four minutes EARLY. I text her, knowing she’ll have a long walk alng the platform: “No, it doesn’t work that you give me four swats for being early.”

Quick as a flash: “4 stroke credit though! To be used at my discretion!”

I look up, just as her beaming face appears before me. “But of course. I shall remember your credit. The next time I give you a traditional ten of the best.”

The founder of Liverpool College, Reverend Conybeare, had very practical views on the implementation of corporal punishment policy in his school, according to D. Wainwright’s “Liverpool Gentlemen. A History of Liverpool College”:

Gentle himself, he disapproved of the corporal punishment that had been doled out vigorously twenty years earlier, and was still the general mode of punishment in most establishments. He proposed to run the schools without recourse to it, imagining that this would be comparatively easy in the Upper school and worth trying in the Middle and Lower.

“But at the same time,” he went on, “it would be very unwise to publish any formal declaration of this intention: no boy should have the power of taunting any master (as has sometimes been known) with his not having the right to strike him.”

The punishments recommended were “confinement during play hours”* and extra work.

* A small room was set apart for “confinement” somewhere in the lower regions of the school. But boys carried home such vivid accounts of their incarceration in this dungeon of “cage” that parents protested. For years, however, the punishment book was kept in a cupboard in this “cage”.

I can just see the advertising slogans posted all over the town:

“Liverpool College: because a cage is the best place for your child!”

So, Irish rockers U2 decide to release their a compliation. They call it ’18 Singles’, since (as you may be able to predict) it comprises their 18 best singles.

However, as the BBC News site comments:

“Brilliantly, the UK version of the CD has a bonus track – which instantly renders the album’s title nonsensical.”

I’m picturing a young female executive at their record company, spread-eagled over the boadroom table for a whipping this afternoon.

Henceforth, whenever I give a girl “six of the best”, I think I should include a bonus stroke.

…says he, reflecting momentarily on a rather intense scene this past weekend when a young lady’s defiant attitude resulted in her six being of the *very* best, as she was held in position.

I believe that for at least two hours today I was entirely, completely vanilla. I haven’t had any kinky thoughts at all. For a whole two hours, and maybe more.

That was because I was tired. When I’m tired, I can summon up only marginal interest in spanking. I suppose, a particularly juicy startle will cause a mild twitch of my mouth and a disinterested ‘Oh…’, but I wouldn’t expect any more reaction than that.

Luckily, even a short rest is enough to fix me.

The longest I’ve ever felt completely vanilla was about three months, which was a result of a bad case of flu. Even after the illness was gone, spanking was not a subject I cared to think about, never mind act on. I knew intellectually that something was missing, but I didn’t mind that it was gone: it was as though I’d taken a vanilla pill.

The interest returned very gradually, in almost the precise order that my spanking kink had developed in the first place: school and father/daughter fantasies first, then grown-up scenarios, then other, edgier themes.

Have any of you experienced anything like this? How has it felt to be in the vanilla world?

As a taxpayer, I’m always pleased when I see examples of our money being spent on worthwhile causes – such as the Department for International Development’s 2005 report on school experiences in Botswana and Ghana. Their findings on Katsir ‘B’ School were particularly worth funding:

Katsir JSS was a high performing urban school originally founded by British and Ghanaian Methodists in 1858. In 1991 the school was divided into two different schools ‘A’ and ‘B’, occupying different parts of the same two-storey building but with a completely different management and staff. The school was located in a middle class residential area about 50 metres from the sea, surrounded by several nationally renowned educational institutions. Many students lived outside the locality. Parents worked in a wide range of occupations, including professionals (doctors, teachers), carpenters, traders and farmers. Their mothers tended to have low paid jobs. In educational terms, the questionnaire sample indicated that 30% of the fathers had university education compared to 8.3% of the mothers.

OK, so doubtless lots of bright, intelligent young ladies there, well-motivated at home. Perfect for my interests. Let’s see what our intrepid British civil servants uncovered on their holiday at the taxpayers’ expenses. (Sorry, important working trip).

In interviews, teachers claimed to praise and punish equally, although the mode and intensity was sometimes different. The head added that the use of corporal punishment, usually administered by male teachers, was not a frequent practice in the school. Most of the caning that was administered did not exceed six lashes and thus was not recorded in the Discipline Book.

From the students’ perspective caning had a negative effect… Others described the disturbing effect of caning on their studies. When a girl was caned in front of the whole school for fighting she said, ‘…after this, coming to school was difficult.’ Another reported that when she was caned for non-payment of school fees, ‘…I felt like never coming to school again.’

Yet another girl put it this way: ‘When I am afraid I will be caned, I find it difficult to come to school’. For other female and male students, their most embarrassing days in school were when they got caned for various offences. Girls in particular disliked corporal punishment, which they were subject to by the teachers and prefects.

In summary, this was a high performing school with low drop out.

The incongruity of the final sentence made me smile, as if the British government officials were somehow trying to establish a link between their previous paragraphs and their conclusion. (Was the report secretly commissioned by the old guard in the UK education department, I wonder?). And how interesting that punishment of six strokes or less are not deemed serious enough to be recorded in the Discipline Book. The look on a girl’s face when the Headmaster tells her that she’s to be punished and reaches for said tome can only be imagined.

I fancy being a civil servant: I need a team to work with me at high salaries and on lavish expenses accounts to investigate caning techniques in Asia. Any candidates out there?