(gap: 2s) In the heart of Liverpool, during the gentle days of the late 1960s, there lived three sisters—myself, Laura, and my younger siblings, Lily and Alice. Our home was filled with laughter, learning, and the loving guidance of our dear mother, who believed that children should grow up to be kind, respectful, and well-mannered.
(short pause) As all children do, we sometimes found it difficult to behave as we ought. It was only a fortnight after my first lesson in proper conduct that I found myself facing another important moment of learning.
One chilly morning, Mother took us to the shops for our weekly groceries. Lily, who was only four, was in a playful mood and began to pinch my arm, giggling all the while. I asked her to stop, but she continued, and at last, I pinched her back. Lily burst into tears, and the mischief was discovered.
Mother, who did not approve of naughtiness in public, fixed us both with a look that brooked no argument. With a swift, practiced motion, she gently but firmly lifted the side of Lily’s dress, exposing her little legs to the cold air. In one smooth movement, Mother delivered a sharp, stinging slap to the back of Lily’s thigh. The sound echoed, and Lily’s giggles turned to a startled wail. Before I could even protest, Mother turned to me, her eyes full of disappointment and resolve. She lifted my skirt as well, and I felt the brisk chill on my skin just before her hand landed with a crisp smack on my bare leg. The sting was immediate—hot, bright, and impossible to ignore. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I bit my lip, trying not to cry out in the busy shop.
We both cried a little, for the sting was sharp, but Mother’s words were sharper still. She knelt down to our level, her voice low and serious: “If I hear another word, or if there is any more quarrelling, I shall be obliged to take off my slipper and smack your bare bottoms right here in front of everyone. Do you understand?” Her warning was clear as a bell, and the mention of her slipper—a dreaded instrument of discipline in our home—made us shiver with dread. We nodded, rubbing our legs and promising to be good, the threat of the slipper lingering in our minds
Mother had threatened to smack our bottoms lots of times in the past and never done it – but I now knew from personal experience that it was a real possibility.
We were all good girls until we got back Into the car. Once home , Mother was putting shopping away and Lily was watching her favourite cartoon in the living room. I went in and turned the TV over to another channel. Lily began crying and told me to put it back on. I refused and she screamed.
At that, Mother came in to the room and ordered me to turn the TV channel back immediately. I refused, so she began counting to three, warning me that this was my last chance to obey before being sent to bed. The threat of such a punishment made me angry and I threw the remote, which hit Lily hard.
Mother walked over to me, bent down and said: “I have had enough of this behaviour, so now you are going to get a smacked backside, just like last time.”
“No, mummy, no!” I screamed. “Please – no! I’m really sorry.” Mother took me by the top of my arm and walked me over to the armchair. I then realised she was going to smack me in front of Lily. I was begging her and crying loudly, as I was desperate not to be smacked like before.
I collapsed to the floor and sat on my Bottom in the hope Mother would not be able to reach it or might yet change her mind. Instead, she just grabbed the tops of my arms, lifted me up and placed me over one of her legs.
Mother landed a really sharp slap to my right Bottom cheek. The smack made me squeal and I tried to turn over on her lap to evade further punishment. Mother held me tightly and simply waited a while before giving me my second smack. It was administered to exactly the same place as the first, which really made me cry and kick.
Mother gave me another five smacks , and all the while I could see Lily on the sofa with her eyes wide – she had never seen a spanking before.
Mother’s next move was to proceeded to smack my bottom sharply another six times.
When she considered I’d had enough, Mother finally lifted me off her lap.
Mother turned to Lily: “Take notice of that! Next time you’re naughty, I will smack your bottom just like that as well!” Lily put her bottom lip out and look worried.
I was then ordered upstairs to go to bed until dinner. I ran out of the living room, crying hard.
Once upstairs, I lay down on my bed, still crying quietly until the soreness subsided. I knew for sure that from now, the consequence of naughtiness was going to be a sore bottom. going to be a sore bottom.
