An awful lot of spankings down Memory Lane

16Nov12

spanked on the farmI have been deep into research for anecdotes and fresh story ideas. One of which led to a short creative departure for tomorrow’s post.

Then I found another snippet that put me in my mind of something I had read. It was about adult girls being punished on a farm by an uncle or boss and although the details were scant I knew I had read something very like it before.

So after an exhaustive search I came up blank and the snippet being too short I decided to give up and use something from my cuttings files. Hits head with hand – guess what I found.

I have no idea where I took this from but I took it off a portable drive from my other compute back in May. It looks like an experience or life forum clipping and I have edited for sense and to remove references to what may be real people and places. Also the picture above was taken from Tumblr and is not directly related, but it seems to fit.

Down on the Farm

After the post from Kate I thought I would add a word. She said she got spanked in a car while out necking with a boy who was into that sort of thing. And then again by her Dad when she got home.

Then we heard from Mary, another Salopian girl, who also got spanked by her dad.

The mention of Shropshire and all those rural adventures has me wondering. There seems to be an awful lot of spanking down memory lane. I feel sure it must have been the same one that led to a farm I once worked on back in the day.

After a shoplifting incident and pregnancy scare one Easter when I was aged 19, I was packed off to work on a farm. I have no idea if mum knew what it was like, but she had been a Land Girl with the farmer’s wife during the war, so I have a hunch that she did.

The farmer and his wife had a niece and another girl working there and I pretty soon found out that the work was hard and he took no nonsense from anyone. He was not above using his fists to bring his men into line, but for us girls he took another approach.

Whenever we gave him backchat or skived or broke any of his four million little rules he would threaten us with his belt. That meant shut up and don’t cross him.

But being kids we never listened so the three of us, all around the same age, managed to get that belt across our arses time and time again.

I found out all about it on my first night there when his niece ignored a warning at tea time and had to stand up drop her working trousers and knickers and bend over a kitchen chair for a good hiding with her uncles belt across her bare bottom. This happened right in front of us, but I could see she didn’t hesitate.

By the end of several good licks of his belt she was crying and was sent to bed afterwards. It was funny and scary at the same time, but I didn’t do much to heed the warning.

Mr T, the farmer, had two ways of punishing us. The quick way for minor offences was what I had witnessed that first night. The other way was altogether worse and much more embarrassing.

For big stuff we had to take off our overalls so that we were bare below the waist. He was really specific and odd about that. We weren’t to let anyone see our fronts and if we had something long in front so much the better. He was the same about our breasts. But our bare bottoms were fair game and he didn’t care who saw us.

“No different than a boy,” he would say, which was ridiculous. And anyway he didn’t handle the boys that way as I said.

Anyway we had to get undressed in the kitchen while his wife stood over us to make sure we didn’t ‘show off’ and then we had to cross the yard to the little barn no matter who was around.

The men would call out and catcall if they were around and to be fair so did I if one of the other two were up for it, although sometimes it was all three of us at once. Luckily, most of the time though the men were out in the fields.

So picture it, bare bum hanging out in the yard and walking to the barn for a good belting.

Once there we had to bend over anything handy and take a long hard licking until we were good and sorry.

Then we had to go back to the kitchen and get dressed again.

There was one small difference. When his niece got it, which was most often, she had to go back to the house and stand and face the wall in the parlour for a while without being allowed to get dressed.

The other girl and I didn’t have to do this unless we were punished with the niece or all three of us got it together and then we all had to face the wall in the parlour. It was so embarrassing.

Normally I would hurry across the yard and back again. But when I had to face the wall, Mr T was often there and so sometimes was one or more of his farmhands. It was even worse if there were other visitors around, which mercifully only happened to me once.

Punishments usually happened at the end of the day on our own time so we often stood there a good long while.

Tough but happy days and I came out of it a better person when I finally went home.

*

Well that was a neat little tale, whether true or not, you decide.



3 Responses to “An awful lot of spankings down Memory Lane”

  1. 1 paul1510

    Damian.
    a nice little story, but I suspect, a dream. 😉
    Paul.

  2. 2 saucywriter

    Hello Damian, and thank you for this delightful little story! My apologies, too, for being absent from your marvellous blog for too long – I did consider ‘unlurking’ but I am already ‘unlurked, even though I rarely make comments nowadays. You blog goes from strength to strength and long may it continue to do so – it is amazing to find such a hot AND literate site among quite a lot of dross.

    As to this particular tale; I don’t think it matters a hoot whether or not it is true – it did what I hoped it would – give me a thrill – and it did that well enough!

    Thanks to the author and to you, Damian. Best wishes, take care …

    sw

    • 3 DJ

      There is nothing like a good tale – as they say – when the legend is better than the truth – print the legend 😉


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