Jack Tar and the Jenny WRNR
To return to an old favourite I just came across an old WW2 Royal Navy anecdote about a woman called Jenny who served in the Women’s Royal Navy Reserve during that war. I had meant to publish before my sabbatical of a couple of years back. Not sure of its source now, or indeed its veracity, but for what it is worth here it is.
Further to the account about the caning of women sailors in the Royal Navy. My Aunt Jenny served in a small naval establishment in the West Country (England) during the war. I am honestly not sure what rank she held but I do know that she worked with a small team tracking and filing communications linked to the Atlantic monitoring of U-Boats in some way. She never really talked about the military side of things.
She did tell me about the grizzled old officer who was her commander fed up to the back teeth, as she told it, with a lot frivolous young women late on duty and coming late back from the town after a visit to the pub. She said anyone caught out of line was called to his office for a rollicking and quite often a ‘good hiding.’
I was shocked, but she told it as a ribald tale and always laughed about it. She said if they were lucky they would just get a spanking – swats on the seat of the skirt with a plimsoll while bending over. On at least one occasion she got a bare-bottomed spanking over his knee with a short piece of wood. “A thorough affair,” she said, that always left a girl sobbing and with a very red bottom. I gather she wasn’t the only one.
More often, she said, it was the cane. Up to 30 strokes while bent over a desk, always on the bare, and usually with a witness. Jenny told me that she lost count of the number of times she got a good hiding in this way, and apart from the first time, when she got 12, she never got less than 24.
“It was completely embarrassing and meant to be,” she told me. A funny look would come over her, sort of wistful. She told the same stories often and always like they were fond memories.
She and two friends were once caught climbing a barbed wire fence late back from town. Her friend tore her skirt badly and she admitted they were drunk. All three got hauled in to see the old man the next day and each got 30 hard strokes, all on the bare bottom as usual. Jenny said she couldn’t sit down for two or three days after.
From the way she talked it all sounded quite routine and often fairly informal.
Ruth T, Salisbury
That, folks is all I know about this account.
Here is more on this here and a perhaps prescient story here along similar lines.
Filed under: articles, history, military, real life, spanking | 2 Comments
Tags: navy, spanking, wrens
Community
It is as quiet in Spankland as I am busy. Next week I am away and most of the posts will be queued up, such as they are. I have been busy clearing the decks for work so less posts this week.
Oaks and Pines have role play and Ronnie has a list of new spanking blogs and sites to enjoy.
Other images found at: AAA, Dallas, Grumpy Old Fart, Devlin, and Contemporary Spanking.
Filed under: spanking, web round-up, Weekly Round-up | 4 Comments
Tags: spanking
Community
Not had a lot of time today but it all seems a bit quiet. These images found at Spanking Emporium, Vanilla Spanking, Contemporary Spanking, AAA, Devlin and the Chicago Spanking Review.
Filed under: spanking, web round-up, Weekly Round-up | 4 Comments
Tags: spanking
Letters to my Governess
The correspondence began here.
Dear Amelia,
It is always nice to be recognised, although in my experience a good sound spanking is rarely appreciated at the time. If you recall once upon a time I am sure you kicked at the traces whenever I disciplined you as a girl and only now do you see the benefits.
So it will prove with Ruth. At the moment she either glares at me when we meet, or else she averts her eyes and picks her words carefully as we dance around her education.
She was on time to her lessons yesterday, but sadly that was her only virtuous act. She sat sullenly through a geography lesson and when I confronted her about it she told me in no uncertain terms that what I was teaching was for babies. Even when I quickly demonstrated that she knew little of what I was telling her she became quite intractable until I had to threaten her with a spanking.
“You know that I am a grown woman and too old for a spanking,” she informed, adding that her mama and father were addled in the head if they thought she was going to put up with our arrangement forever.
Finally I had to take up the hairbrush and ask her to take down her undergarments. I told her that if she refused I would summon the maid and after she had been tamed I would cane her. Incidentally I have resolved that school room punishments should be the province of the cane or perhaps the Yankee paddle, but first she must be brought to heel.
She at once remonstrated and agreed eagerly that she would listen to her lessons, but I was adamant that she was to be spanked. She was quite dewy-eyes when she submitted in a quiet voice and implored me not to tell anyone.
I told her that if she let down her own draws and went across my lap without further protest that her spanking would be between us. There was a long silence and she glared at me as if she meant me harm and then with a sigh she finally complied.
As you know, when I spank I spank hard and in short order her womanish bare bottom was quite red and near grazed and she kicked her heels and bawled like one being murdered; so much for her discretion. I did not cease the operation until she was dripping with copious tears and all but begging for a geography lesson. By then the crowns and underside of her bottom curves had shiny patches of raised flesh marred by white and marron colouring. No wonder she took on so, she has a bottom so suited to a classic blistering and I am sure she will not sit down for a day or two.
By the time she was a girl surrendered a lesson was out of the question and I set her still bare behind to the corner to contemplate her errors. Once she pulled herself together she protested the shame, but I was firm and threatened to have her stand so until luncheon unless she was contrite. This time we took morning coffee together as if nothing had happened and she was spared the shame of the maid witnessing her humility.
Progress at last.
Do not come around for a few days or more, I will call on you. I think I can finally take Ruth in hand.
Oh, I did not inquire, how are you sitting today?
Yours, Jane Carlisle.
To be continued…
Filed under: DJB stories, domestic, F/F, history, spanking, spanking stories | 4 Comments
Tags: governess, mentoring, spanking, Victorian
A Voice in the Corner 